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my-love-peterp · 5 years

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Mistaken Chapter Seven

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Word Count: 4268

THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: So this is definitely a chapter on my list of necessary revisions HOWEVER, I’m writing one from some other characters POV just to shed some extra light on the circumstances surrounding what happens in this chapter. I think for sure we’ll get some Tony vignettes and maybe Steve and Darcy as well, just assessing Kaida and Tony and their states of mind (fragile, not great) and get into some motivating factors. Also, I know it’s a long time in coming but the big bad is coming soon. It’s not just Kaida vs herself as the main conflict in this piece.

Warnings: drinking, smut, the like

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

The next day, I was reading the next book on my to be read list when Peter came screeching into the common room. “Cranewood!!” He practically shrieked as he ran, hips first into the back of the couch I was lounging one. He miscalculated his own speed and toppled over the back, faceplanting right into my lap.

“Oh my god, oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t-oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry I just totally invaded your personal space and literally put my face there and oh my god.” He cut his own self off and blushed so deep, the tips of his ears almost flowed red. Peter licked himself back up and adjusted his blue sweatshirt before running his hands through the hair on the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Peter?”

“Y-yeah what’s up Kaida,” he managed to squeak out before coughing and clearing his throat, lowering his voice to compensate. I just stared back at him expectantly, dog-earring my page before slamming the book shut between my thighs. He blinked twice before shifting uncomfortably between feet. I swear, for an adult man, this boy sure acted like a gawky sophomore a lot.

“Oh. Oh yeah!!! We’ve met before. Cranewood School for Girls. Technically you and Spider-Man met but... I’m hurt that you were never even going to mention the first time I saved your life. What’s up with that? And also how did a Hydra ghost end up on Long Island at an elite prep school for upstanding young women and-“ I tuned him out unconsciously.

In truth, I had completely forgotten my run in with Spider-Man when I was 13. My sister and I were much too busy then still readjusting to a normal lifestyle we’d never had and covering our tracks while breaking enough laws to provide for ourselves, day in and day out.

Nadia had laundered enough money that We had more than enough for a down payment on a small apartment in the Long Island area and I was proficient enough in my mimicry and illusion work that we were able to enroll in school with a late start due to our “parents” and their extremely generous donations. It certainly helped that Nadia and I were both whip-smart.

I remembered the day Spidey was talking about. Some jack booted Hydra thug had stormed the grounds and held my class hostage, because his primary target, Anna, who was the daughter of a senator, was my classmate. Luckily, she sat about as far away from me as popular so the Agent was never able to see my face. I didn’t realize the whole upset was over until I had felt a large hand rubbing my back.

Of course, it was Spider-Man that came to my rescue. That day seemed to repeat itself over and over with no end sight. Of course, he was comforting me. His super hearing was the first power I’d ever assimilated by accident. We should test that more in the lab.

As I opened my mouth to finally suggest a battery of tests to Peter, FRIDAY started shouting instructions to be heard over the loud clang of the emergency bell.

Science could wait.

A few months later

The alarm cut through my concentration. It turned out to be just a bigger Code Green false alarm. We’d had two in the last week. I’m not blaming it on any specific individuals but there’s was something to be said in the 200% uptick in near Code Green’s since Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, intern and mechanical engineer extraordinaire returned from Reykjavik. But who was I to complain? After the relocated to the Tower back in May, just three months ago, there were more Strawberry pop tarts in the pantries than I’d ever seen before in my life. And it was so relieving to have another ‘devil may care’ woman around the Tower.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Natasha for all that she is but she’s just a teacher to me. And Wanda read as more of a mom friend in my mind. Darcy is the kind of girl you make up desperate housewives drinking games with. We gravitated toward each other immediately, bonding over baking, needling Tony, and then bemoaning the lack of clubbing appropriate company. She also held no judgment for me about my past, which I couldn’t believe until I saw her and Bucky making googly eyes at each other from across the room, then it all clicked.

Darcy Lewis had become my best friend, big sister and closest confidant and just a week’s time. Now, a few months later, there were still no hydra threats and my probation was set to be lifted this evening. “The perfect time to go clubbing “ Darcy had declared it, before enlisting my strengths to remove, forcibly if necessary, the science squad from their labs. And then to force them out into the world of the living. The only member to straight up refuse was Tony, as was expected. We had been… Cordial to one another but never anything more. I am nearly positive he had Friday keep tabs on my location just so he could avoid me at all times. Inevitably, we would run into each other Coming and going from our quarters or as we made our way to and from our designated lab spaces. I still didn’t quite understand why Tony lived on the same floor as the rest of the Avengers when I knew damn well he had his own penthouse in the tower.

Anyways, my lab was certainly something to behold. The calling it my lab was a bit of a stretch considering I didn’t build anything really, I just tested my powers and checked my biological markers with gadgets that Tony, Bruce, and Dr. Helen Cho had come up with together. We were still waiting for a contact from a group called the guardians who would potential he be able to determine what part alien I am. But it was the world’s most high tech library/relaxation room/artist’s studio. All to make remaining in it all day for the sake of data aggregation tenable.

To say I was bored out of my mind at first was an understatement. But over time I began to have visitors. Darcy was a daily, and surprisingly, so was Pietro. Peter and Bucky also visited, if less frequently. And, oddly enough, Vision was there almost all the time. I asked him about it once and he shrugged (how does a former AI program shrug so effectively) and simply stated that my presence combed his mind. Whatever that meant.

In any case, I wasn’t as bored or lonely anymore. In fact, I could almost swear that something was developing between Pietro and I.

Earlier this week, as I was doing the Times word search and also project in my powers to deflect incoming projectiles, my hair was flipped up and into my face, causing my concentration to skip which led to a tennis ball smacking me right in the face. Above me, Pietro burst out laughing and DUM-E beeped apologetically.

“I don’t think I can forgive you for this,“ I deadpanned, reaching back to jab him in the kidney, which he promptly dodged, all the while still cackling. When his laughing fit finally subsided, he stood back up straight.

“I have an idea, “he announced proudly.

“Stop the presses everyone, and called the Vatican, Speedy here has an idea. It must be a miracle. First one in a decade. The world must be ending,” I replied, looking at him and trying not to smirk. I will give him props because the obscene shocked and hurt that filled his face moments later was almost convincing. He chuckled and moved to sit on the stool next to me. He said nothing, only staring at me.

“Okay Zippy, what was your big idea?”

“You haven’t tested your instinctual and biological responses enough. For example, the fight or flight instinct is recreated too imperfectly in simulated situations to be of any use to you. However, there is another way around that beyond throwing yourself into open combat.” I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue. He leaned forward placing his hands on my side and leaning closer. Hesitant but not opposed, my eyes fluttered chat. Instead of kissing me as I had assumed (hoped!) was his plan, I felt his lips brush against the shell of my ear. I shattered at the sensation, anticipating.

“I have a question “, he whispered. I mumbled my acknowledgment and it took me a few seconds to process what he had said and by that time it was already too late. “ are you ticklish,” he had whisper gently. Now he was mercilessly attacking my side with one, extremely quick fingers, whenever I moved to try to escape, he was there.

I collapsed to the ground, giggling breathlessly before I cut myself and put on my grumpy face. Pietro smiled lazily and shifted so his knees were on either side of my thighs.

“ if you tickle me again, I’ll scream,” I warned him.

“ I bet I could have you screaming my name,” he replied cheesily.

“ I actually hate you right now. I’m considering making you my official arch nemesis. I might make T-shirts. And badges. Definitely badges.”

“Who’s making badges? Didn’t you know nemesis badges are so last season? This is why you should consult the great and powerful Darcy on all things,” came the snarky voice of my best friend from the lab door. I urgently pushed Pietro up and off of me. But as was the theme of the day, I was seconds too late, and Darcy saw us in a position that looked extremely compromising without context.

She raised her eyebrows at me, cheeks twitching as she managed, for once, to hold back whatever retort she thought of once she saw me beneath Pietro. Instead, she readjusted herself and offered me a hand to pick me up off of the slightly dusty floor. I made a mental note to give DUM-E the Swiffer tonight.

After I was back on my feet and thoroughly dusted off, Darcy approached the silver-haired man who was currently leaning against one of my shoulder high bookshelves, jabbing her finger into his sternum. “You hurt my sister and I know an Asgardian who can make your life a living hell. And no, I’m not talking about Thor. Plus, you should be scared of me, I’ve bested him in combat once before and I can certainly take you. So watch yourself Maximoff,” she growled before stomping away, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me along behind her. “We’ve talked about this,” she hissed at me after her suite door slammed behind us. She’d been silent the entire elevator ride down to her floor. I loved Darcy but she was still a little paranoid about FRIDAY always being present and listening in.

“Darcy it wasn’t like that, he... tickled me?”

She snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, I bet he did. Looked like he wanted to do a lot more from where I was standing kid. I’m telling you he’s bad news. What do you see in him anyway?”

I scoffed at her insinuation that somehow, Pietro would be the rotten one between us. “Dee I was literally sleeping with Tony Stark a few months ago while I had intimate knowledge of his fiancés fate. Plus I’m not exactly innocent in literally any sense if the word...” I trailed off but she just glared at me, which was her way of telling me that we weren’t leaving until I answered all of her questions.

I sighed and plopped myself down on her cozy armchair, putting my feet up. “It’s just... he’s easy to be around Darcy. It’s not hard, I don’t have to think about anything twice, there’s no pressure. He’s funny, makes me smile, puts up with my shit. And he doesn’t want more from me than I’m willing to give. We’re as easy as breathing.” I blinked, shocked at the words that had just come out of my mouth. Sure, I would admit to having a crush on the guy, he was hot and snarky. I loved that. Wait, love? I really was losing my mind.

“You know what, forget anything I just said. Let’s go out clubbing like you suggested and find me a man to get under for the night. I have to blow off some steam. I’m delusional and sappy over here.”

Darcy shrugged, noncommittally. “What?!” I demanded, confused as all hell.

“If you really feel that way about him, you should tell him. He may not be pushing you to give more than you’re ready for, but is he going to be prepared to give you everything you want, or is he just here for the safe convenience of it Kaida? You two have been prancing around each other like orphaned fawns, afraid to let yourselves get hurt and calling it sacrifice for the other. Or maybe he just doesn’t care and wants to play dirty because you’re available and convenient. “

I was a little hurt at her words but I could see the truth behind them. It was time Pietro and I had a chat. But not before I went out and had fun with my best friend. I relayed that thought to Darcy who excitedly squealed as we plotted to get the Science Squad out and about with us.

That brings us to now. Several of us piling into the biggest limo I’d ever seen. Bruce, Jane, Nat, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Pietro, Sam, Helen, the super soldiers, and even Peter had elected to join Darcy and I out tonight. It was certainly going to be one for the history books.

Smushed as we were in the back of the vehicle, it was oddly calming. For the first time today I felt as though I had time to just think for myself. I brushed my hand along my inner left forearm and shivered as a chill climbed down my spine. The perfectly raised but horrifically off-kilter writing simply read ‘cereal?’ today. Not much to go on if I were actively looking for my soulmate. Not that I would.

Whatever being it was that decided that two halves, or sometimes thirds or fourths of the same soul, would be imprinted with the first and last words their counterparts said for that day, was a complete and total madman.

It wasn’t a whole lot to go off of. I knew they were older than me because I’d gotten the marking before I could speak and I was advanced for my age. I knew they were New Yorkers just by the way they’d mention certain places and things offhand.

But I wasn’t looking for them. It was fairly obvious to me, at that point, that becoming a fixture in my life was beneficial to absolutely no one. And, based on the blip of feeling or insight I’d get mentally from my soulmate bond, whoever they were had a strong sense of duty. Someone who felt duty bound to a person like me would only end up dead.

And yeah, maybe I was kidding myself and these were really just excuses to protect myself from losing more of the people I cared about but honestly who gave a fuck. There were millions of people in this city. What were the odds we’d even run into each other?

Too high. But there was nothing I could do about that.

And then, after what felt like hours, the car stopped and the group spilled out on to the sidewalk before scrambling to the door of the club, bypassing the line. It was one of the classier, more exclusive establishments in town but not too high brow to preclude any riff-raff.

Cue Darcy Lewis, the bane of all rationality. Darcy’s personality was that of an instigator. I, on the other hand, would never back down when challenged. That meant five tequila shots in five minutes in addition to getting three random numbers. Just for fun. A few shots later and Darcy hauled me on to the dance floor.

We writhed and twisted around each other, alternating between cackling at one another and concentrating on looking appealing and feeling sexy. Her hands roamed my body and rested on my hips as I playfully ground myself back into her.

I could see Natasha posted up in the corner, sipping a sea breeze and keeping her eyes open. Bruce stood a few feet away from her, nervously twitching but slugging back some whiskey. Clint was at the bar pounding back beers with Helen, Jane, Thor, and Sam. All seemed deeply invested in a manic take the Asgardian was telling, arms flailing and making weird shapes as he attempted to act out whichever feat of heroism was on tap for tonight. Wanda stood behind them but looked a little lost. That’s when I noticed that Pietro and Peter were both missing.

Peter was easy enough to find, he was perched next to the top of the stairs, keeping up surveillance of the entire place, the boy having no idea how to relax. I was about to mention Pietro’s absence to the brunette behind me when the wind rushed around me. Suddenly, I wasn’t on the dance floor with Darcy but back at the bar with Pietro.

“What the fuck dude,” I bit out, slapping his arm. “You can’t just speed someone without permission, it doesn’t work like that.” Pietro just shrugged and smiled lopsidedly. It was the kind of smile that got him off for everything. And now was no exception.

“But Kaida, you promised to show me what body shots were some day. I would like to do them now if that is okay. I still have not learned all of your silly American customs.”

I was just gone enough to nod eagerly while my body flushed hot. Body shot demonstrations were requested and so they would be done. We started simple, cleavage shots, I showed him with Darcy and then he practiced on me. His scruff scraped pleasantly against my overheated skin and I trembled. Then Darcy whispered salaciously in Pietro’s ear as I rested up against the bar. In a flash, Pietro‘s hands were squeezing around my hips and I was laying on top of the bar, shirt hiked up.

Tequila was poured and salt sprinkled around my Navel by Darcy freakin' Lewis, who, just hours earlier, had scolded both Pietro and I for our touching antics. But now, here she was, encouraging Pietro to haul me on to the bar. Before I could process that emotional whiplash, Pietro’s face was hovering over my stomach, a wicked smile filling his expression. I squirmed and he responded by dipping his head, using his tongue to swipe up the salt from my body before continuing down and sucking on my navel, slurping up all the tequila. My body was positively on fire. I opened my mouth in a breathless moan and nearly choked when my best friend shoved the rind of lime between my teeth. Her face was quickly replaced by Pietro’s. His eyes burned into mine, his pupils were blown, dark and hungry. He placed his mouth over mine, biting down surprisingly gently so lime juice with a hint of a taste that must be pure Pietro flooded my mouth. Icy fire burned through my veins as I completely forgot the discomfort of the hardwood bar pressing against my back. We were drawing closer and closer to each other as Pietro decisively removed the line from my mouth.

The trance was broken by a cough and a throat clearing. The Spiders Two, Peter and Natasha, were standing behind Pietro, arms crossed. Nat’s face was expressionless, but Peter‘s emotions were somewhat clear. He looked uncomfortable, annoyed and something else I couldn’t quite get a read on. My mouth fell open in a drunken grin, as I waved awkwardly to them, attempting to lift my head and slide off the bar and to my feet. Unfortunately, I was still more than a little boneless from the whole “Pietro‘s lips and tongue on my body“ situation, so, while I did manage to slide off the bar, landing on my feet and my high heels was a whole different story.

Long story short, I simply didn’t. Fortunately, when you’re friends with other enhanced people, their reflexes are typically pretty good. So I felt long, pale arms lock around my middle and stop me from falling. I grinned widely again at the feeling of thick ropey muscles encompassing me.

As I righted myself, the arms remained around me, hints of spicy cologne filling my nostrils when I slouched back into the warm body that stood behind me, closing my eyes and tilting my head back to nuzzle into Pietro’s neck. His breath caught and he let out a weirdly high pitched squeak in surprise.

“Oh shoot,” I stammered reflexively, looking down, “did I step on your foot or something? I know these heels can be a bitch.” It took me a minute to realize why what I was seeing felt so wrong. Instead of the tight black jeans Pietro had been wearing that night, my rescued had on dorky khakis and a blue button up. Peter.

“Fuck, Peter I didn’t know it was you, god damn I like almost assaulted you there. I’m so, so sorry. Jesus Christ, no more tequila for me ever.” I just kept rattling off apologies until he waved me away and Darcy took my arm to lead me out to a cab that was pulling up for us. It was time for me to go home, so Clint was being sent with me to supervise and make sure I made it back to the Tower in one piece and then he’d take one of Tony’s cars to drive back to his farmstead. “I’ve gotta take the kids to school tomorrow. Laura has a doctor’s appointment and I’m trying to be a good dad. You know, the whole nine yards. Or at least as good of a dad as a world-renowned assassin can be.” He ended up using the ride to babble on TL me about everything Nathaniel was getting up to at the moment and the big fiasco when he found out he was named after a girl and the killer meltdown when his parents rebuked him.

Clint deposited me in the elevator and hit my floor for me before he took off to the tunnel leading towards our parking garage. For the first fifth floors, everything was silent save for the occasional squeak of a gear or run of a pulley. Until the elevator stopped on one of the lab floors. I should have realized at that moment that all but one member of the Science Squad had been out that night, but it didn’t until I saw him step into the elevator beside me.

We stiffened simultaneously as Tony and I took the other in. Taking opposite corners, we studiously ignored each other as the elevator began moving. It was uncomfortable and deafeningly quiet, but that was probably more than I deserved. And then, as though whatever cosmic being had a direct line to my thoughts coupled with a sick sense of humor, the elevator froze, the lights went dark and an alarm started blaring, quickly followed by the emergency sprinkler system.

So to recap, I was trapped in a metal box, in the dark, being pelted with cold water, quite similar to what my parents used to do to Nadia and me.

It was at this moment that I had my worst panic attack to date. The sharp sense of panic cut down whatever buzz I had built up from the night before. Pure unadulterated terror flooded my chest as I collapsed to the floor, twitching. My chest heaved with silent sobs, my trauma reminding me that if I made a sound, Nadia would be punished and vice verse. Tears streamed down my cheeks and bile coated my throat. I could hear tony working frantically to desired the elevator panel and talking at me. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t matter. I was too far gone.

Minutes, maybe hours passed. Before I could think clearly, I was entirely disassociated and then sleeping in a wet puddle on the floor of our stalled elevator.

When I woke up the next morning, I was in my own bed, drowning in an oversized hoody that I recognized as one I had stolen from Bucky weeks ago, that if I had to guess, he had originally stolen from Cap. It was royal blue number with a vintage style logo for the Brooklyn Dodgers, whose move was still a sore spot for Steve Rogers.

I sat up groggily, head pounding. As I finger combed my hair and stood to use my restroom, I heard gently snores coming from the plush sectional in my living room. Lo and behold, the Tony Stark was slumped over, not even under a blanket. The events of last night all came flooding back to me and I flushed a bright pink in embarrassment. I’d never shown just how deep that particular weakness ran for me. I turned back and tried to tiptoe out of the room and down to the communal floor for breakfast when Tony’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“I think it’s time we had a talk.”

TAGLIST: @peeterparkr @private-bucky-barnes @laurfangirl424 @bucktitybarnes

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talos1guestservices · 7 years

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Title: I’d Take It All Back Just To Have You

Pairing: Olivia Benson/Alex Cabot

Summary: Thanks to the technological miracle of artiforgs, you can now live virtually forever. Nearly indestructible artificial organs, these wonders of metal and plastic are far more reliable and efficient than the cancer-prone lungs and fallible kidneys you were born with – and Keaton Medical will be delighted to work out an equitable payment plan. But, of course, if you fall delinquent, one of their dedicated professionals will be dispatched to track you down and take their product back.

Until they fall in love with you, of course.

Read on FFN or AO3

The first time Olivia Benson held a heart in her hands, she was 17. The mass of tissue and metal was warm against her fingers, warmer than she expected it to be, and smooth. She ran her fingertips over the valves and ventricles, traced the aorta down to the right auricle, and stopped at the small barcode and logo there – a black circle with a lightning bolt running through it.

The trainee beside her cleared his throat and Olivia passed the heart on to let him examine the clacking valves of the unit, and she knew then that as immoral and downright disgusting this job is there is nothing she would rather do.

On the morning of her 18th birthday, Olivia’s boss went down to the Records Department where she had spent the last year sorting files and sent her up to Accounts Receivable on the third floor of Keaton Medical’s brick and mortar building in the heart of downtown Manhattan. Truth be told, Olivia had never been above the basement of the building, not even when she had first applied to work there. There was a separate entrance in the rear of the building that led directly into Records and Olivia had never felt the need to travel above that.

A security guard directed her through the maze of cubicles and copiers and shredders to a room at the back. The door was didn’t have a handle, at least not one that Olivia could see, but it did have fingerprint and retina scanners.

“Fingerprints first,” the security guard said, gesturing to the pad beside the door, “then your eye. If they called you up here, it’s ready for you.”

Olivia nodded, swallowing hard. She placed her hand on the scanner and the affirmative beep came faster than she expected it to. The she looked into the retina scanner and waited while it affirmed her identity, which only took a few seconds but felt like a lifetime to Olivia.

The inside of the Repossession Unit was underwhelming, to say the least. An island in the center of the room with two id badge and fingerprint scanners on either side and a printer/scanner in the center of it, a shredder built into the island, four metal folding chairs against the wall.

There was no one else in the room. Olivia picked the chair closest to the door and sunk into it; if there was anything she learned from working at Keaton Medical for the past year it was to keep her hands off anything she wasn’t expressly told to touch – luckily she hadn’t been the one to learn that lesson the hard way, though she suspected Bryan Cassidy didn’t feel so lucky after one of the security guards broke his hand.

The door slid open and a man probably eight years older than Olivia walked in. He was tall and muscular and wearing a navy-blue t-shirt with several small bloodstains on it. There was blood on his chin and he was grinning.

“Sorry I’m late,” the man said, scanning his id card and fingerprints. “My last appointment ran late.” He set a pink sheet of paper in the scanner and leaned back against the island while the scanner did its thing. “Are you Olivia Benson?” – Olivia nodded – “I’m Elliot Stabler. Cragen said you’re my new partner.”

“So I’m being promoted then?” Olivia asked. “I was just told to wait here.”

Elliot shrugged – “Looks like it” – and turned around to see what pink slip the printer gave him. He read the information on the sheet and then handed it over to Olivia. “We gotta stop off at Supply on our way out, get you suited up. Keep up or get out now.”

Olivia followed Elliot out of the room, easily matching his long stride. She was finally able to take a minute to read the pink slip in her hand once they were in the elevator. She let out a low whistle. “Says this guy lives around here,” she said. “Are they sure this is right?”

“Don’t question the intel,” Elliot said. “Accounts Receivable knows what they’re doing.”

“It’s a pricey area is all,” Olivia said. “I'm just making sure we didn’t miss a payment in the mail.”

“Look,” Elliot sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s your first day in Repo, I get it, but they do their jobs and we do our jobs and they pay us nicely to keep our questions to ourselves. I got five kids, Benson, I need this job, so just don’t question it. If they say he didn’t pay, then he didn’t pay.”

The Supply Depository was up on the sixth floor of the Keaton Medical building. The elevator door slid open to reveal two reception desks staffed by two armed guards each and rows upon rows of metal shelving stacked with weapons and tools and uniforms. Olivia handed her id card over to one of the guards and he led her down through the rows of supplies. She was assigned a black duffel bag, three black t-shirts, three pairs of black pants, a pair of boots, a jacket, a Taser, a set of scalpels, a bone saw, a rib spreader, and an assortment of other tools and gear.

Once they were finished and Olivia was changed into her new uniform, she followed Elliot down to his car and they headed on over to Number One Central Park South Unit 2011 – the Penthouse.

The Plaza Hotel, twenty stories tall, and their client, Henry Richard Smith, lived on the top floor.

“The first step to any repo job,” Elliot said, “is to map out the area. You’ve got to know where the client is, and you’ve got to know what else is nearby. How big is the house/office/hut in which he’s staying? Any other people inside? Are they on the phone? Are they armed? Are they on the phone with someone who is armed? That sort of thing.” He pulled his tablet out of his duffel bag and opened up a set of plans. He handed the tablet to Olivia. “These are the building plans: ducts, units, etcetera. This last page is the plan for Smith’s unit. Study these, figure out a way to take our client.”

And so Olivia did.

For three days they sat in front of the Plaza, waiting and watching, memorizing their client’s comings and goings.

And then Olivia said, “We just walk right in the front door.”

Elliot grinned. “We walk right in the front door.”

So that’s what they did.

The doorman didn’t move to stop Olivia and Elliot when they strolled into the building in their Keaton Medical uniforms at noon on the fourth day of their stakeout. He didn’t move to stop them when they boarded the elevator bound for the 20th floor. And he definitely didn’t move to stop them when they bypassed Henry Richard Smith’s security and walked right in his front door.

Not that he would be expected to – most buildings had a policy of allowing the bio-repo men to do their jobs. It was just easier on everyone.

The door opened into a small foyer with a closet and door to a powder room to the left and a stairwell to the right, and the foyer opened into the living room. High end furniture, abstract art, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over Central Park. Olivia let out a low whistle.

Elliot dropped his bag on the middle cushion of the couch and settled down beside it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Might as well get comfortable, Benson,” he said. “We’re still a couple hours out.”

Olivia nodded absently, barely listening to what he was saying. She wandered around the living room looking over the pictures on the walls. The photographs told the story – they usually do. She could check out everything she needed to know on the sheet – date of birth, marital status, kids, etc. – but the pictures gave the most complete profile. What a person chooses to frame says a lot about them.

There was Smith – middle-age, hair receding, great teeth – next to a woman half his age, both in scuba gear down in Fiji. Another of the two of them on a ski slope somewhere in the Alps. Mixed throughout, photos of Smith and a little girl, aging randomly. In one picture, she’s in pigtails and they’re at the circus; in another she’s dealing with her first bout of acne and the look in her eyes says hurry up and take the picture already. These, combined with the obvious bachelor pad, made it clear: A divorcé with disposable income, choosing to spend his newfound single lifestyle traveling the world and making a general fool of himself with women way too young for him.

After she looked at all the pictures in the living room, Olivia decided to give herself a tour of the rest of the apartment. Off the living room was a kitchen, which was barely large enough to stand in comfortably, but had all brand new, high-tech, unused appliances. The fridge was mostly empty, save for some Chinese take-out and a few bottles of water, and the cabinets had mostly cans of soup and boxes of cereal. Beside the kitchen was the washer/dryer closet, and across from that was a bedroom with an attached bathroom. From there, Olivia went upstairs where there was a bathroom in the hall, another bedroom with an attached bathroom, and the master bedroom with yet another attached bathroom.

How could one person need so many bathrooms?

“Benson,” Elliot yelled up the stairs, “it’s time.”

Olivia hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. She stood beside the door where Elliot directed her to so she would be concealed when it opened but blocking it after it closed, while he took his place just beside the living room entrance. Olivia switched the lights off just as the sound of inebriated laughter floated through the door.

They came in half undressed. His shirt unbuttoned, her skirt hiked to the waist. Hands roaming everywhere. They stumbled down the hall and into the living room, landing on the couch.

Just before they started their business, Olivia flicked on the lights and Elliot stepped out into the middle of the room. “Hello, Henry,” Elliot said, and the girl jumped so badly she fell on the floor. Henry scrambled to cover himself with any clothing he could get his hands on, leaving his companion to fend for herself.

“Now that’s not very chivalrous, Henry,” Olivia said, picking up some of the clothes and handing them to the girl. She smiled gratefully and moved to cover herself.

Elliot cocked his head toward the door. “You’re free to go, miss,” he said. “You won’t want to see this.” The girl scrambled to her feet and hurried, half-dressed, out of the apartment. Smart girl. “Mr. Smith, we’re from the Credit Union.”

“Fuck. Holy fuck–” Smith stammered, getting to his feet. He grabbed up his pants and rummaged through his pockets, presumably looking for his wallet. “Wait, I can pay.”

“Sorry,” Elliot said. “That’s not our department.” He raised his Taser and took steady aim. “I’m legally bound to ask you if you’d like an ambulance on standby, though you will be unable to secure another artiforg from Keaton Medical in replacement.”

“Wait,” he said again, “don’t–”

That was as far as he got before Elliot’s Taser darts slammed into his chest and released their electricity. He went down twitching, and Elliot stayed clear until he was down for the count.

Elliot nodded and set his Taser down on the coffee table. “Gimme a hand with this?” he said, gesturing toward the couch. He grabbed one edge and Olivia grabbed the other and they moved it back several feet from where Smith was lying motionless on the floor.

It didn’t take long for Elliot to pull out the extractors and scalpels he needed for the job, and he had barely made the first incision when Olivia felt the roiling in her stomach. She swallowed hard and tried to will the feeling away.

“The first one is the worst,” Elliot said, pushing his hand into the viscera of Smith’s abdomen.

The sound was unlike anything Olivia has ever heard before – wet and unnatural – and she jumped to her feet and rushed into the bathroom. She heaved into the toilet for just a minute before standing and staring at herself in the mirror. She needed to get herself together. She signed up for this job. This was her choice. She cupped her hands under the running water and rinsed out her mouth and then splashed some cold water on her face. When she was finished, she rejoined Elliot in the living room.

Knelt down beside Elliot, Olivia watched as he carefully extracted Henry Richard Smith’s artificial liver and then dropped it into her gloved hands. “We’re cutting it close,” he said, placing a surgical covering over Smith’s abdomen. He stood and peeled the gloves off his hands. “The goal is to get it done before the effects of the Taser wear off. Blood is hell on a good shirt. Clean that up and let’s get out of here. I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

Olivia dropped the Keaton LS-400 liver they came for into the stainless-steel sink in the kitchen. The high-pressure faucet nozzle did just the trick washing off the blood and attached tissue, and before long the metallic organ was gleaming in the glow from the overhead lights.

When Olivia entered the living room, Elliot was filling out a yellow receipt. He signed it in triplicate and left a copy on Smith’s body. If his next of kin has any issues with the repo or the aftermath, there were numbers they could call. No one ever did, but they were available.

Olivia was silent on their ride back to the Keaton Medical building and all through the artiforg return process and while Elliot closed up their job in the Repo office.

“You get used to it,” Elliot said, picking up his gear to head home for the day. “The jobs start getting easier after the first one. Soon enough you’ll be able to do it without a problem.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Olivia asked.

Elliot sighed. “Then you’re one of the lucky ones.”

Much to her dismay, Olivia learned quickly that Elliot was right – it did become easier to get the job done. It wasn’t that she developed a disregard for human life, she just grew a thicker skin and learned to separate her feelings from her work. There were still cases that got to her, of course, like the first time they had to take a set of lungs from a child and the woman who asked to stay awake as they took her heart and Olivia held her hand as she died, but she never let herself break, never let herself show any kind of emotion.

Before she knew it, her probationary year was over, and she was able to pick up her own cases. After that, time started to blur together. She regularly pulled doubles, occasionally pulled triples. She typically cleared three cases a night, some nights she cleared up to five. She was on top of the world.

And then it was all ripped away.

#cabenson #svu #svu fic #PLEASE APPRECIATE THE TITLE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT

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kingsofchaos · 8 years

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What about team nice dynamite playing surgeon simulator on a real person

Ohjeez that gets awfully bloody awfully quickly. It’s definitely oneof their nastier games, whichconsidering who they are and what they’ve done is really sayingsomething.Theidea is probably born in Caleb’s office. Michael’s grumbling his waythrough stitches, reluctantly laughing as Gavin makes a nuisance ofhimself while he waits, opening draws, playing with tools, theorisingabout what everything does, miming out increasingly disturbinglooking operations until Caleb finally banishes him back to thewaiting chair under the threat of a first-hand demonstration.Still,the idea is planted and not even a week goes by before Michael andGavin decide to rob a hospital, pick up a few tools of their own, andplay doctor. They get everything from scrubs and gloves to specialityinstruments and various medications, alongside a few of their ownconcoctions and no small number of personal knives. Their ‘surgery’is an abandoned warehouse; not even one of Geoff’s, just somewhereprivate where no one will notice them making a mess. And boy do theymake a mess.Theirfirst involuntary patientis a very bad man indeed, cruel and nasty and just generally lackingin heart. So they take his out. Dig around for a bit, surprised bythe effort it takes to get through the ribcage, wondering at thesheer amount of blood, the various strange bits and pieces theyrummage through, organs they examine then toss to the floor tocontinue their quest. Astonishingly the patient does not survive, butthey manage to extract the heart before it stops beating so at theend of the day they call it a successful endeavour.Forthe next sorry contestant, who had the misfortune of witnessingsomething he shouldn’t have and running his mouth in the wrongcompany, there is a very delicate eye surgery, followed by a far lessdelicate experimentation to determine which vaguely eye-shapedobjects found laying around the penthouse would make the best replacements.There’sa dirty cop working for the wrong gang whose night ends with hisbrain on the floor, a noisy thorn in Geoff’s side who involuntarilydonates his kidneys to science, a brief foray into dentistry leaves acrook without their teeth, an arms-dealer who got a bit too touchyloses an arm, and in a move that’s more petty than anything else, awanna-be conman who thought he could manipulate Gavin of all peoplegets to accidentally teach them just how quickly a person can bleed out when they’remissing their tongue. With all the compassion ofserial-killers, the selfish amusement of egocentric children and thein-built bravado born from the unwavering support of a best friendthe only end in sight for this awful new game is the inevitablemoment Team Nice Dynamite gets bored and moves on to something else.Therest of the FAHC doesn’t know what they’re up to in their spare timebut have seen enough shared looks and whispered plans to know they’redoing something, have witnessed more than enough of that particularbrand of nasty delight to know it’s something devastating. Still,when casual inquiry reveals nothing more than a pair of matchinggrins, somewhat secretive and entirely wicked, it’s generally agreed that it’s best tojust sit back and wait for the mayhem to roll in.Whichis all well and good for a while, but eventually Jeremy and Ryan arebored enough, curious enough, nosey enough to give up onpatience and track them down. It’s not particularly difficult,they’re not really hiding, but what has been seen cannot be unseenand Jeremy, for one, desperately wishes he’d left Ryan to investigateon his own. Ryan stands in silence, reaction hidden behind his maskthough Jeremy fancies that there’s something upsettingly amused inthe way he surveys what is undoubtably a makeshift surgery, eyessharply interested as they flick around the room, to the blood on thefloor, the walls, to the body on the table, the wailing heart-monitorand an IV bag filled with something oddly glittery.Jeremyis feeling slightly less impartial. Maybe it’s just the surprise ofit all; he was expecting another firework bomb, maybe a kidnapped copor the makings of an elaborate prank, anything other than the cold,still, Dexter-like vibe of this particular undertaking. It’s almosttoo much, too disturbing, even with everything the FAHC have done,everything he himself has done. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, maybe it’sno worse, not really, but in the shock of landing in what looks likea horror movie torture room Jeremy can’t help but think that this issomething else, that this is terrible. ThenGavin tears through, squawking up a storm and holding two eyeballs upover his head like they’re watching Michael, who’s roaring withlaughter and whirling something pink and fleshy around like a lassoas he gives chase, and just like that the moment is thoroughlybroken. Ryan snorts, turning on his heel and heading out the way hecame but Jeremy can’t quite make himself leave, can’t even staysilent, not when Michael slides through something unnamable, wipingout into a tray of instruments and going down under a bombardment ofmisplaces organs like the worlds goriest slapstick routine.Thesound has Gavin finally catching sight of Jeremy, eyes widening inshock before he grins, wild and disastrous as he crows out agreeting, calling for the illustrious Doctor Dooley to come in andsave him from the heavy-handed fumblings of Doctor Jones, andhonestly at that point there’s really little else Jeremy can do butstart looking around the room for a spare pair of gloves.

#FAHC #so this one has some pretty gross imagery #sorry friends #this was a super fun idea though anon #put some pretty disturbing images in my mind #but fun #they would absolutely eventually steal an ambulance #Jeremy drives them all over they city while they play in the back #make such a nuisance of themselves Geoff finally bans the whole ordeal #not sure why Jeremy and Ryan appeared in this #though Ryan is so unfazed #like huh cool this is as much as i needed to know #later kids #Anonymous #Ask #Loaded Guns and Sharp Teeth #I'd Burn Empires For You

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