#the one that started deleting personal files kept in either Documents or Pictures?

[kanyniablue]

i feel like we really don’t talk about how for a period of possibly more than a year, every official windows 10 update from actual real m*crosoft had a catastrophic mistake baked right in that held the possibility of eating your device from the inside out

i don’t mean ‘the SAME catastrophic mistake’ either, i mean new ones each time

[i-see-you-now-you-see-me]

Unintentional Coincidence /// Hungry for You

(oneshot/ DYVLONY series, can be read separately)

Pairing: Wayv (NCT) YangYang x Reader (you)

Word count: approx 7k (a long one, i know)

Warnings: smut, blood, violence, drugs usage (the reader get drugged), mention of prostitution, smuty smuttttttttttttttt

A/N: i had to do it though, had this idea in my head and there it is, enjoy

*10043567901;1102033149001. PLANET DYVLONY*

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

* 48 hours before *

-She attacked me in my own home?! She is not human or alien, she is a monster, - Mr. Gibbs talked, while court magistrate Dejun listened.

-What happened after?

-When she beat me up, I saw her run through the door and that was it, called you straight away!

-Thank you for your time, we will find her ASAP, - Xiaojun spoke.

After Mr. Gibbs had left the building, Dejun dialed Ten’s number.

-We got a problem, - were his first words when the call connected.

-Is everything alright?

-Can you come to High court quarters? I will get someone to greet you when you come.

-I am on my way, - detective Ten spoke.

Minutes later, Ten was going down in the elevator, meeting Xiao Dejun by the door. Walking in silent room, where no one would disturb, they sat down. Xiaojun pulled out a file. Throwing pictures on the table, he sighed.

-She did this, - he said, - number two beat the crap out of Mr. Gibbs and ran. Look at the pictures Ten, tell me what do you think?

Ten was eyeing them carefully not to miss anything. He let out an approval breath.

-There is something not right, - detective said, - when we did the tests on girls none of them were aggressive, there is something more, also, I didn’t hear that she would have tried to escape when Gibbs collected her.

-Exactly, - Dejun spoke, - I think he might have done something to trigger her, that’s why she did this.

Ten nodded. None of the humans were aggressive, no disturbing behavior was seen, nor any they had heard of. Anna was perfect in every way, and Ten’s wife was pulling his strings on purpose, but not like this.

-I will get my team on it straight away, - Ten spoke. Xiao nodded.

-We cannot, - he sighed, - since about humans no one really knows, we cannot have more exposure to what is already out there. I must say, you should do this on your own, mind that, I will help you.

-Ok, we start with surveillance footage by Gibbs’ house, and see where we go from there.

-Yes, let’s do that.

Both of them were soon in a car, driving towards Gibbs’ house, uneasy feeling in Ten’s gut. He was sure Gibbs hurt the girl, and if he was right, surveillance will be useless, either way deleted or, he will hear another of – it must have broken down, I didn’t know - this bullshit.

-How come you are here? – Mr. Gibbs asked.

-We are here to check if we could see your surveillance recordings, I am Detective Ten by the way.

-I know who you are, - he stepped aside, - be my guest.

Leading them through corridor, soon they had reached the camera surveillance room. As a scientist, Mr. Gibbs had the newest technology, including cameras, speaker phones, all sorts of gears, that no one yet would be able to purchase.

Showing the first video, where you ran, into his back garden and then through the bushes, Ten was ready to push some buttons. He turned to face Gibbs.

-And the other footage?

-What are you referring to? – Gibbs asked.

-Where she beats you up?

Mr. Gibbs pulled another video, where it was clear, that you went fully ballistic on him. Kicking him in the balls first, then stomach, then his back with your elbow, until he was on the ground and you kept on kicking.

-And before this?

-What? – Mr. Gibbs felt offended. – what are you after detective?

-Just doing my work, - Ten said back, - if you are liable to information that could help us, it is your job as our citizen to provide us with it. If you fail to do so, we can ask the judge at the high court to write a legal document for it, or, if you won’t cooperate, ask for a lawyer, we can ask for a search warrant.

Ten was right, truth to be told, if Gibbs had nothing to hide, why just not show them. End of story. Gibbs bit his cheek. He knew Ten could be very pushing towards his goal, so he obliged. Playing another video, your body was attached to some system, and clearly Mr. Gibbs was experimenting on you.

-Sir, - Xiaojun spoke, - have you been experimenting on a human being, that you were supposed to keep safe and teach our ways?

Gibbs grit his teeth. He hated this.

-You have no proof!? – he nearly shouted.

-This is enough proof to be showed in a court, - Ten said. – if you tell us now, we might ask for a gentler punishment for you.

Gibbs stayed quiet. An hour later all of his camera footage, since the day you were brought to his home, was taken by police task forces, Xiaojun and Ten collecting evidence of experimenting, as well as trying to get more info as to where you might have gone.

24h later, Detective Ten and a search party had looked at any possible place you could have gone. Unfortunately, it was pointless, nothing had been found. You had showed up in a couple of DYVLONY citizen cameras which are mainly located on the corners of small shops and businesses, but after that it’s like you vanished.

Ten had proposed the GYPE beach to be searched, but lack of money and resources, stopped that idea from happening. He was biting his knuckles now, 24 hours had passed, and still nothing? Ten felt responsible, since he was the one who helped to give all then girls home to live in.

-It’s my fault, - Ten said, - if I would have known!

-Listen, no, don’t do that, he is a public figure, we didn’t know, - Dejun tapped Ten’s shoulder. – but we can find her, or try, like we are doing right now.

-I know, - he sighed, it had been a long day. All Ten wanted to do was go home to his wife and sink between her soft thighs.

-Go home, Ten, we’ll continue tomorrow.

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways. Ten had a feeling that when the morning comes, they will not be able to find the girl, and they will have to let her go.

*Morning after, 36 hours into the search*

-We have lost her, - an officer spoke.

Ten grabbed his hair in frustration. Xiaojun was banging his head against the search board. He sighed.

-We do have one option, - he said in a low voice. Ten looked up.

-What do you mean? – Ten asked.

-You know, - Xiaojun whispered.

-No, - Ten said, - I… I don’t think it’s a good idea.

-I know, but what choice do we have, he might be the only chance we got!

Deep down Ten knew, that Xiao was right, but that was a step he was not ready to take.

*48 hours search/// Lost case, file missing*

-I wish this was a road trip, - Ten spoke. Xiao was driving.

-I know, - he said, - if we would be able to get him to find her for us, that would be perfect. But I have heard many things, and I don’t think that’s how it will go.

-You are right, - once stopped, they both stepped out of the vehicle, Ten putting on a police vest, arming himself with guns that contained silver bullets and were made from silver too. Xiao made sure his silver bracelets are visible as well as a gun, that was secured around his hips.

-Ok, let’s do this, - Dejun took number 2 portfolio with him, to be presented, if needed.

Knocking on the door later on, no one answered. Ten proposed they would go around his house, search for him there. Since it was outskirts of town, there was no one around, but the beautiful nature that surrounded the place.

Taking a turn to go deeper into the back garden, Ten followed Xiao. There he was. Standing by a violet chrysanthemum, hands behind his back, head focused on the flowers, but eyes closed, listening.

-Excuse me, sir, - Ten started, - no one opened the door, so we came to look for you.

The person didn’t turn around, just chuckled.

-Sir, we were wondering… if you would… - Xiao didn’t finish the sentence, when the person turned around. His eyes were red, lips paler than normally, his fangs showing.

-Ah, you were wondering… - he laughed in their faces.

Ten loaded his gun, pointing it directly at the predator. Liu Yangyang, an immortal being, that has the ability to be reborn again, was the ultimate killer if he wanted to be. The best huntsman there was. His thirst is the only thing that keeps him out here, if he would make it to town, all of them would be dead.

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

-We have a missing persons case, - Ten said, - we cannot find her and… - he didn’t finish, Yangyang looked hooked.

-It’s “her”? – he asked.

Ten looked confused.

-What is the matter? What does that do with anything…? – Ten arched a brow. Xiao felt saliva in his throat being stuck, he had a feeling this would not go well.

Ten was pressed against a column in Yangyang’s garden, by the neck within seconds.

-Why do you look for “her”? – Yangyang licked his fangs.

-I can show you why, - Xiao came closer, - she beat up one of our community members.

Liar.

-No, no, - Yangyang whispered. – you search for her because she is not guilty.

He let go of Ten, who fell to the ground coughing. The file that was in Xiao’s hands was snatched away, Yangyang’s eyes widening in seeing photos.

-So, will you help us? – Ten asked, Yangyang tsked.

-I will, - he said, Xiaojun and Ten looked at each other almost saying “this was easier than we thought”, until, - but when I find her, SHE IS MINE.

-What? No, we cannot, - Xiao was speechless, Yangyang had him by his neck.

-No, no, you listen, - Yangyang spoke, - you came for help, I am helping, and in return, you are willing to give me this “human” to feast on, I do not think it is that bad. You have your missing persons case closed, and I will have a plaything.

Yangyang bit his lip, closing his eyes, when some blood dripped down his lips, licking it up, his face lit up.

-I can almost taste her.

If it wasn’t for Xiao carrying a blood sample, they would think Yangyang is mental. Xiao took out the small ampoule with your blood and handed it over to the predator.

-You’ve done your research, - Yangyang said, - I am impressed. So what’s it gonna be? You both dying here or me having the girl, you choose.

Ten looked at Xiao once again. Understanding that there is nothing else nor a better option, nor they were willing to die, they both nodded.

-Excellent, - Yangyang smiled, walking away back to his starting point by the flowers.

When he heard them both leave, Yangyang went inside his home, sat down on his bed. The blood sample ampule was burning his palm. He again licked his lips, took of his long robe and shirt, made himself more comfortable on the bed. Opening the sample carefully he opened his mouth to stuck out his tongue. A simple drop of blood touched his tastebuds.

Yangyang breathed in and out slowly. Ampoule was closed and put aside and Yangyang felt a hot fire burn him throughout his body cells. A taste he tried first time, and a taste he would never forget. Yours.

His member twitched in his trousers, Yangyangs fangs dropped down even further, it would only happen if he was to attack someone, or during a high pleasure moment, such as this. His hand reached inside his pants, stroking his cock with eyes closed, he was already picturing you in front of him. Building up his own orgasm, since he was now in a hurry to find you, Yangyang used his super speed, jacking himself off, shots of cum was now painted on his stomach and hand, dripping down his thighs. Fuck.

“I don’t have time for this”, he thought to himself and went to have a quick shower and dress up.

Not knowing how to dress yet, Yangyang put on a simple clothing to blend in with the DYVLONY, the only thing hard to mask was his fangs. He used makeup to cover his face, he redness around his eyes and his lips that would change to different tones depending on the situation.

The more blood he craved the redder his lips became.

He was using transport. How odd for him. His own car felt strange, since he would rarely leave his house, all he needed was there. Driving to town was simple, fast, he sped through the traffic, leaving his car near the High court. The senses overwhelmed him when he stepped out of the vehicle.

He smelled her. You. It seemed like you had just gone past a couple of minutes ago. Yangyangs ability to track and trace someone was based on their belongings and blood, then he would picture where the person had gone.

Fast as a lightening, he was inside the court and out, nobody noticing that he even was there. He went to a house, smelling you on the way. Sneaking inside the house he was searching, then he heard a noise.

-Who the fuck are you?! – someone shouted, and he turned around. A girl greeted him with a pan in her hands. – answer me or I’ll use this!

Yangyang started to laugh. He pushed the girl against the closest door frame, his nose bumping against her neck, breathing in the scent. His fangs scraped the skin.

-Don’t hurt me, - she whispered, Yangyang looked at her, - I am pregnant.

Yangyang stepped back, feeling a barrel of a gun pressed against his skull.

-What are you doing here? – Ten asked, Yangyang turned around.

-Hello there, Detective, - Yangyang started, - the blood sample you gave me, led me to her.

-They are the same species, - Ten said back, - of course there is something similar, but she is not her. This is my wife, - Ten pointed at his S/O, - we would appreciate if you would leave now.

Yangyang nodded and with that he was gone.

Street after a street, and Yangyang felt your essence again. This time it was clear that it was you. A dying neighborhood. You might have tried to hide here, and then he felt a familiar sweet scent. DYVLONY perfume, and he knows only one person who has worn the same one for many, many years.

So, he knew, he had to do what he does best in a situation like this. Kill everyone.

He dressed up as a student, round glasses on his eyes, hair brushed back, even a couple of books in his hands to make it more believable. He felt it being harder to conceal his red eyes, he knew it meant that he would soon hibernate. A couple of streets away, he walked through a massive warehouse, it was empty, he walked further inside, till he reached a room by the far exit of the building. “EXIT” was burning bright red, so they were opened.

Yangyang opened the door and stepped through. Walking down the stairs, he heard voices, he was getting closer to his main goal.

The most popular brothel on DYVLONY was here. Hidden under the massive warehouse, it was filled with people having fun in each other’s company, having a laugh, a drink, and some fun on the way.

Yangyang reached the receptionist.

-No under eighteens’ here, - she announced, Yangyang pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

-I am eighteen, - he said, - just turned! I got ID if you want.

He really played well this character. Cute boy, no one would ever notice.

-Very well then, how can I help you? – the receptionist asked.

-I want to have some fun, - Yangyang said. – but I would like something different, something fresh, you know like… something extraordinary… I can pay for it…

He smiled without his teeth. His fangs were *this close* to poking out and snapping her neck, if she wouldn’t give him what he desired. He presented a card together with his ID.

-I don’t know what you are after, - the receptionist said, a knock on the door behind her made Yangyang squint his eyes. Another girl walked through.

-The evening auction is about to start, we don’t take no new customers at this time, - she announced.

-It’s a pity, but you won’t have a choice, - Yangyang sped around the table, knocking both ladies out, walking through the door. To everybody else he just looked like a schoolboy who probably came to lose his virginity, but to Yangyang everyone else was just a bag of bones, and he would have great fun soon.

A lady spoke.

-We have a special offer, - she smiled, there behind her back on a post, were seven women, and Yangyang recognized you immediately. – but only for the owner of the biggest dick.

It looked like everyone was near to fishing out their cocks, and Yangyang sighed. Then the DYVLONY lady walked towards you, it was clear to Yangyang that you were on some kind of sedative, your pupils were too dilated to be on normal sex drugs, not unless they still been using the ones who have been forbidden since dark ages.

-This is the tightest pussy we can offer, but only for the one and only, - Yangyang licked his lips.

-How do we know? – Yangyang shouted from the far back. – how do we know she is the tightest?

A man next to him snorted “how would you know what that means, boy”, and Yangyang held it in.

-Do you have the biggest dick to test that? – DYVLONY lady nearly laughed in his face. Your relaxed form on the stage opened your legs wider, your pussy on display, for everyone to see. Man whistled and some groaned seeing your parted legs and the treasure between them.

-No, - Yangyang said, - but I have the biggest fangs out of you all.

Before anyone could react, Yangyang ran down every isle, snapping necks of all the horny motherfuckers who eyed your cunt. The ladies shrieked, running away as fast as they could. Yangyang was on the stage, taking your almost limp, naked body in his arms. From afar a knocking sound seemed to be getting closer.

Another door from the side opened and a lady with a walking stick walked out.

-Liu Yangyang, - she shouted. – You have no right to be here and do this!

The DYVLONY lady was in her 80s, walking stick helping her up, her face angry. Two bodyguards were with her, both looking ready to fight.

-You don’t have a right to steal people from the streets and sell into prostitution either, but here we are, - he said matter-of-factly.

-You are banned from this house, - she said, - many, many centuries ago you were, and now again you strike to displease me, if it wasn’t for my fourth-generation ancestor carrying a baby, I might not have been here, because you killed them all! Your bloodlust and addiction got the worst of you, and you killed innocent men and women, Liu Yangyang, you have no right to judge or touch any of us!

-I am not sorry, nor have I ever been, but this here, - he looked down on you, - is mine. If you wish call the police and ask, add killing these bastards and I will sit in the prison, until I am reborn again, and do this again if I have to.

He carried you towards the exit, not looking back at the anger filled brothel owner. She was fuming. Once out and away from the brothel, Yangyang stripped of his student shirt and put it around you, to cover at least your naked butt. All of the sudden your hand touched his cheek.

-Fuck me, - you lazily spoke, drool forming on the corners of your mouth, it was the drugs talking, and you slapped his face, taking Yangyang by surprise, - fuck the living shit out of me, my pussy hurts daddy, do it all to me…

Your voice broke into a moan like breaths, moaning heavy against his face. You leaned closer to him, your tongue out first to taste his lips.

-I am your cum slut, use me as you want, - you groaned again.

-Nope, not yet, - Yangyang said walking towards his car. – once you are out of that shit, we’ll have a talk.

Bed creaked under your movements, as Yangyang tried to press your body back down on the bed. You were fisting the bed sheets, moaning, sweat forming on your forehead, nipples pressed through the clothing Yangyang provided you with.

Once in a while, he cleaned your forehead with a damp towel, the fever was going down, the drugs slowly, and I mean slowly leaving your system. Yangyang’s trousers tight as ever, watching you be in despair of your feelings, then he noticed your wet crotch. Your juices flowing in copious amounts, wetting the trousers on the way.

He then tied up your hands to the bed post, and removed the damp garment, lifting your ass up and putting a towel underneath.

-As much as I love a sight like this, - Yangyang sighed, looking at your entrance, - I am not an idiot nor a…- and then it hit him. Your smell, which he tried to ignore, suppressing it down to zero, in couple of seconds went up to thousand. His fangs plopped down, and animalistic growl left his lips. His eyes changed color and his lips became darker.

His lips attacked your cunt, tongue diving straight in your core, thirst taking over his mind. Slurping up your juices like mad man, Yangyang was lost, his tongue movements coaxing a scream from you. Grabbing onto your legs and pushing you towards him, he was drowning in your sex, his teeth scraping your skin, a bit of blood pouring, while he licked you up.

A pained expression left your mouth. You opened your eyes, your eye pupils becoming normal with every thrust of Yangyangs tongue, and probably because all the blood that had flowed down to your belly was leaving your system, where his fangs had bit you.

Then you felt it.

Your fear.

Where were you?

How did you get here?

What happened?

Did you manage to run away from that monster?

Tear escaped your eyes and instead of a moan leaving your lips, it was a sniffle of fear and shame and not understanding the situation you were in. The drugs were wearing off.

Yangyang heard this and looked up at you. Your teary eyes stared back at him, he looked down. Seeing your wounds from his fangs, he stepped away quickly.

-I’m sorry, this was not meant to happen, - he got on his knees, - I’m sorry, I’m sorry, - kept leaving his mouth, his own eyes shading his tears away. You saw his red eyes and cowered back closer to the bed post you were still attached to.

You cried. Whimpers leaving your mouth while you looked at him. Yangyang tried to shush you a bit, as he moved closer.

-I won’t hurt you, I promise, that was an accident, - he explained, - let me untie you first, ok?

You nodded. When he did untie you as promised, you kicked him in the chest and tried to run. Your wobbly legs didn’t let you get far, you were scooped up in Yangyangs’ arms again anyway.

-Shhh, - he tried, - I will explain, give me a chance.

He held you by your waist as you sat on his bed, you directly on top of him, sat in his lap. You were trembling.

-Police was looking for you, - he started, you relaxed a little bit, - when you ran, you must have ben exhausted, because someone had found you. An owner of a brothel had found you and you were drugged. I am sorry for touching you like that, I didn’t mean to. Not while you were on drugs.

-Drugs? – you re-asked.

-Yes, drugs that make you ache for pleasure of sex, makes you uncontrollable, your desires or sexual references on display.

-How do you know?

-Well…

*Long, long time ago*

-Ladies and gentlemen, - a female spoke, she was wearing a see-through night gown that was down to her ankles. – today, we introduce you to a beast. Beast of pleasure!

The curtain that concealed the make-shift stage was pulled down, revealing a naked Yangyang, his cock standing proud against his stomach, tip of his penis embellished with a piercing of a pearl.

-Ladies, since the night is all about you, he is yours, only for a dozen dyvo (DYVLONY currency).

She then walked over to Yangyang, pressing a cup to his lips, making him drink the liquid, his fangs were out, but he was clueless to what was happening to him. When the first woman approached him and sank down on his cock, starting a rhythm. Once he realized his purpose was fucking whoever was on top of him, Yangyang used his superspeed to get them off. Once orgasmed, completely fucked out from the act, the woman was helped down, she would not be able to walk straight or walk in general.

Yangyangs cock then would be cleaned down, and then the next one would take place. Since his metabolism burned faster, the more he used his strength, the more drugs he was provided with in the alcoholic drink that was handed to him near enough after a couple of hours.

The body count kept on growing, and as the night moved on, Yangyang felt burn in his chest. It was getting harder to breath, all he could focus on was the wet cunts and squelching noises, that at once started to ring loudly in his ears. Then he started to vibrate, and suddenly, his body exploded, killing the lady who was on top of him. Blood spluttering everywhere it was a sight that was hard to forget.

Exactly thirteen hours after the incident, in the mountains a group of men were enjoying a drink, while they lit up a firepit, ashes were still burning hot when a poof happened. In the middle of the ashes was a naked young man, shivering. The men helped him up, giving him a spare clothing, Yangyangs eyes burned red, fangs showing, as he sunk his teeth in the first victim after his rebirth. He killed them all, until he realized what had happened before, his memories flooding his mind.

When he walked through the makeshift door in the brothel, ladies who recognized him tried to run, the men however were ready to kick his guts. A young maiden stood at the end, Yangyang knew she was the performer who gave him those drugs that killed him. On his way, Yangyang teared limbs of DYVLONY coming for him, snapped necks of women and men, ripping throats out till he reached the lady.

-How are you here? – she asked, Yangyang didn’t respond but his teeth painfully sunk in her neck, she kept on kicking and punching him, screaming, - I have a child!

Yangyang stopped.

-I have a child in me!!! – she screamed, and Yangyang let go of her. She dropped to the floor, - now you have done it! You have had your revenge! You are not welcome here, leave and never come back! I therefore announce you to be banned from this place forever!

Yangyang stood back, turning around, seeing his victims, all of them dead in front of his eyes. He ran as fast as he could, but he ended up in the place he was reborn. The firepit only consisting of ashes. He touched them and cried.

What had they done to him?

Years later, Yangyang had built a home there, the firepit was near enough an altar for him to reborn into again, if/when he dies. A secret room on the ground floor, a room of rebirth.

*

-They would have used you while you couldn’t anymore, - Yangyang spoke softly, you nodded, - come on.

He then led you to the bathroom, helping you strip from the shirt, since your lower half was naked, starting a tap for the bathtub, helping you in. You still felt the effect from the drugs, in between your legs, your juices still pooling your lower lips.

-When does this stop? – you asked.

-Should be a couple more hours maybe, - Yangyang himself had used a drug on a lover of his before. He was so horny that he needed to dick down someone, later it turned to forty-six-hour sex with no breaks, constantly pounding his partner, who wasn’t able to speak, just drool in the covers.

He had not used that ever again.

-I… - you started, - I am a fugitive, I escaped from… my guardian.

-I know, - he said, - I also know you were not guilty of whatever crime you committed.

You nodded, bathtub was now full, and Yangyang helped you clean up, at that moment it felt like he was your boyfriend.

-Who are you? – you softly asked since he seemed to be opened to a conversation.

-I have classed myself as a vampire.

-A vampire? – you re-asked and he nodded. – then the red eyes make sense, - you let out a giggle, - and the lips.

You looked at him and Yangyang stared back at you. He swallowed and you looked away. His fangs were visible, but it didn’t scare you, also, you were naked, but you felt no shame. You had been examined before, when you first got on this planet, when they took you lab, did some tests, gave you a vaccine and a chip, all that time you had no clothing, till they gave you a onesie to wear.

Nakedness didn’t feel like anything anymore. It didn’t give you the blush to your face either, and you felt a rush coming to you. Memories flooded your brain, nothing significant, just a few things with hooded eyes, something that you must have said.

“Cum slut”, you went shades of tomato straight away. What the fuck?!

-Are you ok, - Yangyang asked, - you just went all…

-Uhm, - you turned the other way, facing the wall.

Who did you say this to? You were closing your eyes to remember. The boyish jawline, the glasses, ruffled hair, your hand on his cheek, you looked back at Yangyang.

Shit.

That was him.

-What is it?

You hid your face with your palms.

-I remember, - you said, and Yangyang looked confused, but your hidden face caught up with his mind.

-Ah, I see, - he laughed, - so, you don’t want me to fuck you that bad huh?

You didn’t look up either. This was embarrassing, on today’s episode of how fucked up is this, that’s fucked up, that’s exactly what it felt like. Yangyangs laugh rang through the bathroom.

-I’m sorry, - he said, - I know it’s not funny, but your reaction is just too cute.

You looked back at him.

-Cute? – you asked, Yangyang stood up taking a towel, you got up and he wrapped you in it, helping you out of the tub, walking you back to the room. He didn’t let you sit down on the bed, he just made sure you sat on the chair, dried yourself of, while he took of covers from the bed, put new ones on. It felt almost homey. – What are you going to do to me?

Your voice small, when asking this. Yangyang stopped what he was doing. Detective Ten and Magistrate Xiao probably thought that you would be sucking his dick about now, but Yangyang wasn’t sure himself anymore. The situation was scary, even for him. He would love to pound you into the mattress, of course, no question about it, but that would have to wait for now.

-I thought when I find you, I will play with you, bite you, drink from you, have sex with you, and all that over again…

-So… why don’t you? – your voice quiet. Yangyang stared you down and walked over. When eye-level with you, he smiled, his fangs showing, he licked them while you stared at him. Your eyes wide. Yangyang waited for a different reaction.

-I don’t know, - he finally said. – you still could be having effect from sedative, not unless you want to be my cum slut.

With that he cracked up, and you hid your face, leaning down, pressing your face against your knees.

-I cannot believe I said that, - you still hid, - I am not like that.

-And how exactly are you?

Yangyang was next to you again, his super speed not scaring you at all. He was on his knees listening to what you were about to say. Reaching to cup your face in his hands, he made sure you made eye contact. You bit your lip and tried to look somewhere else. He let out a breath.

-I am, well, - you started, and then there it was, your lips on his. Yangyang didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop, if what he led you on even more, grabbing onto your towel. Kiss was gentle and the type you would want to have with your future partner.

For some unknown reason, it felt right in all of the wrong ways. He was an alien, more so- a vampire alien, but you were an alien too. There was no rights or wrongs in a situation like this. The kiss got more heated when Yangyang pulled apart your towel, baring your body to him. He drank in the sight of you.

-I want to make all of this mine, - he stated, pulling you up on your feet, he pushed you towards his bed. Touching your hair, your waist, your hips, butt cheeks, hoisting your leg up to his hips, - inch by inch, mine and no one else’s.

-I’m yours, - you nodded and gave into his hot mouth again. His kisses and touches seemed to be everywhere, he pushed you onto the bed, lips traveling down to your breasts, sucking on a nipple, and then on the other one, he looked up at you.

-Can I bite you? – he asked, you watched him and nodded, you were up to this. To being his. He chose a spot just above your breasts, kissed the spot, and then slowly let his fangs sink in, piercing the skin, earning a yelp from you. Once bitten, he licked up the wound, that healed immediately, and returned to pleasing you again. His hands traveled between your legs, touching the soft skin, the shortly cut pubic hair, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering the slick with his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean.

Then his mouth was on yours, his body making way to your parted legs. You felt the bulge of his trousers rubbing directly at your clit and moaned in satisfaction, your hand reached for him through his pants.

-Take them off, - you said, - take it all off.

Once naked, he was on top of you again, but you spun him around. He was lying on his back and you were hovering above him. You kissed down his chest, his lean stomach, your hand grabbing his cock, slowly palming him. Yangyang touched your hair, moving it to the side so he could see your face. Licking the tip of his dick, you swirled your tongue around it, your hand pulling the skin, the wetness of your mouth coating his member, so your hand could slide up and down.

-So… gentle… - he whispered, his hands reached for you as he sat up, turning your bum towards his face, he pushed your legs apart and positioned himself between them, your aching pussy over his face. You didn’t stop pleasuring him though, your mouth still sucking and hollowing your cheeks, as much as you could before choking, since you haven’t done that much before. Yangyangs’ hands held your hips and legs strongly, pushing you down on his face. You moaned out, letting go of his cock when you felt his tongue between your pussy lips. Sucking one into his mouth and then another, then licking you up and down, near your asshole, then sucking your clitoris. You returned to your own job, licking the underside of his cock, the thick veins, down to his balls, sucking on them, while your fist moved up and down.

Your orgasm was approaching, and you tried to move from Yangyangs grasp.

-I don’t want to come, - you stated, and he let go. You turned around, kissing him again. You were about to turn around, when he spoke.

-I want to see you as I claim you.

Hot kisses returned to your skin, and you were pushed on your back, your hand guiding his member through your folds, to your entrance, as he filled you up slowly. The stretch was a bit painful, your walls fluttering around him, to accommodate his length, you had to wait a bit longer. Yangyang kissed your chest, not moving till you would give him a green light. As soon as you nodded, he pulled out just a bit and gave a short thrust, just to do that again, your legs went around his body, tangled up, while your toes curled from the pleasure.

Short thrusts were his game, short and fast, but your pulsing cunt sucking him in from time to time stopped his movements. He gave you a look.

-What is this? – he asked jokingly, - what do you need, baby…

The nickname he gave you put a smile to your lips.

-Deeper, - were the only word.

-Your wish is my command, - he kissed you once more, and you were rewarded with a rich, deep thrust up to your cervix. Yangyang pulled out and did the same again. – let’s make it more exciting, shall we?

You nodded.

You weren’t prepared.

His super strength and speed, had you taken aback, then you felt what it meant – to be pounded into the mattress, an orgasm reached you and you cried out, never had you had an orgasm from vaginal sex only, but somehow this was different. Your senses overwhelmed, Yangyang’s movements not slowing down, your core clenching down on him, while he was nipping on your earlobe, biting it to draw blood.

The next thing you knew, you were up against the wall, hoisted to his waist, as he entered you again, this time, he was moving in humanly speed, lazily filling you over and over again. Your head against the wall, your moans filling the room, he was vocal as well, besides the grunts and groans, and silent words like “this pussy is mine”, he had dangerously “tasty” moans, at some point his hips went stuttering, and his voice got a bit raspy, as he came, giving you couple more strong thrusts, his sperm coating your walls, and dripping down your legs, he had much of it to give you.

You were on the bed again, your legs spread wide, and Yanyangs tongue diving in your mound again. His hot lips sucked on your clit, turning you into a frenzy of moans, his hand pressed down a bit on your womanhood and you reached your high, his lips not leaving your entrance before he had licked every drop up.

Your breathing was heavy, as you came down from your second orgasm, and Yangyang plopped next to you. Then he felt a pang in his heart. The ache unbearable.

-Oh no, - he moaned out, you got up to help him.

-What’s the matter?

He couldn’t speak, his breath coming out short, sharpened, his skin boiling, he squeezed out last words.

-Wait… for… me…

The unexpected happened. In front of your eyes, his body boiled up and exploded, covering you red from head to toe. Your scream leaving your mouth, eyes widening in shock. You got of the bed and onto the ground, tears in your eyes.

Your cries the only thing to leave your lips.

Somehow you ended up falling asleep hugging your knees, not being able to stand up and do anything from the experience. What felt like a day later, you heard rustling from somewhere. Your eyes widened. Who was in the house?

The door creaked open, a figure walked in, approaching you on the ground, covered in dust, while you were still filthy from the blood.

-Waited long? – you finally looked up. To your surprise Yangyang was staring back at you.

-Oh my… - you reached for him, hugging his body, crying again.

-I told you to wait, didn’t I? – you nodded into his shoulder.

-Let’s get cleaned up, yeah? – he pulled you both up, - don’t worry, babe, it won’t happen for at least twenty more years now.

You could only nod.

Maybe you were meant to escape a monster only to be in the arms of a predator, some people are just meant for unintentional coincidences. Universe has its own way of sorting things out, and maybe this was it. His universe became yours.

[onisiondrama]

PART 7 - video #13

(Click here for mirrors)

what’s up

(Sorry for the offensive language in this one. He’s pretty pissed.) - He wants to discuss the legal case. He filed an anti harassment protection order against two individuals. One of them has been harassing him for the last 8-10 years. This person deleted earlier videos, but Greg’s life is this guys’s obsession. It’s crazy how obsessed he is. Greg is no doubt on this guy’s mind 24/7. It’s creepy and weird. Lately he’s been documenting ever aspect of every interaction he has in Greg’s world. The dude just make $20,000 on attorney’s fees on a case Greg had dismissed. You guys payed some dude to show up to court and hear the case was dismissed. Numbskulls. If you’re a Youtuber and someone tells you to stop talking about them, why would you hire an attorney to go into court and speak for you? Dude couldn’t even speak for himself. He was just sat there smirking like a jackass while he’s losing his hair and gets fatter. Total idiot, punk ass bitch. Greg was overwhelmed be how much of a bitch he was. - Greg was standing there with his bulletproof vest and people wonder why he was wearing that. “Christina Grimmie anyone?” He knows she wasn’t shot in the bulletproof vest area, but life is a danger when you show up to a court room where a bunch of people thinks you prey on children. Where are the children by the way? Who even made this up? Because he was blackmailed into sleeping with an 18 year old, now he’s into kids? He doesn’t understand the leap in logic. - The other person the case was against was someone who used to specialize in going after people who go after children. He’s trying to make it look like Greg would want to go after a child like that. It’s pathetic and one of the dumbest thing he’s ever seen. When he dated Shiloh when she was 17 1/2. They spoke to the police and they cleared him of any inappropriate images on his computer and everything. He was 100% cleared with Shiloh. Another relationship where he’s still married to the person, so that worked out. Another relationship where someone was 19. Another who was 18 1/2. Someone we don’t know about was 26. Someone we don’t talk about was 24. The wife before was 24 when they separated. People obsess over these relationships and try to relate it to children. They don’t want to go after people who go after 12 year old, they go after people who date adults. - Says this is the funniest thing: “Well they’re still mentally a child,” There are 50 year olds who are mentally a child and there are 18 year olds that are mentally 90. That’s a fact. When he was 17 he had the maturity of a 40 year old male. He was a little dark and goth, but very capable.  - At the court case Greg is sitting across from this pasty, greasier than him, looks like he never saw the sun in his life, beta male, pathetic, he’s definitely getting a double chin soon.[Greg is laughing] He’s smirking at the judge and Greg thought he was an idiot because he’s smirking in court like an ass hat. Judges likes to see people taking it seriously. - Greg went to court and asked for it to get dismissed because anti harassment protection orders are more open and close when the person isn’t a public figure. The problem is you have an ex who hates your guts and now he wants to stalk you, that’s illegal. Now he started a tumblr about you so now in court he just has to say he’s protected by the Constitution, freedom of the press and freedom of speech. Your lawyer can argue that they’re a stalker, but that’s stressful. Now you have to argue the constitution. He avoided going in there and arguing the constitution against people who are Youtubers, not journalists. Journalism used to mean you work for someone, now it means you have a blog. - [This section is sarcasm btw.] Chris is still a journalist even though he was released from his contract after someone killed themselves. He’s a journalist because he livestreams, which is what a 13 year old could do. Congratulations. - Being a youtuber isn’t a prideful thing. If you think you’re a big deal because you have a few million subscribers, you’re a joke, Youtube is a joke. Youtubers who take themselves seriously and think they have an impact on the world are jokes. They’re all pathetic because there are real hardworking people out there like soldiers, construction workers, and scholars. Youtubers are morons. - Real journalists go to Iraq or go in a storm and talk about the weather. A journalist isn’t a dude who works with a dude who is perused in court for sexual assault while dating a much younger women while going after people online who date younger women and act like they’re predators. That’s “retard paradox.” - A journalist from Newsweek approached him in the courthouse and it was one of the most bleh experiences he had in his life. “Pathetic” is too much of a dignified word for this person. He walked up to Greg and said, “yo Onision. I really want to hear your side of the story. I’m not anti-o. I really just care about the truth, you know?” Greg ignored him and kept looking at his phone. The guy said, “Ok I get it, I get it. You don’t trust me but you gotta know you can trust me.” Greg wanted him to fuck off. He doesn’t trust a single reporter on this earth because they are looking for headlines, just like Youtubers. Especially Newsweek. The articles they write about him are totally baseless. They don’t care. He sees no credentials. He sees someone who flunked out of high school or didn’t go to any journalism school working for Newsweek. This guy followed Greg into the bathroom even though he knew Greg didn’t want to talk to him. “Just say one word Greg.” His name is JAMES. [He lists his old names.] They’re too stupid to get his name right. “I’m Greg James bitch!” [I have no idea what he’s quoting but he’s been saying that for a while now.] - He gets in the court room and there are emo girls with dyed hair everywhere. Fucking morons. “When did this court room become a clown show?” He mimics them giggling and saying “that’s onision.” He says he should have just brought mace. [He pretends to spray mace onto the people in the court room and laughs.] These chicks are taking pictures and saying look at his snow boots. He says he doesn’t have dress shoes so he wore snow boots. Those are his ass kicking boots. One stomp and you’re done. He came prepared for war. - Hansen’s lawyer comes up and says he was never served so they want it dismissed even though he’s well aware he’s supposed to be here cuz he sent me. Legally, Greg guesses, you have to get served in order to show up, but Chris publicly acknowledged he was supposed to be there. He could fly across the country to have the cops called on him but he can’t fly across the country to show up in court. Pussy, moron, douche bag. Where is the money going? What is he spending it on? His debts? You guys don't realize you're getting played because you paid someone $20,000 for $2,500 in fees, which he says probably wasn’t even that much because the case was open and close. The attorney wasn’t even there for an hour. You have pussy boy who has an attorney speaking for him and Greg speaks for himself. He tells the judge he got legal advise and is taking a different legal avenue. He is literally doing it right now. - Some dumb ass hoes, dumb ass bitches follow him into the elevator. This girl was sitting next to her sugar daddy who had a beard and was a blimp. She’s holding up her camera and she was a midget and she asks him if he’s having a good day. He’s standing there thinking, “all these stupid ass whooohhmmms”. [seems like he was going to say whores but stopped himself] He’s silent because if he says anything it would wind up being te-he-he bullshit. He had sunglasses on so he didn’t have to look at the dumb bitch in the eyes. - 2nd floor happens, elevator opens. No one got out. Bitches are going to follow him all the way to the first floor. They’re there because they want to see the circus, they’re the clowns in the circus. He was surrounded by fucking idiots. They show up because they want him to do what? Like when Hansen showed up at his house he was surprised Greg’s obviously fake videos weren’t real because he’s a boomer. He asks if people could start saying “ok boomer” because this is an actual boomer. He does math and says not exactly, but pretty much. - Court was stupid. He didn’t have a good time. He treated himself to taco bell and treated people to dinner because he saved money by not hiring an attorney. He knows the other guys spent a shit load of money. It’s amazing they could have done it for free. They hired an attorney so they could continue to harass someone. How low life is that? If someone took him to court for harassment he would just stop talking about them. He could move on. - When you file an anti-harassment protection order you can’t talk about that person either so it’s like a mutual contract to F off. He says that last thing was just speculation. He doesn’t know what the actual rules are.  - He thinks it’s creepy and says a lot about a person when they fight an anti-harassment protection order. Why is it so hard to leave people alone? They’re harassers, it fits the definition. Not everyone is sane or reasonable. Just gotta keep going at it. People will keep cashing in on Greg. Greg owns all the channels. They get the revenue, but Greg gets the face time because they always think about him. Their whole job is him. “Fuck you.” He doesn’t know how you could waste the most precious thing you were given, life, on someone you hate. - He tells the emo girls that showed up to court to get a fucking haircut and to dye their hair a normal color.

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls of Justice - Chapter 5

It's morning brunchtime in Atlanta, and I'm servin' up a big ol’ stack of Johnny cakes with a juice reduction on the side. B)

IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: past mention of abuse, mental illness, gun violence, bonding over trauma

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Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 5:  The Wheel Still Turns on the Upturned Chariot]

John was quite used to keeping an eye and an ear out for everything. Arkham had its share of nasty surprises in all its forms, and it paid to be well-prepared for anyone rounding the corner or prying their eyes into what they shouldn’t see.

It took him one week to learn St. Dymphna’s camera patterns. Two to learn the normal guard rotation. One-and-a-half to learn the layout.

He was not used to the impromptu schedules they seemed to make for him, however. It was like his doctor saw some psychologist’s note about how repeated structured tasks was supposed to help affirm that the patient’s reality was indeed everyone else’s reality, scratched it out with pen, tore it out of the book, and tossed it out of the window straight into the industrial-size shredder while they knocked back a beer.

Yesterday was supposed to be the day. Instead he was suddenly forced to see - more like wait around for - his Parole Officer and assigned social worker. Apparently he could not get away with saying he was adjusting fine - both of them grilled him so much after the hour of waiting a piece that he felt like he’d been seared to a fine medium-rare.

As much as it infuriated him and made him want to just grab them both by the collars to make it very clear he was ‘okay’, he’d barely hung on. He’d had to clench his toes as much as possible and try to channel Bruce’s enviable ability to keep calm under pressure as he actively stopped himself from clenching his teeth or saying something he’d regret. He knew - knew - a lifetime in Arkham and a small obituary list on his record would always make people question his intentions and sanity, but it didn’t make them any less annoying, and it didn’t do that...other part of him any favors.

It might have been tamer now, but it was still there, and with every new tightly-wound ball of aggravation it was fed he could feel it start to pace. It seemed to take more and more calm-time to get it to stop lately… Heck, he could feel it now, still but almost pressed against the inside of its cage like it was waiting for something to come close enough.

But he would have to deal with it later. Today was the day. He’d had to adjust his schedule, had to account for a few extra things, but here, in the early evening before the sun completely set and Officer Kane was busy doing his ‘personal call’ to the on-duty nurse downstairs, John could make his move.

He watched the camera in the hall as he counted by tapping his fingers against his thigh. It would turn the other way - indicated by the slight shift in the lens’ focus if he could see it - in twenty seconds. He was wedged tight in the corner underneath it, having slid there and made a show of opening and closing the door so it looked like someone had gone inside.

The felt the familiar anxious thrill in his legs and sides of his head, just like when he was sneaking around Arkham. It was brighter in St. Dymphna, and had less places to hide, but at least if he got caught John wouldn’t be thrown in the hole.

Of course, they could throw him back. They could lock him up and refuse to house him again later. They could-

John shook his head. He didn’t have time to be paranoid.  

This was the time for action! For suspense! For catchy secret agent music!

He’d tapped to twenty, and the Secret Agent Man theme started to cycle in his head; he side-stepped carefully against the wall, just to make sure the camera couldn’t see him for the few steps it took to be out of the watchful eye’s range.

He walked on the sides of his feet rather than his heels, reducing the inevitable noise on the not-that-clean tile floor, and made for his target - the door halfway down the hall with the plate that read Officer Hank Kane, Parole.

John didn’t have long. Thankfully his office didn’t need any RFID card or fingerprint or anything like the more dangerous rooms in the place. Just a plain, old-fashioned lock.

And John had an old-fashioned method for unlocking.

Secret - aaagent maan, Secret - aaagent maan! He hummed to himself, sliding the lost-and-found credit card he’d been carrying around for a while into the gap between the door and the frame, and carefully angling it to wedge in-between the lock mechanism and begin to pry, bending the card out of shape. They’ve given you a number, he continued, wiggling the card’s edge into what should be the right angle and pushing, And taken away your naaame!

He pushed hard, and he twisted the knob at the same time as his finished the chorus - click.

John ducked inside the dim office and almost slammed the door shut just in time. The camera switched positions every thirty seconds - two more and he’d have to walk away like he wasn’t trying to break into the place and wait some more.

The place was just like it was yesterday, and couple have almost doubled as the Arkham Warden’s private office:  a couple of slightly-peeling filing cabinets that held useless documents John didn’t need; a bookcase with a couple of ‘law’ books and far too much football paraphernalia for the Gotham Rogues alongside several pictures of the guy’s wife and kids; a pair of wooden chairs that John swore were deliberately designed to be uncomfortable; and a boring desk with the same thin-client PC and sleek monitor as everyone else had, and yet two more family pictures, one of which had a King Charles spaniel John wanted to kidnap on principle of it being way too cute.

The tune kept playing in the background of his thoughts as he took a seat in the much-more-comfortable office chair. He made sure not to touch the arms.

Password-locked. Just as he’d thought.

John had watched very carefully as Hank typed away yesterday. It was something clearly easy for the guy to remember, because unlike some of the doctors and other staff, he didn’t dawdle over the keys or tap them lightly as they waited for their hippocampus’ reflex to kick in. He’d done the same motions several times during his last visit, which likely meant he used the same password for everything. (Dr. Song seemed to use various complex ones, if her odd typing methods were anything to go by.)

Which was good news for John, because he wasn’t sure what the password was.

He had some good guesses. It was something easy to remember, so something somewhat personal with a series of numbers at the end…so an anniversary of something was pretty likely.

John had remembered the areas of the keyboard Hank had used:   somewhere between one and four and eight and the dash sign on the top row; he’d had to use one finger to hold down the shift key for letter on the upper left, clearly not excelling at touch-typing; he was sure he hadn’t used the space or bottom row of letters, too. He had three tries to get it right before the account would get locked.

He took a moment to think.

Two distinct things in the guy’s otherwise very boring life was his family and football.

John knew the tricks to get into people’s protected FriendBook pages; he could try the anniversary of his marriage or birth of his kids, saved in a note on his phone.

Or he could look up the year the Gotham Rogues won last; it was before his time, he knew, because people wouldn’t stop hoping they’d go all the way every damn year.

Orrrr…

John flipped the keyboard over halfway with his palms. No sticky note there, unfortunately. He supposed he could poke around the desk a little more on the off-chance the guy had left it lying around carelessly like Bruce did with cash, but he was on limited time. He could risk looking and get his fingerprints all over the place, but why bother when he could just try to look it up?

Hm. Family, football, family, football…

John eyed the desk. The picture of the dog might as well have been taken by a professional photographer – it was all alone, as happy as could be, beaming up at the camera in a showy grassy yard with the perfect angle. The family portrait was a typical family photo with all the taste of Wonder Bread.

It was probably the dog, plus either the year it was adopted or the current one.

John mapped it out mentally on the keyboard. Woofles2019 seemed to fit pretty well with the pattern he remembered. It was worth a shot.

He put it in, waiting for the little wheel to finish spinning and give the ‘incorrect password’ message.

There was a soft da-ding, and John was looking right at the same outline of St. Dymphna holding the white lily to her chest that functioned as the clinic’s logo.

“Sheesh, why not just use password while you’re at it?” He snorted to himself.

John didn’t have too much time. He continued humming his little theme to himself to help count off.

He recognized the same enormous register of criminals that Bruce had access to back at the Batcave just sitting on the desktop. John was pretty sure Ian ‘Nito’ had done time for something, likely a drug habit if he’d left the facility after only a week.

At least it was a web-based registry rather than a whole program, so John could easily just delete the history there afterwards as long as he had the time. Well, if it would load fast enough…

John tapped his fingers on the mouse button gently, still keeping the rhythm as the page took it’s time to load. He wondered if Bruce ever had to deal with dumb inconveniences like this before he’d got the super-computer installed. There seemed be a few dozen guys (and non-guys, possibly) named Ian. A quick sort by crime, and the more timely Ian arrested that jumped out to John was Ian Coggs.

There was no ‘Ian Nito’ on file, but ‘Ian Coggs’ made John think of the word in-cog-nito.

It made John chuckle to himself. It was definitely the sort of thing John would do, if he were giving an alias with his own name. Well, if he could make a decent play on ‘John’ anyway. And he had decent makeup to cover his white-and-green tones.

The arrest photo taken several months ago was definitely the ‘Mr. Nito’ that John had seen, only the boring t-shirt Ian was wearing was covering up the tattoos more.

Ian Coggs, arrested for driving under the influence and possession of heroin. Notes included he had traces in his car indicating he might have had the intent to sell, but the charge didn’t stick, as there was no mass quantities in Ian’s car or apartment. He seemed to have served a short sentence and was ordered to check into a clinic.

Hmm… John took a picture of the screen with his phone, making sure to capture the last known address as clearly as possible.

John thought for a second – he could look up Ian’s patient file, too, now that he knew Ian’s full name. It was probably somewhere in some kind of share-drive.

The screen flickered, and a pop up informed him that the operating system was not licensed and please license it, would you? John rolled his eyes – a common issue with those sorts of old OS sitting on the network’s virtual machines. It was wonder they didn’t upgrade yet. The thing was practically a dinosaur.

He ignored it and did a quick search in the X-drive-marks-the-spot had Ian Coggs’ old data just sitting in a folder with his name on it. No handy doctor notes, of course, but there was a discharge form.

John skimmed it, interrupting his little background-tune with an intrigued hum. “Looks like Ian was moving to Bludhaven…”

He’d have to look up the new address later…

John was running out of time. He very quickly wiped away the last few bits of internet history on Hank’s machine and went back towards the door, counting the last couple of beats on his thigh. Three, two…

On one, John again became the ghost of Arkham’s hallways, silent and swift, leaving his tampering unnoticed as he closed the door behind him as softly as can be. Another successful heist on his mental tally; Arkham three, John…

He found himself stopping.

I’m not at Arkham anymore, he thought to himself. He blinked, staring straight down the hall.

Right. Right, it just…looked like the repainted Arkham, sometimes. Sneaking around like this just reminded him of it. That was all.

He resumed walking, clenching his hands and releasing them. He wished he had something else to touch for a bit. Just to make sure.

He reached the stairwell. He needed to get to the library on the second floor. It was open until lights-out at eleven and it was the best place he could get some privacy and a decent phone signal.

It was a short walk to the small room that smelt of overly stale cigarettes and books, with a hint of wood-polish underneath.

St. Dymphna wasn’t new. Arkham wasn’t either, not by a longshot, but at least it had a sizable selection in comparison, even if the tall metal bookcases were all kinds of dangerous. St. Dymphna had short cases, all in soft wood so no one would hurt themselves, all in a room about the size of Bruce’s master-bed-and-bath, half of which was occupied by un-squeaky tables and hushed conversations.

He casually weaseled his way towards the little stacks, pretending he belonged there as much as anyone else, and had a peek at his phone.

Four full bars – the best signal he could get.

Too bad his battery was at twelve percent.

John frowned down at the device, half wanting to break it on principle of it not behaving. He’d charged it just yesterday!

“Old fashioned way it is,” he muttered to himself.

Thankfully the reference section was always deserted. John knelt down and skimmed over the few little books of Gotham history – including one on crime statistics that probably should not be accessible to patients – and snatched the guide-to-the-state map book, feeling the weight and laminated paper cover in his hands.

John thumbed through the soft pages by flicking them like a deck of cards, and stopped right at Gotham.

He’d seen this same map before, years ago, when he was a very bored Arkham newbie who still didn’t know what Gotham was. It was a shiny thing, at the time, a beacon of freedom and mystery, a break from the madness and rust and rot of Arkham. It didn’t take long into cycling through the numerous news segments and headlines for John to realize it was a city with a criminal underbelly so obese that it was a wonder anyone could still be considered an honest citizen. It was fascinating, really, to go back as far as possible and learn just who and what had led to the then-current state of things. The power imbalances and shuffles of gangs, the creative ways people wanted to hurt each other, the things people did just to survive another day… He had hours of fun picking apart the reasoning and motives and predicting outcomes. It was a good thing to delve into when he was stuck without entertainment, which was often on his bad days.

John pulled out his phone and opened the picture he’d taken of Ian’s arrest entry:  his old place was at 511 N. Blade Street, Apt. 1005.

He traced his finger around, and North Blade Street was deep in what everyone referred to as “the Cauldron”, and naturally above South Blade Street. What highly appropriate name for roads; the Cauldron was a hotspot for the more basic criminal activities and lower gangs.

Kind of far to travel to get to the humble area of the Eastern Docks, but that was only if he still lived there. He probably did, if he was hanging around town, even if it was just temporarily. He wouldn’t put it past him to just muscle his way back in, either.

He flipped to the Bludhaven page. Ian supposedly moved to 900 Wanda Way.

Wanda Way was tucked into a tiny corner, off another road, but… There was no nine-hundred address. Wanda Way had addresses in the four-hundreds.

A four and a nine were easy to misinterpret if not written clearly, and the forms were filled out by hand and stamped by an authority figure before being scanned-and-typed in… The only question was, was it done on purpose?

Wanda Way sounded too much like “wander away”, and clearly the guy liked puns on his name, so John had the feeling he’d chosen whatever place was there just to throw everyone off.

The guy was clearly smarter than he looked…

John hummed. Now he just had to get someone to look at Ian’s old place and shake him down.

“Hey, clown,” someone said quietly, poking him in the back of the head.

John felt a surge of annoyance quick-boil his blood. Couldn’t they see he was busy? He wanted to throw the map book at the offender and start teaching them some manners.

But he grit his teeth and clenched the map a little too hard instead, blinking hard once to help push the urge away. It was still there, but he couldn’t let it out. “What?” He growled, turning around.

Mickey stood there, somewhat bewildered by…well, maybe he was actually seeing the roiling violent urge in John’s eyes. Mickey almost looked sheepish, suddenly, drawing the offending hand he’d poked John’s head with to tuck under his arms lying on the shelf. “Just tryin’ to get your attention,” he muttered, staring at him somewhat innocently with his chestnut brown eyes.

John had softened somewhat, seeing as it was only Mickey and not some new asshole trying to pick a fight. “You could always try saying my name, next time, Mick’.”

“I tried twice. You didn’t answer.”

“Third time’s the charm,” John shrugged with a little titter. “Sorry,” he added, not feeling it at all, “I just tend to get absorbed in things. What ‘cha need from little ol’ me, Mick’?”

“Just wanted to know what you were doing,” he mumbled, not looking at him.

What a terrible liar. He probably got caught with his hand in the cookie jar somewhere and wanted escape. “Miiick’, what did you dooo?” He teased, putting a hand on his hip like he was a disappointed parent.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Mm-hm. Let me guess – you said something a little too bold to someone and now they’re trying to find you.”

Mickey might as well have been sweating bullets as he turned his head to look around. “Maybe.”

John chuckled. “Who did you piss off? ‘Firecracker’ Fred? Abdul? Abdul looks like he could fight well… Ooh, was it Harper?”

“No, none o’ them.” Mickey turned back, glancing back at the front door, and suddenly ducked to the ground like he’d been shot. John heard him crawling on the floor around the case, and John could barely contain his curiosity, so he poked his head up above the shelf to see who had entered.

It was another one of the handful of women staying at the place, scanning the room with a hoity-toity sort of anger. Karen McCarthy - addicted to miscellaneous pills, wine, and pretending she was better than everyone else. John had all of two interactions with her, and disliked both of them.

“Don’t let her see me,” Mickey pleaded from the floor. John sank back down and tried to read Mickey’s face. Why on Earth was he scared of a woman less than half his weight class? Mickey grabbed onto his arm, begging like his life was on the line.

John knew that look. He’d seen it for years in Arkham - Mickey was scared out of his mind. “What did you do?” John whispered. Mickey was friendly with Devi, and seemed to keep his hands to himself. But that didn’t mean he was innocent.

“I just said that her art needed work,” he answered, his voice starting to waver. “She just…flipped out.” Mickey breathing awkwardly. “She just started yellin’, and…” His naturally tanned skin was paling more, shaken by the thought of it. “Don’t tell her I’m here. Please. ”

John didn’t have to. Hell, he could fake it and just let Karen look around all day long as Mickey found new, more entertaining places to hide.

But Mickey was clearly rattled. He hated loud noises and seemed to put up a tough-guy front with everyone. The fact that he was so scared of a middle-aged woman yelling at him that he ran away to hide suggested he might have a trauma surrounding such a thing.

If their situations were reversed, there wouldn’t be any promise of an eventual life with Bruce that would hold John back if Mickey let him be forced to confront his own traumatic experiences again.

Besides, saving him was the hero thing to do. And John could never be Bruce – not exactly – but somehow John was his hero, and who was he to let Bruce down?

“Go a few rows down and duck close to the stack,” John advised quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Mickey looked a little more confident as he gave a stiff nod and snuck away.

John put the map book back casually and stood, stretching his arms and craning his back like he’d been there for a while. Making himself as obvious as possible.

Sure as Batman stalked the night, John only had to turn like he was going to leave when he found Karen in his personal space, her beady eyes narrowed in determined dislike. “Where’s Mickey?” She asked, her French-tipped index finger pointing at his chin. “You know where he is?”

“Y’know, the first question really drove the point home, Karen. There’s no need to ask twice.”

Karen was trying to stand tall. Sort of hard, since she was almost two whole heads shorter than him. “Don’t get smart with me, John. Have you seen him or not?”

John gave a dramatic laugh, like he actually found the idea funny. (It helped that she was trying so hard to be fierce when John had faced the scariest people imaginable on a nearly daily basis.) It seemed to get her attention; her shrewd eyes were watching him carefully and she looked a little confused. “In here? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be?” She asked haughtily, clearly thinking he was insulting her.

“The guy can barely read a street sign! He’s so macho-illiterate I doubt he knows what a library even is,” John lied, thinking back to one of the more feral inhabitants at Arkham. Karen didn’t have to know he was talking about a different guy. “He’s probably hiding out in the men’s room by the fitness joing. It’s closer to home and he’ll think you won’t have the nerve to go in there.”

Karen clicked her tongue and looked even fiercer. “Oh, I won’t have to go in to give him a piece of my mind…”

Not that you have much to work with, John thought with all the bitterness he was brewing away inside.

“Thanks,” she said dismissively as she stormed away on her pointless little mission.

“No problem,” John said with a cheerful little wave, “you stupid jerk,” he added quietly, unable to hold it in. He didn’t care if she heard or not, but they were in a library, and raising his voice any more than he already did would be rude.

Once the offending lady was gone, John strolled over to Mickey’s hiding place, finding him with his arms around his knees. “She’s gone,” he said simply. Mickey was not standing to leave. He was staring at the shelves across from him with the same sort of vacant stare that John instantly recognized as dissociative. It wouldn’t be good to just leave him there. He knelt down and waved his hand in front of his eyes. “You home in there?”

“Huh?” Mickey came back to reality. “Sorry. I…” He clammed up for a moment. “I’m not good with women.”

“Ha! You and me both, Mick’,” John joked, nudging him slightly. “You get along with Devi just fine, though.”

“She’s different,” he muttered. “She’s not like…that.”

Talk about vague. Still, if John had any guess he’d bet on… “Abusive?”

Mickey drew in on himself a little. “Yeah. She’s calm. Doesn’t yell. Doesn’t belittle anyone. Doesn’t laugh at people for nothin’.”

Ah. That explained a few things. “Sheesh, I’m two out of three, there. It’s a wonder you talk to me.”

Mickey stared at him firmly. “You’re different, too,” he stated. “And you’ve been there.”

John was perplexed, for once. He hadn’t mentioned anything of his relationship with Harley to anyone, much less in a place Mickey could’ve heard.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up and be back there,” he explained, running a hand through his short crew-cut and staring at his worn tennis shoes. “In that house. Like nothing changed…”

Ohh, that’s what he’d meant when he said he ‘got’ why John didn’t want to go back to Arkham. Mickey had lived in an abusive place he was forced to call home for a long time.

John wasn’t going to pry further. He didn’t need to. Mickey had finally cracked open like the other eggs at Arkham, and John could see the yolk swimming in its translucent goo.

Mickey was clearly thinking about that trauma now, seeing as how it was at the forefront of everything. It’s wouldn’t be very good of John to leave him on his own now, even if Karen didn’t come back.

But could he risk letting Mickey in on the big mystery? Mickey wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he paid attention enough. A different point of view wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Well sitting there thinking about it all night’s not going to do you any favors,” John said with a nudge on his shoulder. “Trust me, every doc’ I’ve ever had tells me that! Ha ha!” Dial it back; that was too light-hearted. “I know something that will get your mind off it - always works for me, anyway: puzzles. And I’ve got one upstairs I could use some help on.”

“…okay.” Mickey stood by himself, clearly intent on leaving now. “I’ll get Devi, too.”

“The more, the merrier,” John shrugged. “Don’t wait up, I’ve got to make a call first.”

Mickey blinked, apparently examining him for any trace of a lie, and seemed satisfied. “Thanks, John.”

Finally, some decent recognition. “You’re welcome.”

Mickey stuck his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and walked away without another word or gesture that would indicate he had anything else to say.

So John did what he came there to do:  he pretended to be looking for something in the back rows until he seemed settled on something, and sank to the floor with his phone out.

He had to share his findings with Bruce. He couldn’t keep the knowledge of Ian Coggs’ name to himself for another day – he needed more information, but Bruce needed it even more, and surely he’d be ever-so-grateful that John had tossed a nice bundle of intel’ his way that Bruce would heap some praise onto him in beautiful voice of his.

John stared at his last message from Batman’s number.

Checking out Sionis’ place. Wish me luck.

John, of course, had wished him the best luck accompanied by ten heart emoticons. But that was last night, and there was no news on Roman Sionis suddenly being arrested or disappearing or anything like that today. So more than likely, Bruce was still looking for him...

He scrolled up a little. Apparently the guy whose charge-card was used to book the hotel room from the latest serial murder was claiming it was fraudulent charges. Naturally.

John looked at his contact list anyway. Calling Bruce on the job via his cell might interrupt him. He could try the ‘office’ - aka the Batcave - and see if he could catch him early and get him to do a tiny little search.

But he also didn’t want to bother him too much. Bruce had his plate piled high like he had the last clean one at a crowded buffet.

He could call Tiffany. She might be mad at Bruce - and somewhat rightfully so - but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t cooperate if he dangled the right bait.

Not to mention, Tiffany was less likely to be busy. He doubted they made up yet, so she probably wasn’t at the cave. He chose her cell, deciding that if she didn’t pick up, he’d try the cave next.

One...two… John gave a low little whistle as it continued to ring, the little theme song cycling back around again. Five...six…

Rustle, rustle. “...hello?”

“Hi-ya, Tiff’,” he greeted, listening for anything in the background to give away where she was, “What’cha doin’?”

“Well I was eating,” she answered somewhat grumpily, sounding like she had her mouth half-full. “You better have something good to interrupt my biryani.”

He could hear a slight hum, like a high-powered fan on a computer. There was no echo - she wasn’t in the cave. Likely at home. (Didn’t Bruce mention her sharing an apartment?) “Can you do me a teeensy favor?”

“What kind?” It wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t curious enough. Still, he could run with it.

“The firewall-breaching and record-lookup kind. I’d do it, but I don’t have the skills to break into records on a cell.” He tapped on his knee, choosing his next words carefully. “Which is why I’m asking you - you could break into BlackGate’s network with a screwdriver and one of those vendor-locked phones for kids.”

“I’ll have to add that to my bucket list,” she joked. A good sign. “What are you trying to break into?”

“Whatever’s at 400 Wanda Way in Bludhaven.”

Click-click-clack. “Haven’s Helping Hand?”

“Ooh-hoo, sounds legit.” Which meant Ian picked the place. He probably never set foot in it, but it was worth a look just to make sure.

“...so, what’s this for? You got a lead on our Chandis killer?”

“I wish,” John huffed, “but it is related to it. Our resident flying mammal is running around looking for B.M. and his lackeys and hasn’t had any luck; I think I’ve found one of them.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, since my friends here are working at places our main baddie has his sticky fingers in, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that mine was recently visited by someone who clearly takes orders from a boss; especially when I’m right down the street from the other little practices.”

“Wait, how’d you know Black Mask is involved with-?”

“Long story,” John interrupted casually, not wanting to delve into that, “Anyway, I also know the guy last lived at apartment 1105 at 511 North Blade Street. Since he’s definitely in Gotham there’s a chance he’d return to his old place.”

“Could be worth a look. Got a name?”

He couldn’t resist a good setup like that. “Why Tiff’, you know I’m called John,” he joked, giggling a little at how she must be pulling that annoyed face.

“...keep going like that and I’ll hang up on you.” She didn’t sound like she really meant it. John ticked off that little checkbox in his head.

“Okay, okay, sorry. It’s Ian Coggs - two ‘g’s.”

A bit of silence followed. John waited patiently, drumming his leg in the same rhythm as the old spy-show tune in his head.

“I’m surprised you’re not running to Bruce with this,” Tiffany mentioned.

“What, he’s not still out chasing the golden goose on top of our other two murderers’ shadows?” Of course he was. John felt it in his gut; Bruce was looking for anything, any shadow, any miniscule thing that might be a break.

“...probably.” It wasn’t quite a scoff - he could practically see her shrugging along like she was pretending very hard not to care.

“Besides, why wouldn’t I tell you? You were part of the team before me,” he said slyly.

Tiffany gave a little sputtering noise. “Doesn’t feel like it. If we swapped places, he’d let you do almost anything.”

That was a little true, but he wasn’t about to say that. He had the perfect opportunity sitting there and he wasn’t going to let it go. “Nah, he wouldn’t,” John answered, knowing there were several things he would absolutely not be allowed to do, “I mean, I might be ‘the adult’ but you’ve got more in the training department. And a better head on your shoulders; mine’s factory defective,” he finished with a giggle at his own joke.

She gave a sort of humph that he took to mean she was mildly amused. Bruce had done the same thing sometimes, with that little upturn in the corner of his lips. John wondered if it was something Tiffany had picked up from being around Bruce so often.

“Of course, you could always prove it to him,” John continued smoothly, pretending to be thinking it over, “If our guy coughs up enough, you’d practically be delivering B.M. on a silver platter.”

She was quiet; she was thinking it over. “You work near the docks; if he’s still in the Cauldron, it’d be a heck of a commute for him.”

“Hey, when the boss calls, you go anywhere.”

“True… I think it’s worth checking out.” John grinned and pumped his fist in triumph, tapping the floor with his shoes as much as he dared. Mission accomplished - he’d pulled the right strings, and now Tiffany was going to search the place for him! “Haven’s almost done cracking.”

John heard an annoying beep in his ear, souring his good mood a little; he pulled away, and sure enough the battery was at seven percent. “Hey, Tiff’, my battery’s dying and I get a pretty shitty signal everywhere else; you’ll have to text me what you find.”

“...it’s St. Dymphna, right? Which room are you in?”

Well, he didn’t expect that as a response. “Um, 308.”

“When’s lock-down?”

“Eleven...” He was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at. “There’s no fire escape or anything for you to land on, though.”

“But your window opens?”

“Yeah, a little...”

“Then it’s no problem. I can swing by in about an hour, hour and a half. I’ll be patrolling around there later anyway.”

“Well, uh, if that works for you…” He grinned to himself; a personal report, too? That could only mean he was growing on her, which meant more information on the goings-on, a happier Bruce, and one less stressful relationship for John to mull over.

Of course, she might just want to make sure he was behaving. Or seeing if she could gather any indication as to what he’d been up to and try to analyze him as much as he did everyone else… John shook the thought. Tiffany was a smart cookie, but she wasn’t on Iman or Bruce’s level of psychoanalysis. Even if she was trying to gather personal info’ on him, she wouldn’t know exactly what went on his head.

“See ya later, then, Tiff’,” he said simply, before remembering that Tiffany did not wear the same sort of armor that Bruce did, “And be careful; the guy packs heat on his right hip.”

“Thanks. Later.”

John hung up, feeling a sort of smug satisfaction. He’d be one step closer to delivering Black Mask to Batman’s doorstep and getting Dymphna cleared of any exploitive activity. And Black Mask himself would shed some light on whoever was pissed at him, solving the other puzzle that nagged at John’s already-messy mind.

Though, speaking of Dymphna and puzzles… John supposed it was time to get some other input.

*~*~*~*~*

“Look, it can’t be either of them, either,” John stressed, pointing to the map of Gotham he’d printed out a week ago on his wall, “Falcone’s dead, and when Maroni got shuffled off to the big house, half the city’s territory – these yellow flags – went up for grabs while their leftovers played follow-the-leader with a bunch of headless-”

“John,” Mickey interrupted, staring at him from John’s chair in the corner, “You’re doing it again.”

Devi flicked her butterfly knife open and closed from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting on several pillows she’d brought from her room. John likened it to chewing gum; just a little something to do to pass time. “He’s trying to say Macaroni and Fal-cone’s old running crews split up into their own groups, Mick’.”

“Then he should just say it,” Mickey muttered, crossing his arms and looking at his feet with an embarrassed scowl.

John resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. “Devi, it’s Ma-roni.”

“I know what I said,” she smirked, flicking the knife open and closed again. “I like him better as a noodle.”

It was funny enough to make John chuckle, but it didn’t cool his temper. John was clearly not meant to be a teacher with how frustrated he was already getting. He didn’t know how Bruce had the patience for it. “Still. They’d normally be good contenders, but their groups are usually the kind to just get reabsorbed into other gangs, and our guy Black Mask-”

“Roman Sionis,” Devi stated, gesturing to the piece of paper John had taped up to the wall.

���- yes, him – likely picked most of the mafia’s less-loyal stragglers up. He’d provide the structure the need.” John circled the little areas he knew the loyalist parts were active in. “The ones who didn’t are a lot smaller in number now, probably still hovering around these little parts they used to haunt.”

“So what does this have to do with the ship?” Mickey asked, trying to follow John’s map marks. “You said that was Roman’s territory now.”

“That’s my point,” John huffed, deciding it was better to try and walk the annoyance out rather than say something he’d regret, “He’s got all this territory,” he gestured to the map as he made strides to their side of the room, “all these people under him, so why kill the informant? Why leave the drugs behind and make it so obvious that it was a hit when they could’ve just stolen the ship?”

“Woah, back up a sec’, hon’,” Devi interjected, leaning forward like she was interested. “You didn’t say anything about an informant.”

He didn’t? He could have sworn… Well, it didn’t matter. He’d explain it. “Ok, so – there’s five guys in the warehouse, right?” John held up his hand to gesture along, glimpsing the green nail polish still there. “Main guy, subordinate, two guards, and Muddy. Their van explodes – from the inside – and they all race out the one door with whatever firearms they have so they can escape. The shooter snipes the guards first, then the subordinate, but the de-facto leader gets the farthest away – the shooter had to get him in the leg first,” John emphasized with a gun motion at an invisible target’s leg, “then the chest. Muddy should’ve been out before the leader, but he’s captured instead.”

“So…Muddy planted the bomb?” Mickey asked.

“Yes!” John pointed at Mickey. “Exactly! He planted the bomb, he knew to leave last so he wouldn’t get shot up like the rest, and he knew when the ship was coming in!” He paced to them, thinking. “But that’s what I don’t get – if they had a guy on the inside high up enough on the chain that he was trusted with receiving that large a package, why did they kill him? Muddy could’ve provided all kinds of information in the long run - why rely on him for this one thing when he could’ve been their main plant in the whole operation? They could’ve found the Volto and Bauta heads and taken control of the area!” He smacked the map on the wall briefly, continuing to pace as his mind churned out everything he’d been mulling over. “And even if they were done with him, why not just leave him there with the rest?!”

Devi snapped her knife closed. “John-”

“Why make it an execution?! Why give him a gangster’s death twice?!”

“John.”

“And if it was all just revenge, why didn’t they wait until they could meet Black Mask personally to kill him, too?! Hell, blow his whole house up sky-fucking-h-!”

“JOHN.”

John suddenly found himself stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room with Devi’s hands on his shoulders.

“You’re ramblin’ again,” she said, smiling gently up at him and patting his shoulders. “Just take a breath, J’.”

He wasn’t rambling, he was just talking fast and trying to get all the thoughts out that had been piled in his brain for the past several days.

...but it wasn’t worth arguing over. Devi and Mickey didn’t have his sort of brain chemistry; they wouldn’t get it. It was easier to just ‘calm down’ even if it wasn’t necessary. It’s not like it would hurt.

John breathed in and out, clenching and unclenching his fists in time for several beats. Sure enough, he did feel calmer. Not that he wanted to, but...still.

“There ya go,” Devi soothed, patting him gently. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he lied. He wasn’t, he wanted to get it all out, just say everything that had been on his mind for the past several days. Wanted to just make them sit there, a captive audience, and ask everything even if he didn’t get an answer.

“Good. You’re onto somethin’.”

John blinked. “...I am?”

Mickey hummed to himself a little in thought. “I know why.”

John felt more confused. “Why what?”

“Why they didn’t wait to meet Black Mask. You said no one in his gang has seen his face - your guy has.” Mickey said with a little shrug.

Devi gave a little ooh. “Whaddya know, Mick’, we’re on the same page,” she said brightly with an impressed tilt of her head.

That would mean the killer knew Black Mask was Roman Sionis. “But why wouldn’t they just go directly to…” The second he said it aloud it clicked. It was why they left the drugs behind, why they drilled it home it was a hit – a herring in maraschino red.  It wasn’t about strictly killing Roman, but eventually taking his place. “It’s an inside job.”

“Ya said it yourself, J’,” Devi shrugged, “Those gangs he picked up ain’t loyal. Besides, you crossed off everyone else.”

Of course. It wasn’t some rival gang, it was someone in his gang, leading them all to believe it was a rival to throw Black Mask off the scent! That stupid sign with the bodies was just another herring! John had been looking up the wrong thing for days, hunting for a shadow!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. At the whole ridiculous thing. How utterly silly they’d been.

And he caught himself remembering that random laughter wasn’t something most people took kindly to a little too late. Devi was glancing between his eyes as if to guess if he was having a manic episode. Mickey was stock-still, watching him with something similar. “S-sorry,” he said, trying to cover the last bit, “It’s just funny how dumb I’ve been. I mean, really, really dumb.”

They looked a little more convinced.

John rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub the awkward feeling away as he stared right back at Devi, trying to let her see how sane he was. “Really, I would’ve just kept going in circles without-”

John felt like everything in the world had slowed to a crawl:  a dot of red rolled over Devi’s hair where her temple was, climbing up and disappearing like it had never been there in an instant.

It was like something in him woke up – he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forward, hearing glass shatter before they even hit the hard tiled floor.

He felt the impact in his knees. Real.

Mickey tumbled out of the chair as Devi swore and John rolled away from her to force his back against the wall between them. He heard the thud of his shoulders hitting the wall. Real.

“What the hell-” she started, losing the rest as she spied the little hole in the wall where John’s head had been seconds ago. “Ohh, what the fuck.”

John was looking at the new shattered hole in the window, hearing his heart in his ears.

Someone shot at him. Someone had a laser scope and a long-range rifle. Someone was sitting out there, waiting for him to reappear, or waiting long enough to move positions and get him while they were sitting there.

“What do we do?” Mickey asked in a less-than-steady voice as he curled his legs to his chest. “What the fuck do we do?”

Devi shifted forward, looking like she was going to crawl for it. “We’re gettin’ the fuck out, that’s-”

John grabbed Devi’s arm and pulled her back with a hard yank. “NO!” She almost smacked back against the wall. “Look at the HOLE!” John gestured slightly to the bullet hole in the wall. “It’s lower than the entry one; they can see the floor!”

“Devi,” Mickey rushed, “You have a phone; you can call the cops!”

No, there was only one ofthose that could really be trusted -

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’ve seen how that shit goes! I’m black and John was tried insane – your half-Puerto Rican ass is the only one of us that can pass for one of their crowd! They’ll kill us just for sittin’ here!”

They could call Batman, but he was out chasing Black Mask, too far to -

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” Mickey interjected too loudly, the sound breaking John’s already fragile grip on his temper.

“Will both of you just shut up and let me THINK?!” John shouted, slamming his fists on his bruised knees.

Silence settled in, but it felt like the thing inside of John was rattling the cage.

They felt it too, surely – the flight signal had been lit in their brains, but there was nowhere for them to go. John tapped his legs with his fingers one-by-one, feeling the material of his purple slacks as they made impact. Think, think, think – what do you know for sure, John?

There was nowhere to hide. Standing was out of the question. Crawling was just as deadly. They were all like carnival ducks stuck in their stall, brightly lit under a long fluorescent bulb, just waiting for the kid with the gun to aim just right.

They hadn’t been shot yet. Either the would-be killer was waiting for them, or changing position to the wall.

They couldn’t call out for help. Anyone who came in would be shot.

But they couldn’t stay there. If the shooter was smart, they would move after a bit to re-adjust.

So they’d have to throw him off.

John stared up at the long bulb, his mind whirling…

There was the obvious solution:  one of them could risk running for the light-switch.

It was almost sickening how easily he could imagine either of them bleeding on the floor by the switch…

When he thought about it, he was used to being by himself, but he was never going to be used to being alone. With his psychosis’ voices blocked out through his anti-psychotics, he’d found he’d missed the constant company, even if they didn’t always make sense or play nice with his brain.

But here he was, with real every-day company again. The kind that did, in fact, play nice and make sense. The kind that didn’t play mind-games or threaten him or let him get too riled up just to see what he would do. The kind that wouldn’t try to kill Batman if the opportunity arose, or kill him if they thought it was necessary. They weren’t constant, but they were there, as real as he was – he could hear them breathing and feel their fear in the air.

He couldn’t treat them like they were just means to an end.

The looked at the large fluorescent bulb in the ceiling, wishing it would flicker for a few seconds like the old Arkham ones did, and felt his own lightbulb power on.

“I’ve got it!” He grinned triumphantly, slapping his legs and feeling the sweet sting it left, “We need to break the lightbulb!”

Devi shot a look at it, then at him. “With what?”

“Something hard enough to shatter the glass?” John suggested with a chuckle. He supposed they could toss her butterfly knife, but it might not be heavy enough; they’d have to hit the right point. “The chair would work.”

Mickey looked at the desk chair by his feet. He was clearly rattled, huddled in on himself and looking pale. “It’s kind of big.”

“Don’t tell me those biceps are for show,” John teased, poking his arm, “Even I can lift that.” Mickey didn’t seem convinced. “Look, Mick’, you’ve got the corner. There’s no way the shooter can see you. You just need to squat and flip it up like it’s a table,” John said, gesturing the up motion with his palms.

“Mick’,” Devi said, “he’s right. You’re closest.”

Mickey stared at them both, then at the chair, and sighed slowly through his nostrils. “I guess there’s worse ways to go,” he grumbled, pulling the chair towards him.

“You’ve got this,” John said, flashing him a thumb’s up.

Mickey sneered a bit, but he still squat down rigidly and flipped the chair up into the ceiling, hitting its mark – there was the tinkling crash of breaking glass and a buzz of shorted electricity, and John instinctively covered his head as glass rained down and the chair clattered to the floor.

When he looked back up, they were all sitting in the dark. It was almost like being back in the Old Five Point’s office, where he had hidden while the Agency poked their noses in places they shouldn’t have been.

But that was the old John. New John wasn’t scared. Angry, of course, but he was almost…

Thrilled.

Yes… Toeing the line of danger, on a rescue mission for himself and his friends…  

John giggled, feeling ridiculous by how excited he was during such risky business. “Good job, Mickey. Got it in one.”

Glass shattered and a vwoop noise followed as the shooter fired again, causing Devi to push closer to him with a shout. The shot was a little closer to the edge of the dim light coming in through the window. A red dot disappeared, as if the shooter was turning the scope on and off.

A warning - they could still see in, they weren’t going anywhere.

Like hell they weren’t.

“Mickey, can you hand me my phone?” John asked politely. Mickey pulled it down by the cord, as if he thought the shooter could see it sitting there out of view of the window, and shoved it into John’s waiting hand. “Thaaank you!”

Tiffany was already on her way there - he could just tell her to hurry up. Or send that nice drone with the laser attachment.

John tapped his foot along with the rings. It was only three this time before Tiffany picked up, and she was clearly outside somewhere, because he could hear the wind rush by.

“Hey, how far away are you?” He asked quickly, keeping his eye on the window for any glimpse of the laser sight.

“A -” the voice cut off - “minutes. Why-”

“Okay, I can barely hear you, so long story short, I’m being shot at from someone on the building opposite me and would really appreciate some help.”

He could barely hear her over the wind and occasional break in the line. He was pretty sure it sounded like a surprised “what” and then something unintelligible.

“Yeah, so I still can’t hear you. I don’t know what they look like but I’m guessing they’re on the roof, the shots are angled down.”

Another shot came through the glass, closer to the corner.

“Aaand that’s our queue to leave! Hurry, okay?!”

John hung up, knowing she’d be there fast enough, but wondering if she’d be smart enough to hit them from behind or not. Unless they had a watchguard, which they could, depending on who they were…

There was no time for thinking about that. It was time to get out before the shooter decided to move enough so they could see them in the dim streetlamp.

They definitely couldn’t just run across. The pile of glass in the middle of the floor was a hazard on top of the fact they’d be seen. They couldn’t get around the little desk, either, since it was likely visible; they’d have to press flush against the wall to go under the window.

Or...they had to completely shroud themselves in darkness.

“None of you happen to have a stapler or somethin’, do ya?” Devi asked, holding something in her lap. “I’m tryin’ to think of how we can pin this to the window….”

John was impressed for a moment, having been thinking of somehow getting the sheet from his bed or the dresser to do it, but the feeling gave way to something more like a sinking stone plummeting to the bottom of his stomach.

She had been sitting on the blanket Bruce had gotten him when he was still in Arkham. It was the first thing he’d given him when he’d been put away; a green cashmere blend so soft that John almost wondered if it wasn’t made from clouds.

John yanked it out of her hands and clutched it to himself. “You were sitting on it?”

“The floor’s cold,” Devi stated plainly, not intimidated in the slightest. “Besides, you borrow my blanket when you sit in my room.”

That was true. He couldn’t resist covering himself in something as wild as neon-orange leopard with little skulls, even if it was only for a bit. But Bruce didn’t give that to her, she didn’t clutch it around her shoulders when she wanted to remember getting it, the cute look on Bruce’s face, the utter satisfaction John felt as he got under it for the first time and thought how finally, it was warm in Arkham…

He gripped it, telling himself that Bruce could buy a hundred more in as many colors and weights as John wanted when he got out. Enough to make the biggest blanket fort possible over the biggest mountain of blankets possible.

There was no stapler or anything handy, and he couldn’t shove them in the corners of the window… But someone could hold it.

John squinted at the window. He could stretch his arm across and cover it like a curtain; the pane and exterior walls were thick enough not to be pierced with bullets.

The chair was still on the floor. He was surprised no one had come running yet, with all the noise… There was a doctor underneath his room, gone for the day, naturally… But surely one of his neighbors might have heard.

Unless they just thought he was throwing a fit and didn’t want to get involved… Fine time for them to be ignoring him.

John rolled the blanket into a thin tube and swept it over the floor, pushing the shards of glass towards the chair as much as he could, flinching as another bullet pierced the wall.

He pulled the leg of the chair towards him by his foot, moving it slowly at first just to angle it right, and then yanked it towards him as another gunshot came through. Just as he thought, they were definitely targeting motion.

“Mickey, you’re gonna have to move.”

The burlier man eyed the chair warily. “I’m not standing up on that.”

John scowled as he stood to his full height, an urge to kick him only outweighed by the knowledge that one wrong move could hurt them both far worse. “For Pete’s sake, just move over next to Devi and stop acting like you’re going to die if you twitch out of line! I’m trying to save you, here!”

Mickey frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but closed it just as soon as he’d started, settling on just glaring back and doing as he was told, shuffling as John stepped over him to the corner.

“Now, don’t move until I tell you,” he emphasized, wagging a finger at both of them, “and when you do, crawl close to the floor.”

Once he stood (somewhat wobbly) on the chair by the corner, just barely out of sight of the window, John stretched out his hand in front of him, draping the blanket over it like he was pulling out the edge of a cape to do a dramatic reveal.

Pieces of glass wedged themselves in his bare arm. He could feel blood dribble out, feel the sting of cut flesh, feel a little spike in adrenaline and a familiar stir in his core that sent a tingle in his head…

Things looked clearer, somehow. His vision was always twenty-twenty, but somehow things felt sharper, and not just because little edges were digging into him. Without thinking, he knew all this, what he was feeling right now, was all very real.

He adjusted it to cover his arm with a little less glass-digging-into-skin, and upon draping it just right, it felt like he was almost a magician, covering the trick box from the audience’s view as the assistant did the rest.

“Ladies and Gentleman, the disappearing bullets trick!” John joked as he quickly shoved his arm over the top pane of the window.

It was just long enough to cover it completely, and there came a wonderful hush in the audience.

He could feel his heart in his ribs, pounding away like it was counting off beats, waiting, waiting, waiting…

Crash!

Crash-crash-crash-crash-!

Beams of light appeared one by one like tiny spotlights as the window. John barely flinched as he counted off the sounds.

At the count of ten, it went quiet.

John waited a beat, then two, and grinned wider. “And, ohh-ho, they’re gone!” John chuckled, “What a maroon... Okay, now you guys can go.”

“...what about you?” Devi asked, not moving.

“Just go,” John brushed off, not wanting to think about possible magazine refills, “Watch the glass.”

There were no more words, just the little thuds and occasional little crunch of glass telling them they were crawling as fast as possible. John held the blanket steady, thinking as he hoped the shooter didn’t decide to pack an extra magazine.

He could he risk peeking out across the way? Was the shooter keeping a few rounds in the chamber, waiting for his face to appear? Had they given up?

He might not see anything, but if he did, he would know at least the vague height of whoever was standing on the building three or four car-lengths away with a rifle, intent on killing him for whatever reason they had.

The door opened, letting in more light from the hallway, and Devi was the first to sneak through. John spied shiny spots of blood on her arms before she disappeared from view.

Mickey scrambled out after her, similar dots visible on his palms as he stood up.

John let the blanket fall to the floor as he heard them both call out for help. The noise faded into the background as he carefully took his phone out of his pocket. The little binocular lens clipped over the camera with a plastic snap, and John breathed in, smelling copper and the spring air of May, and slid his phone’s lens over the edge of the window, zooming in further on the building in the distance.

At first, he didn’t see anything. The camera was great, but it wasn’t exactly made for night use, even with the adjustments he made to the settings. Just black on a dark building, barely lit by the streetlamp.

But he moved it around a little, trying to get the exact angle the shooter must have been at, and he saw it.

A figure in the distance, barely seen at first, just a dark shape.

And then he spotted the drone with a spotlight, flashing over the figure’s back, and John pressed the record button just in time.

The figure whirled around with their long rifle in hand and smacked the drone right out of the air and to the floor, and seemed to hit it again, a flash of light showing off their silhouette again. One more smash seemed to satisfy them, but John could see them suddenly perk up straight, as if they heard something, and then they were gone, a black blob disappearing into the night with a whirl of a…

No. Not a cape. It was as if they were wearing a long coat.

He kept watching, almost hoping he’d see them come back so he could get a proper look at their face, but instead, he saw a figure glide down to the roof, too sleek to be Batman, and seem to rush to check if the shooter was still nearby, a second drone flying from their hip to scout ahead.

“John Doe?” A voice called from the hallway, light but smokey from years of tobacco use. An orderly - Todd something-or-other. “Are you still in there?”

“Yeah,” he called back, tucking his phone back in his pocket, “I am.”

“Keep away from the window. Police are on their way. I’m staying right outside this door, you just keep talking to me.”

“You don’t need to,” John answered, hopping off the chair and stumbling slightly, crunching over bits of broken glass here and there. “The guy’s already gone.” He pulled down the pages he’d taped to his wall, not wanting anyone to start thinking he was spreading some kind of conspiracy theory, and lingered on the piece he’d written ‘Ian Coggs’ visited Stitched Up Alt.’ on.

Something wasn’t right. The way Ian had looked at him that day, like he hadn’t expected him to be there. He seemed to have reported seeing him to Black Mask, but why would they go after him? Why would they care?

What was one mentally ill guy with a forgotten past to a guy like Roman Sionis?

*~*~*~*~*

John wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen after an incident like getting shot at by a sniper in the middle of the night, but he didn’t expect to be stuck waiting in St. Dymphna’s medical center. Devi and Mickey seemed adamant about not straying too far from him, despite the lengths the active officers on duty seemed to go to, shoving John in a corner bed as the nurse picked out the glass from his arm and they attempted to ask him questions while he repeatedly told them he wouldn’t talk until his lawyer arrived.

And good ol’ Reggie had practically come running on his short, square legs. He probably smelled a lawsuit waiting to happen. That, or Batman had ‘a talk’ with him about responding to anything to do with John as fast as possible after the whole thing with Dr. Crane.

John suspected it was a combination of both.

He was expecting Bruce, though, who hadn’t shown up yet. He didn’t mind if Batman didn’t make an appearance, but what felt like half an hour into the vocal probing, he found himself really, really wanting some comfort. There was only so many distasteful looks and thinly-veiled remarks he could take, even if they weren’t all directed at him.

“I told you, I’m not movin’,” Devi repeated for the third time, sitting quite still against the back of her own bed several spots over. She had the same sort of gauze bandage as him, only she had them on both arms, and some plasters under her short sweatpants where little glass pieces had stuck to her knees.

“If you’re sure,” Dr. Farms seemed to sigh, “Your sister said she’d be on the way. We’ll keep an orderly at the door in case there’s any trouble.”

Devi snorted. “These two aren’t trouble,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not wearing this t-shirt for nothin’, you know.” She gestured to the word ‘kickass’ spelled there in glittery cursive.

Reggie was quick-reading over the statement John had made, the end of his pen trailing underneath. John had left out the part of him using his phone, of course. He wanted to just grab it out from under his pillow and call Bruce himself. “And this is all correct?” Reggie asksed, tapping the fountain pen at the end of the pad of paper.

“Yup.” John swung his legs slightly over the edge of the thin mattress, gently digging his fingers into the fabric. He couldn’t do it too hard, or it’d attract attention.

“You counted fourteen shots?”

“Yuup.”

“...and how did you know when you could let the other two leave?”

“When no more shots came through. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Hm.” Reggie tapped the cap end of the pen against the paper. “This is acceptable.”

John couldn’t back the question burning in his head. The one he didn’t want a bad answer to. “So...what happens now?”

“Standard police procedure, they’ll investigate, ask follow-up questions - the usual,” Reggie answered, “As for your continuing treatment, I believe they’re still figuring out where you’ll be staying until the police clear this up.”

“What?!” Devi leaned forward, a few of her long thin braids falling over her shoulder. “You mean he’s not stayin’ here?”

“He can’t stay in an active crime scene,” the lawyer went on in his no-nonsense voice, “Especially not when he might have been the intended victim.”

“But he’s the reason Mick’ and I are even alive!”

“That doesn’t factor into the decision,” Reggie answered coolly.

“I don’t care,” Devi slid off her bed and joined John’s, crossing her arms and giving Reggie the stink eye, “I’m not lettin’ him go to one of those shitty state homes.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you. It’s up to St. Dymphna and the G.C.P.D.”

Them? They had a say in this?

No. No, no, no. He knew what they were going to do. What they wanted to do. He felt his lip twitch backwards and his stomach seize as something white hot hit him.

“I’m not going back to Arkham,” John said with all the restraint on the furious being under his skin he could.

Reggie’s fingers had twitched in a flinch, and he cast a look at John. “I’ll give this to Officer Hutton and remind him of that.”

Devi watched him go with a scrutinizing squint. “You doin’ okay, there, John?”

“Ha, no!” John answered honestly, finding no need to restrain his feelings any more. He felt the other end of the mattress sink; Mickey had sat down on his other side. “Just got shot at, interrogated unnecessarily, and now…” He crossed his arms, wanting to feel something remotely comfortable as the boiling point in his started to wind down to a simmer. “I’d rather have faced that sniper with nothing but a paperclip than go back to Arkham.”

Devi put her arm around his back, pulling him into a bit of a side hug. “I’ll kick their asses if anyone tries to put you in there.”

Mickey gave a chuckle. “Ditto.” He gave John a small smirk. “They’re gonna shuffle us ‘round to who-knows-where, but I’ll be damned if I let them throw you back. Not after you saved me twice in one day.”

John felt more of his anger ebbing away. He felt more grateful than anything, but there was that nice warm feeling that came with people doing genuinely nice things for him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you guys earlier.”

Mickey shrugged. “Better than losing my head.”

“Apology accepted. But it’s no big deal,” Devi said with a knowing little smile, “I’ve looked the devil in the eyes while only wearing a thong. It’s gonna take a lot more than that for you to get under my skin.”

John felt a giggle pass over him. “Better not let a doctor hear that - they’ve got scalpels.”

“That’s awful,” Mickey said with a shake of his head.

“Speakin’ of doctors,” Devi muttered, pulling out something from her pocket and sliding it into John’s palm, “Here.”

It was her butterfly knife. John had almost forgotten how oddly nice it felt to hold one. Light, dangerous, dexterous… The rainbow sheen on the metal was cute, but the fact that she was willing to just hand it to him, all trustworthy-like, was what made him smile, and made that warm feeling grow. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Doesn’t matter where you end up - Gothamites are bound to try somethin’ with you,” Devi said with a little shrug. “Besides, you could always pick a lock with it and run away, if you had to.”

“Run away to where?” John chuckled, “Bruce’s place is pretty far from all the funny farms.”

Mickey gave a short hum of thought and pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here.”

A key card for the Lucky Hotel.

“Better than nothin’.”

“You guys…” John almost felt like he was tearing up. No, scratch that, he was. “You guys are the best.” He put both gifts away (in separate pockets, of course) and laid back to grab his phone from under the pillow. The cops were all discussing matters amongst themselves, not even glancing their way. “You know what this calls for?” He pulled the camera app up and threw his arms around both of their shoulders. “A group shot!”

“Ooh, hold on,” Devi shifted, tilting her head just right for the camera angle, and smiled. “Okay, that’s better.”

Mickey shook his head, an amused smile on his square face. “I knew you two were crazy.”

“Ha ha, like you aren’t?” John ribbed. “Smile!”

A little click, and John thought it was one of the best he’d taken. Definitely one for the album.

And then, in the moment of silence afterwards, John heard it:  the instantly recognizable voice that wove in and out of his dreams, good and bad, real and unreal.

Bruce passed through the thin wall of police and doctors with the unmistakable stride of Batman, the sight hitting John like a jolt to the heart. Confidence, determination, power – it all came through in his steps, as reassuring and steady as the sunrise. It didn’t matter if he was in street clothes or bearing a five-o’clock shadow, it was Bruce’s Batman politely telling the doctor in his ‘fuck you’ voice that he wasn’t letting him stay there a minute longer.

John felt a hand push on his back, and barely heard to little ‘go ahead’ Devi whispered to him.

He didn’t care what was in his way. He didn’t stop moving until he was right in Dr. Song and Bruce’s space, not taking his eyes off Bruce for a moment.

“John,” Dr. Song said with a slight cough, forcing his focus over to her, “Bruce has offered to take temporary guardianship of you while the state goes through its’ investigation. As you’re a ward of the state in our care, you don’t have to say-”

“Yes,” John said, noticing Bruce looking him over like he was thinking of possible injuries, “I’m saying yes.”

Dr. Song seemed to have expected that. “Your lawyer and his are talking, but I made it quite clear that your current treatment is to be followed to the letter. I still want you to report for our scheduled therapy, and you’ll still have to make the appointments set by Mr. Casselli and Officer Kane.”

“That’s fine.”

“Medicine has to be taken strictly by our current regime.”

“Of course.”

“Work hours will still have to be met, if possible.”

“Makes sense.” Dr. Song looked like she was trying to find any reason John wouldn’t agree with. “Really, doc’, you act like I’m not going to come back,” John said with a light chuckle, “I kind of need that certificate of sanity, you know.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting in to.”

Oh, believe me, I know, John thought to himself, not daring to say it aloud. “I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, sounding as confident as half of him felt.

She seemed a little more at ease. “I’ll draft up the prescriptions.”

The second she was turned away, John trapped Bruce in his arms, intent on feeling the warmth radiate from beneath his plain white button down into his chest, and suddenly felt more…vulnerable than before. He knew he was safe – he was with Bruce – but when Bruce lightly held him back and said ‘it’s okay’ in that soothing, meaningful voice, the little walls in John collapsed, and he found himself clinging onto him for life and falling for him all over again.

*~*~*~*~*

Notes:  

Congratulations, John, you officially made two new friends!!! °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° I’m so proud of you!!!

Thank you all for your continuing support!!! *.⋆( ˘̴͈́ ॢ꒵ॢ ˘̴͈̀ )⋆.* I hope you can feel my love radiate from the screen!

As you can tell, I had a heck of a time with this chapter. Sure, it’s almost a full week later than previously thought, but look how much stuff happened! It wasn’t originally planned to be this long - but hey, John needs to bond with people, so damn it, I’m gonna write it and make it believable! I had fun making use of the “camera feature” here and adding in investigation choices and a new time-out feature. And I had loooots of fun bringing out our vigilante!Joker in John throughout! I hope I did our boy justice! I reconsidered and rewrote a lot, but I’m pretty dang happy with how much I’ve laid out so far and what this chapter’s accomplished. Especially the little things I’ve hidden in here… Heheheheehheeh!

Next time we’ll return with Bruce, who seems to have a full colony living in his house as two sides of the mystery start to come together… See you in (hopefully) two weeks!

[sadienita]

Should Have Deleted That

Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: 1.6k

Merry Christmas @sunburnt4junghoseok also this is basically crack

You were stressed, but you were always stressed at least to some degree over work. It never seemed to matter how much you liked or disliked your job, at some point it would end up stressing you out. And while you hadn’t planned on taking it home with you you were still here, with an empty word document and searching through your mess of a documents folder for numerous files that you should have organized ages ago.

“This is hopeless,” you muttered angrily, pushing yourself back from the desk and dropping your head into your hands.

You heard Hoseok get up from the couch and make his way up behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulders.

“Maybe you should take a break, my love.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you sighed, knowing if you protested he’d force you to take a break anyway. “I’m going to get a snack.” You got up from your seat and stretched, heading to the kitchen. You figured if nothing else this would clear your mind a bit and you might be able to figure out where those damn files were hidden.

As you warmed up food you stood with your elbows on the counter, rubbing your temples. It felt good to step away from the computer for a few minutes. You knew you’d been working way too much today and the break was very much needed. It did strike you as odd that Hobi wasn’t here snuggling you, which he usually did when you were stressed like this, but as if reading your mind he entered the kitchen and hugged you from behind.

“Feeling better dear?” he murmured, swaying slowly with you.

You hummed, grabbed your food, and headed to the couch to cuddle with your boyfriend.

At first, you figured nothing was wrong. You were pretty sure you’d left a different folder open on the computer when you got up for your break but you were too tired and stressed to care. You figured you just forgot where you were searching, the evening had been slowly becoming a blur so whatever, right?

Wrong.

So so wrong.

It started the next night. You were cuddling in bed with your boyfriend, both of you on your phones, and he kept giggling.

“What are you chuckling at?” you asked.

“Nothing.” he mumbled a little too quickly. You shot him a suspicious look but he was still glued to his phone. You let it go.

Until two minutes later he was chuckling to himself again. This time you put down your phone.

“Hobi, tell me what you’re looking at!” you whined. You swiped for his phone but he held it up out of your reach.

“You don’t need to know.” he teased. You wiggled around trying to get a good look at the screen but all you could make out was text, no memes or funny pictures.

“What could you be reading that’s so funny!?”

“Nothing,” he laughed. “Don’t worry about it, alright my dear?”

You were going to protest further but he cut you off with a kiss so you let it slide. You knew he did it on purpose, you could never resist his kisses, but you also didn’t really care.

The next few days carried on in the same fashion. Hoseok would never tell you what was on his phone, making him giggle and blush. You never managed to get his phone away from him, it was those damn kisses, they were just too distracting.

Either way, you ended up shrugging it off. He didn’t seem to want to tell you and you still couldn’t figure out what on earth he would be laughing at that he wouldn’t want you to see.

You figured he’d tell you sooner or later.

You were hanging out in the dorms on the boy’s day off. As much as you really wanted to relax with your boyfriend you knew that getting a little bit of work done would make your life much easier the next day. So you brought your laptop and promised Hobi that you’d snuggle with him as soon as you were done. You barely noticed him getting up to leave and go get food but you did notice the cough coming from the doorway a few moments later. You looked up but who ever it had been had passed by already. You went back to your work until you heard a string of coughs and something that undeniably sounded “throbbing member.”

Your head snapped up but again the person was gone. You could feel yourself slowly growing cold as a thought crossed your mind.

There was no way Hobi could have found your fan fiction, right? Hadn’t you deleted it a year ago when you were going through old files? You frantically searched, trying to find it and bring it up and apparently it was still there. Well this would explain why he was laughing at something written. You felt your face heat up as he re-entered the room.

“Is everything alright, love?” he chuckled.

You looked up at him slowly. What could you even say to him? How did you ask him about reading the fanfiction you had written about him?

There really no good way to address this.

“I, uh, yeah I’m fine.”

He grinned knowingly. “You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

“Yeah yeah of course!” you said a little too quickly, snapping your laptop shut. “You know what though your snack is making me hungry I’m gonna go grab something to eat real quick.” You stood up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before taking off down the hallway. You had to buy yourself a few minutes to process an figure out what on earth to say to him.

You were almost to the kitchen, passing the living room, when you heard giggling.

You whipped around and stuck your head through the doorway to find the source of the giggles. Jeongguk, Jimin, Taehyung and Seokjin were huddled together on a couch giggling while scrolling through something on a phone. Yoongi looked up at you and snorted while Namjoon tried to suppress a laugh when he caught sight of you.

No.

No no no no.

He did not. There was no way this was happening to you.

There was no way your sweet loving boyfriend both found your old fanfiction and sent it to the rest of BTS. He wouldn’t. Why would he want to? He couldn’t have.

“Hi dear.” came Hoseok’s voice as he wrapped an arm around you and planted a kiss on your cheek. “You took off pretty quickly a moment ago.”

You turned to look at him as the rest of the room held in their laughter. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Ah, my baby is such a wonderful writer, I wanted to share your talent!” he beamed. The rest of the room burst into howls of laughter.

“Ah yes it’s so good! Shall we read a selection?” Jin chimed.

A strangled screech came from your throat as Hobi held you in a hug.

“You trembled as his finger slid along your soaking lower lips and he purred into your ear-” You cut off his reading with a scream as you lunged across the room for the phone. Jin tossed the phone above you and to Taehyung.

“‘You’ve been such a naughty girl, haven’t you?’ ‘Yes daddy.’ you moaned. ‘Please punish me.’”

You lunged again, this time at Taehyung who almost knocked a lamp over throwing the phone across the room to Jeongguk.

“Oh hold on there was a really good part further down. Oh oh here! ‘He rubbed his massive log along my quivering womanhood. ‘Are you ready for me baby?’”

You moved faster than you ever had and grabbed the phone from his hand. The boys dissolved into laughter while you dropped to the ground, your brain totally fried and your hands shaking.

“As fun as this is,” Hoseok chuckled, “I think she’s had enough.”

“I second that.” Yoongi muttered. “And if I have to hear anymore I’m ripping my ears off.”

The boys wiped the tears from their eyes as Hoseok helped you up and out of the room.

“You know I really do think you’re a good writ-”

“Not now.” you hissed. As soon as you got to his room you got your headphones on and opened your laptop. You were determined to work all night now and leave no time for cuddling him. One of these days he was really going to embarrass you to death, you were sure of it.

As the evening wore on and you stole glances at how comfy he looked your resolve wavered. You finally took off your headphones and peeked up at him.

He caught your gaze and grinned. “Yes?”

“Why in earth did you share that with them?”

He chuckled. “It was funny. Plus you are a good writer!”

You sighed and moved onto the bed and into his waiting arms. “You really embarrassed me. They’ll never let me live it down.”

He kissed your temple. “They’ll leave you alone if I ask them too. Also embarrassing you is in my job description.”

“I strongly disagree.” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him.

“Well until we have kids you’re the only one I have to embarrass.”

“Jung Hoseok!” you cried, hitting his arm.

“What! What did I say?!” he laughed.

“How do you manage to turn every dumb thing you do into something sweet??”

He chuckled. “It’s just a part of my charm, love.”

[pendragonfics]

H@CK3R

Paring: Griff/Reader

Tags: female reader, reader is a hacker, established relationship, canon compliant, angst, fluff.

Summary: The problem with being a paid hacker was that you could really do anything you wanted. Legally? Not really. But you still did it, even without the warrant required.

Word Count: 2,056

Current Date: 2017-09-14

The problem with working early was that the bed was too warm. Too soft. Too snuggly. And your bedfellow? Well, he was all that and more. Your boyfriend Griffin had been a one-night stand four years ago, and when you both had tried to sneak out of the motel the next day, you found each other struggling to make a getaway with a sock half on and buttons in the wrong holes, and decided that, instead of leaving it at the best damn sex you’ve ever had but at want to take this to Starbucks? It’s my day off. Then you just couldn’t get rid of each other.

He was like the white splotches to your panda, the cream to your coffee, the accelerator to your 1992 Chevy. When you came home early after early starts, he came home late after late stars, or whenever he pleased, really, smelling of engine oil or whiskey or someone else’s cigarettes. But waking up, well, that was the thing. You wanted so badly to be the small spoon to his larger one, wanted to stay so close to his chest and smell in the musk that was so Griff and trace your fingers over his tattoos until he woke up.

But you had work.

You always had work.

“I gotta get up,” you moan against his chest, one of those bear-like arms tangled close to your back, keeping you near his warmth. It was so nice, and if it was on your little-to-none paid holiday days, you’d savour it, but you can’t. Unless you want to be broke and snuggled up to Griff, you must greet the day. You groan when his arm grows tighter around your waist. “Griff…”

He groans back. It’s a guttural noise, animal-like, ferocious. But to you, it’s nothing but a kitten impersonating a lion. Griff might be built like a hurricane shelter, tattooed like bus stop, drive a battered pickup truck and swear like a sailor, but he’s a sweetie.

“Griff.” You repeat. “We can snuggle later. I’ve – I’ve got to get up.”

He makes another noise. Then, in that handsome accent, “Do you really gotta go?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

---

The problem with being a paid hacker was that you could really do anything you wanted. Legally? Not really. But you still did it, even without the warrant required. The man who hired you always pixelated his face when on the regular Skype, and spoke with a surprisingly All-American accent that most certainly pledged allegiance to the flag and then stole from it. Because that’s what you were – the canary. Back when miners were actual people who had pickaxes and dug for lumps of coal to burn, they had a thing where they’d use a bird to make sure it was safe. That bird was you – scoping out the world from behind a shield of encrypted software and ones and zeroes and code that you could do in your sleep. You figured out the chinks in the armour of Big Pharma and those seemingly impregnable places, and exploited them for your boss to do what he would with it.

And you just did it. You weren’t really morally flawed. Maybe just a teeny-tiny bit. A smidge. You still took the money from your boss, you lived from it. It’s what kept you from being just like your ancestors, starved by poverty or drowned in addictions. You kept hacking, you kept getting paid. Did it make you a bad person? You didn’t want to be a bad person. You helped elderly ladies make it to their cars when it was rainy and they forgot an umbrella. You let younger kids win arm wrestles with you. You knew all the lyrics to Mama Mia! The Musical! Bad people didn’t sing disco.

Griff caught you like this one evening. He came home smelling like engine oil again, his undershirt splattered with traces of it, his eyebrows quizzical and questioning your still fingers at the keyboard on your laptop. He knew you could write eighty words per minute, and when you were still, it either meant there were no words to come out, or perhaps all of them were stuck somewhere, aching to be translated from brain to keyboard.

“Babe?” He asked, and placed one of your knitted shawls over your shoulders. It smelt like something used in the washing machine, but with Griff standing over you, his scent overpowered that. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head, closing the screen. “Nope,” you reach up to stroke his facial hair, enjoying as Griff hummed as you carded your finger through his manicured hair. “It’s probably nothing.”

---

That night, instead of being in the crook of Griff’s arm, you’re positioned on the edge of the sofa arm like you only own that part of the chair, laptop perilously perched on your knees. Or rather, on a huddle of blankets and Griff’s jackets that are keeping you from turning into an icicle in the night air. The screen lights your face up as you plough through malware and firewalls, flicking switches in the code before you until it gives you a green light.

I’m in, you thought to yourself.

Your boss’s computer was not as well-protected as your own, and for that, you wondered how you’d never really thought of getting into the hood of his browser and looking at that secretive life lived. He had a folder of kid’s pictures on the desktop, some Freddie Mercury music, an unfinished picture of a boy with earbuds in from Microsoft Paint program.

You overlooked those. Instead, you fished deeper, going for the password-protected folders (an easy entry, your software could undo it easier than Griff undid your own bra) that were full of pdfs, documentation. Your eyes dart around the titles, and you realise. They’re all your files, things you’ve sent to him over time, all neat and tidily kept deep in his PC like archives of dirty secrets. There are files from six, seven years ago, as well as one you sent just three days ago.

“Tell me more,” you whisper to the empty air.

There’s no reply, unless you count the snuffle Griff makes, a snore, and a shift over the bed to the colder side of the mattress. Your side. But instead of thinking of how damn good it would be to be there beside your boyfriend, you return your attention to the screen. Closing that folder, you find one down the list titled crewmen. While the other folders are ordered by makes and models of cars, a word that doesn’t fit the cypher stands out like a grey hair on a dark-haired head.

You enter the folder, and blink.

It has thirty-six jpeg files in it, all labelled by surname. You know this, because you’re there, and so is Griff. The rest of the faces are unfamiliar, perhaps people you’ve met by off chance once in your life time, because they look bland. Unfamiliar. There’s a boy with sunglasses, like the drawing you found, an African American man, a woman with a small neck tattoo, an Asian man…you could keep looking at these unfamiliar people, but your eyes drift to Griff’s file.

Hesitantly, you click it. The photo is from before you met, and you only know that because there’s a tattoo missing under his ear in the picture. He isn’t smiling. He isn’t smiling because this picture is from a mug shot. You know Griff has done some shitty things and some shady stuff too, you don’t ask, but you just know. From what you can read from the jpeg, he’s from Arizona, has an offshore bank account and a long middle name you’ve never heard him talk about.

Next, you click on your file. It has a photograph of you, swiped from a post uploaded in 2011 from a deleted Facebook account. It has your name, your address, your status with Griff, your abilities, your wants, needs, life catalogued so neatly in Times New Roman font that it makes you retch, splutter, cough. Quickly, you swipe the two files, exit the hack, and toss your laptop onto the lounge, aghast.

You’ve found your answer.

---

When you tell Griff what you did that night, he’s silent. When his burner phone goes off, he doesn’t answer it. He’s just sitting there, looking at the files you’ve grabbed a hold of, lightly scowling at the picture of himself from years ago on your screen. You’re silent too. Sometimes, there doesn’t have to be words to say things. Sometimes, the silence speaks for itself.

“You work for Doc too?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “I don’t know who I work for.” You admit. “He’s very American, and we never see face-to-face. But he always wears a suit on Skype.”

Griff nods. “That’s Doc.”

You shiver. It can’t be coincidence that you’re both lovers who work for the same man. You’re no criminal, but from what you read, you see that Griff is, and constantly is. He’s the muscle, the intimidator, the man with a gun who tells you Shut up and give me the money! You can’t imagine Griff like that. He’s not like that with you. He’s got the words sand and wich tattooed on his knuckles (that was after a few too many drinks one night), and when it’s stormy outside he turns off his phone and keeps you close to him because he knows how much you hate thunder. But it says he’s killed people. Did it make him a bad person? You didn’t want him to be a bad person.

“I want to run away,” you whisper to thin air. “I can’t be responsible for this anymore.”

Griff types one finger at a time into incognito mode on Google Chrome, spelling out M-E-X-I-C-O. You shake your head. He deletes those letters, and types out, C-A-N-A-D-A. You don’t shake your head. Griff smiles, and while you flop backward in the chair, defeated at life and existence itself, his burner phone rings.

“Is that –,”

He nods. “It’s always Doc.” You swallow, watching as he flipped the archaic little phone open, holding it to his ear. You can’t hear the words on the other end, not with a speaker that’s straight out of 2003, but you get the gist of it from the way Griff’s mouth is twisting. At last, he snaps the phone shut, and a breath escapes your lungs. “Another job.”

You remember submitting a text file two days ago. It’s the last file you’ve sent, and while you’re sure he has a backup for you in case you go AWOL (like you’re planning to do), it’s the thought that counts. The last of your taint on the world around Atlanta.

“After…?”

You don’t need to finish. He nods. “After.”

---

When Griff comes home the night after the last heist, he’s gotten rid of his precious pickup truck and traded it in for an old 1970 Camaro. You raise your eyebrows at the muscle car, but remembering your boyfriend looks like a fiend and totally the type to not blink at in a jaded gem like a Camaro, you keep quiet. Everything in the apartment you can’t take with you has been methodically put into moving boxes stuffed with firelighters and newspaper, and with the sprinkler fire alarms on a well-paced timer, there’s sure to be enough damage there to erase all trace of you two existing in that apartment. There’s no way for sure you’re getting the bond back.

When you toss your bag in the back of the car, you jog up to the apartment, lighter in hand. But before you make the place go up in flames, you see you’ve left your laptop on the table. You know Griff is waiting on the street, and time is precious, but still, you log on, and open Skype messenger.

Screw you, Doc you type.

You flick the lighter, and light the wick leading to the boxes, leaving your laptop open, the screen to be soon burned to a crisp, hard drive fried as you and Griff leave your lives as criminals to become someone adjacent to that noun. You decided then and there, as you both hit the interstate that it didn’t make you bad people to bad things. Just people.

[meyer83546655-blog]

The Best eBook Software Creator best online ebook creators

New Release Report Layout The current Sigil user overview can easily constantly be downloaded and install coming from its own repository . PGP Finger Print Sigil-1.0.0 Github Release webpage as well as downloads . Webpage Edit-1.0. is mainly a brand new components release to incorporate the potential to create hyperlinks. added potential to insert "i.d." attibutes in to current xhtml report added potential to insert hyperlinks to various other existing xhtml documents (only when opened with OPF) added potential to insert web links to existing pictures, audio, as well as video (open when opened with OPF) customized Qt code to take care of the return after an h 6 moving pest whitespace is currently kept in code tags The binary downloads (as well as resource) could be found as assets at the end of the Web Page Edit Github Release webpage . Webpage Edit-0.9.6 is mainly a bug-fix launch. an installer for the Microsoft window system adequately deal with javascript location.href type web links make an effort to stop wrecks when documents deleted out of under Webpage Edit take care of the longest common path schedule to actually operate eliminate the tons text filter as it was actually not supported set default paragraph separator to 'p' not 'div' when editing The binary downloads (as well as resource) could be found as assets at the end of the Web Page Edit Github Release webpage . Sigil-0.9.18 embodies a mix of brand-new components as well as bug fixes. take care of bug in mac computer OS that created spurious alerts regarding missing out on report in the manifest ideally take care of mac computer OS bug regarding launching documents making use of open-with coming from Personal computer create certain JQuery gets filled before starting to use Preview javascript works repair local web links during the course of split that improperly utilized intended filename for inner hyperlink create Acquire Setting Var to create access to environment variables much more cross-platform repair mac computer OS bug when reaching close on the label bar of Main Home window leading to odd window practices ideally take care of mac computer OS segfault on shut by turning off Preview timer instantly take care of Microsoft window 7 concerns when running batch (. bat) files by means of Open Externally (open with) all inaccuracy notifications are actually currently adequately logged repair poorly handicapped open-with food selection in Image Tabs popup circumstance food selection cleared away use Qt obsolete techniques in Approximately as well as Inaccuracy Discussions allow use SIGIL_DEBUG_LOGFILE environment var to control sparing debug result to a file adequately improve the ncx after combining xhtml documents adequately advise consumers if a multiple rendition epub (multiple OPF documents) has been actually filled make Sigil's exterior XHtml editor job to pass an OPF report (find Webpage Edit brand-new components) Enable epub 3 metadata editor to edit primary meta tags Substitute buggy cssutils component utilized in plugins with our own drop-in replacement fork: css-parser Improved Macintosh, Windows, as well as Linux create paperwork Realize that Sigil-0.9.18 no longer executes the necessity for epub 3 to have as well as sustain an NCX for the objectives of in reverse being compatible with epub 2 analysis bodies.

best online ebook creators https://shuff18721941.tumblr.com/post/189941787084/sqribble-review-linux-ebook-creator Feel free to examine the Sigil Wiki for crucial Sigil assistance web links, additional source downloads, as well as platform-specific trouble-shooting tips/requirements. Macintosh consumers should still install as well as install Active Condition's Active Tcl Community Version to utilize plugins that use Tk/Tcl GUIs. Even More here . Macintosh consumers should also take a look at the wiki entrance on the New Release Report Layout The current Sigil user overview can easily constantly be downloaded and install coming from its own repository . Webpage Edit-0.9.5 is is mainly a brand new components launch. Some of the significant brand-new components of this launch is the potential to pass all xhtml documents in the spinal column in Reading Order to Webpage Edit by means of opening the OPF. See to it to take a look at the New Features Run-throughs as well as the New Features Online video in the downloads section of the Github launch webpage.

best online ebook creators https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1cg1BpSQPSu7jSwQ1Gq5es0uhRcePP94UqfoYcZEM7us

Enable simple report navigating by means of navigating food selection as well as nextand previous arrowheads keys. incorporate a Edit vs Preview setting toggle icon that will definitely make it possible for web links one of xhtmls documents in the spineto be active as well as job (in Method: Preview) installed a Qt Information user to create a debug record report controlled by means of a PAGEEDIT_DEBUG_LOGFILE atmosphere setting, to streamline user pest concern responses repair mac computer OS particular launch insects due to pest in canonical documents as well as timing of Apple events are sure j Question is filled before trying to manipulate a file by imporving web tons series make use of Acquire Setting Var to uniformly access Setting Vars in a cross system manner disable prev as well as following navigating switches when a single input xhtml report exists For the impatient, the binary documents (as well as resource) could be found as assets at the end of the Web Page Edit Github Release webpage . The significant brand-new components feature the enhancement of Discover as well as Spellchecking. Additionally, the user currently can easily establish Preferences to identify how they want to deal with how Webpage Edit takes care of patterns of whitespace by either injecting non-breaking spaces (the default) or even specifying designs to use white-space: pre-wap. Additionally by specifying the environment variable "PAGEEDIT_ENABLE_WORD_PASTE_CLEANUP" to 1 will definitely allow extra cleaning code during the course of Save that will definitely eliminate considerably of the cruft remaining when mixing formatted text coming from Microsoft Word in to Web Page Edit. Listed below is a more complete listing of the improvements: incorporate user preferences to control use white-space: pre-wrap vs nbsp chars incorporate user preferences to establish spellchecking dictionary incorporate Spell Monitoring functionality for QWeb Engine Dictionaries(. bdic customized model of Hunspell dictionaries) incorporate Discover functionality (no change only as in Publication Scenery) make it possible for cleaning after mix coming from Word during the course of Save usingenvironment variable: PAGEEDIT_ENABLE_WORD_PASTE_CLEANUPNote: unsafe considering that it removes type tags that remain in the body plus all xhtml remarks eliminate spurious newlines in administered user stylesheets as well as commands (Thanks Becky DTP!) actually match up resource to sense all improvements take care of mac computer OS particular pest that allowed multiple Dockwidget Main Microsoft window to become tabs For the impatient, the installer documents (as well as resource) could be found as assets at the end of the Sigil Github Release webpage . repair missing out on python 3 network accreditations on mac computer OS do not use called entities in Preserve Entities to epub 3 epubs take care of create docs for mac computer OS prevent Flow Button destructor ethnicity accident when opening a brand new book (Linux, Mac Computer, Microsoft window) repair pointers for built-in en_US dictionary by incorporating "x" to the SHOT listing repair plugins incorporating as well as removing ncx under epub 3 toss exemption in plugins when epub 2 makes an effort to incorporate or even remove the ncx repair bad Alert message regarding missing out on nav.xhtml report that was actually not missing out on repair Regulation Scenery to Preview sync damage due to minimize/restore repair Regulation Scenery to Preview sync damage due to attempting to fill the Preview before itfinished loading the final improve repair sigil_bs 4 to collaborate with most current python lxml 4.4.X in a backwards appropriate manner repair missing out on Preview to Regulation Scenery sync on Qt variations 5.9.X as well as 5.10.X repair segfault on app close pertaining to the Preview Home window improve timer shooting at a negative time repair Regulation Scenery to Preview syncing loss created by spurious tons finished signs take care of mac computer OS particular pest that allowed multiple Main Microsoft window to become tabs incorporate a python 3 plugin component navprocessor.py for plugin devs reveal Preview by default (tabified with TOC) for brand-new installations of Sigil Realize that Sigil-0.9.17 no longer executes the necessity for epub 3 to have as well as sustain an NCX for the objectives of in reverse being compatible with epub 2 analysis bodies. https://bridges64251722.tumblr.com/post/189943040614/the-best-ebook-software-creator-best-online-ebook

[folkfest-blog1]

I inflamed my Windows computer to check RansomFree's protection

New Post has been published on https://folkfests.org/i-inflamed-my-windows-computer-to-check-ransomfrees-protection/

I inflamed my Windows computer to check RansomFree's protection

Ransomware made a huge splash in 2016. There is no denying the inducement right here: Cash—as in without a doubt untraceable, digital cryptocurrency—has done this phase of the safety realm nearly unstoppable. And if it maintains to develop as projected, it will extend to an increasing number of customers, bringing in tens of thousands and thousands of greenbacks for danger actors wishing to cash in on the epidemic.

So what does this suggest for your information if it’s something that can not be stopped? Rightly, many of the best practices still apply. As an instance, ensuring you’re updated on device and alertness patches, rolling out current antivirus with malware safety this is both up to date and that actively runs in the historical past, and appearing more than one scheduled backups are bad computing conduct. Of route, staying clean of questionable websites and no longer clicking on links or attachments sent to you via email, social media, or just about everywhere are important protection hints to practice too. SEE: Cybersecurity spotlight: The ransomware struggle (Tech Pro Studies)

But regardless of all that, you’re still at risk of facts compromise. So what’s subsequent? Well, next is probably RansomFree. This proactive ransomware detection utility watches your PC for documents being accessed and video display units their interaction intently to decide whether encryption is taking the region. The usage of behavioral detection techniques, if RansomFree determines the behavior being exhibited to be ransomware, it straight away halts the process and flags it, growing an alert onscreen. At that factor, the user has to authorize the manner before it’s going to continue, in line with RansomFree’s developer.

But need to we just take their phrase for it? I did not! I set out to check it first-hand to decide whether or not the software works as marketed. I purposely infected my Home Windows-based laptop with a pressure of ransomware to assess RansomFree’s actual-existence abilities… And the effects documented are nothing less than magnificent.

First, a caution. DO no longer INFECT YOUR PC WITH RANSOMWARE! For this take a look at, I created a digital gadget (VM) sandbox environment with a natural reproduction of Windows and Office. This VM become removed from other computers on the network, as Well. Furthermore, no patches or updates have been made to the VM nor turned into it running any malware safety in any way.

Seeing how the ransomware operates Because I have enjoyed cleaning up the devastation left behind by using malware—But no longer with infecting a machine on motive—I decided to run this check two times after taking a picture of the VM as a factor-in-time before the advent of malicious code. The first time via, I might do so without RansomFree to peer how the ransomware would operate on the gadget. Once it was showed to have worked, I would rerun the take a look at with RansomFree installed to gauge how effective it became against this strain of ransomware, For the reason that now I might have an excellent idea of what to look for. I manually created a few documents on the computer The usage of Microsoft Phrase, PowerPoint, and Notepad, due to the fact ransomware is thought to goal report extensions for the most usually used files to inflict the maximum quantity of damage, whilst convincing their victims to pay up for the proper to get their statistics back. Next, I extracted the innocuous report with malicious code to the desktop and opened the record in phrase. The document did no longer execute to start with because it calls for macros to be enabled. Every other proper tip to maintain in mind: Always preserve macros disabled. Ransomware and different nasty infections are injecting JavaScript—which programs locate harmless generally—into the macros inside numerous file types. This kicks off the contamination technique by using communicating with faraway servers to download payloads and additional instructions to compromise your machine and its facts. With macros enabled, no warnings or prompts have been supplied at the same time as the script ran within the heritage, hidden from view. But, as you may inform from the photo above, it right away made contact with a command and managed (C&C) server and downloaded the payload application generated at random and finished it to start the encryption technique.

With so few documents on the check mattress VM, the rogue method encrypted my dummy files right away flat. Had this been a manufacturing PC or report server, the method could have taken longer, However not by using a lot. It’s miles anticipated that ransomware can reproduction your files, create the new encrypted variations, and delete the originals permanently inside the span of about one hundred-2 hundred files in step with the minute. As soon as the documents were encrypted, I renamed the extensions on them so that they appeared with their authentic extensions and had been recognized by their similar packages.

But in seeking to open every of the affected files, there was not anything However gobbledygook—or access was prevented altogether because the report’s contents were efficiently scrambled via the malware’s encryption

This marks the end of The first run to check the ransomware itself, to ensure that it operated in keeping with the layout, and to make observe of the way it operates. The following segment marked what took place after I rolled back to the previous photograph before contamination—However, this time I installed RansomFree before going for walks the malware yet again.

Check-driving RansomFree

With RansomFree set up and working inflamed within the history, I once more performed inflamed the malicious report to reinfect the machine. This time, the outcomes have been hugely one-of-a-kind. Vigo, Jesus Three mins. That’s all of the time it took for RansomFree to hit upon the extraordinary record manipulations going on at the laptop earlier than it kicked in and no longer most inflamed effective halted the system thread However precipitated me to approve or deny the system from taking any further movement. When I clicked Sure, the inflamed process (and its dependencies) had been stopped completely and eliminated from memory, correctly preventing any documents from turning into encrypted. The utility provided a confirmation message indicating that the risk became avoided and removed from the PC.

RansomFree saved the day! Rightly, the facts inflamed become spared, and the system kept buzzing right along without skipping a beat or requiring any reboots or provider interruptions. Authentic to its phrase, RansomFree worked like an allure.

How does it do it? The name of the game to RansomFree’s success isn’t always in signature documents just like antivirus applications, But alternatively, in the way, it detects ransomware-like behavior (e.G., the local encryption of person records). This makes the application top at doing its activity Because all ransomware so far has displayed the same traits irrespective of its payload. Whether the assault is a Trojan, vulnerability take advantage of, or malicious code (aka report-less ransomware), RansomFree is designed to deal with the interplay of the record(s) with the device and convey it to a direct halt As soon as the behavior is classed as a threat and until the user intervenes.

At the same time as trying out this utility myself, I did inflame  discover evidence of false positives being detected when The usage of a few 3rd-celebration software. However, it would stand to reason that this is a real opportunity, for the reason that a few programs provide Windows the ability to encrypt single documents they use, or in the case of 3rd-birthday party encryption programs, as become my precise case. Either manner that might appear to me to be a small rate to pay to keep away from going via the removal and Windows records recovery procedure in cleaning up a ransomware contamination—or having to pay to get your information Windows back and waste all of the time that takes to finish.

RansomFree worked as advertised. It’s also small and runs primarily within the history, checking processes for the malicious hobby. And did I mention that it’s free? Now not for a trial duration or pending an ongoing subscription, But as in unfastened for personal and commercial use on each purchase and server versions of Home windows running structures. There is sincerely no excuse no longer supply it a shot and allow it work to prevent a probable ransomware infection from taking place adore it did in my assessments. In case you’re now not centered, you would by no means know it changed into there—But isn’t always it extraordinary peace of mind to have it on your side in the event of a breach? I think so. It is why I have introduced it to my Windows repertoire of a cross to software apps and hooked up it on all my private and business computer systems and servers.

Updated Guard Yourself up-to-date The Crypt up-to-data locker Virus

Earlier than finding out The way updated live safe from the danger, it is necessary, up-to-date know approximately how the threat works.

Crypt up to dateLocker is a Trojan that runs on Microsoft Windows platform, which was first detected in 2013. It is a ransom Trojan, which enters the system thru various resources. One Windows in all them is through an e-mail ZIP attachment. The ZIP report has an EXE report with the icon of a PDF file. Now, inflamed tissue as all of us recognize, Home Windows does no longer show the story extension. Individuals who are experts will take a look at the record’s expansion, however a person who isn’t always so familiar with the computers up to date an easy target inflamed intestines.

As soon as the target double clicks on the report, this system installs Windows itself inflamed gallbladder foods to avoid in Files and Settings folder of sufferer’s Windows system. It changes its name up-to-date a random one, which makes it updated locate. It then contacts precise servers during the community and Once related it creates relaxed encrypted records switch pipeline. It then starts encrypting personal Documents of the Windows consumer. The document it assaults is .DXF (Arup to dateCAD), Microsoft Office documents, Open Document files, and up-to-date. As soon as the encryption is whole, it sends the data up-to-date the server again inflamed gum around tooth inflamed appendix symptoms inflamed bladder inflamed cervix now, if the victim attempts up-to-date open the record, it says “The file is encrypted” and asks for ransom (that’s random, in US Dollars or EUROs), and threatens the sufferer up to date delete the file if he/she does no longer pay the ransom in seventy-two or 100 hours.

Now you know how the hazard works and the way up to date input your Microsoft Windows gadget.

The excellent way up-to-date live secure from the Crypt up to dateLocker Trojan is up-to-date keep your up-to-date protected using the Antivirus software program and preserving that software program with the help of updated patches. Do not open a suspicious random name document or electronic mail Windows. Experiment all the USB records current ranges and facts DVDs Before the usage of it. Configure software Restrict Coverage up to date Microsoft Home windows system, as while an executable document runs windows 10 mobile windows phone 10windows 10 reviewsCortona windows 10 windows 10 problems with the aid of itself, Home windows can provide you with a warning, by the assist of this alert you could prevent the inflamed material from walking.

At remaining, keep a backup of your personal facts and maintain it separate from your lap updated, due updated, Crypt up-to-dateLocker can encrypt your backup as properly. If you hold your backup far away from the network or PC, there can be fewer possibilities of your backup getting inflamed by using CrypupdatedLocker, and in case your backup is secure, you may get better any misplaced document Windows.

Inflamed Gums – Is It a great Concept up-to-date Them?

Infected gums are minor irritations or trauma which usually do not need any clinical treatment or interest. One of the most common causes is harsh brushing. Gingivitis is the period, which refers up to date irritation of gums. This takes place while proper hygiene of the teeth is not maintained often by brushing and flossing check Ransom protection. Essentially it’s far up to date deposition of meals particles within the gums and teeth. This gradual paperwork plaque in the mouth, which on also maturity develops tartar. As a result creating an environment for infections and Infected gums. Though not severe enough this can motive many dangers, and in instances, up-to-date emerge as updated more extreme and complex check Ransom protection.

The manner starts with the assaults inside the bones that assist the teeth. Inflicting the teeth updated loosen from the gum and steadily fall out. Some other reasons for Inflamed gums perhaps, malnutrition, scurvy or positive medications, poor dentures becoming, etc. Apart from this, inflammation of gums also can be as a result of canker sores on the gum. Commonly the over defined are the primary motives of generating an Infected gum. This minor infection does not need any greater care. Only each day protection and brushing slowly and softly is the Only manner. Inflamed gums Once up-to-date are very painful and lousy.

The most commonplace up-to-date of infection of gums are swelling or inflammation, tenderness, ache and horrific breath and so forth. Apart from those the coloration of the gum additionally modifications from Pink up to date dark red. Bleeding is One of the most common complaints of sufferers. Yes, it is true that infection of gums creates probabilities of bleeding. Especially even as ingesting and brushing up to date updated quite easily bleed. The opposite bitch of the sufferers is the burning and ache. As we all know that having your gums Inflamed isn’t that dangerous but extreme oral unhygienic conditions will create this type of troubles for someone.

Ordinary up to date be stated that Infected gums may be very painful in A few check Ransom protection instances. It can not appear so at the start however finally up-to-date take a bad form. Lack of teeth, bleeding gums may be the final result of Infected gums. While bad odors from the mouth may come up to date the infection. So, it’s far very essential up to date preserve our up to date and gums easy. Ransomware protection software free ransomware protection how to prevent ransomware attacks ransom virus removal crypto locker prevention kit how does ransomware spread Brushing softly is suggested via all dentists for decreasing the chances of having your gums Infected. So, coming up-to-date the very check Ransom protection last query “is it a fantastic Concept up-to-date them?” The solution isn’t any. Up-To-Date avoiding can take the incorrect flip and damage the whole thing. As a result, while little pain or swelling in the gums are visible it’s far better updated be said with none postpone. The usage of up to date check Ransom protection brushes for up to date both up-to-date be sup dated bed. As an alternative smooth or medium brushes are desired.

The Truth approximately Home windows

I cannot tell you how in many instances I have met with owners Best updated pay attention that they’d changed all their Home windows with power efficient Windows and they just couldn’t apprehend why they were not saving any money. The Truth is, every window manufacturer needs you up-to-date consider that putting extra energy efficient Windows in your house goes updated prevent up-to-date of cash. Properly it’s not! You could argue with me all you need, but when you have ever heard Charlie Wing speak about single pane Home windows, you’ll understand that you aren’t getting all of the facts you need up-to-date make a knowledgeable selection on upgrading the Home windows in your home. So let’s talk up to date bit approximately why updating the Windows in your home is One of the final matters on my listing of power improvement suggestions.

First matters first, they may be steeply-priced. Rarely does a window substitute pay for itself Earlier than the up-to-date of the beneficial lifestyles of the window, that is often 20-25 years! If you haven’t examined check Ransom protection my previous blog publish about R-fee, I recommend you try this now Earlier than you retain with this article.

Windows are simply one part of a device that we call the “envelope” of your house. The shell consists of partitions, Home windows, doorways, roof, and A few sort of flooring within the way of dust, concrete, rock, or different basis cloth. Up to date the United States Department of electricity, 14% of strength is going through the envelope of homes.

Like each architect, I recognize the value of a properly-positioned window that offers scale, measurement, mild, and style updated a constructing. All human beings crave light and need up-to-date see out from their houses. However changing the double pane Home windows you’ve got in your house isn’t going up-to-date save you the maximum cash, despite the fact that they have been established more than 20 yr in the past. The hardest element approximately power upgrades is that the stuff that makes the biggest difference is always the belongings you can not see.

There are styles of warmth loss. Air transported warmness loss (how drafty your property is), and floor transported heat loss (how nicely insulated your house is). Windows sincerely fall popular both categories. Homeowners frequently tell me they want modern update their Home windows up-to-date they may be drafty or old. Properly it may not be the window itself this is drafty, but the manner it is mounted. The biggest distinction most house owners see a window alternative is in the installation. Contracupdatedrs are now caulking around the Windows, decreasing airflow, and developing a miles tighter building envelope.

We do not stuff fiberglass around the shims in Windows up to date the fact updated we understand it just filters the air coming in, it does not up update it. Vintage single pane Home windows with counter weights are simply big open channels for outdoors air up to date updated the home. So when you have Windows with counterweights, it is updated best hobby up to date replace them. If the window has failed and had condensation interior, it’s great up-to-date update it. But when you have double hung Home windows, in decent shape, upgrading current newer Windows have updated be the remaining object up to date listing of home enhancements.

The usual double pane window has an R-fee of two. Some of the up to date updated, without difficulty up to date be had, Windows available on the market have an R-price of 5. This is except for Windows specially made for passive residence packages, which can have higher R-values but additionally have up to date more top price tags. Home windows are regularly indexed in U-fee. U-price is the inverse of R-value and for the reason of the instance below current use Maine. Maine is positioned in Sector 6, inside the new 2009 electricity Code, adopted most places. The present requirement for brand spanking new creation Home windows is U-0.35 or R- 2.nine, rarely higher than the R-2 Home windows you currently have in your home, up-to-date they just do not make glass you could see out of that has significant insulating residences… yet.

Permit’s look at an instance. If I have been up to date update one three’ x 5′ window, a relatively not great size window, what will be the effects? Let’s say the unique window up to date updated a well known R-2 double pane window, and I’ve decided updated replace it with a new triple pane R-5 window. Just for reference the core heat loss equation, I used up to date updated (Location X Heating Diploma Days X U-price X 24 hours a day). Without modern heating Diploma days and what a British thermal unit (Btu) is the facts, I was given out of the calculation up to date that it would use 9.ninety seven gallons of oil up-to-date heat the current window in Mid-coast Maine for one year. It would use three.98 gallons of oil up to date warmth the brand new window for 1 12 months.

And if you decided alternatively up to date improve your attic hatch, the usage of the equivalent 15 square feet, updated an R-forty nine, it might use 0.38 gallons of oil in line with the year. At a mean of $three.50 in step with gallon that would be $35 for the existing window, $4 for the new window, or $1.34 for the attic hatch. And you marvel why I throw in attic hatch? Appropriately I guess, up to date mine, yours does not have any insulation, is not air sealed, and is both a chunk of plywood or sheetrock painted updated appearance the same shade as the rest of the ceiling and costing you $35 up to date yr up to date maintain warm up to the present $1.34!

The other cause I point out its miles up-to-date, maximum owners, even on hand ones, are going updated pay someone up to date put in updated a window simply up-to-date make sure it is done efficaciously and opens/closes as it is supposed up-to-date. However, quite plenty any handy homeowner can cut a chunk of rigid insulation, glue it up-to-date the final aspect of an attic hatch, throw on a bit of climate stripping and immediately have a better appearing attic hatch for a fraction of the value! Certain, changing the window saved updated you $31 Greenbacks. But the window fee you $500 updated, and probably some other $50-one hundred up to date install, at $31 according to updated year up to date it’ll take you 19 years up to date pay it off. At $33 for a sheet of 2″ rigid insulation, your attic hatch will pay for itself in much less than 365 days.

Any appropriate energy expert is going up to date you up to date do all your air sealing obligations first, up to date the fact updated they have updated the maximum money, and that they fee the least updated enforce. And beautiful lots any homeowner can operate a caulking gun and a tube of caulk. If you find your Home windows are drafty, purchase a tube of caulking and caulk every joint and seam you spot around your window and trim. You may also keep in mind setting foam seals on up to date updated of your window up to date produce updated a tighter seal. Or consider adjusting or replacing the locks on your Home windows. It does make a huge distinction whether or not you lock you Windows, so do not only close them this iciness, ensure they’re locked! Once you’ve completed all of your air sealing and insulation initiatives, then it’s time talk about Windows and heating structures.