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sweetlangdon · 6 years ago

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From Eden: Chapter 1

Notes: Evil Power Couple fic. It’s difficult to write a summary for this one, because I don’t want to give away the twists. (It’ll also include canon rewrite/divergence for the later half of the season.) It has plenty of angst and fluff, and a bit of character study.

Warnings: swearing, lots of murder, blood...

The rest of this fic can be found on my masterlist and AO3. It’s currently in progress.

She was in the library, alone, when she heard his footsteps.

She knew it was him. It couldn’t be anyone else but him. He’d been here for little more than a day, but the hypnotic, precise cadence of his boots against the polished floors was unmistakable. Eighteen months of relative solitude, never knowing whether it was day or night—not that it mattered much anymore now that the Earth had become a ruined wasteland—had given her plenty of time to parse the sounds of Outpost 3. The whisper of the Grays, floating along balconies and down the narrow, sleek corridors like apparitions. The insistent tap of Ms. Venable’s cane as if it were a ticking clock, a warning, a threat. Ms. Mead’s practiced rhythm, heavy and quick, past their doors like some nocturnal predator on the hunt for a kill.

The other Purples were shuffling steps and clinking glasses, a crescendo of voices that echoed across the labyrinth of their underground shelter. They were all energy and rage with nowhere to run, so it slipped out into the quiet halls and rooms, an explosion of frayed nerves and short tempers.

Eighteen months had been a lifetime. It didn’t feel like surviving. It felt like a prison sentence, a slow and endless march on cracked glass wondering when it would break and where they would fall. That same restless anger had burned in her veins, too. Those nights where she lay awake listening to the crackle of the fire until it finally lulled her to sleep. Days when she couldn’t summon enough willpower to do anything but lock the door to her suite and cry until her chest ached. She found that it was easier to keep quiet, to bury the pain somewhere else when she wasn’t alone. Obey the rules, however ridiculous they were. Remain invisible and non-threatening.

She’d been used to not drawing attention. She could’ve been a Gray, she thought, if fate were different. But she didn’t really know a damn thing about fate; nothing seemed to make sense anymore, so did it matter? Her parents had immediately pooled their funds, no questions asked. One hundred million dollars, she’d find out after the fact. She didn’t even know they’d had that much. And she didn’t have time to consider what it all meant, didn’t particularly give a fuck about being a part of the elite—she felt more like an imposter. Some outsider with enough luck to be born to parents who built their wealth, however meager it had been compared to the others, from the ground up.

The bare minimum of social interaction had gotten her this far at least. Amiable conversations traded across the table while they choked down their tasteless meal. A hushed exchange of words in a shadowed corridor with a passing Gray. Obligatory grumbling over the songs that broke through the static on relentless, agonizing loops, a ghostly thread to the world before all of this. Just enough to play whatever game they were trapped in and survive one more day, one more week, one more month.

Nothing was permanent here, and the last thing she wanted was to become entangled in their drama and end up on the outside. Left to the ravaged Earth as the radiation poisoned her body and the toxic air squeezed the breath from her lungs. Put down like some dying animal, the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head. Her parents didn’t sacrifice every last cent they’d owned for her to just fuck up her chances because of some dumbass mistake.

It was easier to be alone. The library wasn’t empty that often, but when the occasion arose, she took it. There was a shred of peace here. The faint scent of smoke mingled with the clean aroma of linen and beeswax from the candles. The spines of the books crammed in the shelves flickered back at her as golden light wavered over them. She’d tucked herself into a corner of one of the black leather couches, her knees drawn up under her gown. It was some kind of eighteenth century-inspired monstrosity in a deep shade of violet; she thought it might have been prettier if there weren’t so many ruffles. Lace dripped from the satin sleeves at her elbows. Her wardrobe was full of it—lace and voluminous layers of fabric, pleated and gathered into elegant styles from another time. She gave them credit for committing to the aesthetic. After a year and some months, it was beginning to grow on her.

Her mind had stayed occupied with help from the Outpost’s library. She had discovered early on that the shelves held an extensive collection of essential literary works. She’d almost expected them to be nothing but a decoration, an illusion of comfort. She read them slowly, savoring each page, each word, not knowing how long they would need to last. Before the world went straight to hell she’d been a year shy of graduation. Hunkering down in a room full of books felt familiar, as though she was back in the library on her manicured university campus studying for finals. As if this was normal for just a little while. As if their sequestered world wasn’t the only fucking thing left.

She turned a page, partially aware that she didn’t remember what she’d read in the past few minutes. Her focus was gone, the words turning into incomprehensible smudges of ink across the paper. His footsteps matched her pulse until all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears. And then suddenly he was there in the threshold—she caught him on the edge of her periphery, a silent shadow. She stared at the book in her lap but the words still didn’t make sense and the awareness of him prickled along her spine.

Langdon terrified and fascinated her in equal measure. He was an abyss—dark, cold, offering nothing but vague notions of an imagined paradise. A safe haven they would have to compete for. Who was he, exactly, to determine whether they were worthy? It made her uneasy to know that he was the deciding factor, that he could leave her here to whatever horrors awaited them outside without knowing why. What deemed a person useful to The Cooperative? Was what he’d said about this sanctuary true, or just a load of bullshit?

“Loneliness is a comfort to you, not a burden.” Langdon’s voice filled the room, smooth and rich as dark honey.

It hadn’t been a question, but of course he was well aware of the truth already. She had seen a couple of the other Purples walk away from their encounters with him shell-shocked and trembling, hysterical about how he’d rifled through the parts of them they wanted to keep hidden. Their private thoughts and shameful secrets were little more than pawns in a game to him. He appeared to relish pulling them apart and leaving them shattered. She’d never seen Coco so quiet, her eyes wide and red-rimmed before she excused herself to her room for the rest of the evening.

Truthfully, she didn’t know whether to be horrified or in awe of him.

The book snapped shut. “I’m used to it,” she said, looking up at last. He moved with a preternatural grace, hands clasped behind his back as he rounded the couch opposite in a few long strides. “Aside from the Armageddon raging outside, this is just…more of the same. More minimalist, maybe, but…I’m used to being on my own.”

She figured it would be best to strive for honesty. She just hoped that she could keep the fear out of her voice.

He seemed to draw the shadows to him, and she couldn’t tell whether there’d been the barest hint of a smirk somewhere on his lips. The light from the fireplace made the lines of his cheekbones sharper, the color of his eyes darker. But she knew they weren’t dark at all—they were the brightest, clearest shade of blue she’d ever seen. Like ice from the glaciers that no longer existed.

Langdon’s lithe form melted into the arm of the couch opposite in such a fluid motion that she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He perched on the edge, cat-like, and crossed one leg over the other. Almost instinctively, she pushed the book aside, unfurling swathes of fabric as she inched closer to the edge of the leather cushion.

“Not so impressed with the other residents, then, I take it.”

She lifted one shoulder. “A bunch of entitled assholes don’t really strike me as the best candidates to keep humanity from dying out. If they’re all that’s left…” she shook her head, “I don’t know. I don’t. Aside from whatever…visionaries you’ve got at The Cooperative, and maybe those kids, humanity’s kinda screwed.” She sighed. “It’s unfair, I guess, that we bought our survival. We didn’t really survive at all, we just had the means to escape. And these people…they don’t know how to do much for themselves. How can the world depend on them?”

“Without them, the outposts wouldn’t exist. Their money—your money—”

“My parents’ money,” she corrected.

“None of you would be here if it weren’t for their wealth.” Langdon’s head titled to the side, amused. “You don’t consider yourself one of them?”

“My parents could afford my place here, I can’t deny that,” she said. “But I…” She couldn’t look at his demanding gaze, instead averting her eyes to where his hands rested on top of his knee. Slender, well-manicured fingers drummed absently on his kneecap, the opaque rings and jewels glinting in the light. “I know a thing or two about hardship, Mr. Langdon. I remember what it was like before.”

She didn’t mean the end of the world. No, it had been long before that, and Langdon knew it—she could see it in his face, those micro expressions that were gone the moment they appeared.

He leaned forward slightly. The light changed his face in remarkable ways, she realized; where before there had been something almost imperceptibly sinister about his features, now the candlelight had softened the harsh lines of shadow.

“Of course. There was a time when your family had to worry about money. It disappeared faster than you could earn it,” he answered. She didn’t dare to ask how he knew. Then again, it wasn’t altogether unreasonable to expect that The Cooperative might’ve done ridiculously detailed background checks. “Does that make you envious of them? That they were born into wealth? That they’ve…enjoyed it longer?”

“No.”

His lips curved into a delicate smirk. “You sound so sure of yourself,” Langdon said. “Why?”

“You think I’m lying.”

“Oh, I’d know if you were, and believe me, I’d tell you,” Langdon replied, his tone light and almost teasing. “No…I want to know why. It’s a simple question.”

“It gives me an advantage,” she answered. “These people are used to their cushy lives and it made them complacent. I never knew mine long enough to get to that point. I don’t envy them for one second.”

“Ruthless.” His smirk broadened into a grin, and her stomach did a somersault in response. “I admire that.”

“Don’t know if I’d call it that,” she countered.

“I would.” He narrowed those clear blue eyes, a look so piercing that she shifted in her seat, rearranging her skirts to try and avoid it.

“It’s just surviving. Figuring out who you’re up against.”

“You see them as opponents?”

“Sometimes.” She gathered the book from where it had fallen between the cushions and stood, tucking it against her chest, very aware of his gaze following her every movement. “People don’t last long here with the way Mead and Venable run things. All we can do is try to keep up. I’ve stayed quiet…done everything I can to mitigate the risk of being a problem for them.”

“And you’d do anything to make sure you’re not abandoned. Not again.” The way he said it, drawing out every syllable, made a knot form in the pit of her stomach. How could he have known something so personal? “No matter what it might cost you. Even if the price was your soul.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

Langdon tipped his head to the side again, his strawberry blond hair falling across one shoulder. “On the contrary, I think you know exactly what I mean.” He pushed off the arm of the couch to stand, lacing his fingers together in front of him.

“You have that spark of callousness within you—I can see it. It’s an ugly thing, but it’s there, because it’s a part of you. It’s always been a part of you. And you’d do whatever you need to with it, if it meant your salvation. Even if it left blood on your hands.”

The lilting, pleasant timbre of his voice suddenly turned to ice, that air of superiority and omnipotent power returning to lace his words. A storm gathered in his eyes and beneath his skin, something malicious that she’d suspected lurked in his veins, down to every fiber of his being. She didn’t know what it was about him. Part of her didn’t want to know, really, but a stubborn thread of curiosity still lingered.

She found herself gaping at him, mouth open, a coherent reply lost to the void. “I…I don’t know.”

Langdon closed his eyes, just for a moment. “Yes, you do.”

When he opened them again, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, dropping his arms to his sides. She watched the mesmerizing fluidity of his hands, the rigid way he carried himself. The same sense of amusement came crawling back as if there hadn’t ever been something terribly malicious in him in the first place. As if her trampling over the corpses of Outpost 3’s elite to garner her place at The Sanctuary was a topic of casual conversation.

Langdon continued to speak with his hands. “You can deny that part of you if that’s what you want, but it will find you eventually. Once chaos has taken over, you really can’t be sure what you’d be capable of, can you?”

“…I guess not.”

She turned away from him, the admission uncoiling something dark within her, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Her fingertips dug into the cover of the book until her knuckles blanched. This time, it was her footsteps that ricocheted off the walls, the staccato notes far too loud in her ears.

She felt the weight of his gaze down her back, but when she glanced over her shoulder he was already gone.

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @your-king-cody-fern @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @rainbowrosesjas @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @artistlunadrayne @codysfallenangels @batgirlbride @mileeyyowens @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @langdonsrapture @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @langdonscurls @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @langdonfern @holylangdon @ritualmichael @softlangdvn @thelangdoncooperative @weareallevilmotherfuckers

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #ahs fic #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs apocalypse #fic: from eden

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kierongillen · 7 years ago

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Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 35

Spoilers, obv.

I suspect this may be shorter than usual. Or maybe not? When you've been working (and thinking) on something for a long time, you work past the need to talk about it. I've said it to myself so many times, I don't really need to externalise it. Whatever “it” is, is in the book.

I suspect this is going to grow as we progress across the final year. In a real way, we're at the point of the degree course when we're easing off. It's your project now. Make of it what thou wilt. Easy answers are a long way behind us. But there are answers, at least.

Jamie's Cover: with solicits going out earlier, we're always worried about putting something like this on a cover. Ideally, we'd want it to drop after Imperial Phase II dropped, so at least people would be suspicious of Minerva.

But it's a lovely image – I love what Matt's doing with the light, what Jamie's doing with the expression. Great stuff.

Yoshi Yoshitani: More great stuff. The playfulness of Persephone, the pose. It's just total joy.

Page 1-4

This looks familiar. Once more we return, again, right?

We were obviously planning this from the start, but by the time we've reached this point, Jamie's style has evolved to the point where the extra panels we need to add to the sequence would break the coherence entirely. So Jamie insisted on re-inking the whole sequence, and updating the Minerva panels (as she's seen in more panels later). I did say that if we were clever, we'd have drawn the whole thing back when we did issue 1. Jamie noted that he'd never have been happy printing four years old art in a book.

So yes.

I was originally thinking that this sequence would actually be the opening of Year 4, but when I did the tight plotting for this arc, I realised that you had to really start way back around 4000BC, to set certain themes in motion. I had the option to switch them until quite late though – they're similar lengths, and abstractly can be switched, with a few changes.

I didn't. It's the way to go. And it's a good way to make issue 2 hit hard, right?

It's an interesting thing to think about that those who are following this in singles will have read the 1923 special before this, so know exactly why everyone is here, while those following with trades will learn it in the NEXT trade.

Page 5

For those who follow the idea of page budgets, this counted as a half page.

When writing this first time I got the order the wrong way around, so Amaterasu survived rather than Susanoo. Always check this stuff.

It's another tour de force for Matt here, in terms of the intensity of effects going on. I feel terrible for all the people involved. Thinking through the psychology of this was always going to be the hard one. To pull the trigger, who had the hardest job?

Page 6

Yet again, just look at the reds. I've got an issue with a bunch of fire in, and this is really making me look forward to it. Susanoo is a sweet one. Poor fucker.

Minerva saying “Necessity” feels like a necessary beat, right?

Page 7

This counts as a ¾ page for page budget.

Was waiting for the “Minerva emerging from fire” money shot for 34 issues (plus specials) and Jamie doesn't let me down. Had me thinking of “Figure covered in fluids” being one of those recurring beats in Jamie and my work. Persephone in the fourth trade, America in issue 13 of YA, Emily in Phonogram and so on.

It's the billow of the skirt, innit? Nice, Jamie.

8-9-10-11

Oddly, lettering this so you could work out who was speaking and who to was trickier than you'd think.

Set still getting her digs in now is very set. And, yes, I'm sure people will have a theory on who the fourth head is by now. If not, don't worry, we'll get to it soon enough.

Getting a little quality time with Ananke/Minerva was one of the writing challenges here – this is a scene which is pretty much showing methodology. When the pages came in for this, Chrissy said “I've been trying to make sense of what you meant by this for four years, but now I get it.” So I hope it hits the core beats for most people.

I do love this push and pull between Ananke and Minerva though. It's quietly horrible.

Pop-art head death there, and a return of the flying eyeballs. Also, looking at the various expressions of the heads in the backgrounds on page 9 is pretty impressive. Set in the third panel!

10-11 is the ritual. Trying to work out how much space for this and what you actually needed to show was key. Plus the timing of it – there's an argument you could have taken this longer, or pushed it shorter. Two pages felt right.

Good eye-to-camera at the end, which allows us to...

PAGE 12

...Have an interstitial...

PAGE 13-14-15-16-17

...and segue to Minerva's eyes in the present day. Linking sequence between scenes.

Due to the repeated pages in the first half being “free” (They weren't – Jamie chose to kill himself) this means that the issue is considerably longer than usual. Even so, there are a lot of fish to fry. This is obviously the problem of the structure of this arc – yes, there will be past and present content in every issue. Balancing what we do in each is basically the key... but it also means we have to choose our scenes very carefully.

Anyway – Minerva and Woden, facing off. Just letting two characters push and pull against each other – and, for the first time, really being behind the curtain “with” Minerva. Previously Minerva has been presented as a supporting character, based on her interactions with others (1923 is an exception). Here, Minerva is protagonist, and we get to see her work.

Minerva! Love the dyed bangs. Strong look. Also, great thoughtful expression on the end of the last page... and her making her move on the next page.

Woden calling her “Sweetheart” seems to be a minor peak Woden move.

This sequence is making me think that Minerva would be great at playing the party game Resistance. Tricky thing in this sequence is actually signalling lies to readers. Lies are really hard in comics. Like irony (as in, characters saying things they don't believe) there's certain parts of the readership who have huge problems with it. Signalling what you want to do is paramount, and tricky. I'm not sure there's a right answer.

Last two panels of 15 are particularly good for Jamie and Matt – firstly, we get the time based upon the sun coming up, which gives it an odd atmosphere. Guns out in a room? You'd think nighttime. But no, it's something else.

Secondly, with the steady angle, with Minerva having her back to Woden, we get a chance to see her think about what lie to tell. That's an “Okay – Woden knows about the heads. How could he know about the heads?” think...

Then over the page, making the lie, expression hoping she gets away with it... and then relief when she's called it right. Great steady-angle work by Jamie and Matt, and the sort of performance you can get from them. I wouldn't write this for almost anyone else.

(Favourite detail – look at the shoulders. From Woden's perspective, she's not moving at all. She's only giving facial tells.)

This sequence was also particularly picked over with C, in a line by line way, in terms of what information is being imparted. Minerva and Woden are both absolutely drilling each other for all the information they can get, so what IS being implied.

I laugh at Minerva bundling over to the computer the second Woden is gone. Plus great final expression there by Minerva.

18-19

In an issue that's set half in the past, and the half the present day stuff is with Minerva, we're in danger of losing our lead – so I definitely try and write Persephone particularly present where she gets it. This is an advantage of the captions coming back in – we can slow sequences down and make them feel like they last longer.

It's fun to do Persephone captions. Well, “fun”. You get to hit certain things directly that normally I'd only ever approach obliquely.

The weirdest thing of rewriting was Jon's line about being trapped underground – which was originally “Buried alive.” The question was whether anyone would take that literally, as the lab hadn't 100% been established as being underground. (and the stairs from the giant machine that lead to the lab go upwards, even though the whole thing is all underground.)

In short: in a plot as dense as ours, it's important to not confuse in any area except where you have to.

20-22

After a scene earlier of lying to someone's face, using the modern communication to do something exploring the same sort of thing seemed interesting. Also, efficient. For those following Page Budgets, the repeating panels of the phone aren't quite “free” panels, but they're relatively low energy panels. Plus it gets a LOT of information exchanged in a direct, quick way. Instead, we spend the effort on the expression panels, to show the journey that's NOT on the screen.

It's not stuff I'd do constantly, but I do like that we do it.

Nice Verðandi-shoulder-touch silent panel too. Yay Jamie and Matt!

I believe I originally wrote this for two pages, but with no captions. Jamie felt it was unnecessary, and they'd get a similar effect in a single page. The reason why I did it with two pages is that I wanted to slow the reader down in the process of discovery – there was a little bit more akin to the Rorschach scene in Watchmen, with the procedural exploration of the environment and trying to find a way in too.

In the script I said I may add captions at lettering, but reduced to a page, that felt like a necessary thing. It slows the eye, and lets us join Persephone in her internality.

(I actually wrote most of this as the opening of the next issue, before realising it didn't fit, which was nicely timed, as I realised that with some edits, it fits perfectly here.)

The mural introduced in issue 4, as coloured by Nathan Fairbairn.

Laura's glimpse back on panel 4 is one of my favourite minor moments – Matt's magenta behind the image really adds to it.

24-26

Minerva, in an issue of deniable manipulative shit, this is your most deniable and manipulative thing. Astounded, and I wrote it.

Last two panels call back to Imperial Phase I, for reasons which will become obvious.

Due to the way the pages moved around, Jamie suggested moving the reveal of the skulls to the previous page – they were originally on the final one, but the angle was nearly impossible to pull off, and worked better brought forward. You always want BIG information to be revealed on a page turn, but in this case, the panels are small enough to not register unless you're actively looking at them, plus the REAL meaning of them is only really get-able by those who recall a scene from issue 4.

Hence the flashbacks, to ensure people do recall them. We don't do a lot of this kind of thing, but as this has been a long time back, we felt it was worth really laying out the key facts, step by step. Also, free panels, for the page budget purposes.

(Of course, not for Matt, who is doing a really cool treatment here – the reds and blacks in one timeline, and the pink and blue dots in the flashbacks. Astounding. Give that man another Eisner.)

The “...but everyone else should be” has been sitting in my hard drive all that time too. Odd to hit this stuff as well.

I think I've said that Baal is one of my favourite characters in the whole series. Obviously much more to come here, and probably down the line. He was a character who was always going to become more central the further we got into this – you know I talk about knowing the characters arcs, but not always when the plots come to the top of the mix? There's certainly a take on WicDiv where this is revealed near the climax of Imperial Phase II along with the rest of it. I suspect that would have overloaded it – it needs space, and I'd hate to leave more than a month between this reveal and the What's-Going-On.

It always surprised me that more close readers didn't jump on a “Baal is Baal Hammon” argument, as there's stuff which I considered considerably more obscure that people were all over. He cries fire in issue 12, for example – though a lot of people were noting that 1920s Baal wasn't much like 2013 Baal after the Special. This stuff is fascinating, from my perspective.

Yes, Baal's hot stuff in the final panel. For those who are wondering about his Inanna tattoo, alternate covers aren’t strictly speaking canon, and gods have all kind of miracles available to them.

Next issue is two weeks late. As well as being one of the hardest issues we've ever done, there's been several real life disasters. Sorry for the delay, but we'll see you next week.

#WicDiv #the wicked and the divine #writer notes

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occupyvenus · 7 years ago

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Am I the only one who thinks this season is going slower than anticipated? Maybe it’s just because they kept hyping it as super fast-paced and my expectations were too high. I’m honestly feeling a little underwhelmed right now. Can’t really put my finger on why exactly, but still.

Maybe it’s because they are being so silent about r+l=j and white walker related stuff? I feel like these two things should really start driving the plot forward.

But Bran has had like 5 minutes of screentime, so no new white walker revelations there and that whole “we really need dragonglass” obsession is kinda getting boring. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to reveal anything about Jons birth to Sansa or Arya anytime soon neither.

I would have totally accepted if Tyrion and Jons entire cliff-interaction happened off screen, with Tyrion just showing up to tell Dany about the dragonglass out of nowhere. I really hope the whole conversation about Jon being a “northern fool” pays off somehow. Either by him causing his own downfall by making the same mistakes as Robb or Ned (falling for a foreign woman + trusting Cersei), being tempted by it and resisting because he learned his lesson, or doing that glorious double-agent stuff some people speculate about - acting like a “northern fool”, but fooling everyone else instead.

Even if that scene was meant to pave the road for a positive romantic / sexual / platonic / familial / political / whatever relationship between Jon and Dany, it’s very sloppy writing. They should form a bond through their own actions, not through Tyrion playing wing-man, telling each of them how great the other person is. If that was the only purpose of that scene I am going to scream.

That screen-time could have been used for way more interesting things. I mean, we could have gotten some unexpected Jon interacts with free-flying dragon moment instead. Imagine Jon standing on that cliff, but instead of Tyrion, Viserion/Rhaegal shows up, lands in front of him, they both stare at each other for a while before the dragon takes off again. Or even better, Tyrion showing up after that, witnessing that little interaction and looking a bit ~suspicious~ at Jon during and after their “I’m an idiot”, “Dany isn’t so bad” conversation.

I just feel like Jons targ-heritage should start to influence the plot soon. Especially now that he is in Dragonstone, face-to-face with the other last living targaryen and we know about his true parentage. I like all the little hints with Jon saying he isn’t a stark and the dragon flying by at the perfect time, I suppose it read the script, but I would want an actual character to hint at it. I want something more tangible. His entire conversation with Dany would have been way more interesting if the audience (especially casual viewers) were more aware of his situation. It would have simply had a bigger emotional impact if we already “knew” or at least strongly suspect that Jon “was born to rule the seven kingdoms” (according to the targ line of succession), that he is “the rightful ruler”. I absolutely loved Jon standing up for the north and telling her how it is, but it would have had more potential. Even Jons death and resurrection is kept a secret, ie hold back from influencing the story, because .... I don’t know. I don’t feel like we have time to set up new mysteries, when there are so many old ones waiting to be lifted.

I really hope that r+l=j will come up in the winterfell-plot somehow, because Littlefinger - without this peculiar information - has kinda stopped being a worthwhile villain. Seriously, Sansa is so done with his shit, neither Bran nor Arya are prone to manipulation, Lord Royce hates him, what vital threat does he pose to the starks if not for some juicy r+l=j info ? And the following implications concerning a certain redheads and northern kings romantic potential) But instead of making some sneaky comments about Jon parleying with the dragon queen, we get a weird metaphysical ... whatever that was.

Jons true parentage is like the biggest twist off the entire series and having it only impacting the story in the very, very, very last episodes feels … unworthy of it? I’m not even talking about revealing the truth to Jon or another major character, but they should just do ... something ... with it.

The same thing goes for Bran. Him being the three-eyed raven should really start to be important and crucial to the plot. I am going to assume that it will be very important ~somehow~, but until now he was nothing but a script-page with EXPOSITION written all over it. If he’s going to spend the rest of the season sitting in winterfell, devoid of all emotion, saying ominous shit and doing nothing but figuring out the “big mystery” who Jon’s dad is.... I’ll be really disappointed. I need Bran to be as important as he should be. I need Bran to be more than what he is now. Considering that we are moving towards the series ultimate conclusion, it should happen soon. I’m worried that he will stay in camp easy-exposition, only to ex-machina the shit out of his undefined powers out of nowhere.

Sam’s time at the citadel is similar in this aspect. Like what did he really accomplish there? Finding out that there is dragonglass in dragonstone (duuhhh) and healing Jorah. He is sitting on this huge mountain of fascinating information, the biggest accumulation of knowledge in all of westeros and we do not learn anything new by him being there. Nothing about “blood and fire”, dragons, the long night, the ptwp, azor ahai, the children of the forest, etc. He could really impact the big war there, but so far he hasn’t.

I’m rather content with the season so far, yes some of the writing is pretty sloppy, but what else is new. I don’t know, it’s just that the pacing feels ...kinda weird. It feels like there is so much going on, but they are holding back the most vital elements of the story for ... some reason, I suppose. Even Danys invasion feels like it hasn’t even really started yet. I don’t know most of these major plotlines just kinda stand there without having much movement themselves. They threw the tower of joy scene at us in the last finale and haven’t done anything with it. Keep in mind, we are already almost halfway through season 7.

The only two incidents that seem to really push the “big plot” in any direction are the whole Euron and Cersei situation and Jon meeting Dany. On second viewing even that long anticipated meeting feels a bit drawn-out and under-used, when considering it’s potential. I’m not saying that anything in the first three episodes necessarily falls into the “filler”-category, that’s not it. But there are only 10(!) episodes left. None of this would bother me if the last two seasons weren’t as short, but under these circumstances our major characters feel a bit too .. stationary.

The one exception would be Cersei, her plot is the only one I would call “dynamic”. It develops from scene to scene, she actively shapes her surroundings and is faced with new challenges or simply different situations almost every time she comes back on screen. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Dany, Sam, etc. mostly seem to talk about the stuff, they already talked about in the last scene, sometimes with a different character or a tiny bit of new information. Or they talk about things that happened to other characters. Seriously, Cersei already went through an entire arc, while everyone else feels like they are just finished with setting the stage. She is the most interesting, engaging character right now. There, I said it.

Jon started to actively further the plot by coming to dragonstone, but the Jon’s “big issue” in the second half of episode 3 was literally that he is stuck on Dragonstone and can’t leave. I actually enjoyed his little discussion with Dany very much, them meeting is a crucial step towards the final conclusion , finally coming closer to an answer to the big question behind all this “will they fight or fuck or both or switch between those ...”. But all the tension build in that interaction immediately dissolved when the ended with the half-baked conclusion of him being her prisoner somewhat, but not really.

This was only supposed to be like one or two paragraphs of mild complaining, but it ended up being way longer, because I just don’t know how to accurately put this into words. So thanks for sticking with me until the end. I’ll say it one more time, Cersei is the only character who seems to actually make both personal and political progress. Maybe they are finally done with putting all the pieces in place and can start with really pushing the story foward, but in that case, maybe cutting the episode number wasn’t such a good idea.

A bunch of stuff happens, but it doesn’t feel like stuff actually happens. Does that make any sense? Does anyone get what I mean? Is it only me?

#game of thrones #got spoilers #got s7 #got wank #i suppose #mild complaining #my stuff

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 8 years ago

Text

The One, The Many

Title: The One, The Many

Warnings: Talk and description of murder

Word Count: Roughly 11K

A/N: This is an original story with original characters and is a sort of murder mystery. Enjoy!

One: Peter

Locking his door, Peter Kinden crossed the deck, stepping onto the dock, the salty air hitting his face. Rhode Island was beautiful in fall on Bissel Cove. The walk to St. Helen’s Preparatory High School took roughly fifteen minutes, but Peter always made sure to stop at the cafe on his way. Ms. Hannah was always nice and knew his order by heart. Black medium coffee and a white icing donut with sprinkles. Peter always wished her a “delightfully sweet day” before tipping generously and continuing on his way to work.

The rest of the walk Peter took the opportunity to keep tabs on the town. The flower shop was bringing shipments of flowers in, they always ordered more than usual around homecoming season. The antiques shop put out the same rocking chairs with for sale signs on them that he’d seen every week since he’d moved there roughly twenty years ago. Peter always stopped along his route to work to pick up any pieces of trash, put anything that appears out of order, back in it’s place.

The stone steps of the school were inspected as he climbed. He’d need to sweep them today. The hallway leading to the first grade hallway needed to be buffed again. It was Friday, so plants needed to be watered in the main office, and it was a half day. The flowers weren’t part of his job description, but Peter always enjoyed the time he spent watering the flowers, speaking with the two women who worked in the office. They always read him the daily paper’s comics while sipping their coffee’s.

Arriving at his office, Peter found his stack of work orders waiting for him. The third floor men’s bathroom needed a new hinge on a stall door. Classroom 107 had a chalk tray that kept falling. The lightbulb in the projector of the computer lab on the second floor had gone out and needed to be replaced. Hanging up his jacket on the hook behind the door Peter continued to run through his to-do list, adding the new items he found on his way in. Sitting behind his desk he accidentally shook it, knocking over a pencil cup and a stack of papers.

“Right angles, tight angles. Right angles, tight angles. Right angles, tight angles.”

Peter repeated as he reorganized his desk top. Completed job orders were stacked cleanly in the top left corner. Next to them were work orders that were in progress. In the top center of the desk were the new orders. Top right hand corner was for the pencil cup. Lunch bag in the top right-hand side drawer. Not today though, today was Friday, half days we don’t bring lunches. Blank work order forms in the top left-hand side drawer. Coffee was placed next to the pencil cup. Cup’s stayed together. The donut is set on the bag after it has been neatly folded and placed in the bottom left-hand corner of the desk. With all things in order, Peter could begin his day. Grabbing the new stack of work orders Peter went to his cart, placing them in their waterproof page cover on their clipboard.

Gloves restocked? Check.

Trashbags? Check.

All cleaners? Check.

Broom? Check.

Mop? Check.

Each item was meticulously checked to Peters satisfaction. Being unprepared was unacceptable. He was too smart to be unprepared. Mr. Milton, his fourth grade teacher, had drilled this mantra into his head. Peter was accurate and calculated in every aspect of his daily routine. While he was more than capable of excelling in his studies and attaining a higher education than a high school diploma, Peter had always enjoyed the janitorial role. It was predictable, he could work alone, his skills were utilized and sought out. People appreciated him being meticulous and efficient, they applauded his ability to have a continuously diligent work ethic, and genuinely enjoyed having him around. For a man who had no family in his personal life, his work family was more than he could have hoped for.

“Peter! Are you ready for the latest and greatest from the comics?”

Jean, one of the women in the office, was always the reader. She loved creating different voices and personalities for each of the characters in the comic strips. Peter had often told her she would have made an incredible radio show star. Amy, who sat across from Jean, always made the coffee for the office. Peter always thought she might be an addict because of how much coffee she drank.

“We got that new watering can you told us about!” she beamed as she showed it off to Peter. “You were right, much more affordable than we thought it would be, and it holds almost twice as much!” She gripped Peter’s bicep, giving it a soft squeeze as she winked at him. “You’re gonna turn into a little Hulk after using this one for a while.”

“You’re trouble, Ms. Amy. Yes you are.”

While Jean read off the comics Amy started to organize her desk for the day. Peter always had to fight the urge to organize her desk for her. He never understood how people could function with such chaos around them. How did their brains work effectively in that environment? His attention was drawn away from the irritating clutter when a young student came into the office. He froze as his eyes settled on the girl standing in front of him. It was Natalie. What was she doing here?

“Ms. Jean? Mr. Holten needs a bunch of these copies made before the end of the day. He said he’s sorry for not bringing them down earlier.”

“That’s fine Haley,” Jean said as she got up to grab the papers. Peter looked at Jean extremely confused. Who was Haley? That’s Natalie. He’d know the girl who’d humiliated him anywhere.

“You can head back to class now, here’s your hall pass.”

Peter stood there, glued to his spot as he watched the door shut behind her. Jean and Amy both called his name, waving their hands in front of his face, but he didn’t notice. Peter returned the watering can to its spot and left the office, leaving the plants unwatered. The woman gave each other confused looks before shrugging it off and going back to their coffee and newspaper.

Peter slammed his office door behind him, running his sweating hands over his face. What was Natalie doing here? She couldn’t be here, she lived in New York last he heard. He wasn’t in high school anymore, and neither was she. Yet there she was, standing in that office. Peter tried to ground himself by looking around his office. He tried to fight his mind as it brought him back to the last time he had been within ten feet of Natalie.

It was Peter’s senior year and Natalie, a fellow senior and his lab partner that semester, had asked him over to finish their final report. They had nearly finished it in study hall but her boyfriend had de-railed them. When Peter arrived he’d found Natalie crying. Mark, her boyfriend, had been cheating on her, her best friend Lindsey having just called to let her know. Peter was never very comfortable in emotional situations, but did his best to comfort her by making some hot chocolate and listening.

They’d managed to start on the rest of the report when Natalie decided she didn’t want to focus on it. Peter remembered how she’d gotten up, grabbing his hand, and lead him from the dining room table to the TV room. She’d sat next to him on the couch, their shoulders touching, and started rubbing his thigh. Peter remembered being confused because while Natalie was attractive, he really had never thought of her in a romantic sense. Yet, despite that, he still felt himself getting aroused. Natalie noticed and climbed into his lap, grinding herself into him as she started into his eyes.

“You like me, right Peter?” He’d nodded, not at all sure how to converse in this situation. “You just want me to feel better right?” Again, Peter nodded, his eyes widening as Natalie slowly pulled her top over her head.

Her hands fell to the hem of Peter’s shirt and lifted it over his head. Peter looked up her, hoping she would give him some sort of direction. He couldn’t deny it, as his eyes traveled over her body, taking in her simple bra and breasts that were mere inches from his face, he found his body giving a very positive response while his brain was still unsure. Natalie brought her hands to either side of his face, turning it up to hers as she pressed her lips into his.

Peter had never kissed a girl before, but by the pressure she put behind her lips he sensed she was very sure about what she was doing. He leaned into the kiss, mimicking her actions. As her hand slipped behind his head, her fingers running through his short hair, his own hands rose to the sides of her head, one cupping her face as the other tangled in her hair. Her hips started to grind into his lap as her tongue ran across his lips. When he opened his own mouth, his tongue meeting hers, he felt a twitch in his lap when her soft moan met his ears. Pressing another deep kiss into his lips, Natalie slid back off Peter’s lap, undoing her pants.

“Do you want to? Because I know I do.”

Thinking back Peter remembered not entirely being sure what she meant, but the hormone high rushing through his body told him he wanted it too. Pushing off the couch he discarded his pants, stepping out of them just as Natalie pressed her body to his. His breath hitched as her small hand found his erection, tentatively grazing her fingers along his length.

“Someone’s excited,” she’d murmured against his lips. Pulling his body closer to hers, Natalie guided Peters shaky hand to her breast, showing her how to massage and fondle her as she continued to drag her fingertips over him. Just as she’d started to slip her hand past the waistband of his boxers the sound of the garage door opening made her fly back.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Grab your stuff! Now!” she hissed as she rushed to the dining room, throwing his things into his backpack. “No, there’s no time for your clothes, here, out the window!”

Peter threw his things into his arms and ran over the waist high window Natalie was opening. She grabbed his things throwing them into the bush below and then practically threw him out the window. Peter hit the bush, biting down hard into his bottom lip trying not to yell out.

He’d landed bare back first into a rose bush. Just wanting to get out of there as fast as possible, Peter grabbed his things and ran through five or six backyards before finding a tree he could hide behind and put his clothes back on. Once he’d gotten home, Peter had to use a tweezers to get the broken, embeded rose thorns out of his skin. He’d only spoken to Natalie once after that night. When he came to class the next day she’d finished the report for them and requested a new lab partner for the rest of the semester. Peter asked her why she’d want a new lab partner after what happened with them the night before.

“What? Nothing happened. Ew, why would something happen with you. You’re such a nerd.”

The heat that rose in his cheeks that day rose in his cheeks again now. He had been so embarrassed and humiliated, and it was all for nothing. Peter tried to calm himself down from a panic attack as he looked around his office. He wasn’t in high school. That wasn’t actually Natalie. He was a grown man, with a job, and a life. He wasn’t the terrified, humiliated boy running and bleeding in his boxers. He was a janitor, he’d moved on. Or at least he’d tried.

Peter got ahold of himself and returned to his cart. Checking what the next job on his list was, he headed out to work. Hopefully the rest of the day he would be able to forget about all of this as the work day went on. It was only a half day. He just had to pray he didn’t see her again.

Unfortunately, it was a small school. Peter ran into her three more times that day. Her classroom needed the lightbulb in the projector fixed. Her locker was in the hallway where someone’s juice exploded all over the floor and he had to mop up the mess. Peter had nearly had a heart attack when she came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder just before he was about to leave for the day.

“Um, excuse me? Hi, you dropped your pen.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you.”

She’d flashed a smile as she’d left and once again, he was staring at Natalie as she walked away. Peter’s fists tightened, his heart started to race. Closing his eyes, tightening his jaw, Peter turned and went back to his office. Once the piles on his desk were organized and ready for Monday, Peter headed home. It had only been a half day, but it was one of the longest day’s Peter had had in awhile. On his walk home he thought about what he would make for lunch. The Captain had gone grocery shopping for everyone this week so there were a lot of options for them.

He tried to focus on lunch, but Natalie’s face kept coming back to him. That rage and anger, it kept slamming into him like a strong wave. Never in his life had he felt so insignificant and used. Natalie had set a precedent for Peter of people he tried his best to avoid. People who use others are inexcusable. Telling the truth is logical, and simple. Peter never understood why others seemed to never see it that way. He always did his best to see the logic in things. It was not logical for something that happened so long ago to still make him so emotionally unhinged, but it did and that scared Peter more than anything.

Looking down at his watch Peter picked up his pace. He’d talk with the Captain about it at lunch.

Two: Maria

“Must you always make a mess!”

“Sorry mama.” Thomas hung his head, the blocks falling from his hands. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Yes you will young man. You know better than this. Spotless, or no dinner, you know the rules.”

Thomas nodded, moving to begin picking up his room. Maria did one last scan of the room, making sure no more dirty clothes need to be picked up, and left. Thomas doesn’t even notice the loud thud of the slide bolt outside his door anymore. Maria grumbled about the constant messiness of young boys as she moved to the other room’s, gathering the laundry needing to be done. She’d make a trip to the local laundromat after she finished updating Thomas’ scrapbook.

Like many doting mothers, Maria loved to document her little one’s childhood. This past week Thomas had made several new block towers that she had happily taken pictures of. Flipping towards the back of the album she made a mental note she would need a new one since Thomas was turning seven next Monday. Looking over the pictures she smiled, thinking back on the day she’d gotten him.

She’d taken a drive to Webster, Massachusetts deciding to take a weekend away after her last little boy, Andrew, had passed. She’d been on her way home after eating dinner when she heard the blare of sirens from the fire station down the street. Pulling to the side of the road she watched as the fire trucks had raced by, an ambulance joining them. Once traffic began to move again she noticed a crying woman running up to the fire station’s door. Maria’s heart broke for the poor girl and she pulled into the driveway, rolling down her window.

“Miss, miss are you alright?”

“A-are they all gone?”

“The firemen? It’s looks like it darling. Do you need some help?”

The woman looked back to the box she’d set down by the door before looking back to Maria. Without a word she took off to her car, and tore out of the driveway. Maria watched as she left, about to leave herself when a loud cry made her head whip back to the box. Putting her car in park she got out, looking around to see if anyone else was nearby.

The flaps of the box came apart easily and Maria gasped at the big brown eyes looking up at her. Cooing at the little boy she picked him up carefully, swaddling him in her arms. Maria swayed, trying to calm the little boy, keeping an eye out for passing cars or any sign of the firemen returning. Maria was well aware of the Safe Haven law. Someone could leave a child at a hospital, police station, or fire department, no questions asked and the child would become a ward of the state.

Looking back into the child’s eyes Maria chose to follow her mother’s heart. Picking up the box she brought the child into her car, placing the box on the passenger side floorboard before gently putting the little boy back inside. She pulled out her phone, searching for the nearest Walmart or Target where she could buy a car seat and some supplies until she could get home.

Maria smiled down at the little one.

“The Captain will be so excited to meet you little Thomas.”

Sitting at her kitchen table Maria looked up from the pictures of six year old Thomas to the bookshelf across from her. All of the picture albums from each year she had her little boys were arranged neatly. The Captain always told her she was doing God’s work, taking children under her wing when they weren’t being cared for properly.

Before Thomas, there had been Andrew. He was about four or five months old when his mother had left him alone in the shopping cart at the small supermarket in New Hampshire. Maria remembered shaking her head and going over to the sleeping baby. “A truly good mother know’s better than to do that to a sleep child,” she had whispered as she lifted his car seat from the cart. She’d had the pleasure of being his mother for seven years.

Lucas had been with her before Andrew. The little adventurous three year old had wandered from his daycare group at the local Connecticut museum. “Over worked,” she had muttered as she snapped him into his new car seat, smiling as he sucked on the lollipop. “People can’t watch all you cuties when they’re overworked. Can they?” Lucas’s little giggle had made her heart swell and she knew she’d made a good choice. That laugh had filled her ears for four years.

Her eyes landed on Michael’s album, he had only spent one year with her when he was six, when she heard Thomas knocking at his door.

“Mama, my room’s all clean. Can you check? I’m really hungry!”

“Coming Thomas!” she closed the album, getting up from the table and checking the clock. “We need to start on dinner for the Captain soon so I hope it’s all right and tight like we like it!”

Three: Cody

Journal? Check.

Camera? Check.

Cash and bus pass? Check.

Rope? Check.

Pocket knife? Check.

Plastic baggies? Check.

Gloves? Check.

Cody set his backpack on his desk chair by his stack of clean clothes Maria left for him. He set his alarm making sure he’d be up in time to catch his bus into the city and checked his calendar. This weekend it was Connecticut. He’d watched enough crime shows on TV to know he had to vary his pattern. Not getting caught is the only way he can carry out his duty.

Opening the bolt to Thomas’ room the next morning he slid the stack of Tupperware and jugs of water inside. “Maria made these for you. We’re leaving for the weekend again, be back soon.”

“Will you be back for my birthday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world bud.”

Cody locked the bolt, grabbed his backpack and headed out to the bus stop. Cody always took a back window seat and kept his back against the window if possible. He liked being able to keep an eye on everyone, made him feel safer that way. During his ride he would look through his journals, remembering past adventures. Each state had their own journal. Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire, that was the order he visited them in. Every 3rd week of the month Cody would take his trip. The Captain said it was therapeutic and he was doing a public service.

Cody’s father tore apart his family when he decided to cheat on Cody’s mother with prostitutes. He did this for nearly three years before finally deciding to outright leave during Cody’s senior year. His mother took it horribly and took to drinking heavily. As soon as Cody turned eighteen he left home and found the Captain. It had been one year this month since joining the family and he never once doubted his decision. The Captain cares for him and listens to his problems, he also helps him on his project. Cody paged through his New York journal, smiling at the pictures at the top of each page and running his hand over the piece of fabric below them. Each woman had been so unique.

The Captain had taught him how to not get caught. Never go to the same city twice. Rotate through the state's nearby, never going to the same one twice in a row. Use whatever you can find around you, don’t create a pattern. They deserved to die, but not necessarily to suffer, so be efficient. Get back on the bus as soon as possible after and come home. Prostitutes are the scum of the earth. They’d torn apart his family and how many thousands of others. They carry and spread diseases. He was truly doing a public service by eliminating them one by one.

“Is someone sitting here dear?”

“Uh, no, no go ahead.” Cody smiled as he moved his bag between his feet. Maria had taught him to always be gracious and accommodating to women, especially if they are older. Putting the journal back in his bag, Cody continued to run through the pages in his mind, he’d read them enough times. This weekend was going to be special. This woman would be number twelve.

The bus arrived in Bridgeport around dinner time and Cody found a sandwich shop to hang out in. There was a bar against the window he chose to sit at, he always enjoyed people watching. One of his favorite things to do is to make up stories for the people. The woman strutting down the street was actually a world famous model that was trying to go unnoticed but some things you can’t leave on the runway. A woman walking five dogs at once rescued all of them from kill shelters and rehabilitated them. The elderly couple shuffling along have been best friends in love since they were five. Cody liked to imagine good in people’s lives, he enjoyed pretending there was no such thing as a horrible or painful life.

Checking his watch and seeing it was eleven o’clock, Cody gathered his things, put up his hood, and hit the streets. After about an hour of walking Cody saw a man walk out an alley, adjusting himself as he turned down the street. He turned the corner, scanning for anyone else being back there. Half way down the alley he ran right into a woman coming around the corner of a building.

“Woah, hey, sorry about that.” The woman looked him up and down. “Lost? Need anything?”

“Uhm, we-were you with that man?”

“I was...why?”

“Could I maybe, I mean unless you have to be somewhere,” the woman cut him off.

“Oh I have plenty of time,” she grabbed his hand, “follow me.” Cody followed as she led him back around the corner, sitting him down on a stack of old milk crates. Easing herself into his lap she tried to push his backpack off his shoulders.

“Don’t want this getting in the way do we?” She started to grind her hips into Cody, running her hands over his face and neck. “Already set to go from what I can tell,” she whispered in his ear.

“Oh, that’s just my pocket knife.” The woman pulled back, her eyes searching Cody’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll move it.”

Reaching into his pocket, Cody slid the collapsed knife out. Raising it up, he held it in front of her face. Her eyes shifted from the knife to Cody as she saw a smile start to spread across his face.

“You can put it away, no need for it with what I’ve got planned.” She tried to smile and bat her eyelashes, but Cody’s smile just grew. Grabbing a fist full of hair on top of her head, Cody yanked her head back as he flipped out his knife, dragging it across her throat.

“For what you have planned, I should put it away. For what I have planned, I need to keep it out.”

“No, no, please, I’ll leave. Please just let me go, I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well of course you won’t sweetheart,” Cody laughed, “you’ll be dead you stupid slut.”

Yanking her hair so she came off his lap, Cody threw her to the ground. Rolling her to her stomach Cody straddled her, pinning her down and pulling her head up. Reaching forward, he plunged the knife into her throat, quickly and cleaning slicing it open. Cody watched as the blood poured onto the ground and felt her rigid body start to relax under him as the life left her body. Keeping a tight grip on her hair, Cody brought his knife just below his fingers and cut it off.

“Never leave anything with your DNA on the body,” the Captain had taught him.

Cody pushed off of her, taking a few steps away and crouching down again to get into his backpack. The hair was put into a baggie before he grabbed his camera. Cody took pictures of her face, the blood, how her body lay on the ground. He picked up a corner of her jacket and sliced it off, putting it into a baggie. Cody did a sweep of the area, put on gloves, and grabbed anything he could find to throw on top of her. The Captain said to never let it look too much like you were trying to bury them out of shame. Bury them enough that they won’t be quickly spotted or found so you can get away, but also realize the message covering them with trash will send. Leaving the alley on the opposite side he entered, Cody walked back to the bus station.

“I’m home,” Cody bolted the door behind him, heading down to his room. “Anyone home?”

“No!” Thomas called out. “Cody, can you play with me?”

“No, I gotta do homework for school tomorrow. Maria should be home soon, so should Peter. Maybe they’ll play with you.”

“Okay.”

Cody hated when he could hear how lonely Thomas was, but he had to do his homework. That was part of the agreement with the Captain. Weekends he went away he had to do homework the rest of the day when he got back until he had to help Maria with dinner.

Sitting down at his desk Cody pulled out his things from the weekend and got to work putting them in his journal. The Captain would want to hear all about it before bed.

Four: Peter

Walking to work Monday morning Peter followed his usual routine. Stopping at the cafe for his coffee and donut, telling Ms. Hannah to have a “delightfully sweet day. The flowershop was unloading flowers. Rocking chairs were in their usual row, for sale tags swinging in the wind. Peter generally enjoyed this alone time, it was crowded at home sometimes. Today Peter was tense on his walk. Running through his list of jobs for the day, Peter kept messing up his list. All he could think of was the possibility of seeing Natalie again. He’d managed to keep his cool and stay rational last Friday, but that was only a half day. Now every time be was going to be out of his office working on a job he was going to be worrying about running into her.

The papers were organized in their neat piles. Lunch was put neatly in its drawer. Donut placed perfectly on the bag. Peter let himself relax into his chair. The list ran through his mind, over and over.

“Just focus on the list. Just focus on the list. Just focus on the list.”

Once Peter felt like he had a strong enough hold on his composure he checked over his cart and began his day. The first stop was the main office, they were having some copier issues. This also meant that Peter wouldn’t be near classrooms. That meant no students. Hopefully.

“Morning ladies.”

“Morning Peter,” Jean and Amy said in unison. Peter made his way to the copy room, fighting the urge to organize Amy’s desk again. Just as he was about to start taking a look the principle came over to him.

“Peter, you’re on my list for today.”

“Hope it’s the good list,” Peter joked, “can’t have the boss man not like me.”

“You’re fine Peter, I promise. I just need you to take those vacation days we talked about. We’re coming up on the end of the calendar year here. I hate to ask this, but could you possibly take these days sooner than later? You know how crazy it gets around Thanksgiving and Christmas, so it would be a huge help if you could take them in the next month or so.”

“Of course, no problem. Just let me check out my to-do list and see when would work best.”

The principle gave Peter a grateful smile before leaving him to his work. Thankfully the problem was simple and within a few minutes Peter was on his way. The rest of the morning went without incident. Several smaller projects were checked off quickly. By the time lunch rolled around he’d taken care of several of Tuesday’s tasks as well. Sitting back at his desk Peter left the door to his office open. Being in so many classrooms and in the halls during passing between classes Peter was well known by the students.

“Hey Peter!”

“Hi Mr. Peter.”

“Have a good lunch!”

Peter always enjoyed being able to eat by himself while still having limited social interaction. At home he rarely was able to eat by himself. The houseboat was spacious there was no doubt, but with that many people it did get tight. The Captain said it was character building, and he didn’t necessarily disagree. Learning to live with different personalities helped Peter to be able to converse with different types of people at work.

“Hey, Mr. Pete?” The girl’s voice at the door startled Peter out of his thoughts.

“What? Oh, Maggie, hello. Did you need anything?”

“Do you know how to get stains out of shirts?” Peter laughed and got out of his chair.

“Soap and water is always a good option, depends on the stain though. What’d you spill?”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” Maggie gestured to someone to come over to the door. “Haley got chocolate milk on her pants.”

Peter’s body went rigid as he saw the girl looking down at her stained pants. Peter thought his heart stopped when her eyes turned to his. Her eyes were just like Natalie’s, just as brown and beautiful.

“Can you help me?”

“I...I, uh, soap.” Peter cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “Water and soap, try that. If it doesn’t come out go to the nurse, she’ll give you a change of clothes and then you can take it home.”

“Thanks, Mr. Pete,” the girls said in unison as they ran off laughing to the bathroom. All Peter could see was Natalie. The rage came back with a vengeance. It was as if he was back in high school and Natalie was mocking him. Laughing at him as she ran off with her little friend. Peter’s hands balled up in fists, he nearly drove his fist into the wall he was so mad.

“That bitch,” he muttered to himself as he slammed the office door shut. “Why can’t she just go away. All she does is humiliate people. What a inconsiderate bitch.”

Peter tried to contain his rage but all he could see was her laughing face along with him nearly naked and bleeding, running through people’s yards. Cabinets were slammed, papers were thrown. Peter knocked his chair into the wall, the cracking of wood snapping him out of his trance. Closing his eyes tight and taking a very deep breath, Peter tried to regain control.

“It’s not logical. It’s not logical. It’s not logical.”

Peter braced himself on his desk, repeating “it’s not logical” until he was finally starting to feel calm. Bringing his head up he realized the time, he was already behind on the to-do list for the afternoon. Cursing under his breath, Peter quickly reorganized his office before grabbing his cart to get back to work.

Making a final round of the first floor before the final bell, Peter ran into the principle again.

“Hey boss, I think this week would be a good one to take off so I can use those vacation days. I could start vacationing tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”

“Tomorrow’s great, I’m just glad you’re gonna take it! Go do something fun.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Well go pack up and get out of here then!”

Walking down the front steps of the school, Peter always smiled at the energy rush the kids got at the end of the day. Mornings, they looked fairly awake. The middle of the day half of them were zombies. The end of the day though, that’s when you saw the energy boost. Peter watched as the kids ran to their parents and grouped up with friends to start the walk home. A tap at his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Peter’s fists balled up as he turned to see the girl standing behind him. “I just wanted to tell you that I got the stain out. That’s all.”

“Glad to hear it,” Peter grumbled through gritted teeth.

Turning on his heel, he jogged down the steps, trying to keep moving in the opposite direction. He never stopped moving until he hit a stop light several blocks from the school. Looking around, the rage started to build again as he saw Haley coming up behind him. Taking a few steps forward, a car horn blaring made him jump back before he was hit. Waving his hand in an apology to the driver he turned, only to find Haley right in front of him.

“You okay Mr. Pete?”

“Fine. No problem’s here.”

“Uh, okay,” Haley giggled.

Peter’s head snapped back towards her. “Did you just laugh at me?”

“What? No.”

“Yes you did, you just laughed. Don’t you ever learn?”

“What?” Haley looked past him and pointed to the green light. “We should walk. And I didn’t laugh at you.”

“Oh, so now you’re a liar. You mock people and you lie. Well isn’t that just great!” Peter couldn’t stop the rage. “Damnit Natalie, I thought you might grow out of it. Just can’t stop can you?”

“Mr. Peter you’ve got issues or somethin’.” Haley pushed past him and Peter followed. He didn’t say another word as they walked until he saw her starting to move towards the side road that took you down to the docks.

“Where are you going?”

Haley stopped and turned around. “I come here after school to relax for a bit. Why?”

“I...I’m sorry about before. I didn’t mean to yell at you, it’s been a long day. I think I could make it up to you though.”

“What?”

“My friend has a boat he lets me stay on with him. You want to see it?”

“Really? I’ve always wanted to live on a boat!”

Peter looked down at his feet as he laughed before looking back at Natalie. “Why don’t you come with me then? The Captain would love to meet you.”

“Come on in,” Peter opened the door, gesturing for her to move past him. She looked around the house, it was neat and extremely organized. Peter gestured towards the breakfast bar as he moved to grab glasses.

“Maria’s going to be starting dinner soon. You’ll like it, she’s a great cook.”

“Oh, thanks but I can’t stay.”

“Yes you can. It’s no bother really. Maria will love having you.”

“No, I can-” Peter cut her off.

“Come meet Thomas, he’s a riot.” When Haley didn’t move, Peter set his jaw and crossed to her. “I said, come meet Thomas.” Grabbing her arm, Peter brought her down the short hallway. When she saw the bolt on the door she immediately started struggling against his grip.

“What are you doing? Pete, what are you doing?”

“It’s Peter. And you’re going to meet Thomas. Listen better, Natalie.”

“Natalie?” Her eyes went back and forth between his angry eyes and the thick bolt on the door. “Who’s Natalie? I’m Haley.” Peter just stared at her for a moment before undoing the bolt.

“Thomas, meet Haley. She’s staying for dinner.” Peter shoved her through the door as she screamed and tried to fight him.

“Uncle Peter what’s going on?” Thomas yelled. “Who is she?”

“She’s your new friend. Happy Birthday bud! She’s going to stay the night. Share your toys or Maria’s gonna punish you.” Haley kept screaming and banging against the door. Peter went to the Captain’s room, he’d know what to do.

Five: Maria

“Peter, did you ask me first before you gave my boy a present?”

“I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it. Plus, I didn’t plan on her coming over anyway. It’s just one night.”

Maria slammed the pot on the stove. “But it’s a special night. It’s his seventh birthday!”

“Peter, you should have asked first. You know the importance of tonight.”

“Yes Captain,” Peter murmured. “I’ll be in my room then. Have a nice night.”

“But what about her?” Maria groaned.

“Just put this in her food and she won’t be a problem.” Maria picked up the bottle the Captain was looking at. She got back to work making Thomas’s favorite meal. A boy should always eat like a king on his birthday, especially on his last birthday. Maria threw a little bit of food with the crushed pills mixed in onto a plate, and went back to Thomas’s room.

“Thomas, I’m going to slide some food through for Natalie.”

“It’s Haley!” the girl screamed.

“Like I said Thomas,” Maria continued, “this food is for Natalie. Do not eat it, I have a special birthday dinner for you instead.”

Bending over she used the bolted slot at the bottom of the door. She hadn’t needed to use it in many years since Thomas was such a good boy, but she didn’t trust this Natalie girl. The tray went through easily and she heard the girl move towards it.

“Is it safe?” she whispered to Thomas. “Are they poisoning me?”

“Poison you?” Thomas laughed, “why would they do that? Mama’s a good cook! Eat it! I can’t wait for my dinner, it’s my birthday you know!”

Maria smiled as Thomas rambled on with his new friend. Maybe Peter had been right and they would get along. Moving back to the kitchen Maria found the mess of journals on the counter.

“Cody! Clean these up! You know better than to leave this everywhere.”

“Sorry Maria. I’m going to eat dinner in my room tonight, I have a lot of homework.”

“Alright, I’ll bring you and Peter some dinner.”

Finishing up Thomas’s meal, Maria went back to the door.

“Thomas? Thomas is she sleeping?”

“Yes mama, I think the food made her tired.” Maria smiled as she undid the bolt.

“Come on out love, quietly though, we don’t want to wake her.”

Thomas tiptoed around her, before running to the kitchen to see what was waiting for him.

“You made pizza!! Mmm, your pizza’s the best mama!”

Thomas almost choked he ate his food so quickly. Maria got a little teary as she watched him tell her stories about his day and the games he invented. She was going to miss him so much.

With dinner all wrapped up, it was time for presents. Thomas loved the postcard Cody had picked up for him in Connecticut. The old set of coveralls Peter had given him were put on immediately, he couldn’t wait to play in them. His gift from the Captain of a compass fascinated him so much he almost forgot about mama’s gift. The large box was wrapped carefully, she’d been working on it this whole past year.

“Mama, is this blanket for me?” Thomas beamed as he held it up.

“Yes love it is, it’s a special blanket all little boys should have on their seventh birthdays. Here, let me show you something special about it.”

Maria pulled the boy into her lap on the couch. The blanket was made with a very soft wool side that she rubbed up against his face as he laughed. The other side she had used a picnic blanket with an almost plastic like texture.

“See, now you won’t ruin it when you play. You always used to steal the picnic blanket in the hall closet, so I just made you your own one.”

“I never stole a picnic blanket.” Thomas looked up a Maria very confused. “I’m not allowed in the hall closet.”

“Oh, not at this house dear, at our old house.”

“What old house?”

“Never you mind dear. Now, let me show you how we sleep with this blanket. Lay back.” Thomas relaxed into her arms as Maria smiled down at him. “Sleep well my dear.”

Maria brought the blanket up around Thomas’ face, with the plastic side against his skin. He giggled as she brought it around his head, bunching it tightly in her hands. When she didn’t let up he started to squirm so she pinned his arms down. His legs started to kick as the panic set it, but that was only normal.

“Mama! Mama let me out! Mama I’m scared!”

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay sweetheart. Just go to sleep.” Maria started to rock him in her arms as he kicked and flailed. She was stronger than she looked and held the blanket tightly around his face.

“Mama! Let me out!”

“Oh sweetheart mama can’t do that. Just go to sleep like a good little boy. Just go to sleep. Just go to sleep. Just go to sleep.”

Maria held the blanket tightly over his face. She rocked him in her arms as his body slowly stopped fighting. She sang him songs and told him stories. All while she looked at the bookshelf across from her. Thomas, Andrew, Lucas, Michael, Aiden. So many boys had been saved from horrible mothers by her. She’d loved them as her own and taken excellent care of them. The Captain was right, she was saving them.

No matter how much she loved them though, they could never live past seven. If she had to lose her own little angel at that tender age, then so did their families. She always gave their families closure though. The angels were always returned to their home cities. A hospital, fire station, or police station received them, wrapped in their favorite blanket.

Thomas stopped struggling and Maria knew she had to get some sleep before her long day tomorrow. Carefully pulling the blanket back from his face, Maria stared into his lifeless eyes. Gently closing his eyelids, Maria re-wrapped the blanket tight around his face and carried him to bed. She carefully stepped over sleeping Natalie, laid him down, and left the room, bolting the door behind her.

“Sleep well my angels.”

Six: Peter

Shrill screams from Thomas’s room woke Peter the next morning. Groaning and grumbling he staggered over to his door. “Pipe down in there!” The screams continued and he went to find Maria.

“Maria, what did you do to Natalie last night?”

“Nothing, I just gave Thomas his birthday present that’s all.”

“Did you put him back in bed after?” Maria’s eyes went wide as she realized what was happening. Peter just laughed. “So that’s why she’s screaming.”

After eating breakfast, showering, and getting ready, Peter went to Natalie.

“Good morning sunshine.”

“You bastard let me out!”

“Someone’s cranky today aren’t they?”

“Let me out you sick fuck! You drugged me!”

“Language young lady,” Maria scolded. “You should have better manners. Did your mother teach you nothing?”

“Maria, give her a break.” Peter went to his room to grab his things for the day. “I need to run out for a moment Natalie. Don’t worry. I’ll be back for you.”

“No! No! Please don’t leave! I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll stop screaming!”

Peter laughed as he checked the bolts on the door, she’d need all of them to be used. “You can scream as much as you want love. It’s not like anyone can hear you anyways.”

Peter took a deep breath as he stepped out his front door and onto the dock. Fall really was a gorgeous time. Strolling along his usual route, Peter made a stop by Ms. Hannah. This time ordering two donuts, he said he wanted one for later since it was his birthday yesterday and hed forgotten to celebrate. Ms. Hannah was kind and gave him his order for free, but Peter tipped her generously anyways. The next stop was the flower shop. He’d only been in a handful of times, but the lovely fragrances never ceased to give him a bit of a buzz as they assaulted his senses.

“Looking for anything in particular?” the woman behind the counter smiled at him. “We have lots of sales at the moment.”

“Do you have roses? Deep red roses?”

“Of course dear.” The woman shuffled over to the roses, grabbing two dozen. “How many would you like?”

“Twenty would be perfection.”

“Do you want the thorns taken off? We do it for free.”

“That’s very nice of you, but they can stay. I don’t mind them.”

Peter thanked her as he left and headed home. He couldn’t wait to show Natalie what he had gotten for her.

Locking the door behind him, Peter set the flowers and donuts on the counter and went to his room. He rifled through his things, finding an old duffel bag, a hammer, some rope, and an old pocket knife he’d borrowed from Cody. Grabbing the flowers and donuts, he went to Natalie’s room.

“Sunshine, can I come in?”

“Um, yes. Yes you can come in.”

Peter unbolted the door, slowly opening it keeping half of his body behind it. He’d been smart to do that because he avoided getting drilled in the head with the lamp being hurled at him.

“Oh sunshine, you’ll want to stop that right now. I have food for you.”

“Let me out!”

“Calm down, and I’ll give you some food.” Peaking around the door Peter saw her backing up slowly into the room. “Just relax love, it’s only a donut.”

“You’re not gonna drug me again?”

“No love, I don’t need to.” Peter held out a donut to her, which she quickly took and then retreated to the back of the room to eat. “See, you’re fine. Everything’s fine.”

Haley’s eyes never left his as he set the roses down with his bag. She dropped the donut and pressed herself flat against the wall when she see’s what’s inside.

“No, no, no, no please! Please, you don’t have to do this!”

“Oh yes I do. No one humiliates me. No one laughs at me. The Captain is right, you should never let people have power over you. No one as smart as me should ever let someone have control over my mind.”

“I...I don’t have control over your mind. You do. I swear!” Haley’s head fell into her hands and she crumbled onto the floor.

“Oh stop whining, Natalie! God you women. You’re either laughing and us and mocking us, or your all hormonal and weepy and we’re supposed to feel bad for you.”

“I...I never laughed at you!” she sobbed. “AND I’M NOT NATALIE!”

The wave of rage crashed down on Peter and he couldn’t stop himself. Grabbing the rope he charged at her, pinning her to the ground as she screamed. He tied her hands tightly before slapping her across the face.

“Shut your mouth you bitch. You did this to yourself. You thought you could humiliate me and get away with it?” Peter turned to grab her feet and froze.

“Thomas!!” Maria screamed.

Haley watched as Peter became two people at once.

“How could you put this filthy girl on top of my baby!” Peter’s voice shrieked.

Peter’s voice returned to normal. “I’m so sorry Maria, I didn’t realize. It’s her fault!”

Peter’s voice rose again before he struck her across the face. “You bitch! Making Peter hurt my baby! You heartless...inconsiderate…bitch!” Before Peter could strike her again his body went rigid, his face going rigid.

“That’s enough.” Peter’s voice was low, and stern. “Peter, remove yourself and the girl from Thomas. Maria, Thomas will remained unharmed, you’ll be able to take him home later tonight. Right now, Peter needs to regain his power and control. I’ll speak with both of you after.”

Peter’s face relaxed, he got off of Haley and moved her off of Thomas’s bed. Setting her down in the middle of the room he tied her feet with the remaining rope. Haley studied his every move, trying to process what she just witnessed.

“I’m sorry. Normally they leave me alone when I’m in the middle of something. That was rude of Maria to interrupt even though we were in Thomas’s space. She always gets a little hysterical after she loses a little one.”

“L-loses a little one?” Peter rocked back, crossing his legs and sitting next to her, running his fingers through her hair.

“Maria put her little boy, Jacob, to sleep about twenty years ago and he never woke up. He tossed and turned and his blanket got all twisted around his face. It was horrible. The Captain found her soon after and took her in. She saves other little boys now with bad mom’s, it’s how she makes up for being a bad mom that day. Thomas turned seven yesterday though, so he had to die. If she can’t keep her baby past seven then no one else can.”

“That’s...that’s sick! God what are you?!” A fist to her face quickly quieted Haley, and Peter continued.

“The Captain helps all of us. He found Cody when he was 18. He helped him clean up the world. Prostitutes are such dirty people. They just use you for money. But you know all about using people don’t you Natalie?” Peter smiled down at her before grabbing a rose.

“Do you remember these? You threw me into them. Couldn’t throw me out forever though could you? You know, when I got home, I got beat so bad. Of course I didn’t lie about where I was. Lying isn’t logical. My daddy beat me for being in your house, he said it wasn’t proper or polite to be alone in a ladies house, let alone doing what you made me do.”

“Please,” Haley whimpered as her face started to swell. “Please, just let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. Please!”

Peter watched her as he sobbed. He watched how her body shook, how her nose ran. He’d given her plenty of slack to stretch out but she just stayed balled up. Reaching into his bag he pulled out the pocket knife Cody let him borrow. Haley screamed when she saw it and started to pull back and move away. Peter just laughed and moved with her until she was pinned against the wall.

Very carefully Peter took the blade, and started to cut away her clothes. He started with her top. Natalie had taken her’s off first. He gripped the material and sliced away at it, up the front to expose her, and then he shifted his attention to her shoulders to cut away the rest of the shirt. As he worked he tried to avert his eyes from her chest, but he could feel that sinful arousal rising within him. He needed to stay in control though. The Captain had said, it’s all about regaining control.

Her pants took longer to cut away, but Peter didn’t mind. Half way down her thigh, Haley stopped fighting him. She lay there, whimpering and tugging at the rope, but didn’t fight him. Peter praised her for this, telling her how helpful she was being. How kind it was of her to let him work without being a bother. With her clothes finally ripped away, Peter leaned back and took in her body as he reached for a rose.

“Did you know sunshine, that it’s been twenty years? Twenty years since that day. You know, that beating my daddy gave me? That was one of the last times I saw him. Soon as we graduated, I was gone. Maybe I should thank you, because without you I never would have been mad enough to want to leave somewhere. The Captain would have never found me!” he laughed as he slowly dragged the rose across her skin.

“Natalie. You stupid,” he slashed the rose thorns against her stomach. “Lying. Manipulative. Bitch!”

Each rose stem was slashed across her skin until nothing but red cuts covered her skin. Her screams initially hurt his ears, but as he pressed on, they started to encourage him to press harder. Peter even rolled her over so she knew what it felt like to have them digging into her back. He sat back and looked her over. The bright red was so vibrant against her pale skin. Cody wanted to take a look.

“Woah, nice one Peter!” his voice rose and became excited.

“Is this what you feel like on those weekends?” Peter asked.

“Not all the time because I don’t stay with them for long. That’s part of why the Captain says I’ve never been caught.” Cody laughed as he looked her over. “Dude, she’s hot. Too bad she was a bitch huh?”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Peter laughed, his voice back to normal. When he saw Haley looking confused again he laid down so he was face to face with her.

“That’s Cody, I told you about him. The Captain and him work together, and they are so smart! The Captain works with Maria too. He always is telling them how Rhode Island is perfect, because they are close to so many states. As long as they don’t go to the same spot twice, or the same state two times in a row, they won’t get caught! He also taught Cody how to be really stealthy and quick. No one cares when a prostitute dies, plus he’s super crafty and kills ‘em all sorts of ways.

“Maria has had five boys. The Captain says she probably won’t be able to find another one as perfect as Thomas, so maybe she should stop. He also said that one year of women for Cody is probably enough too. It’s enough time to heal he thinks. When I told him I found you, he got excited. He got to teach me things like the others! Like, I asked him what I should do once I get my power back, and you know what he said?” Haley only whimpered. “He said that you’re gonna stay with us because he has a plan! Everyone has gotten their power back. He said it’s time for a boat ride. Come on, he wants you to be at the family meeting so you know the plan too!”

Peter pushed off the ground, giving her a long look. Seeing Natalie bloody, exposed, humiliated, he definitely had his power back. He grabbed the rope and dragged her limp body out of Thomas’s room to the dining room table. He lifted her into the empty chair, and grabbing some rope from the storage compartment nearby, he tied her up.

Seven: Haley

Looking down at her body Haley silently wept. Her smooth skin was torn up, a few gashes had thorns in them that Peter had buried into her skin. She heard the chair next to her shift and turned her head slightly to find Peter, with a very stern face, sitting down next to her as he put on a worn knit cap. She looked around at the rest of the table, unsure if she was hallucinating.

Across from her was a mirror. It was a simple, plastic black mirror commonly found at a Target or Walmart. Around the base of it was a ratty blue shirt and a boys snapback hat rested on top of it. Next to that mirror was another stand mirror that was much for ornate, it looked like it had been passed down through a family for generations or found at an antique shop. An old woman’s blouse was bunched at it’s base, a large sunhat resting on it’s top. The final mirror was a simple, stainless steel stand mirror. Bunched at the bottom was what looked like a janitor’s uniform and an old baseball cap rested on top of it.

“I would like to begin by saying how proud I am off all of you.” Peter looked to each of the mirrors, his face remaining stern and unchanged. “How about we share how each of us are doing in regards to our power. Maria, I think you should begin.”

Peter got up from his chair, grabbing another older, much more worn, stand mirror from the ground and placing it where he sat. He removed his knit cap and coat, placing them on the mirror and moved around the table to the ornate woman’s mirror. Placing it on the ground he slid into the top, buttoning it quickly, adjusted the hat, and sat down.

“Well,” Maria began, “as you all know, we lost Thomas last night.” There was a pause that Haley assumed was a moment of silence. “He is in a better place now. His brothers Jacob, Aiden, Michael, Lucas, and Andrew will all look over him. I normally would return him to where I met him, but Captain, he was abandoned. I was wondering if I could keep him here with me as we went on our last boat ride. Would that be alright Captain?”

Getting out of her seat, Maria replaced the mirror, put her hat back where it had been, and removed her top, pooling it at the base of the mirror. Peter moved back around the table, donning The Captain’s shirt and hat, putting the mirror on the ground as he took his spot.

“Yes Maria, that will be acceptable. And thank you for understanding my rationale behind Thomas being your last child. If you were to get caught, the police would not understand the mission you had been sent on. They would have broken up the family.” The Captain paused, as if waiting for an actual response, before turning his attentions towards what Haley gathered must be Cody.

“Alright young sir, tell us how your project has wrapped up.” Again, he rose, replacing his mirror, shirt, and hat, before moving to the spot across from Haley.

“Uh, well, I got another homewrecking whore off the streets.” His attention flashed to Maria, and he mumbled an apology for his language before continuing. “I did everything you said. Different cities. Different states. No DNA left behind. Some I strangled, some I beat, a few I slit the throat. It just depended on my mood I guess.” Cody looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them before looking up at Haley and leaning over to The Captain.

“Can she leave? Or cover up or somethin’? She’s makin’ me feel all weird and funny. I don’t like that.” He looked to Haley like a light bulb had gone off in his head. “That’s what the whores make people feel!” Cody jumped out of his seat and charged Haley, knocking her back in her chair, his hands at her throat.

“You stupid slut! You dirty piece of shit! Fuck you! Fuck you for ruining people's lives! For taking our power! You bitch!”

Just as Haley’s eyes started to roll back in her head, Cody let go. Jumping back as if someone had pulled him by the collar of his shirt. He ran his hands over his face before turning to Peter.

“I...I’m so sorry Peter. That was your thing. She just made me so angry! You gotta do it man. You gotta end this before she takes my power too!’

Cody looked to The Captain, and then back to Peter. Smiling and nodding his head he took off his hat and shirt. Haley watched in horror as he moved to Peter’s spot at the table. Buttoning his shirt, Peter glared down at Haley shaking his head slowly back and forth.

“You stupid little bitch. Just had to go and ruin someone else’s life. Just couldn’t help yourself, tempting Cody like that.”

Haley tried to respond but her mouth was so dry from crying all those hours, her mouth just mimed the words. She pressed her eyes closed as Peter moved on top of her, straddling her chest as she remained tied to the tipped back chair. Her body shook as she silently cried when his hands circled her neck.

“Look at me,” Peter commanded. “Let me see those gorgeous brown eyes one last time.”

Peter’s eyes searched Natalie’s for what felt like hours. He wanted to memorize every inch of them. His eyes started to wander as he memorized her face. It was puffy and red from her crying, but all Peter saw was perfect Natalie lying beneath him. Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on her throat. Natalie only struggled for a short time, but she finally gave up and let herself go.

Peter’s grip didn’t loosen for nearly fifteen minutes after she was already dead. The power he felt in that moment, it was too much to let go. When The Captain told him it was time, he got off of her, and got to boat ready.

Eight: The Captain

Moving under the Jamestown Bridge, towards the Atlantic Ocean, The Captain took in the gorgeous scenery around him. The water was calm and the tree’s changing colors on the shorelines were stunning. The Captain relaxed into his chair, letting the motor quiet down and the water take him wherever it wanted. Looking over to the other chairs under the awning, Peter, Cody, and Maria were taking in the view with him. Natalie and Thomas would be joining them soon. The Captain called Peter over to him.

“Peter, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Thank you? To me? I didn’t do anything. I should be thanking you! You’re the one that helped all of us.”

“Peter, you’re kind but none of us would be here without you. Like your name, you’re the rock, the foundation. You’re what all of us were built on! If your father hadn’t left your family after his affairs, how would I have known how to help Cody? If your mother hadn’t spent her life a drinking waste after your brother died, I wouldn’t have known how to heal Maria. Peter, you are to thank for all of this.”

“But The Captain, what about you? None of us would have survived without your brilliant mind! All of our power would be lost.”

The Captain laughed and rested his hand on Peter’s head. “It’s all in here Peter, everything you ever needed to know to gain all of the power back in your life has been in here. I simply helped you and the others unlock it.

Epilogue:

Rhode Island coast guard and fire rescue responded to reports of a houseboat on fire south of the Jamestown Verrazzano Bridge. Once the fire was extinguished, crews were able to board and search the premises.

Immediately police were notified when the body of a 38 year old man, Peter Kinden, a 17 year old girl, Haley Everett who had been missing from the Bissel Cove area since Monday, and a 7 year old unidentified boy’s remains were found. The boy’s cause of death was ruled asphyxiation. The girl, Haley Everett’s cause of death was determined to be manual strangulation despite nearly 100 scratches and cuts on her body. Peter Kinden, the owner of the boats cause of death was smoke inhalation and severe burns from the fire.

On board, the following discoveries prompted federal involvement. Journals depicting the murders of twelve prostitutes across several states were found, all of the murders appeared to be from within the last year. Photo albums detailing the lives of several abducted and murdered children from the area were also found, they spanned a timeline of nearly twenty years. A detailed Captain’s log also documented the daily activities aboard the boat. A hidden compartment that was later discovered yielded large, meticulously kept Captain’s records, one for each season of the past twenty years.

After a psychologist's review of the journal it was determined that Peter Kinden suffered from Dissociative Identity Disorder. He was living with four persona’s. Peter, who was the meticulous janitor. Maria, the mother trying to save the children of the world while easing her own pain. Cody, the young boy trying to rid the world of women that were unclean. And The Captain, the mastermind, the peacekeeper, the organizer, and the planner. In the end, Peter Kinden is responsible for eighteen murders.

Let me know what you think!!

@dorky-and-i-know-it @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @jessiedangerous @little-castiel13 @jeremyrenners-supernaturalbutt @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @uttertrash--butlikecutetrash @mizzamericnpie @calicat79 @chelsea072498 @atc74 @paintrider13-blog

#not spn #murder mystery #original story #original writing

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