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rogueshadeaux · 8 months

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Chapter Thirty-One — Legacy

It didn’t go into the little thing Zeke made to listen to these, not at first at least — it was shoved into some port on his computer as he typed away, looking for something. Analyzing it, I came to realize. When the only thing that popped up on it was ‘AUDIO FILE’ with a jumble of letters and numbers after the fact, he pulled it out of the computer and put it into his invention at a speed that should have broken both.

5k words | 16-20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child death, death, 'hallucinations' in a way, mass death, violence (not visually described).

⚠ AUTHOR'S NOTE: 5k words, and less than half came from my mind. There's someone else who deserves the accolades for this chapter, and it's because she spent 4 hours on mic with me as we wrote this together months ago. Her friendship was the first gift of many I received from being in this fandom, so naturally she had to be the first to feature in Erosion. Thanks @codenamehazard for being the best supporter, helping me lay down the groundwork for Erosion and [you know ;)], and giving me a chance to siphon show your talents in my own fic. Love ya girl!!!

Everyone froze. Even the cicadas outside stopped screaming after Zeke said that. Dr. Sims didn’t look surprised at all — he just moved to look down at the floor. Brent, wide eyed, looked across the room over at me, frozen mid-step.

And Dad? He was glaring. “Yeah, we’re done here.” he said flatly, moving off of the wall to stand. “Brent, Jean — go upstairs and start packing your things—”

“Delsin—” Dr. Sims began before Dad cut him off.

“No, Eugene,” he snapped. “You can’t expect me to believe that shit, c’mon.”

“It’s true—” Zeke began to defend.

“Bullshit!”

Zeke stood so fast that the gaming chair he was sitting in launched back, hitting the desk and rattling the monitors on it. He was gone, storming off into the hallway by the stairwell, towards the room he told us was his and throwing open the door he said we could knock on if we ever needed him.

“I can’t believe you brought me here for information like that,” Dad scoffed, looking at Dr. Sims. “Time travel? Really?”

“Is it that far-fetched when we’re talking about the Beast?” Dr. Sims asked, keeping his composure under Dad’s scrutiny with ease.

“You’re trying to get me to believe time travel exists, Eugene. Do you not hear yourself?” Dad demanded. “I’m trying to help my kid, not play some Back to the Future fantasy—”

“I know it’s a lot to take in—”

“A lot?” Dad demanded, stepping closer to Dr. Sims. “A lot? You’re telling me time travel exists and Kessler didn’t manage to stop the Beast? He still managed to fuck it up?”

Dr. Sims sighed. “If you just let us explain it—”

“No.” Dad cut him off, holding up a hand. He looked furious. “I’m not gonna listen to you tell me fucking lies like this. You didn’t lose anything to the Beast or the plague — I did. I’m not gonna be mocked—”

A loud and harsh bang resounded in the middle of Dad’s argument, making me yelp with a jerk and scaring Brent enough to turn the tips of his hair silver. Zeke stood at the edge of the room, a small metal chest at his feet. For the first time since we got here, he looked angry at Dad, like he was ready for a fight.

Zeke bent down and unlatched the chest, throwing the lid open so hard it bounced off of the frame once. He began digging away in the chest, pulling out things one by one; a yellow and black jacket, a weird backpack with one strap. They all came out and were set down in one fluid, anger-fueled movement as Zeke looked for something. “The last thing Kessler did before he died was give Cole a picture,” Zeke began to explain as he pulled an old leather wallet out of the chest. “You heard the dead drop about Trish — tell me something.”

He stomped up right to Dad, and held out the picture for him to take. “How do I have a photo of them on their wedding day if he never got to propose to her?”

Dad kept his scowl but something in his vision changed as he reached out to take the photograph Zeke held out. Brent moved immediately to look at it from over Dad’s shoulder and it only took a moment till my resolve broke and I stood, moving to Dad’s other side.

It was an old photograph, one of those print out ones you’d get at like, a Walmart photo center. The main focus of the photograph was the bride, who looked straight at the camera with a dazzling smile, veil caught in the light breeze of a spring wind. Cole was there, the actual Cole, features way softer than the ones on his statue as he pressed his forehead to his wife’s temple, looking at her through his lashes. Even Zeke was there in sunglasses and with a smile, face thinner and less wrinkled.

“Cole never even got to propose to Trish,” Zeke insisted. “But Kessler? He had two children with her, and they all died to the Beast.”

Dad took a moment to look up from the picture, eyes meeting Zeke’s. “You’re asking me to trust that Kessler, the man that killed this woman, was in love with her? That he killed his own wife?”

“I didn’t say it made sense, I just said it was true,” Zeke retorted, crossing his arms. “Kessler wanted to make sure Cole would make all the hard choices. He ran when the Beast first showed up in his time. He took away Cole’s ability to be swayed.”

Dad looked back down at the photo. And, slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t believe you,” he said simply, no emotion in his voice.

“Delsin—“ Dr. Sims chimed from the side.

“No, Eugene.” Dad snapped. “There’s no proof besides this picture. How am I supposed to trust this when the man that could confirm it is dead?” Dad breathed deeply like he was trying to keep from spewing a slew of curse words. “I’m here just for the First Sons’ base location. That’s it. I don’t need to hear about this stupid little fairytale — just where this base is. If it wasn’t for her?” He said, jabbing a thumb my way. “I would have already left.”

Dad’s expression looked like it wasn’t up for any sort of debate or conversation, which no one dared to attempt. Zeke sort of scoffed and snatched the old dog-eared photograph from Dad before turning back to the chest full of Cole’s things, yanking up the partially folded jacket off of the ground to throw back in with the rest.

And in the awkward silence of it all, there was the softest little clatter as a small chip came flying away from the jacket and skittered across the floor to my feet.

I stepped back once, bending down to pick up the chip. There was miniscule writing on it in a silvery sort of ink and a chicken scratch that looked like it was due more to shaky hands than anything else: for Zeke.

“Uh, here,” I said, holding it out for him to take.

He just stayed staring at my outstretched hand like it was poisonous, mouth opening and closing like a fish with nothing coming out of it. Not until he seemed to choke on air in an effort to speak. “That shouldn’t be there,” he muttered.

“What?”

That chip was out of my hand in an instant and Zeke was flying across the room, nearly tripping over his gaming chair in an effort to get into it. “How did I never fucking look in the pockets?” he chastised the air, growling.

Dad glanced over at me before looking at the back of Zeke’s head. “I uh…what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Zeke responded. “I don’t know,”

The chip reader crackled as it struggled to read the piece, making a couple clicking noises like it was stuttering before it came to life. There was a bit of shuffling on the line, and a grunt as someone moved with the noise before humming. “Alright.” the voice mumbled to itself. It had a natural rasp that was strained, like he was sick or had a stuffy nose. There was an airiness that gave to a wheeze, like he had spent the last day and a half either crying or smoking a carton of cigarettes. He just seemed so tired. He cleared his throat harshly once, and then started talking. “Audio log, date—” he started before cutting off. There was a pause before he mumbled, “What was today?” to himself, counting off in mutterings before scoffing and saying, “Fuck it.”

Zeke’s hand shot over his mouth, and he paled. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

Professionalism abandoned, the man sighed, taking a moment to gather himself. “Zeke, if you’re listening to this, I’m…I’m already dead. There’s no other way to say it — I’m dead.” Even now, so many years in the future and a good seven feet away, I could hear him swallow thickly, like he wasn’t even really ready to digest the fact himself. “There’s been a lot I’ve wanted to say to you. A lot I’ve been…holding back, but I just never could say, ‘cause how would I? I know we’ve seen insane but the shit that’s been going on with me? It’s just — would you even believe me?”

“I would’ve, Cole” Zeke muttered in the silence.

Cole. Cole MacGrath. My eyes widened so large they felt like they were gonna pop out of my head as I looked at Dad, who’s brow was furrowed as he looked at the little speaker.

“You remember the dreams I talked about, back in Empire?” Cole asked, like Zeke could respond to him then or now. “They never stopped. If anything…they got worse. I started to see—” his voice cracked and he stopped short before continuing, “I started to see…in my dreams, what life could have been. I saw Trish. I saw my daughters.” He huffed, sniffing hard, like he was trying to decide whether to cry or celebrate. “Twins, can you believe it? Beautiful girls. I saw it all — how we struggled to even have them and the day they were born. Amaris and Elena…my sun and moon. We fought to conceive and then they were premature and there was…for a while, we thought we were going to lose them. I’d let them hold my finger sometimes and just whisper to them to keep fighting because I didn’t want them to be alone. I could feel their weight when I was allowed to hold them for the first time. They were so small. Weighed practically nothing. But holding them, something Trish and I got to make? It felt like I was holding the world. I would’ve done anything for them. Protect them, take care of them, love them — I would’ve been the father I never got. I got to see them grow up, too. Amaris was a wild free-spirit that we could barely contain, and Elena…she was so gentle. I loved them both so much, Zeke, and I’ll never even get to have them now. I would’ve done anything for them…”

Dad shifted on my left and I looked at him in time to see him bring a hand to his chin to rub it, eyes wet. Brent was staring at some fixed spot in the wall across from him, face steeled in all ways but actually.

Cole exhaled shakily, hard enough for the mic on the recorder to cackle with static. “But there was more, so much more. I saw the chaos, the destruction, everything Kessler showed me and then some. Saw a world turned upside down, an apocalyptic wasteland where everyone and everything was insane. I saw complete and utter annihilation. I saw a world that no matter what I did, it didn’t matter. That one scares me the most — to do everything right and it didn’t fucking matter.” he growled that last word.

“And the part that scares me the most is that these do not feel like dreams. These do not feel like nightmares. They feel too real.” He insisted. “They feel like — god, as insane as it sounds, they feel like visions.”

That dam that was holding back his emotion cracked, and he gasped. “I’m becoming like Kessler,” he realized in a haunted whisper. “I’m becoming like Kessler, I’m…”

Zeke’s head fell into his hands as Cole’s voice broke and he began to gasp for air, choking back sobs. My cast was pressed so hard to my mouth that I could practically feel its design imprinting on my skin as I tried to keep quiet. He sounded so broken, so scared. This Kessler guy was enough to scare the man that took on the Beast. He was on the brink of hysterics.

He paused for a moment to inhale shakily. “Still, I can’t get that thought outta my head, that one nightmare — that one vision. That I could do everything right and it doesn’t fucking matter. That nobody will see me except for the Demon of Empire City. The power–fueled terrorist that started the plague and destroyed Empire City.”

Brent shook his head and cracked, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Dad and I. Dad’s head was hung low, hands on his hips and his face obscured by his hair. I couldn’t even move from where I was. There wasn’t enough power in the world that could get me to summon my feet to step, not when my legs felt like lead.

“That Conduits could never be seen as anything other than monsters and tools. That I could give everything to save everyone, do everything right, be the hero that everyone wants, that that man groomed me to be…and it doesn’t fucking matter.” Cole continued. “That all of this, all of this pain, all of this suffering, all of this loss — your betrayal, Trish’s death, the loss of what could have been — meant fuckall!

“And none of this matters. None of it matters.” Cole blubbered. “Don’t matter what I do, I fail. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try…I fail. I fail you, I fail Trish, I fail my daughters. No matter what I do, I’m a failure…just like Kessler. God…no matter what I do, I fail. I’ve become just like Kessler. A failure.” Cole’s voice got louder the further he rambled until it cracked with his held back screams — and a zap. “A fucking failure!” He bellowed, voice cracking. There’s a crash, and more follow, the static on the recorder more electrical than noise as Cole rampaged.

His voice would wail over the sound of destruction, nonsensical rambling that would occasionally be something we could hear. “"They were twins, twins! My little girls, my sun and moon. I failed them! I failed them all!" He screamed at some point, Zeke’s shoulders beginning to shake with silent sobs as he said that. “I‘m going to fucking become him! A failure!” He screams again. “"I killed them! I killed them! My wife, my daughters! They're dead, I killed them!” There was another hard crash, like a pile of something metal collapsed under his rage. “The blood on his hands stain mine! They’re dead because of me! They’re dead because I was a fucking coward the first time and a murderer the second! We’re the same fucking person! They’re dead because of me!”

There was more crashing, more loud screaming that devolved into something incoherent. I wasn’t even sure Cole was trying to talk anymore — he was just angry. But I have never, never heard wailing like that from someone before, a desperate and painstricken sound that vibrated my core. It was enough to actually make my heart hurt, to make me choke back my own sobs. My little whimper as I held back my tears caught Brent’s attention as he passed in front of me. Brent himself has splotches of red across his face from holding back his own sobs, and both of our eyes were glistening when they met. He moved to stand beside me instead of pace and threw an arm over my shoulder, letting me tuck into his side and use his chest to hide the noise of my crying.

And then everything on the recording stopped. Everything except for Cole’s quiet crying. There’s shuffling as the recorder is readjusted and he sniffs hard, coughing to clear his throat. “I want to be wrong.” He murmurs, exhausted. “I hope to god I’m wrong. I…I don’t want you to live in a world like that, Zeke.” Zeke himself began sobbing quietly. “I…I just, I’ve been holding all this back because I didn’t wanna worry you. You’ve got enough problems, you’re dying yourself. You’re suffering from the Plague, I didn’t need you to worry about me. It was my burden to bear. And don’t lie. You would’ve.” He huffs a chuckle, as if he could already hear how Zeke was muttering that he should have told him anyways.

“I want you to be happy.” Cole says simply. “And I’ll still try to do everything right, in the hopes that I’m wrong. I want to be wrong so fucking bad. So that you can live in a world where Conduits aren’t seen as things to be used or monsters to be scared of. So that Conduits can be seen as you see me — just another person. Someone…with fears and hopes and lives and families. Just another person.

“I’m so fucking scared. I don't wanna die.” Cole MacGrath, the Cole MacGrath, said with this haunted tone like the severity of the situation was only just beginning to settle in his chest. “It seems like fate’s got it out for us, huh? Maybe it doesn’t even matter then, if I even do the right thing. That blast core from the Vermaak makes seven, and I’m ready for the RFI. We’ve just gotta charge it some more…but I don’t even know if this whole thing will work — it’s a huge gamble. What if the RFI doesn’t wipe out the Plague? What if it just kills Conduits, kills the Beast, and leaves you all to die slowly? God...so many people are going to die either way, but what if we're wrong? What if everyone dies?”

Cole paused, breathing shakily. “So much goddamn blood on my hands…everyone’s. It doesn’t matter if I did it as Cole, or as Kessler — this is all my fault. Everything lies in this gamble, Zeke. This is more than just coming out short on a slot machine — this could be the end of it all. We could be wrong. The RFI could fail, and all that happens is I kill all of humanity.”

“But…” Cole drew off, another popping sound interfering with the mic. ”I’m willing to take that risk, just for that slight chance that I’m wrong.” His voice is more resolved, even if it still sounded weak. “That this works, and it heals you and gets rid of the Beast. So that you can live and be happy…and so you can live in a world where things are a little more peaceful. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I’ve learned this lesson the hard way — you can’t always have what you want. Isn’t that right? But I’ve literally lost everything…except for you, Zeke. You’re all I have left. The only family Kessler allowed me to keep. I don’t have Trish. I’ll never get to know my baby girls. So I’ll do it for you.”

Cole’s voice cracked again on you, and it was almost like I could envision him running his hands over his face to calm himself down. “You’re off with Laroche right now doing God knows what to charge the RFI. I don’t know where Nix is, and Kuo…I don’t even want to think about her. We never got to talk after I tested the RFI. I know as soon as that thing’s charged, if I don’t set it off then…then I never will. So…I guess this is goodbye.” he said so casually, so resigned. Like in that small amount of time, he accepted that this was it. “Sorry it can’t be in person, but there’s not enough time for formalities. We were never the type to give a shit about them anyways.” Cole gasped quietly, trying to hold back another wave of emotion. “I love you brother,” he said, voice quivering. “And I’m…I’m sure gonna miss you,”

Cole almost immediately began quietly sobbing by the end of his farewell, the sound echoing through the silent stilt house as the recording stopped. Zeke’s whole body shook as he was wracked with quiet sobs, Brent’s arm was heavy around me and I just knew it was because we were feeling the weight of all of this on both of our shoulders.

Cole was…scared, by the end. Barely able to deal with the fact that he needed to die, and that he was taking out so many people with him. That recording was the final plea of a man wanting nothing more than to be wrong, and I wasn’t even sure if he got what he wanted. I couldn’t reliably decide, at least, by the time I calmed myself down.

Dad breathed deeply and raised his head, arms crossed over his chest. He had that stoic look he reserved for interrogations, but it didn’t hide how red his eyes were. “You weren’t lying.” He said simply, looking at Zeke’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Zeke’s head slowly raised. “Kessler was a desperate sonofabitch, who was willing to do anything to stop the Beast. And that included hurting himself.”

“We don’t know how he did it.” Dr. Sims said from the side. He himself had a rogue tear on his cheek that he hastily swiped away. “We just know it’s true.”

Dad rubbed the growing scruff on his face and sighed. “We can ask more questions later.” he decided, looking at Zeke. The man was still hunched into himself, refusing to look at us; Dad probably thought now was a terrible time to ask some clarifying questions. “But I still think our best option is to find the First Sons’ old base.”

Dr. Sims pushed off of the wall and walked over to where Zeke was, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. “I can go through the rest of the dead drops,” he offered Zeke quietly. “Why don’t you go take a moment?”

Zeke nodded, struggling to find the will to stand. He pulled the chip out of the reader and held it like it was gold, gently putting it back into the pocket of that yellow and black jacket before closing the chest and lifting it, refusing to look at anyone. His echoing footsteps resounded the first floor until his bedroom door closed, leaving us all in the remnants of what was his past.

“Holy shit, Eugene,” Dad breathed, looking over at his friend, eyes wide. “Time travel. Time travel.”

“I know,” Dr. Sims breathed. “I still wonder how he did it. It keeps me up at night.”

“So this Kessler asshole has been a part of it from the beginning and the end.” Dad shook his head. “Jesus…”

Brent’s arm withdrew from my shoulder and he let me move away to sit on the couch, shaking his head slowly. “It still doesn’t make sense,” he mutters. “Why kill his wife instead of keeping her safe? Why keep Zeke alive?”

I drew my knees into my chest the moment I sat down, trying to breathe deeply. I wasn’t even sure how to process this. Time travel! There’s ways to time travel, and Kessler learned to do it to try and stop the Beast.

That thought made me stop. “Dad?” I asked, lifting my head from my knees.

Dad paused his chatting with Dr. Sims to look over. “What’s up, Jeanie?”

“Kessler came back to stop the Beast, right?” I began, “And he was from the future so he…he probably knew who it was. But…John worked with Kessler. John even said in one of the dead drops he was promoted to work directly with him. Why not stop him when he had the chance? Before he became the Beast?”

“He said that?” Dr. Sims asked as Dad’s mouth froze mid response, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

Brent held up a hand as if to correct me. “He said something about Kessler knowing he had an important destiny, remember?” He asked, looking between Dad and I. “If he knew John was the Beast and wanted to stop him, why not just kill him before all of that happened?”

Something wasn’t adding up and we were all beginning to realize it, especially as Dad and Dr. Sims glanced at each other uncomfortably. “That…doesn’t matter,” Dad finally decided. “Not anymore. They’re all dead, there’s no one to ask. All we need to worry about right now is finding this place the ice soldiers were made to see if there’s any sort of connection to Archangel.”

Dad walked over to Dr. Sims’ side as he sat in the gaming chair, leaving Brent and I to share a look, the type that said no matter what was going on, we didn’t believe it. Kessler came back in time in search of a way to stop the Beast, and all he did was ruin lives — including his own. He murdered who was supposed to be his wife, gave his own past self trauma, and yet didn’t even try to stop the man beside him that was the actual Beast?

It didn’t make sense, and I wasn’t sure if there was any explanation that would make it make sense.

Dad and Dr. Sims went through the remaining dead drop chips that would load, painting the rest of the confusing picture on what happened here, at least; Bertrand being angry about whatever sort of Conduit he was, believing God wanted him to be more. There was another Conduit that roamed the swamps and attacked Bertrand’s men — a service more than an issue, in my opinion — and Dr. Wolfe and Kuo decided along with John that Cole was who they needed to fight the Beast.

A suggestion made by John White himself, which left us with even more questions than answers.

But finally, finally, the answer came to us in a talk between Wolfe and Bertrand, “File A435,” he clarified in his accent.

“That new facility you folks are building below the Carriage House, it’s….overwhelming,” he purred, like the sight of it did something to him sexually. I nearly gagged at his voice. “Hats off to you, Doctor.”

Wolfe had the nerve to sound proud. “Our technology is a hundred years ahead of the rest of the world.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Bertrand said. I swear, his accent sounded sloppier coming out of his mouth because of how hard it was watering. “When I joined the First Sons, they told me that they had technology a hundred years ahead. Now? That sounds conservative! When I saw that place I thought I’d been abducted by a UFO!”

Brent snorted slightly on the side and nearly managed to make me laugh; the man sounded ridiculous.

“Sorry for the confusion,” Wolfe murmured, that making me giggle a bit. Dad shot a look at both of us and sharply hushed us, making me bite down on my lips to try and stifle the sound.

“They were just caves before,” Bertrand reminisced. “I knew them well. Played in them as a child. They were a part of the underground railroad, smuggling escaped slaves outta town. Then it was prohibition and whiskey instead of slaves. Now! Now, we’re smuggling in the future.”

The dead drop beeped twice, signaling its end. “Carriage House,” Dad said, looking at Dr. Sims. “That’s where we need to go. Where is that?”

Dr. Sims moved to use Zeke’s computer, typing away. “I’m not…not sure,” he muttered. Playing with the mouse and keyboard wasn’t enough, apparently, as he raised his hand to the screen and touched it, both turning bright blue. Bursts of binary littered the computer’s screen as he used his powers to search for an answer.

“Man, I wish my power was that cool,” Brent muttered, glancing at me. I couldn’t help but agree.

Dr. Sims growled. “Damnit. Turns out Carriage House isn’t a place, but a building almost every plantation had.” He removed his hand, the screen regaining color — and showing a map of New Marais. “Our best bet would be to go to the Ascension Parish and look around the plantations, see if we get lucky.” Dr. Sims pointed to a section on the map.

Dad rubbed his face, looking absolutely exhausted at the idea. “Okay. Alright, then we should go. The sooner the better, especially since that’s on the other side of New Marais.”

“I’m coming with you.”

We all turned towards the hall, where Zeke was standing hidden in the shadows. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and looking down at the floor. Or, he was, until Dad spoke up, saying, “I don’t think that’s a good idea—“

“Cole did everything he could for shit like this to not happen,” Zeke said, pushing off of the wall and stepping into the room. “He fought for a peace we ain’t getting. If I can make a bit of that happen? If I can stop some assholes the First Sons mighta helped make? Then I’m doing it. Besides, I haven’t been to the Parish in years — maybe being out there will jog my memory on where this carriage house could be,”

Dad turned his back to Zeke to look at Dr. Sims, his face practically screaming at his friend to tell Zeke to stay here. “We could use the help,” Dr. Sims says, more pointedly at Dad than to Zeke’s offer.

Zeke smiled, hiding his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses. “Guess this is a good time to tell y’all I’ve got a ride too, huh?”

Want more from Xeno? Check out her Evil!Cole Apocalypse AU, inFAMOUS: No Man's Land:

Two years has passed since Cole made the choice that decided the fate of Humans and Conduits alike. Two years since becoming the Beast and saving Conduit-Kind by awakening them. After having the burden of being the "messiah" thrust upon him and dealing with the hardships that came with it, Cole finally has enough. He breaks away from the army he reared and takes off into the Wildlands of the Great Plains, where new opportunities await for the Demon of Empire City to claim.

Not only is Xeno’s story an original twist on a classic AU, but her character voice over Cole MacGrath is so good you’ll feel like you’re listening to Eric Ladin read it to you himself. She did all Cole pieces in this chapter! I cannot suggest it enough if you’re an inFAMOUS 1+2 fan, and hey, even if you’re new here — give it a shot. Who doesn’t love conduits, Mad Max style car chases, and the sort of bogeymen Bertrand would be terrified of?

(Tell Coyote and Crow that Rogue sent you)

#infamous erosion #infamous second son #infamous #infamous 2 #cole macgrath #xeno writes!!!#Zeke Dunbar #Eugene Sims #Delsin Rowe #seriously she did this on mic as a MONOLOGUE do y'all know how hard she made me cry??? this isn't me writing in shit she wrote #she ACTED OUT THE DEAD DROP for me to write accurately and 1. holy shit she can act emotion so well. hidden VA over here 2. I sobbed.#Jean ain't crying bitch that's me.#fanfic #Sucker Punch Productions

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