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velvetsehun · 5 years ago

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Born to Die| OSH| 05

pairing: Oh Sehun x Reader genre: Mafia!Sehun rating: 18+ warnings: violence, gun use, mature language, smut (in future chapters), slow burn. words: 17.6k summary: a collusions of worlds is supposed to kill, but what if it can do something else?

A/N: Enjoy my loves, be sure to leave feedback - this is going to be a long one so get a snack and a drink ;)

TW// Warning this part contains some material that might be sensitive to readers as it depicts scenes of violence, readers discretion is advised.

Masterlist| Next

With eyes glazed over in interest, he watched from a small skylight – the figure of the policeman tending to you while you struggled to keep yourself upright in your chair, he was interested in what had just gone on in front of him. The flicker of blue and red light raiding up onto his curious face.

“Very interesting indeed…” His eyes flicked to where he’d seen the cars leave not too long ago, a gloved finger tapping his lip thoughtfully before his narrowed eyes flickered back down to the lady of the hour, “But, who are you dear…?” He’d never seen a life spared like that before.

There was a meaning behind that, meaning behind the last touch and whisper – he knew as well as anyone, lackies or dead weight didn’t get spared.

“Huh...” He tapped over the glass that looked down at you, his index finger pointed directly as you, your figure now slouched in the arms of the officer who was rushing out to the ambulance outside, a small smirk on crept onto his face, “Well, I’ll have to be seeing you soon, won't I?” He spoke to no one.

“Come on sweetheart, breathe with me, you’re okay now.”

You weren’t sure if you just lost a stream of consciousness after “officer Jeon” removed the bag from your head or if your soul finally left your body, but what you could remember was the feeling of warm hard reaching around you to cut your zip ties and the constant stream of reassurance burrowing in your ear.

“Hey…” You felt a light slap to your cheek, your groggy eyes fighting to stay awake as a small groan passed your lips, “Come on, I’m going to lift you up okay?” You grumbled in response, your head lulling forward to rest on his warm shoulder – he was a safety blanket for the moment.

“Is the ambulance outside?” Officer Jeon huffed out, “She needs oxygen quickly.”

“What’s the matter with her?” Someone asked, he got a chipped response.

“She’s gone into shock.” Officer Jeon snapped as you felt yourself being pulled up into his arms, your head spinning for a second – your eyes peaked open for a second to get a proper look at the officer.

“Huh…” You thought, “He’s kinda cute.” He had a youthful essence to his face, probably a little younger than yourself, but the way his jaw tensed made him look a bit older – sensing you looking at him, he glanced down at you with a slight smile.

“Don’t worry,” He spoke kindly, “You’re almost there.”

You could tell he takes his job seriously; he was tentative to you – not like Chanyeol was, he was more of a friendly touch, this officer spoke and acted like the perfect version of his job description, it was refreshing. Just as he said, you were almost there, before you knew it you were being placed to sit on the edge of an ambulance – your legs dangling out the back as an unknown woman make quick work of placing an oxygen mask over your dry mouth.

“Deep breath now, sweetheart” The female EMT spoke to you while fiddling with the oxygen tank, just as she did – it started to flow through the mask around your nose and mouth, the cold oxygen cooling your burning lungs.

Officer Jeon had no shame in watching you gasping into the mask, clearly enjoying the fresh air as your eyes flickered around the area you were in – a sense of unknowing seeping into your irises. You weren’t stupid, he was trying to work you out, you tried to play the part of someone who knew absolutely nothing, shivering into the foil blanket as it wrapped around you, Sehun’s previous words ringing very clearly in your ears.

“How do you know as once I get out that I won’t just go to the police?” You snapped, but you drew back when Sehun smiled.

“You’re dumb,” He began sounding nice before his voice dropped to a deadly tone, “But as you said, you enjoy living, you think about going to the police and I’ll make sure that seizes to be an option.” His tone was dark, so much so that your jaw dropped in astonishment, words dying on your throat.

Sehun mentioned that the police were on the way back when he was pressuring Gwan to give him an answer – but after threatening you to keep quiet on your end, you couldn’t believe for a second that he trusted you not to say anything, it was strange.

“You only have a few minutes, Gwan.” Sehun taunted him, “I’ve got some friends on the way who wouldn’t like how this could go down.”

“Friends…” You thought, your eyes flickering up to Officer Jeon, “He isn’t…Is he?” You narrowed your eyes slightly, still breathing deeply into the oxygen mask.

The area surrounding the warehouse was a mess, clearly as it was in the middle of nowhere – but the police were all over it like it was a crime scene, dogs and men barking orders filling the frost-bitten night. There was no sign that Sehun and his men were even here in the first place or Exodus as you should probably call them. The tire tracks from the car you were hauled out of were completely gone, the ground untouched – it was almost like you were the only one that was were here in the first place. It was spooky how quickly the men worked but you remembered that this was their job profession, even if it was their profession to nearly kill you three times in the space of a couple of days.

“Miss.” A voice snapped you out of your thought, eyes flickering up to Officer Jeon who was now joined with a slightly older man, “How are you feeling?” Sighing slightly, you removed the mask.

“I’ve been better.” You wheezed slightly, looking at the men, “But that’s not really what you want to ask me, huh?” Officer Jeon looked taken back.

“Any questioning will be done at the station, Miss,” Jeon smiled to cover the shock, “Merely just asking how you are.” You wanted to roll your eyes, but you kept a neutral face.

It was the moral question bouncing around your head that was wracking your brain more than this cop was; do you sell Sehun out? Is that even an option? Or is there someone waiting to kill you as soon as you open your mouth? It was a difficult situation, but you flicked your eyes back to the cop, to see if maybe you could suss him out instead.

“Please,” You smiled briefly, looking at the young cop, “Call me Y/N…” The cop smiled slightly, but the virtue in his eyes told you everything.

Placing the mask down, you took breaths of actual air – watching it crystallise into a hazy fog in the freezing atmosphere, you were warm now despite the bit of the night so with a sigh you looked at the officers again.

“Officer Jeon, I’d like to go to the station now if that’s alright…”

To some, a few pins on a map meant various locations in a city in which a person, and whoever they’re deciding to go, with could visit; but to Sehun the few pins merely told him where the Oh Family empire has sewn their roots around the city. It was a fickle thing really, but a small pin shoved into a tacky map showed some resemblance of his power, even if it was a picture of his crumbling power.

“How long are you going to stare at that thing?” Baekhyun sighed, tapping his fingers on the arm of the velour chair that he’d very much made a home in, Sehun’s office was weirdly comfortable for a man of that stature, “It’s still the same as when you put it up an hour ago” He hummed before he grunted, someone had clearly tried to shut him up again.

“I’m going to stare at it, Baekhyun,” Sehun began, his body lent casually against the back of the couch so he could look at the map in question, “Until one of my idiot brothers give me a reason to no longer stare at it.” Even if he wasn’t facing the brother he was talking to, he could feel his huffiness from where he was currently perched, it was just the two of them in the room.

“Well you’re in a delightful mood today,” Baekhyun scoffed back, “You worry too much, Sehun – sit down already.” That was enough to make Sehun gaze over his shoulder.

“And you worry too little,” Sehun retorted to the older man, “You forget the circumstances we’re in.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes.

“Like you’d let me forget,” He scoffed slightly, “You forget who spent the better part of all day yesterday running around the city for you.” He kicked his legs up on Sehun’s coffee table with a wince, his body was tired as it is.

“I call that doing your job,” Sehun hummed, turning around to stare at the man with a raised brow, his hands leaning on the back of the couch, “Or is the only thing you like doing is giving your witty comments?”

“So, you admit I’m witty?” Baekhyun smirked, much to Sehun’s dismay.

“Just get your feet off my coffee table,” His boss rolled his eyes, glancing at the map again before walking to his desk – Sehun, like the rest of his men, was tired, his body practically melting into his chair, stress had his arms around him.

Baekhyun didn’t make an attempt to move his feet, but he did glance at the map – his brows furrowed as he stared at their turf with interest, it was a lot larger than what Sehun’s father had originally acquired in his time, it was impressive what his son had managed to do in the few years he’d been boss but even now; Baekhyun could tell that the effects of owning an empire were taking a toll on his younger brother, and that had his stress melting off his face as he sighed.

“He’d be proud of you, you know?” Baekhyun spoke plainly, it wasn’t a snide remark for once, but it still has Sehun tensing – the younger man flicking his eyes to look at him. It was rare you got to see much happening in Sehun’s eyes, but Baekhyun had known him long enough to see the pain his irises carried.

“Very proud in fact” The older brother hummed, “Actually, we’re all proud of you…” Sehun sighed at that.

“He wouldn’t be proud of me,” Sehun had a slight edge to his voice as his eyes spaced out slightly.

“What makes you think that?” Baekhyun questioned, folding his arms over his chest slightly, he didn’t want to press the young man, but he was curious.

“Because I’m not him,” Sehun tutted softly, “All this power and I can’t control what’s under my nose, my father had eyes everywhere – I seem to only have eyes when they chose to open.” Baekhyun sighed at that.

“Your father was also an incessantly greedy man,” Baekhyun cut in, biting his lip as his eyes flicked to his younger brother – he wasn’t his boss at that moment, “He had eyes everywhere because he was paranoid, he didn’t trust his syndicates as far as he could throw them, but regardless he always wanted more” Baekhyun didn’t give Sehun a chance to speak.

“Everything you have, you have it because you had the skills to get them and keep them,” Baekhyun took his feet off the table and sat straighter, “Your father? He lacked the communication; he was shoot first—" Baekhyun was cut off.

“Ask questions second.” Sehun finished.

“Exactly,” Baekhyun hummed, “Your father got most of his turf with war and blood, but you? You kept them around because you know how to speak to people” Baekhyun could see something flicker in Sehun’s eyes but he still kept quiet.

“So no, Sehun,” Baekhyun started with a deep sigh, “You’re nothing like your father, but be thankful you’re not, because otherwise? You’d face the same fate as him.”

It was quiet for a second before a small smile appeared on Sehun’s face, it wasn’t his usual smirk, it was an actual smile – something hard to find on the man’s face.

“Maybe I should promote you to motivational speaker,” Sehun chuckled, a humility to him that he reserved only for his brothers, “Motivation speaker and loudmouth.” Baekhyun laughed at that, a smile bleeding onto his face but he softened slightly before he continued to speak.

“As much as I hate to be the one to say it,” Baekhyun chuckled softly, “You’re too hard on yourself, it's ageing you.” He smirked, Sehun rolled his eyes.

“I am still perfectly young,” Sehun scoffed.

“Really?” Baekhyun teased, “You’re 26 and get I think I can see grey hairs from here?” Baekhyun joked, but Sehun looked at him before he glanced at the paperweight on his desk.

“You want another one to the face?” Sehun smirked at him, to which Baekhyun raised his hands in surrender, “Thought so...”

Although Sehun spent most of his time now with his underboss, Junmyeon, most of his childhood was spent with Baekhyun – the two families were thick as thieves for most of their lives, and the two had fond memories together. Baekhyun could still vaguely remember a tiny Sehun running around the gardens of the Byun estate while their mothers looked fondly at them – something that was very well in the past now, but it was memories like those that strengthened the bonds between them. Sehun was there most of his life, even in the moments he didn’t want to remember, he was there more than his biological brother was – so it made moments like this less awkward than it would if anyone else was to ask them. Sehun respected and loved all his brothers, he was their boss after all, but it was key bonds he knew that brought him comfort. Their world was a tricky one, and it was moments like Junmyeon and Minseok entering the room with a huff that reminded them off the task at hand.

“I’ll tell you something,” Minseok scoffed slightly, throwing himself down on the couch, “Some of these families are the epitome of egotism” He rolled his eyes.

Minseok was one of the few that was from a low family in the syndicate – they didn’t come from wealth or any stature, they were lackies in every sense of the word. Baekhyun could vaguely remember that his father owed one of their families a lot of money a long time ago.

“I see the meeting with the Lee’s on the westside went well?” Sehun hummed with a slight smirk.

“Well?” Minseok jeered, “Jaeyoon remains a bigot, refused to speak to me, it was from the immediate Oh family or silence.” Sehun chuckled slightly at that.

“I assume you got what I asked?” Sehun let a small puff of air that could register as a laugh pass from his lips, “Or do I need to send someone else.” Minseok was dramatically draped on the chair with his hand covering his eyes.

“It took about an hour of bargaining but Lee said none of the casinos have had any suspicious activity, all the chips are accounted for and there’s been no silver-haired man and his friend lurking around,” Minseok sighed.

“But…?” Sehun raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to it.

“He and the 3 other families you’ve had me talk to are a bit suspicious,” Minseok looked at the man, “And I assume Jongdae was in the same boat as me” Sehun tapped at his desk looking at Junmyeon, taking in the information.

“I assume your little cop friends have been informed of tomorrow?” Sehun decided to continue.

“Commissioner Jung has been tipped off, yes,” Junmyeon told him, “A team and an ambulance will be dispatched to the scene as soon as we leave, but we have to be quick – otherwise we will be in trouble” He raised his eyebrows at his boss.

“You still haven’t told me exactly what it is you’re planning,” Jun tutted slightly, clearly a bit disgruntled being out of the loop.

“Don’t live for the thrill, Jun?” Sehun drawled while leaning back in his chair, he was met with a blank face, “Trust me, please.”

Sehun looked like he was about to spill the beans but Baekhyun felt a laugh bubble up in his throat as Kyungsoo slammed the door open like he always did, a mirror of annoyance passing over Junmyeon’s face as he did at the disturbance.

“The girl’s story checks out,” Kyungsoo wasted no time, making himself known in the room – a rather tame looking Chanyeol trailing in behind him, “Footage from Oasis’ cameras were tampered with and wiped clean at the same time every couple weeks” The two sat down at one of the bigger couches in the room.

“I expected as much, looks like it’ll make tomorrow slightly easier” Sehun sighed, “You think it’s possible to find the footage?” Sehun quizzed slightly, much to Kyungsoo’s sigh.

“I mean, I could try but I’d need the physical hard drive” He tutted slightly, “It's fine and well to hack into the camera’s but if it’s been wiped I’d need the physical unit that held the footage” Sehun made a noise at that.

“And where is that hard drive?” He asked, looking at the two of them, but it was Chanyeol who spoke this time.

“Police storage,” Chanyeol rolled his eyes, “They wiped the bar completely clean, one of the guys checked it out yesterday” Sehun’s eyes fluttered closed for a second out of annoyance before he looked at Jun.

“So, they have whatever was leftover of our stock from the bar?” Sehun felt his coolness frying at the seams.

“Not exactly, no” Baekhyun cut in, looking a tad sheepish – the conversation turned to him as he continued, “I might have worked a little out of pocket...”

“Out of pocket?” Sehun’s brows raised.

“After Junmyeon and Chanyeol rummaged the bar for the girl's things, I might have had some of the men slip in and get the rest of the stock…” Baekhyun grinned slightly, clearly proud of himself, and for once Sehun felt a small weight off his chest – a laugh passing his lips.

“Normally I’d reprimand you, but it seems you used your head for once,” Sehun smirked, “But you didn’t think to tell anyone?” To which Baekhyun pointed at his fading black eye.

“Slipped my mind,” He chortled, everyone in the room laughed at that for a second before another silence washed over it.

“We still need the hard drive,” Sehun tutted softly, “It’s not exactly the main priority right now, but I’d love to see the full footage – and put a face to our faceless men.”

“Speak of which, where is—” Sehun was cut off which someone else coming in the room, “Jongin…” He continued looking at the man who was clothed rather plainly for once, but that was part of his job.

“Someone’s got a flair for the dramatics,” Minseok muffled a laugh, the rest of the men looking slightly amused, but their boss remained a bit more passive.

“Find out anything useful?” Baekhyun smirked softly.

Out of all the men – Jongin had the best job, he often got to go out and undercover as someone else for a few days to get information, whereas people like Baekhyun and Chanyeol dealt with a lot of the “heavy lifting” or the jobs that no one else had the stomach for. Everyone played their part in the group, but some of them still had better jobs than others – people like Jongin didn’t get their hands dirty in the same way that people like Baekhyun and Chanyeol did, and it was very rare that you’d see Minseok, Jun, Kyungsoo or Jongdae get their hands dirty.

“Well,” Jongin looked a bit stressed while he looked at his brothers, “I went back to the area surrounding the bar like you asked.” Sehun looked at him expectantly, Jongin had been gone for a night and day at this point – he expected something.

“And while I was in a café not too far from the bar I heard some people talking,” Jongin sat down on the arm of one of the couches, looking directly at his boss, “It was mostly buzzing around what happened the other night, but I also picked up on some college kids talking.”

“Does the club ‘Teardrop’ mean anything to you?” Jongin asked, to which Sehun looked a bit curious.

“Can’t say I know the owner, but it’s not one of ours” Sehun looked at Jongin curiously.

“Well, I tried to follow any leads I had in the area who might have been dealt anything by Byung-Chul, and that came up cold,” Jongin explained, as everyone looked at him confused as to where he was going, “But these kids were talking about a new party drug that was making the rounds at that club, what exactly were you sending to Oasis again?” Sehun raised an eyebrow thinking for a second.

“A strong strain of cocaine…” Sehun muttered slightly, the cogs turning in his head. “It was being held there until it could be sold off to some of our more prestige clients.”

“Well,” Jongin started, “It was the only lead I had, so I decided to go to Teardrop last night and check it out for myself.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a clear baggy, a powdery substance clinging to the plastic.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Sehun held his hand out to Jongin – the latter standing to drop the baggy in his hands and Sehun wasted no time opening it once he had it. The familiar sweet floral scent wafted from the bag, it was stronger than it usually was; the main reason they were selling it, but the metallic smell that usually cut through wasn’t there, something was muffling the smell.

“Is this ours?” Sehun frowned, dropping the baggy on his desk.

“I picked that up in Teardrop last night,” Jongin said, “I managed to snag it off some girl, but everyone there was on it – there wasn’t a soul that was sober in the place.” Sehun passed the baggy to Junmyeon who had stood to investigate.

“It smells like ours but also not…” Junmyeon glared at the substance slightly, “Tampered?” He looked at Jongin.

“Possibly,” Jongin shrugged.

“But where did she get it?” Baekhyun asked, clearly confused, to which Jongin looked a bit annoyed.

“A silver-haired man…” He frowned, “I tried to get her to tell me anything about him, but she was barely coherent, everyone was gone.”

“Bartenders?” Sehun tilted his head, curious.

“Silent,” Jongin confirmed, “I asked around, no one could tell me anything, i searched the place for about an hour and nothing - he wasn’t there.”

“Security cameras?” Sehun clenched his jaw slightly.

“Nothing,” Jongin sighed, “It’s like he doesn’t exist…”

“He does exist,” Baekhyun hummed, “It’s just he’s keeping himself very well hidden…”

“More like hidden to the right people,” Chanyeol scoffed, looking deeper in thought than the rest of them, something the Baekhyun raised his eyebrow at.

“Think any harder, Yeol and you’ll burst a blood vessel,” Baekhyun said, toying with the man – to which the man in question merely just rolled his eyes.

“I just think it’s a bit funny that’s all…” Chanyeol grumbled.

“You think what’s funny?” Junmyeon asked, slightly confused.

“The whole thing,” Chanyeol puffed out, “We have to random men able to just walk into a bar, convince our dealer to give them our supply and they distribute it under our noses in one of the few clubs we don’t own.” He gestured to the map, annoyed.

Looking at the map, Sehun got back off his chair to walk to it – twirling a red pin in his nimble fingers as he stared the piece of paper down, his brothers staring at him as he placed the contrasting pin in the centre of the city. There was a wave of silence as their boss collected his thoughts.

“Chanyeol’s right,” Sehun affirmed, “It’s very weird that they’ve managed to pull it off, and pull it off without anyone flagging any up – which makes me think that whoever they are, they aren’t working solely by themselves…” He hummed, tapping the new mark on the map.

“But who are they working with?” Junmyeon asked, “One of ours?”

“That’s the million dollar question” Sehun continued. “How much stock exactly did they take?”

“Jongdae said enough every month that it wouldn’t seem suspicious to whoever it was originally being dealt out too,” Minseok said to him, “It makes sense, we’d notice large quantities going missing, and from the looks of it, they’re using what they did take and thinning down to make it last longer, the girl did say that they stopped turning up.” Minseok looked like he was about to continue but the beeping of his phone cut him off,

“Speak of the devil, he’s just finished doing intake with Yixing at the docks…” Minseok hummed.

“Verdict?” Junmyeon asked, brows furrowed.

“Seems like since yesterday, a few things have gone missing…” Minseok frowned, “Dong-Yul says he doesn’t know anything about it but a few snipers are missing from a shipment that was checked this morning, that and a couple of handguns; along with a few silencers, no ammo though…” Sehun chuckled a bit darkly at that.

“That sounds like a threat if I’ve ever heard one,” Sehun smirked, but it lacked the humour to it, “Sounds like our friends are planning a little heist.” He clocked his head slightly, turning to his brothers.

“Or a take-out job,” Baekhyun hummed, “Silencers...Can’t say we use them unless we want to get someone in public, even at that...”

“It sounds like war to me,” Chanyeol frowned slightly, cutting him off.

“It certainly sounds like the beginning of one,” Baekhyun affirmed, Sehun merely kept smirking; it was a dark smirk that they didn’t see cross his face very often.

“Whatever it is,” Sehun started, crossing his arms over his chest; his suit pulling taught over his arms, “They’ve made the first step, the drugs I could write off, there’s plenty to go around – the firearms though from our stash? That’s fighting talk.” Sehun tutted like you would scold a child.

“Get Yixing and Jongdae back to the house,” Sehun panned to looked at Minseok, who nodded – tapping quickly on his phone.

“Jongin, get dressed – you’re going back to Teardrop tonight, take Baekhyun with you and scope out the place, I want eyes everywhere...” Baekhyun smirked at that, looking at Jongin with amusement. “And stay on task.” That one was aimed at the older brother.

“Our syndicates are getting suspicious,” Sehun tsk’ed softly, walking around the couches to look out his office window, “News spreads fast, and it's already spreading now, they won’t just believe in random stock takes any longer.” Sehun was in his full boss mode, something he’d seen his father do hundreds of times.

“What are we going to do about that?” Kyungsoo asked, frowning slightly as the brothers all looked at each other.

“In still some faith in our family,” Sehun spoke plainly like everyone was just supposed to understand.

“Faith…?” Junmyeon raised an eyebrow, which had Sehun chuckling slightly.

“It seems like no one else doing their job around here, so I suggest we hold a little party soon, have a few… meaningful conversations” Sehun drawled, “And if our little friends decide they want to come… Well, more the merrier.” Sehun could feel the eyes on his back but he had still yet to turn around.

“You want to make yourself the target?” Junmyeon sounded a bit shocked.

“No, you misunderstand me,” Sehun cut in, “I don’t intend to make myself the target, brother…” Looking over his shoulder with a smirk.

“I am already the target.”

Officer Jeon was very quick to accept your wishes of going back to the station, a fire burning in his eyes at the thought of getting information - it unnerved you slightly, but at this point, everything was unnerving you. Junmyeon promised that the police would be taken care of, you vividly remembered that, but you were still being pinned as one of the causes of the shoot-out at Oasis, so really? What could they take care of? It didn’t help that they shoved you into the back of a police cruiser as well, your tired eyes glaring at the back of Officer Jeon’s head, and the other man who you learned was the Commissioner Jung was driving the vehicle but what you found odd was his eyes kept meeting yours – an understanding in his eyes that meant no good to you.

They were treating you as you suspected they would; like a suspect in a crime, but the only thing they hadn’t done was outwardly cuff you yet – but you guessed that had something to do with the fact they found you strapped to a rickety chair. Touching the marks on your wrist you felt seething hate for Sehun and the fact he left you like that, your lungs still feeling the burn of having your breath taken away by the plastic bag – it was a traumatic affair, but still, you couldn’t knock the fact that he apologised before he put you to harm’s way. Sehun didn’t strike you as a remorseful man, you might even go as far to say that sorry isn’t a word that left his mouth at all, but he still apologised – and that didn’t settle well with you. He did also shoot a loaded gun right next to your head after threatening to do that before, but still, his sorry sank your stomach to the oceans floor. Frankly, you were beyond exhausted, but you knew your night was far from over, especially with the police station quickly approaching – you’d only been here once when you were in university after having to pick up a friend who got too much on a night out, but aside from that, you were pretty clean slate.

However, acidity was brewing in your stomach from the car stopping, but it was being cut with the intensity of the situation – the two officers up front were silent as the door next to you opened; a man you didn’t know reaching in and hoisting you out like a criminal. This was the second time tonight that you were being manhandled but like before, it was safer to keep completely quiet. The man was a bit rough with you to the point that you stumbled when you got out the car, Officer Jeon’s voice snapped slightly at that.

“Have a bit of respect, Officer.” You could hear him behind you as the officer that was holding you kept walking – looking up at him, you could see the annoyance on the man’s face.

It took you a second to realise that it was very early morning – probably about 3 am, the brief walk from the car to the inside of the station affirmed to you that everyone around you was hideously tired, the blue-clothed zombies staring at you with annoyed eyes. You had still yet to speak to anyone, but you were taking you silence as a good thing – these men weren’t exactly the most trusting of you.

The foyer to the police station looked like it hadn’t been touched by the modernity of the world yet, the dark wood and contrasting white everything else were an assault on the eyes, so much so that you found yourself squinting from the fluro lights that hung above your head – the man dragging you had yet to introduce himself but you supposed he didn’t need to, you hopefully would never see him again, he or the bratty officer who you were shoved in front of you get your prints taken. She was a snide older woman, her face leathered with the stress of the job and the attitude to match, she had your own had pinching in annoyance at her seemingly nasally voice.

“Left hand please.” She snapped slightly, readying the ink – and glaring at you when you didn’t move, “I said, left hand, please.”

“No.” You furrowed your eyebrows, looking between her and the other officer, “I wasn’t officially arrested, nor have I had my rights read to me, you’re not getting my prints.” You snapped slightly, irate with the fact you’d been through hell tonight and now that?

“Listen, kid,” The other officer snapped back at you, “Either you give her the prints willingly or I do it by force, the choice is yours.” There is was. The words; that phrase everyone kept repeating to you, the illusion of choice you kept being given.

“Don’t call me kid.” You hissed slightly feeling the heat rush to your face, “I have been kidnapped, I have been strapped to a chair and suffocated, and pulled around like a dog for days, either tell me why I need to get this done or let me go.” The vein in your eyelid was throbbing with the intensity of your facial expression.

The awareness that you were acting like a child was minor in the back of your head, but your irritation overruled any form of adult self you had left – you were tired and fed up and at this point? It was all Oh Sehun’s fault, the bastard had put you in this predicament, him and Chanyeol and whoever else he ran with.

The officer you had yelled at looked like he was about to retort when a hand rested on his arm, the familiar face of Officer Jeon coming into your peripheral, you didn’t break eye contact with the other officer, but Jeon spoke anyway.

“I’ll deal with this…” Jeon nodded at the other man, before turning to smile at you – but his smile was met with a blank stare. “Miss…” He cleared his throat nervously.

“Yes?” You were stony with the younger man, stony and far too tired to care at this point.

“Let’s take a few steps back huh?” He kept trying to smile at you, probably to try and ease your anger – but his face only built it up more. “We can talk about it; I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Tell me, Officer,” You gritted your teeth slightly, “Is it common practice to treat someone who hasn’t been arrest as a criminal?” He merely sighed at that.

“Listen, your case is… A special one,” He said lightly, “You’ve been gone for nearly 4 days after being witness to a shooting, we have to take precautions...” You could feel any life leave your eyes at that.

“Be honest with me officer,” You spoke with little to no emotion to it, “Do I seem dangerous to you?” You watched him frown at that.

“Well,” He stuttered slightly, “No ma’am, you don’t.” you smiled tensely at that.

“Then tell me again officer,” You said, “Why do I have to get this done?” You tilted your head at him. He sighed for a second before looking back at his superior, who looked slightly amused at the situation – Commissioner Jung didn’t seem like a man to beat around the bus.

“If I may interject,” The older man said, glancing at you, “I believe the young lady is right,” Your eyebrows raised at that, glancing between the two men. Officer Jeon looked conflicted at that though.

“This isn’t really necessary,” Jung leaned over and whispered to the younger officer, who at that looked a bit taken back.

“But–“ Jeon tried to reason with the older man, who for all that it was worth merely raised his hand to silence him.

Turning around to face you, Commissioner Jung had a smile on his leathery face – he was a much older man than officer Jeon, his age probably equivalent to his title, but for some reason, you couldn’t find it in yourself to trust this man. There was something in his dark eyes that unnerved you slightly, it had been like that since the car ride to the stations, whoever this man was, he wasn’t completely truthful, and you had a feeling that Sehun had something to do with it.

His crinkled faced smiled at you, “Ma’am if you don’t mind, I’d like to take you to an interrogation room?” You merely nodded keeping eye contact with him.

You had a feeling it was going to go like this, as Jeon had said – you had been gone for nearly 4 days and clearly, they knew you were in the hands of a gang if the news report at the rest stop a few days ago was anything to go by. Interrogation, however, was not something you had prepared for – Junmyeon said they’d handle the police and Sehun said that if you told them anything, they’d off you quicker than you could blink, so what were you to do? Jung was the one who was walking you to the interrogation room, and honestly, you hoped to have gone in a cell for a few hours first, to think things over but they were wasting no time. It was freezing in the police station but as you were led deeper, it was like the temperature was purposefully getting lower – you swore you could see your breath in the air at one point. The hallways weren’t lit the best, but it was enough to set you in edge, especially when Jung pull up to a nondescript door.

“After you, Ma’am,” He smiled at you as he opened the door, it was completely fake, but you nodded slightly anyway, walking into the room with a grimace.

Having never been in a room like before, you somehow knew it was going to be like this; dimly lit with concrete brick walls painted in a dull two-tone white and murky green, it was a concrete haven. You shoes clicked slightly on the bare floors but the centrepiece of the room was the large steel table central to it all; it was a dark metal with equally dark metal seats, a loop that was intended to put handcuffs through and a tape player placed haphazardly off to the side. It was a table that was intended for 3 people to sit at but this time it was just you and commissioner Jung, the older man behind you nudging you to sit in the solo seat on the other side of the table.

“Sit,�� He suggested as he took a seat across from where you were intended to sit down, glancing at the obvious mirrored window that always rested off to the side of rooms like this – you sat down, shivering slightly at the coldness of the seat. “Water?” He asked, gesturing to the jug that looked like it had been sitting there for hours.

“No, thank you…” Your voice was quiet as you tried to take in as much of the room as you could, the fluro light that hung above the table weirdly didn’t do much to light the room, but you guessed it was some sort of intimidation tactic.

Commissioner Jung had a file in front of him that he was rifling through as you glanced around, your eyes every so often flicking to the giant double-sided mirror that was the only feature of the drab room. Much like when you met with Sehun in his lovely dining room, you were sitting on your hands, trying to make yourself as small as possible – a stark contrast to your attitude outside, but unlike the towering gang leader; you couldn’t banter with these people. It was almost deafening when Jung reached over to hit record on the tape player, an old-fashioned method but from then on out you knew your words needed to be careful – people were listening now.

“So,” Jung began, glancing at his papers before looking at you, “We’ll start easy… What’s the date today?” He spoke clearly, as you blinked slowly at him confused.

“October 17th…?” You frowned softly, trying to count the days since you’d been gone, he wrote something down at that.

“Can you tell me how long you’ve been gone for?” He asked again, keeping a scary amount of eye contact with you.

“Nearly 4 days,” You nodded, “I was taken on the 13th of October.” He hummed at that.

“Take, that’s right…” He hummed, “Okay, I’ll ask something else, Ma’am – how and why were you taken?” You tried not to let it show but you froze a bit at that.

Sehun had warned you clearly to keep your mouth shut or else, where you expected to just lie for him and his men under police questioning?

“I…” You stuttered slightly, “I don’t know why I was taken…” That much was the truth, although Sehun had given you an answer, you still weren’t quite sure why you were taken.

“But,” You continued, “On the night of the 13th, there was an incident at the bar, men – I don’t know who came in…” You breathed deeply for a second, trying to pick parts out of that night that you’d be able to tell them.

“They had guns,” You nodded, “I don’t know why they were there, it was sorta a blur after the first shot…” Commissioner Jung nodded, before picking up a piece of paper and placing down in front of you – it was a picture of a man you’d never seen before in your life.

“The security tapes show you getting ambushed in the loading bay, is that correct?” Your eye’s narrowed at the man, how looked at you with a glint in his eyes that told you to agree.

“No, that’s no correct and you know it.” You wanted to say.

“Yes.” You lied, “I was getting another keg from the loading bay…” He cut you off.

“When someone ambushed you?” He nodded, “I don’t know if you got a look at him, but is that him?” He reached and tapped the picture, your eyes glanced down at the page as a tension built in your neck.

“I don’t know…” You swallowed, “I didn’t see their face, they covered my face and knocked me out...” Jung hummed again, writing something down.

“Do you have any ties to any gang-related crime?” He asked, looking at you again, “Family? Friends? Colleagues?” He listed off professionally, a stark contrast to what he was saying.

You imagined if someone put a thermometer on your body right now; they think you were unusually warm for such a cold room, the sweat in your palms enough to drown someone at this rate.

“No,” This was the truth, “I don’t talk to my family but they’re a standard bunch, nothing shady… Same with my friends, they’re all normal people…” You nodded, sighing softly.

“What about co-workers?” Jung pressed.

“I wouldn’t know,” You licked your cracking lips, “I never spoke to Jaewoo or Mr Gwan outside of work unless I ran into them or I was called to cover a shift…”

“Was Mr Gwan there the night of the shooting at Oasis?” He leaned back in his chair slightly, you were hyper-aware of his movements at this point.

“No,” Again, not a lie, “It was just me and Jaewoo, I was supposed to lock up for the night, but Mr Gwan isn’t around much…” You moved your hands to rest on the table, the cold metal cooling your flushed skin.

“Okay,” He scribbled something down, “Now... Can you tell me about where you’ve been for the last 4 days?”

“Shit” You screamed in your head; this man had been lying for you but what were you supposed to say?

“Well…” You coughed, thoughts of Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Sehun, running away whizzing around your head as you looked at the table.

“It’s okay,” Jung said with a nod, “Take your time.” Glancing up at him you sighed.

“I’m not sure what happened…” You bit down on your lip, “I was knocked out for most of the first day and the rest… They kept me in the dark.”

“They?” Jung pressed slightly, “There was more than one of them?”

“Yes,” You moved in your chair slightly, “I couldn’t see them, but I could sort of hear them, there was more than one.”

“So, you never knew where you were for the 4 days you were there?” Jung asked, tapping his pen on the table.

“I didn’t know at all,” You were a liar, an ugly liar, “I was kept in a dark room, every few hours someone one would food and water in and that was it…”

“Right…” The man nodded, “And the warehouse, how did you end up there?” You sighed, cracking your knuckles.

“Someone came into the room, forced me to stand up then covered my head with a cloth bag...” You grimaced slightly, “I was put in a car and before I knew it, I was there – strapped to a chair.”

“Did anything happen in the warehouse?” Jung raised an eyebrow.

“No,” you shook your head knowing to keep quiet, “I was just left there, facing the door – I heard movement behind me but that was it.”

“So, they just left you there?” You nodded again at that.

“Yes, they bagged me again before they left…” You quieten down slightly, “I don’t know if they were trying to kill me…” Your voice cracked, that part was true – the plastic bag over your head was terrifying.

“Did they hurt you at all besides that?” Jung pointed to your hands; you bit your tongue in your mouth at that.

“No,” you looked at your bandages, “I fell outside work a few days ago into some glass, but they never hurt me when I was with them, they left me alone.”

“Right…” Jung furrowed his eyebrows, “Only a few more questions left ma’am, then you’re free to go.” You sighed at that, your chest feeling funny.

Looking at you, he slid another piece of paper in front of you; this time it was a blurry photo of two men, squinting your eyes you had to stifle a small gasp; among the pixels, you could make out Baekhyun’s face, it was an old picture because the hair was different but regardless, it was him. The other man in the photo had his back to the camera, but you could tell they were tall, probably Chanyeol; the two of them were always together it seemed, but the photo showed them in a dimly lit parking lot, the light causing the camera to lose any focus it had.

“That photo, do those men look familiar?” You were leaning into the photo to get a better look, but you flicked your eyes up to the officer; there was that glint in his eyes again.

“No,” You lied again, keeping eye contact with the officer, “I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

“So, the name Exodus means nothing to you?” He pressed, raising an eyebrow; the look in his eyes was the same as Sehun’s.

“You sly bastard…” Your mouth opened slightly as you spoke in your head.

“Nothing at all,” You affirmed, “Is that part of the bible?” You questioned; the commissioner chuckled softly at that.

“I think we have everything we need,” Jung nodded, “We’ll be in contact if we need you, the security tapes already show you had nothing to do with this.” It was hasty but you nodded with him.

Quickly taking the paper bag, Jung tucked them into a file along with his nose that he took during questioning; his weathered had reached to turn the recording off as the door to the room opened, Officer Jeon appearing in the doorway looking a bit more frazzled than you had seen him before.

“Ma’am,” He coughed looking at the two of you with a soft smile, it was forced but you welcomed it for once.

“Your boyfriend is here.”

Crunch.

Sehun’s body moved with the momentum of the punch as he internally winced at the feeling of his skin hitting bone, but he didn’t drawback at all – taking some sort of sick satisfaction at the vision of his newest captive’s head flinging back with a grunt. Byung-Chul was a mess, his face bloodied and raw, and the previous hit had just done a magnificent job at breaking his nose.

“I’ll ask again,” Sehun stood back to his full height, shaking off his hand; which in the short time they’ had been down there had gone from milky smooth skin to a blistering mess of red and torn skin, “Who are you working for?” Sehun inquired again, raising his brows when Byung-Chul spat his blood on the floor very close to Sehun’s shoes, it only landed the man another bunch, Sehun grunting with the force of his swing.

To some, Sehun was visually the vision of calm; even though his suit that he’d normally wear had been deconstructed to just a simple yet expensive white shirt and slacks with his hair, while slightly dishevelled, was still pretty much pushed back away from his face. He looked more fit to be at a party or an expensive restaurant than in his basement trying to information from a lowly gang member but here he was, looking at his latest captive with contempt. It took a quick a glance and a nod from Baekhyun, who was resting at the corner of the drab room, for Sehun to roll his eyes; his large hand reaching out to grasp the hair on Byung-Chul’s head.

“You know,” Sehun was right next to the man’s face, his fist tightening in his hair as the man whimpered slightly at the pull; Sehun wasn’t holding back with this captive, “The longer you stay silent the harder I’m going to hit you, do you want that?” Sehun looking down at the man with a mocking look; his dark brows raised like he was giving a choice.

“I’m waiting,” Sehun whispered darkly, yanking the man’s hair for good measure; but when he received silence, he flung his head forward away from him, the chair he was in shaking with the force.

Standing up to his full height again, Sehun paced around Byung-Chul; his hands clasped behind his back in thought, his face was stern with stress and slight anger, so that thought that he had slowly dissipated as he quickly swivelled back around, gearing his long leg back before the heel of his leather shoe dug itself into the gunshot wound on Byung-Chul’s leg in a very swift kick. This time Byung-Chul howled for the first time in hours, his yelp reverbing off the concrete walls and into everyone’s ears – from the corner of his eye, Sehun could see Chanyeol even flinch at the thought of getting a hard sole in a fresh gunshot wound. But how his men felt about the situation was redundant to him.

“Talk.” Sehun snapped at the man whose tears were disgustingly mixing with his blood after leaking from his puffed eyes, “I have all day, but do you?” Sehun taunted crouching down to be eye level with the man.

“Who are you working for,” Sehun reiterated, one of his hands sliding into his back pocket to grasp something, his long fingers grasping onto cool metal “I won’t ask you again.”

Byung-Chul in all his battered glory stared him down, “They’ll kill me.” He rasped.

“I’ll kill you,” Sehun reminded him, tutting slightly but surprised he said anything after 3 hours of beatings.

“They’ll kill me…” Byung-Chul grated out again, before leaning his face closer to his old boss locking what he could of his eyes to Sehun’s, “And then they’ll kill you.” He spat.

It took a second for the words to settle over Sehun but as soon as they did his hand was whipping out of his pocket and the knife he was holding was impaled into Byung-Chul’s leg – the force of the action causing it to slide all the way through his leg and into the wood of the chair on the other side. Byung-Chul’s eyes bulged for a second in shock before he screamed out, his head tipping back in agony, but it only caused his leg to pull on the metal that was now a part of it, the blood gushing from his leg and dripping onto the floor below; a puddle slowly building.

“Sit tight, Byung-Chul,” Sehun smirked at the man, patting the sobbing man on the back at his stool straight, “We’ll talk again soon.” He ended with before the taller man was walking out the room with all the grace of a king.

Baekhyun and Chanyeol who had been quietly observing the session the whole time filed out after him, their captive yelling out his pain to no one now. The heavy metal door slammed behind the three of them as they exited, the theatrics of the room washing off them much like Sehun was washing the blood off his hands in the small sink the kept in the basement.

“Well,” Baekhyun sniped, “That was woefully unfulfilling,” He scoffed planting himself on a table that was filled with various instruments they would often use for the people in the room they were just in.

Sehun was too busy looking the mixture of blood washing down the sink to bother to respond to Baekhyun’s comment; his jaw a bit tense at he watched the ivory sink turn a nasty shade of pink, luckily Chanyeol did the talking for him.

“Maybe,” Chanyeol was leaning against the stairs that led out the basement, “But it confirmed that whoever he’s working for is making Sehun the target.” Baekhyun hummed at that.

“But why?” Baekhyun pondered, “He’s keeping pretty tight-lipped for someone who ran a bar and just happened to smuggle and sell drugs in his spare time.” Sehun was shaking his hands off in the sink before he turned around.

“Money, probably, that or blackmail,” Sehun gravelled out, “Always the motives to keep quiet,” He leaned against the sink, uncaring if anything he was wearing got wet.

“So far, we have only him and your little bartender who knows what this new guy looks like,” Baekhyun was swinging his legs on the edge of the table like a child, an oxymoron to the conversation they were having, “No security tapes, no one else knows that he or his men look like.” Sehun sighed at that. “That…” Sehun trailed off, “Is something that I’m currently dealing with.” Chanyeol raised his eyebrow.

“How? You left the girl suffocating to death, I doubt she’ll want to help you now,” Chanyeol spat out, Baekhyun whistled lowly at that a small smirk on his face, “And that idiot in there won’t say anything, so where does that leave us?”

“Someone’s got an attitude today,” Baekhyun was back to his Cheshire cat ways, which had Sehun rolling his eyes at the two of them.

“Down boy,” Sehun drawled to Chanyeol, “The girl’s alive, you can rest easily” He rolled his eyes while looking at his watch.

“If I timed it right, she should be at the police station now,” He hummed, “But where she is, is no concern to you – I’ve got plans for the girl yet.”

“Didn’t you go out of your way to call her useless?” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at him. “Why drag her into this?”

“Yes,” Sehun locked eyes with him, as Baekhyun sat with a shit-eating grin at the tension, “And at the time, she was useless.” He tweaked his eyebrow at him

“What changed,” Chanyeol challenged his boss.

“Baekhyun already said, she knows what this new guy looks like,” Sehun spoke plainly to him, not taking his challenge although he could see it clearly, “That’s useful to me now.”

“She’s not your pawn,” Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrowed.

“And she’s nothing to do with you either,” Sehun retorted back.

Although Chanyeol would never admit it to anyone in the room, the brief moments he spent with you touched him in a way he hadn’t felt in a while – it wasn’t romantic in the slightest, but he felt a sense of protection over you. It was stupid considering he hadn’t known you that long, but watching you talk and just be as you have sparked a sense of longing in him – a longing for normality and just a state of being where he didn’t have to worry about watching his boss pummel someone to pieces.

“Why do you care?” Sehun tilted his head at his brother.

All while this was happening Baekhyun was sat off to the side living up the drama unfolding in front of him – they never did give him the credit but Baekhyun was an observer, he may be a loudmouth but it was moments like this he could just sit and watch, take everything in for later use.

“I don’t,” Chanyeol lied.

“Really?” Sehun laughed slightly, but there wasn’t much to the laugh, “Your tone would say otherwise”

“I’m just curious how you’re using her, that’s all.” Chanyeol snapped back, his body tense, Sehun chuckled slightly at that standing up from the sink.

“Don’t worry yourself with my matters, Chanyeol,” Sehun hummed, “Do the jobs your given and leave the girl to me.”

Walking towards the stairs there was an air of a smirk still on Sehun’s face, the tired man making his way back up to civilisation so that he could sleep in peace but not before playfully clapping Chanyeol on the back, glancing at him over his shoulder as he ascended the wooden panels back into his home.

“Electric Kiss could use a new bartender, no?”

The confusion was clear as day on your face as Jeon uttered the words; Boyfriend, but you got up regardless with a nod, following the young man out as your brain wracked every possible person it could be. The police station was just the same as it was when had entered the room, only this time in the foyer was a tall blonde and one that you hadn’t seen in months.

He was still the same pixie-like man you’d known before, except with longer blonde hair and a grimace painted on his usually neutrally happy face.

“Jeonghan…” you breathed, with confusion written all over your face, even though you were quiet, that still managed to get his attention.

The stress physically melted off his face as you walked carefully to him with officer Jeon behind you, but when you were close enough he managed to catch you off guard to pull you to him, your body jumping in freight; the thud of you hitting his chest was all you and felt heard as he practically smothered you.

“Jesus,” He cried, pulling you close as you stood there frozen in time, just sort of smashed to his chest, “You’re alright,” He said before he pulled you back with his hands on your arms to get a proper look at you; his eyebrows pulling slightly at the state of you.

“You are alright?” He looked you in the eye much like a mother would if they were coddling but you merely nodded back to him, a bit too shocked to speak.

It seemed like Jeonghan was going to do all the talking to you, as he brushed past you slightly to shake Officers Jeon’s hand; the man looking a bit confused but taking his hand anyway as the many thank you’s spilt from his lips. Jeonghan was always a worrier but you were confused to why the worrier that you thought had left your life was suddenly back here now. Officer Jeon looked a bit awkward as he distanced himself from the two of you, merely smiling politely at Jeonghan before turning to you with the same kindness he’d shown you all night.

“We’ll be in contact if we need anything else,” Officer Jeon looked at you before sending you a pleasant smile, the young man leaving you and you boyfriend in the foyer together.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Jeonghan smiled at you, taking your arm gently to lead you out into the cold, you were still in a bit of shock at what was going on but as you felt the bite of the stinging air you suddenly snapped out of it.

“Jeonghan, why are you here?” You asked stopping completely on the pavement outside the police station, “How did you know I’d be here? Did he send you?” You accused clearly paranoid.

“Y/n, no one sent me…” He sighed softly, “Let’s just get to the car first, okay?” He tried to reason with you, but you shook your head.

“No, why are you here? You asked a bit incredulously staring him down, “Why did you tell them you were my boyfriend?”

“The station called me,” He raised his hands in defence trying to ease you a bit, “My number was still down as your emergency contact, from that hospital visit last year, they called me once they realised you were gone…you’ve been gone for four days.” His voice was gentle as always, speaking to you much like you would speak to a child how was throwing a tantrum.

Getting a proper look at him, your heart clenched slightly as you realised, he was still in his work clothes; his typical hospital uniform was a stark contrast to his skin tone, he’d gone out of his way to be here.

“All of your friends were calling me asking if I’d seen the news or heard from you and I see you’ve been involved in a shooting?” He furrowed his brows with stress, “Then I randomly get a call from the police saying that they’ve found you and that they’d like me to come down to the station to pick you up? It’s more of a question of what the hell have you been up to?” He snapped at you.

You looked at him and for a brief second you could feel your body deflate; your hands reaching up to wipe over your face as you physically felt the stress start to take over your body – Jeonghan didn’t have to come here and that was clear but your breath was still shaky as you tried to calm down a bit. The scratch of the bandages across your face as you dragged your hands down them didn’t phase you one bit as you looked at your companion with glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just…” You stuttered softly, looking around; after 4 days of just mental mishandling, you found yourself finally breaking, your voice cracking slightly as you bubbled up.

Placing your hands over your eyes again you mentally ran through the list of people that you blamed for all of this; Sehun making his grand appearance top of the list and much to your distaste, you found yourself wishing that maybe you would have been better getting offed like Jaewoo had, the mental image of him laying there glaring at you with his lifeless eyes very much ingrained into your memory forever. In your despair, you could feel a hand tugging your arm gently, your body this time welcoming the warmth the hug brought; Jeonghan was shushing you softly as you let some tears leak from your eyes for the first time in a few days.

“It’s okay,” He hushed you softly, rubbing the back of your head tenderly as you weaved your arms around his waist, “You’re okay now…” Your shoulders were shaking not just of the cold anymore, but the overwhelming emotion that had been bubbling up within you the last couple days.

You weren’t sure when Jeonghan started leading you back to his car but before you knew it he was gently making you sit down in his passenger seat, before quickly jogging around to the driver’s side – his car was a lot warmer than the outside that you felt yourself melting into his seats, your eyes glaring at the interior that you hadn’t sat in for a long time. The door slamming didn’t have you looking at him but his sigh as he started the ignition did – his gentle voice melodically running through the vehicle.

“You don’t have to talk to me about it, but what happened…?” He probed you lightly, glancing at you as he turned on the car but didn’t put it into drive, he was met with your imminent silence however as you opted to look at his dashboard and the little trinkets that he kept there for memories sake.

“Silence, okay…” He sighed leaning back in his seat, running his hand through his long hair – his blonde hair now touching his chin, a far cry longer than the last time you’d seen him, “Look, about the boyfriend thing…” He began tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, a nervous habit of his.

“They just called me and asked if I was since I was your only emergency contact, I agreed because I know you don’t have an immediate family in the city…” He explained softly, as your eyes drifted from the little figure that usually danced in the sun to him, “I don’t want you to think that I’m trying anything, I swear...” You sighed softly.

“It’s okay, Jeonghan…” You mumbled, “I was just surprised that’s all, it’s been a while, no?” You tried to smile but you imagined that it looked a lot more pained than happy.

He only hummed with a smile as you put the car into drive, “It has been a while…”

Once upon a time, you’d feel a sense of love when he’d pick you up from random places; back when the two of you were pathetically naive and hoped that you’d last through it all because, in your heads, you’d know each other so long why couldn’t you last a lifetime? But now, you just felt a small ache in your chest looking at you, it was an ache that wasn’t at the forefront anymore, but it was still there like you assumed it would always be for someone that you used to love. Because as the police had guessed, Jeonghan was your boyfriend at one point – it something that had ended last year after trying too hard to make it work for many years, but he was there in your life at one point as a significant other. Looking at him driving you home, you wondered if he felt the same way that you did being in the car with him? The two of you didn’t end off badly but you also didn’t end off on the best foot, he as you had expected him to, had put his work before you – he was also a doctor in training so it was a given, but sometimes you could still feel the stick of hearing that someone you loved wasn’t whiling to put you before something.

It was a childish breakup on your part, one steeped in insecurity since at the time you weren’t sure what you were doing with your life – to be with someone so set on their goals was a lot to handle and while now you weren’t sure still, you had matured enough to know that people don’t always get put first, other things do matter. Jeonghan didn’t bother to try and press more questions out of you or force you to answer anything, he merely just drove back to your apartment in silence.

The police station wasn’t that far from your apartment building, but the drive felt never-ending as you kept your eyes on your ex-boyfriend; he looked nice in the early winter morning, nice and a lot more tired than you remembered, you felt bad that he had to come to pick you up – as much as you loved your other friends, you knew none of them would pick up the call from a random number. It was just dawning on you that since you’d been let go by Sehun, you didn’t have any of your possession; your phone, wallet etc were all in their possession and would you ever get those back? Sehun had made it very clear that he never wanted to see you again, you were nothing in the problem he was currently having. The jolting of the car pulled you back to reality as you realised that Jeonghan had parked at the back of the building where Baekhyun and Chanyeol found you – the car that you stole was nowhere to be found, even though you were still wearing the man’s jacket.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” Jeonghan asked softly, “You do have to if you don’t want too, I can call someone for you if you’d like?” He quickly added

“Jeonghan,” You said softly, smiling slightly, “It’s okay, you can walk me up...” You said gently, almost as you were soothing him.

“Are you sure?” He frowned softly taking the keys out the ignition, you chuckled faintly unbuckling your seat belt.

“Yes,” You said opening the door, “Now come on.”

It was cute to see him scurry out the car to catch up with you, but you were powerwalking to the building door; grunting softly as you shouldered it to open it.

“They still haven’t got that fixed?” You could hear the amused tone in his voice as you scoffed.

“No, I just like shouldering heavy doors for fun,” You rolled your eyes, holding the door for him to walk past you; you smiled faintly as you caught a whiff of his aftershave, the comforting smell he used was still there. “Does that mean the elevator is still out too?” He questioned looking at the metal contraption.

“No, that works” You sighed softly, walking to the piece of trash that most of the time actually didn’t work, “I just don’t trust it.” You confirmed pressing the up button, hearing the fowl ding that it screeched out.

The two of you stood there in silence side by side as you watch the numbers of the elevator countdown to the lobby floor, the peeling paint around the thing wasn’t the most appealing but it was expected considering you lived in an 8 story pile of shit.

“I thought you were going to move,” Your face physically hardened listening to him break the silence, remembering that you were going to move with him.

“Couldn’t afford it,” You gritted out slightly, “Especially can’t afford it now, my work did just get shot up.” Jeonghan winced slightly as you snapped.

“Sorry…” He mumbled as the elevator opened up, the pale-yellow light bouncing off the walls of the confined box, showing all the shitty graffiti and the deprecation of it.

You rolled your eyes as you stepped into the death box, your arms wrapping your stolen jacket tightly around you, reaching out you nudged the button for the 5th floor and listened to the monotonous lady in the speaker announce that the doors were now closing. Jeonghan was lent against the other side of the space, watching your forward-facing body with curiosity; he looked out of place in the elevator to hell, too clean and too put together to belong in something so decrepit.

“Where did you get the jacket?” He nodded to the jacket that was clearly 3 sizes too big for you, breaking the silence again.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” You mumbled, tapping your foot impatiently.

“Try me,” Jeonghan smiled softly as the doors opened, his thin frame bypassing you and out the metal jaws to the hallway.

Shaking your head, you followed him out, watching your breath dance in the cold air of the hallway – why you chose a building where all the halls were balcony’s you’ll never know but it made living here so much colder. Jeonghan and his long legs were already at your front door, looking at you with a fond smile as you trudged down the hallway.

“Do you have a way to get in?” He quizzed looking at the old piece of wood.

“Yes,” You grumbled, reaching down to lift the slab of concrete next to your door; fingers plucking out your spare key like it was a treasure.

Jeonghan was just staring at you as the door opened, his lip drawn between his teeth like he wanted to stay something – you, however, were looking into your apartment, grimacing slightly at the last time you were here. It hadn’t looked like it had been touched, so the police hadn’t been here, but you wondered if anyone else had been? Sehun and his men had your keys after all. Walking in, you kicked off your shoes with a sigh – the ache in your legs from wearing your boots disappearing as your feet settled into some slippers. Jeonghan was just waiting by the door, however, leaned against the frame looking at you.

“I’m not too keen on leaving you on your own, honestly,” He said as you tossed your jacket off, the feeling of his eyes very present on the back of your head.

“If that’s your way of asking to stay you just have to say so,” You grumbled, looking over your shoulder at him, tweaking an eyebrow, “Just come inside, you’re letting a draft in” You sounded like a grandmother as you pattered your way away from him and into your small kitchen, your body stopping suddenly at the door at something on your counter.

“I’m just going to use your restroom,” You heard behind you as you grunted in response.“I’ll make us some tea, just make yourself comfortable,” You stuttered softly, trying not to give anything away but you were tentative as you took a step closer, sending a small smile over your shoulder for good measure.

The lights were off, but you could see a large cylindrical object sitting on the counter – something balanced on top of it. It didn’t look deadly, but you took slow steps towards it anyway, your fingers deftly reaching out to touch it and you jumped back slightly when you felt cold glass come into contact with your fingers.

“What the…” You mumbled confused as you walked back to the door to turn on the lights, your brows furrowing.

Sitting on your counter was your tip jar from the bar, but only this time it was stuffed to the brim with money, you were practically vibrating as you approached it again. You could see through the glass the various bills that filled it, a lot more than you have probably made while working there – and perched on top of it all was a cream envelope, your name very neatly written on the front. Sliding the card out of it, you gulped softly as you read the note, the writing on it practised and neat to the eye.

‘A small compensation for your troubles – KJM’

Your eyes bulged reading the note, your fingers flipping the card around to see if anything else was written – it was clear apart from the writing and a symbol on the back, the same one that Baekhyun had engraved onto the butt of this gun. The flushing of the toilet had you jumping back to life as you quickly scooped the jar up, eyes widening at how heavy it was before shoving it into a random cupboard just in time.

“Everything okay?” Jeonghan asked from the door, as you whirled around forcing a smile on your face.

“Yeah of course!” You yelped out of panic, “Just wondering where I put that tea that I like that’s all” You lied, leaning against the counter, Jeonghan only shook his head at you, walking into the kitchen.

“I’ll get the water; you find your tea.” He was already making his way to your kettle when you asked something else.

“Is the couch okay with you?”

Honestly, waking up the next again morning felt like a dream, being back in your own bed for the first time in days and getting to look at your dull ceiling while listening to your neighbour’s shower through the walls was the height of mundanity but it was your comfort and while these were very real things – looking around your room you were pulled back into a sense of reality. It was about 6 hours since you fell asleep and the sun was prevalent in the sky – it was the first time you saw proper sunlight in days, but it was also your first day not such in a shitty little room with a bunch of people keeping you captive, it was refreshing but also terrifying.

Jeonghan and yourself weren’t up long last night talking, the two of you merely having a cup of tea while he told you about his day – he wasn’t someone you’d expect to have in your apartment again and for a second you did feel a bit normal but as your parted ways and he took residence on your couch you were reminded that this wasn’t the life that you thought it was. Right now, you were broke and out of job – you had decided that you were going to touch the money that had been left for you, not knowing where it had come from and that killed you inside, but today was a new day, and it was a day that you knew you’d need to spend job hunting.

As expected, your body ached when you eventually sat up in bed, your hand reaching to your throat which felt tight and dry; your body had truly spent the last few days going through it, and Jeonghan let you know that when he decided that before you went to bed that he’d clean up the wounds that you’d gained from your forest stunt properly; his professional hands cleaning up your own. He didn’t touch Chanyeol’s handy work on your knees, but you could see the confusion at the bandages being done a lot better than the ones than you had done, but still, nothing was said – it was confusing with him already.

You were a mess when you finally got out of bed, your pyjamas scrunched from the semi-sleepless night you had and your head thumping with a migraine from an empty stomach; it had taken you about 2 hours to fall asleep, your mind too busy to suppress the thoughts of the last few days, and you were feeling it now, but sleeping again wasn’t an option, the clock on your wall telling you it was 1 PM. You felt sluggish moving around your room, picking up an old sweatshirt to pull on to cover yourself from your guest but when you did eventually open your bedroom door it was a bit of a waste.

“Jeonghan…” You furrowed your brows looking out into the living room before listening out for the shower.

Silence.

A part of you wanted to feel upset over the fact he’d just up and left you, and a part of you wanted to be a bit angry that he didn’t bother to leave a note; but the main part of you just felt the tingle that you were alone again, his neatly folded blanket and pillow resting gracefully on the edge of the couch. For felt like someone who had lost their love as you sat on the couch touching the blanket softly – even though a bit of time had passed since you broke up, being around him again was nice, Jeonghan could make you feel at ease. Before you could get caught up in your heartbreak, your stomach did the talking for you and you decided that it was probably best to eat something – the cold floor of your kitchen seeping through your socked feet as you set about making something to eat.

A cup of tea and a large omelette later, you sat down at your small dining table and looked at the junk mail that was piling on the other end of it; a few bills and student loans glaring you in the sea of beige envelopes, getting a job was something you were going to have to do quickly – your bank account wouldn’t sustain you longer, not that you had a debit or credit card to use considering you were walletless. You felt satisfied when you pushed your plate away from you, thoroughly stuffed with food and your cold fingers clinging to whatever heat your mug could provide for you that you almost didn’t consider getting up when the door killed your silence. Three quick knocks pulled you from your comfort; glancing at the time you were a bit confused at who it could be, but you placed your mug down anyway; glancing at the counter you snagged a small knife just in case.

Tiptoeing to the door, you cursed slightly as you remembered that your door didn’t have a peephole, but you rested you hand on the doorknob anyway, taking a deep breath you readied yourself, the knife behind your back as you flung the door open, your face falling as you saw sight at who it was.

“You.” You seethed as the clunk of the knife dropping behind you sounded out, your eyes narrowing on the person on the other side of the door.

“Uh… Me?” Chanyeol was confused for a second at your response, but it was quickly wiped off his face with your fist lashed out; landing straight on his nose as his head ricocheted back with a yell sounding out his mouth in shock.

Truthfully, your grievances weren’t with Chanyeol at all; there were with his boss, but the difference was that he was here and Sehun was not.

“Fuck.” Chanyeol yelled holding his nose with a wince before looking at you, “What was that for.” He yelled at you, holding his nose in one hand and a bag in the other, the rustle of it prevalent as he gestured wildly.

You glared at him, looking around the hallway before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside the apartment – the door slamming behind him as you shoved the grown man into your place.

“What was that for?” You snapped, pushing him a bit, “You left me to die, you asshole.” His eyes widened slightly but you kept going.

“Pushing me around,” You pushed him again, “Telling me what to do,” Another push, you were pushing him further into the apartment in anger like a crazed woman.

“What the hell was all that,” You shoved him one last time in anger, your chest heaving with exertion as you tried to rip a hole in him with your eyes.

Chanyeol was shocked, to say the least, his eyes wide as plates as you took in your anger; you had been obviously very timid the last time he’d seen you, but it looked like this whole thing had caused you to truly snap.

“Okay, let’s calm down…” He tried to be diplomatic as he wiped the small trail of blood from his nose, you could throw a punch, “I’ll explain, just don’t push me again.” He grumbled placing the bag on a random chair.

Junmyeon was the diplomat of everyone, he did the talking; Chanyeol was often just the muscle that talked with his fists and guns, and if this was anyone else, they’d be floored for touching him. But obviously looking down at you, he could tell your anger was justified.

“Talk.” You demanded, jaw set; you reminded him a bit of Sehun at that moment, it wasn’t often that he got angry but when he did it was terrifying. Except, when you scolded him it felt like a sister or a friend, Sehun could probably take off his head.

“Okay, listen,” He raised his hands, “What happened in the warehouse, I did know that we were going to use you as bate like that, but!” He pointed his finger cutting you off as you looked like you were about to shout at him again.

“But I didn’t know they were going to do that to you!” He quickly continued, “I didn’t know about them planning to bag you like that, my orders were just to get you in the car quietly and take Byung-Chul out, I swear!” Chanyeol yelped as you launched a pillow at him.

“You’re still an asshole,” Your voice had quieted slightly but you still sounded pissed.

“If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at Baekhyun and Sehun.” Chanyeol tried to reason with you, “I had no part in the planning, I promise” You pointed your finger at him looking like you wanted to saw more before it curled back into your fist, your mouth set into a thin line.

“Why are you here,” You touched your head softly, grimacing.

“I have a few gifts,” He said a bit softer, gesturing to the bag asking if he could reach into it; to which to nodded. Grabbing the dark plastic, he pulled out a box holding it out to you; your eyes registering it as a new phone as you gaped slightly.

“Why are you giving me this…” You frowned, it was the newest model and it recognised it as expensive instantly.

“Junmyeon,” Chanyeol shrugged like it was nothing, “Also Kyungsoo had to take apart your old one just in case anyone tried to track it.” He added as you politely took the box out his hand.

“I…Thank you,” You were still frowning but Chanyeol just reached into the bag, pulling out your wallet and shaking it at you, “Believe this is yours as well,” He tossed it to you, which you barely caught.

“I didn’t think I’d get any of this back,” Your eyes were a bit wide as you looked at the wallet still in perfect condition.

“You almost didn’t,” Chanyeol hummed at you, “Baekhyun was a bit salty you stole that money from him and almost took what you had, Junmyeon stopped him though don’t worry,” He frowned slightly at your shocked face.

“Also,” He reached into the bag, holding a document out to you, “Read this carefully,” He sighed.

“Why?” You questioned, looking at the fancy manila envelope – it was matt black with silver detailing’s, a tiny silver lightning bold embossed into the middle of it.

“Just read it and turn up to Electric Kiss tomorrow at 3 pm,” Chanyeol didn’t look happy at telling you that but you gaped at him.

“Electric kiss? That fancy club on the Upper-East side?” You looked like you were about to catch flies with your mouth, “Why do I have to turn up there.” Chanyeol scoffed softly.

“Another one of Junmyeon’s acts of kindness,” He lied to you, but you didn’t have to know that, “Your first shift is tomorrow, someone will let you in.”

“What,” You squeaked, your eyes wide as plates now, “Why is he doing this for me?”

“Let’s just say, Junmyeon likes to keep all his cards together,” Chanyeol’s lips pursed together in a look you couldn’t place, it was vague, but you nodded anyway.

“I…” You stuttered slightly before you got yourself together, “Thank you…” you nodded honestly, Chanyeol only shrugging in response.

“It’s no big deal,” Chanyeol smiled slightly before a small silence fell on the two of you, but Chanyeol didn’t look like he wanted that.

“How are you doing?” He asked honestly, brows pulling together slightly, “Considering everything?” you sighed.

“I am…” You struggled for words slightly, not sure how you really felt, “I’m alright, just everything is a bit much, I had to talk to the police and –,“ He cut you off.

“Don’t worry, I already know about that” Chanyeol smiled at you slightly, “I’m glad you’re okay, honestly,” He nodded looking sincere.

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” You winced, noticing his kept wiping blood from his nose and his eye was looking a bit red, “I just panicked that’s all,” He waved his hand.

“No no,” He started, “I get it, I would have done the same thing,” He chuckled.

“Next time just don’t swing your fist,” He explained, “You’ll never know who’s behind the door,” You laughed softly at that.

“Shame you weren’t Sehun or Baekhyun then huh?” You tried to joke but the sound of the lock turning had you furrowing your eyebrows.

Chanyeol sensing your confusing reached for something in the band of his jeans, his face turning slightly as he kept an eye on the door; his arm reached out like he was about to usher you behind him but you nearly dropped everything in your arms at the sight of the blonde from earlier walking through your door with a bag.

“Jeonghan, what are you doing here?!” You jumped, looking at him a bit shocked; Chanyeol glancing between the two of you with his brows stitched together.

Jeonghan was in different clothes than before and looked a bit more put together than last night, but his face was confused as yours as he glanced between you and Chanyeol; who still had his arm in front of you.

“I noticed last night your fridge looked a bit empty, so I ran home to get changed and get you some groceries before my shift…” He placed the bags by the door as he kept his eyes on you and Chanyeol, “Who’s this?” Jeonghan locked eyes with Chanyeol who looked like he was staring him down.

“Oh, this is Chan…” You were cut off by Chanyeol who glanced at you, straightening up.

“Someone that needs to go,” He answered for you, glancing at you before locking eyes with Jeonghan.

“Sorry, I can’t stay and meet your friend,” Chanyeol walked to the door, quickly brushing past Jeonghan before tossing over his shoulder, “Remember what I said,” He left you with that before he parted, not bothering to say goodbye.

Jeonghan, who had been following Chanyeol with eyes looked very concerned as he turned back to you, “He wasn’t bothering you was he?” To which you shook your head.

“No,” You told him honestly, looking at the now shut door with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s my friend, he was just dropping by…”

In a perfect world, Sehun imagined that his men were perfectly well-mannered people who did as they were told and didn’t act like idiots – but sadly Sehun lived in a reality where his men where his brothers and most of them acted like complete fools who just happened to know how to do their job.

“She did WHAT,” Baekhyun howled with laugher as the 9 of them sat in the large parlour of the compound in the late afternoon, talking and trying to unwind a bit from the last few days; most of them had finally got some well-needed sleep as well.

“She hit me,” Chanyeol grumbled annoyed as he held an icepack to his nose, Sehun was watching his men play around with from his chair; a glass of whiskey glued to hand but even he smiled at that.

“Dude, she’s smaller than you,” Minseok snickered slightly into his drink, “How did she manage that.”

“She just opened the door and…” Chanyeol mimicked a punching motion as Baekhyun smirked wildly from beside Yixing, the latter laughing softly at his younger brothers; his posture much the same as Sehun’s.

“I’ve seen you take out two grown men and you get taken out by her?” Kyungsoo scoffed softly, an amused look on his face; something that all of them tended to reserve for Chanyeol, “Make it make sense?” He smiled.

“Did she at least take the gifts?” Junmyeon asked, sitting off to Sehun’s left with Jongdae, who as always decided to just listen to his brother bicker, Jun had opted to have a cup of coffee than something stronger.

“Yes,” Chanyeol grumbled, sinking into the couch he was on Jongin patting him on the back slightly with a smile, “She was a bit confused, but she at least knew where the bar was so…”

“Make’s our job easier,” Baekhyun chuckled downing his drink, “And you get to see her in that lovely bar uniform we have,” He raised his eyebrows suggestively at Chanyeol who rolled his eyes.

“Remind me why I left you in charge of Electric Kiss?” Sehun hummed softly to his brother who was surprisingly happy today.

“Because I throw an amazing party,” Baekhyun grinned, “You’re utilising my talents.” Sehun rolled his eyes at that.

“Talents,” He scoffed, placing his drink on his side table, “It doesn’t take a genius to throw a party,” He eased into his chair.

“You know what fun is?” Minseok jeered slightly but it had no ill intent to it, Baekhyun laughed at that.

“Please, he’s has a stick up there for years,” Baekhyun grinned, “Your little socialite not scratching your itch anymore?” Baekhyun had a look in his eyes, something Sehun nonverbally warned him to cut it out with a look, but alas the man kept going.

“Your little bartender will be working the VIP section, your favourite spot,” Baekhyun looked almost evil as he smirked, “Maybe you can talk to her like a man, I think you’d make a thrilling pair… That’s if Chanyeol doesn’t beat you too it.” His eyes filtered to the other man as he spoke.

Sehun had been putting up with Baekhyun’s teasing for hours now, while he made up scenarios about how things were going to go down, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say that you weren’t attractive, it was something he noticed back in the bar when he first met you; you had the bite that intrigued him, but as everyone knew by now, Sehun’s life was being put on the line here by some mysterious new gang, thinking about being with anyone wasn’t something he was thinking about. But Baekhyun was determined to play some sort of matchmaker, even if both parties where not whiling – he knew he was trying to get on Sehun’s ego by using Chanyeol as a potential opponent, but the smaller man couldn’t be more wrong about how Sehun was feeling.

“Good luck,” Chanyeol cut in, “She’s got a boyfriend,” That didn’t phase Baekhyun, however.

“Interesting…” Sehun thought to himself, trying to imagine who your type of person would be, you seemed a bit too fiery to be with someone timid.

“Oh, how the plot thickens,” He sang slightly as Yixing nudged him with a smile to cut it out.

“Surely he must have been worried,” Yixing cut into the conversation, “Did he not question why you were there?” Yixing gave off the aura of being worried about Chanyeol but Sehun knew that he was thinking of whoever this was could potentially be a threat, vengeful boyfriends were the worse.

“He just returned from getting her groceries,” He rolled his eyes, while Baekhyun playfully cooed.

“Whoever he is,” Junmyeon hummed, “He better not get involved with what’s going on, you think she told him anything?” Sehun laughed softly at that.

“I think she knows fine well to keep quiet,” Sehun smirked softly, taking a sip of his drink; remembering his last warning in his dining room.

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought of you since he left you in that warehouse, but he did get questioned about what he whispered to you; he remembered his apology before he left you with a bag over your head, and for a second he wondered if he really did mean it, you hadn’t done anything to wrong him. Yes, you were just a bit difficult to handle, but you hadn’t done anything asides blow the window out his car, and that sure as hell wasn’t something you smothered someone with a bag over.

“His name’s Jeonghan or something,” Chanyeol sighed softly, as Baekhyun took in that information, a tiny smile building upon his face.

“Duly noted…”

Eventually, the time you had with Jeonghan was cut short, as he had to go to work for the next day or so – his attention being required elsewhere as your attention made the day turn into the night very quickly. Truthfully, even though you were confused at the opportunity given to you; you couldn’t help but be a bit giddy at the thought of your new job, Junmyeon knew some very powerful people if he managed to get you a job at the prestigious ‘Electric Kiss’ it was bar notorious for hosting the richest people in the city, and while it wasn’t a career you still saw it as an opportunity to use. You were that giddy that you turned up to the bar half an hour early, wearing your most appropriate skirt and top that you could muster – it wasn’t the designer stuff that people here wore but it was still nice.

‘Electric Kiss’ was a modern bar that had themes of vintage Europe running through it; from the black, white and silver colour scheme to the 1920s style French canopy’s that lined the outside, it had a very expensive feel to it. The document that Chanyeol gave you, had a small rundown of what you’d be doing, and you found out that things like uniform etc would be provided for you, it was just the case of having the confidence to knock on the front door. It took a second of deliberating but eventually, you bit the bullet and gave two swift knocks, only a second passing before the heavy black wood door opened to reveal a very pretty but very intimidating woman on the other side.

“You must be Y/N?” She questioned as you took her in, she was gorgeous; she had a gentle but also very strong face and an extremely pleasing voice to listen to.

“Yeah, that’s me…” You gulped slightly as the woman suddenly smiled her whole face lighting up, welcoming you instantly by opening the door; it was a stark contrast to neutral face that you smiled a bit.

“Welcome to Electric Kiss” She gestured behind her, her stance gesturing to the huge dance floor and bar that took up the bottom floor of the building, “I’m Joohyun, but you can call me Irene if you want” She stuck her hand out as soon as you walked in, your own taking it in a shake as you gaped at the dance floor before turning to her with a smile.

“Two names?” She smiled softly at that, tapping her name badge that was pinned to her nice uniform; a suit vest and skirt that fit the vibe of the bar.

“Yes, safety precaution” She chuckled melodically as you tilted your head, “Just so no one that comes in can find us outside of work,” You pulled an impressed face.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find you a name,” She winked, gesturing for you to follow after her, “Since you’re here early I’ll give you a small rundown of the bar, I hope you’re prepared for your first shift” She sang softly as you followed after her.

“Yes, of course,” You smiled eagerly, practically skipping after her, quickly sliding through the bar door she held open for you to get behind.

The actual bar itself was completely made of glass so that everyone could see all the bottles, the attention to detail blowing you away as each bottle had a light under it so the glass would light up and glow; a blacklight hung above them so they glowed in the dark light of the bar. Joohyun seemed completely in her element behind the bar as she quickly tapped on the fancy cash register; the screen lighting up with various tabs before she turned and grinned at you, her arm leaning against the back of the bar.

“Let’s run you through this, then we’ll get you dressed for your shift,” She honestly was one of the friendliest bar workers you’d ever met, as you nodded ecstatically at her, her gentle eyes loving your eagerness.

Joohyun was a fantastic teacher as she breezed you through Electric kisses till system and taught you the ropes of their bar, obviously, you had experience from bars so you picked it up fairly quickly but she wasted no time in showing you the system and teaching you any speciality drinks that they made; carefully showing you how to make them and showing you the book you can check if you forget anything. She assured you that you’d never be alone on the bar for a while since the place can get really busy, they tended to have 2 or 3 girls at any time manning the place unless you were in VIP. She commented with a wink that you would be alone there but if you played your cards right, you’d get tips that would pay your rent for a month.

She overall was completely lovely to you, even when it came to putting on your uniform; she helped you make sure you were presentable and even touched up your makeup for you, making you were ready for the night, she was going to be your supervisor but she was going beyond what you’d expect, or maybe you just weren’t used to kindness like that?

You were left alone to put everything in your new locker when you sent a text to Jeonghan; who had softly demanded to know that you were okay and that the job was safe, he was impressed that you managed to get a new one so quickly but his worrying warmed your heart slightly. It had just sent when Joohyun yelled through the back in an amused tone that your first customer was here, your brain kicked into gear and a smile instantly painting itself on your face. However, you weren’t prepared for what was behind the velvet curtain that hid the back of the bar; the smile melting off your face slightly at the sight of your “first customer”.

“Hello,” Baekhyun twinkled his fingers at you in a greeting with a smirk, Joohyun rolling her eyes softly as she polished glasses off to the side of the bar, you felt a nerve in your neck twitch slightly as you approached him from behind the bar.

“Baekhyun,” You tensed out, the smile on your face clearly fake, “What a lovely surprise to see you here…” You trailed off, wanting nothing more than to give him the treatment that you gave Chanyeol yesterday.

“Now,” He tutted softly with a playful face, “Is that any way to act to your boss?” Your eyebrows shot to your hairline at that.

“Boss?” You stuttered softly, Joohyun cutting in with an eye roll.

“Hmm, surprising right?” She smirked, “Idiots can run clubs now? Who would have known?” Baekhyun side-eyed her at that as you felt anger build up in you. Chanyeol knew what he was offering you and he didn’t tell you?

“Enough of that you,” Baekhyun sassed her back, “Now, I’d like for my newest employee to get me a drink before we open.” You laughed dryly with a slight smirk.

“What would you like,” You rested your hands on the edge of the bar, looking at him while he took the liberty to look you up and down in your work outfit, whistling lowly with a smirk.

“I’ll take a shot of tequila,” He smirked at you, leaning closer to you, “The good stuff.” He eyebrows jumped suggestively, as you smiled at him, reaching under the bar to place a shot glass on it before turning around to grab the tequila.

It was a fancy crystal bottle that was on the top shelf but the heels that Joohyun had given you made it easier to reach, your body turning with the expensive bottle, and instantly reaching out to pour it. A devious smirk painted itself on your face once you poured it, Baekhyun’s hand reaching out to grab it but yours were quicker as you snatched it up; knocking it back as Joohyun laughed loudly at what she was watching. Baekhyun was shocked for a second as you dropped the empty glass back into his waiting hand, the warm burn running down your throat.

“Fuck, you’re mean,” Baekhyun breathed shocked before he smirked, “I want you on VIP tonight.” Joohyun whistling lowly with a laugh at that, as you smirked softly.

“Here 2 hours and she’s already stealing my gig,” Joohyun taunted with a laugh, but Baekhyun merely patted his hands on the bar as he stood up.

“You’re still my number one,” He winked playfully at Joohyun who rolled her eyes at him, “Make sure she’s prepped for the night, I’ll be in my office making a few phone calls” It was weird to see him in business mode but he still parted ways with a smirk and a “Bye ladies.”

Joohyun looked at you with a smirk as he left, “You know each other?”

You rolled your eyes at that, swiping the empty glass off the bar to get cleaned.

“Don’t start.”

When Joohyun said she’d take you up to VIP you didn’t expect for her to take you to a completely different floor of the bar; an upper-tier that looked down over general admissions through a massive glass wall that had a private bar just as big as the one down the stairs but stocked with more expensive alcohol that you almost gagged at the prices. You had come at just the right time; the bar was opening early tonight seeing as they were hosting a birthday party for some rich girl so by the time you were taken up more of the workers were filtering in. You had met a very nice girl called Sooyoung who went by the name of Joy, and by the bright smile on her face, the name fitted her well.

Joohyun, or Irene as you had to call her on shift, had informed you that you would be here up yourself for the night but she would come and check on you every so often; nothing was different up in VIP in terms of the bar except the stocking of drinks and that there was a wine cellar in the back for any customer that wanted a specific bottle with your hands being handed the keys to access everything, including the small staircase that you could use so that you didn’t have to walk through the bar. It seemed a lot chiller up here, the sound of the DJ setting up muffled slightly through the glass, but not in a way that meant you couldn’t hear the music.

The place was lined with expensive couches and chairs, with the odd pool table and regular table spackled around the place, but it wasn’t something you were going to pay attention too; VIP didn’t tend to get messy, and if it did there were people to clean it. You were busing yourself with cleaning glasses when you heard someone over the speaker system say that the bar was now open for business and everyone was to get to their assigned stations, you were set in that department but what you weren’t set on was having a customer so soon, the sound of the bar stool scrapping against the titled floor snapping you into work mode.

“I’ll take a whiskey please, top shelf,” A familiar voice echoed in your ears, one you’d heard it in every kind of light now; whispered, yelled, taunted. You practically spun as you whipped around, your eyes wide as day.

“Sehun…”

#oh sehun #sehun fanfic #sehun imagine #sehun smut #sehun scenario #exo imagines #exo imagine #sehun au #sehun x reader #exo scenarios #exo fanfic #exo fic #sehun mafia au #sehun angst

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gingus-doon · 4 years ago

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For AUs... How about an AU where Keiji and Megumi both survive the First Trial? I'd like your take on that :)

you have opened pandora's box! i hope you're prepared to read a whole ass essay JSHDKABD

BUT SERIOUSLY TY THIS IS SO INTERESTING!! i saw your post on this already and commented on it then (in the tags ofc JGVKDDJDJ), bUT that was the meta of yours that inspired me to think that, maybe, keiji wouldn't be the way he is without that particular first trial and its outcome..? so i'll be operating under that assumption for these scenarios, so as not to feed a fed horse! (as peta would say,)

this does seem like quite the task, considering that it would require both conceptualizing megumi when we have minimal information about her, and reconceptualizing keiji to the keiji before the death game, when we also have minimal information on how he thinks in general... (and his characterization in this is all based on a theory to begin with, so it's not the most steady foundation lol)

of course, their first trial would need to be something else for this au… to keep things simple, it'd be best if it was neutral– neither him saving or not saving megumi, to neither restore nor forsake his faith in himself. megumi saving him would probably leave some positive impression of her on him too, so a trial which includes none of those things would be mosy fitting. but the trial itself isn't what's interesting, so i won't go into it further djdksbdk.

assuming they don't have a trial together, they'd meet each other the first time with everyone else-- i'm sure megumi would recognize keiji after the initial shock of how different he looks. and even if keiji tried to distance himself from her, she'd mention she knows keiji right away. i do think she'd have quite a bit of logic in her, but not an unsympathetic amount! however, she has been shown to throw morality to the wind when protecting keiji in the past (though asunaro may have been involved in the coverup in ways we don't yet know), so i think she'd do something similar here. she'd say she knows him and possibly that he's a police officer to solidify his standings amongst the other participants, assuming that keiji doesn't lie for himself first.

speaking of what keiji would do… so, i'm reconceptualizing him as more solemn and maybe a bit less guarded? however, it's also important to keep some level of his chill with his stupid grin and avoidance, because that constitutes a large part of how he copes with his trauma. a keiji wrestling between solemn genuineness and avoidant nonchalance, protector and sacrificer, logic and emotion! a mid-way between the two extremes of before the shooting and during the normal death game. definitely more stoic, though… less smiley but not brooding either. i think a more stoic, perhaps more reserved personality pre-death game would make a lot of sense for keiji, considering that he has absolutely no friends.

BUT ANYWAY!! back to what i was saying– i think megumi would lie in keiji's favour, because she wants to get him out of there alive (sympathetic megumi ftw!) but she may hold it over his head a bit, if only to keep him in line with her plans by means of guilt. it's worth it, though, if she can make up for what happened with the shooting– really, she couldn't believe it when she saw keiji! after he quit, i bet they'd barely seen each other since. the bags under his eyes make his face look so gaunt and haunted compared to how he was when he was a kid…

she still treats him like a kid, too. they slowly fall into the mentor-pupil relationship again they had before, by habit, like ancient cogs beginning to turn for the first time in years. but, this isn't all easygoing, of course.

i don't think megumi would apologise for the coverup. at least, not right away. she seemed very keen on ignoring it back when the shooting happened, so despite any guilt she'd have around the incident, she doesn't bring it up. keiji's somewhat content to keep it that way as well, considering that facing what he did would shatter him. but being with megumi is like facing the shooting… i'm sure being with her like that would bring up bad memories and relight slumbering resentment. he'd eventually want an apology, an explanation, something… how soon "eventually," would be, though, i'm not sure. especially considering that keiji wants to survive, and megumi will help him do that.

though, i think keiji's will to live in this scenario would be a little weaker, oddly enough. because when he kills megumi, that plunges him into the confirmation of himself as a sinner-- he has more to run from, and if he's killed two people now for the sake of his well-being (first because he feared for his life, second in hopes of being rid of his trauma), why not do it again? he's not going to dwell on it anyway, he's not going to look…

but keiji in this scenario is wrestling with himself. he'd still like to be a protector. maybe… it's still possible? maybe he's not damned just yet? maybe there's worth in sacrificing his life for the more vulnerable.

and that internal conflict could potentially clash harshly against megumi's goals of getting them out alive by any means necessary. she's not malicious, and she wouldn't try to get someone killed for the fuck of it, but when it comes down to it, she's just there for them.

i do think megumi would feel guilty for the children, though… gin and kanna are so young. sara is so bright-eyed and clever, it almost reminds her of what keiji was like back then… but she's willing to shoulder the guilt of murder for keiji this time, if only to finally atone for what she did to him and to save herself as well.

there's a few ways this could go though!! i have about four. 1) megumi is ruthlessly logical as keiji is in the actual game, and keiji goes along with it for the sake of his own survival. they end up being the sole survivors of the death game; keiji hates megumi and is entirely broken // 2) same as the last one except the rest of them thwart megumi and keiji's evil plans and maybe keiji and / or megumi die.. :v // 3) megumi is still ruthlessly logical BUT keiji's resentment of megumi and his morals push him away from her and he works against her to protect everyone // 4) megumi starts out logically, but noticing how keiji has changed as a result of his trauma and how cold he's become (she can see the same strains of her "forget morality, save yourself" logic in him and some of his decisions) she decides to let herself fall to emotion and either sacrifices herself for keiji or someone else.

and, some misc. things i didn't get to mention above....!!

i REALLY loved your idea of megumi being team mom. with the above in mind, it's exactly parallel to keiji's role in the normal death game! a should-be protector wracked by guilt who abuses their power regardless. and to think of keiji potentially taking on the role of the abuser while also possibly being one of the vulnerable underneath the force of that power… it's just really interesting!

depressing parallels aside though, i think megumi would be a nice sensible mom figure for this group of idiots sjfhddj. maybe a little blunt or initially distant, but ultimately caring.

as for her role in a wider sense, i think megumi would actually be more trustworthy than keiji is in the normal death game. although she has the disadvantage of sexism working against her, she's actually in a police outfit and lacks the shady appearance. i'm certain she could conduct herself in a way that would garner everyone's trust-- she wouldn't have any questions she needed to dodge like keiji in the main game, unless keiji brought up the shooting, but even then, that's much less severe than murder. there wouldn't be any creepy flirting with her either, not only because there's no questions to dodge in the first place, but i think she'd opt to use her authority to harshly shut down any opposition, like she did with keiji after the shooting. and when that fails, she'd fall back on logical and / or manipulative rebuttals. i also think a large part of why nao and reko specifically don't like keiji is because he's a man! a creepy man at that, and that feeling really is justified, but the point is that megumi's a woman, a respectable woman, so they wouldn't have the same qualms with her. she could also prove herself to be a more capable leader than sara, being older and still having a cool head. she'd very much come off as a reliable leader if she tried to, i think.

but back to happier things!! i think keiji would take on a less authoritative role if under megumi's wing. it's hard to say exactly how his role would change, considering that we don't know if keiji saw the percentage papers normally, and if he did in this au, would megumi as well and would they both try to cling onto sara for survival's sake? BUT i'm not going to get into that, i just want to say that i think it'd be neat if keiji took up an older brother position to in group! kind of the same as the normal death game, except he has less control over what the group does and is more on the same standings as the other participants. i think he'd get closer to being a genuine protector in this scenario, fail sooner at his attempts to avoid emotional attachments to the other participants, and i also think he'd do a lot less of the creepy flirting!! because really, the only reason he did that anyway was to dodge questions, and that'd be a lot less necessary if 1) he had dependable megumi vouching for him from the beginning, therefore making him less suspicious to the others // 2) megumi's death would no longer be a topic of concern cos it didn't happen! // 3) if someone attempted to dig up info about his past or something of the sort, something that could get in the way of the group's trust of him and therefore keiji and megumi's chances of survival, megumi could likely shut it down as she has a good reputation amongst the group. besides, the only one who would say shit like that is shin, and people don't trust him very much anyways sjfjsbfnd.

i think keiji and sara would potentially have a less manipulative and more wholesome friendship in this au ahhh ;<;

as much as a manipulative dick megumi is to keiji in this au, she gets softer when his hallucinations seem to be affecting him more, or when he has nightmares. (CAN YOU TELL I'M A SUCKER FOR FLAWED BUT GENUINE MENTORSHIPS YET)

i've started to become STAUNCHLY AGAINST the notion that keiji killed megumi maliciously or that he would kill megumi maliciously!! because logically, it'd probably be more beneficial to have such a trustworthy ally in the death game (maybe not trustworthy to him, but to everyone else) and emotionally, I JUST THINK THEY'D HAVE BEEN CLOSE BEFORE OKAY AND I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA THAT HE'D KILL HER 😭😭 (that's more my emotions than his LOL, but i think it's so important that megumi's murder was an inactive murder that keiji was unsure of to the moment it happened and beyond!! you could say his angst about killing megumi during the 2nd main game is more about him killing another person, regardless of whether or not it was megumi, BUT i like to think the fact that it was megumi SPECIFICALLY was significant to him.) so that's why throughout i haven't really entertained the idea of him trying to kill her or anything like that, especially considering the theory i'm weaving this au under, which dictates keiji would likely be a lil softer + more emotional :>

CONSIDER,,, in that scenario i posed where megumi sacrifices herself for someone / keiji: while she's dying or before her death, she hugs keiji and tells him she's sorry, it wasn't his fault. no one's ever told him this before because he's refused to talk about what happened with anyone after her dismissal of it. after she says that, though, it feels as though he's let out a breath he's been holding for years and some of the weight of the shooting is finally gone.

that's all i can think to say at the moment, SO… to sum things up– a tl;dr, if you will--

(i never actually watched this show so pls don't kill me if the casting choices are weird 😭😭)

i hope this wasn't too derivative of yours or too horribly self indulgent to read LOL. this wasn't nearly as thorough as i could've been, but it might've been a bit much to consider more branching paths ajdbsns. thank you for letting me rant about keiji and megumi, i was thinking about them earlier today so it's nice to be given a chance to ramble about them again!!

#your turn to die #keiji shinogi #megumi sasahara #yttd au #yttd headcanons #sometimes i wonder how i still have so many words for these two #like damn i really wrote 2000 words on these guys like that like... damn #i just like them eeee #their relationship means so much to me #which kinda sucks because keiji is one of the most contentious characters and most ppl hate megumi AJDJSJS #im just out here w my megumi + keiji mentorship propaganda...#in my niche lil corner #anyways it makes me happy to talk about them #i should ponder on how they'd interact post-shooting in a non-death game au sometime #i should probably go write smth else now lol #WOW I REALLY OVERDID THIS HUH #the prompt: 5+ headcannons #me: ESSAY??? BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS???? MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL?????#no i actually had fun writing this SKDJSK #BUT IF ONLY I COULD ORGANIZE MY THOUGHTS SJFJSJ

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portugalisinsa · 4 years ago

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In my desperate attempt to sleep I ended up thinking about copaganda and how the term as been abused and misused, so let me rant about it for a little bit

So “copaganda” means a specific thing, namely, a piece of media that pushes propaganda for the police, implying that the police is Great, Actually, and Don’t Worry Your Pretty Little Head About It. Cops is an example of that. Blue Bloods is the poster child.

However, as it always happens, a specific term that is actually Important enters the mainstream and loses its meaning because of people, and now it’s being used by many as “movie and/or show that’s about the police and/or has a police character that isn’t a total dick, which obviously means that the movie and/or show is bad”.

That’s obviously bullshit, and I will show that with Edgar Wright’s great masterpiece Hot Fuzz.

On the surface, a complete dumbass would say that Hot Fuzz is copaganda. Nicholas Angel is shown as good! The final act is a big shooting! Of course it is, right?!

Wrong.

Alright, so, Hot Fuzz begins by showing us Nicholas Angel and how fucking awesome he is. There’s what you would expect (urban pacification, riot control, resolution of “Operation Crackdown”, highest arrest) but, most notably, there’s a degree in Politics and Sociology, and they specifically mention popularity within the community. In fact, in the rest of the movie, that is what he mostly does- community work. He checks the traffic, patrols, gets minors out of a pub, and tries to find a duck for a member of the public.

So Nicholas Angel is awesome, and he’s the best cop. it would naturally follow that the rest of the police would love him. That’s what we want- if you’re good, you meet your objectives, and do your best, you will fit in the police and make the world a better place!

But no, the others fucking hate him. His superiors are shipping him off because he’s too good. He’s making the others look bad, and the idea of, you know, holding everybody at a higher standard doesn’t touch them. No, Nicholas Angel makes them look bad, and looking good matters more than all the results he gets.

Now, it would be easy to make it look like it’s just a higher up problem. The higher up are lazy and image obsessed, but the common officers, the ones we all meet, they’re good and appreciate him. “Don’t worry, public, we’ll protect you even though our superiors are dicks.“

Nope, they fucking hate him too.

So already, not a glowing endorsement of the police. But hey! It could still be copaganda! Maybe, I don’t know, it’s just those city cops, and the country cops are actually the good guys!

Ahah lol, actually? The country cops fucking hate Angel too. Angel is a “city cop” who thinks too highly of himself and is there to show them how it’s done.

If you’re reading this, you may remember that Angel kinda never did anything other than, you know, be a by-the-book officer. The country cops don’t like him for completely bullshit reasons that can be summarized as “you’re new and also you’re trying to make us feel bad for not being as awesome as you by being that awesome and we don’t trust you go away”. Danny likes him, admittedly mostly because he’s a sweetie pie, but partly for the bad reasons- he wants soldier cop.

All of this is, needless to say, not a glowing endorsement of the police.

Eventually, we find out what made Angel want to become a police officer; his uncle was one. He admired him, and wanted to be like him. Now, Edgar Wright could have left it at that, and we would have had a nice, traditional “amazing cop comes from long, noble line of cops” story, but instead, we instantly find out that, actually, his uncle was corrupt, and that’s bad, and Angel is disappointed in him.

So, to recap- we’re basically halfway through the movie, and the only good cop is Angel. (Danny isn’t bad, but like... he’s not exactly good either, at least as a police officer)

The movie continues, and murders start to happen. Angel is literally the only one who thinks anything is wrong. A long, long string of “accidents” is happening, and none of the cops has even the slightest inkling that something is wrong. They’re just like “Angel, you nipped scarf, you’re a paranoid dum-dum“, and what little they do, they do after a lot of arm-twisting and with extreme disgruntlement.

Once again, not a glowing endorsement.

On and on we go, two thirds into the movie, with only Danny liking Angel and showing any kind of improvement as an officer, until we finally get to the revelation that the council is killing people for the greater good (the greater good)... Oh, and btw, who is also part of the council?

The Frank Butterman, AKA The Police Inspector, AKA THE FUCKING LEADER OF THE POLICE IN THIS TOWN.

So, to recap, by the final act of the movie, we find out that the higher ups are corrupt and the main body of the police are ineffectual.

Okay. Cool.

Nicholas Angel then proceeds to pack up for the final showdown. I see lots of people making the argument that this is an example of soldier cop, fixing everything with violence. Me, I think that’s bullshit. In real life, the problem isn’t that cops have riot gear, the problem is that they use it for everything. Riot gear is something you use only when strictly necessary, and I would argue that “murderous council that’s packing” is one of those times when it is.

So the riot gear and packing up is fine. But what about the violence, I hear you cry?

Well, here’s the thing- the man is responding with the appropriate amount of force. Everybody is trying to actually murder him, and he never, ever shoot to kill. He shoots to incapacitate.

Look at the final body count, people. You think Bad Boys would have ended such a show up with none dead, lots low-to-medium injured apart from one guy who was badly injured but did it himself by tripping on a pointy thing? Fuck, even outside of copaganda, what was the last action movie that had such a body count?

Also, the rest of the country police come around, after initially responding AGAINST Angel, and only thanks to Danny mediation. Which... I mean, good, it’s good, I’m very proud of them, but like, once again, this isn’t exactly glowing endorsement. This doesn’t scream “see, audience?!?! Cops may look ineffectual, but when push comes to shove, they’ll save you!” to me, this screams “yo, they’re finally doing the bare minimum”.

Anyway, the end comes. The London police wants Nicholas Angel to come back because now they look bad, but Angel wants to actually rebuild and direct the police here in the town. They all do paperwork, because that’s what the rules say and rules are important and cops should follow the rules, and more stuff happens but it’s not important for the purpose of this so, here, the end.

At the end, we get the song. The choice of music is important for a movie, it means stuff. Even a mediocre director knows that, and Edgar Wright is a goddamn master of the craft. Have you seen The World’s End? Check that soundtrack. It’s perfect. Hell, the man directed Baby Driver, which, you know, was half soundtrack. Edgar Wright cares about music in his movies and he chooses it carefully, is the point, okay?

So, keeping in mind that, what do we end Hot Fuzz with? Some bombastic “bad boys bad boys, whatchu gonna do, whatchu gonna do when they come for you”? Something that pumps you up, that makes you go “FUCK YEAH”?

We end it with “Caught by the Fuzz”, by Supergrass. Which, yes, slaps, it slaps my whole bod, and yes, it does pump you up, but, once again, is not a glowing endorsement of the police. It’s a song from the point of view of a scared teen having been arrested by the police who is thinking “fuck I should have stayed at home fuck”.

So what am I trying to say with this? Well, let’s start with what I’m not trying to say; I don’t think Hot Fuzz is an indictment of the police. Please don’t take all of this as me saying that Edgar Wright intended Hot Fuzz as a giant ACAB. That is what in the field we call a reach. Hot Fuzz isn’t an indictment of the police, and that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be. It’s showing the police as a highly flawed institution, and sure, it’s not showing it as flawed as it actually is, but that’s fine, because it’s not trying to be The Wire. What it is trying to be is a fun action movie, which it is, and it is so amazingly.

What I am trying to show is that it’s not copaganda. It’s a movie with a police officer as a main character, a main character who is awesome, but it isn’t copaganda. It’s not endorsing the police. It’s not whitewashing it. It isn’t saying “look at the police, aren’t they great? Aren’t we glad the police are around? Aren’t we better because of the police? Don’t you want to become a police officer? Don’t you think that what they do is excusable, at the end of the day, since they deal with so much?”

But what does this have to do with copaganda? So, look. I get that it’s very nice to tell other people that their favourite shows and/or movie is bad AND wrong, and to feel like you have the moral high ground while doing so. I also get that words change and at the end of the day who gives a shit about it. I really do get that- I will never, ever give a shit about ‘literally’ being used as an intensive and not just to mean ‘literally’, for example.

BUT, some words are actually important, because they do mean a very, very specific thing they are best at describing. And “copaganda” is important, because you read it, you hear it, and you instantly know what it means; it’s something that’s also cop propaganda. Got it.

Which means it’s a word that is important to try and keep for as long as possible, because, you know... the cops aren’t always great. And it’d be best if we weren’t constantly told they are.

I understand that it feels bad to have so many bad things happening around us, and so little power to stop it. But you do have a little bit of power. You have the power to call a spade a spade, and to say ‘that isn’t cool’.

Calling a spade a spade, however, means that you don’t go around calling everything a spade. If you call everything a spade, it creates confusion, and dilutes a message.

So please. Please.

Instead of just pointing at something that has a cop in it and say “copaganda!”, use your critical skills and, like I just did with Hot Fuzz, try to find out if it actually is copaganda before saying it is so.

#hot fuzz #copaganda #long post #now please let me sleep #i'm so tired all the time #man this movie is great #my favourite one is the world's end tho #i'm absolutely not sorry it gave me everything #it made me sad it made me laugh it made me happy it made me cheer #p.s. this is all to say that I'm also not exactly sure Brooklyn 99 is copaganda #but i honestly haven't watched it in years so i have no interest in defending it tbqh #not that i've ever seen anyone saying that hot fuzz is copaganda #i'm sure someone has if only because there's always that one person willfully misinterpreting things #usually the same person going 'uhm maybe if people don't have critical skills #it's because of english teachers not doing their job'#sure it's your english teacher's problem #not you ignoring what they're saying because 'the curtains are just blue' and then covering your ears

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leechonspeeddial · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Shift: Carry On, Citizen Fang

Summary: Something wicked this way comes. If only Resentment could figure out if it was the same thing that stunk up the Burger King. Chapters: 2/? Read on ao3

Straight Kevin had been very understanding about my family emergency – He was super duper cool with manning the restaurant all by his lonesome. Sadly, he wasn't understanding enough to let me get away with not telling Gay Kevin about it – which wasn't very super duper cool of him, now was it?

He didn't even have the decency to offer to call for me, the fucking coward.

"Are you certain it's an emergency?"

I rolled my eyes and skipped over the muddy snow pile blocking the sidewalk. I felt a sense of kinship with the season. Besides the cold and death, Winter went all out when it came to inconveniencing the population.

"Trust me, Kev. If I wanted to blow off work, I'd do it on location. I'm not exactly in a rush to get home, ya know?"

The line went quiet for exactly five seconds and I could picture him doing that breathing exercise he did whenever he was fed up with my shit. I took the opportunity to loudly slurp my mello yello.

Delicious.

"I don't know, you could be ditching to hang out with friends or something. Teens do that. I did that." I almost laughed, as if.

"I spend all of my free time at work and everyone my age thinks I'm pregnant with an incest baby. Bold of you to assume I even have friends."

"You would get friends if you felt like it would inconvenience me. And it would really inconvenience me right now"

"Ugh. Don't be so dramatic. I don't do things just to be a general nuisance," I heard a snort that didn't come from Gay Kevin. "Wait, did you put me on speaker?!"

"What's the word, Res" Not Kevin chimed in before being shushed by Gay Kevin.

"Relax, we're loading the rental. I don't exactly have a free hand."

"So? This only needed to be like two seconds. Take a five or something."

"I'm going to level with you, our new napkin guy gives me real sketch vibes. Any second where we're not loading, it's an additional second we have to spend here. I simply refuse to die in a dilapidated warehouse, Resentment. I refuse."

I crossed the street to take the park shortcut home. A couple of high schoolers were vaping by the swings; they stared at me and I ignored them.

"I think you'd survive. You exude final girl energy"

"Have you ever watched a horror movie? I'd literally die first"

"I watched Practical Magic once" I smirked when Not Kevin groaned.

My satisfaction didn't last long, because no more than a second later, a snowball hit the back of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I couldn't gloat to Edward about having the moral high ground if I murdered every minor annoyance that crossed my path.

It just sucked having to ignore my vampire senses because I had to play human. What was the point of knowing something was coming if you were unable to stop it because you had to keep up appearances? In my opinion, humans should just have to deal with the knowledge of the supernatural. They were big kids, we didn't need to coddle them anymore.

It was 2022, for God's sake.

I turned back scowling and flipped off the fuckers. I recognized High-Pony in the group and decided to give her the soggiest, saddest, AND smallest fries next time she dared enter my work.

Maybe even sprinkle some burnt ones for extra flavor.

"I know what you're doing and I'm begging you to stop. I'm the one who has to deal with him for the next two hours"

"Don't be rude. Not Kevin is a gift," I glared at the group and slowly walked away backwards. At least until they were out of my sight. The Cullens were insane for going back to high school as often as they did.

"Ha. It's nice to be appreciated"

"Truly. Short of a museum, where else are you going to find something so old?"

"Boo. Get new jokes, the material is stale," I rolled my eyes as I shook the snow from my hair. I was rapidly approaching home and I wasn't quite prepared to go in.

For one, how was I supposed to keep my new mystery to myself if that's what Alice saw? It wasn't fair. To think I had only been worried about Big Brother and his thought police...

Reflecting on it though, if Alice saw my mystery man, then wouldn't that mean he was either a vampire or a human? Ergo, something neither mysterious nor interesting.

Disappointing.

"Whatever, gramps"

"Ok, ok. Let's get back on topic –"

"You gotta start trying harder, Chucky. You're far from the only teen girl that calls me ancient on the regular."

"Why are you regularly taking to teenage girls, creep?"

"Guys –"

"That's not what–! I foster kids!"

"Yeah, sure, pervert"

"I'm NOT –"

"OK RESENTMENT, DEAL WITH YOUR FAMILY. HANGING UP NOW"

I stopped walking and stared at my phone. Despite the length of the call, there had been no new messages from my family. I was unsure if that was a good sign.

I took a sip from my drink and was disappointed to find I only had ice left. I wondered if that was thematically significant, or maybe even foreshadowing.

Sigh.

I picked up my pace and tried to empty my mind before arriving home. "No thoughts, head empty" was a good mantra when you lived with a mind reader.

The rest of the walk was fairly uneventful, save for some guy who got attacked by a flock of ducks for getting way too close without enough food. Beware, all amateur wildlife photographers, lest the same fate falls upon you, I guess.

Poor guy even lost his coat. I was happy to assume it was the first casualty under the duck assault.

I slowed down when I finally arrived across the street from my home. The newest Cullen mansion stood foreboding before me. A concrete monument full of sharp lines and odd angles; despite all of Esme's soft touches, brutalism simply exuded hostility and soullessness. Try as she might, there was a limit to how much you could dress up a giant grey concrete block to make it look approachable – and if we were being honest, it wasn't working.

How's that for a metaphor?

Well. There was no use delaying the inevitable.

I entered the house.

[Scene Break]

Being a half-vampire meant that I always felt at a misstep with everyone around me. To me, humanity was more of a scientific field of study that I took interest in and less of a dearly held-on memento of a bygone era or something that I simply had.

From the vampire side of things, while I was clearly an abomination, my existence didn't require me to be a parasitic blood freak. That put me in a different head space from the rest of my family. For one, I didn't need to agonize over my monstrous nature; secondly, I wasn't a slave to my bloodlust if I kept myself full of human food; and thirdly, there just wasn't much precedent for me to measure up to.

For all we knew, everything I did was the best I could have done.

That was all to say, I always felt like there was something I was missing when interacting with anyone. My point of view was fundamentally a different one, and though some things I could make sense of theoretically, it wasn't the same as first-hand experience.

Standing in the living room, surrounded by my family as they continued to say nothing, I couldn't help but think that perhaps this time the context I was missing had nothing to do with my hybrid status.

Edward paced while looking constipated but everyone else stood motionless and rigidly like the statues they were. Not even Emmett tried to lighten the mood, and that's how you knew it was serious.

"So who's going to who's funeral? Please don't say any of my coworkers, I've grown quite attached to them"

"Renesmee," Edward warned. I ignore him like he ignored my preferred name.

"Is it you pops? Wanna crack open another high school girl and drink her up like grape soda?"

"For once in your life could you stop acting like a brat?" Edward snapped and I flinched.

"Takes one to know one. Maybe if you didn't raise one you wouldn't have to deal with one, dad"

"Enough!" We both turned to look at Carlisle and I could see how unsettled he was. My stomach churned.

"Maybe my vision was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him," Alice sounded desperate, almost like the time the truck transporting her latest Givenchy haul got into a freak accident and the customer service lady told her they couldn't replace her order until after whatever microtrend that had been happening at the time ended.

"No, Alice. I saw your vision. It was. No doubt about it, that face is burned in my memory"

"It just doesn't make any sense, Edward!"

"I know what I saw," he replied forcefully.

Carlisle rubbed at his eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, you could have mistaken him for human.

"What's going on? You guys are scaring me," nothing felt right and all I wanted to do was to get back to the Burger King. At least the Kevins kept me in the loop when potentially life-threatening stuff happened.

"James is back," Bella whispered and I looked at her. Out of all of the Cullens, she looked the least worried. While everyone else's expressions visibly darkened at hearing the name, Bella said the name like she would say any name that wasn't Edward's.

"Who the fuck is James?"

"He was a vampire," Jasper growled.

"So what's the big deal? I don't know if you have noticed, but all of you are vampires"

"Emphasis on the was, Nessie. We ripped apart the bastard a good 16 years ago," Emmet explained. I raised my eyebrow.

"You sure about that? Last I heard, once you killed the undead, they were dead for good. No such thing as an undead undead."

"Oh, damn sure. We tore into him like frenzied piranhas at lunchtime and then lit him like a firework on the Fourth of July," Rosalie lightly hit his arm.

"You don't have to be so graphic about it"

"So it's obviously not him," Edward made a noise filled with frustration.

"Renesmee, I know what I saw. It was him, I would bet my life on it"

"Would you bet Bella's?" was what I almost said but Edward's glare made me reconsider. Just this once.

"Dead people just don't walk around all over the place," I said instead.

"We do," Emmett chimed in.

"We're different!"

"So why not him?"

"Edward is right," Classic Carl Carlisle move. His Golden Child could never be wrong. "I might have heard of something like this happening before."

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone exploded.

"WHAT?!"

Carlisle sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You have to understand, I couldn't verify it at the time."

When he said nothing, Esme made a "well, go on" motion.

"It happened about a decade ago. I only came upon this information because of Eleazar – he had approached me about it because he thought I was involved," Carlisle walked towards a window and stared into the distance like the dramatic bitch he was.

Edward slapped the back of my head.

"He told me heard of rumors of a vampire that had died 50 years ago and who walked the Earth again. You all know about my passion for Theology and my desire to find out what waits for us on the other side, so I promised to look into it. It took a while, but eventually, I heard back from someone"

"Your trip to Carencro," Esme gasped. "You said it was a conference!"

"When was this, I don't remember this?" Carl was holding back no punches in his dramatic reveal.

"It was our semester abroad," that's what Edward like to call the half a year experiment we spent in France. He wanted to see if Bella, him, and I could be a family unit all on our own.

It failed pretty miserably, would never happen again.

"I didn't want to burden you, love. Not unless I knew for sure."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "So what happened?"

Carlisle turned back to us and shrugged.

"I met my informant and they told me to go to this one cafe and ask for Roy. I went there and the manager told me no one with that name worked there"

"So you got pranked," Emmet said.

"I looked around town for a couple of days, and since nothing else came up after my trip to Lousiana, I felt comfortable labeling the whole thing a hoax."

Rosalie scoffed. "And you think that's what's happening here?"

"I think it could be a possibility. This is our only lead"

I thought over what Carlisle just said. Could there really be an afterlife vampires could come back from? And if that was the case, then what happened to Roy? Was Roy even the vampire Elezear heard about?

But most importantly, why now?

"Hey, Alice. Besides James, what else did you see?"

Everyone went quiet and I looked back at them confused.

"I saw us without you"

"I mean, you don't really see me in your visions," I chuckled nervously.

"When I don't see you, it's like I'm looking around something. What I saw...it felt like I would never have to deal with that interference again."

"...Oh"

That didn't sound good.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #my writing #renesmee cullen #the cullens #fanfiction #twilight renaissance

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years ago

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Oooh yeah the first time I was playing as a female mc because I wanted to romance ava and I usually go male mc if I want to romance a man and female mc if I want to romance a woman (and I think there was one book with where mc could be non-binary so I picked that one but I didn't finished the book), and Stacy's brother felt Hetero™ in a way, like Hollywood ish (? Honestly like cinematographicly bad hetero) but I ended up really loving Andy too, and Stacy felt a little flat but also I really liked her potential, like go crazy girl, and the mom issues.

Apart but holy shit you're 10000% right about that teacher like who inmediately threatens expulsion just like that for something not violent ??? And to an honor student with way too much on his plate ??? Obviously it would have been bad with any student, but you have literally the reason of why he's doing it and as a teacher HE LITERALLY COULD HAVE HELPED WITH IT ??????? Like something teachers can't really help students because it's a family thing only or is a financial struggle or etc but it was literally because of school (and his family, but the teacher could have heloed him with the school part)

(Identity thief anon (also I go by any pronouns ahhshs))

ur valid! that's lowkey what i wish i'd do (picking female MC if my fave LI is female and the other way around, i mean) but unfortunately i always go into the stories blindly having no idea what i'll find </3 so i cant really do that doiajdiosa and then i get attached for the MC i picked so i feel bad about changing their gender/name/appearance when i replay. so what i usually do is that i pick a male MC when i get the option because A- u don't always get the option, so i end up being male half the time and female half the time either way; and B- i feel slightly more comfortable with a male identity than a female one. like i'm still nonbinary and i wouldn't consider myself male aligned or within the gender of Man, but like... when i first came out i went by any pronouns but then because im afab everyone was like "cool, she/her only it is" so i was like fuck that and stopped using she/her. so i feel slightly more comfortable with a masc MC and end up going with that

there's also the fact that it always feels slightly genderfucky to have a male MC because choices is so sexist and also always writes the stories assuming ull pick a female MC, even when they give u the option not to. so when u pick a male MC he's very like not toxically masc and some things they add to make a QuiRkY MC that are very white woman and would feel annoying are actually kind of subversive for my black and brown male MCs. so like another win for queerness /j

ILITW MC in particular i feel has HUGE nonbinary vibes like no reason at all he just does <3 maybe it's just that for once the male clothes for ILITW actually fUCK. i wanna dress in that goth outfit <3 so gorgeous ugh. i love him even tho he's a fucking dumbass

also there's a book where an MC can be enby? worm? ive only ever read one book in choices with any enby characters at all (america's most elligible, books 2-3) but they weren't even a LI which is disappointing cuz they were a billion times superior to any of the LIs. sorry america's most elligible LIs fans

also oh connor IS the epitome of white cistraight man even when u play as a man tbh, like he was just so cistraight to me daouhdsaojdasij he kind of annoys me but also i forget that he even exists until he shows up onscreen and choices starts trying to push me into his lap and i'm just like, ugh, not again

and yeah i think i feel a similar way about stacy. i don't dislike her as a character and i don't feel like she as a character felt flat, her growth was very interesting and i loved seeing her start to challenge her mom like YESSS GO GIRL GIVE US EVERYTHING, she just felt flat as a LI to me ig? like idk i didn't feel chemistry between her and my MC personally, but also like, stacy girls are valid u know

right exactly. like i don't think ppl really understand that a school that doesn't drive people to cry during finals week and feel absolutely crushed by having to be there and that makes ppl feel like they're stupid, not enough, and overwhelmed IS IN FACT POSSIBLE and actually pretty easy to make when we stop treating students like statistics that will get the school more clients/funding (depending on whether it's a private or public school). and like as a teacher getting my degree in brasil it just feels completely surreal to me that anyone would see a student who's so overwhelmed by the amount of extracurriculars and responsibilities he feels like he has to take that he starts taking drugs to help his performance despite it affecting his health, and see that as like... something morally reprehensible? like it is bad that it happened but it's not the student's fault, what's morally reprehensible are the circumstances that led to his decision, not his decision

and like it is very much a systemic problem, more and more kids are taking focus pills to be able to survive the pressure of school and have a shot at a future, either on their own or because we are actually medicalizing not existing to be productive. and if it's a systemic problem then the fault is at the system?? and like holy shit i legit don't understand why choices gave us options like being like "it still isn't enough" when lucas gets rid of his pills, what do you mean it isn't enough??? enough for what??? to FORGIVE him???? for something that only hurt himself??? for something that is very much a systemic problem and therefore NOT HIS FAULT????? literally what the fuck even is this, lucas doesn't have to "make up" for a single thing, he needs to be HELPED is what he needs

like idk i know that the school system in the US is...... extremely backwards lmao which is not a term i like to use because it usually implies imperialistic views but the US is the height of world imperialism so like actually idc. brasil has a pretty progressive constitution and as a teacher my whole education was focused on being critical of the school system, particularly the productivity obsession, and drilling into us again and again that we aren't supposed to just be teaching subjects, we are also supposed to be teaching how to be a citizen, be a critical human being, work towards building a better future, and learning and growing AS A PERSON to be healthy and happy are values of the school system

like that's easier said than done when schools are under insane amounts of pressure by companies in practice to be productivity-driven, and most teachers who actually want to do a good job end up having to live at the edge of the knife and constantly fighting back outside pressure, but at least it is very much a mandatory part of our education to become teachers and also like literally part of the constitution. so i just... i can't fathom reacting the way mr cooper did? like as a teacher i felt BETRAYED, i felt like he shat all over my profession because that is the opposite of what we should be doing, this is a kid who needs help

and just like hOLY SHIT HE DID NOTHING WRONG, what are you punishing him for??? it's not even a like, stealing bread to feed your family situation, because what he did HAS NO VICTIM OTHER THAN HIMSELF, and therefore HE IS THE VICTIM NOT THE CULPRIT. he doesn't have to repent or atone or answer for a single fucking thing, he didn't victimize others, he doesn't have to apologize, there's nothing to punish him fOR??? like i don't believe in punishment anyway cuz im a prison abolitionist but doDAUSDJADASIJDAS???????????? HE DIDN'T. HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG. WHY IS THIS WHOLE GAME ACTING AS IF HE WAS IN THE WRONG. OH MY GOD

it's like saying that someone needs to be forgiven for self harming????? like how is it that someone has been hurt continuously until it led them to hurt themselves and then they have to? make up for it to a bunch of other ppl? my god it makes me so mad and i genuinely don't understand the logic, like usually when i see someone doing fucked up shit i can see the logic but i don't agree with it, but this time i genuinely DON'T SEE THE LOGIC. my USan friends said it was because he was technically doing drugs but like i legit still don't understand

anyway any school that drives a student to do something like that needs to rethink their entire curriculum and the psychological effect it's having on kids, because lucas is 1- not even the first one according to mr cooper; 2- even if he was, that'd be the only one who got CAUGHT; and 3- even if there was really only one singular student who went tHIS far, i doubt the others weren't feeling that same pressure and dealing with it in other similarly unhealthy ways

i know that's probably easier in brasil than in the US even if it's by no means easy here because here at least in public schools the curriculum and political-pedagogical plan has to be agreed on by the school community (teachers, parents, students, workers, and anyone who lives in the area of the school) and it's updated every year, so like, you have more means to do something to change the school in a deeper way, altho of course that still has to mean swinging the rest of the community, but still. but at the very least he could have looked for counseling for him? tried to find a way to take some of the workload off his shoulders? given him some more time on assignments? motioning for all the clubs he was the president of to have co-presidents so he was less overwhelmed?

like there was just daodsao he could have done so many things and he justs DIDN'T he chose to not only punish him instead but quite literally THREATEN HIM WITH DEATH because that's what calling the police on a latino student over a drug charge is. like he might've survived but the possibility that he would fucking DIE was very much there, and i know choices didn't think of that because they'd rather die than think about the racial implications of anything but holy fucking shit. and im not even getting into how mr cooper is BLACK because then ill just start biting people like thanks for putting that threat on a black character's mouth choices. if u need me ill be foaming at the mouth

anyway SORRY god why is it that i always get to the salty part within 2 seconds of joining a fandom i promise that i actually like it lives and the way they handled most of their plot, i genuinely think it's a very well written and actually worth ur time story but i just doadosaida like i said particularly as a teacher in the context where i'm being taught, plus with all my political beliefs, i just can't let it go aaaa

also ty for telling me ur pronouns! idk if i assumed them at any time, i don't think so but i might have done so without realizing and if i did im really sorry. also sorry for the gigantic salty reply daojdsaojdaisjsajdoadsaodasj rip me i never shut up

#it lives spoilers #ilitw spoilers #it lives #salt #long post #drugs tw #cops tw #police brutality tw #racism tw #victim blaming tw #anti connor green #ilitw #lucas thomas #ask #identity thief anon #self harm tw

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years ago

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Anonymous asked: I love your blog it’s definitely one of the most smartest and cultured ones around. Since you are a super chilled out military vet (flying combat helicopters, how cool is that?!) and also a very thoughtful and devout Christian (I think you talked about being an Anglican) I know this is a cheeky question but I’ll ask it anyway. Would you rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

Now this is an interesting question you play at 2am and the wine is dangerously low.

I have to correct you on a couple of things. Yes, it was ‘cool’ to fly combat helicopters especially in a battlefield setting but it was just a job, like any other. And it’s never about the pilot it’s about the rest of the team behind you, especially your ground crew who make sure you go up and come back in one piece. As for being super chilled you clearly have never seen how sweaty one gets flying in high stress situations. Oh and the stink! A skunk wouldn’t last 5 minutes in my cockpit.

As for my Christian beliefs, I’ll settle for being a believing one. My faith, such as it is, is about living - and failing - by grace day by day than being fervently devout. Faith is a struggle to not rely upon one’s own strength but on divine mercy and grace.

Anyway....

Would I rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

History has shown there's not a lot of difference between the two...

No, wait. On second thoughts maybe I would rather live in a military dictatorship as the lesser evil.

As an ex-officer in her HM armed forces, I know things will be run pretty efficiently with no dilly-dallying. So there’s that.

I suppose even if one does say it’s preferable to live under military rule rather than a theocratic one there is still the question of what kind of military rule? Every nation that has been under military rule came to power and sustained their hold under different dynamics. And of course it also depends on how mature civil society and the rule of law as well as the democratic culture really was in the first place. A lot is tied up with the brutal nature of the personality of the regime leader too. There are simply too many variables.

So one is forced to generalise. So l can’t get too serious in answering this question.

Rather than focus on the negative side let’s look on the bright side.

Just off the top of my head I can think of these reasons why I would choose to ‘live’ under military rule than a theocratic one. There are in no real order:

Beds will be made properly subject to inspection.

Families will be run like military units with the man at the head of the table.

Family meals will be taken at set times.

Public civility will make a return (e.g. no public spitting, drunken, or loutish behaviour).

Freedom of speech will more likely be censored than abolished (better than nothing I suppose)

Elections would be rigged rather than banned (but who really votes anyway these days?) 

They will most likely make the trains run on time (unless you’re British or Italian).

Military leaders often enjoy genuine popularity - albeit after eliminating plausible rivals - that is based on “performance legitimacy,” a perceived competence at securing prosperity and defending the nation against external or internal threats. The new autocrats of today are more surgical: they aim only to convince citizens of their competence to govern.

Maintaining power, for military dictators and their court, is less a matter of terrorising and persecuting victims than of manipulating beliefs about the world. But of course they can do both if backed into a corner to survive.

State propaganda aims not to re-engineer human souls but to boost the military regime leader’s ratings.

The military tend to stay out of personal lives. They have a political police but not necessarily a moral police.

Economic growth is more likely to be stable than under a theocratic state.

Military dictatorships are more likely to build vast bureaucracies to run the state - more jobs for everyone

The military put on great events. Their parades are more colourful and spectacular.

Having a sense of humour is more likely to get you imprisoned than executed for telling an anti-regime joke. It’s no joke to say that people develop a more refinery subversive sense of humour when oppressed. Take for example a famous comedian in Myanmar, Zarganar, for whom comedy is a shield and a weapon. During the time of the military dictatorship (1962-2010) he would make jokes like, “The American says, 'We have a one-legged guy who climbed Mount Everest.' The Brit says, 'We recently had a guy with no arms who swam the Atlantic Ocean. But the Burmese guy says, 'That's nothing! We had a leader who ruled for 18 years without a brain!" It was for jokes like this that Zarganar received a prison sentence in 2008 - for up to 59 years.

Military dictatorships don’t last long. They are more unstable. They tend to fall from the weight of their own contradictions.

One of the problems of living in a theocracy is how absolutist it would be in looking at life in terms of clear cut black and white according to those who rule over you. I strongly suspect in a theocratic state the morality secret police will be all over you looking for any social or moral infraction. In a Christian Theocracy, you'll never be Christian enough - the same would be for states that were Islamic, Judaic or Hindu etc. There's always going to be some pious asshole there with another version of Christianity that is more Christian than you and you're going to lose the freedom to make your own choices.

Under theocracies, unlike other authoritarian regimes, the rulers are the moral authorities that legitimises and fuels their political legitimacy to govern. It assumes its own moral correctness married to its political destiny to rule over others. As C.S Lewis memorably puts it, “Theocracy is the worst of all governments. If we must have a tyrant, a robber baron is far better than an inquisitor. The baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity at some point be sated; and since he dimly knows he is doing wrong he may possibly repent. But the inquisitor who mistakes his own cruelty and lust of power and fear for the voice of Heaven will torment us infinitely because he torments us with the approval of his own conscience and his better impulses appear to him as temptations.”

Finally, I’ll go with the military dictatorship with the hope that there might be some way of bringing the system down with a bit of logic and rationality. Hell knows that wouldn't be possible in a theocratic system!

I agree with Margaret Atwood when she said, “If you disagree with your government, that's political. If you disagree with your government that is approaching theocracy, then you're evil.” There’s more wriggle room with fighting against a military dictatorship because it’s usually against an asshole tyrant - or a ruling oligarchy of a military junta - and not a pernicious idea soaked in theological bullshit or an entire ideology divinely santificated by God himself.

A more interesting question is not to ask is why many people are so readily drawn to be ruled under a military rule or a theocratic one and especially a benevolent dictatorship (like Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore or Paul Kagame in Rwanda) but why increasingly more people in the Western world look to authoritarian figures to rule and shape their lives?

Why do Silicon Valley titans like Peter Thiel and others like him think fondly of ditching democracy in the name of some utopian hyper-capitalist vision of ‘freedom’?

I hear murmurs of the same talk when I interact with corporate colleagues and high net worth individuals I hear it around dinner tables about how democracy is bad for business and profit. Often it’s accompanied by praise for China's ability to "get things done." I just roll my eyes and smile politely.

I think - outside of the legitimate concern of the decay of civil discourse, the corruption of politicians, and corrosiveness of crony capitalism - it’s because democratic politics is hard. Damn hard.

Moreover democratic politics does not have a "right" answer. There never is.

In our Western societies it is the playing field (or market place?) where our values compete. Surely, you say, there is a right way to get the job done: to fill in the potholes, build the roads, keep our streets safe, get our kids to learn reading and math. Ah, but look how quickly those issues get contentious.

Whose potholes should get filled first? Do we try to keep our streets safe through community policing or long prison sentences? Should teachers be given merit pay, are small classrooms better, or should we lengthen the school day? These issues engender deep political fights, all - even in the few debates where research provides clear, technocratic answers. That is because the area of politics is an area for values disputes, not technical solutions.

One person's "right" is not another's because people prioritise different values: equity versus excellence, efficiency versus voice and participation, security versus social justice, short-term versus long-term gains.

Democratic politics allows many ideas of "right" to flourish. It is less efficient than dictatorship. It also makes fewer tremendous mistakes.

The longing for a leader who knows what is in her people's best interests, who rules with care and guides the nation on a wise path, was Plato's idea of a philosopher-king. It's a tempting picture, but it's asking the wrong question.

In political history, philosophers moved from a preference for such benevolent dictators to the ugly realities of democracy when they switched the question from "who could best rule?" to "what system prevents the worst rule?"

But clearly democracy is buckling under pressure in our torrid times. Populism - the logical end consequence of a purer democracy - is chipping away at the edifice of democratic norms and conventions. Increasingly inward looking nativism and nationalism fuel passions beyond the control of reason.

Perhaps it is time we went back to the tried and tested example of a monarchy, a constitutional one that is.

A revitalised monarchy in Britain needs a Head of State that can provide a personal identity to an impersonal State, and a collective sense of itself. A Head of State who does not owe his or her position to either patronage or a vote can more properly represent all the people. Consider that a President who has been elected, often by a minority of a minority of the electorate, cannot adequately speak for the people who did not vote for him or her. It is even worse if the President has been appointed, because then he owes his position to a small clique.So, the accident of birth is the best means of appointing a Head of State. Someone who has no party political axe to grind, or special favours to repay to a vested interest. Someone whose allegiance is to the people. Not just allegiance to the people who voted for him or his political party, but allegiance to all the people of the country equally. Far from being "incompatible" with democracy, a Monarchy can thereby enhance the government of the land.

The Monarch is a national icon. An icon which cannot be replaced adequately by any other politician or personality. This is because the British Monarchy embodies British history and identity in all its aspects, both good and bad.

When you see the Queen you not only see history since 1952, when she took the throne, but you see a person who provides a living sense of historical continuity with the past. Someone who embodies in her person a history which extends back through time, back through the Victorian era, back into the Stuart era and beyond. You see the national history of all parts of our islands, together, going right back in time.

As Edmund Burke, Roger Scruton and Michael Oakeshott would say, the monarchy is a living continuity between the past, the present and the future.

With its traditions, its history, its ceremonial, and with its standing and respect throughout the world, the British Monarchy represents a unique national treasure, without which the United Kingdom would be sorely impoverished.

If you value national distinctiveness, you should be a Monarchist.

If you are anti-globalist you should be a Monarchist because Monarchies represent the different national traditions and distinctions among the nations.

The desire to secure, strengthen and promote your own distinct national icons, whether your Monarch, or your own unique national identity, should be your concern, whether you live here in St Andrews, or whether you live in St Petersburg, or whether you live in St Paulo.

As the global financial system rushes us all towards a world intended to eradicate all local and national distinctions, the Monarchy stands out as different, distinct and valuable. Constitutionally, practically, spiritually and symbolically the Monarchy is a national treasure, the continued erosion of which would change the character of Britain, and not in a good way!

I’m speaking as a High Tory now, sorry. And so of course I only see it working for the United Kingdom....and the Commonwealth (slip that discreetly in there for you India, Australia, Canada, and Africa).

Still, if you want egalitarianism then look at Norway and the Netherlands - both highly "egalitarian" societies, and both monarchies.

Everyone else will just have to jolly well do without or ask us politely to come back (I’m looking at you my dear American colonial cousins, all will be forgiven).

The best of all worlds? Time will tell.

At your service, Ma’am....

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #military dictatorship #government #rule #democracy #culture #society #theocracy #army #christianity #religion #nd high net worth individuals

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thepoppypress · 4 years ago

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The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 7:

There wasn’t much of a rush at first. Peter liked to think it was more shock than anything, but a part of him knew that this had happened far too often for him to really be in shock. It wasn’t until about ten to fifteen minutes after Commissioner Gordon had been taken into the manor did the flames of his rage finally burst.

Piper, ever the observant puppy, came up to him with her tail between her legs, noticing and responding to her master’s distress. Peter’s eyes softened as he ran a hand through her soft fur. Titus lumbered up to him not long after, resting his large snout onto Peter’s lap. He let out a strained chuckle.

“Thanks, Titus,” he said and received a lick on his hand from his large tongue. A presence approached from behind him.

“Parker,” a stiff voice said. Peter hummed, not really interested in turning around to face Damian. Peter could tell Damian was a little nervous, as his heart rate had elevated a bit. “Are-” a pause came, “are you alright?” There was a note of reluctance in Damian’s tone as if he wasn’t sure he should be there. Peter let his lips twitch up slightly.

“Fine.” Damian came to stand in front of Peter. “Well, as fine as I can be.” They were silent for a while, before Peter heard heavy footsteps lumbering towards the room they were in.

“Hey Bruce,” he called out noncommittally. The footsteps stopped before the door.

“How are you holding up, Peter?” The deep voice of the head of house asked. Peter shrugged, not really caring if Bruce could see or not. He probably noticed though.

“Like I told Damian, as good as I can be.” Bruce entered the room, coming to stand next to Damian, both men looming over Peter like it was their job to do so.

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Can you tell me where Harley is?” A regretful look came upon the man’s handsome face, though his son’s expression was as ambiguous as ever.

“If I could, Pete, I would. But I don’t.” Peter scoffed, running a hand through chestnut curls with agitation.

“So there is something the great Batman doesn’t know,” he mumbled to himself, though he could tell that Bruce and Damian heard it. Both men froze, and while their faces remained unreadable, he could see the surprise coursing through their eyes.

Bruce’s voice was quiet, though Peter could hear the strain.

“How did you know?” Peter levelled them with a cool look, and despite not planning to reveal that he knew at that exact moment, he didn't think to feel bad about it.

“I know I’m not a detective, Bruce, but give me some credit. I can figure things out on my own, even if you didn’t make it so blatantly obvious.” Father and son straightened up, from shock, wariness, or pride, Peter doesn’t know. Peter just knew that they had many things to talk about so both stalked out of the room, footfalls heavy and rushed as the door banged closed on their way out. It was another five minutes before Peter retired to his own room, Piper and Titus following from behind.

-----

“Knock knock,” Dick’s voice called out, breaking Peter’s train of thought. Peter pushed himself into a sitting position, giving the handsome man a forced grin.

“Hey Dick,” he greeted softly. “What’s up?” The light seemed to bend around him in the doorway, making him seem like some sort of angel. In reality, Peter knew he was far from that.

“I heard you knew.” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

“I figured it out pretty early on.” Dick leaned on the doorway.

“When?” Peter thought for a moment, calculating.

“I knew you weren’t normal when I met you. I didn’t really realize that Bruce, Batman I mean, was mafia until I came here.” Silence commenced and Dick seemed to hesitate before entering the room, dark and warm.

“You-” The eldest Wayne paused, “you won’t do anything will you?”

The unspoken ‘you won’t tell?’ was quite obvious.

“Not unless you do anything in front of me. Otherwise, I won’t have proof.” Dick’s shoulders slumped before he came forward to sit on the bed.

“You realize now, that we can’t let you go, right?” Peter didn’t react to that statement.

“Would you have let me go even when I didn’t know you guys were mafia?” A tense moment passed before Dick’s shoulder came out of their slumped position, shaking with silent laughter. Peter already knew the answer before he even asked the question.

“No,” Dick admitted, and while it wasn’t a surprise to Peter, he had no idea why he was so gutted upon hearing the admission. Maybe it was his conscience kicking in. “No, I suppose not. You know, gorgeous, it’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“I’ve killed more than my fair share of people,” Peter’s chest ached but he didn’t otherwise react, “but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do.” Peter leaned back onto his hands, his arms bearing the weight of his torso and his heavy heart.

“You realize that makes you like a psychopath, right Dick?” At that, the look on the other man’s face became pensive.

“More like a sociopath. That’s what I would characterize me as. I saw my parent’s murder, you know.” The sudden change in subject gave Peter a bit of whiplash and he did not know this. Peter knew that Bruce Wayne had acquired Dick Grayson when his parents died from a nasty fall. He also knew that Dick Grayson watched them fall off that platform.

He always thought it was hard on him, considering circumstances and all, but then he remembered that this was not the same Dick Grayson from the comics, but darker, a shadow version of the light that Dick was supposed to be. “I saw those men sabotage the ropes. I could’ve stopped it,” the look in Dick’s blue eyes was intense, as if testing Peter, “but I was so damn curious.” Peter licked his lips, suddenly dry. His hands started to sweat and his heart thudded with a ferocious force in his ribcage.

This is not where he saw this conversation going and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Curious? About what would happen?” The blue eyes bore into him a little while longer before looking away and Peter felt like collapsing against the mattress, the weight gone from his body, no longer paralysing him.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I was young and I didn’t always know how things worked so I was curious about what would happen if those men cut the ropes and my parents still used them. I felt bad afterwards. They were genuinely good people, Pete. That’s why I exacted my revenge on the people who did that to them.” Their gazes met as Peter stared incredulously at the other man. The intention of his stare didn’t need to be said.

“They were still my parents, Peter. It felt right.” Peter scoffed, turning away from Dick completely, though the feel of those blue eyes burning into him didn’t fade away.

“Felt right after you used them in some sort of sick experiment like they were lab rats.”

“Well-” Dick started to justify it, but Peter knew that even if it seemed like the most logical explanation, it would still be wrong.

“Well nothing, Dick. They were people.”

“So?” Peter’s head snapped over his shoulder to meet Dick’s glowing eyes. At least, they seemed to be glowing.

“So?! That’s all you have to say?!” The full gravity of Peter’s situation dawned on him. The person he was sitting with, while not completely dark and vicious, was morally grey and would not hesitate to do whatever would benefit him and all that he cared about.

“People are expendable,” the casualty with which Dick said that was like a knife to the gut, “they come and go and it’s natural. Our history precedes us and our kind, from the slums and the impoverished, are known to be those who either kill for survival or for fun, but killers nonetheless. Times may change, Peter, and so will civilizations,” Dick stood up from the bed, the springs beneath him creaking as they righted themselves, “but humans will always stay the same. Till the very end.”

Peter let go of the sheets, his grip starting to rip through the seams. Instead, he clenched his fists hard, back towards the door and Dick, his face shadowed in the darkness.

“This is the world that you’ll be living in from now on, Pete. Harley was already living in it before you came along. She got used to it. She survived. Now, it’s your turn. And I hate to do this, bambi, but behave,” Peter flinched at the warning note in his tone, similar to Tony’s when Peter did something in the lab but with a much more vicious intent, “before my family and I are forced to do anything drastic.”

“You’d kill me?” There was a pause before Dick answered. It made Peter sick to know that Dick had to hesitate. It meant that he could if he wanted to. At least, he could if Peter didn’t have his powers. Dick stood up and headed to the door as he responded.

“No, we don’t kill anyone unless we really have to. You’re close with a lot of our family and our associates so that gives you rapport, but don’t think for a second that we won’t do something if you force our hand.” The older man paused for a second, hand on the knob.

“On another note, it would probably be best if you didn’t leave the house for a few days. Just for, you know. Safety purposes.”

‘Mine or yours?’ The vigilante thought silently before asking,

“So you’re locking me in here?” The golden halo of light that bent around Dick made it seem as if his eyes were glowing as he looked back at his guest-turned-prisoner.

“If you want to call it that. You still have free reign of the manor, bambi, and all of its features, but for now, leaving is out of the question. At least until my family and I get this situation figured out.”

‘What’s there to figure out?’ It wasn’t as if he was someone important. They already have the police under their control, and it was a lengthy process getting other government factors into play, like the FBI. If he were to do that, he’d have to play the long game and Peter truthfully didn’t know how much time he had left.

In his thoughts, the younger man didn’t see the way Dick’s hand tightened on the knob of the door or how his shoulders tensed slightly; didn’t see the way the blues of Dick’s eyes glinted guiltily before he turned away. Peter was silent as Dick left, closing the door until only a slight crack revealed a sliver of light into the room.

Of all the Wayne family, he didn’t think Dick would be the one to deliver the threat. He thought Jason or Damian would be much better at it. However, he is aware of how he looks and they probably thought it would be best to have someone closer with him, and known to be softer than his brothers.

‘Yeah,’ Peter thought, ‘Dick was definitely the best person to send in.’

And now he was left with a dilemma. On one hand, Peter, who had entered this kind of life when he donned that red and blue suit, was on intimate terms with this lifestyle. He knew what it was like and was familiar with it.

On the other hand, he was on the opposite side of the Wayne family (at least, in this universe). He could not condone what they have done, are doing, and will do, even in the name of fighting against crime. So to sit idly by while they wreak this kind of havoc on streets like Gotham’s, which are already very heavily shrouded in crime and darkness, weighs heavily on his heart and on his mind.

“But I’m already so deep in,” he sighed to himself, his brows furrowing together before he perked up in realization.

‘Of course!’ Peter remembered the lesson that the Black Widow herself, Natasha Romanoff taught him a couple of years back.

“Make the best of your situation,” she said sternly just as they were about to be deployed on a mission, “and survive to the best of your ability. This life is messy, spiderling, and horrible. Roll with the punches. And remember,” her eyes were unreadable, Peter remembered, and very serious, “there is always opportunity in chaos.”

“There is always opportunity in chaos!” All Peter needed to do was to resolve this situation as best he could. That would mean going in himself and dismantling the Joker and his goons before the Wayne family ever have to get involved. Easier said but Peter’s done more difficult things. Then, he would need to speed the process of getting home. No more sitting on his ass and waiting for Dr. Strange to find him. He needed his own solution. Again, easier said than done but he would deal with his problems one at a time.

For now, he would deal with the one most prominent. Peter marched over to his bag, sitting by the desk and reached in, pulling out a small phone, frequently referred to as a burner. Typing in a number that he knew could be reached by, he sent a little text and waited for a reply.

It was time for preparations.

-----

Tony was hyperventilating.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked with terror in his tone, horror displayed plainly on his face. The boy er- man he had come to think of as a son was stuck in what was supposed to be a fictional world and had multiple men, all of whom looked like they could crush Peter, are chasing him because they like him.

‘What has the world come to?’ Stephen wrapped a supportive arm around his husband, who leaned into the touch, still as horrified as ever. It was about five minutes before Tony had had enough.

“Alright.” He stepped away from Stephen’s embrace. Stephen looked confused.

“Alright?”

“Alright,” Tony repeated. “I am getting my son back, if it’s the last thing I do. How do we do that?” The doctor was quiet for a moment.

“Alright,” he agreed (though it was a total overuse of the word ‘alright,’). “Let’s do this.”

-----

Peter scaled the wall, making sure that no one was looking. He had hacked into any street cameras nearby through a deployed gauntlet earlier and made sure that they were unable to spot him. Just in case someone had come looking. It was never a bad idea to make sure.

Not long after Dick had left his room, Peter locked it behind him and deployed his whole suit, putting it on stealth mode. After grabbing his backpack, he left through the lone window, making sure to be as quiet as he could be. It wasn’t hard considering his bone density lowered after the bite.

He crawled his way down to the ground and enabled cloaking, knowing that the Waynes were paranoid bastards. They probably had multiple contingency plans in place in case of an invader or many other things. From there, he ran towards the city at full speed, thankful for all the training he had gone through with the Avengers and Mr. Stark’s idea of having used the blueprints of Shuri’s Sneakers design and implementing them into the suit.

Everything was a blur as Peter ran at full speed (at his full speed, he can keep up with Bucky and Steve, and with time, probably pass them) and by the time he reached the edge of the city, he started swinging with his webs.

It was exhilarating to be doing this again. Peter found himself with a genuine grin on his face, a rarity since becoming stranded in Gotham. The familiarity of flying through the air at breakneck speeds, his backpack bouncing behind him as he grips onto the webs that he manufactured himself. The wind passed him by and it was like he was back in New York, saving people from the crimes of the night. Oh, how he missed it. He missed everything about it. New York was home, after all. Home.

‘I want to go home,’ he thinks morosely, severely lonely and depressed. The smile slid right off his face. His thoughts were silent the rest of the trip. It was about ten minutes before he landed on the roof of the Captain’s. No one was on the roof, as far as he could sense.

‘Good,’ he thought as he dropped down and retracted the suit around him. Walking towards the edge of the building, Peter crouched down and set his backpack onto the ground, bringing out a notebook and a pencil while waiting for his soon-to-be partner in crime. He dangled his feet over the side of the building as he wrote down what he was thinking.

About five minutes later, Peter could hear the strong heartbeat of Slade, and to the untrained (read: un-superpowered) ear, silent footsteps.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” Slade said quietly. Peter turned at the sound of his voice and gave him a small smile. Slade looked at him with a curious and attentive eye.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice came out slightly hoarse. Slade’s eye narrowed minutely, his leather jacket squeaking as he crossed his arms (they bulged out and holy shit, this is not the place, Peter!).

“What happened?” Peter let out a small laugh. He must’ve noticed my red rimmed eyes.

“Always straight to the point.”

“Did someone hurt you?” Slade’s tone was dangerous. The smile was off his face in an instant and he started to shake his head vigorously.

“No! Not at all!” The mercenary didn’t look convinced. Peter pursed his lips and in an effort to be sincere, he stood up and walked over to Slade, reaching and grasping his gloved hand in Peter’s own. The difference was rather stark. Slade was huge, afterall.

‘Not just in that one way,’ Peter’s inner thoughts seemed to smirk. Peter shook his head of that thought before a blush could spread over his cheeks.

“Slade,” he says, “I promise you that no one hurt me. However,” a blue eye sharpened at that, “someone did hurt one of my friends and kidnapped the other.”

“The clown girl?” Peter scowled and slapped Slade’s arm (as gently as he could).

“She is not a clown,” Slade raised an eyebrow (over the eye not in the patch). “But, yes, Harley. They kidnapped her and put Babs into the hospital.” The other eyebrow shot up, making a look of surprise.

“The Commissioner’s daughter? Betting the Waynes loved that.”

“Oh yeah, they’re over the moon,” Peter deadpanned. “The problem is I need help tracking Harley down.” Slade was silent for a moment.

“The Waynes wouldn’t help?” Peter shook his head, chestnut curls bouncing with the motions.

“It’s not that. They don’t need to be involved in this.”

“They’re going to be involved anyways. Aren’t you living at their house? Your friend was even there.” Peter let go of Slade’s hand, which seemed to twitch and hesitate, sighing.

“This will be faster. They’re in the limelight constantly. While I don’t doubt their investigative prowess, it’ll be harder for them versus, say, you. Also, they found out that I know. You know, about them?” The mercenary nodded in understanding.

“Okay.” Peter paused, hoping it meant what he wanted.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Slade voiced his assent. “What do you need me to do?” Peter thought for a moment. He is pretty sure he can trust Slade. At the very least, if things truly go to shit, he has another home (world) to go to (though that really defeats the purpose of Uncle Ben’s words). Despite being a mercenary, Slade has yet to do anything that would make Peter deem him untrustworthy. It was also a gut feeling. Slade wouldn’t betray Peter.

“Slade,” Peter called, looking up at the taller man through long and dark eyelashes, “I can trust you, right?” Slade eyed the really innocent yet somehow sultry look.

‘Damn kid really knows how to work me,' he thinks.

“Yeah,” Slade nodded. “Yeah, you can, sweetheart.” The younger man was silent for a moment before he finally decided.

“Good. Because what I’m about to show you is on a need to know basis. I’m counting on literally no one believing you unless I let them know too.” At this, Slade cocked his head.

“Let me know what?” Peter didn’t answer the question. Instead, he started packing up his stuff, putting his laptop and notebook back into his backpack.

“First, let’s go see a certain someone.”

-----

While Slade drove to the hospital, Peter had checked the security cameras around the area before going in. Commissioner Gordon had gone home for the night as visiting hours were over. The father was obviously very distraught at being separated from his injured child but not even Bruce Wayne could tell sleep-deprived nurses and hospital staff what to do.

“Okay, pull off here,” Peter directed Slade onto a road that was a little ways away from the side of the hospital. This was where the least amount of security cameras were and the cameras that were there, he had made fabricated footage to insert into the tapes, made easy by Mr. Stark’s suit and Ned’s hard and software that they integrated.

“Where’d you even learn how to do that?” Slade asked as he side-eyed Peter hacking into the cameras. Peter shrugged, a small smirk curving his lips. He was finally able to show that he is more capable than he seems. Slade had snorted at his lack of an answer, apparently amused.

They exited the car, making sure to grab their things. Slade tried to grab all the equipment in the back but Peter managed to convince him to leave it; that it’d be heavier than they needed.

“Hey, I said I trusted you. You said I could, right?” Slade seemed to know what Peter was going to say but indulged him anyway (very much so exasperatedly, but still).

“Yes, I said you could, sweetheart.”

“Then I want you to trust me.”

“I do,” Slade said without hesitation. Peter felt a rush of warmth through his chest before brushing it aside.

‘It’s not the time for this right now,’ he scolded himself.

“Then please trust me when I say that we do not need all that shit in the back.” The mercenary scowled.

“That’s my equipment, sweetheart. I regularly need and use that ‘shit in the back,’” he said with air quotes. Peter snickered at him.

“Well, don’t worry, okay? I know what I’m doing.” Slade had a dubious look on his face, though his expression barely changed since he met Peter on the rooftop. Finally, the taller man’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Fine,” there was a heavy and exasperated note in his tone, “but if we end up dying, I’m going to blame you.” Peter’s doe brown eyes scrunched up into crescents as he smiled. A slight dimple showed and Slade suddenly forgot what he was thinking about.

“Don’t worry, Slade. I’ll protect you.” Peter was pretty sure even the cameras could pick up the loud snort that came from Slade, even though they were audio silent.

-----

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Slade whisper-shouted as they approached the side wall of the hospital. Peter glanced behind him before looking back up at the wall of the hospital. Nearest the top floor is where Peter knows where Barbara’s room is. They’ll need to climb to the top. Peter smirked.

“I’m getting ready to climb.” Slade blinked.

“With what?! We left all the equipment in the car!” Peter shrugged with a look on his face that said ‘and?’ Suddenly, the younger man’s face got serious. “Alright Slade. What I’m about to show you is a secret. Harley doesn’t even know. For now, I want to keep it that way.” Peter waited until Slade nodded in agreement before rolling up his sleeve and rotating the wheel on his watch. The top screen popped upwards and he pressed down on it, activating his suit.

Peter felt the nanobots climb all over him, covering him from head to toe. It still retained the new car smell that Peter remembered telling Mr. Stark. He spread and clenched his hands, revelling in the feel of the suit back on his skin and the knowledge that he could now use his powers again without holding back. He looked towards Slade, ignoring the wide eye that was directed at him and held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

It was a few moments before Slade physically shook himself out of the little funk he was in and took Peter’s hand without a word, though his stance was wary. While holding Slade’s hand, Peter turned around and placed his large hand onto his shoulder.

“Alright,” he said with utter seriousness in his voice, “get on.” Slade was silent again.

“What?!” Peter rolled his eyes and faced the mercenary. He stepped forward and took both his hands, turned back around and let them fall onto his shoulders.

The spider themed superhero reached back and grabbed Deathstroke by the unders of his knees and surged upwards, lifting the mercenary onto his back. Slade’s torso fell over Peter’s head and for a moment, Peter was sure that the man on his back fell through the sheer shock of someone Peter’s height and weight (literally half of Slade’s) lift someone like him.

“Okey dokey. Hold on,” he sang and jumped about 20 feet into the air and onto the building, revelling in the catch in Slade’s breath as he clung onto Peter with a tight grip as Peter stuck to the wall with his feet alone.

“What the actual fuck.” The shock in his partner’s statement made Peter laugh.

“I’ll explain later, okay? Right now, we have a job.”

“You’d better,” he’d heard Slade grumble. It only made him laugh more.

-----

“What happened?” Bruce asked his first son as he descended the stairs. Dick had that steely look in his eyes, the one he had when he was forced to do something drastic, and it made Bruce antsy. There wasn’t much that could faze his eldest but it would’ve been bad if he had that certain glint in the blues of his eyes.

“I told him.” While the Wayne head had an inkling about what Dick told the little object of all his son’s affections (and the platonic affections of his unofficial daughter), he preferred if Dick told him straight.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“I told him about my parents and that he should get used to this life because he’s in it now.” Dick looked directly at his adoptive father.

“Does he have to be though? I don’t want him to be.” Bruce sighed.

“It can’t be helped, Dick. He knows.” Bruce noticed something. “What else did you tell him?” His son was silent for a moment, realizing he was caught. Of course, Bruce and everyone else in his family know him better than anyone else in the world. No one else could get close enough anyway.

“I said that he shouldn’t leave the manor for a while. At least until we figure this out.” Bruce smirked at his son, eyes full of knowing.

“There isn’t anything to talk over, Dick. He can walk free if he doesn’t have any proof. You’re just trying to keep him here longer.” The eldest Wayne child stiffened before slumping.

“Before he inevitably leaves us.”

“Is that what’s going to happen?” Damian came from nowhere, signature scowl on his face. His other brothers followed him as they, too, showed similar expressions of displeasure.

“He has no proof of anything and he'll be staying for a few days. What more can we ask for?” Jason crossed his arms over his massive chest, though looking impossibly small next to his youngest brother.

“His forgiveness is too much. He won’t forgive us and we don’t expect him to, Dick.” Tim was right, however Dick couldn’t help but fight back.

“He knew the entire time, guys. He knew we were shady and the way we are.” Damian snorted.

“Anyone with eyes and half a brain can, Grayson. It’s not that impressive.” Damian gestured to each of them. “We don’t exactly hide it.”

‘Though people can be oh so dumb,’ the youngest thinks derisively. Bruce hummed, effectively silencing all other voices in the room.

“Though,” he said, tone thoughtful, “he could be useful. He’s helped Tim with countless things and Dick has a point. If he knew we were dangerous, why didn’t he stay away?” Everything was still silent. “I think it’s worth a shot to convince him to stay.” Damian scoffed.

“That may be, father, but his one reason to stay is now gone. How do you propose we convince him then? Save her, and then extort his good will into staying because we saved his best friend?” The head of the Wayne household smirked. His sons never failed him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tim mused, a pondering expression on his face. Jason grinned with a feral ferocity.

“I’m down.” The bass in his voice was rumbling. He really liked the idea. Dick smiled.

“It also involves tracking down the asshole who did this to Babs, so hell yes. You know, Buce, Commissioner Gordon is going to want to get in on this too right?” Bruce nodded, hair flopping as he does so.

“Of course he is welcome to join. He’s like family. So,” he made eye contact with each of his sons and Alfred, who had snuck himself in a while ago, “why don’t we get to work?”

It was phrased as a question but everyone in the room knew it wasn’t one. The ravenous and vengeful looks in their eyes were enough to make even Lex Luthor anxious.

-----

The beep of the EKG machine broke Peter’s heart as he and Slade silently entered the dark hospital room. Through his suit’s lenses, he could see the basic outlines of things with their heat signatures. People on the night shift were passing by their door but other than that, no one but him, Slade, and an unconscious Babs were in the hospital room. Peter carefully let Slade slide off his back, taking care not to make noise.

“Stay there,” Peter whispered and headed forward, evading the efforts of his partner to grab him and pull him back to his hulking figure. He had identified a lamp and crept up on it, pulling on the little metal string, illuminating the room.

Something sailed towards his head and his Spidey Sense went crazy. He caught it in mid-air, instincts quick and precise. He turned around and observed the object thrown. A knife lay in his hand, bright against the light of the lamp. Barbara Gordon lay in bed, eyes open with caution and determination, switching between looking at him and Slade, hand in the air.

“Who-” she wheezed, coughing heavily, “who the fuck are you?” Peter, in a sign of goodwill, placed the knife gently onto the ground and held up his hands in a surrender.

“It’s okay, Babs, it’s just me.” The helmet retracted to show his face, much to the red head’s surprise. “It’s Peter.” The shock in her blue eyes made him chuckle a bit. It almost made him want to see Slade’s face when he had found out earlier.

“What the fuck Peter. I could’ve killed you!” Peter smiled knowingly.

“No,” he said softly, “you wouldn’t have.” She looked on in shock while Slade stood by silently. Peter approached the bed, the suit retracting completely as the nanobots slid smoothly back into his watch. “How are you?”

Babs scoffed.

“I’ve been better,” she said sardonically, though her eyes were alight with pain. Peter’s face softened at her obvious hurt.

“Yeah. But hey,” a charming smile stretched across his face, “at the very least, you’re as beautiful as ever.” Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes (a few of them trailed down her face), and she let out a wet laugh.

“I’m never going to walk again,” came a whisper but the words were no less devastating. Peter felt like he was punched in the gut and reached out to grab her hand, which squeezed his back with a ferocity that belied her devastation.

“That’s what the doctors said?” She nodded, obviously choked up. Peter clenched his teeth and looked over at Slade, only to find him staring at the scene in front of him with an observing eye. “Well, don’t worry. Slade and I are going to get to the bottom of this.”

“But, I thought Dick and Bruce were going to do that?” Was it okay to lie? He’s gotten better at it. Natasha is a really good teacher.

“We’re helping,” he lied straight through his teeth, aware of Slade stiffening on the other side of the room. Babs scoffed again.

“If that was the case, then why are you sneaking in when you can literally just walk in through the doors?” Damn Babs for being so smart. He quickly came up with an excuse.

“Because visiting hours are over and I’d rather not have my name on the visitor logs?” Barbara shrugged, wincing at the pain that the movement brought.

“Fair enough.”

“I just want to know what happened and anything that can help us figure out where Harley is.” A pained look took over Babs’ expression.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. If only we didn’t go out.”

“That’s not your fault Babs. You don’t have to feel guilty. However, I would appreciate it if you could tell us what you two were doing that night.” Barbara sighed, tucking stray strands of ginger hair behind an ear.

“She was contacted by her ex about a week ago and said he had wanted to apologize. He sent an address and told her to come and meet him. She didn’t want to go alone and she didn’t want you in danger so she asked me to come.” Tears sprang to Babs’ eyes. It was jarring to see someone usually so put together break down. “It was obviously a trap but we thought we could handle it between us two. We were wrong.”

Peter was quiet for a while. While he could be mad at Barbara and Harley for not telling him, he was also mad at himself.

‘Why didn’t I tell them about my powers right away? Maybe if I did, this all could’ve been avoided.’ Harley was yet another person on the growing list that Peter could not save. Guilt weighed heavily on his chest and it was likely that it weighed the same on his redheaded friend’s as well. He reached out and clasped her shoulder with a bare hand.

“It’s not your fault, Babs. Slade and I will get her back, so don’t worry,” he said softly. Blue eyes swiveled to meet his doe brown.

“How can you be so forgiving, Pete?” It came out as a whisper but her heartbreak was easily identified. Peter smiled sadly.

“Despite what you all think, I am familiar with situations like these. Now,” he came closer to the bed, “was there anything at all that could hint about where the Joker took Harley?” Her eyebrows pulled together and her expression became pinched. It was about a minute before she spoke again.

“I-I don’t remember much. A lot of pain, but,” she swallowed thickly, “as I was passing out, I heard someone say something about the sewers. It’s all pretty blurry after that but I definitely remember it.” Peter’s brows furrowed and he looked back at Slade who shrugged. The chestnut haired boy rolled his eyes.

‘So he’s no help.’ He sighed. ‘Looks like it’s come down to this.’ He pushed his sleeve back to reveal his watch. Peter tapped on the screen and let it go into unlock mode.

“Karen,” he said, and it was only a second before the AI that Mr. Stark had created for him, the AI that he hasn’t talked to in a month responded.

“Hello Peter,” her odd voice answered, and while it could be surprising to others, it only served to give him comfort. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you remotely hack into the Gotham City Hall’s record system?” Peter made eye contact with Babs’ wide eyes and he then looked over to his partner, and saw his narrowed eye. He had a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, I’m in. What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for the most updated, recent plans and blueprints for the Gotham sewer system.” Another minute before a hologram popped from his watch, the wide prints of the sewers showcased obviously.

“Here. Is there something you would like me to look for specifically?”

“Yeah. Any spaces that can be used as a base of operations, where about 50 people can work?” The hologram zoomed into a spot on the blueprints.

“After analyzing the data, I believe the place you’re looking for is right here. It is directly underneath the Gotham Harbor.” Peter looked towards Barbara.

“You think she can be there?” The woman sputtered before answering.

“Uh- Yeah. Yeah, that can definitely be it. Um, Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What was that?” Peter gave a small smile.

“This is my AI, Karen. Karen, this is Barbara Gordon and Slade Wilson. They’re friends of mine.”

“Nice to meet you,” was her cordial answer.

“Awesome,” Barbara breathed.

-----

“I’ll come visit you after this is over okay?”

“Wait, you’re not going to do this yourselves, are you?” Peter paused, briefly looking down at Slade who had made it to the ground safely.

“We’re working with-”

“Peter.” Her interruption shut him up quickly. She knew.

“I know that you’re not working with them.” A pause.

“Is it that obvious?”

“What happened?” Another pause of silence lapsed.

“I found out. About them. And their jobs. The one not known.” To Peter’s superhuman ears, he heard her breath being caught in her throat.

“And then what?”

“I told him that I have no proof. He told me that I should stay in the manor for now.”

“Dick did?” Peter nodded. “And you didn’t listen?” He smirked over his shoulder, getting ready to drop. There was only so much time. Who knew what the Joker would do to Harley if he didn’t stop him.

“Have I ever really been one to listen?” She gave a small chuckle.

“I guess not.” Peter’s eyes softened.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m more capable than you know.” The smile on her face matched his.

“Good luck.”

On the way back to the truck, Slade was quiet. Peter could tell he was also brooding. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the vehicle that he broke the silence.

“Slade, I know that was a shock, but you have to understand, I couldn’t tell any-” The mercenary held up a large hand. Peter quickly quieted.

“Look, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything. Don’t get so caught up. Plus, we can talk about this later, when this is all over. For right now, focus on the mission.” Peter nodded, a contemplative look on his face as Slade started the engine and pulled out of the area. The superhero pulled up the camera feed and began rolling it again, wiping any evidence that they were ever there. Then, a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, Slade?” The mercenary hummed in reply.

“What if we don’t make it?” His answer was instantaneous.

“We’ll make it.”

“But-”

“We’ll make it!” His voice was rough and the statement came out in a growl. Peter clenched his teeth.

“You never know,” he said quietly. Slade shook his head.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned his head to look Peter in the eyes. His one eye was dead serious and assured. “I promise.”

It wasn’t for another few minutes that Peter responded.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I believe you. Now. Let’s go beat some clown ass.”

Slade’s laugh could be heard a mile away.

-----

Tim paged everyone in the family, who all rushed down to the Cave, save for Dick, who had gone to talk to Peter.

“I found where they are.” Damian crossed his arms, sneering.

“And how exactly did you do that, Drake?” Tim rolled his eyes.

“I highly doubted that the Joker would be above ground, since we have influence over a majority of Gotham. Joker lost his territory to Cobblepot earlier last year, after his encounter with Jason and they hate each other. So I was stumped as to where I could find him. Then, I remembered the underground of Gotham, consisting mostly of sewage systems. However, within those systems, I can only count a handful of places where he could hide. I’m betting he’s there.” Damian scoffed, green eyes hard.

“All conjecture.” His older brother shrugged, hair flopping.

“Maybe, but we don’t have much time. Besides, my instincts are almost never wrong. You know this, Demon Spawn.” Jason snorted.

“Alfred’s kitchen would seem to disagree.” Semblances of smiles appeared on everyone’s face, except for Tim’s, who sported a pout.

“How was I supposed to know that the spoon was in the bowl?!”

“Alfred told you, like, five times, Timmers.”

“It was 7 in the morning! I hadn’t had my coffee! It’s not my fault.” A huff.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“UGH!”

-----

“Peter?” Dick knocked on the door, voice and eyes soft. “Peter, are you there?” Silence met his questions. “We think we’ve made headway on where Harley is.” Still no reply. “Alright, well, I just wanted you to know.” Hurt was mirrored in his tone and Dick hesitated at the door, wanting to just burst in but he knew he couldn’t. He had already been cruel (any act of aggression against Peter was already labelled cruelty) to him earlier and didn’t want to fan the flames. “Call us if you need us.” The ‘call me if you need me specifically,’ was unsaid but understood.

Too bad he was talking to an empty room.

“Did Peter say anything?” Bruce asked as he watched his son descend the stairs once more. Dick shook his head and Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Head up, chum. Peter will forgive you. I know it. Besides, you could use Harley as leverage. Save her but for the price of staying with us. I’m not entirely sure I like the thought of him leaving either.” Dick raised an eyebrow. It was rare for Bruce to admit something so emotional (emotional for this family. We all know they literally have the emotional capacity of a fucking packing peanut. Like, collectively.).

“Maybe. We’ll see. Is everyone ready to go?” The head of the household smirked.

“Yup. We have several locations saved and we’ll need to split up when we get there.” Dick nodded, a similar grin on his face.

“Alright then. Let’s go put an end to this joke once and for all.”

-----

“Did we really need to contact him though?!” Tony whined at his husband, completely disregarding the man clad in black, green, and gold standing in front of them.

“I appreciate the love, Stark. And might I remind you that I am the one who volunteered to help you retrieve your son?” Tony scowled at the God of Mischief.

“You’re only helping because you like Peter.” Loki shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“Yes, I suppose I am. You’re lucky I like the little spider.” The genius rolled his eyes, aware of his husband rolling his own eyes at him.

“Whatever. What do we do?” Loki smirked.

“You tell me what you know and we get to work.”

Tony grumbled.

“Better be quick.”

He just wanted his son back.

Previous: Part 6

Next: Part 8

#Peter Parker #Batfamily #MafiaBatFam #Mob Boss Bruce Wayne #Mob Boss Dick Grayson #Mob Boss Jason Todd #Mob Boss Tim Drake #Mob Bodd Damian Wayne #Marvel & DC Crossover

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sopewriters · 5 years ago

Text

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 02

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

Previous: 01

“Joker.” His name leaves your parted lips in single breathless whisper.

He grins at you, having heard it anyway, and steps closer. At your side, Mark tenses up. “Right in one. Mind if we had ourselves a little chat?”

You frown, immediately suspicious. Everything in you screams at you not to take the man in front of you lightly, knowing just how tricky he can be; plus, the fact that he’s come to you is really rubbing you the wrong way. Why would a villain ever approach a hero? Or, well, a vigilante, in your case, but your point still stands.

“That depends.” Mark finally answers for you, seeing as how your eyes are still narrowed at Joker’s still form. “What makes you want to talk, all of a sudden?”

“Gravitas.” Joker’s smile grows a little sharper, less cheerful. “Don’t tell me you’re still hung up over what happened last time. You’re the one who ran into that billboard, you know; I really had nothing to do with that one.”

Mark’s body thrums with tension, muscles pulled taut, and despite your terse conversation, you reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder. Getting him strung up right now is a bad idea, especially because he’s usually the one calming you down and there’s nothing in the manual for it happening the other way around.

“Yeah, well, could you get to the point, maybe?” You pull away from Mark, crossing your arms threateningly. “Listening to you beat around the bush like this is really starting to tire me out.”

“Your guy started it first.” Joker says with an exaggerated shrug; mostly for your benefit. “But, if you insist, I’ll move on. You have always been extraordinarily straightforward.”

The muscles of your legs tense as he scrutinizes the two of you, prepared for every possibility if things went south. Joker must like what he sees, because a little smile quirks the corner of his lips, making him look, all too suddenly, very attractive.

You flush immediately at the thought, grateful for the darkness and your shadows for keeping the blush from being visible on your burning cheeks. Where the hell did that come from?

“I’ve been looking into the both of you.” He admits easily, and all thoughts of his appearance fly out the window. “Our last encounter was pretty interesting, even if it was laughably easy – maybe because stupid Gemini didn’t show up, for once.”

Under the feelings of offence that immediately sprout up, you register that he must be talking about Mark’s superhero idol. Based on the way Mark clenches his fists, this is most likely true.

“Yeah, it must be pretty difficult for you, what with him always foiling your plans.” Mark shrugs delicately, voice suddenly cool. It sends a ripple of shockwaves through you because wow, you’ve never heard this tone of voice from him. He’s always been too – too bubbly. Joker must really be pushing his buttons. “I can understand that.”

Joker finally frowns, for the first time tonight, stepping back. And while the sight should fill you with delight, it doesn’t. It makes you feel a little guilty, actually, and you have no idea why.

“I’m starting to see I should’ve thought this through.” He tilts his head slightly, meeting your eyes. Despite how penetrating it is, you do your best to meet his stare unwaveringly; though, admittedly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be. “Maybe I should try and come by again some other time.”

His smirk is sharp enough to cut, but his eyes... they look sad. “For the only competent one of the two of you, obviously. Wouldn’t want to waste my time talking to a stick in the mud.”

With that, he vanishes – yet another illusion. Unlike last time, however, you’re expecting it and, so, don’t bat an eyelash at his sudden disappearance.

Instead, you turn to Mark, finding him clenching his jaw in obvious frustration. You shouldn’t be able to see that even through the mask, but it stands out prominently and, admittedly, has you a little concerned. Why is this bothering Mark so much? You’ve seen him take more serious ribbing with a smile.

At your questioning gaze, Mark’s posture eventually loosens up and he sighs, shaking his head. “I – I’m sorry. I should – I should probably go, huh?”

“Not when I’m the one giving us a lift back.” You raise a brow, perturbed by the sudden 180. “You want to talk about what that was, back there?”

“Not really, no.” Mark’s eyes are beginning to glaze over from the cold breeze. “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just… something about that guy really rubs me the wrong way. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t take anything seriously? It frustrates me that he has the nerve to badmouth J-Gemini when he’s a villain.”

“We’re not really the type to have warm, mushy feelings for the superheroes either,” you point out, though with a sigh you do admit, “I do see your point, though.”

You really only add that last bit for Mark’s benefit. Even though he’d never admit it to you, what he has for Gemini is nothing short of, well, hero worship. And it still doesn’t make sense to you that he’d get that offended over it, what with the constant debates over superheroes on the news. They’ve said worse about Gemini.

Letting his excuse slide for now, you decide to move onto the next most important thing. “What should we do about Joker, though?”

Mark just barely lifts up his mask to rub at his face. “I don’t know. He said he’s going to come to you, didn’t he?”

“He did.” You confirm, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “I guess I’ll be fine; he didn’t seem like he was going to try to pull anything stupid.”

“He’s still dangerous.” Mark reminds you, beginning to look a little concerned himself. “Maybe we should ask for help? I know you don’t like involving actual superheroes, but—”

“Then you know my answer.” You say stiffly. “I’ll wait for Joker to contact with me whenever. For now, let’s go find some people to help.”

Your fingers twitch sporadically against their resting spot on your thighs as you force yourself not to think about it – about heroes and their stupid, unwavering morality.

And their mortality.

When Mark moves to say something, you hold up your hand. “You can’t change my mind, so don’t even try. Leave it alone.”

Mark pauses, blinking lightly.

“I was just going to say that I’m looking forward to, uh, beating some people up.” He’s probably smiling timidly at you from behind his mask. “Want to race to see who can stop more crimes tonight?”

Now this is more like it. It provides you with ample distraction – probably enough to last you the rest of the night.

“It won’t be much of a competition if we know who’s going to win.” You grin at him, bad mood almost entirely forgotten. “Meet you at the clock tower in an hour!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

When you slip back into your room, shadows melting away your suit and replacing it with the clothes you were wearing earlier – shorts and a comfortable t-shirt – you immediately chance a glance over your shoulder. There’s no way you could have been followed, what with traveling through the shadows, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Besides… ever since you’ve taken up vigilantism, it’s been getting harder and harder to fall asleep. The shadows are your allies, but they seem to creep in on you as you lie in bed, looming tall and making it difficult to breathe. They whisper at you, taunt you; they question everything you’ve done, every choice you’ve made.

Was it really for the best? They murmur into your ears, poison. You could’ve done better. You know you should’ve.

For that reason, you resolutely choose to crawl into bed and not sleep until you can no longer put it off; at least, then, you won’t have to listen to them.

You crack open your laptop, typing in your long, elaborate password – hello, paranoia – before biting your lip. Your cursor, the source of your conundrum, hovers uncertainly over your browser window as your eyes dart between it and the video file you’ve minimized for later.

Said video may or may not have been ripped from the police tape you had, uh, borrowed earlier. It’s not stealing if you’ve given it back.

But the point is… should you? It’s incredibly tempting, to be honest, to just do away with the tape for one night and spend time perusing Netflix instead. The more you think about it, the more you like the idea. Yeah, you should definitely do that.

Satisfied with your apt decision-making, you settle back into your pillows, pulling up Netflix and setting yourself up to marathon the second season of How to Get Away with Murder. It’s going to be a long night, sure – but at least it’s going to be an enjoyable one.

Somewhere through the season, you realize a little blearily that there’s some weird buzzing noise filling the air. Frowning, you reluctantly pause the episode and grope around your bed until you find your phone; funnily enough, it’s pretty much under your butt.

Blinking at the harsh light that comes from your screen, you quickly lower the brightness before actually reading the notification.

Jung Jaehyun, it reads. Regarding Open Lab Positions.

Your eyebrows fly up, and you quickly squash down the sudden excitement that flares up in you; there’s obviously no way he’s sent this email to just you, and you have no idea why you’re getting this worked up over it. You open the email anyway.

Hello all!

As I’m sure you’re aware, Professor Kim has a couple of volunteer lab positions open starting next quarter, if any of you are interested. As she explained at the end of last class, you’ll be starting off with basic jobs – cleaning equipment, etc. – but will slowly work up to actually assisting other researchers – like myself! – with laboratory procedures. If you feel this is something that you could do, please send in your resumé to my email, in a separate thread.

Cheers,

Jaehyun

Holding back a snort at his closing phrase, you evaluate your options.

You’ve worked at a couple of labs before, so you know for a fact that you can do this. It’s just… cleaning things up? You’ve been there and done that and, while you still have to do it even once you’ve worked your way up, that doesn’t mean you want it to be the only thing you do. But, well. Building experience is important, isn’t it?

You ignore the tiny voice in your head that (correctly) informs you that you’re doing this because of Jaehyun. That’s – psh – that’s absolutely ridiculous. Totally.

It’s for your work experience and nothing else, shut up.

You quickly pull up your resumé and give it a lazy once-over – something you would normally never do – because you’re honestly just too tired to give it a deeper glance. Waiting until tomorrow gives your rationality a great opportunity to kick in, which you’re not particularly keen on; plus, you’ll probably give in and ask F/N, who will definitely say no.

You quickly compose a short email saying you’re super interested and would love to join the team; you nearly forget to add the attachment but, thankfully, you end up remembering just as you’re about to send it.

There. You’ve done it. You’ll probably regret it in the morning, but… you’ve done it, and that’s what matters, obviously.

Sighing, you put away your laptop. You’re tired enough to fall asleep now, you think, and a cup of coffee in the morning will fix whatever lingering regrets this burning the night oil has left you with.

It turns out that not even a cup of coffee can help your mood this morning. And it’s not just because of the idiotic decision you made last night either.

“Did you hear?” F/N accosts you first thing, latching onto your arm as you take your first sip of salvation. “About what happened last night?”

You squint at her, taking in her pale face, trembling lips. “No, and I don’t particularly care. I have a 9am to go to, so if—”

“There was a murder.” The words die on your tongue, the bitterness of coffee all-too-suddenly exploding in your mouth when F/N meets your eyes, serious. “Last night, someone was murdered.”

You nearly drop your cup, setting it down faintly. “What?”

“Yeah.” F/N worries her bottom lip, glancing off to the side, looking decidedly pale. “There are pictures all over the internet. There were even some on our school’s SNS, but they’re being taken down as soon as they’re popping up.”

“And?” Your eyes are wide, but you’re giving this your full attention, headache be damned.

F/N exhales through her teeth. “It… it wasn’t pretty. They’re saying that the victim was dead after the first strike – but there are so many wounds on him… stab wounds, but not from a knife.”

She looks vaguely sick as she recalls this and you figure it has to be a really gruesome sight, if it’s unsettling her this much. You’re starting to feel a little nauseous yourself as you realize you were out for a good part of the night – and you didn’t see anything happen.

“Which sector was it in?” You ask hurriedly. “Did they say who did it?”

“Our sector.” She confirms your worst fears and fuck, fuck, fuck, you should’ve – you should’ve been there, should’ve been able to do something. “And, they think… well. Hold on.”

She hurriedly pulls out her phone, pulling up a news site as your heart thunders loudly in your ears, before showing you an image of the victim.

Your eyes grow wide, not at the smears of blood that stain the women’s skin – nor the angry, deep wounds littering her throat – but at the patch of burnt flesh right above her left breastbone. A vivid, elaborate J.

“Joker…” You breathe out horrified, head spinning at the implications. “What – but – no, that doesn’t make sense!”

“I thought so too, but it’s his mark and everything!” F/N looks just as anxious as you feel. “It’s exactly like the one on his calling card and, and – and—”

“And what?” You snap harshly when she flounders, before horror rushes through you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you!”

“I know, it’s okay. This is pretty… disturbing.” It is, but not for the reasons she’s thinking. F/N swallows before adding, softly. “They think something must have pissed Joker off pretty bad that he – that he resorted to this.”

��That doesn’t even make any sense.” You stare in disbelief at her. You might not know Joker pretty well, but isn’t this just too much? “He’s – he’s just a thief! A mastermind criminal, to be fair, but he’s never murdered people before.”

“Well, people change, don’t they?” F/N says, matter-of-fact. “I’m not saying I believe he’s done this, but… what if he has?” She begins to look a little pale again at the implication, and shakes her head. “I think I’m going to take a breather. I’ll catch you after classes.”

You can’t find it in you to respond, mind whirling with the possibilities. What F/N said is stuck in your head, on a dizzying loop.

What if, what if, what if, what if he has, what if—

What if Joker’s the one who really did it? Your hands tremble as you realize that this happened last night; that too, after he came to see you and Mark. You tuck your fingers into fists as you desperately wrack your brain for any signs you could’ve noticed to prevent this. Was he shaky, pale in any way? Was he behaving erratically?

You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration when you realize there’s no way you could know; you’re not – you’re not acquainted enough with Joker for that. Fucking damn it, damn it, then why’d he come to see you? To ask for help… help doing what? Murdering someone?

That doesn’t sound—

“Hey, uh, could you maybe move? You’re kind of in the way.”

You blink at the sudden interruption, eyes growing wide as you register a weight on your shoulders – your backpack – and the chilliness of the breeze against your skin. You’re outside? Another glance tells you that you’re right outside your lecture hall and that, yes, you really are blocking the way.

You stumble aside, breaths stuttering in your chest as you realize you have no idea how the fuck you got here, but. Maybe you just zoned out? That’s got to be it. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Mentally shaking yourself, you start walking into class, wondering how on earth you managed to think so hard about the Joker problem that you didn’t even notice walking all the way to class. You wouldn’t put it past yourself; sometimes you get really lost in thought. Still, you shouldn’t be as preoccupied as you are about this. There’s just something… something about it that begs for your attention.

You snap yourself back to attention as your professor walks into the room.

“We’re going to be starting on the subject of Icarus – and his fall.” He claps his had together cheerfully, pulling up the appropriate slide on the projector. Finally. “Pay attention guys; you’re going to want to, trust me, because your paper on this is going to count for 15% of your grade.”

That certainly warrants some serious focus, and you adjust yourself in your seat, new document sat ready for you to type some pretty detailed notes into your laptop.

Your professor smirks at the rustling that fills the room, as everyone panics and hurries to do what he’s asked. “Great. So, as always, we aren’t going to read the whole thing out in class – that’s for your TA to do – but we’ll discuss the key ideas that crop up throughout…”

You try to pay attention, you really do, but it’s not your fault that your professor’s voice is so sleep-inducing (though it is your fault for also not getting a full eight hours in last night like you were supposed to).

Your eyes flutter weakly, finally drifting shut.

You dream of hands. The run up along your sides, gentle even as they caress you – before their grip tightens by a fraction. Something warm curls over the skin of your throat as teeth graze over your shoulder. Your own hands come up to cradle his head as he mouths at the juncture of your shoulder, hot and insistent – and you tilt your head back, encouraging him.

“You’ve always been so beautiful.” The reverence in his tone lights a fire under your skin, in between your legs. “My darling Nyx, so fucking gorgeous.”

You don’t get to answering him, because his fingers are slipping between your thighs to caress your clit gently, making you gasp and arch into the touch. He feels so good, familiar in the way his free hand rubs circles into your hip as he slowly takes you apart on his fingers.

“Please…” The words fall from your lips easily, and you cant your hips desperately, aching to have his fingers inside of you already.

“You’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” There’s a smirk in his voice – you could recognize it in your sleep. “Look at you, absolutely stunning. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a slut for my cock.”

His fingers pull aside your underwear, finally dipping into your hole. Sweet, sweet relief courses through you as the heat in your veins grows unbearable, and you spread your legs wider, trying to encourage him to touch you more, take you – every part of you, anything he wants.

“Ah, I forgot.” He sounds smug, but he’s still so incredibly hot, even as he retracts his fingers, making a choked whine catch in your throat. “You are a slut for it, aren’t you? You’re even trying to ride my fingers, you’re so desperate.”

He’s right, he always is. You don’t care anymore for your pride or your dignity – you just need his hands on you, his mouth, his fingers, his cock. You need all of him.

“You make it so fucking hard to hold back.” He growls upon seeing your eyes dilate in pleasure, pinching your clit and allowing a strangled moan to escape your throat. “Shh now, darling; wouldn’t want to get caught, now, would we?”

“C-Caught?” You whimper as he catches your skin with his teeth, gently tugging at it, marking you – like you’re his, you think a little deliriously. “W-What?”

He pulls back then, though you fruitlessly try to pull him close again; as he does, his features are slowly illuminated by the light of the moon, highlighting his pink lips, strong jaw, piercing eyes and—

You jolt up when the girl sitting next to you clears out her desk, letting it retract into her seat with a loud bang. Your breathing’s a little quick, sweat beginning to dot your neck, and you have an uncomfortable ache between your legs. If you were alone, you’d waste no time in touching yourself to get the edge off – you’re so close – but you can’t, and it is excruciating.

Discretely, you rub your thighs together, praying to whatever higher power is up there that you can actually stand on your feet without collapsing. You duck your head, hoping no one can see your flaming cheeks. You feel so dirty, dreaming something like – something like that in the middle of class. You really need to get out of here, maybe get some air.

You quickly shove your things into your bag, clambering to your feet and booking it out of the lecture hall; hey, you haven’t tripped even once. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to figure out who the fuck it was in your dream, who took you apart so beautifully. Despite its inconvenient timing, your dream was actually really hot, and you’re lowkey regretting waking up.

It’s just… it all felt so real. And you really want to figure out who this mystery person is, so that you can at least gush to F/N about it. Maybe it’s one of your numerous celebrity crushes?

Your cheeks heat as you consider the thought in your head briefly, before shaking your head. No, something about that seems wrong. The familiarity in their movements, gestures, isn’t something you could just replicate in your head off a movie star or something. It’s someone you’ve at least met in real life, if not someone you know well.

The thought disturbs you a little, so you resolve to living in denial; you have no idea who this mystery man is, and that’s fine. Totally fine.

You have a discussion for one of your Gen Ed. classes now, but you don’t really plan on going. There’s no way you could possibly concentrate, with where you’re at and, quite honestly, you don’t feel like. It’s a really stupid class anyway, and you’re honestly taking it only for an easy A.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, making you jolt, and you fish it out, checking your home screen for the notification. And, oh, it’s Jaehyun.

A smile creeps onto your lips, entirely of its own volition.

Re: Open Lab Positions

Hey ______!

I was thrilled to receive your application despite a couple of typos I spotted in the actual email you sent me. Don’t panic! I saw your timestamp – you sent it around 3AM, I believe – and I have been where you are right now. I’m not judging you for it.

Unfortunately—

Your throat closes up here, but you force yourself to keep reading. Might as well rip off the band aid, even if it makes you bleed worse.

Unfortunately, I’m required to forward your email and resumé after I’ve accepted them to the professor, which is why I want to ask you to send in another email – this time after some proof-reading, of course. I’d love to have you on our team, and I’m sure the professor will agree once she sees your resumé. Does that work for you?

If it does, please make sure to do this by no later than 7pm today. I look forward to working with you!

- Jung Jaehyun

“Oh my god.” You nearly walk into your apartment door as you shakily read over the email. You applied on a total off chance; you didn’t think it would actually work and land you the job! Honestly, the only thing that could make this better is if you’d get paid for it too, but that’s probably a bit of a stretch.

You hastily type in your entry code, swinging open the door with much gusto and speeding to your room. You don’t run into your other roommate, which is great, really; you probably wouldn’t have paid them much mind. Hell, you might not even have paid F/N much attention, and she’s the love of your life.

You quickly pull out your laptop, barely remembering to shrug off your backpack so you can type properly. You read over it a few times, to be sure, before sending it to Jaehyun with a happy little noise escaping the back of your throat. This is super exciting – you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited.

And okay, yeah, maybe you don’t have a chance to be with Jaehyun. Scratch that, there’s probably no way you could ever do that. Jaehyun’s pretty much a God among men, and no one can change your mind about that. Still, spending time near him would be fun and, well, educational, if nothing else.

Letting out a happy sigh, you settle in your bed, drawing the covers tightly around yourself. With that, you’re feeling pretty great about yourself, which is a welcome change, and nothing could possibly ruin the rest of your day. You don’t even have to patrol tonight – it’s Mark’s turn to slug the night away on his own.

Now that you have nothing in particular to do – and a whole three hours to kill before your next class – your mind wanders. Absently reaching out a hand, you twist the shadows falling in the corner of your room into intricate shapes, smiling wryly when you unconsciously replicate Joker’s mask. You’ve only met him once and he’s already made quite the impact on you, hasn’t he?

You remember, then, that Joker is a murder suspect. That the smiling, playful man you met only yesterday is a cold-blooded killer, one who’s taken innocent lives. It’s – it’s fucked up, is what it is. You’ve actually conversed with a murderer, and that’s a chilling thought.

A tremor wracks through you.

You click open the video file you were supposed to look at last night; the copy you took from the police. In it, Joker’s slinking quietly in the shadows cast by the house’s impressive figure, back pressed to the wall before he darts inside, lightning-quick. There’s no sound, but there doesn’t seem to be any sort of commotion either.

Joker darts back out again, just as quick, but you now know that’s just an illusion meant to throw everyone off his trail. The real Joker is still inside the house, possibly searching for some more items to steal… but you don’t know where he exits from. The camera that monitors the back of the house doesn’t catch anything of substance either; only a clumsy raccoon that knocks over a trashcan.

“Where the hell did you go…?” You wonder quietly to yourself, watching both the tapes again, still finding nothing. Maybe he used a blind spot? Or was it something else?

A little investigation into the matter wouldn’t hurt now, would it? Standing up, you figure: ah, why the hell not. To hell with your day off. While Mark’s keeping an eye out for people needing help, you can do the grunt work for this particular case. Something tells you Joker’s sudden inclination for murder isn’t actually all that sudden.

There must be more.

You shut your laptop, shoving it back into your backpack. You still have time for your next class, but you should probably make yourself a decent lunch; you aren’t sure whether dinner’s still in the cards, not when you have a (half-developed) plan in mind.

Starting your investigation from when he’s supposedly committed his last ‘normal’ crime is going to help you. Maybe you can track what he’s probably done since then, or, at the very least, figure out his method of operating. Whatever the case, you’re going to figure it out, no matter how terrified you are. He’s a known murderer, pretty much, and that means – regardless of the truth – you’ll have to treat him carefully.

Maybe, if you’re lucky – or not – you’ll even get to meet Joker himself. You aren’t sure if you really want to, at this point, but you’ll take whatever you can. You’re grasping at straws as it is; you can afford to do whatever you must to crack down on this.

Tonight, you vow to yourself. Tonight, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.

Next: 03

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