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darkmatilda · 2 hours ago

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𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer is more than aware throughout the entire workout under your watchful eye that his physical fitness isn’t exactly top-tier. but he gets more than a little embarrassed when it turns out you can run the same distance faster than him. In heels.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, sheeees baaaack, as per usual teasing each other, reader wearing heels, reader having small ankle injury oopsie.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: request

"Is it over already?"

Morgan turned his head toward him. Even with the dark sunglasses on his nose, the pity in his eyes was unmistakable.

"That was just the warm-up, Reid."

Penelope let out a sound of complete despair. Spencer said nothing, but his expression echoed hers—doubled it, even. Seriously, how many generations' worth of sin had culminated in them ending up in this situation? Under the blazing sun, on a running track, dressed in athletic gear that felt completely soaked with sweat—and all they had done so far were a few jumping jacks, leg swings, and squats.

The damn fitness test they had to pass.

Spencer braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He could’ve spent this afternoon in a much more productive way, and when that thought crossed his mind, he realized the slower he dragged his feet, the longer this torture would last. He nodded to himself in a weak attempt at motivation, a battle song rising in his mind.

"Let’s just get this over with," he said, feigning readiness.

Morgan didn’t even flinch. He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips like an executioner, and it seemed like a wicked smile was creeping onto his face.

“We still have to wait.”

Penelope adjusted her ponytail, frowning.

“Wait for what?”

“More like—wait for who.”

Spencer froze, feeling as if someone had just poured a bucket full of ice cubes under his red hoodie. His entire life flashed before his eyes as he began shaking his head in sheer panic.

“No, no, no. Morgan, you didn’t.”

His friend’s smile only deepened, which made him shake his head even harder. Today, he was about to be humiliated—humiliated by his terrible endurance, his lack of strength, and his complete absence of coordination. He had braced himself for it, knowing it would only be in front of Garcia and Morgan, who had seen him in even more awkward situations, like the time he’d kissed that actress in the pool while protecting her during a case.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the presence of a fourth person. One very specific person. Someone who thrived on his suffering and humiliation the way plants thrived on sunlight during photosynthesis.

It hit him that Morgan very much did. He let out a sound that could only be compared to a sob.

“That’s just plain mean, you know.”

“We’ve known each other for so long and you still haven’t built up immunity to meanness?” came a teasing voice from behind him that made him close his eyes for a moment.

“Oh gorgeous, are you joining us in this torment?” Penelope asked her, spreading her arms for a hug, then scolding herself. “No, not today, stinky sweaty little Penelope…”

The woman shot her an amused look. Spencer had just turned around to see her standing on the orange surface of the field, wearing an outfit that was entirely unfit for working out, mostly because of the high heels, which possibly offered a better leg workout than all the squats and lunges Morgan had them doing.

“No, I don’t have any test to pass. I just got a ticket to a certain comedy show and couldn’t resist,”

She was standing with her back to the sun, its glow reflecting off her hair and settling along the edges and curves of her body, creating a golden aura and Spencer thought it was deeply unfair that nature was acting like a stylist on her payroll. He shook his head, catching only half of what she said.

“What comedy show? Where?”

Garcia, who happened to be walking past him, nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “We are the comedy show, genius.”

Behind her, the woman raised her brows mockingly, fixing her gaze directly on him. Spencer pressed his lips into a tight, embarrassed line, muttering under his breath right.

"So, your presence here is actually unnecessary," he said after a moment.

"My presence here is a blessing to you all," she replied lightly, with total conviction written all over her face. So much so that he felt an inner urge to mimic her expression like an annoying child.

But he was stronger than that.

"I think you meant a haunting."

You could tell that in her slightly raised chin was a sharp, perfectly crafted comeback, ready to go, but the sound of a whistle cut in, effectively reminding them that the clock of the universe hadn't paused for their little standoff, but kept ticking forward, just like the world around them.

"You’ll have time to exchange pleasantries later. For now, three laps to start. Move," Morgan called out, fully in coach mode.

Spencer adjusted the red headband meant to keep his now-overgrown hair in place, away from the sweat dripping down his forehead. Their stamina was equally miserable—they ran at roughly the same pace. It might’ve been pleasant, even, if they could actually talk. But they couldn’t. Or rather, it was physically impossible with lungs ablaze and breath spiraling out of control.

They managed to complete the first lap, and Spencer’s gaze drifted toward the bleachers.

The two of them up there. A woman perched casually on one of the benches, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, her red high heels impossible to miss even from a distance. Next to her, not sitting but standing, was Derek—his sunglasses now tucked into the collar of his shirt—engaged in conversation and paying them little attention. He and Penelope exchanged a sly glance; from that moment on, they used his lack of focus as an opportunity to slow their pace to a lazy, almost turtle-like walk.

They still had to keep checking whether he was watching, so, like it or not, Reid had to keep glancing toward the stands. First, of course, not at Morgan—but the red heels inevitably drew his eyes, and eventually, his attention landed on the face of their owner. Her expression betrayed no particular interest, and he should’ve felt relieved because of that.

But he wasn’t sure he did. How masochistic was it of him to want her gaze and attention on him—even if both were laced with mockery and scrutiny?

At some point, he slowed his run, spotting Penelope sitting on the field, fanning herself with her hand. He came to a stop.

“Why did you stop? We were supposed to do three laps.”

“We did three laps. Ages ago. You, for some reason, ran two extra. I have no idea where your mind was. Maybe you got possessed by some kind of sports spirit?” she wondered, tapping her lower lip.

Spencer looked around in confusion.

“I… I ran… I ran two extra laps?” he repeated, in disbelief. But Garcia wasn’t lying, nor was she teasing him. He looked at her accusingly. “And you didn’t stop me?”

“Why would I? You were doing great!”

“You do realize that every extra minute I spend doing physical activity increases the probability of me causing myself irreversible harm, right? Theoretically…theoretically, that was like an attempted murder. By you. On me!”

“Wow, Reid, I have to admit. You really surprised me. In a good way,” Morgan said as he approached them, nodding at Spencer in approval.

Behind him came a pair of red high heels. Spencer straightened up a little and shrugged.

“Yeah, you know, I just needed two more to really, properly warm up.”

Penelope gave him a look from the floor, lips slightly parted, shaking her head and a ponytail as she muttered poser.

Morgan studied him closely, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “Great,” he said. “In that case, since you’re both warmed up, time for push-ups.”

Garcia let out a dramatic ughhh and collapsed onto her back on the court in protest. “Can I do them on my knees?”

“Sure, baby girl, if that makes it easier for you.”

Spencer gave a small smile of relief that such an option was allowed, and quickly joined her, dropping to his knees, arms wide, palms flat against the rough, orange surface. He didn’t even manage to lower his chest once before a red shoe nudged his hand.

“Your arms are too far apart.”

He looked up at her, squinting against the harsh sunlight framing her head. “Since when are you the coach?”

“Arms too wide, Reid,” came Morgan’s voice from behind.

She flashed him a fleeting, smug little smile, fully pleased with herself.

He ignored it and dropped his gaze back to the ground in front of him. He could definitely do at least ten. But before he managed even one…

“You’re not seriously going to do them on your knees,” the woman said, slowly and gracefully lowering herself into a crouch to better speak to him at eye level. Or perhaps just to give him a clearer view of the many subtle traces of smug triumph playing across her face. Her weight balanced perfectly on thin heels, knees tucked neatly together.

Spencer shook his head in confusion.

“Morgan said it was allowed.”

She raised her brows at him. “You ran two extra laps. Obviously, you're in perfect shape. So now you’ll do real push-ups.”

Change of plans. He could definitely do at least… two push-ups.

“You’re only being so mouthy because you’re not the one in workout gear,” he said, lowering his chest toward the floor and trying not to groan when he hit a major problem lifting himself back up.

Blood rushed to his cheeks. That was harder than expected. The pounding in his veins almost made him miss her scoff.

“I could run sixty meters faster than you even in heels,” she said with complete confidence.

Spencer laughed, his arms starting to shake. He barely managed one more wobbly push-up.

“Maybe in your self-centered, narcissistic dreams,” he snorted.

"What you call my self-centered, narcissistic dreams is just my reality, one you keep denying for some reason. Maybe it’s time we find out."

"Find out what?"

"Hey, Morgan!" she called out.

Derek, who was currently showing Garcia how to do a proper push-up, turned his head toward them and gave a silent what’s up nod.

"You’ll be our judge," she decided.

He eyed her skeptically. "You planning to run barefoot?"

"You can borrow my shoes!" Garcia offered brightly, but the woman just shook her head.

"Won’t be necessary. I’ve got this."

She rose smoothly from her crouch, fixing Spencer with a pointed look. He didn’t move at first, still half-convinced she had to be joking. But she looked entirely serious. And what’s more, confident she’d win. That struck him as both absurd and impossible, which, naturally, sparked his own competitive streak.

This was going to be an easy win.

"You're planning to bet with me on this, aren’t you?" Spencer guessed, walking with her to the starting line.

Derek jogged off to stand at the finish, ready to call who really won.

She shook her head.

"No, not this time. The look on your face when you lose will be reward enough."

He rolled his eyes. "In that case, good luck."

"Good luck, Reid. You’re gonna need it."

He was just about to roll his eyes again when the bell rang. Shit. He’d gotten distracted and started a second too late.

They ran neck and neck for a very short time. Long enough for him to already start losing hope. The rest of the sprint, all he could do was keep his eyes on her legs, fluid and fast, carrying her all the way.

In heels.

He was way too impressed to even feel defeated.

At the end of the track, Garcia bounced in place, clapping her hands, while Morgan shook his head side to side. Spencer could feel his pat on the back as he bent over his knees, gasping for air.

“Man, from now on, you're training with me even more often.”

Spencer tilted his head back, ready to refuse sharply, when he caught the woman's stare pinned on him, crushing. Crushing like those damn heels of hers. He pointed a finger at her, shaking his head side to side.

“Don’t even start. Not a word, please.”

She smiled with genuine amusement as she slipped off her red heels, standing barefoot on the court’s surface.

“Let me remind you. You agreed to this yourself. Damn, my shoes are full of pebbles—”

She bent down to shake them out, took a single barefoot step—or rather, just slightly adjusted her position—and her ankle twisted at an odd angle. A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips as she instinctively grabbed onto a startled Garcia standing right beside her.

“Oh my—oh my goodness, what…what happened?” Garcia asked in a panic.

The woman grimaced, shaking her head. “I must’ve stepped wrong.”

Morgan crouched down to examine her ankle, gently touching it—which made her hiss through her teeth in pain.

“Babygirl, go get some ice. Reid, I’m gonna need you.”

his voice was firm, and Spencer immediately appeared by the woman’s side so she could lean on his shoulder,at first hesitantly, then with real trust, as Penelope rushed off to find some ice. A moment of silence fell.

“I don’t think it’s sprained,” Derek said as he straightened up, “but you definitely need to rest it. Come on, let’s sit down. Garcia will be back with the ice in a second.”

Spencer thought he was going to take over supporting her, but she only gripped him tighter, clearly relying on him to help her walk. Hesitantly, he moved his hand to her waist, helping steady her limping steps toward the bleachers.

“How is it,” he began after a moment, a little uncertain, sneaking a sideways glance to gauge her reaction. She didn’t look thrilled. She could blow up at him for this. He was going to say it anyway. “That you managed to run half the court in heels, but one step on a flat surface barefoot took you down?”

He waited for her answer, but her face didn’t even twitch.

“Shut up,” she finally said.

The corners of Spencer’s mouth lifted into an innocent smile.

“Just asking.”

“Yeah. So shut up.”

#diva reader ♱#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal mind #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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darkmatilda · 6 hours ago

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yes I know the greek class is sick and fucked up, yes I know that they're menace to society, yes I know that it's wrong of them to kill that farmer & bunny and they're even more sick for trying to justify it. But I don't care, I LOVE those murderous rich kids.

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darkmatilda · 1 day ago

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who are you watching with the eye in your pfp

the eye is purely decorative and i am watching with a hidden camera in your house (sit up straight please)

#matilda's ask box #andy ࣪ ִֶָ☾.#matilda's yaps 🪐

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darkmatilda · 1 day ago

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cat vintage needlepoint mini skirts by kristin mallinson

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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three times a charm (maybe then you'll tell me your name)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: personally, you never really believed in the selflessness of human intentions. sure, altruism sounded great on paper, but in reality, you’d never met anyone who was instantly ready to make sacrifices. that is, until one completely boring day at work, when you ran into an unhinged group of people in costume— and one of them, who looked like a runaway from a mental asylum, ended up saving your life not once, not twice, but three times.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: female!reader x bob reynolds, reader wearing high heels, mention of reader's masked depression, strangers to strangers with benefits, but the benefits are taking bullets for each other, my pathetic attempts at capturing the thunderbolts dynamic

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.7k

𝐚/𝐧: its my first fic on this blog that's not criminal minds – i hope it finds its own audience!

THE CLICKING OF YOUR HEELS ECHOED THROUGH THE COMPLETELY EMPTY HALLWAY, and with each step, you kept wondering whether you were even allowed to be there.

Well, technically, you could be—you had an ID hanging from your neck with your face and name on it, but the thing was, it only granted access to very specific areas. As a low-level lab worker in The Vault, who had only been there for two days, you weren’t allowed to wander wherever you pleased. Everything was strictly laid out for you, and you were closely monitored. The information provided to you was also heavily filtered, but you didn’t complain about that. You followed the principle that you were just a small cog trying to make a living. The morality of the institution you worked for should be the concern of its CEO, not yours.

Anyway, after your first day at work, you popped an imaginary champagne bottle in your head, celebrating the fact that you hadn’t embarrassed yourself, humiliated yourself, or somehow blown up the entire building. On the second day, however, you quickly made up for it by leaving your phone there and only realizing it after you had already made it all the way back to your apartment. Okay, it wasn’t like you had literally leveled the institution to the ground, but still—a tragedy. You had nothing to scroll through while pretending to watch that damn boring dating reality show, which was really just a tool to drive away the silence that always filled your apartment.

With the expression and pace of a martyr, you returned to your workplace to retrieve it.

And almost immediately got lost.

You had never been there at that hour before, but you still expected to see more people around. Instead, the hallway you were walking down was massive, with gray metallic walls, painfully quiet and empty. You were starting to stress out.

“Fuck this phone already,” you muttered under your breath. There was a turn ahead, and you decided to go that way, since the one time you’d tried turning back, you’d completely lost track of your original path. You had no idea how it had happened, but you’d always been terrible with directions. Especially when said directions consisted of metal surfaces and there were no landmarks anywhere. “I just want to get out of here, someone’s gonna jump out from around the corner and start asking who I am…”

You sighed heavily and reached the corner from which a brown-haired man emerged—wearing… pajamas? His back was turned to you.

“Is she actually dead?” he asked chaotically, pointing at something in front of him and taking two steps backward, which only brought him closer to you.

You froze at the sight in front of you: three other people in strange costumes you didn’t even have time to properly examine—though you already had a feeling this wasn’t a friendly costume party. Either way, each of them was holding a weapon pointed at you. That is, at you and the guy in pajamas. If it really were a costume party, he would’ve lost—unless the category was haunted asylum patient. He turned toward you and screamed at the sight of you, a sound quickly drowned out by your own scream, then tied together with a ribbon in the form of a gunshot—that’s right, a gunshot fired in your direction.

Before you had a chance to show off your nonexistent, or rather, pitiful, reflexes, the guy in pajamas shouted something that sounded like watch out and pulled you to the ground.

Your consciousness briefly said adios and went surfing on waves of confusion—you lay motionless, having no idea what was happening. Well, you couldn’t really blame yourself. Someone had just shot at you, for who-the-fuck-knows what reason, the gunshot still flashing in your eyes, and your body was being crushed by a man in gray pajamas. His brown eyes wide open, yours wide open, your faces right in front of each other, it looked like you were playing some extreme version of who blinks first.

“Have you lost your mind, Walker?” a reprimanding shout rang out, laced with a thick Russian accent. “You can’t just shoot at people who simply walk through a door!”

“Who knows who sent her! Oh, shit—”

Yeah, oh shit. Right after that curse from the so-called Walker, the massive metal door behind you, the one you had just walked through, slammed shut with a loud bang.

“Sorry,” mumbled the guy above you, his brown hair falling down the back of his neck, with a few strands hanging across his face. He awkwardly pushed himself off of you or more like jumped, like the moment he realized he was lying on you was also the moment your body had turned into a heated induction stove. “You okay?”

You got to your feet uncertainly, which wasn’t exactly easy after that fall, especially in heels.

“I think so,” you replied, and when you looked up, you found that three weapons were once again aimed in your direction.

Pyjama-guy noticed too and flinched, throwing his hands up in front of him.

“No. Hi. Hey,” he began to panic, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. You realized you had been doing the same thing for a while now, your hands trembling under the intense stares of two women—one blonde, the other with dark hair—and a man in a blue costume. “I’m, I’m Bob.”

He said it in a tone that was both fearful and somehow casual. Hey, I see you’re all pointing guns at me. But I’m Bob. That explains everything, right?

You gave him a sideways, confused look. And you weren’t the only one.

“Who are you?”

“Bob. I told you! I’m, I’m—yeah. Bob.”

“Jesus Christ. Stop saying Bob,” interrupted the man in the blue suit in a frustrated tone and only then did you get a better look at him and recognize the new, infamous Captain America.

When your eyes landed on him, his immediately turned to you. “And who are you?”

A thousand answers raced through your brain. When someone who just shot at you asks who you are, are you supposed to give your full name and your mother’s maiden name, your name and surname, or just your first name and your high school nickname? Too hard!

Luckily, before you had to decide, the blonde Russian woman asked, “Who sent you?”Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer.

“Nobody!” Bob replied, his hands still raised in front of him. “Why would I be sent? Were you all—you were all sent?”

“Sent?” you repeated, shaking your head side to side. “Who sent me? I sent myself, ’cause I forgot my phone and then…then I got lost, and then he shot at me and—”

“So you work here? Then you must know what we’re all doing here!”

“No, I swear no! I’m telling you, I just got lost, I know it sounds sketchy, but it’s true, and I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing here, I’ve been working here for two days, I don’t even stick my nose out of the lab, but that’s not a reason to shoot at me—”

“No one’s shooting at you—”

“You shot at me! And if it weren’t for Bob, I’d probably have a brand-new hole between my eyes, oh, and even as I’m saying this, you’re all still aiming your weapons at me!” you shouted. You took in a deep breath and exhaled, trying to stay calm. “Right, maybe now would be a good time for all of you to lower those weapons, hm? We’re not armed.”

“Okay, I’m not sure what is happening here,” spoke up the woman in the hooded suit for the first time, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail. “But you’re all exhausting and my job is done—”

She moved forward, but the blonde immediately stepped in her way, aiming her weapon at her.

“But you see, my job is to keep an eye on you, so no, you’re not gonna go anywhere.”

“So you’re keeping an eye on her, huh?”

At the same moment, Walker aimed his weapon at the blonde.

You shifted nervously in place. All three assassins—as you’d decided to call them in your head—had turned all their aggression toward one another. No one was aiming at you anymore. You glanced sideways at Bob, but he was already gone. Sneaky bastard.

Your arms dropped to your sides, and while the three of them yelled behind your back, trying to figure out who was sent to kill whom and how it was all probably part of some larger conspiracy, you turned toward the door.

It was one of those doors without a handle or any visible mechanism, more like a metal gate.

You had no idea what to do, and out of desperation, you pressed your ID against its surface.

You couldn’t stay trapped in there with three armed assassins (and Bob), for god’s sake!

Your actions brought absolutely no result. You let out a frustrated groan, rested your forehead against the door’s surface, then turned around and slowly slid down its smooth metal with your back until you were sitting. You just sat there, waiting. Those people clearly had a vested interest in murdering each other, not you, so if you just minded your business, nothing should happen to you. And in the worst case, they’d put a bullet in your head, not flay you alive or something.

Could be worse, you thought with an indifferent exhale.

Oh, and now they were even laughing.

Well, two of the women, who you overheard being called Yelena and Ava, were mocking Walker, and even though you had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, your lips curled into a slight smile, because Walker just had the kind of face that was enjoyable to make fun of.

Another quiet laugh sounded from behind a stack of boxes.

From behind them emerged Bob’s bare feet, then Bob himself, with a square, nervous smile on his face.

“It was getting so tense in here…for a second,” he commented, though his voice cracked the moment Walker shot him a furious glare and took two steps toward him.

You winced, not liking the dynamic forming between them. A fully-armed super-soldier and a guy in pajamas. A wolf slowly approaching a sheep.

“I’m not leaving here without completing my mission,” Walker declared, taking another two steps forward. Bob took one step back behind the box and bonked his forehead against it—just like you had with the door earlier—wearing a face that screamed deep regret over ever speaking up. “Valentina gave me a clean slate guarantee and I’m not screwing that up.”

“Who asked, dude” you muttered under your breath, to no one but yourself.

“But this weirdo wasn’t part of the job, so I gotta know,” Walker continued, stepping even closer to Bob until he finally stopped. “How’d you get in?”

Bob shook his head side to side, genuine confusion on his face, almost apologetic.

“I don’t—I don’t remember.”

Still leaning against the wall, you tilted your head slightly. Obviously, no one had asked you that question—everyone had been a witness to your dramatic entrance—but how could someone be in here and have no idea why? You knew various experiments were carried out within these walls, but memory-erasing?

You stared at his face, deep in thought. For a fleeting moment, he returned your gaze, until Walker nodded.

“Terrific answer,” he said. Then turned to the rest. “All right. Tie ourselves up.”

“Wow. No. And goodbye,” muttered the dark-haired woman, Ava.

Without adding anything else, she turned toward the door, toward your side of the room. Her steps were quick and determined, and at some point, the hood and white mask dropped over her face on their own. It looked like she was about to run straight into the door, right next to you.

But then, she vanished into thin air…only to immediately reappear, slamming into the door with a pained groan.

A horrible, deafening sound filled the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yelena wince and cover her ears with both hands.You ducked your head between your knees, shielding yourself as best you could. Even after the noise stopped, it felt like the remnants of it stayed in your ears, rotting like forgotten garbage. Ouch.

“Woooah,” Bob murmured, turning back to you all with wide eyes. “You guys hear that?”

This guy, thanks to his cluelessness and general inability to grasp the reality around him, seemed to be slowly making his way up the career path toward becoming your spirit animal.

You stayed in your place as the assassins, with nothing better to do, started looting the dead body of the fourth one (the day had been too long for that to leave any impression on you), but then, after about ten minutes, the entire room lit up with red light and was filled with the sound of an alarm. Not as loud as before, but definitely not promising anything good.

From sitting, you moved to your knees and then pushed yourself to your feet. You had the feeling that the temperature of both the floor and the air had suddenly and dangerously risen.

“What the hell is that?” Walker shouted.

“That doesn’t sound like a shredder,” Ava said.

“It’s an incinerator,” you spoke up for the first time in a while. All eyes turned to you. It seemed they had collectively forgotten you were even there.

You shrugged. “Well, I haven’t worked here long, but I’ve managed to find out a thing or two.”

You didn’t need to prove your words in any way. The steadily rising temperature and your sweat-soaked heels were sticky, undeniable proof enough.

“Oh, boy. That is no way to go,” Bob muttered, glancing around at the red lights surrounding you.

“Well, how would you like to die today, Bob?” Walker hissed at him.

“Hey, don’t threaten him with death,” you snapped firmly. It kind of just slipped out.

A scoff.

“Because what? He saved you from getting shot?”

Bob scrunched up his nose, making a vaguely indefinable gesture with his hand. “I kind of ran into her and she kind of saved herself— I mean, it’s not like I regret it—”

“Exactly,” you cut him off completely, ignoring his words, staring at Walker and nodding once with solemnity. “Exactly that. It means my honor is intact. And I’m not even a soldier.”:

Walker was already opening his mouth—you could tell you’d hit a nerve—but Yelena’s sharp voice cut him off.

“Shut up. All of you. Hey, ghost lady.”

“Ava.”

“Sure. Whatever. Don’t care. We need to get you through the walls, so that you can open the door. Musimy spróbować shut down the sound barrier,” she laid out her plan.

You tapped your heel thoughtfully against the floor. “There’s gotta be an independent power source.”

Yelena locked eyes with you, gave you a small nod. “You’re useful for something, no name. Come on. Let’s go.”

Time was slipping through your fingers. Literally. Chaos took over the room as all of you scattered and began searching. The blinking red light marked every passing second like a ticking bomb.

At some point, Bob materialized behind you, probably hoping to anchor himself to something in all the chaos, and he’d chosen you.

“What are we even looking for?” he asked.

“We’re looking for not stupid questions, Bob,” Walker threw at him while brushing past.

“I think I found it!” Yelena suddenly shouted.

Walker and Ava rushed toward her. You considered doing the same—but your legs wouldn’t move. They found it, which meant they had to destroy it, which meant the door would open. The door.

You turned to Bob’s red-light-illuminated face and nodded for him to follow. “No time. Come on.”

Bob blinked at you in confusion, so you simply grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, ignoring his flustered WO-WOAH because if he really was just a civilian, you two were in the same boat. No super strength, no speed, just sticking together and watching each other’s backs.

And you had to make a run for the door before it even started to open.

By the time it did—barely, just in time—the heat was already skin-searing, his wrist slick with sweat in your hand. Even though you’d been the first to move, the others still somehow managed to outrun you both as you all burst into the corridor.

So when a fiery explosion erupted inside the room, it hit you like a wave, powerful and brutal. You gripped his hand tighter as your body was thrown forward, launched into the corridor amid smoke and debris. All you could register was the scream of pain that tore from your throat as you slammed into the wall opposite…

…and then everything went dark.

Everything went dark, and you felt nothing.

Fuck, that was your first thought. I died and ended up in the worst possible place, where I’ll be left alone in nothingness until I’m consumed by my own brain, thoughts, and lifelong regrets.

It took you a while to realize that this wasn’t your case. Sure, in the dark place you landed in, there was no burning on your skin, no ringing in your ears, no air filled with dust and rubble with every breath you took. But that didn’t mean you felt nothing.

There was ground beneath your feet—solid enough and…wait, sinking?

You looked down, managing to make out the faintest outline in the darkness around you. You were wearing your heels, which were sinking into the grassy surface beneath you. You cursed and kicked them off, planting your bare feet onto the grass, dry, but cold. You straightened up, scanning your surroundings.

It seemed like you were standing on a hill. A hill straight out of a Microsoft wallpaper, never-ending in any direction and just stretching, stretching endlessly across the horizon, mercilessly.

There was nothing in front of you.

Standing still and staring at that endless, dark hill, you felt something grow in your heart. Well, grow wasn’t quite the right word. To grow meant that something was being added, and what was spilling through your chest was a void—empty, like a black hole pulling everything inward. So yes, it was expanding, but at the same time, it was consuming you slowly, bite by bite, leaving ruin behind.

That hole in your heart became unbearable. It nearly cut off your breath completely.You gasped for air, almost choking on it. There was nothing in front of you, nowhere to go, and you were alone. You had counted on the stars.

Not only would they have shown you the way, lit it up, but they also would have kept you company, supported you—just been there.

But the sky was empty.

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut in pain. Not physical pain—you had been freed from that the moment you arrived in this place—but something still hurt. It felt like it hurt everywhere. You kept closing and opening your eyes, over and over again, silently begging to find yourself in a different, brighter place. Just a different place. But no matter how many times you did it, you were always in the same one.

Eventually, you lowered your head, maybe accepting that it wasn’t going to end. That’s when someone’s bare feet appeared in your line of sight. You frowned and lifted your head, one last time. In front of you stood a man with a pale face and curly brown hair, dressed in a torn gray pajama set.

He was staring at you with his eyes wide open, just like you were staring at him. But suddenly, the darkness around you changed into a completely different scene, everything was wiped away. Yet you were still looking at each other. Well, not standing, but lying down, with limbs stiff and aching from the fall. And with your hands clasped in a final, desperate grip just before the explosion rang out and you were sure you’d die.

You took a first painful breath and tried to say something, maybe joke about your luck, which was hard, when your mind was still filled with that precise vision of emptiness. But you didn’t have to think about it or choose the words. Before you could say anything, Bob’s lips pressed tighter together, his face stripped for a moment of that lost expression, unusually tense and focused—and then he practically tore his hand from your grip, pushing himself up onto his feet as fast as he could.

You blinked slowly, hoping the two worlds you were seeing would soon merge into one, and that you'd be able to follow his footsteps. For now, you felt too dazed, so you just rolled onto your back—until a hand in a black glove appeared above you.

"You alive, no name?" Ava asked, helping you up.

You accepted her help with a grateful look, standing on your feet a moment later and holding on to her hand for a second longer to steady yourself in your heels and not fall. When you bought them, you’d wrinkled your nose a little at the price, but maybe they were worth it, after all, they survived a fiery explosion…

"I think so," you repeated the same thing you’d said the first time you almost got hurt, accidentally or not, it didn’t matter, the fact remained that Bob had saved you. "And I’m not no name. Well, maybe to you I am, since I don’t have a criminal record, but in reality, I do have a name…" you reached for the lanyard of your ID badge hidden under your elegant blouse, but before you could pull it out, Walker’s sharp voice cut you off.

"Hey, Bobby!" he yelled.

Your and Ava’s gaze automatically turned toward him. The explosion had knocked the helmet off his head, revealing dark blond hair. He was staring at Bob, who stood about two meters in front of him, pacing in circles, deep in thought.

"Everybody’s got a reason for being here, even her, no matter how far-fetched his sounds," his gloved finger pointed at you without turning around, his gaze still fixed on the man in front of him. "Except this guy. You tell me how you got in here right goddamn now."

He was getting closer and closer to Bob with steps full of threat, and you rolled your eyes to the sky. It was so clear he had no memory, and any attempt to interrogate him, especially through fear and pressure, which he was already clearly under, was pointless. You all needed to focus on finding another way out, and by you all, you really meant yourself, because you had no idea what part of the building you were in.

Perhaps sensing the rising tension in the air, both you and the other women took a few steps forward. Meanwhile, Bob wasn’t looking at Walker, more like through him. His hair was even more of a mess after the explosion, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“I swear, man, I just woke up in this place,” he said, shaking his head side to side nervously. “One minute I was, you know, getting my blood drawn for this medical study, and the next I’m—I’m here. In my pyjamas. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Okay, then show me where you woke up!”

Bob pointed toward the room you had just run out of, his finger trembling. You could see the real confusion on his face. He didn’t understand the situation he was in, and yet he had to try to explain it logically just to stop everyone from suspecting him of…well, of what?

“In… in there—”

“Where everything’s on fire,” Walker scoffed. “That’s real convenient.”

“Oh, get off his back,” you rolled your eyes, standing behind Ava and Yelena. “You can see he doesn’t remember anything, and your yelling isn’t going to magically bring his memory back. It’s only going to give us all a headache—”

“And don’t even get me started on you,” he warned, turning to face your group. “Miss Oops, I just happened to be in the same room as you because I forgot my wallet...’”

“Phone.”

“That. Doesn’t. Matter! Are we supposed to believe you seriously don’t know anything, huh? Tell us who you are. Were you sent to check if we succeeded in wiping each other out?”

“I’m starting to regret that it didn’t happen, because my day would’ve been so much better if you all just killed each other—”

“So you’re admitting you know something?”

He took a step toward you, but Yelena blocked him by extending her arm.

“Relax, Walker,” she said. “That’s not what she said. It looks like they’re both just civilians.”

“If you’re civilians, you know too much. If you’re agents, you seriously suck at your job,” Walker concluded. “Either way I say, we throw them back into the fire—”

You opened your mouth to suggest maybe voting on who actually deserved to be thrown back out the window, but were interrupted by a quiet, low laugh. You looked at Bob, frowning. He looked like he was having the time of his life listening to Walker’s rant.

“Sorry. Look—” he started, but had to pause when another wave of laughter shook him. You folded your arms, wondering what the hell he found so funny. “You said you were Captain America?”

Walker’s face was cold, but clearly confused.

“Why are you laughing?”

Bob spread his arms slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. All of his smiles looked the same. Narrow and square, like even laughing caused him some kind of pain.

“Just ‘cause you’re an asshole, you know?”

You parted your lips, trying not to burst out laughing. The whole situation was slowly becoming more interesting than any dating reality show you’d watch alone in your apartment. For a moment, you even forgot about the danger—until Walker suddenly slammed Bob against the wall behind him, his forearm pressed against Bob’s throat. A short cry escaped your throat, Yelena and Ava moved toward the two men, and you followed them, more as moral support than someone actually in the physical condition to restrain anyone.

Well, you still wanted to do something, so when Yelena pushed Walker aside saying hold back your tiny dick you grabbed Bob by the sleeve of his pajamas and, ignoring his confused look, pulled him aside.

“W-where are we going?” he asked.

“We don’t really have that many options where to go,” you replied. “I’m just showing signs of civilian solidarity and keeping you from saying something dumb—though funny—and getting torn apart by that guy.”

“He was just like. Messing around. I guess.”

“No, I think you just hit his tiny, fragile ego. Oh, shit—”

You stopped short because your heel landed on a piece of rubble and your ankle wobbled dangerously. You let go of Bob’s sleeve and flailed your arms like a bird, luckily managing to keep your balance.

You two walked off to a somewhat secluded spot. The voices of the others could still be heard, but you didn’t even want to pay attention to what they were arguing about this time.

Bob lowered his gaze to your shoes.

“They don’t look very safe.”

“Well, their main function is to be pretty. Besides, I can’t take them off, I don’t want to be flying around barefoot—” you caught Bob’s eyes, glanced down at his feet, then looked back at his face. “I mean, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with flying around barefoot.”

He nodded, seemingly with a hint of amusement.

“It’s not like I chose this,” he replied.

That’s when you noticed his low, monotonous voice. It contrasted with his rather boyish, innocent appearance and dark, deep eyes, yet somehow suited them. You gave a small, uncertain smile, watching the tip of your shoe crush a piece of rubble in front of you, grinding it into dust.

“You work here,” Bob said after a moment. You looked up to see him studying your face, uncertain. When you met his eyes, he hesitated a little before finishing his sentence, but eventually managed to get it out. “You…you know anything about what happened to me?”

You saw a lot of anticipation in his eyes when your answer didn’t come, preceded by an apologetic shake of your head.

“No, sorry, I don't. Really, I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you anything, but…I’m sorry.”

Though his expression was tense, he nodded in understanding.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I mean. I’ve gotten used to not knowing anything.”

That lost look on his face somehow pricked at your chest. You tilted your head slightly, trying to sneak a bit of warmth into the look you gave him, but the moment it met his gaze, he looked away. You cleared your throat.

“Well, it’s not like you know nothing. You know your name is Bob, and that Walker is an asshole, and that…that’s enough to survive in our situation,” you said, causing a slow smile to stretch across his lips. “Besides, you’re okay?”

His eyelids twitched slightly, surprised by the question. He nodded, lowering his gaze again. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Fine. You?”

You hesitated for a moment because…despite its simplicity, it was a hard question. You were fine within the timeframe of your conversation, the past hour, the day? You gently bit your lip, shrugged, and for the third time that day, you said, “I think so,” then added with hesitation, “You know what, we need to stick together.”

His eyes moved back to your face, as if to make sure.

“Stick together?”

“Mhm. I mean, we’re kind of in the same boat here. You don’t know how you ended up here, and I don’t really know why I’m still here. We complete each other’s obliviousness.”

Bob’s eyes squinted with that same square smile, except this time it didn’t seem nervous—it was genuine.

“Yeah. I like that. I really like that.”

He fell silent for a moment, some expression passing across his face.

“There is one more thing I need to know. To survive in our situation, I mean.”

You raised your eyebrows with curiosity.

“What is it?”

“Your name.”

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise.

“I didn’t tell you my name?”

“You didn’t tell anyone your name.”

“Well, it’s—”

“Hey, you two,” Walker’s interrupting voice cut in, and both of you reluctantly turned your heads toward him. “We’re heading out.”

“When we get out of here, I’m killing you both,” groaned Walker. A stomp of his heavy boots against the wall. “You, Bob. And you, no name.”

“Hey, I get Bob, but why me?” you wailed, sweat dripping down your face as you tightened your grip on the shoulders of the people beside you. “It was his idea.”

“Yeah, but when we wanted to ignore him before he even said it out loud, you went, oh, let’s hear him out, maybe it’ll be something smart—” he mocked you in a high-pitched voice.

You regretted being turned away from him, with Bob and Ava on either side of you, unable to throw him a crushing glare.

“I don’t sound like that! And besides, I encouraged him to speak, but then we all agreed on this—sorry, Bob—fucking stupid idea. So the blame isn’t just on me!” you hissed. One more thing popped into your mind. “And I have a name. It’s—”

“Which one of you is wet?” Yelena asked with disgust.

“I—I run hot,” Bob stammered. “Sorry.”

Yeah, you could tell, with him under one arm. When you reached the massive tunnel stretching upward, none of you knew what to do for a moment. Of course you’d end up with a group of super-people, not a single one of whom could fly. Yep, luck was always your thing.

That’s when Bob presented his brilliant idea—suggesting that you all stand back-to-back and use the combined force of your legs to climb upward like some kind of tarantula. You honestly had no idea how that plan had been approved. You only knew one thing: you were exhausted, and the end of the tunnel was nowhere in sight.

“Someone’s got a weird, hard butt,” Walker said.

“That’s not my butt. It’s my suit,” Ava replied.

“Well, you need to get a new suit.”

“My shoes are down there!” you cried.

Climbing in those heels would’ve been impossible, which was why your bare feet were now pressing against the stone surface.

Bob shook his head, his face and neck red with effort.

“Those shoes were useless anyway.”

“They were. Pretty! Ugh—can we stop for a second?”

You felt like you couldn’t go on any longer. Surprisingly, they agreed to your request and paused for a moment. You let your head hang limp, breathing deeply and tuning out the argument happening behind your back—something about killing kids and typical assassin stuff.

Bob nudged you lightly with his elbow to get your attention.

“Hey, hang in there,” he said. A pause. You could almost see him frowning in your mind’s eye. “Hang in there’s not the best phrase for our current situation, is it?”

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head with your eyes still closed.

You had to readjust your grip under his elbow, tighten it, trying to find some sliver of comfort and hope that you all wouldn’t just fall and smash into the bottom. Well, that feeling didn’t come.

“Fuck. I always wanted to die before work. Not after!”

“Wh-what’s the difference?” Bob asked in confusion. “Either way, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but then those eight hours of torture kind of go to waste. Survive the whole day just to die at the end? Nope.”

“Wait, you know what—I think I get you—”

“Can you two please stop talking about dying?” Ava cut in. “We…we need to keep going. We’re almost—”

Spoiler: you were not almost there. Not even close. But hey, there weren’t many other options. You all kept climbing, step by painful step, curse after curse, drop of sweat after drop of sweat. And finally, after who knows how long, the end of the tunnel was just within reach of your raw, aching heads.

But then another problem arose.

“Ehhh, now what?” Yelena asked.

“I guess one of us should go…” Ava suggested hesitantly, already seeming to realize how impossible that would be.

Yelena snorted.

“Then the other four immediately fall!”

“Sorry,” Bob said desperately. “Sorry, yeah. I guess I didn’t…didn’t really think this far ahead.”

“Genius plan, Bobby!” Walker yelled.

“Always making things worse,” he whispered under his breath, something only you seemed to hear.

“Okay,” Walker said suddenly, sounding ready, just as Ava was swearing under her breath. “Hand me your baton. I can reach it.”

“What?!” Yelena shouted in protest. “No way! You’re just going to leave us!”

You agreed completely. Out of all of them, he was the last person you'd trust with your life.

Everyone started arguing at once about what the next move should be, but before anyone could reach any kind of conclusion, Bob suddenly shouted, “Cucumber! Cucumber! Cucumber!”

You leaned to try and catch sight of his face. Eyes shut tight, nose all scrunched up. The fuck?

“What the hell is happening?”

“Growing up, somebody told me you can stop a sneeze if you confuse your brain,” he explained frantically. “I always just yell cucumber.”

“You have a sneeze safeword?” you asked.

“Sort of! It’s just…it’s just that if I sneeze—”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. If he sneezed, you all fell.

“Cucumber!” you screamed, and the others echoed right behind you.

“All right, come on! Just give me this, got it—”

That was Walker, eagerly reaching behind Yelena’s back for her bar, ready to be the first one to climb out. It ruined your pitiful human structure — the whole group collapsed with a scream.

Yelena and Ava managed to brace themselves against the stone walls with the help of their suits and gear, but your clothes and Bob’s weren’t made for that.

In a split-second reaction, Yelena fired a rope that wrapped around Bob’s ankle — but you were lower. Much lower.

Dangling upside down, Bob caught you at the last possible moment, just by the fingertips, slick with sweat.

“I’m slipping!” you screamed in panic, staring into his wide, dark eyes.

He said nothing, only shut his eyes briefly with terror on his face and used his other hand to grab your wrist.

“No, you’re not,” he gritted out through effort, holding onto you tightly. “I’ve—I’ve got you, no, where are you going—”

The void stretched out beneath you once again.

This time, your heels didn’t sink into the grass on the hill, mostly because you weren’t wearing them. Bare feet on a cold surface, your head tilted up automatically. You already knew what you were going to see and what you were going to feel. In both cases — nothing.

Nothing, clawing its way into your chest and settling in like some obnoxious neighbor throwing parties every night, keeping you awake and flooding your apartment.

You pressed both palms against your eyes. Why were you here again? You thought it was over.

With a painful exhale, you opened your eyelids, head still tilted to the sky.But this time, the sky wasn’t entirely dark and empty.

One lonely star was shining.

You opened your eyes for real. Behind Bob’s face, Yelena’s head popped into view. She gave you a small nod.

“That was scary, no name. Are you okay now?” she asked.

From behind her shoulder — and Bob’s — Ava’s face appeared too, sending you… was that a worried look? But then her gaze suddenly locked onto something behind you.

“Walker.”

She and Yelena moved toward the man standing at the edge of the tunnel you’d all just climbed out of, leaving you momentarily alone with Bob.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with confusion.

“I don’t know what happened,” you admitted.

He nodded, like he agreed with you, but didn’t say anything.

“Be careful getting up.”

“It’s like I blacked out,” you went on, still not sitting up fully, just resting on your elbows.

Bob, who had been watching your face, swallowed and turned his gaze away.

“And suddenly I was in that strange place again. It happened before too, you know. When I touched you—”

“All right, let’s get out of here,” Yelena cut in, her tone commanding. Everyone followed her.

You glanced one last time at Bob, who waited until you were up before moving. You weren’t even sure you wanted to return to that topic. Maybe it was better to forget about those strange, stinging visions in your chest and definitely not scare anyone else with them.

Soon, you found yourselves in a room bathed in orange light, facing a set of closed, semi-transparent doors. Beyond them, armed units and military vehicles moved about. You swallowed nervously. Things were getting… dicey.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Walker began.

All eyes turned to him. Ava winced.

“You’re the boss now? Cute.”

“Well, yeah, it’s our only chance of getting out of here, so…”

“Okay, I think I might just surrender, probably,” Bob announced, glancing around at everyone. For a moment, he caught your gaze, and you thought of the ID badge hidden beneath your clothes.

Technically, you could walk out there and flash it at whoever you ran into. You might lose your job if they found out everything you'd done today, but it was highly unlikely they’d kill you. Either way, if you got out of this alive, you were probably going to resign anyway—you’d developed a real distaste for this whole facility. Still, you weren’t sure that stepping out wouldn’t get you shot on sight.

And then there was…everything else. It wasn’t like they really needed your help—you were probably just in the way. But you’d told Bob you should stick together, and you meant to stick to that.

Yelena and Walker had started arguing about who should be in charge, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“...rescued God knows how many hostages and shook the hands of two US presidents. What else? Hm. High school state football champs back-to-back-to-back. Go Bears.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. Yelena made a show of sighing, impressed.

“Wow. When I was five, I was on a peewee soccer team called the West Chesapeake Valley Thunderbolts, sponsored by Shane’s Tire Shop. We won zero games, and one time this girl, Mindy, did a poo at midfield. Anyone else got any pointless childhood stories to share?”

A moment of silence fell. Ava was the first to speak up.

“Grew up in a lab prison.”

“Meth-addicted sign twirling chicken,” Bob offered.

When you looked at him, he gave a little shrug. “It was a summer job.”

You nodded. “I was a pretty normal child. No offense, guys. I’m just…glad to get to know you better?”

Yelena began explaining the plan, which — like all great plans — involved splitting up. You and Bob were to stick close behind Yelena as you moved into the gray room with buttons lining the walls. You’d mostly been brought along because you had a decent grasp of mechanisms, and had even figured out a few from this building already. You took a deep breath and got to work.

“Maybe we should also have guns?” Bob asked Yelena behind your back.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“We’re gonna need to fight, right? So…?”

“I don’t fight,” you announced at once, knowing full well it wasn’t your area.

“Yeah, you don’t have to,” Yelena assured you, keeping her eyes on your movements. “I’ll fight. You two, behind me.”

“You know,” Bob said hesitantly, pressing one hand briefly to his eyes, “the medical trial was supposed to make me better. And…and I don’t know. I feel like maybe I could help.”

Your hand froze halfway to a button. You glanced at him, brow furrowed.

“You said you don’t remember anything,” you pointed out, watching his face closely.

Bob parted his lips, then closed them again, clearly dodging. Yelena nudged you with her elbow, signaling you to get back to work, and then disappeared for a moment down the hallway, saying she thought she heard something. She told Bob to stay and watch your back.

At last, in a raspy voice, he responded to what you’d said earlier.

“No, not much,” he began hesitantly. “I just remember they said it was for people who wanted to…to make something better of themselves.”

You wished you could focus on him completely. Biting your lower lip in thought, you said carefully, “I think I know what you mean. Besides…you know you can trust me.”

Silence fell. Your words must have caught him off guard. You swallowed.

“Can I?” he asked, just to be sure.

Well, from your perspective, yes. From his, not necessarily. You were an employee at the facility where he’d woken up with no memory, the same one that had most likely done something to him.

“I’d like you to feel like you could,” you answered honestly, glancing back at him over your shoulder. You paused there for a moment, a small smile playing on your lips. “Sticking together, remember?”

Bob offered a fleeting smile, though it felt more like a reflex than a genuine gesture. Once again, he rubbed his eyes with his hand, closing them tightly.

“Yeah… I’ve—I’ve always had these episodes, since I was a kid. There’s a high, and then there’s…there’s…”

“A big low,” you finished gently.

He looked into your eyes and nodded.

“Then my memory just goes blank. But this time... I feel like there’s...I don’t know, something bad happened. Or I did something bad.”

“Everyone here had done bad thing,” came Yelena’s voice, some kind of comfort in her rough-edged tone.

Bob parted his lips as if to say more, but just then you pulled the final lever and took a step back, watching the mechanism with anticipation, with hope. Nothing happened.

The swallow in your throat stalled, turning into a solid lump.

“Why… why did that not work?” Yelena asked, her eyes wide and locked onto yours.

You began frantically pressing buttons, shaking your head. “Come on…”

“Okay, change of plan,” Yelena decided quickly.

You didn’t want to give up, so she had to grab your arm and drag you along the dark corridor. Something sparked behind you, and Bob jumped in alarm. You all rushed forward in silence until you reached the spot where Walker was supposed to be—only to find him gone, and several soldiers unconscious on the floor.

You took a step back, accidentally stepping on Bob’s foot.

“Good thing you’re not wearing those nightmare shoes,” he muttered. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone,” Yelena hissed. “Every man for himself, right?”

You shook your head in disbelief, but didn’t get a chance to respond—because a flashlight beam hit you. Then another. Then several.

“Shit!” Yelena shouted, shoving you both out of the hallway just in time before the gas rounds reached you.

Your heart started pounding violently. There were far more soldiers than any of you could handle. At some point—without even noticing—you were all suddenly wearing black gas masks, and the first of the soldiers dropped to his knees, hit by Yelena.

“Move!” she shouted, pushing Boba against one of the walls, taking on the full brunt of the attackers herself. She yanked a weapon from one of them and shoved it into your hands.

You looked down at it through your mask, eyes wide like it had just fallen from outer space.

“Do you know how to use that?”

“No!”

“Then you’ve got very limited time to learn. There!”

She ducked, and you, having absolutely no idea what you were doing, trusted your instincts and shot the guy coming up behind her. Whoa.

“We might just turn you into a warrior yet, no-name. Here, Bob.”

Now he was armed too. He aimed... and shot a soldier in the foot. You followed up, landing a perfect shot to the head. Oh, shit.

“What the—” Bob started, eyes wide as he looked at you.

You shook your head. You had no idea how you’d managed to hit that precisely.

“No idea! I just really don’t want to get shot! Watch out!”

The two of you aimed at a man who jumped out at you from around the corner—

but your bullets bounced off his…shield?

“No! Stop! Stop shooting!” yelled a voice that sounded…strangely familiar? “Stop! Stop! It’s me, it’s John! Stop!”

You lowered your weapon, mumbling oopsie under your breath.

Yelena shoved past you and Boba, aiming a furious finger at Walker. “Where were you?!”

“Where were you?!”

“The explosion fried the wires.”

“I told you, too many variables. I knew it—”

“What’s going on in there? Do we need to go lethal?” came a voice from the earpiece of one of the fallen soldiers.

All of you went silent. John swallowed hard.

“Okay. We probably got about 60 seconds until they mobilize. If the ghost lady actually did what she was supposed to, maybe we’ll all get out of here alive.”

You collectively decided to ignore his maybe. What you had to do was, in theory, simple. You stripped the soldiers of their uniforms so you could blend in and leave The Vault without raising too much suspicion. For the first time, you had shoes on—and a flicker of hesitation in your mind. You really didn’t have to do this, but…you had shot a man. If that didn’t make you part of this group, you didn’t know what did.

To avoid suspicion while moving in a tight group, Bob pretended to be injured, and the rest of you carried him. Outside, it had long since grown dark, and soldiers were milling about.

“Hey! Get in,” a voice called behind you.

You turned to see Ava behind the wheel of a stolen truck. You almost clasped your hands in grateful prayer.

There were only three seats in the front. You sat right on the edge, Ava in the middle, Walker at the wheel. Yelena and Bob ended up separated from you in the back of the vehicle. Before parting, you briefly caught his arm, maybe still thinking about the conversation you’d had earlier. “You okay, Bob?”

He pulled off his mask, his longer hair falling into his face. He shook his head side to side to clear it. “Yeah,” he muttered with a nod. “You, no name?”

Your lips pressed into a line, a fleeting half-smile. “I think so,” you repeated, the usual answer. “And also, it’s—”

“Get in! No time!”

You rolled your eyes skyward. Why was it that every time you tried to say your name, someone—ahem, ahem, Walker—had to cut in? You sighed, patted Bob on the back as you left, and jumped into the front, slamming the truck door shut.

You drove toward the exit gate—and of course, it would’ve been far too easy if you hadn’t been stopped for inspection.

“Shit,” Walker muttered. “All right. Just let me do the talking, okay?”

Ava sighed heavily but agreed, pulling her mask back on. A moment later, the space between you where she'd been sitting was empty as Walker leaned toward the driver-side window. One of the guards approached.

“Identify yourself, soldiers,” he demanded.

“Part of the medical team,” Walker replied with forced confidence. “Need to get the wounded to the hospital.”

“Identify yourself,” the soldier repeated, unmoved.

You pressed your lips into a tight line and, acting on a surge of desperate hope, reached for your ID. You flashed it quickly—just enough to show the insignia, not the details. Internally, you begged that it would be enough, a bead of sweat rolling down your forehead.

To your surprise, the soldier nodded, starting to step back until another figure appeared behind him, eyeing you suspiciously.

“You. Show that again.”

Your head shook instinctively in panic.

“We have wounded! We need to move. Go!” you hissed at Walker.

“Out of the vehicle,” the second soldier snapped, pointing directly at you.

Your mouth dropped open.

“But…I—”

The door beside you was yanked open. You were pulled out of the truck and shoved face-first onto the hood. You could hear Walker muttering a low “shit” under his breath. They snatched your ID, and one of the soldiers began to chuckle as he inspected it, clearly realizing something wasn’t right.

But before he could say a word, he dropped like a rock. Standing where he’d been a second ago was Yelena, breathing hard but deadly precise. One clean strike had brought him down. You shot her a grateful smile, but there was no time for thanks.

More soldiers were rushing toward you. You instinctively raised your weapon—

Then came the gunfire.

Behind you.

You turned to see a figure in hospital scrubs and bare feet, wielding a rifle and charging toward the guards, firing into the air and drawing every eye.

“Hey!” Bob shouted. “Over here!”

In a flash, the soldiers redirected, tearing off in his direction. You made a move to follow, panic flooding your chest, but Yelena caught your wrist, stopping you.

You struggled once, but then froze, unable to move as you saw Bob alone, surrounded by dozens of guns aimed at him. Somehow, it didn’t quite register what he was trying to do. You turned to Walker behind the wheel.

“Wait for him.”

Then Yelena literally threw you into the truck, pointing forward behind you and slamming the door shut.

“No!” you screamed. “We can’t just—”

Your words caught as the sound of gunfire erupted behind you. Walker slammed his foot on the gas and sped forward, and you stood frozen until the noise faded, leaving a hollow, ringing silence filling your mind.

“What—” you gasped, your voice breaking. You shook your head from side to side, refusing. “What did he do?”

No one answered. The car drove on through the night. Walker’s eyes looked empty, fixed on the road ahead.

“He saved our asses,” he finally said. You turned your head toward him, and your eyes met. “For you, that’s the third time, if I’m counting right.”

You froze, motionless, for a long moment. Walker kept looking at you for a while before turning his gaze back to the steering wheel. Neither of you spoke.

You just went back there for your phone.

#last one i promise

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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richard papen is for people who never felt like they belong anywhere or with anyone, for people who keep secrets to themselves because they have no one to tell, for people who are always deep in their thoughts, for people who always feel like there's something inherently wrong with them.

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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you having a pet called malfred (doesn't even matter what type of pet) sounds so right for some reason

lmao im not gonna question what that means but thank u....? 😭 malfred having an aunt named matilda also just feels right for some reason

#matilda's ask box #matilda's yaps 🪐

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darkmatilda · 2 days ago

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Have you ever had a pet with a “human” name?

#do we consider Malfred a human name

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