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ineffable-dads · 5 years ago

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A. Z. Fell and Co.

Good Omens OCs, Peter Walsh, Isabelle Crowley, Snake!Crowley, FLUFF, Awkwardness, Peter being a soft bean

Summary: The first time Peter Walsh and Isabelle Crowley meet. Crowley is amused.

A/N: I know nobody is going to read this, but I just wanted to write about my OCs meeting. If, however, you do read this PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG!!!

Word Count: 3.3K

Peter Walsh stood silently for a long while staring up at the words scrawled carefully across the top of the corner shop.

A.Z. Fell and Co. had long been a rumor among the lecture halls at University, particularly in the religious studies department. Students, professors, and even professors of the professors talked about the shop like it was a mystic castle on the moors, only appearing in the light of a blue moon.

Despite his major or perhaps because of it, Peter put little stock in the supernatural. Similar description of the supposed owner across all tellings as a dapper, slightly plump middle-aged gentlemen with white blonde hair and blue eyes and a propensity to kick one out of the shop with polite determination, could be written off with some degree of logic.

Strong genetics could certainly be a factor if the business was passed down through the generations. There was also the fact people had the amazing ability to create images out of whole cloth. For example, it is widely accepted in the western consciousness that the devil is associated with fire and the color red. There was no evidence for it and even some decidedly against, but the image isn’t liable to die any time soon. A.Z. Fell and Co. and its mysterious owner had simply fell victim to a similar affliction, Peter was sure of it.

All the same, there were things about the stories that did intrigue him; namely, the supposed quantity of quality religious text which lay within it’s walls. It was why he had tried to find it when he was in London, how he came to discover it had moved some twenty-five years previously, and was what finally brought him to the South Downs to a tiny shop snuggly placed in the corner of a quaint seaside village. It had taken him some time to get there and he wanted to breath in the moment of a job well done.

“Right,” he told himself. “Best foot forward then.”

A small chime of the bell welcomed him as the distinct musk of old books washed over his senses.

It was a bookshop if ever a shop had books in it. It was the kind of bookshop he read about as a child just before the protagonist was whisked away on some wild adventure. It had the right smell, the comforting soft browns of faded spines and the perfect temperature for curling beside the nearest window and laying there for hours.

He only had to take a cursorily glance at the titles to know the rumors didn’t do the collection justice. He picked up a random book to find not only was it a first edition of The Voyage Out, but it was signed by Virginia Woolf herself.

Upon seeing the signature, he all but snapped the book shut and placed it back on the shelf. He wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to breath near the collection.

His eyes made a quick turn around the space. There was no one else there. Not even the mysterious owner who he was growing more curious to see. The door was unlocked and there was no closed sign. Just as it occurred to him, he ought to call out to someone, he heard a small rustling behind one of the shelves followed by low, indistinguishable whispers.

He let out a small breath, relieved he hadn’t accidentally committed a minor felony, and wandered over to the line of shelves. He turned the corner ready to greet the mysterious Mr. Fell, but the words died before they could even enter his throat.

A woman stood before him. A very pretty woman. A very pretty woman near his own age, who looked more at home among the shelves than anyone had a right to. She was dressed like a bookkeeper from her long skirt and buttoned up blouse to her large round spectacles. In her hand was cradled a tanning copy of what could only be a first edition of Oscar Wilde’s Poems in Prose. Even her mass of black curls only seemed to cement the impression of an eccentric intellectual as they perfectly framed her high cheekbones and brought a compliment to her dark skin.

The only thing to prevent his eyes from focusing solely on her, was their current preoccupation with the massive black python wrapped around her neck as comfortably as a knitted scarf. Its large head hung gently in the air at the same level where the woman held her book. If Peter hadn’t known better, he might have thought it was reading along.

“Can I help you?”

The words snapped him back to attention as he tore his eyes away from the snake.

He was suddenly very aware of the pounding in his chest and the fact his eyes had been wide open for solid minute. He blinked a few times in a row to make up the difference all while willing his heart to move back to a jogging speed.

He focused his attention now fully on the woman. This did little to help his nerves, but he found it easier to deal with. He had only been scared silent by something capable of killing twice in his life. One time after crossing through the neighbor’s yard when he was six only to be confronted with their rather enthusiastic guard dog and another after nearly getting hit by a spooked horse when he was twelve. Both experiences left him rather shaken and he hadn’t developed a system for coming down after the experience. Being scared silent by girls decidedly prettier than him, however, was something he had perfected.

“R-religious texts?” he managed.

The women stared at him a moment, a look of surprise quickly running across her features. “Two shelves down, near the front desk.”

Peter nodded, and quickly moved in that direction.

He was only partially aware of the murmuring behind him. The words “your idea” and “doesn’t scare easy” being the only clear ones. A part of him wanted to linger on the words and their meaning, but more pressing matters pushed the urge aside; namely, the largest collection of Bibles and books of prophecy he had ever seen in his life.

His mouth gaped as he stared at the titles. It was a theologian’s dream come true.

He let his eyes wander up and down the shelves not daring to soil any of the spines with his bare hands. He wondered if he should ask for a pair of gloves, but quickly dismissed the notion. The idea of having to face both the woman and her snake gave him a fresh wave of anxiety. Instead, he pulled his sleeve over his hand and carefully pulled a book off the shelf.

A deafening hiss came from behind the book just before a flash of black scales snapped out of the dark opening.

Peter jumped back, barely managing to keep hold of the book. The snake stared back at him with dangerous yellow eyes. Another hiss filled the air as its tongue flicked in and out of its open mouth. Peter then remembered snakes smelled with their tongues and was left with the same feelings a chicken has when cornered by hungry fox.

“That one isn’t for sale.”

The voice came straight into his left ear. He whipped around to see the woman standing barely three feet from him. Her arms were crossed, her eyes narrowed, and her lips were pressed into a fine line. In that moment, he wasn’t sure if he should be more frightened of her or the snake.

With caution, he slowly moved his hand back toward the shelf.

The snake seemed to understand as it retreated from it hole, allowing him to put the book back in its place. Unfortunately for Peter, the snake had decided to take a more precarious spot on top of the bookshelf, allowing it to keep its eyes on him and within biting distance.

Peter moved down the shelf, his eyes glancing between the snake, books, and the woman equally. His hand went for another title only for the snake to give the same warning hiss.

“That one isn’t for sale either,” the woman confirmed.

Peter didn’t even bother to look as he hand when for another book.

Another hiss.

“Not that one either.”

A pause followed. Peter felt the need to stay something, but the number and variety of stressors currently looking at him left him drawing a blank. He could only think in clichés and so let out a cough.

“Are these all on reserve?” he asked.

The woman’s expression didn’t change. “They’re not for sale.”

He nodded. His mind clinging to the wall as it crept cautiously towards an idea. He wasn’t going to leave empty handed. He was sure about that, but clearly a change of tactics was in order. Part of the legend of this place was the owner attachment to all of his books. Of course, he wouldn’t have a shop if he didn’t want people to at least look at the books, would he?

“Well, what if I don’t want to buy one?” he said, his mouth moving at the same pace as he mind; slowly, but with forward momentum.

“Excuse me?” The woman’s tone was more curious than accusatory.

Peter felt a small relief, giving him the boost he needed and picked up speed.

“I just want to look at them,” he explained. “I’m a student, you see, and frankly I can’t afford this stuff to begin with. Not stuff! I don’t mean it like that. I just mean…this is an amazing collection and I wouldn’t want to sell them either. But, you see, I really, really need to look at these books. Study them, I mean. I’ve got a dissertation to finish by PhD, and I literally can’t find works like this anywhere else. You don’t have to sell them to me, if you don’t want. And if you’ve got buyers for some of them, I understand, but if I could just read them. I’ll rent them if you like. Or hold my kidney’s ransom or whatever it is you want, but…”

He took a breath, finally getting his thoughts in some kind of coherent order.

“The simple fact is; I need these books. And they’re not going to be much use to anyone sitting on the shelf. Books are meant to be read and appreciated and learned from, and that’s what I’m trying to do. So, let me. Please.”

The woman, stared up at him with an unreadable expression. Despite his instincts, Peter maintained eye contact. Even if he couldn’t express why, he knew it was imperative he didn’t so much as blink during her investigation.

A small tug came to the corner of her lip until it formed into an amused half smile.

“That was quite an impassioned speech.”

She looked just a little impressed with him, and Peter felt his heart beat harder against his ribs. He was sure he was blushing too but was in no position to do anything about it.

“I meant it,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady, given the state of his insides.

“I’m sure you did. Was that your plan all along?”

“What?”

“Well you’re not from around here, obviously,” she said, matter-of-factly. “So that must mean you heard about this place when it was in London. And if you heard of it, you must have also heard about how the owner doesn’t actually like to part with part of their collection.”

Peter knew this was coming to something and so said cautiously, “More or less.”

“So that begs the question,” the woman continued, “was your plan to come all the way down here to the South Downs, to treat the shop as your own personal library?”

Peter opened his mouth. It hung there a moment, but no sound came out. He closed it again.

She looked at him expectantly, with the same unreadable expression he was starting to think was her default setting.

“It wasn’t plan A.” He said it slowly, unsure what line he crossed but trying to show atonement for whatever it was.

The woman let out a laugh. It was clear, bright, and if it hadn’t been at his expense, he would have enjoyed it immensely.

“I’m just messing with you,” she assured. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

Peter blinked. “What really?”

She nodded. “I’ll have to double check with Papa, but I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Oh,” he said, unable to keep the smile off his face. The legend might still have some truth to it yet. “Your Papa is the owner, then?”

“Yes.”

“So that would make you Ms. Fell?”

“It would make me Ms. Crowley,” she corrected.

The look of confusion must had been evident on his face as she elaborated. “My Dad got first dibs on the name. Though that does leave me curious, do you call every girl you meet, miss?”

“Only the ones that scare me.”

A wide smile spread across her face and Peter was faced with the mortifying realization he had said the words out loud.

“If I told you my name was Isabelle, would you be less scared,” she asked, still laughing at him behind her eyes.

Peter’s lip twisted upward despite himself. He did like her laugh, even the silent ones.

“Just a bit,” he said. “I’m Peter by the way, Peter Walsh.”

He offered her his hand, which she immediately took in hers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Peter Walsh.”

“Nice to meet you too, Miss Isabelle Crowley.”

Their hands dropped. Peter swore he could feel his hand tingle ever so slightly.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you around then,” she said.

“Yeah,” Peter said, the thought of seeing her again leaving his brain a little fuzzy. He would be seeing her quite a bit if this worked out with her Dad. Almost every day. He did have a paper to finish after all.

Her head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

His stomach dropped then. He had been staring too long.

“Right!” he said, just a little too loudly. “Of course you will.” He pointed vaguely towards the door behind him, not having it in him to fully turn away from her. “I’ll just see myself out and see you tomorrow, maybe?”

She shrugged. “Only if you want to get started sooner rather than later.”

He stared to nod. “Yes. Good. Research. Books. I definitely need to get started. Tomorrow.” He couldn’t stop nodding, even as he slowly made his way towards the front door.

His back hit something hard, and it was only then did he realize he hadn’t bothered to turn around. He whipped around to see the shelf he had run into rock slightly, but not damage had been done.

Just above his head, he heard a small hiss. He looked up to see the snake staring at him. He didn’t think snakes were capable of showing any real emotion, but in that moment, he could have sworn the serpent was laughing at him.

He looked to Isabelle. She was trying her best, but the smile on her face would not be contained by the hand over her mouth.

Peter gave a short laugh, as if that would make it less embarrassing, and all but ran out of the shop.

The door shut behind him with a chime as cool sea air poured into his lungs. He took heaping gulps of it as if he had just come up from a deep dive. It hadn’t been real, had it? Logically it must have. It had just happened. All the same, the cobble stones beneath his feet, the sun glowing behind thin cloud, and the breeze against his skin felt more real than anything he had experienced in the last ten minutes. He turned back around, half expecting for the shop no longer to be there, like in all the story books where the protagonist can never find the little door beneath the staircase or the hole in the fence once they come back from the other side. But there it stood. The sign A. Z. Fell and Co. still hung over the shop door. Shelves of books could be made out through the window and Isabelle Crowley walked among them, book in hand, and the snake draped once again around her neck.

Peter took another breath and let it out slowly.

“Fuck me.”

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Isabelle couldn’t hold it in any longer. As soon as the door chimed shut, she let out a hearty laugh.

Her Dad joined her, his laughter coming out in a series of high pitched hisses.

“I think that went rather well,” he mused.

“Yes, you’ve successfully traumatized a grad student,” Isabelle said.

“Asss if you wasn’t your idea.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes and walked over to the shelf the serpent was perched on. She held out her arm, allowing him to slither down and curl himself around her neck.

“Do you think he will come back?” Isabelle asked, idly.

“Oh, I think ssso,” Crowley answered. “Ssseemed like the determined sssort. Besidesss, he’s got a reason to come back.”

Isabelle nodded, taking a quick glance around at the shelves of books and all the knowledge they contained.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “There really is no other place like it, is there?”

Crowley hissed out a chuckle.

She looked down at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing Izz, just sometimes, you act exactly like Aziraphale.”

She laughed it off, or at least tried to. The sound never even made it to her throat. She had assumed he was referring to her clear love of books, but something in his eyes told her otherwise.

“What did you think of him?” Crowley asked, before she could linger on the feeling.

“Who? Peter?”

Crowley shot her a sardonic look.

She shrugged, not knowing what else to do. “I don’t know. He seemed nice enough. A nervous wreck, but you did almost bite his face off.”

“Is that all?”

She stood silent for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Everything in his demeanor and tone painted the image of a shy, slightly awkward academic. He was slim, but not overly so. Tall, but not too tall. A little pale, no doubt from the lack of sunlight in dark achieve basements. His hands fidgeted, but she didn’t get the impression he was perpetually nervous. All the same, there was something else about him.

His little speech spoke of an underlining passion. He knew what he had come there for and wasn’t going to leave until he got it. It hinted at a confidence she was interested to see more of.

Yes, she would like to see him again. She would like to talk to him and see if she could get him to smile that wide smile which lit up those green eyes of his. She couldn’t think of a single person she’d met with proper green eyes like that.

“Wouldn’t mind talking to him again,” she admitted. “Why do you ask?”

Crowley rocked his head from side to side, giving the effect of shrugging without shoulders. “No reason, just ssseemed like a bright young lad.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why is it I feel like you know something I don’t?”

“That’s because I do.”

Isabelle frowned, but Crowley countered by playfully nudging her with his scaly head.

“Nothing you need to worry about, my girl, crosssss my heart. All will reveal itself, soon enough.”

She wanted to press the matter, but let it go. If her Dad wanted to play his little game, she’d let him. No real harm could come of it.

“So, which one of us is going to tell Papa we’re allowing someone to rent his books?”

“I did no such thing,” Crowley defended. “That’sss all on you. You explain it to him.”

She let out a groan.

“No good deed goes unpunished,” he teased.

“Right,” she grumbled.

It really was going to be a trick convincing her Papa. But then she thought of Peter, and all her doubts melted away. She could do it. She told him she could, and she would. No matter what it took.

#crowley #anthony j crowley #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable dads #good omens oc #isabelle crowley #peter walsh #isabelle x peter

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rosesisupposes · 5 years ago

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Fall to Rise

Part 11 of Another Goddamn Hero Story

read on ao3

Chapter Relationships: Romantic LAMP; Familial LAMPT; Background OC pairings;

Chapter Warnings: Memories of trauma; questioning memories/reality; mentions of past death/murder; cadaver mention; Human experimentation; nonconsensual experimentation; cryogenic freezing; mention of blood loss

Word Count: over 7,600 i’m so sorry

Taglist: @residentanchor @royally-anxious@bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm@arandompasserby @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse@thelowlysatsuma @monsterinatophat @turtally-pawsome @um-yes-hi-hello @idkaurl @potestessemagishomosexualitatis@hawthornshadow

a/n: yeah, it's been a minute. i started law school, things got hectic. here’s a Lot of Things

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337501 [UPDATED] Classification: M.1.iv [Primary Tier Neutral, Unknown] Name: Agent Whisper Status: INACTIVE /////////Reason: Reformation-In-Progress, Enrolled Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Thomas Sanders Affiliation: Neutral Partners/Sidekicks: DI#A-4894 - Team Left Brain; DI#A-4895 - Team Right Brain; /////////The two teams volunteered to oversee his reformation Primary Foes: None Powers: Pathokinesis - Broad Spectrum; Illusions - Broad Spectrum; Self-Healing/Rejuvenation - Broad Spectrum; /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] There have been multiple edits to this entry, and I’ve no idea why, and I can’t see the history. Can you check this? - Joan Costume: Black t-shirt with a skull that can change between white and floral, jeans. Age: 19 Height: 5’10” Pronouns: He/Him H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Enrolled Note: Brother of DI#337437 - Gale Force; Presumed killed in IR15-Z-0632, apparently self-healed; Unclear if powers were created by [REDACTED], or if they were always present and [REDACTED]. /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Talyn, what’s going on? Why can’t I un-redact these phrases? /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] I have no idea - these details weren’t added by me. It makes no sense. The note was added, and then edited and redacted. But from the code it looks like both changes were from… Logan?

~~~~~~

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337413 [UPDATED] Classification: Class A.2.iii [Secondary Tier Hero, anomaly] Name: Crimson Marauder Status: ACTIVE Civilian Name: [TOP SECRET] Roman Fitzroy Affiliation: Hero ///////// H.A.T.C.H. Status: On Call Partners/Sidekicks: member of DI#A-4895 - Team Right Brain; Works with DI#A-4894 - Team Left Brain; Primary Foes: N/A Powers: Psionic Construction; /////////Able to manipulate color of constructions along the red spectrum, unless it is a previously-created object being stored in a psionic pocket dimension; Constructs that have persisted need less energy to maintain; complete lack of consciousness can deconstruct Costume: Black Suit with Red Blocks, Gold Belt, Black and Red Cape with Gold accents; Black and gold mask Age: 25 Height: 5’ 11” Pronouns: He/Him H.E.A.R.T.S. Class N/A Note: Formerly known as Scarlet Prince, see DI#337321; Origin and family unknown

~~~~~~

D.R.E.A.M. Index #337437 [UPDATED] Classification: A.1.iv [Primary Tier Hero, unknown] Name: Gale Force Status: ACTIVE ///////// H.A.T.C.H. Status: Blackout Only Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Patton Sanders Affiliation: Hero Partners/Sidekicks: member of DI#A-4895 - Team Right Brain; Works with DI#A-4894 - Team Left Brain; Primary Foes: N/A Powers: Air Manipulation - Broad Spectrum; Costume: Grey calf-length tunic, slits up to waist with loose sleeves over loose white trousers; light blue belt; matching blue symbol of a hurricane across chest. Does not wear a mask. Age: 21 Height: 5’10” Pronouns: He/Him H.E.A.R.T.S. Class: Enrolled Note: Highly volatile, responsible for deaths of DI#265351 - Commander Eagle and DI#337236 - Silver Sparrow, see IR15-Z-0632; First appearance at Harmony City Foster Care; Origin and family unknown. ///////// Changed affiliation after unmasking of DI#337501 - Agent Whisper revealed to be his brother. Still unclear if he is an anomaly or if the Sanders bloodline is super, particularly because of DI#337501’s involvement in [REDACTED]. /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Talyn, it’s happened again here! Has Logan been messing in our files? /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Joan, this is really troubling - some of the edits have been made while I know Logan has been in the field. DREAM may have been hacked. I’m going to have to suspend all access until further notice.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

“Pat, are you sure about this?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”

“This just feels like the superhero equivalent of a whoopie cushion. Or ‘down low, too slow.’”

Patton hugged his brother around the shoulders. “I mean it, Tommy Salami! You won’t be hurt.”

“It’s a long way down, though,” Thomas said, eyeing the edge of the roof nervously.

“Never fear! Your knight is here!” Roman announced, landing gently by the brothers with a smile. He bowed gallantly to the teen. “Sir Roman Fitzroy, on official Safety Net duty!”

Thomas smiled shyly. “You’re sure?”

“Of course, my Very Special Agent! Even if you can’t fly naturally, you’ll feel just like a bird,” Roman said, gesturing off the roof with a flourish. Floating in mid-air was a giant red cushion, soft, plush, and downy.

Other students at HEARTS were mingling around in various levels of trepidation and excitement. Some were confirmed flyers, ready to practice more and to build up their reaction time. Some were like Thomas, testing for latent abilities in a controlled environment. And some knew they couldn’t fly, but were here for the experience anyway.

“Ready?” the teacher called. A ten-year-old wearing what looked suspiciously like a beloved blankie tied around their neck like a cape clapped their hands and nodded. “Here we go!”

The teacher scooped the little one up and tossed them onto the trampoline, launching them into the air in a burst of surprised giggles. Their cape fluttered behind them as they bounced, eyes squeezed tightly shut. When they finally opened them, it was to realize they were floating about fifteen feet above the heads of their classmates.

“I doned it!”

“Yes indeed! You did it!” one of the older students said as their classmates clapped and cheered. The elder girl floated up serenely to their level. “Can you get down yourself?”

The child frowned and focused on their feet. Slowly, they lowered down to the ground once more, sparking another round of applause as the next student stepped up to try.

Finally, it was Thomas’ turn. There were rounds of encouragement from the crowd, though more subdued than they had been for the others. But the youngest students didn’t flinch or waver, just cheered as Thomas offered his hand to the teacher. Patton floated just by the edge of the roof, Roman at his side, ready with the enormous cushion to catch him should he go awry.

Virgil glided up beside the two just as Thomas was tossed onto the trampoline. He bounced high into the air, making a strangled yell that grew louder as he immediately started to plummet. But in a breath, air wrapped around him and he was gently deposited on his feet by Patton’s side.

He smiled shakily at his brother. “I guess you got the ginger and the flying genes, Pat.”

“You okay now?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Thomas said. He looked over at the other students. The ten-year-old who’d gone first was going for a second turn, keeping their eyes open this time. “I think I’ll leave the flying attempts to the experts though. C.C. was right - they said they weren’t sure I’d like it.”

“Who’s-” Patton started, but one of the students walked over with impeccable timing.

“Hi! I’m CC! I’m in Thomas’ class.”

Patton grinned and shook their hand. “I’m Patton, Thomas’ brother.”

“And you’re also Gale Force,” CC said with a nod.

“Only when I’m in uniform! I wouldn’t want you all to think I’m full of hot air,” he replied with a wink.

They laughed brightly. “Ooh, can I add that to my list? I’m documenting super school, you see. The conversations here are so much fun to overhear!”

Patton agreed willingly, and asked about their favorites and classes, watching with pleasure as they drew Thomas into the conversation too. Not everyone was so comfortable with his brother, the shadow of his past still lurking in their minds.

CC smiled suddenly at the brothers, interrupting the conversation. “Did you know? You’re going to be happy.”

“Is that another prediction?” Thomas asked them. He slipped a hand into Patton’s, a tic of seeking reassurance that had been carrying them both through their school days.

CC shook their head, smiling softly. “It’s a guarantee.”

Only feet away, Virgil tugged Roman towards him, fidgeting with the papers in his other hand. “Hey, could you come over here for a second?” Roman looked nervously at Pat and Thomas, not wanting to leave them. Virgil smiled in understanding. “We won’t go far - I’ll help you keep an eye on them. I just want to be safely out of earshot.”

Roman followed him to the the other half of the roof, where the building rose up into the elevated classrooms. He was intrigued by whatever Virgil had to say, but still took the opportunity to slip a hand into his back pocket to squeeze his ass.

Virgil turned with a smile, bringing them chest to chest, and leaned down to steal a kiss. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Depends, is it working?” Roman asked with a wink. The past month had seen them all maintaining a laser-sharp focus on Thomas and his recovery, leaving only the occasional night and stolen moment for them to solidify the affections they’d finally expressed in so many words. Virgil, Logan, and Roman all cared far more about supporting Patton in his reunion and joint recovery with his brother than escalating their relationship - but there were still the occasional moments where they couldn’t, or didn’t want to, restrain themselves.

Virgil drew back smirking, one brow raised. “Up to you, Princey. We can get distracted in the closet right around the corner, or I can share the surprise with you.”

Roman exaggerated his pout, circling Virgil’s muscled waist with both arms. “How dare you pit my love of your kisses against my love of surprises. Can’t I have both?”

Virgil kissed Roman’s temple. “Here, read this first, and maybe there’ll be time for distraction after.”

He handed Roman the sheaf of paper he’d been twisting in his hands. Roman smoothed out the crinkles and glanced over it. He did a double take and looked over it again, reading closer, mouth falling open as he went.

“A new foster home?”

“Not just any foster home,” Virgil said, a smile slowly stretching across his face. “One that’ll allow supers to stay together with non-supers. One that’ll work with HEARTS without making kids leave their home to learn.”

“For them?” Roman asked, glancing back across the roof at Patton and Thomas.

Virgil nodded. “For them and everyone like them. And if a kid is staying there, there won’t be a cost to go to HEARTS. I’m working on Joan to allow the normal foster allowances to go towards school fees.”

Roman smoothed the paper again with hands that shook slightly. “For me,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question, but Virgil nodded all the same, resting a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s waist.

Roman’s eyes filled slightly as he smiled up into Virgil’s dark ones. “Virge, this is wonderful . Where’s it going to be? Who’s gonna run it?”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling slightly. “My family’s house, actually. It was my moms’ idea. I already have to talk them out of adopting every single friend they meet - what if I just… didn’t talk them out of it? And I’m hoping that this means Thomas won’t ever have to be on call. His detail can just be protecting the kids, maybe keep Pat with him too-”

Any further words were cut off by Roman tugging his head down to silence him with enthusiastic kiss after kiss. “You wonderful, brilliant, beautiful man,” Roman said in between kisses. “You’re so considerate and sweet and smart!”

The packet of papers were discarded as Virgil responded with equal enthusiasm despite a spreading blush. Roman summoned a discreet wall around them, preempting any students stumbling by.

They could tell the others the news later, at a less interesting time.

~~~~~~

That evening found the brothers Sanders taking time away from the other students again. Mealtimes were fine, but the atmosphere after dinner, where teens and kids and young adults all mixed and played in the common areas still had twinges of uncomfortable familiarity.

So Thomas sat instead with his brother on the roof of the school in the setting sun, staring out at the reflection of the clouds on the harbor. The light bathed his face in blood-red tones as he listened to the crash of waves and call of gulls.

“Patton, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he started, then paused with a nervous laugh. “I don’t know that I really want to know, but I have to find out sometime. How do I know when it became real?”

“What do you mean, kiddo?”

“I spent so long hallucinating in what I think was the facility. But I saw myself escaping almost every day. When did I do it for real? When did I start infecting everyone else with my visions?”

Patton turned to look at his brother. The boy looked scared, but his face was set, even as he refused to make eye contact.

“It was a bit over a month ago that the first attack came,” Patton supplied.

“What happened in that one, Pat?” Thomas asked. His voice was strained and distant.

“Are you sure you want to know, Tommy? You didn’t know what you were doing, you can’t blame yourself-”

“Yes I can, Patton!” Thomas interrupted. “I have to! I didn’t know it was real, but I still chose to attack innocent people, even if I thought they were just illusions. I could have stayed nonviolent, I could have just tried to hide from it all, but I just… it hurt, so much, every time I watched the home collapse around me, every time I had to feel the fire and bricks blasting through us, and I lashed out. I need to know what I did. How else will I ever make up for it?”

Tears leaked out of Patton’s eyes. “You’re… Thomathy, I know you will make up for all of it. We both will. I lashed out, too. We’ll work hard, and we’ll become the heroes we needed when we were younger. We’ll help.”

Thomas grabbed Patton’s hand, squeezing too tightly. “I still need to know, Pat. What did I do that was real? What happened that first time?”

Patton sucked in a shaky breath. “How many of our friends do you remember, from before? From when we were kids?”

Thomas closed his eyes. “I remember… I remember Leo. And Derri and Dahlia. And… Ms. and Miss Parson.” He opened his eyes, looking anxiously at Patton. “Am I right? Were they real?”

“They were real,” Patton confirmed. “They were our Hundred-Acre Wood friends and our moms, or the closest we got.” He steeled himself, breathing in deep. “Do… do you remember Damien?”

Thomas frowned, responding slowly. “Yes, I think I do. He was older than me? He left, early. There was… something happened. An accident?” He looked for confirmation.

“Sort of. The experiments weren’t an accident, but the fire in the lab was. Dam’ got adopted and then the man who’d taken him turned out to be not very nice.”

Thomas stiffened at the mention of ‘lab’, but he squeezed Patton’s hand tight and forced himself to relax. “I… yes, I remember. Did he…?”

“He survived, but we didn’t know it. I only learned he was alive recently… the day of your first real attack. He was transformed, given powers, so he got sent here instead of back home.” Patton gestured to the brick school underneath them. “Tommy… do you remember who was with Damien when he left?”

Thomas spoke sadly, eyes fixed on the horizon, staring off into distant haze of remembrance. “Val. Valerie. Kanga. She… we lost her too.”

Patton swallowed. “She… was in the same place as Damien.”

“And the same thing happened to her?” Thomas turned to look at Patton, his eyes searching for confirmation. At Patton’s nod, he looked off, eyes flitting as he poured through his twisted, unclear memories. “I dreamed about her a lot. I saw her so many times. She kept coming back, sometimes the same age I remember her, sometimes older. One time she brought me Teddy. But usually she just hated me. She blamed me for letting her go and letting her get hurt and... I could never help, never enough.”

Patton squeezed his brother’s hand. “What was the last time you saw her?”

Thomas frowned. “I… the day I hurt Roman. She was there, angry with me, telling me that Roman was the reason she was so hurt. She had burn scars from his light powers, and dark bruises all over.” He looked up. “What that real?”

“No, it wasn’t, kiddo. Roman never met her,” Patton said. Tears were coursing down his face, and his voice was thick. “The last real time was three days before that. She… she was given powers too, like Damien, but they were painful. She had feathers growing out of her skin, purple and black ones…”

Thomas scrambled to stand, backing away from his brother. “No. No, you’re lying! That time wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been!”

Patton stood too, grabbing Thomas’ hand before he walked off the roof by accident. Tears continued to fall down his face. “I’m sorry, Tommy. It’s real.”

“But that means that I-” Thomas choked out, and then the sobs took over as he crumpled to the ground. His entire body shivered and convulsed as the reality of his actions took hold.

Patton knelt with him, trying to hold as much of him as possible, crying into his shirt. “You didn’t know,” he whispered. “You didn’t mean it.”

“But I did it anyway!” Thomas wailed. “What have I done, Pat? What kind of monster am I?”

“The one you were made into,” his brother said, voice hardening despite his grief. “The one the world created, leaving you behind. Like they left me behind.”

“The world didn’t create me, Pat,” Thomas responded. “People did, and I did.”

Now Patton looked at him in confusion. “The heroes? They created me too. They’re part of the world.”

“No, Pat. The people in that facility. The lab. Whatever it was.”

Patton hesitated. “I don’t want to make you talk about it, but… what do you remember of that place? Do you remember faces?”

Thomas wiped his eyes. “No. Maybe I did once, but I- no, I don’t want to remember. It’s too much. Too much pain and fire and…” He curled in on himself again. “Please don’t ask me to remember them, ” he asked in a tiny voice.

Patton wrapped his arms around as much of him as he could, holding him close. “I won’t. I’m sorry, Tommy. It’s okay now. You’re here. You’re safe.”

Thomas reached up a hand to bunch in Patton’s shirt, gripping tightly. “Is this real?” he whispered.

“Real, Thomas. It’s real.”

~~~~~~

Things weren’t always great. Logan had learned to be okay with that. Thomas had nightmares, waking in cold sweat and anger, lashing out at anyone who got close. But slowly, he was recognizing them all faster, seeing them as safe. Recovery would be a long road, but they were all on their way. Virgil had started therapy, partly at Logan’s urging and partly as encouragement for Roman and the Sanders to go too. Logan came sometimes for group sessions, more a supporter than a patient. Roman and Patton had nightmares too, but they always woke to the tangle of limbs in the enormous bed that now dominated most of Virgil’s apartment bedroom. They had a good arrangement, even if Logan was finding that he became far too easily flustered by Roman and Patton’s much more overt forms of affection. It was new and intriguing, but the frequency with which he blushed now was, frankly, embarrassing.

He had time to discover all the new shades of red he was able to turn because the level of super activity had also dropped sharply. Virgil and Logan hadn’t been called since that last attack, and they’d been reveling in their newly-free time by exploring the city as civilians, bringing their boyfriends and Thomas out to the Skylar home in surburbia, and taking them on leisurely flights above the cloud cover. When Logan received a call one morning to go see the mayor at City Hall, he was more intrigued than alert.

“Virge, wanna come?”

“Hm, I didn’t get the call, you think I could?”

“Why not? It’s just Joan.”

“You’re right. C’mon, starlight. Want a lift?”

They walked into the office together, stopping short as they realized the alert hadn’t been quite the casual call they’d assumed. The windows were blocked out with heavy shades. The table was covered in printout and status reports that threatened to drown a very frazzled-looking Talyn in paper.

“Joan, Talyn, what’s going on? You needed to speak with me?” Logan asked. “I brought Virgil, I hope that’s okay…”

Joan paced backed and forth, their normal worry lines looker much deeper than normal. They paused one or twice, about to speak, but glanced at Virgil and Logan, then around the room, and away as they resumed pacing. Finally, they sighed and asked, “Can we go to the roof?”

The roof of City Hall was the same graceful style as the rest of the Neo-Renaissance building, with swooping arches and balustrading that made it stand apart from the marble of the other government buildings. The roof had a cupola that had clearly been designed to make it even more distinctive. Now, it functioned as an entrance for flying supers into the building, one that Virgil preferred if he was arriving without Logan. But that wasn’t its only purpose.

“I’m going to turn on the dampers,” Joan told them bluntly as they filed into the small space from the stairwell.

Logan stiffened in shock, glaring at the mayor.

Virgil reached out a gentle hand to rest on his boyfriend’s back. “I trust it’s for a good reason?” he asked Joan drily.

The mayor nodded. “It’s not about you two. It’s to keep other powers out. I really, really don’t want anyone to overhear.”

Logan sighed, his shoulders falling from their tense position. “I know you wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. Go ahead.”

Talyn quickly tapped in a PIN on one of the columns, then a now-glowing button. Walls of light blinked into being around them and sealed over the entrance to the rest of the building. Virgil flexed and stretched his free arm. Knowing that his strength and durability were being neutralized wasn’t a comfortable feeling, even if he understood that it was sometimes necessary. He kept the other hand solidly on Logan’s lower back, feeling the man tremble slightly and offering comfort.

“What’s so important that needs all this secrecy, Mayor Stokes,” Logan asked, voice clipped.

Talyn came over with their tablet in both hands. “It’s the database. DREAM’s been compromised.” There was a slight tremor in their hands as they showed Logan the screenshots from the most recently-updated records. “I created this tool, and Joan is the highest-ranking official in the city, and neither of us can read these edits. All we know is that according to the system, you were the one making them.”

Logan took the tablet, staring hard. Finally he looked up. “I didn’t make these changes.” Three pairs of eyes looked back in concern. “But,” he continued, looking at the screen in confusion, “I think I know who did.”

“And who would it be?”

“Drs. Atticus and Portia Lancaster,” Logan said. “My parents. I- it looks like it might be related to their work on the origin of powers. They’ve been hinting at some more exciting experiments.”

“Hold up,” Joan interjected. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was all under the umbrella of EANSC 2.0, and my understanding was they weren’t sure there was anything to find, let alone brief you on. If you didn’t read the full reports, you might not have noticed,” Logan said, removing his glasses to rub his temples. His fingers shook, but his voice remained steady, if a bit detached. “I don’t know the full details myself. If I’d known you hadn’t been informed, I would have procured a summary for you.”

“Lo, we need to get these dampers off and go talk to them,” Virgil said. “If they can tell us more about how to help Thomas, we need to know sooner rather than later.”

Logan replaced his glasses. “Yes. Yes, of course. I- Yes. We shall do that. Yes.”

Virgil paused in his pacing and came over, cupping Logan’s chin in his hand. “Lo? Are you alright?”

Logan looked up at him and attempted a smile. “I… I am trepidatious. I am unclear as to why they would have neglected to inform me, if they made a breakthrough like this seems to imply.” His voice sounded oddly formal and strained. “Let us go discuss with them at once. And, Virgil, if you would - permit me to take the lead, as it were. I am quite confident there will be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. We need only ask without accusation, and it should be all revealed to us.”

“Logan-” Joan started, but Logan just shook his head. Talyn typed in their PIN again to deactivate the dampers.

“You’ll at least let us know what they say?” Joan asked as Logan and Virgil stepped to the edge of the cupola.

Logan took a deep breath and looked back. “You’ll be the first.” He stepped off the edge, becoming a blur as he did so.

Virgil nodded to both Joan and Talyn before leaping out to follow his partner.

~~~~~~

“Logan! Virgil! What a lovely surprise!”

The Drs. Lancaster were both in their lab at the university, and Portia greeted them both with a smile and a little wave. Her red hair was pulled back into a bun, but wavy strands had popped free, held back only by the headband tied into a bow. Virgil had asked, once, how no one ever recognized the former public face of Harmony City’s Heroes, even if she had changed her last name. The doctor had winked, tapping her frames, and said, “It’s all in the glasses.”

Her husband was able to pause his work too and came over smiling. Virgil had always liked the Docs - they’d welcomed him into their home as his ‘City Family,’ once it became clear he couldn’t commute out to his mums in the suburbs as much as he would have liked.

He really, really hoped that Logan was correct.

“What brings you ‘round, big guy? It’s been months!” Atticus asked, going for a hug. Virgil didn’t so much hug back as he patted the man’s shoulders awkwardly, glancing meaningfully at Logan.

The young man cleared his throat. “Mom, Dad, I have a question for you.”

Atticus’ eyes lit up, looking at Virgil and back to his son. “Are you asking us for our blessing, finally?”

Logan did a slight double-take. “Beg pardon?”

Portia chuckled, slinking an arm around Atticus’ waist. “Your father here has been hoping you’re going to make an honest man out of Virgil soon.”

Virgil blushed deep crimson at that. “I- uh. Our boyfriends might object if we got married without them?”

Logan elbowed him. “Virge, I hadn’t told them that yet-”

“Shit-”

“Boyfriends? Multiple? Are you starting a collection?” Atticus asked, blinking. “Is it like a butterfly collection, are you collecting taxonomic details?”

Logan cleared his throat. “No, Dad. I- Virgil and I have started mutually dating Roman and Patton. All four of us as equal romantic partners.”

A slight crease formed in Portia’s forehead. “Roman and Patton? Have we met them?”

“Not as such, no,” Logan said, not meeting either parents’ eyes as he fiddled with his glasses.

Atticus and Portia stared in a mixture of confusion and concern. Logan shot Virgil a pleading look, linking their fingers together.

Virgil flinched. This conversation was far more personal than he’d been prepared for, but he’d gotten them into this mess in the first place. “You may know them by their super names - Crimson Marauder and Gale Force.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s fingers so tightly that he would have bruised, if he ever bruised.

Portia pursed her lips, the wrinkle in her brow becoming more pronounced. “Weren’t you fighting them, dear?”

“Yes, Mother, I was,” Logan started. “But things, ah, changed. And they’re reformed now.”

Virgil wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Atticus’ face in something that had to try so hard to taken as a smile. “But they’re villains, Lo?”

“They were villains,” Virgil clarified. “They both went through-- god, they went through some rough shit, and the anger from their experiences made them more villainous for a while there. But they really are wonderful men, and they’re nonviolent now.”

“Well. I suppose such a thing is possible, hypothetically,” Portia replied. She tapped her lips with a long, elegant finger. “If trauma was so involved in their moral failings, what on earth could have shaken them enough that they’re now attempting to erase them?”

If Virgil had been a cat, he would have hissed. Instead, his shoulders and back stiffened even as a chill ran down his spine. He exhaled slowly, making sure he didn’t accidentally squeeze Logan’s hand back. Feeling like this, he might hurt him inadvertently.

“Actually, Mother, Father, the answer to that question is the very question we have come to ask,” Logan said. He stood ramrod straight, meeting his mother’s eyes levelly despite the difference in their heights.

“What’s with the fancy-talk, Lolo?” Atticus asked, chuckling uncomfortably. “We’re all family here.”

“Speaking of family,” Logan continued, “Patton and Roman found their perspective on what makes a hero or villain dramatically changed by the events of the last several months. This was largely to the reappearance of Patton’s brother, Thomas Sanders.”

Virgil had never quite determined if his acute awareness of others’ body movements was part of his powers, or if it was just the natural power of anxiety. But it was enough for him to notice that both the Drs. Lancaster blinked in a way that looked a lot like recognition.

“That may be another name you have not heard, I am aware,” Logan continued. “But I am quite confident you know who he is. His alias was Agent Whisper.”

Portia gasped. “Goodness, how upsetting for your friend that his brother was such a terror upon our city! No wonder he was so upset. Such a reveal, and losing even an evil sibling would be terrible, I’m sure.”

“Dr. Lancaster,” Virgil cut in, “Patton didn’t lose his brother again. Thomas is also in reform. I thought you knew.”

“How would I know, dear?”

“Because you’ve been in the DREAM Index,” Logan replied, taking back the thread.

Atticus smiled, round cheeks crinkling. “Lo, you know she doesn’t have access to that anymore! They can’t let just anyone see all the supers’ data!”

“But you two do. You asked for my information, when I handed off my dissertation. To cross-reference, you said.”

Portia pursed her lips. “We did, didn’t we. It must have slipped my mind.”

Logan frowned. “Mother. Please. One of you has been making edits under my name. I’d like to know why, and what it has to do with Thomas.”

“That was me,” Atticus said. “I was preserving the integrity of our research. You know how important that is.”

“Which research was being implicated?” Portia asked conversationally, as if her only son wasn’t still staring her down.

“Project Charcoal.”

“Ah, a good call, my love. That’s far too sensitive to be revealed.”

“Even to the mayor?” Virgil asked innocently. “Because not even they could see past the redaction.”

Atticus walked over to the lab bench. “Lo, come sit. No need to be so suspicious - you know we’ll tell you everything.”

Logan looked to Virgil automatically, who shrugged in response. Are we ready to do this? Do we have a choice? They squeezed their interlocked hands and sat across the bench from the doctors.

“So. My dissertation became Project Charcoal,” Logan stated.

“Yes, that’s what it came to be called,” Portia said. “EANSC 2.0 was too much of a mouthful, and lost accuracy.”

“And you didn’t tell me this sooner because…?”

“You never asked, kiddo,” Atticus said with a smile. “We were telling you about our experiments - the refining of the dampener field, the RNA sequencing, that’s all under the project!”

Logan frowned. “And yet, there is clearly more that you neglected to mention.”

“Well, yes, but we didn’t want to distract you. Your hero work was more important,” Portia explained. “We were continuing our research on side-effects of EAs on civilians and it ended up being merged together, that was really the only big change we didn’t tell you about.”

“...the side-effect research?” Virgil asked quietly.

“It started after the Mystic Magician,” Logan explained. “He managed to succeed, in a terrible way. The Viper is proof of that, and the Condor was too. But it rocked the conventional understanding of enhanced abilities. My parents and the larger genetic research community started looking into whether or not civilians were affected by being exposed to active abilities.”

Atticus nodded. “We wanted to minimize collateral damage beyond what could be seen. Were bystanders being slowly mutated? Was the density of supers here self-fulfilling? So we looked at both demographic data and autopsies of casualties from super fights. We started seeing the beginnings of patterns, but nothing definite. And then we hit a wall completely when Logan was about nine years old.”

“And then, in a fluke, we discovered the EANSC - the Neutralization & Stasis Chamber. And the dampening field,” Portia said, eyes alight. “An electromagnetic field that affected the use of powers. For the first time ever, there was the idea that abilities could actually be affected externally. We had a whole new way to conceptualize the side-effects and to focus our research. And only two years after we perfected EANSC enough to implement, Logan joined us in studying just how the emotional effects of the dampers were connected to the use of abilities.” She smiled fondly at her son. “If we hadn’t been inspired before, getting to work with you was what really did it.”

Logan smiled back, relaxing. “Thanks, Mom.”

Virgil was frowning, though. “But what were you looking for?”

Logan grinned at his boyfriend, squeezing his hand. “We’re scientists, Virge, isn’t it obvious?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

Logan opened his mouth to speak at the same time as his mother did the same.

“A greater understanding of the world!!”

“A way to stop supervillains forever.”

Logan whipped around, jaw going slack. “What?”

Atticus nodded. “Loberry, don’t be naive. We don’t get these kinds of resources just for being lecturers at the university. We don’t get highest clearance in the city for teaching undergrads how to run a simple gel electrophoresis. We’re on a direct research mandate from the State. Why do you think your mother thought this work was more important than remaining an active-duty hero?”

The blood was slowly draining out of Logan’s face. “I- she was taking time off for us, for me and Bea and Jem, right?” He looked at Portia, who smiled.

“Of course, dear, that too. But I’d been fighting for almost 20 years. I was practically a senior citizen in hero years. And I was so tired of fighting villains, over and over, knowing there would always be more. So when we were asked if we’d like to work towards ending the fight once and for all, I couldn’t very well say no!”

Virgil looked sick. “You- and what, you’d unmake villains? Like the Magician tried to make them?”

Atticus laughed. “Of course not! The Magician was so ham-handed, it was sloppily done and clearly had painful results. We wanted a painless way to remove the risk. Like declawing a cat.”

“Declawing a cat isn’t painless, it’s mutilation,” Virgil snapped. “It leaves them entirely unable to fend for themselves. Was that the plan? Non-heroes left defenseless?”

“In captivity, preferably, until we were sure they could re-enter society,” Portia said with a shrug. “It’s more humane that the life sentence they get now, except for those who break out.”

Logan had released Virgil’s hands, instead gripping the table until his knuckles had turned white. “You never told me,” he said to himself quietly. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked up. “You know more about Agent Whisper than you’ve admitted, too. Tell me. Now.”

Atticus made eye contact with Portia, who inclined her head.

“We examined bystander casualties directly after some incidents and were able to find electromagnetic signatures in the brains that resembled damper fields, but different in a very key way. They were equal and opposite. If the fields correspond to suppressed emotions, then these brains had their emotions intensified, instead.”

Virgil shivered at the thought, reaching for Logan once more under the bench. Without looking, Logan moved a hand to link their fingers once more. He kept his gaze fixed on his parents.

“If there was a heightened effect happening as collateral in bystanders, we thought, there was a chance we could recreate it deliberately,” Portia continued. “And if it persisted enough to show up in autopsy, that modulation in both directions could potentially be made permanent. We could replicate dampers without the tech! But we needed to look at side effects first. We had to wait for more casualties with exposure to extreme ability usage.”

Virgil felt a headache starting to drum in his temples, the ache of anger and tears that he refused to let fall as the pieces connected before him. “And you got the fucking golden opportunity, didn’t you. At the foster home. All of Pat’s rage and grief just created the goddamn ideal specimen.”

Atticus blinked at the venom in Virgil’s voice, but responded calmly,. “It was a tragedy. Heartbreaking, of course. But tragedy breeds emotion, and emotion is the lifeblood of your abilities.”

“We were only trying to use the fields to affect the brainwaves that hadn’t yet petered out,” Portia said, as if that excused it. “We shocked when we picked up a renewed heartbeat. But the brainwaves hadn’t changed. It was still brain-dead by any measure.”

“He.” Virgil’s voice was iron and blood as he spat out the correction.

Logan was paler than Virgil had ever seen him, even when he’d needed treatment for blood loss back in the earliest months of their heroing. “And you kept going? What happened to only experimenting on organ and science donors?”

Atticus smiled in confusion. “Lo, that was never the case. We didn’t perfect the EANSC with cadavers, we had villains to test with.”

“I’m sure they agreed to be lab rats, too,” Virgil accused.

Portia just shrugged. “Anyway, we kept the body in cryo except when running more tests. It still appeared to be brain-dead, right up until the day it- sorry, he,” she corrected exaggeratedly, ” He escaped. And started killing people.”

Logan looked ready to yell, his face yet, but he stopped and took a deep breath. “Are you familiar with his powers? Have you heard about what his memory of that time period is?”

“I’ve read the Index entry,” Portia replied blandly.

“He relived his entire life hundreds of times, and the accident at the foster homes thousands more,” Virgil said quietly, dangerously. “He saw everyone he loved die, then alive and loving him, then dying again. And when the memories were done replaying, new ones started being created. All emotionally charged, extremes of elation and sorrow and fury.”

Atticus looked at Virgil, eyes glinting with interest. “So you’re saying the prolonged exposure to the modified dampers actually created this power? Fascinating!”

“What the fuck, Dad?” Logan spat out. “This isn’t some mere curiosity! This is someone’s life. You destroyed the psyched of a real, living, breathing kid and all you care about is what it means for your fucking research grant?”

“Logan, there’s no need for such language,” Portia chided. Virgil shot a glare in her direction. She looked back, eyebrow arched. “It’s just research.”

“Research that you’re going to stop, correct?” Logan asked.

“When we’ve just gotten confirmation of the biggest breakthrough to date?” she asked incredulously. "We’ll take more precautions going forward, of course, but by no means will we stop. That would be illogical.”

Blood pounded in Virgil’s ears. “I’m sorry, what? You’re going to keep going? Hell fucking no.”

Portia narrowed her eyes. “Virgil, be serious here. This is too important to let a tantrum get in the way.”

“Oh, you want a tantrum?” Virgil rumbled. He stood, bracing himself in a fighting stance. “Let me show you what a tantrum looks like.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not going to fight you,” Portia scoffed, though she stood too. She looked over at her son. “Either of you.”

“So you agree to end the program then? Because it’s one or the other,” Virgil snapped. He tapped his watch decisively. “The mayor is hearing about this. Now or never, Professor Polarity . End this madness, or get ready to see your precious EANSCs up close and personal for the foreseeable future.”

Portia’s metal hair tie popped out of her bun, letting her hair fall free as the tie flew into the air beside her. She lifted her hand, and a metal apparatus flew from the back bench to her grip. “Don’t be stupid, Virgil. I’m immune to it. It’s an electro magnetic field. You, however, aren’t so lucky.” She flicked a switch on the machine, bringing it to life. The familiar glow of dampers show out the front.

“I’m sorry, Lo!” Virgil shouted, and dove at Atticus, easily manhandling him and trapping him, one arm around his neck. “Don’t try it, Portia. I don’t need powers to be able to cut off his air. You turn that on me, you won’t like what happens.”

“You see, Logan?” Portia said, not turning as she scowled at Virgil. “You see what happens? Virgil’s spent so much time with those villains that he’s resorting to their tactics. It’s a contagion. This is why they can’t be forgiven. What reformation can there be, when their lack of morals spreads so?”

Logan was frozen, eyes flicking between his boyfriend, who had his father caught in an uncomfortable chokehold, and his mother, who was pointing a weapon at his boyfriend.

“You don’t exactly have the moral high ground here,” Virgil growled at the former hero. “Unless torturing a child is considered a virtue now.”

“Use it, Porsh!” Atticus rasped around Virgil’s arm. His fingers scrabbled to get a grip, but Virgil’s muscles were unmovable. “He’s bluffing!”

“Am I?” Virgil asked. “You said it yourself, I’m clearly infected by the influence of my other boyfriends. Who knows what I’m capable of, now? I know you love your experiments, but you just might want to not put this particular hypothesis to the test.”

Portia sneered, her face managing to look lovely even when twisted in scorn. “Atticus, dear. I love you very much. I apologize in advance if the max setting hurt you, too.” She aimed the damper squarely at Virgil and hit the switch.

Except she didn’t. And her arms were tied behind her back with pure rope, nothing metal. And the damper was secured in a plastic bin at the corner of the lab. And Logan was standing between his mother and his boyfriend, chest heaving.

“Mom,” he said, voice breaking. “How- how could you? Why?”

“I’m a hero, Logan,” she replied, as steadily as someone who'd just been bound by a family member could be. “I serve the greater good. I thought I’d taught you that, but clearly I failed.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, my love,” Atticus interjected. Virgil had released his neck, though he kept his arms twisted up behind his back. “We both tried. It turns out he wasn’t as much a Lancaster as we’d hoped.”

“Shut up,” Virgil snapped. “I’m tired of your bile, both of you.” He turned to the window, seeing the reflection of flashing lights.

Logan had his back to them all. Virgil saw the quiver in his shoulders and knew he was crying and trying to hide it. He quickly grabbed a stray zip tie and secured Atticus by the wrists to the lab bench. Then he crossed to Logan and wrapped his arms around him.

He didn’t speak. He just let Logan turn and cling to him, face buried in his chest.

Let it out, love. I’ll keep the world at bay.

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

D.R.E.A.M. Index #265345 Classification: A.2.i [Secondary Tier Hero, Legacy] /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Do we update this? - Talyn /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Let’s archive this one. Save the legacy. We can record the truth in clearance for now. We can at least save Logan some heartache. - Joan Name: Professor Polarity Status: INACTIVE /////////Reason: Retired /////////[CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Reason: Jailed pending trial Civilian Name: [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] Portia Lancaster née Portia Price Affiliation: Hero ///////// H.A.T.C.H. Status: Blackout Only ///////// [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] H.A.T.C.H. Status: Inactive Partners/Sidekicks: DI#A-2305 - Forces of Nature Primary Foes: DI#265333 - The Mystic Magician; Powers: Magnetokinesis Costume: Jumpsuit patterned in red-and-blue rectangles; blue cape with Ampère model of a magnetic field; gold belt with a buckle in the shape of a horseshoe magnet Age: 54 Height: 5’6” Pronouns: She/Her H.E.A.R.T.S. Class of ‘82 Note: Mother of DI#337255 - Dr. Vectorious; Co-inventor of the Enhanced Ability Neutralization and Stasis Chamber (EANSC) now in use at City of Harmony Enhanced Ability Containment Center (CHEACC). [Hall of Fame notes archived]. ///////// [CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET] As architect of the covert Project Charcoal, she attempted to discover a ‘cure’ that would strip supers of their abilities. Involved in reviving and creating DI#337501, see IR19-Z-0001

~~~~~~~~

a/n: It’s been over a year since I started this story, which is insane. So much has happened since I woke up with an idea of “what if royality were villains.” Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and commenting and particularly for theorizing. I’ve been in love with this idea, and knowing that anyone liked it too gave me incentive to finish it.

One last epilogue coming up. I promised the boys a happier ending.

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iamrheaspeaks · 6 years ago

Text

per·i·pe��tei·a 2

Erik x OC! (Morrigan)

Word Count: 1.9k

Bold text: Erik

Regular text: Morrigan

Warnings: None

A/N: Idk why my crazy self just had to include DTG knowing I hate it but here’s a reminder DDHHMM(Z)MON meaning (day, 24 time, local, month). Here’s Part 1 if you need a refresher. As always lightly proofread/ edited 💋

The Beginning:

150847UMAR

Target: Morrigan James

28yo 61.23kg

Identifiable Marks:

•Raised lateral scar/ left shoulder above armpit

•Roman soldier’s uniform shoulder pad tattoo/ left shoulder cap

•Emperor’s Crown tattoo/ behind right ear

•Tiny cat silhouette tattoo/ inner right wrist

Occupation: Case Manager/ Human Services

Mission: Deep Cover Surveillance

Morrigan flies out of her apartment to a used Mitsubishi Galant. It’s black on black minus the silver tire rims and front grill. She’s supposed to report to work at 0930. Morrigan stops at the coffee shop five blocks up the road while I hang back outside. The windows of the coffee shop are large enough for me to see everything from inside the Standard Issue Saab Truck they gave me. When she finally emerges Morrigan is balancing 6 cups of coffee and large brown paper bag. After finally maneuvering everything into the car she finishes her trek to work. She’s definitely something.

March 15 9:35am

Target: Erik Stevens/ N’Jadaka Udaku

30yo 225lbs

Identifiable Marks:

Keloid scars/ Range unknown

Occupation: Special Ops / Deep Cover

Erik arrived in town late last night. Judging by the looks of it he’d spent most of the night staking out my apartment instead of sleeping. A man determined. Something told me when his file hit my desk that Laila wouldn’t be the right one for the job. She is lethal and a hard-ass however, Laila can’t control her switches when angry or cornered. She’d blow the mission in an instant and this has to be long term. Erik won’t open up if the trust isn’t there. Plus, judging by the way Laila keeps staring out the window I made the right decision sending him after me instead. It’s 9:45am when Erik finally pulls off down the street, no doubt headed to his cover job. ‘Have a good first day Professor Stevens.’

151936UMAR

Morrigan and two female coworkers are having drinks at a Mediterranean Wine Bar named Porto. It houses a lot of culture-based décor. Antique knick-knacks and brightly colored, hand-painted tiles could be seen all around. Not wanting to draw too much attention to myself it took awhile to scope out a good seat. The bartender serving the back of the house must’ve been new. She kept over pouring portions and confusing drinks. If it wasn’t for her being so personable I doubt anyone would come back to Taylor. I could see all the exits and most of the patrons from where I sat. Morrigan seems normal. Most of my surveillance of her so far just yielded information I already knew. Basic job, raised in a two-parent household, doesn’t appear to be living above her means. Definitely not a threat. ‘Why are you so important?’

March 15 7:40pm

Laila, Claire and I try not to let on that we see Erik keeping a watchful eye from across the bar. We discuss where best to take the residents on their day out after the weekly house meeting. Like most teens they liked the mall except Landon, he hated everything about the place and would often decline going all together. Which left one of us stuck at the residence with him watching the same bad comedy movies till our ears bled from the sound of his shrill laughter. Lately I didn’t mind because it gave me time to brush up on Erik before his arrival but one could only take so much.

Present:

071725UJUN | June 7 5:25pm

“I don’t know what you think you know bu–”

“Erik Stevens. Born in the ghettos of Oakland, CA. Mother died in prison and father murdered.” She paused noticing Erik’s demeanor shift slightly. If she didn’t have his attention before Morrigan certainly had it now. “Got bounced around after that but, for the most part stayed on the straight and narrow. Immediately shipping off to Basic Training in the Navy and later graduated M.I.T. with a PhD in Engineering. Am I right so far?

“All common knowledge baby girl.”

“You’re right, allow me to share with you what else I know. And I knew before I found your box. Good hiding place by the way.” Morrigan giggled at the last part. It may have been underneath the floorboards but the box was literally in plain sight. Undetected until just the right moment. “You’re the lost Prince of Wakanda. N’Jadaka Udaku. The abandoned child that wants to burn the village to feel its warmth.”

Erik’s jaw and fists tighten. It’s one thing to relinquish control, it’s another entirely to question if it was ever his to give. “But you forget, I know who you are too.”

“That’s where you’re wrong my love. You know what I needed you to know, let me properly introduce myself. Morrigan Ebert. Born in the small town of Cromwell, CT. I was raised by The Major, the only thing I know about my real parents is they died in a car wreck.”

“The Major? Nabs kids and turns em into Sleeper Soldiers right? What does The Major want with me?”

“Sleeper Soldier? That’s a first” Morrigan scoffed. “And nothing, he’s merely apart of my backstory.”

“You really tryin my patience.”

“Stop interrupting me and maybe you’d learn something!” Morrigan could tell Erik was surprised by her tone. Never having had that voice of authority used on him by her. “I thought this would be more fun but now I’m kinda bored. Look. Everything I told you is true. But maybe you’ll be more willing to believe it if I tell you my other name. The Djinn.”

Erik shifted in his seat after that. Either this chick was fucking crazy or she was who she said, which would mean that he’s been the one at a disadvantage. Erik was more comfortable believing the first one. He knew Morrigan. She’d look for her phone while she was talking on it. Climbed on the fucking counter tops to get shit from the top shelf. Morrigan coddles adult children for work. There’s no way this is the person he’d been secretly searching for. The person that could get Erik that much closer to his goal. How could he be sleeping with the likes of one of the most sought after, dark wish granters and not know it?! He sat in silence and waited for Morrigan to continue her monologue.

“Before you, the only person to know my identity as the Djinn was The Major. I don’t actually meet the people whose wishes I grant. It’s best if people don’t know who I am. But I knew as much as they fiend for the opportunity, none of my charges would truly be up to that task that was Erik Stevens. And I was right. That flash drive–” pausing to point at the piece of metal and plastic still plotted in the crevice of his jeans “holds all the details of your revenge. Your fantasy. And as much as I would love to help you overthrow the Wakandan government I don’t believe that’s what you deeply desire.”

“You really expect me to believe that shit? ANY of that shit? After you JUST told me you one of the kids Major made? That you had me from jump? Nah! Now I know you reaching. You don’t know shit about what I want!”

“First of all, I have no doubt that revenge is what you want. What I said was it’s not what you deeply desire. Those are the types of fantasies that I grant. Your confidence in the old ‘too good to be true’ mentality is what makes you a victim of it. Everything I just told you made me The Djinn. What better person than someone who was raised to be anyone and blend in everywhere? Or do you feel that because you know The Djinn’s track record that it couldn’t possibly have been orchestrated by the frail woman that curls up to your side in bed at night? Like I said before. Everyone has their weaknesses.”

Morrigan allowed Erik to sit there with his thoughts for a moment. She was analytical. And calculated in a completely different way than him. It wasn’t enough to know what a person’s next move was. Morrigan wanted to know why they did it. The root cause behind it. And if that was the case then what the hell had she gathered about him? If revenge wasn’t what Erik deeply desired then what was?

“I really can’t see ya little ass doing shit I’ve heard about the Djinn but putting that aside for a moment” sitting up placing elbows on knees he looked at Morrigan with piercing eyes, “Tell me. What is it that I deeply desire?”

Morrigan licked at her bottom lip while holding Erik’s gaze. “You want the same thing as every other black boy from the hood Erik. A way up and out of the pit. Just on grandeur scale because you know you were made to be more. However death and destruction has taken you as far as it can with that task. You just don’t see it yet. If you really want to expose the truth and prove your birthright you need to try a different approach. That is a wish I’d grant.”

“Mmhmm. So what you get out of this?”

“You in my bed of course. Although. I’d understand if you wanna sleep down here tonight.”

“No grand fantasy of your own you chasing after, Djinn?”

“I was the Djinn before you got your famous moniker. You don’t think the first wish I granted was my own?” Morrigan challenged with quirked eyebrow. “Despite what I said to you the first night I invited you in, I fell long before you showed up with that brooding face of yours.”

~ ~ ~

Morrigan was staring down into the most captivating pools of chocolate brown as they stared back up at her while she balanced on one foot. She wore a smile on her face thanks to the victory of taming the beast in her bedroom. Even if it were only for a moment. Morrigan ran her hand down her frame before breaking away at the hip of the leg that rested on his shoulder. Using her thumb to stroke his jawline tenderly before gripping Erik’s chin. Slowly rubbing her index finger over his Adam’s apple coaxing a groan of appreciation out of him as his nails dug into her thighs at the scent of her essence getting stronger.

~ ~ ~

“I would fall from grace just to touch your face.” Erik hummed silently under his breathe in time with the memory of that night. “Convince me. Prove to me that you’re the Djinn.”

“Alexis. Your Teacher’s Assistant. She’s one of mine.”

“The girl that damn near took me down running out my office when I shut the light off on her?”

“Her mom used to lock her in the closet for extended amounts of time to keep her from tainting her brother’s innocence. The older her brother got, the more intense her punishment.”

“Wait? The Closet Slaughter. That was you?! The Djinn isn’t even credited for that.”

“Yes, that was me. And it wasn’t done for credit.”

“I see...Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light.”

Morrigan couldn’t help but chuckle before correcting, “Actually Erik, in Corinthians, the devil wasn’t transformed into an angel of light. He was disguised as one. But thanks for the compliment.”

“Well as helpful as this encounter has been I’m still seeking vengeance baby girl.”

“Then leave. Find someone who has no problem serving up the vengeance and death you seek. Wishes are for the living.”

Tags: @savagesensitivity @cancerianprincess @another-imaginesblog @loosewindmill @bidibidibombaclaat @muse-of-mbaku @chaneajoyyy @itsangeludaku @eriknutinthispoosy @im5ftbutmythroat66 @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @fonville-designs @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @dabluestsky

#rheaspeaks #my work #my words #my writing #peripeteia #part 2 #erik x black oc #erik x morrigan #rheaspeaks masterlist

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