#this random one off mini boss always sits firmly in my head

[firebugfrenzical]

Haven't you seen?

You are made, flaws and suffering in form.

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Wait to Find the Silver Lining

PART TWELVE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: On the night of their first date, Ella and Jess end up in the emergency room.

For the first time in quite a while, Ella had the morning off, sitting with Rory and Lorelai at the diner’s counter for breakfast instead of standing on the opposite side to serve them. Mid-September, and the sun shone down on Stars Hollow warmly, but the breeze had already turned chilly. Autumn was falling on Connecticut fast. Due to shifts at the diner and the start of school, neither Jess nor Ella had been able to free up enough time for a real date. Of course, each lunch at school Jess bothered to show up to, and every shift at the diner brought them together. But Jess was anxious to truly take her out. He was partially convinced Luke had booked both of them up so much to prevent a date from ever happening, but Jess had argued with him enough to earn them both an early closing on Friday night. They were only scheduled until eight, instead of nine or ten.

Ella had begun feeling excitement and nerves well up inside her, and they only grew as the day approached. She’d assured him she would be paying for half of whatever they were doing, after the first date. She hadn’t gotten him to budge on the first date, though not for lack of trying. He wanted to show her all the upsides of dating, he’d said, like getting to go out for free. Sipping from her giant mug of tea, she felt her eyes flicking over to the checkered curtain from which Jess would appear at any moment. It was odd; she’d never had a real relationship, had never had such pleasant tension build within her.

“Hey, Stevens!” Lorelai exclaimed, breaking Ella’s reverie.

Ella blinked in surprise, exiting the cloud of her thoughts back to reality. “Sorry, sorry. What’s up?”

Lorelai snorted and rolled her eyes. “My god, you two are like puppies. Waiting to see lover boy this morning?”

Blushing, Ella let out an unconvincing scoff. “Lover boy wishes. Just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Like what your kids will look like?” Rory chimed in teasingly.

Ella groaned. “You guys keep this up, you’ll never be graced with my presence for breakfast again. And I’ll wait extra long to serve you your coffee tomorrow.”

Both Gilmore women narrowed their eyes at her.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lorelai wagered.

“Try me,” Ella said, winking and taking another sip.

Luke ambled back over, having just delivered an order to a table by the front window. He’d caught the last bit of their conversation, stance grumpy and curmudgeonly as always when he stood in front of the three of them again. “You should see those two during shifts together. It’s like I’m not even here.”

“A hostile work environment, huh?” Lorelai asked, feigning sympathy.

Again, Ella rolled her eyes. She knew neither Luke nor Lorelai had yet warmed up to the idea of the two of them being together. She knew they feared her being corrupted, but she was confident enough in the head atop her own shoulders. Matters of the heart could always be handled.  

“Yeah, whatever. You’ll be spared the agony for a couple hours tonight, though. I’ve got some stuff to pick up from my aunt in New Britain. I’ll be here around six.”

Luke nodded. “At least some semblance of peace will be restored.”

Ella gave a doubtful look. “I wouldn’t speak too soon. Jess’ll still be here, after all.”

Right on cue, Jess trudged down the stairs and emerged from the curtain, rubbing a tired eye with the palm of his hand. A smirk crossed his features at the sight of Ella, though he was acutely aware of all the others witnessing the interaction.

“Hi,” he said, nodding a little at her.

“Hi,” Ella answered, smiling shyly.

“Ah, speak of the Satan,” Lorelai said.

Jess didn’t give more than a momentary glance Lorelai’s way before going to grab a coffee to-go and a donut from under one of the glass domes.

“That’s not the saying, mom,” Rory piped up, raising an eyebrow at Lorelai.

Lorelai nodded over her coffee. “I know. But I think it fits him better. A little more umph, y’know?”

.   .   .

A rag thrown over her shoulder, Ella hummed under her breath and tried to fight the smile threatening to brighten her face. It was only seven-thirty, after all. She could wait another half hour to truly feel the excitement. Luke would surely scold her if she was too giddy as they closed up, and she wanted to get through the night without being yelled at for a lack of professionalism. The boss had been in a worse mood than usual lately, and Ella sensed it was not entirely due to her and Jess’s new relationship. Blondie lyrics flew from her mouth in a happy whisper as she stacked the chairs on the cleaned tabletops. She could hear the sloshing of water and clinking of plates from the back, Jess on dish duty. Luke was restocking some items in the back. She bounced a little on her heels as she walked, weaving through the tables. Before work, she’d been able to see her aunt, going to fetch the items she’d left over the summer but kept forgetting to pick up. It brightened her mood even more. She pushed up the sleeves of her black shirt as she kept working, smoothing her denim mini-skirt with anxious hands.

“I gotta go to Doose’s for a few things,” Luke announced as he exited the stock room. “Be back in about thirty minutes, alright?”

“Sure. I’ll manage,” Ella nodded, throwing him a good-natured smile.

Luke snorted a chuckle. “Just don’t let Jess burn the place down.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Not more than five minutes later, Ella was almost finished with the front of house work. Supplies were placed in proper cubbies behind the counter, menus were wiped off, leftover pastries put away. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she put her hands on her hips and racked her brain to make sure there was no task she had forgotten.

“Ow! Dammit!” she heard Jess exclaim from the back, hissing in pain.

Ella furrowed her brows and rushed to the back. “What’s wrong?”

He stood before the steaming vat of dishes, water tinged pink, gripping his left hand firmly in his right. Blood was leaking through his fingers and down his arms, leaving thin, reddish streaks.

“I was reaching in the dish pit and I guess I hit a rogue knife and now here we are!” Jess recounted angrily, through gritted teeth.

As Ella stepped forward, she reached for his injury and he flinched out of instinct.

“Just let me see,” she said softly, and he slowly took his right hand away.

With a gentle touch, she grabbed his left wrist and assessed the cut. There was a deep slice from the base of his pinky down halfway to his wrist. Ella knew the knife which had cut him was almost positively from the kitchen, not one of the dull patron’s utensils. Clicking her tongue in exasperation, she reached above the dish pit to grab a clean towel and pressed it to the wound. He held it there when she took her hands away.

Sighing through her nose, she took him by the shoulder and began guiding him to the front. “That’s gonna need stitches. C’mon, I came from New Britain so I’ve got my car. We’re going to the emergency room.”

Jess’s eyes widened and his pale forehead shone with a light sheen of sweat. “What? No! Let’s just wait until Luke gets back. He can use superglue or something.”

Scribbling a note on the pad from the apron she still wore, she snorted doubtfully. “Wait for Luke while you bleed out? Yeah, right. That’s a deep fucking cut, Jess. Let’s go now. He’ll see the note when he gets back and he’ll meet us there.”

“It’s not even that bad,” he argued, pressing harder on his left hand in hopes of making the bleeding stop.

She scoffed. “Okay, tough guy. Let’s just go for my own peace of mind then, alright?”

While speaking, she’d slammed the frantic note down on the counter and gone to the hanger near the door to grab her bag and keys. Inside, her heart was pounding in her chest and thumping in her ears, but she tried to exhibit outward calm. Color had drained from Jess’s face, and the redness seeped through the white towel he held to the cut.

“But what about tonight?” Jess asked after a moment, disappointment in his voice.

Ella offered a small smile, bringing a hand to his back and leading him out the door. She made sure to lock it as they rushed out. “We’ll do it next weekend, okay? I’ll enjoy dating a lot more if my date is alive.”

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled, slightly dazed as he followed her onto the sidewalk and to her car, parked right behind Luke’s truck outside the front door of the diner.

“Don’t apologize, Jess,” she said, going around to the driver’s side and unlocking it.

Before Jess could attempt to open his door, Ella ran back around and opened it for him. He nodded at her gratefully, though a blush heated up his cheeks as he sat down. As she shut her creaky driver’s side door with a slam! and started up the sputtering engine, Jess managed to click his seatbelt into its place on his own, despite Ella’s attempts to help him.

“For the record, I didn’t mean I was sorry about this,” he said, gesturing to his bloody hand. “I meant I was sorry about how much I’m gonna make fun of this car. What the hell are you doing driving a station wagon, Stevens?”

She laughed as she pulled away from Luke’s, doing her best to remain under the speed limit and not run the stop signs.

.   .   .

Ammonia and disinfectant burned her nostrils, and she had to blink back the wateriness in her eyes. The walls of the small hospital room were a blinding white, and the flickering of the fluorescent lights was almost nauseating. But Ella kept a calm tone as she ran her hand up and down over Jess’s back, sitting next to him on the exam table, which was covered with crinkling white paper.

The nurse cleaned out Jess’s cut with freezing cold water, and Jess tried his best to not let the pain cross his features. Instead, he listened to Ella, distracting him with random rankings of songs. He disagreed with her judgement frequently, starting weak but playful arguments. When the cut was cleaned, the nurse, a man with a tired face and kind blue eyes, set Jess’s hand palm-up on a small silver table before them, sterile tools set around it. The nurse interrupted their conversation when he brought out a syringe, and explained he would have to give Jess shots inside the cut in order to numb it before sewing it up. Jess nodded, gulping as he straightened up slightly and prepared himself. He blew out a long breath and his face paled even more.

Ella, sitting to his right, grabbed his uninjured hand and squeezed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured her, trying to hide his grimace at the thought of what was about to happen. “I just...I don’t like needles.”

“Oh. Well, don’t look at it,” Ella said, trying to calm him as she glanced down at his hand, into which the nurse was about to stick the syringe filled with a numbing agent. “I guess that means matching tattoos are out of the question, huh?”

“I’d say so,” he replied, chuckling.

“Damn,” she shook her head, teasing. “I guess I won’t end up with Jack Nicholson’s face on my ass after all.”

Jess grunted a little and squeezed her hand tighter as the nurse gave him the first shot. Using her free hand to rub circles over his back again, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek to reassure him. In spite of himself, Jess couldn’t help but lean into her touch.

.   .   .

The process was painful but quick, and Ella managed to keep Jess’s muted laughter going through the whole thing. Jess didn’t think it was possible to smile with a curved needle stitching up his flesh. And while the numbing had been upsetting in its own way, he could barely feel the actual sewing. Ella’s thin hand drew rhythmic circles on his back, and the nurse was just snipping up the thread by the time Luke ran into the room. Other than his baseball cap sitting slightly askew and the frantic look in his eyes, he’d maintained his gruff, stoic mask.

“Nice of you to show, Uncle Luke,” Jess drawled flatly, the nurse winding white gauze around his hand.

Luke frowned at him, and was about to retort, but the nurse piped in to instruct Jess not to get the wound wet and to come back in a few days to get the stitches pulled out. Nodding in thanks and understanding, Jess told the man he was good to go. Then, there were three. And Luke stood with his hands on his hips and stared the two of them down. Even after a few weeks, it was still unnerving to see their hands clasped together.

Sighing through his nose, Luke cleared his throat and tried to keep calm. “Why didn’t you come over and get me before driving all the way out here?”

“I didn’t want Jess to die inside the diner. I hear it brings down retail costs,” she said defensively.

Jess snorted.

Luke rolled his eyes but nodded, could see the panic still painted on her face. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped towards them. There was a long, awkward silence before he finally spoke. “Alright. I’m sorry. Thanks for...driving.”

Ella nodded in earnest. “You’re welcome.”

“But you can go home, alright? I still have some paperwork and stuff to fill out,” Luke said tiredly.

Nodding again, Ella cast a glance at Jess. He flexed his injured hand once or twice, testing it out.

“Don’t worry, Stevens. I’m good,” he said, catching the worry in her face. “At least I’ll get off dish pit for a little while.”

“That’s true,” she said. “Wait to find the silver lining, Mr. Sunshine.”

Jess scoffed. “Whatever, Daria.”

“Ugh, it’s sickening,” Luke groaned, rolling his eyes at the interaction.

Ella snickered, shaking her head slightly as she stood up. “I’ll see you later, Mariano.”

“Seems that way. Just drive a little slower on the way home, huh?” he scolded, looking over to speak to Luke. “Speed Racer over here couldn’t stay less than twenty over the limit.”

“Traitor,” she shot back, smirking. “You should get them to give you a sticker, kid. You were very brave.”

Jess feigned a glare and was about to retort, but she pecked his lips instead and gave his shoulder a final squeeze. Ella grabbed her bag and made for the hallway.

As she passed Luke, she gave a joking salute. “Happy to be of service, boss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow morning, okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

.   .   .

Her shift, a double, passed little by little. The hands of her watch seemed to slow down each time she took a peek, torturous, glacial ticking. Luke had his hands full with Caesar at a doctor’s appointment in the morning and Jess with the day off. The extra work helped the day go by, if nothing else. She’d asked after Jess, and Luke said only that he was out. It made Ella all but laugh, biting back a smirk as she thought of Jess rushing out in the morning with a Walmart vest hidden somewhere on his person. Shangri-la, indeed. She knew he had to be back at some point, though, and had asked to help close, get a little overtime. Luke never refused her for overtime. Especially not after the period following her mother’s death when the diner’s leftovers had been pretty much the only thing keeping her household afloat.

On her lunch break, she’d skipped the meal and instead made trips to both the video store and the makeshift movie house. Kirk somehow was in charge of both places for the day, and it had taken almost all of her patience to negotiate favors with him. She’d promised to make three of her rhubarb pies for the diner the next weekend. Everyone in town hated rhubarb except Kirk.

The evening brought rain, and it made Ella feel cozy as she closed up the diner. Luke was back dealing with the dishes, what with Jess down for the count. Caesar hummed some eighties song while he cleaned the kitchen, but somehow managed to leave early despite the time and energy his closing dance moves took up. Ella was almost finished with everything, nothing left but to sweep up, by nine. She was almost worried Jess wouldn’t return and her plan would fall through, but he ran over from the bus stop at five past nine. His leather jacket was slick with rainwater and his hair was dripping, but his stitched hand was dry in his pocket and he still cracked a smile when he saw Ella.

“You should buy an umbrella,” she said, scrunching up her nose as she ran a hand through his wet locks.

Jess only shrugged. “I like to live dangerously.”

“I’ve noticed. How’s your hand?” she asked, resuming her work on the floor while Jess took a seat at a stool by the counter.

Again, the nonchalant shrug. “Won’t be modelling bracelets any time soon, but I’ll live.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said, then went over and placed the broom in the corner near the stockroom where it belonged. She couldn’t hide her smile; she loved both giving and receiving surprises. “So. Got any plans tonight?”

“Thought I’d crack the books,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Geometry, American History, really work on that ol’ GPA.”

Ella rolled her eyes, then came over in front of him. He laced his arms around her waist. With the customers all gone, Ella felt more comfortable with PDA. “Be careful, one of these days someone’s gonna take you seriously and you’ll have to make good on your word.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime,” she quipped. “Anyway, I thought we should do our ‘official date’ tonight, instead of next weekend.”

Jess rolled his eyes at her air-quotes, and sighed through his nose. “It’s past nine in Stars Hollow. Nothing’s open.”

She feigned deep thought. “I think ‘nothing’ is far too absolute a term. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, would I?” he teased, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Mariano, I think you would.”

.   .   .

Hands entwined, Jess and Ella ran down Main Street towards the movie house, only partially shielded by store awnings. She had refused to tell him exactly what was going on, only that he better be hungry for popcorn. By the time they made it in through the front door, Ella’s long hair, tied half-up, half-down, was frizzy and damp. But her cheeks were rosy and her smile was wide. The night had cooled down, and the heat in the movie house was welcome. Immediately, she shed her coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Jess followed, then trailed behind her as she made her way over to the ancient popcorn machine. There was one solitary bucket, kept warm in the center. Kirk stood beside it, looking stoic with his work vest, hands clasped in front of each other.

“Evening, patrons,” he said in a clipped tone, handing her the bucket.

Ella nodded, smirking. “Evening, Kirk. You can call us by our names.”

Kirk shook his head slightly, refusing to make direct eye contact. “Professionalism is always a top priority at the Stars Hollow Movie House, ma’am.”

“This isn’t even a real movie house and I bribed you with pie to do this showing,” Ella retorted.

Jess scoffed, smirking widely.

Sighing, Kirk finally met her eyes and his shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Ella, I’m an employee. I take all my jobs very seriously. I’m asking you to respect that.”

She bit back her smile and raised a hand in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. You’ll have your pie by next weekend.”

Kirk swallowed dryly, then returned to his solemn stance, offering nothing more. Jess cast Ella a suspicious glance, but she only took his uninjured hand again and led him to the red couch at the front of the room, nearest the projector screen. As soon as they sat down, the lights dimmed and they could hear Kirk booting up the projector.

“You paid him in pie?” he asked.

“It’s the universal currency.”

“I was gonna pay for our first date,” he argued, pouting slightly.

She shrugged. “Well, you can’t always get what you want, as the Stones would say.”

“Next time?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Jess, if it’ll make you happy. Next time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, jackass,” she replied, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness.

He let his eyes roam over the movie house, a place he didn’t remember ever stepping foot in. Dusty bookshelves flanked either side of the large screen. The air smelled like old, weathered pages and the buttery popcorn in the bucket at Ella’s side. Jess wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear the heavy rain on the tin roof above. He wondered what the building had originally functioned as, considering it looked just like a suburban cottage. Ella’s hand in his, he felt almost comfortable enough to fall asleep on the huge red couch, despite his excited nerves and wet hair and bandaged hand.

“Okay, Stevens, the suspense is killing me,” Jess said after a pause, gesturing to the screen.

A mischievous grin crossed her face and she planted a kiss on his cold cheek.

“Since last night you had a fight with a knife, not to be confused with a knife fight,” she teased, ignoring the playful nudge Jess gave her with his elbow, “I figured having a private screening of one of Cameron Crowe’s masterpieces might make you feel better.”

Almost rendered speechless for a moment, Jess felt his heart flutter in his chest. A small, sincere smile crossed his face. “Well, Almost Famous is the best medicine for pretty much every ailment.”

She nodded, conspiratorial. “I whole-heartedly agree. It’s second only to Stephen King.”

Jess sighed through his nose, shaking his head. “You were so close to sounding refined.”

She snorted. “Hypocrite.”

As the bluish light of the projection came on the screen, the familiar music started and warmed Jess’s heart more than he would ever outwardly admit. They faced the movie, and spoke in hushed tones. He hoped the darkness would conceal his blush.

“Thank you, Eleanor, you didn’t have to do this,” he said, almost shyly.

“I wanted to.”

He looked over at her, and could see the image reflected in her hazel eyes. Bringing a hand to her cheek, gently turning her head, he pressed his lips to hers and smiled into the kiss.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

Lips (16/16)

prologue

cotton, wind, blow, blouse.

hair, flower, aroma, scent.

cold, eyes, ice, dive.

touch, warm, melt, lips.

epilogue.

-

After months of planning and coordinating with the wedding planner, the day you and Taeyong become one in marriage draws closer.

In two days, to be exact.

But your mother, firmly believing in every known wedding superstitions, insisted on making sure neither of you see each other a day before the wedding. So tomorrow, you’ll be staying at a hotel with your bridesmaids and parents while Taeyong and his groomsmen will be at beach resort with the small chapel where the wedding and reception will be held.

You stare into space, seated at the edge of the bed, and countdown the hours until your best friend picks you up to bring you to the hotel. You realize that the next time you see Taeyong, he’ll be minutes away from being your husband.

The thought makes you nervous and giddy; the butterflies breaking loose in your stomach whenever you are reminded that in a few days, you’ll be Mrs. Lee [Y/N]. It makes you imagine that in a few years time, you and Taeyong would be taking care of mini versions of you and him.

“What are you smiling at?” Taeyong breaks you out of your reverie, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed and wrapping an arm around waist.

“Nothing. Are you done working?” You lean into him, cuddling up to his side.

“I wish. I still have a lot to do. What time are they picking you up?” You don’t miss the frown with his question. He wasn’t happy with your mom’s decision, but he wouldn’t dare go against her.

You glance at the alarm clock that read ‘10:48 AM’ on the bed stand, “Later tonight. Around 8?” You look back at him and pout, staring at his lips until you get an idea. You peck him once, twice, thrice, and a fourth time until he pulls away with a giggle.

“Okay, stop, I have a lot to finish so I don’t have to worry about work during the honeymoon.” He rubs your back and squeezes your thigh. He had woken up early today to start on it and plans to be finished by midnight.

“Aww, no more honeymoon rehearsals?” You tease, jutting your lower lip out at him.

He shortly laughs, cheeks glowing red. “I think we’ve had plenty of practice for that.”

“Fine. I have some work to finish as well anyways.”

After sharing one last kiss, he makes his way back to his makeshift workstation AKA the living room while you grabbed your laptop and laid on your front to type out your reports. It had been an agonizing hour and a half before you feel the low grumble of your stomach and decide to heat up some leftovers for you and Taeyong to feast on for lunch.

The meal didn’t last long as you had expected, it was peacefully silent between you two aside from the comments of how the food tasted and some random inquiries about the wedding. When both of you finished eating, he volunteered to clean up but you hush him and push him back to his work, knowing he had a lot more to do in comparison to yours.

You return to your own workspace and continue your report, standing up to stretch or go out of the room for a bathroom or snack break from time to time. Your back was aching from the multiple positions you tried to work in with your laptop that put kama sutra to shame. It was almost six in the evening when you finally emailed the reports to your boss and your eyes were tired and heavy. Closing your laptop and grabbing the blanket below you, you trod into the living room.

“Taeyong.” You quietly call out to him. He looks up at you and you can see that he was just as tired as you were.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just finished my work. You?”

He sighs, running his hand over his face. “Almost there, but not quite. I’ll probably be able to send it before midnight.”

You walk up to him on the couch and gently nudge him back, sitting on his lap when he leans against the pillows. You wrap the blanket around your bodies and cuddle him, “I think you deserve a short break and I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Taeyong envelopes you in his arms, propping his cheek on your head. “Will you be eating dinner at the hotel when you get there or do you wanna eat here?”

“I’ll eat dinner with you but I want to cuddle first.” You mumble against his neck and he hums, combing your hair with his fingers.

It suddenly feels like your catapulted back 7 years ago when you and Taeyong had just started dating. When times together meant casual conversations, shy skinship, and quick kisses. At the thought, you move your head upwards to kiss his jaw.

He hums again, pleasantly. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

“I do, in fact, I was just thinking about it.”

“Really?” He pauses to look at you, thoughtfully, “Well, I don’t think I have ever told you how much I love your lips.”

You smile, “No, you haven’t.”

“When I first kissed you, they were so soft--and they still are! But, I had this impression that lips would feel different.” He says in a low voice, almost whispering, “Like, it’s different when I feel it with my fingers,” His thumb runs along your lower lip, “than how it feels when our lips touch--”

And he kisses you, chastely, just like the first months of your relationship. It takes a few more kisses before he sighs, rubbing his temple against yours like a cat, and says, “We’ve come so far. I still wake up sometimes in disbelief that you’re mine.”

“Save the vows for the wedding, Taeyong.” You softly chuckle, raising a hand to his face to stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I’ll be able to see you in white again.” He playfully reminds you of how you swore off wearing white because you always ended up getting doused in some sort of liquid and exposing your brassiere beneath it.

You laugh, lightly pinching his cheek that elicits a laugh from him as well.

Up until the time you two finally break off from each other to get dinner ready and have him see you off, you reminisced random events in your relationships; poking fun at all the petty fights, laughing at the inside jokes you’ve accumulated all throughout the years, and tearing up at the not-so-good times.

Taeyong pauses to look at you and places one more kiss on your lips.

Because after tomorrow, he’d be able to call you his wife.

-

a/n:  i wasn’t supposed to post this today because i was just so tired but i just wanted to finish this series as soon as possible so i can work on the others

and yes there is an epilogue, a short one.

to all those new followers, this is still actually open  (u kno if anyone else is interested in getting to know me)

let’s be friends on twitter? @ohyesjaehyun

[sugasgrowl]

Blood and Mercy

Member: Yoongi x Jin x Reader

Genre: gang au

Warnings: violence, gore, major character death, guns, alcohol, swearing

Word Count: 3613

Summary: There is a rat in Bangtan, but you’re going to fight for mercy.

Sequel: Red and Dead

HI WOW IM SO EMOTIONALLY DRAINED AFTER WRITING THIS. This one shot is based off of my great friend, @papa-seokjin‘s, fic called Tenacious. He and I talk about that universe way too often and this stemmed from a random conversation about who we thought would be the rat in the gang of Bangtan. Anyway, I’m fucked up. Enjoy.

“You’re a fucking liar!” you roared.

Your palms stung from the impact of slamming them against the table. The stone of a heart that resided in your chest felt as if it fell to your feet. Your entire body vibrated with the refusal to believe the utter bullshit that had just spewed from Min Yoongi’s mouth.

He was lying. He had to be lying. There was no way in hell that it could be true.

But the glowering scowl that twisted your leader’s face said that it was the truth. He was the last person you had ever imagined would betray the team. Who would betray you.

“I wish I was,” Yoongi grumbled, lithe frame leaned up against the mini bar in the corner of the room. At his side, knobby hands were white-knuckling a bottle of whiskey. Boss clearly wasn’t handling the news too well, either.

Though your face was pinched in anger, your legs began to tremble underneath you. There was a slight sting behind your eyes. Great, now your body was betraying you, too.

“What...what will we do with him?” you asked, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

You knew the answer before it left his lips.

“Rats get exterminated.”

You didn’t need to ask Yoongi to know what he had in mind, but having confirmation of the inevitable made you feel nauseated.

“No,” you croaked.

“Yes,” he hissed, taking a loping step forward so that he was almost nose to nose with you. “You think I’m not fucked up about this, too? He’s my friend. He was my friend long before you met him.”

If you had full control of your vocal cords, you would have told him that that didn’t matter in the slightest and he knew it. Yoongi may have known him longer, but you had loved him. You shared a bed with him. You knew him inside and out.

Traitor or not, you couldn’t let him kill Seokjin.

“Don’t you dare touch him, Yoongi,” you whispered.

The leader tilted his head back and laughed. Laughed long and hard enough to make your skin crawl and your eyes drop to the scuffed floor. As if he had just heard the best joke. Tears welling up in your eyes blurred Yoongi’s cackling face into a twisted smear of a monster.

“Jin has been leaking our plans to the fucking cops. He was helping plan our downfall. He wants us locked away,” Yoongi took another violent pull from the half empty bottle of whiskey. He cocked his head to the side, face twisting at the acidic burn of the alcohol.

“Do you not think,” he wiped his mouth on the back of his veiny hand, “that he deserves to be punished?”

“Well, yes, but -”

“He’s been working for them for over a year,” the older man spoke over you. “He was working for them while he was taking you on priceless vacations and fucking your brains out.”

If Yoongi hadn’t been practically holding you upright, you probably would have collapsed then and there.

“Face it, babe,” he chuckled, “Jin has ruined his credibility in our world. He’s as good as dead anyway with as many other gangs as we work with. They’ll be lining up at our doorstep to get their hands on him to see what he ratted them out for, too.”

Your lip curled into a snarl, and you sent him stumbling back with a hard shove to his chest. How dare he speak of Jin that way?

“I won’t let you lay a fucking hand on him,” you spat.

Yoongi smiled at you poisonously. Before you could blink, he had you pinned against the wall - forearm nearly crushing your windpipe. You let out an involuntary squeak as the back of your head slammed into the wall.

The pressure on your windpipe increased as you struggled against his hold.

“Get the fuck off me!” you rasped, fingers clawing at his flesh. Black irises locked with yours as your legs kicked at Yoongi’s shins. He grimaced in pain, and in the time it took you to realize what was happening, a radiating sting spread through the side of your face and across your tongue. You tasted the faint tang of blood.

“Since you’re so protective, why don’t you ensure he gets a quick death, huh?” he seethed. He had your chin trapped between his thumb and forefinger. You could taste the whiskey on his breath as it fanned across your cheeks.

“Yoongi,” you almost soundlessly wheezed, “‘m...gonna fuckin’ kill you -”

“Because if I get my hands on that traitor before you do, honey,” his tongue flickered out to wet the wolfish, gleeful hint of a smile ghosting on his lips, “he’s gonna wish he had an angel like you to end it for him.”

“Get the fuck off!”

And just like that, you could breathe again. You coughed and sputtered, knees going to rubber and sending you tumbling into the floor. Through the white stars throbbing behind your eyelids from lack of oxygen, you could just make out Yoongi stalking off in the direction of Jin’s bedroom.

You scrambled to right yourself. No, no, no, no.

In your time as a member of Bangtan, you had seen Yoongi do a lot of horrific things. You’d seen him torture men for days on end, dragging it out as long as possible until they were begging for death. You’d seen him bash a man’s head in with the butt of a gun until it was the equivalent of hamburger meat. You’d witnessed him do a lot of fucked up shit, but he’d always been loving to his men.

And now he was about to kill one of his best friends.

“Yoongi, please!” you called into the dark house, praying that you didn’t trip over anything as you sprinted through the blackness.

You heard the unmistakable crack of Yoongi’s boot kicking open the bedroom door. Your heart flopped against your ribs.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi bellowed. “Wake up and help me take out the trash!”

The younger man stumbled out of his room to see their leader dragging a shirtless and half asleep Seokjin into the hallway by his hair. His pained yelps of protest and confusion echoed throughout the old house.

“We’re doing this...right now?” Hoseok hesitantly asked, barely audible over the sound of Jin spouting off every swear word known to man.

In one swift movement, Yoongi had Jin’s arm pinned behind his back and a switchblade lightly pressed to the column of his throat.

“No time like the present, brother!” he nearly sang.

He forcibly yanked the traitor’s head back until it was almost resting between his shoulder blades. The blade glinted maliciously as it kissed his bronze skin.

“The fuck is this, Yoongi?” Jin hissed as Hoseok’s deft fingers bound his wrists behind his back with rope that he seemingly pulled out of thin air.

“How fuckin’ stupid do you think I am?” Yoongi asked. His voice was low but ice cold. Realization flickered across Jin’s face, fear quickly flooding in its place.

“Yoongi, I can explain -” he was cut off with a swift punch to the mouth.

He staggered in Yoongi’s hold, a moan of pain escaping his lips. In front of him, Hoseok shook out his hand - a tightness playing behind his eyes.

“Sorry, hyung,” he muttered.

Your insides were ice cold. Much, much too cold. You’d watched them commit - and helped take part in - many murders. Even tortures, if it was for the sake of the gang. You knew what was to come, you knew that they would hurt Jin. But seeing it with your own two eyes was different.

“Yoongi, please just fucking listen to me -”

“Would you just shut the fuck up?” he yelled. His black eyes were hot coals burning into you. “Hoseok, help me get him to The Interviewing Room.”

It was as if Jin was just realizing that you were there. His dark eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by Hoseok’s fists once again. Two hits to the face, one hit to the diaphragm. The man folded like a card table with a rattling wheeze, broad shoulders curling in on themselves. In the dim lighting of the hallway you could just make out a smear of bloody drool on his chin.

As he leaned forward to catch his breath, Yoongi and Hoseok each grabbed him and dragged him towards the emptied out work room.

You followed them mindlessly, like you were caught in a dream. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. You were actually all out in the yard playing baseball together. Jungkook was showing off as per usual. Jimin was droning on and on about the effectiveness of a bat as a weapon. There was no way that this, Jin being dragged off to his murder, was reality.

The lights of The Interviewing Room flickered on and cast a sickly, yellowish, washed out glow to everything. There was a singular metal chair ominously sitting in the middle of the room - waiting for the next poor soul who would be tied down and fucked up. Silver instruments of torture were spread out neatly across the dresser top and gleaming monstrously in the corner of your eye.

Jin sat half slumped in the chair, still trying to catch his breath. Excluding his ragged breathing, he was quiet. Yoongi stood in front of him with crossed arms - switchblade firmly grasped in his sure fingers.

“You’ve been a part of Bangtan for so many years,” he crouched down to be at eye level. “Why rat on us now? After all this time?”

“I wish I could say it was because I wanted to save people from falling victim to your short fuse,” Jin locked eyes with him, “but that would be a lie.”

“Why?” Yoongi spat.

“The authorities almost had enough evidence on you to shut it all down. They offered me a deal. Said if I helped them out, I could get my sentence shortened.”

Yoongi nodded wordlessly and calmly slid the leather jacket off his shoulders before tossing it to Hoseok. Only a moment ticked by before he tipped the chair back with a harsh kick. It landed so explosively that it made you jump and your teeth grind together. Jin grunted as he fell backward, unable to stop the fall due to his bound hands and feet. Yoongi crouched over him, eyes scanning the bruised man’s face, before he let out a chuckle.

Your palms started to sweat.

The sudden sound of knuckles crunching into a perfectly straight nose made your stomach turn. Jin gasped and sputtered, sending a spray of blood to stain Yoongi’s white shirt. He coughed violently, choking on the blood dripping from his nose and down the back of his throat. His nose bent at an odd angle, the imperfection looking out of place on his handsome face.

“You were supposed to be one of my most loyal men,” Yoongi tsked. “I let you into my home, I fed you and clothed you. Hell, I made you! You were just an accountant before you joined Bangtan. I made you great, and this is how you repay me?”

He let out a dramatic sigh as he pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans. Jin blearily struggled to focus on what was being held before his eyes.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi gritted out as he brought the butt of the gun down onto Jin’s chiseled cheekbone. His eyelids drooped as he fought to stay conscious. The fresh gash from being pistol-whipped sent crimson dribbling down his cheek. “You wanna act like an enemy, we’ll treat you like an enemy,” the blue haired man patted him on the side of the face. “Here, sit him up again.”

Watching him get the shit beat out of him felt like you were the one strapped in that god forsaken chair. You could withstand a lot. But this was too much.

You weren’t sure at what point you tackled Yoongi and ended up splayed out on the tiled floor, breath stolen from your lungs, with him looming over you - a menacing sneer on his face. Although it probably happened right around the moment Jin started whimpering and crying out in pain. Had you taken a moment to plan your attack instead of acting out of rage, you might not look near as foolish as you did then.

“What are you doing?”

“Th-that’s enough, Yoongi,” you panted. “He gets the idea, alright? He fucked up.”

“Hoseok,” a bubble of bloody film burst between his swollen lips. The copious amounts of blood pouring from Jin’s nose made him sound like he had a cold. “Get her out of here. She shouldn’t see this.”

You could barely understand him.

“No!” you snapped when Hoseok took a cautious step in your direction. “Jin, shut the fuck up. Yoongi, please don’t do this,” you knew you sounded desperate, but you really didn’t care. “This is Jin that you’re hurting.”

“This is not the Kim Seokjin that I know. This is a rat.”

You clambered to your feet.

“You may be his leader, but you’re also his friend.”

There was a beat or two of silence before Yoongi’s lips pulled into a subtle smirk. A chilling sign of what was going through his mind. He took a leisurely step towards the array of tools sprawled out across the dresser.

“Not anymore,” he smiled as he wrapped his pale fingers around the handle of a hammer. “Hoseok, do you think we should start with his fingers? Or his -”

He was cut off with a wheeze as you wrapped your arms around his neck in a suffocating embrace from behind. The hammer fell to the tiled floor with a deafening clang, Yoongi’s fingers loosening and busying themselves with clawing at your skin. Strangled swears and insults vibrated against the skin of his throat.

Hoseok watched in horror from the other side of the room, his fingers twitching towards the holster under his arm.

“Touch the gun and I’ll kill both of you.”

Hoseok dropped his hands. You knew he had a strict code for himself. Thou shalt not hurt women or children.

“Yoongi,” you rasped in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m not going to point my gun at you because I don’t want to kill you. I just need you to listen -”

He cut you off by stumbling backwards and slamming your body into the wall. The brief moment that your concentration was compromised, you caught en elbow to the solar plexus. Your vision tinged with white as all the air was stolen from your lungs. You fought the urge to let your guard down and blindly threw a punch in hopes of making contact. You felt the distinct sensation of your knuckles smashing into something that felt eerily like teeth.

Your vision came back with a few hard blinks of your eyes.

“Fuck!” Yoongi swore with a shaky laugh as he dabbed at the bloody cut on his lip. He grimaced at the sight of bright crimson smeared across his fingertips. He laughed heartily, bloody teeth baring themselves in horrific joy. “You’re a persistent bitch, aren’t you!”

You blinked and he was on you, all five foot nine inches of raw power tackling you to the ground with a maniacal growl. Pain radiated through your elbow and tailbone from the impact, and the cold tiles bit into your skin as he did his best to hold you down. His pale arm stretched across the tiles to reach for the fallen hammer, the handle just out of his reach.

With a burst of strength, you threw him off of you and managed to reverse your positions. His thin frame writhed underneath you in an attempt to escape. Yoongi was faster in combat, but you were heavier, and you used it to your advantage. You grabbed him by his shirtfront and used your knees to pin his arms down by his sides.

“What, you gonna kill me for planning to drain your traitor of an ex boyfriend’s blood like the pig he is?” Yoongi taunted, voice rough from exertion.

A fierce cry permeated the air as your fist made contact with his nose, the cartilage giving way with a ghastly crunch. His black eyes widened in shock at the feeling of hot blood pouring out of his nose and into his mouth. He licked his lips nervously at the sight of the blade of your freshly unsheathed knife. You traced the cold metal across his cheekbone, pridefully taking in the way he tried to follow the motion out of the corner of his eye. He tried to fight the shudder rippling through him at the feeling of you pressing the edge into the shell of his ear, a tiny bead of blood raising to the surface.

“If someone is killing him, it will be me.”

Yoongi opened his mouth in protest, but closed it quickly when you pressed your knife harder against his ear ever so slightly.

“I will kill him. I loved him. I will kill him, but you will not torture him. You will not hurt him anymore. It is still Jin. He doesn’t deserve torture, Yoongi, he’s a traitor but he deserves a more honorable death than that,” you could have sworn you heard Jin gasp, but you couldn’t be sure. “If you want to try to stop me, I’ll kill you. I’ll fight you again and I will fucking win again, because you’re not going to lay a fucking hand on him.”

His bruising eyes locked with yours, and his bleeding lips twisted into a scowl as he silently agreed.

When you forced your aching body to stand, Hoseok scurried from the other side of the room to help Yoongi up as well. You locked eyes with your leader and continued to glare at him, knife glinting with his blood under the fluorescent lights, until they closed the door behind them.

The room was silent for a moment, save for the hiss of you wiping your blade clean on your jeans.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Jin softly said from behind you. “You know I...I love you all.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, stomach twisting for a multitude of reasons.

“I know.”

You forced yourself to face him, regret immediately filling you. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding all over his naked chest. He was almost unrecognizable. Almost. Even under all the swelling and drying blood, there was something so undeniably handsome and so very Jin about his appearance, and it made your throat tighten.

“How do I look?” he almost teasingly asked. Leave it to Jin to joke until his last breath.

“Never looked better.”

“Yeah, well,” he smiled sadly, matted and bloody black hair falling into his eyes, “that won’t last long. I’m guessing I’ll have to have most of my skull intact to have an open casket funeral.”

You grimaced, “Don’t say shit like that.”

His brows furrowed.

“Why not? I’m accepting death. You’re about to put a bullet in my brain because I’m a snake who betrayed Bangtan.”

You placed your hands on the armrests of his chair and stooped down to his level, a slight snarl etched into your face.

“No, I’m about to put a bullet in your brain because I couldn’t watch Yoongi gut you like a fish,” you gritted out, ignoring the burn behind your eyes.

After a moment of tense silence, you sighed.

“It hurt too much to see you in pain, okay?”

“But it didn’t when you left me?”

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t need the image of his dejected face as you ended things with him six months ago floating through your mind right now.

“You know I didn’t want to -”

“Then why did you?” he raised his voice.

You rubbed your hands over your face. Work had always been your priority, and loving Jin put him before all else. Bangtan was on the backburner, and your possible future with Jin was constantly in the forefront of your mind.

“I lost myself when I was with you. Work wasn’t at the top of my list anymore.”

“Was that really a bad thing?” he asked. “We could have run away. You’re a smart and strong woman, you could have worked wherever you wanted. Hell, I made enough money with my side job to keep us living great lives.”

“Jin, please don’t -”

“We could have had everything,” he mumbled under his breath.

Wordlessly, you caressed his bruised jaw with your thumb. His dark eyes lifted to meet yours as he leaned into your touch, and you gave him a watery smile. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to his in one final kiss.

His lips were swollen and clumsy, and his tongue tasted metallic and bloody. Even through the gore, he still tasted like Jin. Sweet with the faintest hint of nicotine.

You pulled away and cleared your throat before the tightness in your chest consumed you.

The gun felt too cold and too heavy in your sweaty palm as you pressed it to his forehead. Your whole body was trembling.

“Just do it, baby. It’s okay.”

Your heart lurched at his words, and your fingers shook as you pulled back the hammer.

“I forgive you,” he whispered, brown eyes meeting yours over the barrel of the gun. “For everything.”

“I love you so much, and I always will.”

You pulled the trigger, and he slumped over in his seat.

Everything was red.

[energonalucard]

Story of a Lost A.I.

Scene 1 - 3: HERE                                                                Scene 4 - 6: Coming Soon

Rating: Teen / PG

Warnings: Violence (certainly) and Character Death (minor)

Fandom: Brave Police J-Decker

Characters: Duke, Gunmax, Drillboy, Power Joe, Dumpson, McCrane, Tomonaga Yuuta, Tomonaga Azuki, Tomonaga Kurumi, Deckerd, Shadowmaru, Regina Argine

Genre: Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Family.

Summary: Deckerd is still gone after the Chieftains beat the Braves. Regina and Duke’s arrival was not a welcome one, either. Even if Duke hides behind Regina's training to be "the perfect policeman," he can still feel the hate in his team towards him. But one day, it'll be too late to save Duke. And Gunmax can't help but sneak around since Shadowmaru is still hurt.

Scene I : Discomforts and Double Edged Swords

Gunmax mentally sighed as the normal activities of the Command room played out like any Sunday. Power Joe and Dumpson arm wrestled and McCrane polished his rifle as he growled every time Power Joe got his arm slammed down harder each time he lost, which was a lot. Drillboy sat on his small desk and bounced a soccer ball with either his hands or with his foot on the floor and he would eventually try basketball finger-spinning his soccer ball on his feet and just watched it spin. He saw Yuuta with his head down on his desk that over looked the room on the humans balcony.

Poor mini boss. Not a a day or two ago did they lose Deckerd to the Chieftain twins. Those two fuel snatching fakers decided to drag themselves out of whatever hole they thrived from and go on a killing spree for J-Decker. They had attacked Shadowmaru and almost killed him if it hadn’t been for Seia (she runs the Navy, apparently) saving him from bleeding to death in the ocean. Shadowmaru would have drowned in the ocean and drained of all his special oil in the salty water, slowly sinking to the abyss of the reef. And they had the nerve to kick Gunmax’s aft too when he got to the scene! It was frustrating! He barely got to the fight and even then, his bike was so bad, he thought about just running there if it hadn’t been for the fact he couldn’t move much.

And then their was Deckerd’s murder…!

No. Gunmax didn’t go there. He wasn’t going to bring it up, he was to fond of Deckerd to get mad at his death. Gunmax had a respect for the blue cop car ever since Deckerd had hand cuff themselves together… Long story; involving Gunmax being framed for a previous partners crimes, Gunmax’s mood swings and constant disappearing (he was just driving laps around the city), and Deckerd being one of the only ones to truly believe in Gunmax’s innocence (everyone was spectacle, okay?) and Deckerd smacked cuffs on him. When they were in that forest… they became… friends? Brothers by oil barrel? It was fun tricking that hillbilly old man that they were “confiscating” his oil for tampering in supplies at “the factory”! Good times…

And now, those Chieftain give Gunmax the worst feeling in his… everything. From his pede, through his body, in his tanks, in his neck cables, and to his Super A.I..Gunmax still couldn’t believe moral was so low… in the board room, it actually looked like a normal Sunday night.

Dumpson and Power Joe actually being entertaining (to themselves mostly), McCrane polishing that old rifle of his, Yuuta sulking because he had school tomorrow, Shadowmaru off doing whatever-it-is he does, and Duke on last night patrol. But it couldn’t be more difficult. He knew Dumpson and Power Joe were venting under hushed breaths as they wrestled, McCrane was polishing a deadly weapon (focusing on nothing but the deadly weapon), Yuuta was mourning for Deckerds death, Drillboy wasn’t enjoying anything his mostly prized soccer ball could give, Shadowmaru was still in a dead sleep while the engineers fixed him up, and Deckerd was under the control of that stupid eye rock alien that had a metal fetish! 

... Another long story…

Gunmax stopped staring at everyone when McCrane glared at him and McCrane himself stopped polishing that metal and wooden stick to reload the rounds within the barrel. 

'Good, why not go to the shooting range next?' Gunmax groaned in his head as McCrane swiveled his chair.

Just as he was about to get up and leave, the newcomer and self-proclaimed “leader” of the Brave Police, Duke “Knight” came walking in with all his glory. If your wondering how the Brave Police got an ambulance on their team (an ambulance knight, no less) then listen close. Not barely thirty seconds after Deckerd died, a pristine and curvy ambulance pulled up and a blonde lady with a black body suit and a tiny red shirt over the suit got out of it and helped them chase off the Chieftains.

The ambulance was very attractive he must say but the moment he was sitting in Deckerd’s seat and telling them it was a simple “leaders” seat made him even more alluring. He kinda liked this mechas' moxy.

When Duke walked in, the room went cold and silent. He went straight for the fire truck in the back of the room but he had to walk past a glaring Dumpson, a growling Power Joe, a practically-oblivious McCrane, and a saddened Yuuta.

A giant red fire truck in a meeting room, you must be asking, why haven't you mentioned it? Well, Gunmax didn't care. It's been there for a while and just sits in the corner, so he forgets about it. The fire truck is non-sentient, sadly. It's Duke's combining buddy and upgrades the ambulance to a hulking giant protection suit called "Duke Fire".

Who else can combined? Gunmax with his bike but... Gunmax didn’t include himself, he was telling this narrative right?

Duke made his way back to his combining buddy and checked something on the side of the fire truck. Duke just stared at it for a minute before he started to walk to Deckerd’s seat (A.K.A. the “leaders” seat). As he made his way over, Gunmax heard Power Joe growl and he almost acted on the instinct of throwing his pistol for the fun of it at the yellow power shovel's head. His pistol had a homing device in it, it always comes back to him.

But when Duke didn’t take a seat, he just stared at the desks contents and searched the reports that piled up a little, the American grew curious.

“Why don’t you sit down, throw your feet on the desk?” Gunmax asked as he leaned back in his chair for emphasis.

“That does not sound pleasing. Putting dirty limbs that are bound to be covered in mud or caking dirt on these desks, that the humans spent so long to sanitize when we leave, does not appeal to me.” Duke said but didn’t look at Gunmax til the next sentence, “And it’s very rude. Lady has taught me better.”

… Now even relaxing felt like a crime.

He felt the urge to throw his pistol again when he heard Power Joe growl and actually started to hold his arm against Dumpson’s before it slammed down again. He was getting angry, Gunmax could tell now because the green optics that belonged to the power shovel were darker in hue but practically glowing with "emotions". Gunmax chuckled mentally, it's a wonder Power Joe’s A.I. hadn’t blown out yet.

“You’d all be fit to join me.” Duke said as he toke a random report out of the middle stack and looked over it fully.

Power Joe ripped his arm from Dumpson’s grip, stood up in a rage, and stomped his pede. “Really?! What would you be doing that we so begrudgingly need.”

“Well, I think some of you can join me in getting our jobs done. Paperwork, faxing, or patrol.” Duke said and held the report more firmly, “Others, I recommend asking Mr. Toudou or my Lady to teach you anger management or to some extent, some respect.”

Power Joe howled and launched at Duke, only to be stopped by Dumpson arm locking him and Drillboy (abandoning his ball) holding his chest just incase he wiggled away from Dumpson. McCrane forgot about his rifle entirely and stood up in between the restrained Power Joe with his brothers and Duke. Yuuta stood up quickly but didn’t move in any other way, as did Gunmax.

“You piece of scrap metal!” Power Joe yelled to Duke as he returned to reading the report and apparently the newspaper that went along with it, “How could you just stand there and act like you didn’t do anything?!”

“Because I didn’t,” Duke said and gathered his papers, “I merely suggested what we truly need to be doing. I didn’t want you to actually prove that you need it... Stress relief or not."

Power Joe cried out again and fought against two of his brothers even more as Duke began to leave with what he came for. Gunmax caught Duke’s face when he left, and he saw just before his visored optics couldn’t see Duke’s own face anymore, that Duke’s plain and emotionless orange optics turned a sad and distressed yellow.

Gunmax would have pointed it out if (oh, he knew this was making it worse) Power Joe screaming revolting things after the ambulance.

“You giant wast of metal! Running back to your tiny, creepy corner in the base where trash ends up!” Power Joe just kept going and going, “Running back to the your little British master so she can find a new flaw in your head and make you more of a bastard! You --!”

“POWER JOE!” Yuuta cried and when everyone turned their helms, they saw everyone standing there.

The General was frowning deeply while Toudou was whispering to him, both looking grim. Yuuta and his sisters, Kurumi and Azuki, were standing there, Yuuta crying full and hearty tears as Azuki looked extremely pale. Seia and Ayako stood there with pure surprise and horror on their faces as the door behind them slammed and a young blonde girl stepped out. Regina glared out amongst the crowd but didn’t say anything at first, Gunmax knew she must have been mad at them for distressing Duke and putting “human” inside his “perfect” A.I. Regina had made…

“I could thank you.” Regina said and caused most of the room to go astonishingly more quiet, “But I won’t.”

With that note, she turned and left instantly with a huff. Gunmax… could not believe it. Regina, the head engineer that graduated at the age of 10 from an engineering college, made Duke out of spare parts (literally) and a half made blueprint (okay, exaggeration)… had just thanked them for letting Power Joe verbally abuse Duke.

After a minute of stunned silence, Ayako hit the desk with her fist and glared, “Baka! How dare you say such things to Duke! And how dare all of you-- !” she pointed at everyone else, "--dare to let Power Joe continue!”

“It’s not our job to control to control Power Joe!” Dumpson said and shoved the power shovel away now that he wasn’t struggling, “And Duke was taunting him!”

“Even if so, you do not retort back!” Seia stepped in, “I am a military commander and I have seen things like this in my ranks! Someone says something and the person getting spoken to gets angry and attacks the offender! The beginning aggressor never gets as much punishment as the soldier who attacks him, even if he starts! And I’m sure if you had maimed Duke liked you wish, he’d just come back because of Toudou and Regina’s engineering, and you’d be the one getting your A.I. refreshed!”

Gunmax didn’t stay anymore after that, he ung around swiftly. He was going to consult Duke; but before he left, he left on a sour note… 

“I could have cared less if I ripped the Super A.I. from his processor and he slowly died under my fist-- !” Power Joe, that fool...

Scene II : Taxi Downtown, Gunmax style

Gunmax's jaw line was snapped shut and pursed in a straight line. A very bad note to land on if you were sensitive to topics like this, and Gunmax wasn't a stranger to the whole "team hates new guy" thing. He had been the new guy in the American division once and they were slightly welcoming people. Some were greedy little monsters, because he would wake up from recharge and their would be some random soldier in his quarters and they'd be snooping through his rooms contents. He could still remember his partner being the only one assigned to him that would just sit in a chair and relax and wait for Gunmax to wake up and not snoop his room.

Those days were gone. He was in Japan and with a very crippled team, and right now, he was the glue that was going to fix these mechs. And going to do a pretty good job about it.

He rounded a corner and Gunmax couldn't help but think about what had happened in the Deckerd command room that made his tanks churn just a little. He had never felt so... nervous or this upset. This new guy, he was... Green. He knew the new guys always saw how everyone functioned in a team, like a black and white scanner of sorts, and what each team member was good at in their roles. At least he hoped Duke could see so...

He just hoped that he could at least teach Duke ABOUT the team. Cross his fingers he wasn't too late.

He rounded another corner and saw he was coming up to the Brave Police's engineering room and there were voices coming out of it instead of the usual sound of cutting metal and shifting feet. He stopped at the doorway and softly peaked into the room. The room was empty shy of three figures, two larger then the other. The little figure on the balcony was growling and demanding things from the tallest thing in the room couldn't seem to answer. Duke and Regina. Another figure was on a slab made for the human engineers to reach the Brave Police entirely and he was just laying there. Offline. Shadowmaru. Gunmax snickered but went quiet as Regina snapped at Duke again.

"I will hear no more discussion of it!" Regina said as Gunmax peaked a little more, just enough to see them entirely.

"But Lady! I can make a change. A difference in their perspectives." Duke pleaded, Gunmax's actual optics widen at the emotion it was leaking, strain, "I can show them they don't need Deckerd as a leader, and that it can be different."

"You won't." Regina said as she gripped a device in her hands, it wasn't really finished but it looked like a remote control, "They're too fond of him. You'll never be excepted into this team the way I made you for."

"Lady, to be fair," Duke began again and he almost growled at the kicked puppy look Duke was giving Regina, "I...I could care less if I'm seen as the leader, I just want to have the team-- a team again. This isn't Scotland Yard, your not the leader anymore. This is Japan, we have a direct superior now. Both of us."

"That is correct. We are not in Scotland anymore." Regina hummed.

"Thank you, Lady." Duke sighed. It couldn't be simply over just like that with Regina...

"That only means that you need to be reprogrammed." Regina began again and Gunmax winced, "The perfect policeman does not care to appeal the team. A perfect policeman does not care about where he is living and working, everything follows you no matter where you go..."

"Lady! Please." Duke called.

"And the perfect policeman does not beg and whine when someone does not rule in their favor!" Regina finished and held up the unfinished device, "This machine is going to be a switch. A switch for your A.I. and only I decide when you get shut down!"

"That's not what we wanted, Lady." Duke choked, "I want nothing to do with any of... THIS."

The sound of running meet his audios, as they grew closer, he pressed against the wall as Duke ran past him, his running stance sloppy and rushed. Gunmax watched the distressed ambulance run and he heard within the room he had previously been spying on. Just as he was about to run in the room, to demand what was going on, he heard a slight scoff from the room Duke had exit...

Gunmax frowned, growling softly as he made his way after Duke, the ambulance couldn't have gone far.

Stupid accusation! Turns out the ambulance could get as far as he wanted when he was upset. And he was very much ready to say, "Okay, I did my fair share of work, let him work it out on his own. I did."

And that almost made him smack himself, he hadn't done anything and it was hard for him to claim the prize of participation when all he did was eavesdrop and fail to give chase. He sneered and smacked his face, avoiding his visor to avoid dramatic stupidity, and slowly moved it down off his face in a gesture of stressed aggravation.

"Gunmax!" Drillboy came over frantically and in such bad hysterics that he would sometimes stumble on his one repeated word.

"Drillboy? Drillboy!" Gunmax said and tried to pay attention to the gibberish he was receiving.

"Gunmax!" Drillboy started again with the hyper speech, Gunmax wanted to smack the drillformer but that would cause the brat to be even more upset, "... Duke left with Yuuta and his sisters!"

Gunmax was tempted to say, "It could be his turn to take them home." but he wanted to smack himself again. Duke hadn't been here for more then almost a day and a half and he's pretty sure no one has had the guts to take over Deckard's job on taking Yuuta and/or his sisters home just yet. So that meant he had to go to mini-bosses home and look for the ambulance, demand a explanation, and stomp all over his teammates for earlier.

He didn't listen to Drillboy anymore as he put his servo on the naive mechas face to shut him up and he made his way to his garage where his bike was waiting for the chase. What he didn't do as he turned the corner, was listen to his orange and soccer addicted counterpart.

"Wait! Gunmax-- WAIT! Duke said something else! GUNMAX!" And Drillboy was left alone.

Scene III : Flashback to Kagero, Highway ambulance heist

Duke hadn't meant to go that far, Lady was probably hastening her advancements on her A.I. remote. He knew he went out of line, he knew he must have made her mad. Her glares said it all.

Duke speed through the hallway and down to the garage which he knew lead to the less used entrance of the building. The Braves’ garage could fit a little more than Super Build Tiger and J-Decker while the two sat, with a slight hunch, hip to hip. But the back garage wouldn't even fit Gunmax very well; though, as the room the humans stored their cars and bikes in, it could fit Shadowmaru's wolf form just fine. Humans storage, not ambulance bots escape route. Yet it was about to become just that.

He should have stopped as an orange frame came around the corner but he didn't. He just didn't. When Drillboy almost fell over him, Duke had halted. The ambulance really only did this because the smaller bot grabbing his arms in an attempt to stabilize himself.

Drillboy must have mistook him stopping as a sign he’d tried helped him from falling because he’d smiled sadly at the British bot, saying, "Thanks, Duke."

"Oh," Duke said, and he’d frowned slightly as the orange mech didn't let his forearms go, "Your welcome, Drillboy. I apologise for running into you but I really must go."

Drillboy didn't let go even when Duke tugged lightly, trying to not raise more suspicion about his rushed exit. Apparently dashing in the halls after what happened in the meeting room sent up a red flag. If he hadn't ran, if he’d set a leisurely pace in the direction he wanted, then maybe he would be scott free and transforming out of the back entrance by now. Maybe he wouldn’t be enduring suspicious looks from the little mech.

"Duke," Drillboy said lightly, "Don't take whatever Power Joe said to heart. He’s just trying to cope with Deckard gone."

Duke grunted but not in response to the drill, just at himself for getting dragged down like this. "Trust me, I won't. Anything Power Joe says "goes out the other ear" as they say. I appreciate your concern Drillboy but I really..."

Drillboy brought on a big, sad, look. Nothing like the usual puppy dog optics he used when the rest of the team tried telling him no. Somehow this was worse. Instead of simply invoking feelings of sadness, this brought unnecessary guilt to his A.I. He had a sinking feeling Drillboy was going to beg him to tell him what's wrong, or--even worse--beg to walk him to wherever he was in such a hurry to go. Duke couldn't see Drillboy casually walking to the back entrance and letting him creep out, not without asking why. He really didn't need the drill upset over him leaving.

"Please, Duke," Drillboy said softly, "Let me at least join you--"

Bloody hell!? Did the little mech just know exactly what other’s didn’t want him to ask?

"--Until I get where I need to be. We’re only a few corners away! I want to walk with you just a little, be next to you in a way."

That . . . actually didn't sound too bad. Drillboy had taken a room and transformed it into a decent soccer field: ball polish, extra balls, air pumps, extra nets and beams for goals, paint for the field he practiced on. You name it and Drillboy had it. Futball maintenance was all the room was good for and it seemed the ball on Drillboy's chassis could use some right about now.

"Fine." Duke said with some interest, watching Drillboy perk up. "We'll walk to your maintenance closet."

"Ah, ah!" Drillboy shouted, letting the ambulance go and waving a finger. "The maintenance closet of soccer professionals, you mean!"

"Whatever floats your boat, Drillboy." Duke smiled and began walking. Drillboy sticking close to his right side.

The maintenance closet was in the same direction as the back entrance and that made Duke less upset about the walk. He had plenty to be upset about today, certainly enough to make this walk uncomfortable: fighting with whatever was left of this team, watching as crippled Shadowmaru tried some physical therapy and landing back on the berth with a heave, Lady showing him the machine that would controlled his basic life, and being tailed by Gunmax for quite a while until he lost him. That was only since the sun had gone down.

"So," Drillboy said with his arms behind his helm, "Where were you going in a hurry?"

Duke couldn’t think of a reason to stay silent, not with the ceiling looming over head, soundlessly demanding Drillboy be treated well. Guilt. Neither did he have a reason to tell the truth. "Fax room. An urgent notion has to be faxed and looked over with care about medical professional not getting paid their wages." Duke calmly claimed.

Drillboy must have accepted it because he hummed and move on with another question, expression blank as he could manage. "Anything fancy happen lately? Anything you might be upset about?"

"Not that I can think of," or that you should know, "nothing urgent anyway. Maybe a few mothers giving birth in my cab as I saved them from buildings upsets me slightly but nothing else bad." Duke sighed.

Drillboy cringed. "Aren't births messy?"

"Yes." Simple answer.

Drillboy looked at him in surprise. "Who helped you clean that out?!"

Duke hummed in thought. "Well, Lady and the generals were too busy, so I think Ms. Seia and a military man cleaned and sterilized my cab."

"You think?!" Drillboy emphasized as they turned the first of two corners.

Duke nodded. He was slightly upset he couldn't actually remember getting cleaned. The births hadn't been lovely, but not all unpleasant. At least he wasn't the doctor who had to birth and control the process or the father whose hands popped and skin turned red as the wife screamed. He was glad he only had to drive to the hospital and not help anyone inside . . .

"Well . . ." Drillboy said after shivering. "Are you sure nothing else’s bugging you? Nothing you want to tell me, or at least show me?"

"No," Duke said. "Not that I can think of."

"You sure Duke?" Drillboy said, his tone interlaced two unknown emotions together.

"Drillboy." Duke snapped lightly and looked at the mech, "I'm fine, everything's fine, nothing is wrong and I'm sorry I have no ‘juicy gossip’ as you call it." He looked at how far they had to go before Drillboy's stop then back to Drillboy, "Why are you so persistent?"

Drillboy sighed lightly, looking at the ceiling, servos still interlocked behind his neck, "Because something is bothering me and I'm upset about it..."

Duke couldn't just let Drillboy leave off there. Duke might be the expendable part of the team, not really a true member , but he couldn't leave the little bot like that. Drillboy had that thing about him where no one could ignore him and it had nothing to do with how the mech was orange and white with a big mouth and volume. That was just his presence. Or the fact Duke was being a hypocrite lately.

"What is it, Drillboy?" Duke asked softly to his walking companion.

Drillboy halted and he lowered his arms, making Duke stop in his tracks in confusion for a second. Drillboy oddly blank look scared realization into the ambulance.

"A certain friend of mine has been lying to me since we started talking. Sound familiar?"

Duke almost choked. Drillboy continued with a light but rigid tone of voice. "He lied about fax reports. He lied about being fine. He lied about not letting a certain brother of mine's words get to him. I think the only truth I've got out of him tonight it the fact his cab has a 50 percent chance of having pregnant lady fluids in it."

Duke mental reeled and did a double take. So Drillboy was more observant than people gave him credit for. He had noticed Duke was walking in the opposite direction of the fax machine, the fact he was hesitant to walk with him after what transpired in the meeting room, and even that the only thing that was true came out of his vocalizer easier than the lies did.

"Kudos, Drillboy." Duke whispered back to him.

Drillboy smiled and then went back to a frown to keep him composure and make sure Duke didn't pull him into a subject chang. "Thank you. Now, will I get a correct answer? Please, Duke . . ."

"I won't tell you the whole truth . . ." Duke said as he stepped in front of the soccer mech. "Maybe some of it though. You did find your way around my steady lying."

"Some?!" Drillboy choked. "But I want to help you!"

"And you will. Just not now." Duke said, getting closer and whispered to the startled and confused mech, "But you're not the one who's going to save me from myself..."

Drillboy looked up in pure concern and confusion as Duke retreated and turned to take a few steps before he heard a beep. It was a comm link. It was too far and muffled to be his own so he watched as Duke stopped and cursed lightly. Someone must have...

"Looks like I have to take the children home, everyone else is unsuitable to roam the streets with children inside them. Like an ambulance is any better." Duke mumbled out loud, turning to Drillboy. "Sorry, you have to walk the rest of the way yourself, I have a duty to fulfill."

Duke disappeared from Drillboy’s sight and the little mech frozen after. He hadn't realized it until Duke was gone, but now he could hearhurried steps from where they--Duke--had stood a few seconds ago. He knew who it was before his teammate perimeter alert warned him.

"Gunmax! Gunmax!" He ran back the way he came.

Duke sighed as Yuuta was carried into his driver seat unconscious. He wasn't upset at this turn of events with Yuuta's family needing to be taken home. It was a hassle on his plan though, especially when they were asleep inside his cab. Sure, his sisters were awake but the little boss was who he saw everyday. He could get away with acting suspicious around Yuuta as he was blinded by childish naivety, but his sisters... His sister's weren't exactly often called to the police station. They could pick up on his subtle hints of being upset, being older sisters and mature, he hoped they didn't.

They swiftly swung in and the eldest sister buckled in Yuuta's sleeping form. When they were all buckled up, Duke speed out the back entrance and started a steady and relieving pace to the humans’ home.

The night would have been silent had it not been for Yuuta's snoring and the two girls whispering in his passenger seats about bloody knows what. He had no interest on listening in after the baby incident and he gladly just drove straight and--.

"Duke," Azuki said softly, "We want to apologize for what happened today. It was so ugly."

"Yeah!" Kurumi said louder but not loud enough to stir the sleeping boy, "You’re not the one who took Deckard from us, you're also not the one who put yourself in charge! That was all Regina--"

"Please!" Duke said and cut off the middle child, "You'll awaken Yuuta."

"But--" Kurumi was silent when Azuki shushed her dark haired sister.

"Duke," Azuki looked at his dashboard with a loving and calming look, making him feel something in his A.I. that was strangely uncomfortable. "I understand what you're going through . . ."

"Azuki..." He whispered gently, as a warning or as astonishment, he didn't know. He and Kurumi listened to the oldest sister of the Tomonaga siblings who's eyes had grown starry.

"I understand because I've done this about three times." She said softly with that same bloody caring expression, "Shadowmaru and Kagero, I think his name was, were fighting, and I was caught in the middle. Kagero and Shadowmaru were practically brothers when Kagero went rogue and started attacking talking machines, which is how I got where I was."

Duke listened intently, quiet but still paying attention, while Kurumi searched the seat.

"They had a falling out. Shadowmaru held a certain point of view that Kagero didn't. Kagero was going to be wiped of his memories, given new orders, and shipped off somewhere else. To Shadowmaru that was an okay idea, he didn't need Kagero being his "shadow" anymore and this was a chance at a possibly new and better life for Kagero. Kagero didn't agree. While Shadowmaru monologued how much memories were just data, Kagero stated his memories were more than data. Everything built from there. Kagero didn't want to forget everything he knew, didn't want to forget Shadowmaru like he was nothing...

"Because to Kagero, Shadowmaru was his everything." Azuki stopped, tears fresh in her big brown eyes, before continuing, "Shadowmaru let Kagero go and Kagero returned me. I was so tired I fell unconscious . . . when I awake, I got information that scared me to death--" She choked, "Kagero was captured and tampered with... Shadowmaru had to kill him . . ."

Duke watched as she rubbed her eyes and smiled at him, again with such love and misery he was sure it was burning his inner chassis.

"I had to comfort Shadowmaru when he showed up in our backyard with low fuel. He had tried to starve himself to death, would you believe it?" Azuki's voice was softer now. Duke couldn't understand how but it was. "I told him the real Kagero was cheering him on somewhere, and when Deckerd showed up to retrieve him for a mission, Shadowmaru, he fueled all the way back up. Ready to fight..."

Duke heard Kurumi gasp softly as Azuki finished off tortuous last words.

"For him."

"OH NO!" Kurumi cried, surprisingly not stirring the boy to her left. She was looking around frantically as if Azuki's story wasn't heart touching. Either that or this item she was looking for was important.

"Ms. Tomonaga, what are you looking for?" Duke asked as he stopped at their house.

"We have to go back!" She told Duke's dashboard before patting her dress down again. "We left our pagers for the team back on Yuuta's desk. We also left some forms we need for Yuuta's next year on the force!"

Duke made a calming noise. "Don't worry, I have no reason to rush this trip. I can drive you back and Azuki can go retrieve said items from Yuuta's desk. Okay?"

Kurumi calmed down. "Yes, thank you. I apologize for yelling so loudly."

"No need." Duke's tone sounded of a smile while his vehicle form could not.

He set them back into motion and they drove down the street so Duke could get to the intersection and make a U-turn. On the way to the intersection, they paused at a red light leading to a four-way stop. South, the way they came. North were neighborhoods and houses of the city. West was small markets and local service providing places. East lead into the highways of downtown Nanamagari City. Duke sat at the red light for awhile before making a soft noise to gain the attention of the two young women.

"Yes Duke?" Kurumi asked.

"What do you need?" Azuki asked alongside her younger sister.

"Azuki..." Duke said softly, timidly, "Why did you tell me such a story? About Shadowmaru and... Kagero, yes?"

She nodded and hummed, "Well, you remind me of Kagero, excluding the kidnapping and physical dispute with someone else, you are having personality problems. Or in present terms, "getting along and fitting in" trouble. I feel with a little niceness, maybe..."

Duke saw the green light and turned onto the intersection, the blacktop cold and sleek with fresh friction under his rolling tires. He sped down the fast lane, making good headway for the station.

"Just maybe... you would open up to us helping you. Maybe even to the team . . .?"

"OH MY GOD! DUKE, SWERVE!" Kurumi screamed, awakening her brother next to her. She tried to grab his wheel.

Before he could ask why she had screamed once again, a large mass landed and broke the blacktop it crashed onto. A dozen cars on both sides swerved and panicked, crashing into each other, but Duke had no such luxury. He hit what appeared to be a leg, trying to stop the humans from receiving whiplash.

Whatever it was put its foot on his roof and pressed down, making Duke's alt mode creak with strain, and he grunted as the family inside him grew scared. He opened his doors and ordered them out of his alt mode, they quickly complied with his demands. The girls crawled out his right door and Yuuta out his left. With his door now open, they no longer providing essential structural support, his body began to give way to pressure and his roof started cracking.

Suddenly, the foot lifted off of him and Duke didn't take the opportunity to just sit there. The ambulance tried to transform, made challenging with the damage he sustained, only to catch a glimpse of the thing’s foot coming down to kick him in the face with full force as his bipedal form rested after his transformation.

He flew over a five car intersection blockage, an umptheen car pile on, and hit two cars with their humans still inside before skidding on the pavement, taking blacktop with him. He laid there limp as the man and woman in each car screamed in terror as the massive force loomed over them. The being just stood over there, blocking a good chunk of the stars and blending with the empty black midnight abyss he stared at some nights. The form’s optics glistened as they traced his inpudent frame.

J-Decker. The form was J-Decker, the big body couldn't hide those familiar features he recognized the last time they fought. The chassis. The base color clear even in the shadows. The optics burned the same even if they were under the control of an alien force. Said alien force clinging to J-Decker's body.

He quickly pulled out his pistol and cocked the revolver to make sure his ammunition was full before he shot up at his doom. Oil ran down his mouth and from the crack on his forehead, his right optic getting covered in black grease. He spit out said oil as it leaked into his mouth and quickly aimed up at J-Decker as the beast raised its same foot above him.

The humans under his side started to scream louder and the began to giggle their door handles.

The pavement felt twice as cold against his back...

It was going to stomp him. Like some fly it was just swatting out of the air but hadn't killed...

He pulled the trigger four times before that large leg came down at him with full force. All the while he heard the distant sound of a motorcycle revving its engine at full throttle and a human female screaming:

"DUKE! DUKE!"

Sadly, in his A.I. he knew that was the third time tonight a girl had yelled at him.

Sadly, it was the third different female who yelled at him...

Azuki-- no, any women-- had never sound so heart wrenchingly horrified.