#[ those city lights shining like the stars ] metropolis

[doyouhatetheglasses]

tag drop

[anicaaa67]

oneshot🤍💥

The city skyline stretched out before you, a dazzling array of lights that danced against the night sky like stars brought down to earth. You stood atop a skyscraper, the wind whipping through your hair as you surveyed the bustling metropolis below. This was your domain, your kingdom as a pro hero, and yet, as you looked out over the city, your thoughts drifted back to a simpler time.It had been years since you walked the halls of UA High School, since you trained alongside your classmates in Class 1-A, each day filled with laughter, tears, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow. And now, as you stood on the precipice of adulthood, a pro hero in your it right, you couldn't help but feel a tug of nostalgia for those days gone by.Beside you stood Bakugo Katsuki, yyqour longtime friend and partner in heroics. His crimson eyes gleamed with a fierce determination, his explosive quirk crackling with raw power. Together, you had faced countless challenges, fought against villains both petty and powerful, and emerged victorious time and time again.But tonight was different. Tonight, you were not heroes. Tonight, you were simply former students, returning to UA for a Class 1-A reunion, to reminisce about the past and celebrate the bonds that had forged you into the heroes you had become.As you made your way through the familiar halls of UA, memories flooded back with each step, the laughter and camaraderie of your classmates echoing in your ears. You passed by the classroom where you had spent countless hours training under the watchful eye of your teachers, the walls adorned with photographs and mementos of days gone by.And then, finally, you reached the gymnasium, where the reunion was in full swing. The room was alive with energy, the air thick with laughter and conversation as former classmates greeted one another with hugs and smiles.You and Bakugo made your way through the crowd, exchanging greetings with old friends and classmates as you went. Kirishima bounded over to you, his trademark grin splitting his face in two. "Hey, guys!" he exclaimed, clapping you both on the back. "Long time no see!"Denki followed close behind, his electric personality lighting up the room as he launched into a story about his latest heroics. "You won't believe the villain I took down last week," he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.Mina and Sero were deep in conversation nearby, reminiscing about their time in class together. "Remember the time we all went to that amusement park?" Mina laughed, her pink hair bouncing with each step. "That was the best day ever!"And then there was Deku, standing off to the side with a shy smile on his face. You felt a pang of nostalgia as you looked at him, remembering the countless training sessions and battles you had fought together. "It's good to see you, Deku," you said warmly, stepping forward to embrace him.Deku returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's good to see you too," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you guys."As the night wore on and the laughter faded into quiet reminiscence, you found yourselves standing alone in a quiet corner of the gym, the rest of the world fading away as you were lost in each other's eyes."Can you believe it's been so long?" you whispered, the words barely more than a breath against the silence.Bakugo looked at you, his gaze softening with a warmth that was reserved for only you. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of conversation. "But some things never change."You smiled, reaching out to take his hand in yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Like us," you said softly, your heart swelling with emotion. "No matter where life takes us, we'll always be there for each other."And as you stood there, hand in hand, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the promise of the future, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had each other and your Class 1-A friends, there was nothing you couldn't overcome.

[denimbex1986]

'Valentine’s Day has come and gone – and I’m willing to bet plenty of dinner-and-a-movie evenings were had here. Kinepolis offered some pretty standard fare, while Cinénmathèque screened some classics. But one recent release, All of Us Strangers, is a different sort of romance.

I sympathise with those who may have accidentally seen it on the most romantic day of the year – especially if they forgot to bring a box of tissues to this ghostly, eminently atmospheric story of loss.

Two of the British Isles’ brightest shining stars, Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal, feature here as sad-faced lovers who found each other in a hopeless place. Both have delivered stellar performances in recent years; Mescal’s role as a young, single father in Aftersun raked in the accolades, while Scott’s still-running one-man-show Vanya demonstrates his multifaceted talent.

For the two, each a powerful performer in his own right, to come together like this seems only logical. Based on the 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada, it follows a lonely screenwriter named Adam (Scott) as he develops an intimate relationship with the only other tenant in his vast apartment complex, Harry (Mescal).

The two co-exist in a sort of urban limbo state. London might be this sprawling metropolis, and the 21st century might be one of endemic interconnection. But both are going through a lived experience familiar to many: wasting away in their flats, they spend their days working, watching TV, and drinking on their own.

It’s an atmosphere that immediately feels pertinent. Harry drunkenly knocks on Adam’s door one night – a move motivated by booze and loneliness – but Adam raises his psychic walls and blows him off. Adam, once again gripped by loneliness, visits his childhood home. But instead of finding it empty or occupied by new tenants, he’s met by his deceased parents, seemingly as they were some 30 years ago.

All of Us Strangers, through and through, is an exercise in hazy, hallucinatory atmosphere that should send shivers down your spine but doesn’t. Adam’s day-to-day world is isolated and pensive and existential – but as we so often do, he never allows himself to properly linger on these facts, preferring to simply sleepwalk through life.

But underneath his life of city lights and writing and late night TV, memories of his parents suddenly take corporeal form. Just as with his day-to-day, his encountering his dead parents doesn’t shake him, either, doesn’t suddenly wake him from his lived dream state.

The wonderfully executed atmosphere, in other words, isn’t only manifest in lighting and indirect perspectives, but in Scott’s careful, deliberately understated performance. He doesn’t question the seemingly unreal aspects of his life; he just goes with it.

Harry’s entrance into Adam’s hypnagogic world thus seems a little bit too real. Mescal complements Scott’s performance in this respect; where Scott is bleary-eyed and just a little sullen, Mescal betrays a similar loneliness beneath his nevertheless natural charm.

But Adam’s unreality starts to unwind as his visits to his dead parents and blossoming relationship with Harry become metaphysically mixed up. He routinely blacks out and wakes up either next to his lover or in his deceased parents’ bed. When he tries to connect his living and dead loved ones, his mental state unwinds, too.

In the process, you can feel All of Us Strangers really winding up the final gut punches like Popeye after a can of spinach. It’s a blissful, half-awake state that can’t last; the narrative is setting you up for tragedy. The first of the film’s twin tyings of the bow is all-too predictable; the latter, all the more heart wrenching, feels like being kicked while you’re already down.

It’s not that All of Us Strangers is bleak or depressing or dreary. Rather, it’s a fresh look at how life can simply pass by; how things happen, then pass, and finally fade into the background. Carried entirely by Scott and Mescal – who’ve seemingly mastered the art of hiding pain behind grins – the prevailing mode is atmosphere as diagnosis.

Loneliness in the age of megacities and social media can be tricky to fully articulate. But All of Us Strangers, more like a sleepwalk on a hazy Sunday afternoon, highlights how despite the world’s interconnectivity, we’re just as liable to end up rotting away in some flat sooner or later. In All of Us Strangers, this point is made quite explicitly.

Further, and perhaps more broadly, it’s a beacon of the current wave of British and Irish film that are diagnostic in tone and theatrical in execution. All of Us Strangers could well have been a play on the West End (although Scott’s Vanya is still selling a lot of seats) and as such fits right in with films like Aftersun and Banshees of Inisherin and Saltburn – all poignant and tragic and dramaturgical in their own way.

So unless you’ve had a really great Valentine’s, seen the perfect movie and shared a lovely dinner, do go into this one prepared. It’ll hit you with the classic one-two gut punch that’ll leave you reeling long after.'

[astrologermanjunath]

Unveiling the Mysteries of the Future: Astrologer Yuvaraj, the Best Palm Reader in Florida

In the vibrant city of Florida,US nestled amidst the serene landscapes and bustling metropolis, seekers of ancient wisdom and cosmic insights turn to the renowned Astrologer Yuvaraj. His mastery in the mystical art of palmistry has garnered him a reputation as the best palm reader in the region. With an exceptional blend of intuition, knowledge, and compassion, Astrologer Yuvaraj has guided countless individuals on their journeys of self-discovery, providing clarity and direction in uncertain times. In this blog, we delve into the reasons why he is regarded as a guiding light for those seeking answers from the stars.

 The Essence of Palmistry

 Palmistry, an ancient divination practice, traces its roots back to the Vedic times and has since been celebrated as an art form that reveals the unique intricacies of an individual's life. Each line, mount, and mark on the palm holds valuable information about one's personality, past experiences, and potential future. Astrologer Yuvaraj possesses a profound understanding of this esoteric discipline, allowing him to decipher the language of the palm with extraordinary precision.

 Astrologer Yuvaraj's Expertise

 What sets Astrologer Yuvaraj apart from the rest is his extensive knowledge and decades of experience in the field of palmistry. His journey as a palm reader began at a young age when he discovered an innate connection with the esoteric world. Through relentless study and dedication, he honed his skills under the guidance of esteemed mentors and sought-after palm readers worldwide. This arduous quest for knowledge granted him an exceptional level of mastery that has captivated even the most skeptical of clients.

 A Caring and Empathetic Approach

 Beyond his profound expertise, Astrologer Yuvaraj is revered for his warm and empathetic demeanor. He understands that seeking guidance from the stars can be an emotionally charged experience, and he treats each individual with genuine care and respect. His approach ability and open-mindedness create a safe space for clients to explore their innermost thoughts and emotions, fostering a deep sense of trust and rapport.

 The Power of Empowerment

 Astrologer Yuvaraj firmly believes in the power of self-empowerment. Instead of merely predicting future events, he aims to equip his clients with the tools to make informed decisions and create their destinies. Through his enlightening readings, he unveils the potential hidden within each person's unique palm patterns, encouraging them to take charge of their lives with newfound clarity and purpose.

 A Legacy of Gratitude

 The testimonies of satisfied clients stand as a testament to Astrologer Yuvaraj's profound impact on their lives. Countless individuals have attested to the positive changes they experienced after seeking guidance from the best palm reader in Perth. His insightful readings have inspired people to overcome obstacles, embrace opportunities, and embark on transformative journeys of self-discovery.

 Conclusion

 In a world filled with uncertainties, Astrologer Yuvaraj shines as a beacon of ancient wisdom, guiding souls towards self-awareness and empowerment. His extraordinary mastery of palmistry, combined with his empathetic approach, has earned him the title of the best palm reader in Perth. For those seeking to unravel the mysteries of their lives and chart a course towards a brighter future, a session with Astrologer Yuvaraj is an experience like no other, as he unveils the secrets written in the palms, unlocking the true potential of every seeker. You can also get rid of relationship disputes by the help of astrologer Yuvaraj.

[kabbal]

Sorry Kabbal, but can i ask for jaydick headcanons today? I hope this does not bother you, but I would like headcanons about the boys running away to live in peace🌠

Hiya! It does not bother me to get headcanons ask at all ! I tend to answer those who inspire me, so if I didn't respond to one request or another, don't worry about sending a more of it my way!

Now onto the prompt :

"I'm tired." Jason says. Dick has his head on his shoulder and he wants to say me too but the words are too heavy on his tongue. Jason is no idiot : he knows. That's why he says through gritted teeth : "Let's get the fuck out of here."

And the thing is : Jason doesn't hate Gotham. He loves it. Because under all the grime and shit and leakings, there's a core, a heart, something worth protecting. There are kids playing on the sidewalk and art on the streets' walls and ladies gossiping at their windows and couples making out under the dim streetlight. Jason would die and kill to protect these flickers of light in the shadows of dark alleys and towering skyscrapers.

But sometimes loving something is not enough. Sometimes you have to get away for a while, to peel off the oily dust this city exhudes with every breath, to forget for a while, and then remember all the better why you always come back here.

So they leave. They take one of the non bat-themed cars in the garage, pack light, say their goodbyes, and drive away. They haven't decided on a destination, but the interstate seems like a good point to start.

They pass Blüdhaven and end up near Metropolis, with its glass towers and pristine streets shining in the distance. Jon Kent gives them a wave as he flies above their car and Dick honks at him in response. Jason takes away his driving priviledges for the rest of the day. "Damn, who raised you, Dickhead ?"

They find a road to the ocean and Dick finds them a nice place for the night, secluded with a trail going down to the beach. The sea licks their feet as they kiss in the water. It's not dark yet, so they eat sandwiches on a big rock facing the Atlantic Ocean. They kiss and kiss and kiss, hungry leaning on desperate, like they're worried they could forget how to make the other moan and shiver. In the end, they have to change location : rocks are hardly a place to get it going. Dick tastes salt on Jason's skin and imagines it's Gotham's grime he's licking away.

They think about going south, but then Dick suggests driving up to Central City, then West, to the Coast, San Fran and Star City. Jason takes the wheel and lets Dick sing along to the utter trash that is the top-charts on the radio. They leave the ocean and its salty air. As they pass the Appalachians, Dick says : "We went skiing there, once. Do you remember ?" Of course Jason remembers. He was fourteen with a crush the size of the Wayne Tower. "Do you want to stop there ? Go skiing ?" he asks. Dick sighs : "That's not the right time of the year for that." "Doesn't matter."

The ski resorts are closed but they find a woodcabin with hiking trails going up the mountains. None of them packed hiking gear so they take it easy. Jason's phone almost gets stolen by a raccon when they're trying to get a photo of them kissing in front of the scenery. Dick now has a video of him chasing the damn animal around and Jason can feel the impending blackmail coming.

When they reach Central City, Jason has sworn off the countryside forever. They visit the Flash Museum and Dick redecorates the car's interior with thunderbolt-themed stickers from the giftshop. As they're leaving to visit Wally in Keystone City, Gorilla Grodd decides to wreck havock in the city center. "Is it me or does it feel weird not to intervene ?" says Dick as they're watching Barry deal with the situation. "Not our circus, not our monkey." answers Jason while sipping on his milkshake.

Everytime they see each other, Dick feels like he doesn't see Wally nearly as often as he should. Even for speedsters, his kids seem to grow so fast. He spoils them rotten with ice-cream when they all go to see a baseball game together and Jason fools no one when he wipes "something" at the corner of Dick's lips. Jai and Iris make offended noises. Linda and Wally holler. The Keystone Salamanders win the match.

It takes them some time to get to Star City, because they stop, again, in a beach house to enjoy some alone time. They are laying on a blanket on the sand at night when Dick says : "I think this is the closest I got to a holiday since that time where Kori took me on a date on this tropical planet." and Jason frowns : "Normally I would be offended that you'd bring up your ex when we're cuddling under the stars, but what the fuck, your thing with Kori was like, centuries ago. That's just sad." "I'm just trying to say... I appreciate it. What we're doing." "I mean, it's no tropical planet." "Oh, shut up. It's nice. Cuddle me more."

One morning they find Roy raiding their fridge and Kori floating above the kitchen island. "Well, at least we won't have to drive to the city. Stop eating my pringles !" says Jason. They spend the afternoon on the beach, playing volley-ball with no real rules, and then they do get into the city to find a bar where they all get spectacularly drunk. By the end of the night, Jason is redder than his helmet, Roy has persuaded Kori to carry him and Dick is trying to get glitter in everyone's hair. The four of them sprawl on the now-too small bed and Jason falls asleep to the sound of Dick's heartbeat against his cheek.

San Francico is so hot Dick is expecting the Titans Tower to melt any second now. They visit Alcatraz and Jason insists it's still a better place than Arkham. The tour guide - a Gothamite native - agrees with him. They have lunch with the Titans then walk around the city, until the night fall and the streetlight flows. For just a moment, they're just a couple like any other, holding hands in the street like the fate of the world hasn't weighted on their shoulders since they were children.

"If you could be normal. Would you want it ?" "What even is normal?" "Normal. A civilian. Someone who knows death only from the news or maybe their great-granny's funeral." "Does normal include you and the others being there?" "Your choice. Would that normal be something you'd want?" "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. It's all too hypothetical." "I guess it is." "For the record, the current normal is pretty okay." "Only okay ?" "Kiss me and maybe it will go from okay to good." "I'll give you excellent."

"I think it's time to go back home." Jason says. Dick nods, and starts the car.

[mykingdomforapen]

Xu Wenwu/Ying Li ficlet

When an immortal falls in love with a mortal, heaven rebels. Practically speaking.

This was the story of Niulang and Zhinü, the lowly cowherd and the Jade Emperor’s daughter. She loved her mortal husband too much to return to heaven, and the celestials would have none of that.

Come home, Princess, they urged her, dressing threats in saccharine concern. Come back to where you belong.

Zhinü, the immortal princess, the weaver of sunsets and storms, looked up to the expanse of heaven overhead in its golds and greens. She looked to the earth, her husband’s cottage with the thatched roof that he bound together to keep the rain from falling on her head, and the family of cows that they milked and named together.

No, she said to her father and her people. This is my home. I have made it with him, with my hands upon his, and it is mine.

The celestials snatched her from earth, and Niulang raced to heaven to reach her. With her comb, the Queen of the West created a river of stars to separate them for eternity, borning the Milky Way. Not even light could reach the other side.

The lovers were left heartbroken and shipwrecked on distant stars, except for the seventh day of the seventh month when magpies formed a bridge with their wings across the unreachable universe for Niulang and Zhinü to reunite. When it came to the plight of star-crossed lovers, it was only ever the mortal world that showed compassion.

-

Xu Wenwu has seen the rise of nations and the death of legends, but never the birth of stars.

For all his thousands of years, the Milky Way faithfully arched overhead in silver and purple streaks. Of course, over the modern years, the metropolis lights dimmed the expanse, but Xu Wenwu was older than many of those cities standing. He knew that at the end of the day, the stars always outlasted everything,

He said this once in passing to Ying Li, who laughed at his soft-spoken melodrama. You don’t have to worry about that here, she said, stretching herself out underneath the bamboo thicket. You never run out of stars in Ta Lo.

Anyone could mistake her for a fairy, a goddess, an incarnate star. But to Xu Wenwu, she was simply and incredibly Ying Li, who hogged the sweetest Saturn peaches to herself, who missed her grandmother every day, and who guided his hand to pet a kirin for the first time. When she spoke to him, he stripped himself of every iron-plated moniker and title that kings would envy, and in return he was simply Xu Wenwu, the boy from a village whose name never made it into the history books, and he dared to not mind.

“I know just the place we can build our home here,” she said to him, eyes bright with excitement. “The lake is so clear that you can see the fallen trees like a window. And there are jackfruit trees that we can eat from in the summers. You’ll never want to leave.” Her lips curled into something more devious. “And I didn’t even have to steal your clothes to make you stay.”

“I was still soaked through,” Xu Wenwu pointed out, and she grinned with unbridled pride for herself and delight for him.

But when they knelt side by side before Guang Bo, her sister Ying Nan chaperoning them in quiet support, the dream of jackfruit trees in the summer was swiftly strangled.

“This killer has no place among our people,” he said. “He should have no place in your heart either.”

Ying Li’s fists tightened on her knees. Xu Wenwu did not move, nor did he lower his gaze from Guang Bo’s. Guang Bi looked upon Xu Wenwu in such a way that reminded him of his father, of which thousands of years did not dull the memory.

“And yet, it is his,” Ying Li said. The shake in her voice was almost imperceptible. She had never asked for anything of her own until today. “And I don’t want it back.”

“You were brought up to protect the world from dangerous threats and now you’ve grown soft on one,” Guang Bo retorted. “You know what he is capable of, what he has done with the Ten Rings.”

“I know he has sworn them off for me,” Ying Li said.

“The word of a killer,” Guang Bo said gravely.

“Of a man,” Ying Li retorted. “With skin and soul just like anyone else, Guang Xian Sheng. Just like you. Do you think you can never change either?”

“Even if a tiger changes its stripes, the village will hunt it for killing their children,” Guang Bo said. “The bloodthirst will come for him. And there is too much at stake here in Ta Lo to let it come.” His face hardened, but for Ying Li there was almost pity. “He shall not make a home here.”

Xu Wenwu knew, the moment he knelt before another man, that they would not accept him. He lived a thousand years and seen more than any of them knew, and still he waited for the ghostly ache of a childhood scar upon rejection, the father-shaped bruises that faded only visibly. But it did not come, because Ying Li saw the lowly man beneath the gilded glory and still thought him worth defending.

Ying Li was speechless, lips stiff and eyes shining with hope deferred. He risked reaching a hand to brush hers, should it be the last chance he could. Before the impenetrable bamboo thicket rushes between them, the chasm deepened by his insurmountable sin. There were calluses on her warm fingertips. He wanted to squeeze them and keep them warm at night.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

Xu Wenwu leaned in close, silent acceptance upon his breath, until he realized that she did not look at him when she said it.

Guang Bo rose from his seat, realization dawning on him. Ying Li locked eyes with Ying Nan with grief and resolution. Her sister paled with understanding, looking upon Ying Li and Xu Wenwu with understanding and betrayal and sadness all at once.

“Li Mei,” Ying Nan said, her voice cracking.

Ying Li held Xu Wenwu’s hand, her fingers interlacing with his until they knitted together like rope, only meaningful when twisted together to be a bond, or an execution, or both. […]

[tessmontyart]

Tessmontyart’s Owl City fanart masterpost

Hello! For those who don’t know me I have been on long quest to complete an artwork for every Owl City song*. I thought this list might be an easy way to keep track of everything! 😊 

💖 Each track links to my corresponding artwork.

💖 The tracks with no links are songs I haven’t done artwork for yet.

💖  ‘(repeat)’ means a song that already exists on a previous album.

💖 ‘Song name 1, Song name 2′ means a song I’ve done more than one artwork for

Please let me know if I’ve missed any Owl City songs! (I'll tackle his other projects like the scores and Sky Sailing later) I’ll update this list whenever I complete a new work :)

*(Disclaimer: There are some songs listed here I don’t intend to draw such as some covers and some features - I mainly want to draw every ‘purely’ Owl City song, and the odd feature/cover if I like it enough :D)

Of June:

Swimming in Miami, Captains and Cruise Ships, Designer Skyline, Panda Bear, The Airway, Fuzzy Blue Lights, Hello Seattle

Maybe I’m Dreaming:

On The Wing, Rainbow Veins 1, Rainbow Veins 2, Super Honeymoon, The Saltwater Room 1, The Saltwater Room 2, The Saltwater Room 3 (video), Early Birdie, Air Traffic, The Technicolor Phase 1, The Technicolor Phase 2, Sky Diver, Dear Vienna, I’ll Meet You There, This is the Future, West Coast Friendship

Ocean Eyes:

Cave In, The Bird and the Worm, Hello Seattle (repeat), Umbrella Beach, The Saltwater Room (repeat), Dental Care, Meteor Shower, On The Wing (repeat), Fireflies 1, Fireflies 2, The Tip of the Iceberg, Vanilla Twilight 1, Vanilla Twilight 2, Tidal Wave, Hot Air Balloon, Butterfly Wings, Rugs from Me to You, Sunburn, If my Heart was a House, Strawberry Avalanche

All Things Bright and Beautiful:

Album cover, The Real World, Deer in the Headlights 1, Deer in the Headlights 2, Angels, Dreams don’t Turn to Dust, Honey and the Bee, Kamikaze, Galaxies, Hospital Flowers, Alligator Sky, The Yacht Cub 1, The Yacht Club 2, Plant Life, How I Became the Sea, Lonely Lullaby, Shy Violet

The Midsummer Station:

Dreams and Disasters, Shooting Star, Gold, Dementia, I’m Coming After You, Speed of Love, Good Time, Embers, Silhouette, Metropolis, Take It All Away, Bombshell Blonde, Top of the World

The Midsummer Station Acoustic: 

Good Time (repeat), Shooting Star (repeat), Gold (repeat), Hey Anna, I Hope You Think of Me

Ultraviolet (EP):

Beautiful Times, Up All Night, This Isn’t The End, Wolf Bite

Mobile Orchestra:

Verge, I Found Love, Thunderstruck, My Everything, Unbelievable, Bird with a Broken Wing, Back Home, Can’t Live Without You, You’re Not Alone, This Isn’t the End (repeat), Tokyo

Cinematic:

Fiji Water, The 5th of July, All My Friends, House Wren, Not All Heroes Wear Capes, Montana, Lucid Dream, Always, Cloud Nine, Winners Never Quit, Madeline Island, Be Brave, New York City, Firebird, Cinematic

Coco Moon:

Adam, Check Please, Under the Circus Lights, Kelly Time, Field Notes, Sons of Thunder, The Tornado, Vitamin Sea, Dinosaur Park, Learn How to Surf, The Meadow Lark, My Muse

Random blog songs:

Halcyon, Helicopter Moon, Beautiful Mystery, Paper Tigers, Floppy Fish (Trust Me), Hey There Rabbit, Ridiculously Happy, Salad Basket, Kickflip, Magic Golden Flower, 

Christmas Songs:

Peppermint Winter, The Christmas Song, The First Noel, Light of Christmas, Kiss Me Babe it’s Christmas Time, Humbug, Snow Snow Snow, 

Promotional Songs:

To The Sky, When Can I See You Again, Shine Your Way, Live It Up, Clap Your Hands, Wonderfilled, Here’s Hope, Up To The Cloud

Covers:

Waving Through a Window, Enchanted, 99 Red Balloons, Can You Feel The Love Tonight, Untitled Hymn, Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing, Goodbye, Brave, Folsom Prison Blues, Jackson, If I Stand, Listen to what the Man Said, Bright Eyes, All Star

Featured:

Middledistancerunner, Youtopia, All About Us, Eternity, Cactus in the Valley, Ready to Fly, Alive, In The AIr, That’s My Jam, Snow Snow Snow, Forever and Always

Miscellaneous artworks:

Owl City rocking out on a keytar (commission), Adam Young (inktober 2016), Flames Pond, Midsummer Station Touring Band gift art, Midsummer Station Touring Band Halloween, Adam Young New Year 2013, Adam Young New Year 2015, Hoot Owl Day ad, Hoot Owl Secret Santa ad 1, Hootowl Secret Santa ad 2, Hootowl Secret Santa ad 3, Hootowl Secret Santa 3 (no text), Hoot Owl Valentines Day ad, Christmas Adam Young 2012, Christmas Adam Young 2013, Christmas Daniel Jorgenson, Christmas Jasper Nephew, Christmas Steve Goold, Christmas Breanne Duren, Get Well Soon Adam, Gift Art (youretheskyifellthrough), Gift art )thedoctorwhoflygon10), Gift art (thatbombshellblonde) 

Other Projects:

Brielle (Sky Sailing)

I’m only including this here because I have done an artwork for it - but I don’t intend to tackle the rest of Sky Sailing until all the Owl City album songs are done :)

[theworldisblue]

teach me to be good

read on ao3

It was one of the coldest nights in awhile, the freezing tendrils of air finding their way into Damian’s costume chilling him to the bone. Jon didn't seem to notice, hopping around the city with a youthful cry and sparkling eyes. He took everything as new. Things like helping a woman find her way to the bus stop and saving a cat from a particularly big dog seemed to set him alive. They were so small. Such little things that made his smile wide and bright, cheeks painted red from the whipping wind as he rushed around. Of course, it did well to billow his cape behind him, making for a magnificent backdrop of color for the tiny hero.

Jon looked good in color, Damian noticed, as he followed,  slipping between the cracks of buildings and hiding along shadows. It was dark tonight, a noticeable difference from the usual sing-songy streets of Metropolis. Usually there were streetlights for miles, bright buildings reaching up into the sky and towering the bustling streets. Nights in Metropolis were usually alive, pulsing with events and people. It was so very different from Gotham. Though, nothing was quite like Gotham.

Not tonight though. There was a power outage a few hours right before the dead of night, promptly shutting up the city into a box of darkness. No one was out now, not really. They all holed up in their homes of warmth and candles and softly told “good nights” as they waited for morning. As if promising that they would submit themselves to the quiet life just once, no doubt ready to leap out the very next night and stay out extra late, just to make up for lost time.

For now, it was just the stragglers. People who, for one reason or another, couldn't find their way inside. There wasn't much crime, so Damian watched from afar as Jon flew people from place to place, warming up gloves and offering a thumbs up to tired eyes.

He supposed he should feel more comfortable in the darkness. Gotham was usually like this. Shadowy and cold and unyieldingly restless, like small creatures crawling just beneath the surface of darkness. It was what he knew, what he had come to trust, to count on. Gotham had its own rule book. One he had memorized and knew how to manipulate and play to his advantage. Any other city, though workable, simply wasn’t as safe as Gotham. Wasn't as known. Nothing ever was. It was because of this that the new void that was Superman’s city was unnerving to the small boy crouching in the cold on a lonely rooftop. This was the place of light. The bright opening gates of cheeky smiles and pats on the back and curtains drawn back from windows so you can watch family game night explode about within.

This was the city of Jon. Of the small boy who ran out of his house every night in Costco jeans and a fluttering red cape who wanted so badly to simply do good . Because that is what he was- good. Right down to his very core. Damian would be the one to know. He had tried his very best to find the bad in Jon. To see something beneath the two-dimensional smile and bright blue eyes that rivaled the stars in regards to shine. Some nights, while up on a small roof, standing next to the boy, heaving and huffing out breaths into the freezing air after a particularly tricky save, his body radiating the heat reminiscent of a blazing trail-head fire, Damian thinks that Jon’s eyes, from the way they light up the sky around them, really must be stars.

Maybe it was just a kryptonian thing.

Still, Damian had tried to find the bad in the overwhelming plume of good that seemed to ooze from Jon every waking, and dreaming, moment. What he found, as he peeled back the layers, was nothing but a boy, true and real and kind. That was all.

And at first Damian hated him for it. Hated him for being everything that Damian could not be. Jon was weak, yes, but he had so much faith in the world around him. Every time he put that stupid “S” symbol on his chest he braved the world with a wonderment that could only befall someone who truly had only ever known the softest parts of life. Someone who, in their heart, believed that everything was good. That everything could be.

It was idiotic. And terrifying. Because Damian hoped it would never change. And because he knew, someday, like clockwork, it would. Because it always did. Everyone grew up someday.

Damian was jealous for a time too. He envied the boy that got everything he hadn’t even known he wanted. Not that he would ever admit he wanted it in the first place. Because he was a Wayne. He didn't need to be coddled like a child. He didn't need to believe in happy endings and hugs for all. He never had. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had never even gotten to know what it must be like. To be so carefree. So happy .

But those feelings could be controlled, cast out. They weren’t what bugged him the most. No, it was the fact that Jon believed everything was good. He believed that every villain he met was worth something, in the end. That everyone had some reason, some magic formula to being fixed. To not do evil things anymore. He truly thought he could save everyone. Not just in the save-people-from-a-burning-building or stop-someone-from-getting-mugged type of way either. He believed people could be saved in the maybe-with-some-understanding-the-bad-guy-will-see-the-wrong-in-his-ways type of save. And, to be frank, he was wrong.

But also, it meant that Jon believed Damian was good. He didn't know much about Damian’s time in The League. Jon had skimmed the very surface, knowing only paper facts and clipped confessions on rough days through watery eyes, but nothing more. He knew enough not to push too much. He knew enough to know that somewhere under the surface, Damian appreciated him for not bringing it up much.

Jon really, truly believed he knew Damian. But he didn't. Never would. Not the way Mother did. Not the way his caretaker did. Or the way the kind lady who used to dress his wounds and hum quiet songs in his ear when no one was around for hours and hours, did. Not the way all of his victims had come to know him. Jon knew Damian as Robin. Knew him as the flimsy mask he had accosted from his brother, and had claimed as his own.

He knew Damian as Damian had hoped he would. Jon was too trusting to not search beneath the surface. To not notice the poorly hidden monster feeding underneath his very skin, sometimes writhing and fighting with all it’s might to be set free. Jon never saw how incredibly close Damian was to losing this forever battle from time to time.

Because of course he didn't. Because he was Jon. And Jon didn't see monsters. Not as they were anyway. He didn't shy away from them as he should. He saw them as the greatest victims, as the first to be saved. He pitied them. Weeped for them when he wasn't fast enough to stop them from running their lives through with a stake. Monsters it seemed, save for maybe Joker, never did live too long. They were bright, destructive fireworks that blew like fuses that took and hurt before fading out forever. Jon was too blind to see that a monster was only what it was, nothing more. He was so good that he never considered that there might be something out there that wasn't.

And Damian wasn't. That was his greatest shame. Knowing that one day Jon would see he was no better than the bad guys they stopped night to night. Knowing that Damian would be the thing to steal away that sparkle in his eyes. Once he knew, truly knew, Damian for what he was, he would see the world for what it’s always been.

Though, it wasn't as clear to Damian as it's being put now. He didn't know these things on the surface. He knew them only deep in his heart, like an ever-firing cannon aimed directly at the monster within its chains made of Robin’s domino mask. He would feel it in fleeting moments of his lively patrols with the boy. It would whisper to him during the weightless moments when jumping between rooftops. It would float in the air, singing in his ears as he sprinted from save to save. Even as the nights were finally over, and Jon was sleepily rubbing those starry eyes on their way home, it would nag in the back of his mind.

He ignored it every time. Though he knew it was impossibly unfair to take advantage of this gentle creature, this soft soul, as his mother would put it, he couldn't help himself. Couldn't help but march on with him just as the sun sunk into the valleys beyond the city of all that was good and fight beside him at every opening. The blinding light that was Jon made it easier not to be condemned to the darkness so constantly. Jon’s pure good made the fact that he was bad hurt just a little less, if only for breathless moments here and there. The moments in between all time, where things set still in place. Where Damian could swear he saw the fireworks explode all around Jon as if saying I am the sun if it were to be a person.

Damian liked to think it rubbed off on him, if only a little. Not that it would be a good thing in the end. The good, though magnetic and entracing, was weakness. And Damian would sacrifice a peaceful heart if it meant he would be strong. If it meant no one could hurt him in any way ever again.

That didn't stop him from marveling at Jon’s willful openness. He gave so much of himself to everyone he met so instantly, like they were more deserving of it than he was. He decided people were worth it with just a glance.

Maybe, in a sort of backwards way, that very thing is what made Jon stronger than Damian could ever hope to be. He was strong enough to show all that he was without infliction, without being afraid someone might walk into his heart and burn it all out, leaving nothing but broken, blackened, charred remains. Maybe that was Jon’s secret. Instead of hiding away, protecting yourself from anyone and anything that could possibly hurt you, opening up. Displaying yourself to the world as if saying, Come and get me . Maybe that was true strength. The kind that Father or Ras simply were too scared to try to know. Perhaps Damian was too scared as well.

Or perhaps Jon was a loving fool. A fool to allow himself to be so fully and so completely compromised without as much as a single thought. Maybe Damian would feel for him, if once upon a time he wasn’t taught that pity was the greatest form of self-indulgence. That it was wrong. He caught himself from thinking it, really he tried, but sometimes the things we think and feel can't be conditioned so neatly. Alas, he catches himself, more than he would like, feeling for the gentle boy standing before him. Pitying him. Jon had not gotten the chance to be strong. He was being willfully misguided by those that he trusted the most. Allowed to believe that his perfect idealized version of the world was a reality. And the longer it went on for, the more it would crush him when the smoke cleared. Damian tried not to feel bad that he was one of the evil people leading Jon astray.

It wasn't like Jon was Damian's responsibility anyway. Sure, they were partners, and out in the field he would give his life to see Jon return home to Krypto safely, but that's where it ended. Their partnership was strictly professional, born of their fathers’ closely related night activities. It was that and nothing more. They both knew it. At least, they sure made a show of it to each other. Though, the things we iron onto the surface are not always how we feel deep within. In fact, they usually never are.

So, cloaked by the darkness of the newly costumed Metropolis-as-Gotham, Damian watched Jon as he worked. Watched him jump and fly and giggle to no one but himself and the moon above. If the unorthodox black of the city bothered him at all, it didn't show. And in the early startings of the morning, when the sky started to awake for a new day and Jon was trotting back over to Damian’s side on the roof, he could swear he saw his way-too-blue eyes glow in the freshly arrived sun.

They sat side-by-side for what felt like a million moments, but at the same time none at all, watching the sun rise over Metropolis once more, fixing the unsettling air that had accumulated from the sins of darkness. Jon watched the sun rise, gaping in perfectly entranced wonder at the sight before him. Like it was and would always be the most beautiful thing he’ll ever see. Damian was watching Jon, finding himself hoping deep in his burned out heart it wouldn't be true. Hoping that Jon does, in fact, see many more beautiful things after today. Things to rival that of a simple sunrise.

It was dumb. To love someone so weak. Someone so easily crushed. To hope so much for them that it makes your heart do a funny ache sometimes, but if anyone in this unforgiving world deserved it, it was Jon.

[cyclone-rachel]

pay the asking price || a supergirl fic

Epilogue

Deep below the surface of the National City waterfront, a small craft was exploring.

The people inside the craft weren’t exactly sure what they were searching for- but then again, since Supergirl had saved Flight 237, nothing had been certain. Nobody would say that she wasn’t beloved in National City, but just as with her cousin in Metropolis, she had brought with her certain anomalies. Not just those who threatened the city, but events and objects as well that were never present until she made her debut. And certainly, what had recently happened with the Children of Rao cult was an example- because Supergirl was on Earth, so too were pieces of her home planet, which had been used by Thomas Coville to create a Kryptonite bomb. To contain the explosion, Supergirl had dropped the bomb underneath the stadium, and even weeks after the event, there was still a search for debris.

And they were searching, as the water was illuminated, the lights from the craft probing the bottom of the harbor.

“The waterfront explosion still affects another mile radius. We should keep patrolling for damage.”

The navigator of the craft nodded, and pulled forward- and soon they came upon a large ship, just as bright as theirs, that appeared to be stuck in the harbor.

Another perfect example of the effect Supergirl had on their city- for surely this was something she would be more familiar with.

“What the...”

Just as the craft lowered, to further examine the ship, a panel on it opened up. Something shot out and targeted them- likely some kind of laser, had they not been underwater, but this attack still hurtled them backwards. They were disoriented, as the ship prepared to shoot again.

~

Winn really didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Or Kara’s, for that matter- after all, there was still the matter of that virus that’d been used against the Coluans. If- well, if he allowed himself some wishful thinking, there was no way someone who was Coluan could remain on Earth without some kind of protection, which was why the one Coluan they wanted to save chose to return to the 31st century where that was no longer a problem.

(And hell, it probably wasn’t even him. There were so many aliens in National City now, with all kinds of spaceships, and if this was indeed one of those, the odds were definitely against the possibility that their friend was coming back. So he didn’t dare to hope, even if Kara would have told him to.)

(Okay, part of him hoped a little bit.)

(And this helped get his mind off the Mr. J situation that was nagging at him since they’d bumped into each other that morning. Seriously, he needed to get out more, and no amount of excuses from J’onn would change his mind about that, even as he gave J’onn more work to do and thus less time to spend with his father)

But he called Kara anyway, and she flew in to meet him and J’onn in the command center.

~

“Winn? I got your message.” Kara said as she arrived.

“Yes. Yes. Of course. So, I'm not really quite sure what to make of it, but I thought you guys should see this.” Winn answered, as he got to his chair, preparing what he was going to show them. Kara and J’onn followed him, watching the monitor everything was projected on intently.

“This is an incident that happened this morning.”

“What is it?”

“So, the city sent out an exploratory team to investigate the effects of the submarine attack, and you can see that they found something strange in the bedrock, so they went to check it out. And...”

He played the video, showing them what had exactly happened.

“It got attacked.”

“Yep. I mean, luckily, their emergency systems kicked in and they made it to the surface, but they could have easily just been taken out.”

“What else can you find out?”

“Oh! The USGS geothermal scans, we can pull up one of those to find these coordinates.”

Winn did, and he was even more curious about this whole thing than he had been.

“…Okay. Well, I can tell you two things, right off the bat. One, according to the rock layers, that ship has been under there for about 12 thousand years, and two, whatever metal it's made out of is not on the periodic table.”

~

Kara wasn’t about to jump to conclusions.

Of course not- if everyone who had been lost to her before that she had seen in her dreams over the years was truly alive and well, her mother would have survived Krypton’s destruction. So would her father- and Kal-El’s parents, and her friend Thara, and Kenny Li, and her aunt Astra… too many people to name.

But this one, the daydream, where she had met Querl and her mother in a field, the planet Saturn in the sky above them… it felt different, and coupled with the vision Psi had given her, and Coville’s advice… it was something else.

She just wanted to get down there and see for herself, hoping that this wasn’t Fabala’s final contingency plan, some kind of revenge planted where she knew Kara and her friends would come looking for it in search of Fabala’s son.

And apparently, this translated into her walking way too fast towards Winn’s coordinates, as Winn and J’onn followed her.

“Okay, slow down, slow down. We're getting close, we're getting close.” Winn said, stopping precisely at one point on the sidewalk. His scanner beeped rapidly, before he did stop, and Kara and J’onn stood beside him.

“Wait. No. Hey. Wait, okay. Ship should be right under us.”

The scanner continued beeping, as Kara spoke up, addressing those walking by the three of them.

“Okay. All right, stand back. Everyone, stand back. I saw Superman do this once.”

“Get back!” Winn echoed, and Kara was about to spin (calculating how fast she’d need to go and how much pressure she would need to exert until they arrived in the ship.)

“Wait, wait, wait. There's a way of doing this without destroying public property.” J’onn said, and Kara and Winn followed him to a spot around the corner from where they had been standing together. “Let's go.”

“Oh, man, I wanted to see that.” Winn said, even if neither of them had really heard him. “Awesome.”

“All right.” J’onn said, looking left and right before drawing both of them into a side hug.

“What are you doing?”

“This might feel a little weird.” He answered, which was the last thing Winn heard before he and Kara sank through the sidewalk.

They weren’t on the sidewalk- it was more like, when they could breathe again, some kind of controlled falling. And they had apparently fallen into the ship in question, conveniently enough.

“Oh, no! Oh, God, that was horrible.” Winn said, still shaken.

“Shh.” Kara cautioned, as J’onn pulled out a flashlight. She started going ahead, looking around the dark hallway where they’d landed.

“That was amazing. Can we do that all the time, please?” Winn asked, apparently over his fear now.

“No.” J’onn said firmly.

“Okay.”

Winn exhaled, as though to psych himself up for what he was about to see- and it was justified, as they’d entered a room that was full of what looked like transparent water tanks. Except the water was orange, and these tanks didn’t just contain water.

(Okay, it was kind of like the healing tanks from Star Wars. But not even that could comfort him right now)

“Is that a person?” Winn asked, as they passed by one of the tanks.

“Looks like.” J’onn said, shining his flashlight on the body contained inside, and the three of them kept moving while the lights flickered.

“There's an empty one.” Kara said, looking at the other side of the room where the light shone differently.

“Okay, that's not creepy, not at all.” Winn said, as he and J’onn looked at it with her.

Suddenly, there came a kind of whirring sound inside the ship, and there was a shadowed figure at the entrance to the room that appeared to be holding a gun. Kara’s heat vision ignited, as she looked at the figure, and they fired at Kara. The shot bounced off of her, but she was on guard, and the figure moved forward.

“Don't shoot.” Kara commanded, and the figure spoke in a language she didn’t know.

“We're not here to hurt you.”

The figure stepped into the light, and Kara let down her defenses, as Brainiac 5 slowly lowered the gun in his hands.

“Kara.” He said. He looked tired, and now had a mustache and the beginnings of a beard, but looked no less beautiful as when she had said goodbye to him six months prior. “It’s you.”

He let the gun fall, and as J’onn and Winn stared, Kara approached Querl, holding his face in her hands.

She hugged him, sniffling, as he held her tight, and that was all she needed.

[jhl1031973]

Unpublished Work - First Two Pages Of A Captain Video Reboot Comic #1

I've handed in four short story manuscripts and a BACK ISSUE article. Plus, I'm work on other BI pieces due to editor Michael Eury in August and December. Enjoy this unpublished work while I work on those and other projects I put aside.

I'm not exactly certain when I wrote this, but I think it was not too long after I did the PS Artbooks intros and my first BACK ISSUE article on Marvel's MICRONAUTS comics. I'd seen that Dark Horse Comics had revived CAPTAIN MIDNIGHT comic books. This inspired me to write a new version of CAPTAIN VIDEO. It started as something like a preview or a serial for anthology comic. I wanted to reboot this classic franchise. I had a retro sci-fi visual in mind when I began the script. I've sent it to various publishers, but it's been turned down so far. Oh well, perhaps when the time is right, a new CAPTAIN VIDEO comic will see the light of day. Enjoy.

James Heath Lantz 2 February 2021

PAGE 1 (3 PANELS)

PANEL 1 EXTERIOR: OUTER SPACE

We see the planet Earth and the moon in this image. A caption in the upper right corner should state the obvious.

1. CAPTION: EARTH.

PANEL 2 EXTERIOR: A FOREST ON EARTH

The exterior description should say it all. It's your basic secluded area in the woods. There should be a caption at the bottom of the panel.

2. CAPTION: SOME THINGS REMAIN THE SAME...

PANEL 3 EXTERIOR: A FUTURISTIC CITY IN THE YEAR 2231

Here's where the artist should have fun as long as the scene looks like a 1940s-1950s science fiction film or television series mixed with the art style of the 1951 Captain Video comic books. What we have here is a shining metropolis of the future of polished, bright silver metal. Automobiles and Whirlojets from the Captain Video comics are moving through the streets and skies as spaceships are being launched to go to the stars. This is ALLIANCE CITY, headquarters of the newly formed INTERPLANETARY ALLIANCE AND UNIVERSAL SAFETY COMMISSION, whose triple-domed building should be in the center of the image. If the artist is having trouble with ideas, they can check out the surviving episodes of Captain Video and His Video Rangers. Four are available on DVD. They may also wish to watch the movie serial Captain Video: Master Of The Stratosphere or any science fiction film or TV show from the 1950s for inspiration. It might also help to look at the Fawcett Comics' Captain Video comics. Roy Thomas and I worked on an intro for a hardcover volume that collected the entire series. However, the comics themselves are available online for reference as copies of the book are next to impossible to find. The caption should be in the top left corner without obstructing the image in this panel.

3. CAPTION: YET, OTHER THINGS HAVE CHANGED GREATLY.

PAGE 2 (4 PANELS)

PANEL 1 EXTERIOR: OUTER SPACE DURING AN INTERGALACTIC WAR

Space vehicles of all shapes and sizes are firing energy weapons at one another. I want the artist to use their imagination to its fullest here. Whatever they have in mind will be great so long as it fits with the visual style for Captain Video. A caption should be located in the upper left corner.

1. CAPTION: AFTER MANY YEARS OF WAR...

PANEL 2  INTERIOR: THE INTERPLANETARY ALLIANCE AND UNIVERSAL SAFETY COMMISSION'S MAIN MEETING AUDITORIUM

Beginning with this panel, I want to do something the TV series could not do because the Dumont Network did not have the resources or the budget to do so. I want to show a lot of alien lifeforms of various types. This panel should have a United Nations type of meeting room full of delegates from the numerous worlds in the INTERPLANETARY ALLIANCE AND UNIVERSAL SAFETY COMMISSION. Have fun with this. Once again, we have a caption located in the upper left corner.

2. CAPTION: THE INTERPLANETARY ALLIANCE AND UNIVERSAL SAFETY COMMISSION WAS BORN IN THE YEAR 2231.

PANEL 3 INTERIOR: A TYPICAL HOME IN THE YEAR 2231

A family consisting four grandparents, two parents and three children, two male and a female, are gathered around a holographic video projector. They are watching a program with cowboys as characters. Let the artist decide how the people should be dressed and how "retro-futuristic" the living room they occupy should look so long as the hologram comes out out of something similar to an electric eye.

3. CAPTION: WITH IT CAME THE NEW VIDEO AGE...

PANEL 4 INTERIOR: A BRIEFING ROOM IN VIDEO RANGER HEADQUARTERS

The VIDEO RANGERS are shown in this image listening to a commanding officer codenamed CAPTAIN VIDEO brief them on their missions. Make the VIDEO RANGERS a mixture of human and aliens. Their uniforms should be similar to the army surplus ones used on the television show. However, the fabric should be a metallic gray. There should be a diagonal bronze lightning bolt on the Video Rangers' costumes that begins at the left shoulder with the tip located near the right hip. Captain Video's suit should have a gold lightning bolt. A caption should be located in the upper left corner, with another in the lower right under Captain Video.

4. CAPTION: ITS PROTECTORS ARE THE VIDEO RANGERS...

5. CAPTION: LED BY CAPTAIN VIDEO.

[weswritescomics]

Character descriptions:

Bruce Wayne: Italian-American 30 years old. 6’3, slick black hair, darker blue eyes, usual darkened lining around eyelids, fit build. Not as stocky, more slender psychic, but still muscular. Five o’clock shadow, always.

The Batman: Dark blue shading to his costume, stitched leather cape, shorter ears on the cowl, cowl a darker blue than the cape. Doesn’t look like armor, more fabric, woven with kevlar. Lenses are white as snow, reflect light and shine in the dark, not animatic however, still and shaped.

Alfred Pennyworth: 63 years old, balding head, full beard of grey and white, 5’9. Stocky build, English, war veteran.

Detective James Gordon: 40 years old. African American, 6’2. Firm build, rougher mustache, balding hair, new hire at GCPD, transfer from Metropolis.

Detective Harvey Bullock: 37 years old. Caucasian, 5’9, heavy set, longer orange tinted beard, always wearing a classic hat. Thinks of himself as a real hot shot.

J𝗨𝗦𝗧𝖨𝗖𝗘 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗚𝗨𝗘.

𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗛 - 60.

Chapter One.

The Night Cometh.

Gotham City, August, 1962.

Rain is the constant in Gotham. Pelting rays of ice cold water that hit window shields at a rapid pace. Across the open yard of Wayne Manor, through long strands of untamed grass, and leafless trees, sit two grave stones. Each of them a mark of the past that holds him. Each of them carved with the singular word.

𝗪𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗲.

“Master Bruce?” The butlers tinted voice breaks his train of thought, standing at the window, with hands clasped behind his back — is Bruce Wayne. The last heir of the Wayne fortune, and The Prince of Gotham, “Alfred, in here.” His voice is lower, rougher than that of the past. A child, who was once full of life and optimism, was now a man heavy with dread.

“Sir.” Alfred stands in the doorway of the room they both share, the old master bed room of Martha and Thomas Wayne. He holds in his hands, a silver tray, accompanied with a small cup of coffee, fresh with the trail of heated steam — and next to it, a blueberry muffin, “You don’t usually come in here, I wasn’t sure where you were. Large house and all.” Alfred moves across the open space, placing said tray of assorted goods on the edge of the bed, “I thought it was time.” Wayne responds, however, his eyes keep outward, looking towards the gravestones that stare right back at him, “I owe them that much.” Pennyworth let’s out a sigh, his white gloved hands find themselves intertwining. He rocks on the back of his heals, with a small clearing of his throat.

“Master Bruce, I think it’s time you let go of the ghost in the backyard, and comeback to the land of the living.” Bruce doesn’t answer. “You’ve been back in Gotham for a whole year now, and you’ve barley seen the city for what it is now.” “I have.” Wayne turns finally, his eyes rage with pain, with lack of sleep — and vengeance. “Running around at night does 𝗻𝗼𝘁 count. Allowing yourself to feel the pain, to move on, and to run your fathers company 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀.”

Bruce takes small steps toward Alfred, the space between the two closes, “Alfred.” He starts, “We’ve seen this city for what it truly is, it showed us long ago the violence it can produce. The only way to fix that, is to bring it down, from its core. Gotham can’t rebuild, until the infestation — the 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝘂𝘀 — that crime is, is ridden of.” The two lock eyes now, a father made of grief, an arrogant son full of pain, their words aren’t spoken here — how much they truly need one another. Instead, it is met with another sigh, as Alfred takes the tray from the bed, turning and heading for the door, “We’ll then, a late dinner it is.”

GCPD Precinct, August, 1962.

The precinct buzzes with the usual morning crew of Gotham’s finest. Each of them in their own world of steady cases and rising efforts for the fight against crime. Or so, this is what James Gordon would’ve like to think they were doing. In reality it was 15% working against crime, and 85% working 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 crime. But he knew this before he even moved his family here, before he and his pregnant wife Barbara, took the plunge into the crime capital of the world. He, saw it as a way to do right by his father. Metropolis was dangerous, sure, but compared to Gotham, it was a shiny utopia. His father, then officer Gordon, always told him one thing — you do right not by the actions you 𝗱𝗼, but by the people you 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽.

And those words stuck with him ever since, which is what brought him here. The GCPD was failing, the criminal underground was boiling over into the ordinary world, dirty cops helped push that quota into reality, hate crimes continued to soar, even within the GCPD — and yet he still felt like there was good in this city. An ability, if it were to try, if it were to be given even an ounce of a chance, to shine — if not 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿 — than Metropolis. Barbara didn’t think so, she didn’t like the move, but how could she. The only silver lining she saw in this city was the chance of real and meaningful social work. Something that Metropolis barely offered. Again, a utopia to Gotham.

“Gordon!” Bullocks voice comes across the room, a gentle motion for Gordon to come closer, a waiting look on Harvey’s face, behind him in the meeting office was current Commissioner Harlen. James fixed his tie as he walked forth, bumping shoulders with busy bodies, and gaining 𝗴𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀 from those who’d wish for his downfall. Since his arrival, Gordon had done nothing but make enemies, other then Harvey — most of The GCPD had already told their assorted crime bosses about Gotham’s new hotshot. And how he was 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 to save the city from its internal bleeding.

“You’re late.” Bullock snorts, he combs out the side collar of Gordon’s coat, “I had —“ marriage troubles, “—to take the trash out. Got in a fight with a raccoon before I could claim my territory.” Both men let out a gentle laugh, before Harvey motions inside with his head, “C’mon.”

The room sits idle with one singular table, three chairs — two on one side, one lone on the other. The white board behind the single chair is covered with photo evidence, four separate crime scenes, each of them murders of four wealthy Gotham elites. All of them, with two common factors, the fact that each man used his wealth — his power — to influence The GCPD, the political world of Gotham, and to fund The Falcone mob family. The second thing they had in common; the large lipstick like star marked across the face. And the burning white eyes, void of emotion.

“Gordon..” Harlen begins, “Sorry.” James responds, he takes a seat, as does Harvey. “Four new cases boys, each of them on the same path you’ve been following —“ “Christ.” Harvey lets out under his breath, “—each of them as proper as the first three. Our perp, whoever it is, is one for the thematic and the dramatic.” Gordon digs into his coat pocket, pulling out a small notepad, “I was able to get in touch with forensics on the last hit, sent them a sample of whatever that green shit was — turns out it’s the same chemicals produced at ACE.” Harvey learns forward, “As in ACE chemicals?” James nods. “You too go there yet?” The commissioner leans forward, hands placing on the top of the table, a shift in the weight he holds, “No. No not yet.” Harvey responds, he takes his hat off for a second, running his hands through curly uncut hair.

“Then you go there next.” Harlen sits up now, hands resting on his belt buckle, “We’re on it.” Gordon responds, Harvey shoots him a look. They were friends, yes, too an extent. Gordon knew of Harvey’s deals, the backwater jobs he took in his earlier days of GCPD, he knew he was out — but he knew he still had ties. It was the only reason he never turned Harvey in, he was out, and trying to stay out. Trying to be clean, trying to be a better cop. That’s all any of them could do, try.

ACE Chemicals, August, 1962.

The old squad car rolls alongside echoing gravel, Gotham had just been covered in rain, verified by the shine left on the rocks and stone buildings that await them. A warrant for a search hides away in the glovebox, the car itself comes to a stop, just outside the gates — the lights turn off — as well as the engine. Out steps the two detectives, each of them in long coats. One, Gordon, with a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips, the other — Harvey — with a small flask held in his hands.

“Hate this place.” Bullock states, closing the squad car door behind him, “Scared?” Gordon muses, mouth slightly muffled by the stick, “Of radiation? Yea, sure. Also — the fact that only low life pieces of garbage hang at these parts. Talkin the worst of the worst out here Jim.” “James.” “What?” “Don’t call me Jim, man. That’s my dads name. I’m James Gordon, he’s Jim.” Harvey waves him off, taking one last swig, “When you pay my bills, I’ll call you whatever you want me to. Hell, maybe even president Gordon someday.” James shakes his head, placing the remaining cigarette on the ground, and stomping it out, it sizzles as it’s smushed between heel and wet gravel. The two set forth, walking through the now opened metal gate, the chain links rattle and ache as they push past. Each of them holding a flashlight in hand, “What did forensics say exactly?”

“They told me —“ Gordon takes out another cigarette, lighting it, the red end illuminates the inner palms of his hands. And then, a gentle puff of smoke. “That this chemical was created here, it was initially a military grade weapon — meant to be used in Germany. But, it was deemed too violent — er — powerful as they put it. Was scrapped, at least it was suppose to be.” “So how the hell is it on Gotham streets?” “That’s why we’re here. Aren’t we?” ACE chemicals spirals into a kingdom of cone like buildings, each of them painted with the same three letter word — ACE, ACE, ACE. And each cone, a spewing mountain of smoke. As each man continues their walk, they stride in silence, each of them in their own thought — focused on the task at hand. Gordon, thought back to Barbara, the conversation they had before he left this morning. It wasn’t pretty.

In the first year, they were better — they were still whole. That was until 𝗵𝗲 came along. A figure of the night, a myth that soon became reality — a man built of darkness and mystery. The Batman. He came to Gordon, he didn’t know why then, or at least he thought he didn’t. But he understood now, a year later, why Batman came to him. They were honest, mask and all, they knew one another — what this city meant, and how to save it. But this, this devotion that came with this relationship — ruined his real one. Days, weeks, months, spending late nights at GCPD. Working alongside The Batman, taking down the man they now call The Riddler. He laughs, an audible one, one that catches Harvey’s attention.

The Riddler. How funny it was, it use to be gangsters, both street and professional level men. Then, it became all about costumes. The red blur in Central City, who took down the man who called himself Captain Cold. The Amazon in Washington, fought a living tiger like woman. It was all, truly? Insane. And somehow, someway, they — these normal men — were soon intertwined in it all. 𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗛! A scream breaks him, cigarette dropping from parted lips. “Shit — was that?” “Go!” Their guns are removed from their holsters, their feet dig into the ground, pushing them into a run, “Go! Go! Go!” James repeats — one step ahead of the larger Bullock.

They almost slide taking a corner, the damp gravel giving way to their fastening pace. Until, they come into clear view of the scene ahead, hanging from the roof of a taller, shackle like building, is a lone man. His foot, wrapped in a thin line of wiring — one that can only be seen when it catches the small light of the moon, “Awe hell.” Harvey lets out, his gun lowering, his feet stopping. Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon sees it. The small shimmer of white, that pierces through the dark of Gotham — that lets him know their not alone here. The Batman, “Harvey, go get him down, cuff him. I think I see something...” Detective Gordon moves off to the side, as Detective Bullock goes forward.

Gordon shuts off his flashlight, waiting for a minute, as the space between him and Harvey is at a good distance.

“Jim.” The Batman begins, voice at almost a whisper, “Batman.” Gordon responds, his gun now being placed back in its holster, “What happened here.” The Batman sits on a rail, a few feet off the ground, not even James athletic background could get him up there. The wind pulls gently at the edge of his cape, it flutters in noticeable flaps, his short ears make out the remainder of his cowl — the white eyes peer back down on Gordon. Never looking away, “Those cases you’re on now — I’ve already been working them.” “Of course.” “I tracked the chemical to here, as did you. They call it chemical - x. That man —“ The head of the bat shifts, in a pointing direction, “Was here to get more.” “Why?” “You know why.” “To do more.” “Yes.”

Gordon rubs at his neck, “I don’t know, this is all, well this feels like Riddler — again. This feels like someone is playing games, trying to stir up Gotham.” “Not someone, Jim. Something.” “What?” “The man, his tattoos tell a story. On the back of his neck, look there. His friends will have the same signal — this is something, Jim. Bigger than Riddler.” Gordon looks back to Harvey, who had just gotten the man down, his eyes look back to — nothing. The Bat was gone, leaving nothing but the gust of wind.

The two men walk silently back, guiding the arrested man to the back of the squad car. Gordon opens the back door, almost stuffing the suspect in the back, as he does, he reaches forward, pulling back the hoodie over his head — moving long locks of hair from his neck. What he sees is a symbol, or rather a character — a creature. Shaped like a starfish, with a human eye at its middle, colored purple — the eye red as fire. As violence.

Bigger than Riddler. He thought. Sitting back into the driver seat.

What the hell did that mean?

[silenthillmutual]

what Classic Film(TM) you should watch based on who your fave Danganronpa 1/2 character is

disclaimer - obviously as a film dude i’m gonna say you should watch all of these. but maybe watch the one correlating to your fave first!

Makoto: 12 Angry Men (1957, dir. Sidney Lumet) - strong themes of justice, it’s about a jury trying to determine a man’s guilt. it’s basically what Makoto does for the entire game. you’ll also like it if you’re a fan of Phoenix Wright.

Sayaka: A Star is Born (1954, dir. George Cukor) - it’s all about a girl’s rise to fame and how her relationships change with that. there’s three versions of this film, most recently with Lady Gaga. 

Mukuro: Vertigo (1958, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - themes of murder and hiding your identity, losing yourself to a cause.

Leon: Animal House (1978, dir. John Landis) - a comedy about a fraternity. it’s THE college frat movie and i think Leon would enjoy it a lot.

Chihiro: WarGames (1983, dir. John Badham) - two teenagers might have accidentally started a world war during the cold war by trying to play computer games...fitting for the series, no?

Mondo: On the Waterfront (1954, dir. Elia Kazan) - struggling to do the right thing and being sort of frustrated about your circumstances as they pertain to class and missed opportunities. being dragged into bad situations by family. also Marlon Brando is a bicon and very hot in this movie.

Taka: Rebel Without a Cause (1955, dir. Nicholas Ray) - a lot of turbulent shit happens to three teenagers over the course of 24 hours. one of - if not the first canonically gay teenager on film. i think we all know by now that James Dean was mlm, but so were the director and Sal Mineo. big bi polyam vibes; if you like chishimondo as a ship you’ll probably like this film too.

Hifumi: Akira (1988, dir. Katsuhiro Otomo) - had a hard time figuring out what to put for Hifumi, but overall i think if nothing else he’d appreciate how impressive the animation was (and honestly, still is) along with the fact that the mangaka was also the director. so although there’s a lot cut out (the manga had not finished before the film came out), it’s still roughly the same plot as the manga.

Celes: Dracula (1931, dir. Tod Browning) - probably the most iconic iteration of Bram Stoker’s novel, this is the one staring Bela Lugosi. not terribly true to the novel from what i remember, but it’s peak aesthetic and exactly the kind of thing she’d enjoy.

Sakura: Rashomon (1950, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - finally getting onto films i haven’t actually seen but that are on my list. sakura’s another person i had a hard time deciding on a film for, but the “several characters telling different accounts of the same plot” reminded me a bit of her case in the game. 

Hina: West Side Story (1961, dir. Robert Wise & Jerome Robbins) - admittedly i had a different film in mind for her to start with, but Maria’s final monologue fits with Hina’s motivations during Sakura’s case.

Toko: Gone With the Wind (1939, dir. Victor Fleming) - another one i haven’t actually watched yet, but it’s based on a famous novel, described as “epic historical romance.” i think that vibes with Toko pretty well.

Byakuya: Citizen Kane (1941, dir. Orson Welles) - if you’re really interested in film, you’re gonna be made to watch this sooner or later. famous for being the “best film ever made”, it’s more or less about newspaper moguls like William Randolph Hearst - who is also the main reason why this film is famous at all. it’s not exactly a flattering depiction of those kinds of people and boy, did that ever piss Hearst off. if he hadn’t made such a big deal trying to keep Citizen Kane from seeing the light of day, something much better might have made it to the top spot. 

Hiro: The Music Man (1962, dir. Morton DaCosta) - based on the Broadway musical of the same name, a “travelling salesman” (read: con artist) starts to work his latest con on a gullible small town, but actually starts liking the people in it.

Kyoko: The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - not to be confused with the other Hitchcock film from the 30s also titled The Man Who Knew Too Much. this is the one with James Stewart and Doris Day. it’s a highly suspenseful film that gave us the song “Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)”.

Junko: Gaslight (1944, dir. George Cukor) - ever heard the term “gaslighting”? this is where it comes from! based on a play in which a woman’s husband psychologically tortures her into believing she is going insane.

Monokuma: Duck Soup (1933, dir. Leo McCarey) - all Marx Brothers films are as utterly silly (and sometimes as incomprehensible) as one of Monokuma’s MonoTheatres. i watched about half of Duck Soup and had to stop because it was finals week and i was supposed to be doing something other than losing my shit.

Hajime: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, dir. Frank Capra) - you probably already know this film. if you’re Christian you know it as That Film Your Parents Watch Every Year On Dec 24th Around Midnight. if you have seasonal depression, don’t watch it then; warning for suicidal ideation. it’s supposed to be uplifting. your mileage may vary on that one. 

Impostor: To Kill a Mockingbird (1962, dir. Robert Mulligan) - i don’t have a good reason to pair these two up other than gut feeling. as far as film adaptations of books go, it’s pretty damn good, and Atticus Finch is the original DILF. themes of childhood innocence and racism. 

Teruteru: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961, dir. Blake Edwards) - apparently much different from the novella on which it is based, but i think Teruteru would really dig the aesthetic and romantic vibes of the film. Holly Golightly is probably the original Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

Mahiru: Rear Window (1954, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - like It’s a Wonderful Life, chances are good you know this film - or at least, you’ve seen its plot recycled a hell of a lot. a professional photographer recovering from a broken leg thinks he witnesses a murder take place and is determined to get to the truth.

Peko: Seven Samurai (1954, dir. Akira Kurosawa) - another one on my to-watch list, but it’s oft referenced and remade in film. a village hires seven ronin to protect them from bandits who will return to steal their crops. 

Hiyoko: East of Eden (1955, dir. Elia Kazan) - i’ll be honest here, i didn’t really know what to put for Hiyoko because i’m not sure i understand much about her, but i seem to remember her family playing a pretty big role in her being Like That and for “shitty family” the first two things to come to mind were this and Giant. and unless you like 3-hour long movies about the state of Texas, i’m not about to recommend you watch Giant.

Ibuki: A Night at the Opera (1935, dir. Sam Wood) - another Marx Bros film in which they help a girl both to be with her lover and to achieve her dreams of stardom as an opera singer. the kind of silly, manic thing i think Ibuki would like.

Mikan: The Shining (1980, dir. Stanley Kubrick) - i hate hate hate putting this on here, but since this is for film and not books i couldn’t exactly state to read the book. the book is about the cycle of abuse. the movie is more about... a trapped man going crazy in a spooky hotel. 

Nekomaru: It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963, dir. Stanley Kramer) - comedy about five groups of people racing to get to a large sum of money buried by a recently escaped convict they stopped to help out after his car crash. it’s a comedy, and just kinda seemed like Nekomaru’s thing.

Gundham: The Seventh Seal (1957, dir. Ingmar Bergman) - i watched this in like 10th grade and all i really remember is a man playing chess with Death and if that doesn’t say Gundham Tanaka to you, i don’t know what does.

Nagito: North by Northwest (1959, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - i don’t really have a reason for this one either but it’s a spy film and i think komaeda could get behind that kind of intrigue. 

Chiaki: Metropolis (1927, dir. Fritz Lang) - not to be confused with the anime, this is a 1927 German expressionist film that seems to be about socialism and unionization. it’s also famous for its (purposeful) use of the Male Gaze and being one of the first sci-fi films ever made. be warned: it is a silent film.

Sonia: Strangers on a Train (1951, dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - another one of those films you’ll get told to watch if you’re interested in the queer history of film, i was gonna put something else but honestly the character of Barbara kinda reminded me of Sonia. a famous tennis player meets a man on a train who attempts to plan a double-murder with him.

Akane: My Fair Lady (1964, dir. George Cukor) - i was trying so hard not to double up on the post about musicals, but Akane really does have Eliza Doolittle vibes. they’re both feral and nothing would be able to really domesticate them. for whatever it’s worth, this film and the musical on which it is based is itself based on the play Pygmalion, in which your typical rich cishet white dude bets he can turn any street urchin into a real lady because he’s just that good. you might know the plot better as Pretty Woman.

Kazuichi: A Streetcar Named Desire (1951, dir. Elia Kazan) - i don’t really have a good excuse for this one, either; i haven’t even watched it yet (although i have read the play on which it is based). all i’m gonna say is i want Souda to have his gay awakening via Marlon Brando, as we all do.

Fuyuhiko: Casablanca (1942, dir. Michael Curtiz) - despite his love and adoration for Ingrid Bergman, Humphrey Bogart decides fighting Nazis is more important. i think Fuyuhiko would like the aesthetic, and the film. don’t let him know but i think he’d probably cry watching it.

Usami: To Sir, With Love (1967, dir. James Clavell) - issues of race and class intersecting in a film about a teacher working with inner city students. i was going to put Singin’ in the Rain here, because it’s what Usami would want people to watch...but i think this better fits the effect she wants to have as a being. 

[artemis-pendragon]

Fire in the Sky (one-shot)

Poe found them standing on top of the second highest skyscraper in Galactic City, wispy clouds gathering around the pointed spire, the vast metropolis spreading beneath their feet. Fireworks burst in the darkening sky, shattering sparks leaving trails of smoke like shooting stars. Or wounded ships with broken wings, wreathed in fire, spiraling to the ground...

He shook himself. There would be time for grief later. This was a time of celebration, of rebirth. He was going to be happy, damn it, even if only for one night.

"Hey." He slapped on a smile as Finn and Rey turned toward the sound of his voice. His friends were holding hands, fingers linked, shoulders touching. Jealousy flashed through him, hot as a brand. He set his jaw and hoped it didn't ruin his smile.

"Poe!" Finn said, grinning. "Isn't it great up here? I'm pretty sure this is the best view in the city."

Rey's smile was more reserved. "I'm glad you found us. We looked for you earlier, but you weren't at the new base. Headquarters," she amended.

"Oh, right!” There was a note of awe and relief in Finn’s voice. "Headquarters. No more secret bases. No more hiding. We did it. It's over."

Poe tried to feel relieved, tried to savor their victory like the others, but all he could think about was Snap going down in flames, of walking with Karé down darkened streets, letting her hold his hand so tight he thought the bones in his fingers would break. He didn't say, I wasn't at HQ because I was trying to keep my team from falling apart. I wasn't at HQ because as soon as the first fireworks burst gold and red in the sky, I was back up there, and we lost so many people, and I didn't save them, and maybe I could have.

He didn't realize he'd zoned out until Finn was right in front of him, hand on his shoulder, expression tight with concern. "Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

Poe summoned the energy to smile again, to pat Finn's hand and say, "That would be a long trip to the bottom if I fell off this thing, buddy."

Finn frowned. Apparently Poe's tone wasn't convincingly humorous, or maybe his expression betrayed how exhausted he was, how close to shattering like sparks across the city skies.

And then Finn was smiling again, and damn it, Poe thought, he's so beautiful.

"Yeah.” Finn squeezed Poe's shoulder then let go, turning back toward Rey. "Hey, if you fell I bet Rey would catch you. If you promise not to try any more crazy stunts with the Falcon, that is."

It was intended to be humorous, and Poe knew it. There was no ill intent, just playful banter between two friends. But in that instant he was furious, irrationally terrified, like the silken fabric of the world was slipping through his clenched fingers. "It's always about Rey," he muttered.

"What?" Finn sounded genuinely confused. "What about Rey?"

"Nothing." Another smile that felt a little too sharp around the edges. He looked past Finn to where Rey was watching the fireworks, a silhouette against the florescent horizon, confidence and elation written in the set of her shoulders, the upward tilt of her chin. She's beautiful, too. Poe's chest hurt, a dull ache like bruised ribs. And she saved us. When it comes down to the bare facts, she saved us, and I should be fucking grateful.

And he was. But he was also bitter, angry, carrying the grief of a thousand families whose children and siblings and parents and lovers had fallen like shooting stars over Exegol. Like plumes of red and gold bursting in the eternal dark of space, brought down by blaster fire, by cannons, by bolts of blue lightning stunning their engines and boiling their blood.

"It's loud," Poe said.

Finn had returned to Rey's side, but hadn't retaken her hand. Poe didn't know he'd spoken aloud until his friends looked back at him, Finn with concern, Rey with understanding.

"Maybe you should go back to headquarters." Rey said gently. "Don't worry, you won't hurt our feelings if you'd rather be somewhere else right now."

Another flash of anger, of bitter jealousy burning in his blood. "Yeah," he said. "Think I was interrupting something anyway."

Before either of them could reply, he turned and crossed to the hatch door, throwing it open and descending into the steel guts of the silver skyscraper.

* * *

Finn found him hours later sitting on his bed in his new top-floor apartment, head down, hands gripping his upper arms, knuckles pale and breath shaky.

"Hey," Finn said. "You left the door open."

Poe felt a flash of embarrassment. I wanted you to find me, he didn't say. Instead, he said, "Yeah, well, I'm trying not to shut myself off from the world. I want my team—my friends—to know I'm available if they wanna talk. Or just... I dunno. Be together." His words tripped over each other, falling clumsily off his tongue. He was drunk, but at least he'd been drinking with Jess instead of alone.

"That's a great idea," said Finn. "You mind if I come sit with you?"

"Please," Poe said, a bit too desperately. He covered it with a nonchalant smile, raising his head and taking a few even breaths. If Finn noticed anything was off, he didn't mention it. Poe was achingly grateful for that fact. The last thing he needed right now was pity.

Finn crossed the room (there was so much space, more than Poe had ever had to himself) and sat on the edge of the bed. His shoulder brushed Poe's, and Poe tried not to read into it at all.

"So," Finn said after a long beat of quiet. Quiet except for the distant hum of the city, of airborne cars and people cheering in the streets. "You wanna talk, or is this more of a sit-in-silence kind of a situation?"

"Whatever you want, buddy," Poe said automatically. "You're the one who came to me."

"I'm worried about you." Finn said. Although he wasn't looking at him, Poe could tell he was frowning. "Up on the Spire, you seemed... I dunno. Off."

Poe laughed. He was pleased with how real it sounded. "I'm good. I'm so good. We won, remember?"

"Do you?"

The question caught Poe off guard. He bit his lip and tilted his chin up, looking out through tinted windows at the glorious sprawl of Coruscant. He swallowed a sigh. "How could I forget? Listen to those fireworks. Someone's burning a lot of credits on pretty lights right now."

"Yeah, I guess. But they make people happy."

"Not everyone," Poe said. He felt Finn's gaze on the side of his face and swallowed, ducking his head again. He pressed both palms to his eyes so hard he thought they'd leave bruises. "Sorry. It's just... Snap. I can't believe he's gone. And all the others, and Karé is..." He trailed off and sighed, shaking his head. "Everyone's celebrating, and that's great. That's fine. But shooting stars aren't always lucky, y'know?"

“Huh.” Finn was silent for a long moment. “I mean, I don’t get what this has to do with shooting stars, but I do know that you're drunk, and tired, and honestly getting an actual night of sleep would probably help. I'm not saying it'll fix anything, but it'll help. Trust me."

Poe leaned against Finn, resting his head on Finn's shoulder. He closed his eyes. "I trust you," he said.

"Okay, then. Get some sleep. You know where to find me if... I dunno. If you need anything, I guess?"

"Thanks," Poe slurred as Finn stood up, one hand on Poe's shoulder. "Seriously, Finn. You're a good guy. I'm lucky to know you."

"You too." Finn crossed to the door, his voice echoing in the empty room. Poe intended to get some furniture to make his new home less barren, but right now he was too tired to care about aesthetics, or lack thereof. "'Night, Poe,” Finn said.

"Hey, Finn," Poe called after him, falling back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. For a moment the little bits of crystal embedded in the stone tiles glimmered like stars in the silver streetlight slanting through the windows. "What were you gonna tell Rey?"

But Finn was already gone. Poe was alone.

Turning over, he dragged himself onto the bed, curled up, and focused on breathing. He stayed there until night surrendered to day, until the last bursts of red and gold evaporated in the light of dawn. He stayed there until he heard laughter in the halls, revelers returning from a night of drinking and celebration.

What were you gonna tell Rey?

As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't always known.

Sighing, he forced himself to get up and cross to the window. To watch the sky bloom into morning colors, a flag unfurling over a new day. We won, he reminded himself. It's over.

One last burst of fire in the sky, and then silence. Not all shooting stars are lucky.

He was lucky. He was the luckiest star in a sky full of billions. We made it, he thought, and for the first time since the war ended, he felt light, almost giddy. We're gonna be okay.

And for one bright, shining moment, he let himself believe it.

[fertileimaginationvault]

I Want To Know You - Superbat (DCEU Series)

Even though they seemed to be on good terms, Bruce never knew how to act around Clark. He never knew what to do or what to say instead of the endless repertoire of apologies echoing inside his head. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you in time to stop that madness before it took your life. I’m sorry for trying to destroy you. It should have been me not you... I’m not worthy of your forgiveness. I will never be worthy enough of it... Words that kept Bruce at a safe distance even though he never said them aloud. Instead, he hid behind a mask of impassibbility. Determined to ignore Clark's presence unless interacting with him was extremely necessary.

Bruce tried (emphasis on tried) but God knows how hard it was to act as professionally as possible near Clark, since the latter was determined to break all the walls Bruce tried to build between them. Actually, Clark's presence had become more and more frequent over time. He started to stick around a little longer after missions and meetings in the Batcave, sometimes to discuss details of projects for the rebuilding of the League Headquarters with Bruce (although Bruce tried to make clear that it wasn’t necessary), sometimes just to chat with Tim and Stephanie, also with Alfred who always brought him hot cocoa and cookies and always seemed pleased with his presence. 

None of that was convenient to Bruce's plans to keep the members of his new team at arm's length. Including Clark (specially Clark).

But it’s not like his family cared about his plans, anyway.

Bruce was not stupid. He knew his children and Alfred had somehow adopted Clark. The kids had movie nights once a month and sleepovers at Clark’s living room. They were always posting on their social media about gatherings at Starbucks and lunches at Clark’s favorite diner nearby the Daily Planet (Clark had become the star of Tim’s snapchats, but always being careful not to reveal his secret identity). Bruce knew about every Saturday afternoon playing Pokemon Go with Tim at the Heroes Park in Metropolis and sometimes inside the vast area of the Wayne Estate. And Bruce also knew that Clark was so determined to be back in the world again that all he did was smile brightly and agree with everything the kids wanted.

Time passed, and it came to a point where getting home and seeing Clark spending time with one of them was no longer unusual, either playing video games with Tim on the gigantic tv at the living room of the Lake House (Seriously? I rebuilt the entire manor so you could enjoy it, and you decide to play video games right at my living room?) or laughing with Jason about something only they knew. Helping Stephanie with dessert recipes she had found on the Internet. Talking to Dick about... everything (something Bruce was never really good at).  At first, Bruce admits it was kind of annoying to see Clark constantly in his house, being pampered by his children and his butler. Being a part of his routine. Being a part of his life. Clark could move around The Lake House and The Manor like he belonged there and that was starting make Bruce crazy.

It's not like he was jealous of his own children or Alfred. Actually, there was a part of him that felt good because they had someone like Clark around. Someone who could give what he did not feel capable of giving to his own family anymore. Bruce knew Clark enjoyed having them around too. And how happy he looked every time the kids were surrounding him, eyes filled with adoration. Even Jason, who was always out of everyone’s reach (specially Bruce’s) liked Clark. In the end, Bruce was glad. Clark was a better company to all of them than he could ever be. But at the same time it hurt to admit that he missed the times when they used to look at him that way too. Specially Jason.

Jason who now listened to Clark’s advices when someone needed to talk sense back into his head (which was a hell of a miracle, Bruce should acknowledge that). Tim who Clark was always helping with his school essays - They were always engaged in debates about Clark’s articles and the current political state of the country (something Bruce always liked to listen to, but would never admit it, not even to himself) -. Stephanie who always turned to Clark when she was going through a teenage crisis. And Dick who has decided that Clark was already a member of the family and no one could convince him otherwise.

In all these years, Bruce had failed each of them, burying them in his own darkness that let him see nothing but The Mission. But not Clark. Clark was like the sun coming out in the sky after years of stormy nights over the heads of the Wayne Family, shining down on them and showing the way to a new start. And what amazed Bruce the most was the fact that Clark wasn’t even aware of that.

For that reason Bruce never felt very comfortable with Clark being so present all the time, not only as the co-leader of The Justice League but in his life as well. After all that happened between them, his first assumption was that Clark would only interact with him during League duty, only talking the necessary for the sake of the team. And Bruce was fine with that. Maybe, they’d work together on a case or two, helping to defeat a villain in each other cities. But nothing more. Nothing more than a professional and pacific coexistence. He wasn’t in a position to ask for more than that. He would never ask more than that.

Even if he wanted more...

However, instead of what Bruce prevented, Clark was there. Always there. Bruce just couldn’t figure out why. Why that walking ray of sunshine was always in his house, strolling through the tunnels between the Cave and the League Headquarters just to talk to him. Why was he smiling at him. Why was he cooking for him and his children. Why was he always helpful, always loving and patient with the brats Bruce raised. Bruce tried to make sense of it but he didn’t seem to be able to. Why Clark wasn’t sick and tired of all this invasion of privacy? And why Bruce himself was not?

Clark on the other hand knew something was wrong in Bruce’s demeanor (more than usual) and confronted him one night at the meeting room of the newly inaugurated League Headquarters. He looked Bruce in the eyes. His blue eyes like two aquamarines filled with forgiveness and understanding, asking for forgiveness too. That was the first real conversation they had after Steppenwolf attacking Earth. After everything that has happened the night Batman and Superman fought each other and Superman died.

Bruce wasn’t used to that. Everything in his life had a purpose, a reason. Everything was extremely calculated. And at that moment with Clark staring at him with pleading eyes nothing seemed to make sense. Why was Clark doing this? Why would he want to be his friend?

“I just can’t understand you... Why don’t you hate me? Why don’t you stay away?”

“Because you’re all I have” Clark said, loud enough to shut Bruce’s mouth in a second before he could retort. “You’re all I have...” his voice was cracking although he wasn’t crying yet. The tears that threatened to fall, made his blue eyes even brighter. 

“You... your family... the team...” Clark let out a deep sigh before continuing. “When I’m around you all, it’s like nothing happened. It’s like everything was fine and the months I’ve spent in that grave were nothing but a night’s sleep. It feels like I finally woke up to a life where I’m part of something important.”

Clark took a deep breath in order to calm himself, wiping the tears before they could roll from his eyes. 

“The reason I got so close to your family is that I’ve spent my whole life being careful not get too close to people” he continued. “I was always being careful not to reveal too much of myself or my powers… I’ve spent most of my life being a ghost and now that I have you guys, I feel that I don’t need to hide who I am anymore. I feel that I can be around people who I can talk to… To share my problems and worries with… people who would understand them. After a very long time I feel like I’m not alone anymore” he finally paused to breathe, as if he really needed it, after throwing all those words at once. “I’m sorry for invading your space like that... I didn’t realize how much this was bothering you.” 

Bruce was standing still, staring at Clark without saying a word. He couldn’t think of any reasonable response for that. There was no contingency plan for that kind of situation, he thought to himself while Clark came closer to hold him tenderly by the shoulders, triggering all the alarms and red warning lights inside his head.

“Bruce,” Clark's voice sounded faint as a whisper, needy even, and Bruce had to fight a shiver down his spine. “I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable with my presence here. I didn’t mean to cross your boundaries, I only wanted to belong somewhere...” he looked exhausted. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy but being with your family is what has kept me sane lately... I can’t make Ma carry this burden after all I made her go through. I can’t talk to my work colleagues about coming back from the dead and fighting space monsters because they don’t even know who I really am. I know our teammates are not here all the time for they have their own lives and their own problems to deal with... not that I think you don’t. But after Lois and I... after Lois and I broke up...” he paused for a second, staring at the floor, lifting his head to face Bruce again with a miserable smile. “Well, is not like there’s someone waiting for me at home now” one tear was streaming down his perfect face. Clark wiped that away too.

“What I’m trying to say with all this is that I want to put what happened between us in the past” his expression went from defeated to determined, more Superman’s than Clark’s. “ I wish we both had a better relationship than this because I can’t take it anymore, Bruce. It’s draining and it’s not helping any of us. I can’t stand you looking at me the way you do every time we’re in the same room. It’s like you’re in a funeral! My funeral! It’s like you’re still looking at my grave. But I’m not there, Bruce. Not anymore.”

He squeezed Bruce's shoulders affectionately, making the other man startle at the action. “And I’m not a hologram either” Clark tilted his head to meet Bruce’s hazel eyes. “I’m alive and I am here in front of you. I’m just waiting for you to realize that” he stopped talking, getting even closer to Bruce who still looked petrified, unable to come with a response.

“Look,” Clark added, taking advantage of the fact that the other man was still silent. “I know I can’t make you let me in your life but can I ask you to give us a chance to know each other better? So you can finally know the real me? The one who’s not a God analogy and most importantly, who’s not dead?” he smiled provocatively through his tears, his eyes glistening with the artificial lightning of the meeting room. “Everyone gave me that chance. Even your family did. Except you.”

Clark lowered his head once more, taking a breath before he raised his gaze to Bruce's again, as if what he was about to say was not easy for him. As if preparing to say goodbye.

“But... if you still want me to stay away, I can leave right now. You’ll only see me when needed. I promise.”

Bruce took a few seconds before he could finally speak. He was not prepared for hearing so much from Clark, although that answered a lot of his questions. He was expecting Clark to yell at him. To accuse him. To call him an idiot and punch him in the face because that’s what he deserved. He wasn’t expecting a heart to heart conversation, let alone Clark apologizing. Why was he apologizing anyway? For being kind to me when I clearly don’t deserve it? For making this damn Manor a home again? For making the kids happy? Is that why are you apologizing, Clark?

“I...” he started to say, trying to make sense of himself again after being hit by the flood of words Clark poured over him.

“I’m not the one who has to give you a chance, Clark. It’s the opposite” Bruce let it out with a sigh. He was exhausted too. “I’m the one who should ask that... I’m the one who should ask you for forgiveness,” he clenched his fists, taking a deep breath before facing Clark, “even though I know I don't deserve it.” 

“Bruce...”

“I should have listened to you. I should have tried to get to know who you really are and let you know why I do what I do Instead of tracking you down and hunting you like… like... I should have known better than to be fooled by Luthor's schemes... I hated you. I planned to-I killed you, Clark...“ 

Bruce’s breathing was shallow as he struggled with the words. It was happening again. The anxiety attack. The physical discomfort caused by the memories of when Bruce found Clark's limp body, closed his eyes and wrapped him in his own cape to carry him to Diana's outstretched arms that would take him to Lois to say goodbye... Bruce had to find the strength to keep going. He owed it to Clark.

“You’re not like the others” Bruce found courage to say, looking Clark in the eyes, “I should have known that since the beginning. You’re not rotten inside like…” me. You’re not rotten inside like me, he wanted to say. “You’re not rotten inside like most of us… and that’s why I don’t understand how can you stay in my presence...” he said instead. “I failed you, Clark. All of you. I put the whole world in danger because I couldn’t see past the end of my nose. I couldn’t see the true before it was too late. Before I could prevent you from being killed. Before-”

Bruce couldn’t finish his crooked line of thought for Clark was hugging him so tight at the moment, leaving him lost of words and gasping in surprise. Wondering if that has something to do with being hugged by Clark or his super speed.

“Bruce,” Clark said this time softly in Bruce’s ear, “I forgave you a long time ago. It’s time for you to forgive yourself” he was gently rubbing his hand in soothing circles on the other man’s back in to calm him down. “We both made mistakes. I should have approached you differently, now I know that. However, I believe neither of us would ever go so far as to actually kill each other, You see? You tried to kill me but you didn’t. You didn’t listen to me sooner but you still did listen in the end. You saved my mother and fought by my side to save both of our cities. You helped me and Diana to defeat Luthor’s creature. That’s what I carry from that night. Through this time we’ve spent together, I learned to admire and respect you. That’s why it would mean a lot to me if we finally get along. Can we do that? Can we at least try?”

Clark’s words and hug let Bruce out of function and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was holding Clark tight against himself in response, like Clark was a damn life buoy in the middle of the ocean. What a lovely irony that was...

They were silent, only their arms doing the talking. Bruce didn’t know how long they stayed that way and he didn’t care. All that weigh was leaving his shoulders at last. The uneasiness and the sense of helplessness were disappearing. Clark was there in his arms and he was safe. And he could breath again. Finally, Bruce knew what it was to gravitate towards Clark's light and he didn’t want to let go.

“I need to eat at least six pizza boxes before I starve to death, can we please... Oh... Am I interrupting something?”

Bruce found himself letting go of Clark’s embrace in the second a very confused Barry Allen entered the meeting room. And after an embarrassing moment of Barry telling how proud he was of Bruce for finally starting to share his feelings with his colleagues and then leaving to ask Alfred for the pizzas, Clark (who was laughing very hard at the situation) reached his hand to Bruce.

“So… Can we start again?” Clark offered, looking at him expectantly, almost hesitant at the possibility of Bruce denying his request. “This time as friends, I mean.”

“Yes, I suppose” Bruce finally felt able to reply, taking Clark’s hand and trying to ignore the leap his own heart made inside his chest when they shook them in agreement.

“Thank you, Bruce” Clark's eyes seemed to glow even more brightly as he smiled at Bruce “Is there any possibility of you joining me and the kids for a movie night?”

“I’ll think about it” Bruce let his mouth form a smirk that made Clark’s grin even wider as it was possible.

Bruce did his best to disguise the fact that such a sight had made him lose his breath and his heart leap inside his chest once again.

Maybe having Clark around wouldn’t be so bad...

Notes:  - The songs that inspired this were Quiero Conocerte (Jesse y Joy); Llegaste Tu (Jesse y Joy); I Wanna Know You (Hannah Montana); - English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

2019 Geronimo Christmas Fics

That’s right, we’re doing it again! 25 new Geronimo fics published December 1-25.

The title? “That’s Christmas to Me”

The playlist? All Pentatonix songs

The theme? Well, why don’t you see for yourself? Here’s a first look at day 1

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

[[MORE]]

This world was dark, even for her tastes.

Physically, that was.

She could not yet speak for the metaphorical; she had only just arrived, after all, and rumors were nothing to base one’s perceptions on.

Searchlights were the primary source of light, their long beams stretching up into the dark sky, making a long sweep from one end of the metropolis to the other. If there was a moon or stars, she couldn’t tell. The searchlights were too bright to allow anything in the vast vacuum of space to shine down onto the world below.

Her boots crunched on the newly fallen snow, a satisfying snap snap snap as she made her way down the street. There was no question as to the direction she was headed. The building in the center of town was the one to which the searchlights were fixed, giving off its position with all the finesse of a disco ball.

Darkwarrior Duck might be the most fearsome of all the Darkwings in the multiverse, but he still had the same ego. The same lack of sense when it came to anything involving stealth or sophistication.

At least there was order here. Her simmering irritation was soothed at seeing how precisely the citizens moved about. Crossed the street at crosswalks. Cars merged with clear signals for at least 300 feet before changing lanes. Everyone stuck to their side of the sidewalk, eyes forward without any sort of technology out to distract them.

It was because of this — this enforcement of rules and regulations — that she was walking down this sidewalk to begin with.

She crossed the street with a few citizens and continued marching toward the building that set her teeth on edge. On her own. No one else was heading anywhere close to this part of town.

Dark ebony robots, the shapes of which resembled Darkwarrior’s head with claws extending out below their beaks hovered before her. What a terrible design. Their only option for movement was strictly airborn since they had no legs. And it seemed rather arrogant to shape something after one's own features.

Then again.

Look at their designer.

“Identification, please,” came the modulated voice. Weak and wavering compared to those in her own world.

She stared unblinkingly at the robot. “Ana Di Lengo.”

The robot hovered, bobbing up and down gently, completely silent for a few moments. “Error. Death records exist for one Ana Di Lengo. Identification, please.”

She sent the bot — and whoever was watching through it's cameras — a thin smile. “Death records exist for the Ana in this universe perhaps. I, however, am not from here.”

The robot fell into silence again. And moved aside as the door behind it swung open.

Complete blackness yawned before her, the building imposing and endless. She stepped through without a moments hesitation.

It was all for show, this grandiose structure. The security out front meant to intimidate the visitor and give them some idea of who they were about to deal with.

But Ana was not intimidated.

The blackness inside was not so complete that she couldn't see where she was going. The lobby was empty, a colossal curved staircase curling upwards that took her to the second level. Into a rounded antechamber, which also was empty.

The walls were fitted with large panels of glass, windows revealing the sprawling city around them. Pale snow blanketed the streets and buildings, dulling the lights that tried their best to illuminate the darkness. In the center of this rounded chamber was a circular platform, along one side of which were stacked rows of computer monitors like bricks in the facade of a building. They showed the city from different angles, some stationary shots evidently from fixed cameras and others moving, likely from robots on patrol, sending back their feed.

Within this half-circle of monitors sat one solitary chair. Padded. With low arms and a wide back. Almost wide enough to obscure the figure that was sitting in it. Almost.

The room was not so empty after all.

The chair was facing away from her. But she didn't need to see his face to know who was lying in wait.

“You're very far from home,” came a purr out of the darkness.

Ana came to stand at the edge of the platform, hands tucked behind her back and head held high. “Turn around and face me, Drake. Where are your manners?”

The figure stiffened either at her tone or at the casual name she called him. Whichever the reason, Ana felt her beak twist into a triumphant smirk.

She allowed it to fall as the chair swiveled around. No need to show off.

Within the plush upholstery sat a familiar figure. Wearing the ridiculous purple outfit with a large brimmed fedora in a matching shade. He had foregone the button down suit and substituted it with something akin to a jumpsuit that was belted at the hips. Military grade boots — steel toed by the looks of them — would have blended into the darkness if they hadn't been polished to a shine. The infantile cape was secured around his shoulders, tucked underneath sizable spiked shoulder armor, making him all the more imposing and broad.

There was still a mask secured around his face, but his eyes glowed red. It was into these that Ana stared, unabashed and unafraid.

As Darkwarrior Duck sized her up.

She in her own black uniform. Much crisper and more impressive than his spiked armor. Drake was many things; subtle was not one of them, no matter the universe.

“Are we going to discuss why you're here? Or is this a staring contest?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled and giving away nothing. She was almost impressed. Almost.

“Don’t joke with me, boy,” Ana snapped. “You can guess why I'm here, surely.”

Darkwarrior leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in his militaristic gloves. “It must be something big if the great Ana Di Lengo traveled all the way from the Posiverse to visit me.”

“Oh, yes, bravo,” Ana intoned, glaring at Darkwarrior down her beak. “Come, come, Drake. If we are to be allies, I must be able to trust that you can put two and two together on your own.”

He frowned. “My name is Darkwarrior.”

Ana narrowed her eyes a fraction. “Not to me.”

Darkwarrior eyed her.

She let the silence linger.

Silence is a funny thing. Everyone is quick to break it. It makes people uncomfortable, you see. The lack of noise makes them believe they need to be filling the void with something. If you stay quiet long enough, your counterpart will inevitably start talking.

“Allies, you and I?” Darkwarrior asked. “Against whom?”

Case in point.

Silence: a leader’s most effective tool.

“Against the monstrosity that is Gosalyn Mallard Prime.” Saying the name was like a bad taste on her tongue. Gosalyn Mallard had come into Ana’s world to be put on trial and punished for her rash actions of traveling around the multiverse. She had not only escaped her lifelong sentence, but had incentivized the people of Ana’s world — the Posiverse — to uprise and fight against the rules that had been put in place to protect them. Even Ana’s second in command, her own son, had gone against her and joined ranks with the Gosalyn from their own world.

Gosalyn Mallard Prime had ruined everything.

And Ana would show that girl the justice that was in the wake of such haphazard and reckless rule breaking.

Ana took a breath.

Patience.

All in good time.

Darkwarrior raised an eyebrow, still peering over his steepled fingers. “She has a big support system. To go against her is to go against them all.”

“Hence why I am here.”

Smirking, Darkwarrior leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You need me.”

“And your robots. When going up against repeat rule breakers, it's best to come prepared with the full force of the law.”

Darkwarrior Duck was grinning fully now, a cunning curl of his beak.

Another voice, however, came from the darkness. A slighter sound, weaker. “We can offer our full forces.”

Ana glanced to where the voice had come from and felt her fingers twitch at the sight, ready to grab a weapon. But she stayed her hand.

It was another Gosalyn. This one brown haired and softer. More reserved. She seemed to have some semblance of rules and etiquette, her hands hanging at her sides and her expression one of respect as she surveyed Ana with her green eyes.

Ana pushed aside her confusion — the entire point of the Darkwarrior universe was that a Gosalyn didn’t exist, after all, so how one could be here was mind numbing — and inclined her head. “Together, I am confident that we can accomplish our goal.”

“No violence,” this brown-haired Gosalyn said as she stepped fully out of the shadows and stood beside Darkwarrior.

Ana studied them together, the dark uncompromising version of her son and this girl who shouldn’t exist. Really, neither of them should exist. This universe was a blight on an otherwise perfect system.

But, desperate times.

Ana bowed her head. “No violence,” she echoed.

The brown haired Gosalyn nodded. “Then we will help you bring order to the Prime Universe.”

Ana sent a thin smile to the girl. “Might I ask who you are?”

“Christine.”

Still a Gosalyn, but going by a different name. Interesting. Ana would need to study her records to find out where this one had come from, for it surely wasn’t here. Could not be here.

“You have a bright future ahead of you, my dear.” Ana looked between the two. “Shall we settle on a date?”

Darkwarrior finally stood, gesturing off to the side. “We can use my consulting room.”

“There’s less potential of being overheard in there,” Christine offered, a smile gracing her beak as she led the way.

Ana nodded once in agreement before following the impossible girl.

P.S. Since I’m not taking requests for stories/songs this year for the main story, I will happily take holiday related requests from people if they’re interested. DM me so we can talk more!

[lillaxtrigger]

Young Hope: Chapter 27

The twinkling night sky glistens over the metropolis of Townsville, the Spicer manor lighting through the darkness as the sound of applause escapes its walls. Within the living room of the abode itself, a small crowd of friends and family applaud and cheer surrounding the oldest son of the estate; Kingsley holding what looked to be a gold medal in the palms of his hands. The cheers of the small crowd dying down, the boy genius reads the words engraved in the medals reflective gold; saying: “1st place in the Townsville national gadgeteers competition.” After reading the engraving aloud, Kingsley turns back to the welcoming crowd behind him, announcing to them all that: “An award that I couldn’t have begun to imagine winning these past few days. I can’t thank everyone enough for their love, their smart thinking, and their endless support. I sincerely mean it when I say I couldn’t have won this without all of you. Thank you.” “I was all you, Kingsley. You earned that reward.” Persi compliments. “You did such a fantastic job sweetie.” his mother applauds. “Way to go, Spicer.” Cayenne simply cheers.

Despite the almost overwhelming ovation the boy genius gets, only one among the cheering circle outright refuses to join in; Kingsley younger sister glaring through the crowd with her bleak and contemptuous gaze. Chloe’s sour mood only worsens when she witnesses their father approach her smiling brother take the golden medal from him and claim that: “Beating out the entire gadgeteers expo on the first try ain’t something any genius can do. How bout we put this somewhere everyone can see.” Venturing out to the bookshelf on the side of the living room, the father perches the golden reward right in the middle of the shelf; taking center stage next to a collection of various other award owned by his son. “Aw dad, that hunk of gold ain’t nothing. Its the people that helped me along the way that matter more.” Kingsley’s cheesy line causes the crowd to erupt in a whale of applause and laughter, the cheering proving to be the last straw that his red headed sister can take before taking her leave in a bitter huff; her mother being the only one to notices her departure.

In her stomping huff through the living room, Chloe fails to catch the emergency news broadcast playing on their television; the reporter warning that: “-advise everyone to stay inside their homes for the night. The coma epidemic that has been plaguing the entire city this past week is still ongoing and a plausible source has not been identified. Again, our station advises everyone listening to stay in their homes and lock any and all ways in.”

Reaching the front door of their home, Chloe readies to head out; her hand on the knob right when she hears her mom grab her attention with: “Where are you going, honey?” “I’m...I’m going over to Serena’s for a bit. I promised to help her out with her potions.” “Alright, sweetie. Are you going to be okay?” “I’ll be fine mom. I just need to go.” the red head states before making her exit. As she watches her only daughter close their door behind her, the mother can’t help but let out a worrying groan; knowing full well that Chloe is not as fine as she claims to be.

Strolling down the lonesome darkened streets of Townsville, the young red head can’t help but rant aloud to herself about on: “Stupid Kingsley and his stupid rewards and his stupid accomplishments. Its not like I don’t have any kind of rewards that I earned over the years, no. It’s always just about Kingsley, isn’t it. Of course everything I do just winds up getting swept out of the spotlight. I win the national spelling bee, he wins the science fair project. I take home the gold in the school athletic olympics, Kingsley gets all the praise for his portable fusion reactor. I get an actual A+ on my science test, my brother gets rewards on teaching the whole damn class on fission experiments! It’s not fair! It’s just not fair!” Despite her self pitying cries ringing through the entire block, not a single soul around is there to hear her plea; her screaming eventually dying down into apathetic silence. “You’re right. It certainly isn’t fair.”

The unexpected voice echoing nearby suddenly makes the young girl jump, Chloe’s gaze swiftly scanning through the immediate streets in attempting to find who has shared their sympathy; alas finding nobody else around. “Just keep it together, Chloe. You’re probably just hearing things. Nothing but your own imagination.” “Oh contraire, my young budding rose; I’m no mere illusion conjured by your young adolescent mind. Nay, you’ve been humbly graced by a being from the very heavens themselves; here to free you from your woes and ease your mind.” Despite shaking in her shoes, the young lady stands still in the midst of this new disembodied voice; questioning on with: “Why are you so worried about me?” “Because, dear Chloe; your brother isn’t the only special one in the family. You boast so much more potential than you realize. So much so that it could surpass your own brothers feats, leaving you the shining star in everyone eyes.” “Really...how?” “All that you need is already is already around your little neck.” The voice in her head revealing such, Chloe pulls out the amazon crystal tucked underneath her dress; its pink glow permeating through the surrounding darkness. “My crystal?” “Indeed. That little trinket you have holds underneath its silky smooth shell the awesome power of the gods, awaiting for you to unleash its raw energy into this world.” “It has that much?...I was only able to fly and make such small things with it.” “It can do far more than just that. That stone can do far more than you can possibly imagine. Such potential around your neck could surpass even gods, much less, your own brother. I can show the kind of woman you could truly be with such power under your control, all you have do is open your heart...to me...” Such a golden promise echoing in her head, the red heads entire body ceases to tremble as she stares upon the glimmering sheen of her amazon crystal; the consuming shadows around her fleeing from its growing pink light.

As the afternoon sun bakes down the rooftop of the blue boys abode, both Tore and Mally stand at their mothers own bedside underneath; their eyes locked to her motionless, sleeping body. The dark purple dressed witch doctor slides her hands across the moms body, gliding her finger towards her eyes to open them; the mothers pupils bleak and soulless. “Hmm...this definitely isn’t good. How long has she been like this?” Serena questions. “Mom’s been in bed for a day and half straight. I thought she was just tired, but she been out cold this morning too. We tried everything to snap her awake; shake her, cold water, smelling salt, nothing worked.” Mally explains. “We thought she might’ve been hurt on the inside or something; but no matter how much I heal her, she just won’t wake up.” Tore adds. “We tried phoning for every hospital in town, but they’re too busy to even tell us to fuck off.” “I doubt any of them would be much help anyway. Her body isn’t the problem here.” the witch doctor informs. “Its her soul, isn’t it?” all of them hear from behind.

All in the room glance to the door to find the purple merc leaning against the doorway, Roy staring to the mothers unconscious body. “Roy! You’re back!” Mally exclaims. “How’d your date with Roxy go?” Tore asks. To his blue brothers question, the merc can’t bare to make direct eye contact with either of them; his gaze drifting to the corner of the room. “Oh...that bad huh?”

Fixing his eyes back to the three, the purple merc continues to asses the situation at hand by claiming that: “Her souls isn’t there, is it?” “That’s right on the mark. Even with her body at its healthiest; without her soul dwelling within her, she’ll never wake up.” “No problem then, we just find her soul and put it back in. Should be easy enough.” Tore simply states. “If only it were. You say a day and a half has passed since her souls been taken. If it doesn’t get back to her with two more, then her physical body shall become malnourished and she’ll eventually… she’ll eventually die.” The witch doctors harrowing warning sends the trio in a frightening scare; all three of them gazing upon the comatose body of their literally soulless mother. “Roy, can you tell where mom’s soul flew off to?” the blue boy questions his purple brother. “I might. A few sweeps around the city might give us the clues we need.” “The hell are we standing here like idiotic asshats here? Let’s get lookin!” Mally declares. “First, we need to contend with a couple of migraines ready to bust through our door.” Roy warns. “What migraines?” Right on questioning such, all of them hear a loud crash echoing out from the living room; the sound of wood breaking filling the house before somebody scream: “Knock knock, fuckers! We in the house!” “Cayenne! Why’d you break the door down!? We could’ve just knocked!” “Those migraines.”

Racing into the living room, everyone discovers both Kingsley and Cayenne standing before them; chunks of the front door scattered beneath their feet. “Hey guys, you couldn’t have come at a better time.” the blue angel greets. “Mind if I kindly ask what kind of drugged enchilada dipping sauce you ate urged you two to reduce our front door into an example of cheap wood craftsman ship?” the merc question. “It was me.” Serena points out. The trio glancing to the witch doctor behind them, they find Serena with her phone out; claiming that: “I told them to meet me here.” “This is perfect. We could really use your help, I-” Before the blue boy could finish asking for their aid, Cayenne pushes Tore aside as she approaches Serena; soon questioning her if: “Chloe said she was crashing at your place last night. You seen her?” “What? I’ve just been sorting through potions in my basement the other night. I didn’t hear her say anything about coming over.” “Did something happen to her?” Mally asks. “She went out during a little party we had last night and hasn’t come back home since.” Kingsley informs. “You try reaching her through her cell?” Tore wonders as he rises, dusting off the splinters stuck to his clothes. “We’ve tried everything. Phone, voicemails, e-mail, social media accounts; nothing comes up. She’s never been off the radar on her social for this long before, my parents are going insane; they launched a full blown police investigation just to find her.” “And you sure she’s just not passed out in a ditch crying somewhere, cause a full night toiling in your own overblown teenage drama bullshit can do that to a kid?” Roy wonders. “It doesn’t matter what happened to her now. All that matters now is that you hustle your asses outta here and help us find her. Got it?” the spice queen demands. “Yeah, not to sound like a veiny throbbing cock here; but fuck that. We got our own problems to deal with.” the merc turns down. “Sorry guys, but Roy is right. We don’t have the time. We gotta save our mom before she withers away.” Mally adds. “Its alright guys. We get it. Hope you guys can save her in time.”

Out the broken down doorway, Tore, Roy, and Mally all glide out towards the west side of the city; leaving behind them their three visitors. As they stroll away from the broken down door frame, the witch doctor turns her attention to the boy genius and asks if: “Now Kingsley, do you happen to have anything on you that your sister might’ve worn before she disappeared.” “Uh, yeah. Gimme a sec...” After confirming such, Kingsley digs through his jean pockets to pull out a lone diamond earring; claiming that: “This is what she was wearing the night before the party. Its one of her favorite earrings.” “Kingsley, why did you bring that with us?” Cayenne wonders. “I figured bringing it to police could help them track her down. Couple of sniffs from their German shepherds noses would’ve gotten them running after her trail in no time.” “I can assure you that my magic is far more efficient then any dogs the police may use.”

Taking the small accessory from the genius, Serena clasps the earring in the soft palms of her hands; a soft pink glow leaking out from the cracks of her fingers. This enchanting glow soon ventures ahead through the suburban air, the trio witnessing the pink trail drifting towards the city ahead; the witch doctor declaring that: “This aura trail should reveal to us the path Chloe had taken in the last 24 hours. Hopefully, she hasn’t strayed into a bad part of town and-” Before Serena could explain any further, she feels herself rising from the concrete pavement; glancing to her side to witness the spice queen sweeping her off her feet. Ascending from the roadway herself, Cayenne grabs hold of the boy genius beside her; tossing both him and the witch doctor on her back as she declares that: “The hell we standing around like a couple of jack offs here for then? Lets getting moving!” All three of them left on the clock, the spice queen whisks both of them away from the calm suburban neighborhood and towards the deep urban jungle of downtown Townsville.

The trio flying past the countless towering skyscrapers, the boy genius is left stuck on his phone; quelling the incoherent blubbering sounding out on the other end with: “Mom...mom...mom…please calm down. I’m sure if the police are too busy to help us, then I’m sure we can handle it ourselves. We already have Chloe’s trail and are following it as we speak...Yeah...Yeah...love you too...Bye.” As Kingsley puts his phone away, the spice queen underneath him grabs his attention with: “Think that might take more time then you think.” “Why?” the boy genius questions as he gazes to the skyline ahead of them. Before the airborne trio, they discover another of the red heads aura trail venturing out in a different direction; Kingsley questioning the witch doctor with them if: “Uh Serena, this wouldn’t happen to be part of your spell, would it?” “It certainly looks that way. Maybe Chloe took a little detour.” “Doesn’t matter what the hell she’s doin; we just gotta pick one. Thinkin that the new trail can get us to her faster?” “I don’t think so. For all we know, it could be a route she took before hand. Lets stay on the one were following just to be on the safe side.” Kingsley claims. “Whatev.” Their course fixed, all of them keep to the aura trail they were following; the trio continuing to glide deeper into the urban jungle.

Following the red heads pink aura eventually has them reach Townsville’s city square; Cayenne stops in the middle of the air right before the square, causing her two passengers to nearly fall. “Ah, Cayenne! What happened? Why’d you stop?” her best friend questions. Once getting their grips back on the spice queens back, both Kingsley and Serena gaze out to the site that caused her to halt in her tracks; their collective jaws going agap. Woven throughout the entire city square like a bright pink spiders web, Chloe’s trail venture in and out its countless twist and turns; rising and falling across both its streets and skyline. “Chloe flew this much in just one night? That-That’s insane. What was she even doing going through here like this?” “The fuck is this clusterfuck? How the hell are we supposed to figure out where she went with this horseshit?” Cayenne barks. “This is quite the troubling predicament! I’m not sure any spells I can do right now can sort through this mess.” Serena admits. “You got any that might?” the boy genius questions. “I could whip up a concoction that would be more than up for the job, though it may take some time for me to brew.” “Just give us a call when its ready.” The boy genius suggesting such, the witch doctor leaps off the spice queens backside; dissipating in a wave of sparkles. After Serena leaves them, both Kingsley and Cayenne continue forth with their search; following one of the many aura trails woven through the city square.

Flying out from around the neighboring corner, Tore, Roy, and Mally continue their own search through the depths of the urban jungle; the purple merc concentrating as they glide across the city skyline. “You getting any kind of read yet, bro?” Mally questions. “Nrr...Still nothing…I’m starting to think whoever took moms soul might’ve dragged it outta town by now.” A frustrated growl escapes from their orange haired sisters teeth; the skater claiming on how: “We don’t have that kinda time! If they really did ditch town, then we’ll never find them like this. We need a lead or something to give us an edge in this investigation.” “More like a whole damn police report.”

While both of his siblings continue flying forth, Tore breaks right in front of the massive TV screen beside them, the screen broadcasting the news network as its reporter states how: “The coma epidemic plaguing the city this past week has exploded last night. Cases of over 6 dozen people left comatose in their homes coming in from every corner of the city.” Before straying too far ahead, Mally glances back to discover their blue brother left staring to the city square television; grabbing her purple brother with: “Roy, hol up. Think Tore might be falling behind.” “Dammit, again? Swear to Hera, if he thinks he sees a crack in the road that looks like a third world country again; I’m gonna smack him into it.” The duo retreat back towards their brother’s side, finding him captivated by the massive monitor perched over the town square; the black winged merc claiming that: “Christ sake, man; we’re on the job. Get yer sorry blue ass in gear and-” “Hang on, Roy. Look.” their sister implores; pointing to the oversized TV itself. As all of them gaze upon the ongoing news report, they hear the reporter herself continue her story with: “Hospitals all over town are crowded with all the countless comatose victims coming in, and the increasing numbers not giving them a single break. Even as the police are unfortunately still at a loss on who might be behind these escalating attacks, the boys in blue vow to not to rest until they catch the culprit responsible. I’m Jessie Blankman, signing off.” After the news broadcast comes to a close, a commercial for pine scented baking soda comes on; Mally talking over the commercial by questioning if: “You think all that might be related to our moms soul getting snatched?” “Could be a good place to get a lead at least.” the blue angel claims. “It ain’t like we got anything else to go off of.” the purple merc reminds them. A destination in mind, the trio rocket away from the jumbo sized monitor and further above the skyline; gliding north away from the city square.

“Yeah, no. You guys ain’t getting in.” Out at the front entrance of the hospital itself, a lone police officer prevents the trio from barging inside; standing against the entrance doors. “What!?” Tore shouts. “Fuck off!” Roy bark. “Why not!?” Mally questions. “Its cause the staff and police in there are way too busy taking care of all the comatose patients coming from all over the city. So unless any of you have sustained any life threatening injuries or know any victims inside for visiting hours, I’m afraid I can’t let you all in.” “As a matter of fact, officer, we do know somebody inside and we oh so desperately want to see them in their hour of need.” the blue angel dramatically feigns. “Oh really, mind giving a last name?” “Of course, dear police woman of the law. Its...uh...” While attempting to conjure from the bowls of his mind a plausible last name, the blue boy gazes around for whatever he could for reference; first catching a passing truck with buttered corn on a kob. “Corn...” The next to enter is field of vision be an open manhole, several worker attempting to redirect traffic as one of them accidently falls in. “hole...a...” He manages to craft the final piece of his faux last name by glancing to a sign on the wayside, finishing with: “Sign...” Turning back to the officer with a smile, the blue angel takes in a deep breath and claims to her that: “You’re not really buying this, are you?” “Obviously not.”

“Even if you don’t believe that bullshit, we actually do have somebody that has medical treatment.” Roy suddenly protest. “And that would be-” Before the police woman could finish questioning the merc, everyone proves shocked to witness the young purple teenager slug himself right in the kidney; the self inflicted punch causing Roy to double over in pain. After coughing out pint of blood from his mouth, the merc looks up to the officer as he moans and wheezes if: “Now you mind letting us in.” The officers shock swiftly deflates before the downed purple merc, the police woman dead face demanding that: “Please leave before I have you all arrested.”

Along the opposite side of the hospital behind the dumpster, Tore has his hand firmly placed along his purple brother’s side; a soft white glow enveloping the part of his waist as he screams: “What a big blue bitch! Practically spilling out my own insides on the hot concrete and she won’t ask if I was alright. Outta have her sorry sexy ass fired for turning down somebody in need like that. Fuck her with a barbed cattle prod.” “Since just busting through the front door is obviously not an option, how else are we supposed to get inside?” Mally ponders. “I don’t get it. Can’t we just sneak inside through the roof?” the blue angel wonders. “And have a ton of people wonder who we are. And why we’re there? Face it. There’s way too many staff on hand right now to sneak inside reliably.” “Not to mentions it would eat too much of our time up.  Unless we happen to have a police uniform on hand, getting through would be next to impossible.” Right in that moment does the sharp sound of a brief siren horn penetrate their ears; all of their eyes drawn to the nearby corner. Peeking beyond the hospitals brick corner, all three of them find the back of a lone cop car parked along the side of the building; housing only a single police officer inside. “Guess we found our uniform. Now we just have to find a way to get it.” Tore claims. “I think I might know how.” Roy claims with a devious grin. “Does it involve beating the crap outta that cop?” Mally questions. “Yees.”

From the comfort of his heated cop car, the lone policeman peels back the paper lid of his steaming cup of noodles; the aroma of vegetables and pork filling the inside of the vehicle. He digs his fork into a bit of the soft noodles dwelling within the cup, pulling them up towards his mouth as the steam escapes from within. Mere seconds before he could savor their flavor, a desperate plead for help penetrates the shell of his cop car; the officer hearing somebody cry out: “Officer, help!” Glancing to the side, the policemen discovers an orange haired girl right outside his window; hearing her further plead on how: “My brothers bleeding out behind the hospital. I can’t carry him by myself.” Hearing this, the upstanding officer swiftly puts his cup of noodles away and rushes out the door; promising the girl that: “Don’t worry. I’ll help you carry your brother inside. Where is he?” “He’s around the corner! Hurry!” Claiming such, the kind officer follows the young girl out beyond the corner of the hospital; rushing out to the other side as he informs how: “Hang on, son. The docs inside will patch you right...uh...” Perplexing the policeman, he finds not a single soul awaiting behind the corner; not even so much as a body to discover. “Hold on, where is you broth-” Just before the officer could finish questioning the girl, he soon feels the brunt of the purple angels knuckles punch him square in the face; the blunt strike proving more than enough to knock the man in blue clean out.

Hog tied and stripe of his uniform, the unconscious officer is tossed right in the dumpster; the blue angel shutting the lid and turning to his siblings to ask if: “So, you think he’s gonna be okay in their while we “Borrow” his clothes.” “Ah don’t worry. I’m sure the dozens of diseased ridden rats and cockroaches’ll keep him plenty busy.” Roy claims as he dusts off their freshly pilfered uniform. The merc then tosses the blue uniform over to his blue brother and demands that he: “Now get dressed, you’re sneakin in.” Catching the uniform in his arms, Tore wonders: “Me? Why can’t either of you do it.” “Reason Mally can’t do it is cause nobody’s gonna reliably believe that a cop would be that damn short.” This passive aggressive comment gets the purple merc a hockey stick to the head, alongside his sister claiming that: “I’m still growing, asshole!” “And the reason you can’t?” Tore persists. “Agh! Cause strolling around as an officer with one arm is just asking to get ya stopped constantly with: “Oh, how did you lose your arm?” or “You must have been some hero willing to sacrifice your limb to save someone else.” Like “Bitch, I ain’t got any of yo time for your curious bullshit! I’m on the fuckin clock! Move yo sexy ass’s aside; I got shit to do.” I’d just be that kinda Saturday night show on repeat the entire god damn time.” “Alright, fine. Just gimme a couple minutes to get dressed and get in there.” Requesting this, the blue angel ascends to the roof of the hospital with the uniform in hand; parts of his clothes fluttering down to his awaiting siblings.

Coming out from the doorway leading to the rooftop, the blue angel enters the polished white halls of the city’s hospital; tucking in his blue hair underneath the signature police cap. Passing by a hallway mirror, the officer impersonator stops to take a good look at himself in uniform; realizing that he pulls off blue like a beast. Still, that ain’t much of a surprise. We’re talking about the guy that combos with a blazer pretty damn well. Wonder if this uniform comes in white. Interrupting his self reflecting be the harsh sound of a child’s cry; the disguised angel’s eyes drifting off to the nearby door. Glancing through the doors window, he discovers a woman and her child at the beside of a comatose patient; the little boy left sobbing in tears from his fathers unconscious body. A saddening site that further drives the blue boys determination, though urges him to look somewhere else to let his siblings inside.

While venturing away from the occupied patients room, the disguised boy in blue hears a sudden voice underneath him filtered by static; Tore glancing to his belt to find the police radio going off and broadcasting another officer that says: “Officer Barbrady, come in. Do you copy?” Despite his initial nervousness, the indigo angel detaches the radio from his pilfered belt and opens communications with: “Uh...Y-yes ma’am. Just stationed at the Northwest hospital; attempting to interview the families visiting the comatose patients.” “Good. Stay stationed there to keep us updated on how many vacancies are left. Lord know’s there are only so many they can take.”

“Right, I’ll keep you updated with all that. B-Barbrady out.” With her fellow officer hanging up, the police woman puts her radio away as she gazes to the site of the break in before her and her crew; a pair of paramedics carrying an unconscious man out of their home via a stretcher from the broken doorway. Passing the pair of medics carrying the poor man away, the officer takes a good look at the door lying on the porch; taking note the untouched hinges along its side. A peculiar site indeed, especially counting no signs of blunt force or evidence of tools; almost as if somebody was inside and slide the hinges right off and put them back on. The question in mind being why exactly somebody would go through this much trouble just for a break in. As the police woman ponders such, she turns her attention to the other officers exiting the home; questioning them if: “You guys find any else to report? Any prints inside yet?” “Aside from the victims prints, we got nothing. You think with a seamless break in like this, they’d at least steal some loose change from the couch cushions; but absolutely nothing was stolen. No money, no tech, no jewels, no valuables; not even a single cent.” Hearing all this, a small growl escapes from between the police woman's teeth; the officer then claiming how: “That’s over the 50th case like that this week. We practically got the entire city’s force spread thin over this epidemic. Worse off, the docs back at the hospitals ain’t reporting anything wrong with them. It’s just not making any sense.”

Watching their investigation from along the roof of the building across the street, both the spice queen and her boy genius bitch witness something that the police fail to see; the site of their red headed sisters trail leading inside the very home they stand in. “And that would be the forth broken in house her trail has lead us towards. You wanna start assuming the worst or should I?” Cayenne questions. “It’s just not making any sense. What’s Chloe doing breaking into random people’s houses like this?” “You mean more than usual?” “Cayenne, I’m being serious here. We haven’t got a clue what she’s doing flying around town like this to people houses owned by people who’ve been rendered comatose; not to mention the site of police wherever we follow the trail not leaving the best impression.” “Kingsley, chill. I’m sure she’ll pop up on our radar sooner or later. Serena’s already workin on something that can trace her out.” “I’m not even sure we have that kinda time.” “The hell else are we supposed to do beside fuck off with dicks in our mouths?” “Hmm...We might have better luck if we go back home and get better equip. A couple of gadgets in the basement might help us out.” Claiming such, the boy genius rides upon the spice queens backside and take off into the city skies; both of them gliding out back towards the direction of the Spicer manor.

Back inside the white halls of the hospital, the boy disguised in lawful blue peeks inside another patient room; finally discovering one with a patient with no visitors. A rather pitiable site seeing this poor man rendered unconscious without so much as a single visitor by his bedside; but nonetheless making his room the perfect point of entry for his siblings to fly right on inside. The lone mans room proving the perfect entry point; Tore checks around to see if the coast is clear; darting his eyes around the halls for any unwanted witnesses. Finding the halls clear of anyone, the boy in blue rushes inside and shuts the door behind him; soon passing by the bedridden patient and right to the window. Looking beyond its glass, the blue angel glances down to find both of his siblings in waiting; unlocking the frame and sliding the window up.

On the ground floor underneath, both Mally and Roy patiently await for their blue brother to give them a way inside; all the while the orange girl persist on asking her purple brother on how: “So you not even gonna tell me how you lost Roxanne so fast? Cause last I heard, you guys were doing alright at the least. What the hell happened between you that night?” “And I keep having to mention that I don’t wanna talk about it. Seriously, can you at least give me the courtesy of a week to let the scars heal before prying right back in?” “I’m just wanting to figure out how it all fell apart. You were so excited to see her when you left and when you got back, you looked so dead inside. Why?” “What part of “I don’t wanna talk about it.” can I not get through your fucking helmeted skull!?” the merc aggressively questions, his tone taking the young girl back a bit. “Al-Alright, fine. You win. We’ll drop it.” “Egh...Sorry about that. It’s just been a little hard on me to get past; especially since it was about her-” Before the merc could continue to explain, both of them hear their blue brother overhead, announcing to them that: “Hey there kids. Wanna break into a hospital? Get yer 99 cent asses in here pronto.” Flying up to the floor their brother stands with the skater at his back, Roy and Mally climb through the open window; soon finding the comatose patient whose room they broke into. “Nice work, bro.” As the merc passes by his police disguise brother, Roy can’t help but correct him on how: “And my sweet ass is definitely worth more then a fuckin dollar, asshole...Its at least a hundred.”

Coming to the slumbering gentlemen’s bedside, the purple angel takes a quick scan through the man’s comatose body; repeatedly poking and slapping the poor guys face. “You think its like how mom was left?” Mally asks. “Yep, this poor bastard is just like how she was. Dead asleep and without a soul to speak of.” After inspecting the slumbering patient, the merc takes a glancing out the door’s window; his senses picking up a good few people inside the neighboring room gathered over what he finds to be an empty bed. Its probably a safe bet that its a family weeping over the condition of their loved ones; it be pretty damn stupid to believe them to be crying over literally nothing; a pattern that the merc can sense all through parts of the entire buildings. “And if the rest of the patients are anything like this guy, then we might have ourselves a good lead.” Turning back towards his two siblings, Roy goes on to explain how: “Whoever is flying around reapin souls outta people in the middle of the night like some vampiric asshole fresh of the cusp off discovering his crazed soul fetish is the same mofo that ganked our moms very own soul.” “Great, have any idea who it might be?” the skater questions. “Eh, not sure. Only really know a handful of people that can casually pluck souls outta people like a picking fermented apples from the orchard of a drunken fruit farmer.” Taking a turn to peek outside himself, the boy in blue witnesses staff roll in another comatose man through the white halls; a family of a woman and two children tailing the mans bed. A small smile forms between his cheeks as he declares that: “We might be able to find out. Time for this uniform to work its magic.”

Inside the room that the slumbering man had been left within, the doctor tending to the patient turns away from the comatose victim; gazing to the wife and claiming to the family how: “We have no idea what kind of ailment is troubling your husband, ma’am. All the tests we’ve done on the other patients like him have come up completely negative. I hate to say this, but I can’t accurately tell how long your husband may be in this coma for.” Hearing this news causes the wife to look to her two children, streams of tears welling in their eyes. “I’ll give all of you some privacy.” the doctor offers as she leaves the room. The door behind them shutting, the daughter of the two children gazes up to their mother and asks: “Mommy, will dad be okay?” “Oh, daddy will be alright. We just need to give him time to sleep.” “How long will it be until he wakes up?” the brother of the two kids question. “I’m...sure that it won’t be long until he gets right back up and gives us all a big hug.” the mom claims with trembling breath.

From giving her two children this false hope, she hears the door behind them open once more; the family glancing to the doorway to witness a lone blue haired officer coming inside to greet them all with: “Afternoon there, ladies and gents. How are ya’ll holdin up?” “Wait, who are you?” the woman questions. “I’m...with the Townsvilles police department, here under investigation on what’s been causing this comatose epidemic sweeping this fair city’s citizen. You think you’d be comfortable answering a couple questions?” “Oh...yeah, of course.” Once wiping away the tears in her eyes, she looks down to her two children and asks them if: “Kids, can you go to the cafeteria to get some snack so mommy can talk to the nice policeman?” “Yeah, mom.” Upon their mothers orders, the two stroll out the patients room; leaving the woman and the faux officer alone with their unconscious father. “I know how hard it must be talking about all this so soon, but-” “It’s fine, really. Maybe talking about this with somebody like you can at least give my family a little piece of mind. To know that someone out there is at least doing something to fix all this.”

Claiming such, the woman pulls a seat from the edge of the room as the false officer does the same; both taking their seats as the blue hair policeman first starts off with: “Obvious question outta the way: What were you and your spouse doing the night he was struck with a coma?” “M-My husband and I were in bed around 3 in the morning. I was feeling parched and my husband happened to have gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom; so I asked him to grab me a glass of water while he was up. While I was trying to drift off back to bed, I hear the sound of a strong wind blowing across my house; followed by the sound of breaking glass. I thought that maybe the windows broke, so I got myself up to find my husband so we could fix it. When I raced into the kitchen to go grab him however, I found him passed out onto the floor with bits of water and glass. As I looked through my kitchen for what might’ve happened, I look over to the door and I find it pried right off its frame with the hinges still screwed on. It still perplexes me how he wound up like this last night.” After retelling the events that transpired the night her husband was struck with a coma, a harrowing sigh escapes from her lips; further claiming on how: “The kids haven’t been taking it well either. I just don’t know what else to tell them. They love their dad so much, he means the world to them.” Despite his eyes drifting away from the woman’s last comment, the faux officer gazes back to the wife and presses further with: “I don’t wanna cause you any further distress then you must be already going through, but did you happen to notice anything peculiar when you checked on your husband? Something leaving the scene perhapes?” “You mean aside from the door being taken off?” “Clearly.” “Well, there was one thing that I caught the minute I found my husband. When I saw him on the ground, I notices something shining just outside my window. I go outside, thinking that somebodies out there; call the police and get a give them a good description. But the moment I get out, the light was already too far in the sky to see who it might be. All I could make out was a bright pink glow.”

From within the dark corridors of the Spicer abode, a bright pink glow reflects off the kitchen tile as it escapes into the black recesses of the manor; the darkened halls swiftly filling with light as the front doors crack open. Behind the wooden door stood both the boy genius and the Spice queen, Cayenne gazing to the shadowy halls ahead and wondering aloud: “The hell are your lights out for?” As both of them stroll further through the darkened halls of the manor, the son of the abode calls out to his parents with: “Mom, Dad. Any of you home? Did the police call yet?” The young boys call falls on deaf ears however, Kingsley’s voice echoing through the shadowy halls of the manor. “Think they might’ve just fucked off?” Cayenne wonders. Pulling out his phone, the boy genius takes a quick glance to his messages, claiming on how: “I didn’t get any texts. Maybe Dad’s in the basement.” As the duo venture further through the darkness of the manor, both of them turn on whatever lights they can; all the while repeatedly calling for both of the boy geniuses parents. “Mom, Dad! Where are you?” “Mr and Mrs. Spicer? You can put the explosives away, its just us.” In hopes of covering more house, the duo split apart, the spice queen heading towards the kitchen while the boy genius heads for the basement. Cayenne finally glides inside the darkened corners of the manors kitchen, gazing into its shadows to attempt and find a light switch; her eyes drawn to a lone hand breaking from the void. Curious of whose hand it is, the spice queen enters further in the kitchen; a horrified glare forming the further she comes in.

Creaking open the basement door, the light from the hallway above leaks into shadows below; the boy genius standing in the doorframe as he stares down into the black void of his underground lab. “Dad...you in here?” Kingsley calls out to his father, his voice ringing down the steps. With his call baiting no response. The boy genius prepares to descend the steps into the darkness below, carefully climbing down each step at a time. He doesn’t even get to a quarter of the way down before his ears catch the call of his friend crying: “K-Kingsley!” Hearing such, the boy genius himself swiftly climbs back up the bright hallway; soon sprinting across the halls as he shouts: “Cayenne, what’s wrong!”

His urgent question yielding no response, Kingsley hurries through the halls of his manor; following the source of the spice queens call towards the kitchen. The young man finally reach his rough and tough friends side, finding Cayenne left completely paralyzed in horror as her gaze is locked to the shadows of the tiled floor. Gazing into the kitchen himself, the young man is meet with a nightmare of his becoming a reality; a deep and primal glare of incredible dread forming across his face. Before the two teenagers lie Kingsleys own mother, struck motionless upon the kitchen tile and rendered completely unconscious. This dreadful site fresh before him, the young man sprints back towards the basement; Cayenne glancing to her departing friend as he retreats from her side. Rushing through the basement door, the boy genius jumps down the darkened steps in a single bound; landing right at the very bottom. “Dad!” he cries out as he flips the light switch. The lights above flood the entire basement with their glow; illuminating the underground lab and revealing yet another site that conjures the young mans horrible nightmares before him. Kingsley’s own father lying motionless across the workbench; the tools at his side falling to the polished marble floor.

Along the back of the hospital, the blue angel tosses his pilfered police uniform inside the very dumpster they left the hog tied officer in; glancing to his purple brother as he review that: “So all the info we managed to cope outta the victims families all say the same damn thing. That somebody shining a bright pink light around is going around and harvesting souls as fast as a farmer on the cusp of a nuclear winter.” “So we just gotta find and beat the shit outta this bitch and we’ll get everyone’s souls back; even our mom’s.” Tore claims. “If only it were that simple. We still don’t got any clue whose behind this soul stealing spree. All we have to go by is that the thief likes bright pink. Not exactly the best lead to go off of.” Mally reminds them. “Actually, I think I might have a hunch of who our culprit might be.” the merc testifies. “Really?” his sister questions. “Who you think it is?” his blue brother wonders. Just before their purple brother could answer them, the trio hear somebody’s phone go off; the orange skater pulling out her mobile device and checking her messages; claiming that: “Got a texts from Kingsley. Saying we need to come to his place ASAP.” “What for? Don’t they know we’re busy?” Roy questions. “He doesn’t say. Must be important enough enough to type in all caps though.” “The hell are we waiting around for. Let’s move!” Tore declares. Just as the trio take off towards the direction of their friends manor, a dump truck turns the hospital corner and pulls up to the dumpster; the truck grabbing hold of the dumpsters side and pouring its contents in the back, the unfortunate tied policeman tumbling right alongside the miscellaneous garbage.

Resting upon the Spicer’s living room couch, both Kingsley’s mother and father lie peacefully next to each other; all the while their son beside them gazes upon them with a mix of wayward panic and fear. “So, both of them were like this when you came in?” Mally asks. “Yep. Completely out when we got here. Tried everything to wake them up. Even smacking Mr.Spicers face around a couple times. Not even a wink.” Cayenne confirms. “I..I just-I...I don’t know how all this could happen so fast… Just last night, everything was going so well. Surround by friends and family after winning the biggest inventors show in town, I was the happiest I could ever be… Now...and now...my family is practically falling apart before my eyes. And I don’t know how to make it all better. I don’t know how to fix any of it!” In the midst of the boy genius’s panicking episode; his best friend grasps the boys backside; urging him to: “Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we can get through this.” “Who-Why would someone do all this!?”

Approaching the comatose couple, the blue angel gazes upon their still, motionless bodies; opening the fathers eye to find his pupil bleak and lifeless. Once taking a look at the two, Tore turns to his purple brother and questions if he: “Think its the same?” “Exactly the same. Like our mom and all those other patients at the hospital, both of their bodies are completely devoid of any trace of a soul left.” Pulling away from the boy genius, Cayenne turns over to the merc himself, questioning the purple bastard if: “Hold the hell on here people. You tellin me you three know what the fucks going on with this comatose bull?” “Sure do. Whoever stole our mom’s and everyone else’s souls just paid both of Kingsley parents a little visit here.” the skater explains. “And we might have a pretty good guess who might be behind it.” the blue angel adds. “Who you think it is?” Hearing Cayenne question them such, the trio gaze upon one another with worry in their eyes; Mally breaking from their stare and warning that: “You guy might not like hearing who we think it is.” “Please...just tell us.” Kingsley pleads as he pulls himself away from his parents bedside. The spice queen can’t help but look to the boy genius with concern, asking him if: “Kingsley, you sure your up for this.” “All I know is that there isn’t enough time for me to be sure. We need to act now if we wanna start fixing all this. Even if it may seem impossible, we need to keep going.” Her friends little speech makes the spice queen crack a small smile, Cayenne turning to the trio and demanding that: “You heard the man. Lay it on us.” When pressed to continue, a small hiss escapes from between the purple mercs teeth; finally claiming to the two of them that: “We...We think that the culprit might be your little sister.”

This shocking speculation reaching their ears, their determination is swiftly cut short in but an instant; their pupils shrinking to the size of peas. “What?...” “That...That’s….That’s fucking horseshit! Don’t fucking joke like that!” the spice queen screams, seemingly on the verge of lashing out at them at any moment. “Were...being serious here, Cayenne. All the friends and family of the patients I’ve talked to at the hospital gave almost the same story; that shortly after finding their loved ones comatose, they saw a bright pink light leaving the scene.” Tore explains. “I can’t make any sense of this. What would drive her to suddenly go around and take peoples souls, especially from our own parents?” “You two notice anything off about her before she went MIA?” the merc questions. “Well, mom did say Chloe was acting strange before she left, like she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset about something. She didn’t say anything that night cause of the party and thought she needed some time to herself. God, why didn’t I notice anything? I was so busy celebrating with my friends and family that I didn’t even realize she wasn’t with us! What kind of big brother am I!?” the boy genius self deprecates, tears welling in his eyes. In the midst of the boy genius’s potential breakdown, Cayenne grasp his side and urges him to: “Kingsley, relax. I’m sure we’ll find her. There’s still time to salvage all this.” “She’s right Kingsley, we don’t got time to break down and cry here. All of us need to work together if we wanna sort all this out.” Tore explains.

“Mind if I cut in this little moment to remind everyone that we still don’t got a way to tell where our little cherry coke culprit is at and we basically still have next to nothing to go off of?” Roy interupts. “Aren’t you the one with the senses and social decency of a dirty bloodhound? Why can’t you just sniff them out yourself?” the spice queen rudely counters. “That usually be the case, especially with how much power that little necklace of hers is carrying. And yet despite that, I can’t feel a thing. Can really only think of two reasons why; either she got the hell outta dodge and fucked off outta town.” “Or?” Tore wonders. “She found some a way to cover her tracks. And judging from the little soul harvest that happened last night, it’s probably more of the latter than the former.” “So what does all that mean?” the boy genius questioning. “He’s full of shit is what it means.” Cayenne rudely claims. “Still, even with all the people she’s been reaping, I doubt she can carry them all on her at once; especially given the rapid rate she’s collecting them.” the merc continues. “You think Chloe might be stockpiling them somewhere?” Tore wonders. “If that’s true, then how come you can’t find where they’re all that?” Mally adds. “Could be cloaking them all the same way she’s cloaking herself. Don’t know how though.”

“Alright, I had just enough of this bag of prepackage zebrashit. What the hell makes all of you so sure that Chloe doing all this instead of being in the hands of child trafficking psychopath?” “Oh, I’m sorry. You happen to know anybody else that can glow a bright shade of neon pink...No? Well then, may I courteously invite your spicy mouth to taste the jalapeno chili sliding out of my rectum?” “How bout I make you taste something else, you purple prick!?” Before the spice queen could throw a single punch to the merc’s smug ass face, the blue angel gets between the two of them; Tore confessing to the spice queen that: “Look, we don’t know if its Chloe for sure. But given the increase in coma cases since last night, it just something we should keep in mind.” “Imma about serve both of ya’ll a fresh hot can of whoop ass stew if you don’t shut yer damn mouths.” Its then that the entire confrontation is put to a sudden stop when all three of them hear the orange skater go off on them; screaming to them that: “All of you just shut up! We’re all on the clock here and we can’t waist the minutes giving each other piles of crap. If any of you wanna help us get everyone’s souls back and save potential hundreds of live, then can all of you kindly stop flinging yer shit like a bunch of fuckin monkeys!” Hearing such a booming outburst come from the orange skater causes everyone to grow completely silent; the spice queen can’t help but give her a little applause.

To his guest’s loud outburst, the boy genius takes a glance back to both of his comatose parents lying upon the felt of their couch; affirming to all of them that: “She’s right.” Kingsley gazes back to the rest of them with a determined glare, continuing to back Mally’s statement with: “If were actually gonna get anywhere in this mess, we need to stop fighting with each other and combine both of our investigations into one. We won’t rest until we find Chloe and who’s been taking everyone’s soul.” “Guess we know who’s callin the shots here. What you think we should do?” the blue angel wonders. “First thing we should do is try and gather more info on all this. A clue or two to point us in the right direction.” “Didn’t you say something earlier about the police investigating Chloe’s disappearance?” the skater reminds. “The boys in blue are workin on it, but I doubt they’d be much help. And I doubt they’ll be so ready to hand over their confidentials to a bunch of random ass kids.” Cayenne confirms. “Not unless you pull in a couple of favors from the inside.” the purple merc corrects. “From a merc job of yours?” Tore guesses. “Somethin like that. Caught wind of a little scandle involving Townsville’s boys in blue a couple weeks back. They might help us if they don’t want their shit to get leaked. The kinda shit that makes people wanna punch you in the throat and beat the juicy red organs outta you while gasping for air. Calling in a couple of those kinds of favors should get us hooked up with all the info we need on both cases.” “Sorry but, are we really gonna go so far as to blackmail the police to get what we want?” the boy genius questions. “Yes.” the spice queen bluntly states. “I-...Tsk, alright then. Guess I’ll stay here and read what I can from it all. It might be best for the rest of you guys to go around and ask our friends for anything they might’ve saw.” “Sounds like a plan.” Mally claims. “Gotcha, Captain.” Tore salutes. “Right behind ya.” Cayenne states. “Hopefully we can muster enough clues out’ve it all to fix this whole mess before it all comes tumbling down on us.”

Throughout the entire police station, the few officers within scramble through the insides in efforts to manage the oncoming calls and reports; the sound of footsteps and voices ringing inside the entirety of the station as they man the phone lines and carry in new documents. Taking the brunt of all this stress be the very captain of the force himself, glued to his private desk as he looks over the constant cases coming in; taking a couple of ibuprofen pills with his coffee in between his hefty breath. Come on, Captain Blanks; get a hold of yourself. Everyone in the city is hauling in coma reports and counting on you to get to the cause of this epidemic. Hopefully, we can find whose behind all this; for the sake of the city’s sanity...and ours.

In the midst of his constant work on the tablet, the intercom beside him sounds off; somebody on the other end informing the chief that: “Captain Blanks. There’s a private call directed to your office that’s attempting to get through. He says he’s a friend of yours.” “Are you kidding me, Jackson? Do we look like we got time for any kind of prank these teenagers have up their asses? Turn them down!” “Uh, the caller’s saying he want to talk to you about something called, uh...The Strawberry Jamboree of Mildreds farm.” Hearing this bizarrely specific phrase is all it takes to instantly send a freezing chill up the captains spine; the man left standing stiffly silent as the tablet in his hands drops to the floor. “Uh...Sir…Are you still there?” the receptionist questions. “Put him through.” “What?” “Now Jackson, and close the other lines!.” “Y-Yes captain!”

Once the captains receptionist hangs up, the cap’s own trembling hands grasps the neck of the private phone beside him; putting the phone up to his ear and hearing the caller greet the captain with: “Hi, Blanky babyyyy!” “What the fuck are you doing calling me at a time like this, Roy? You realize how busy we all are?” “Chillaz, big guy. I’m just calling in to cash in a little favor we settled on, that’s all.” “I seriously don’t have a single second to spare for you to fling your bullshit at me. The entire police force is up to their necks in constant comatose cases coming in from all over the city and we’re spread out thinly enough as is. I sure as hell don’t need another headache on me to worry about right now.” “Well ain’t that just a big coinkydinky for us all, ain’t it. A couple of my pallies and I are busy looking in the same exact thing; comatose people and all. You know we all have loved ones going through this shit, so you can probably understand. Which is why I’ll be needing to cash in that favor we agreed on a couple weeks ago on the farm; preferably in the form of whatever documents and evidence you guys managed to gather on the whole case. Sound cool?” “Are you being real with me? You’re just expecting me to drop everything we’re working on to sneak out confidential reports and documents with our ongoing case just to hand it all over to some random asshole on the phone? You know what that’ll make me look like?” “Can’t make you look any worse if the news outlets hear about all your little “guests” you took over at the strawberry farm.” “How the hell do you think I can haul out countless documents and reports from a hot ongoing case without getting my blue ass caught?” “I don’t fuckin know. Just copy a bunch and send it my way; it ain’t my problem. But it will be your’s if the entire state catches on with what kind of fertilizer their grocery bought strawberries are grown with.” “Nrrgh! Fine, just gimme a little time to work, kay.” “Thanks, blanky babyyy! Tell yer girl I said hi!” Their little negotiations ending with the purple merc giving a little smooch, the captain hears the line disconnect; the line ringing in his ears as a cold shutter runs down his spine. The captain slams the phone back on his desk as he waltzes out behind his desk; opening his door to face the sectritary on the other side and demanding: “Jackson, grab all the documented files we have on the comatose case, pronto.”

Standing to the face of a house stationed along the suburbs, the orange skater roughly knocks upon the front door; hearing from the other side a familiar voice urging her that: “Hang on a second!” After hearing this, Mally witnesses the door fling wide open to reveal the ice dragon herself; a slightly offput glare forming upon the skaters face when finding her snacking on a lone strawberry. “Oh uh, you. Nnn...Maylord, right?” “That-that’s not even a...” After stammering this, a small sigh escapes from the skaters lungs; continuing past the ice benders excuse to guess her name with: “Just look, I’m tryin to get around a little problem I have going on here. You happen to have heard anything from Chloe in the last 24 hours or so.” “Mind I ask why you wanna stalk her that badly? You that thirsty for cherry red coke?” The icy manipulators accusing questions causes the skater face to glow beat red; defensively flustering aloud that: “No-I-wh-Ju-It’s-it’s just for business reasons, okay!?” “Yuh huh. Sure.” Opal sarcastically agrees as she readies to shut her front door. Before the ice bender could slam the door shut, the orange skater jams her foot in the door frame; admitting to Opal that: “Fine. It’s cause Chloe went missing! She didn’t come home last night and Kingsley and the others are trying to find her.”

The ice bender hearing her sudden visitor claim such, she opens her door for the skater once more; letting out a little sigh before answering her with: “Alright. I might have seen something up with her.” “Like what?” “Well, I was walking back home from the mall last night after getting a pair of cute shoes for only half off last night; figured since I had most of my winter gear on, I might as well take a little stroll along the scenic route cause I haven’t had a good walk in forever.” “Is this gonna take long?” “I’m getting to it. Anyway, I take a little stop over to this small part of downtown; the place with the cute little ramen shop that do the chocolate fortune cookie. I figured why not grab something to eat since I mom wouldn’t be home until ten.” “So where does Chloe come in?” “Patients dammit. Before I could go right in, I look over and see her right across the street all by herself. I figured that she might just been lost or going home so I thought why not grab a bite with her; it’ll give us some time to catch up. As I was walking towards her however, I notices that she was talking to herself; all while holding out that little pink gem of hers from around her neck. And as soon as I found her, the red head just flew off without so much as another word. I’ll be honest, it kinda creeped me out a bit.” “You happen to catch which way she was going?” “If I remember correctly, I saw her heading out towards the east side of town. Don’t really know why’d she want to go there really. I hear its kind of a mess over there.” “Alright, thanks a bunch Opal.” the orange skater claims. Having finished questioning the ice bender, she starts to take her leave from Opal’s home; but not before glancing back to point at her strawberry and warn her that: “By the way, don’t eat those strawberries; they’re made out of dead people.” The sudden warning causes the ice girl to cough up whatever pieces of strawberry she has in her mouth; the pieces falling to her front step as she panics with: “Pffth, ah, cak! What!?”

In front of another home far deeper in the bowls of the city, the spice queen herself gives the door a less than gentle knock; a little green eyed girl cracking its wood open as she gazes to her bigger cousin. “La prima? I didn’t expect you to pay us a visit. Usually its the other way around when our papa needs a babysitter. May I invite you in.” “Hate to rush ya, Bianca; but I don’t got a lotta time on my hands. You all happen to know what’s going down to coma epidemic around here?” “I don’t know about-” “Yo Cayenne, I got somethin! Get yo ass in here!” they hear echoing from inside. “Ty, me hermano! What did I say about shouting in the house!?” A nervous giggle escaping the young girl, she glances back to her older cousin and offers how: “May I offer you some pizza while your here. It came just this momento.”

As Bianca invites the spice queen inside, Cayenne’s eyes venture upwards as she walks into the living room; an impressed whistle leaving her lips. “Holy shit, Ty. I figured you were all over this shit, but god damn.” Standing before the spice queen be an entire wall covered in, documents, notes, records, statements, and plenty and plenty of photo’s; all weaved in a web of countless strings. “Hell yeah, bitches! I’ve been lookin all this from top to bottom like some cracker browsin the wine section at Wal-Mart. I got me some juicy conspiracies here on how all this a ploy by the government for testing some kind of new military weapon on their hands like a bunch of damn guinea pigs.” “Yeah, that’s great Ty, but-” “In fact, the only reason they though of settin it off here is cause they wantin to see how many homies get hit with it. They seein if they can get anyone with super power to fall fo it too, hoping to snuff us out if we catch on to them.” “Ty, I need you to-” “But I’ve been on to those motherfucka’s since this shit started. Right behind them trackin every move they do, takin pic, doc, notes, whateva I got my hands on.” Once realizing she could get her little cousin to stop his indulgent theory ranting anytime soon, the spice queen takes a seat right on their cousins couch; a frustrated sigh leaving her lips as she sits down. Her littler cousin, Lequan soon comes in the living room with a whole box full of steaming pizza and takes a slice as he sits next to his older cousin; the spice queen soon taking a slice of her own as she waits how the storm of verbal diarrhea gushing from Ty’s mouth. Might as well, it ain’t like he’s gonna be stopping anytime soon.

A massive stack of countless files slams itself down upon a wooden desk; the impact of which makes the entire table tremble to its legs. The boy genius is left utterly bewildered by how tall the collection of police reports and documents that the purple merc had promised. “Uhn...not to sound ungrateful for this frightening amount of information to work with here, but mind if I ask which strings you had to pull to get all this?” “Mind if I ask you if your sexy twink ass really wants to know what dark secrets bellow underneath your city’s police forces that they’d kill to keep outta the public eye, or do ya wanna close those cute little blowjob lips of yours and get started on going through all these reports and documents that your precious purple pal got for ya?” It takes the boy genius a good few seconds to think of a response to the merc’s lewd question; constantly opening and closing his mouth until he finally requests that: “Heya, how bout you take the time to search through the city with the others a couple times. I’m betting they could use someone like you to help out.” “Alright, I get it. But just so you know, I’ll be waiting.” the merc claims as he leaves the boy genius with the huge stack of reports. As soon he hears the sound of his front door shutting, Kingsley lets out a spine curdling shutter; quaking in his shoes as he wonders aloud: “It must be a real story on how Mally wound up getting a guy like that as her brother.”

Facing another house nesting in the suburbs, the blue angel frantically beats the face of the homes front door; Tore watching as a small orange haired demon cracks the door open with a less than patient glare. “Heyo Alex! How ya doing, ya little demon? I was wanting to ask you if-” Before even hearing whatever nonsense the blue angel has to spew out from his mouth, the little demon slams the front door right in his visitors face, walking back toward his living room as an annoyed growl leaves his lungs. Seriously, there’s only so much irritating bullshit that a demon can handle at once; and that big pile of it just outside is something no demon should have to deal with. Better off digging through actual manure than delving into whatever kind of migraine inducing nonsense that blue idiot wants subjugate all of us through.

Before Alex could put that potential headache behind him, the sound of breaking glass soon reaches his ears; turning back to find the blue nuisance delving straight through the window. Witnessing his indigo intruder arise from the carpet in a mess of glass shards and blood, the orange haired demon backs away against the wall as the blue angel lumbers over; hearing the bloody blue dumbass ask: “Think I could I could ask ya a couple questions, buddy?” With his blue intruder slowly approaching, Alex forms a sharp blade from his trembling arm and warns him to: “St-stay back, you dimwitted oaf! I’m sharply armed.” “Oh, guessin your two busy to help Kingsley out, huh?” As soon as the demons ears catch the sound of the boy genius’s name, Alex’s frightened demeanor takes a complete one eighty; a sharp gasp escaping his mouth as his blade arm returns to normal. “My Kingsley needs me?” “Um...well, he’s trying to find-” Before the angel could finish explaining, he feels his demonic host grasp the collar of his glass coated blazer; exclaiming that: “What in burning depths of Satans own boiling bathhouse are we standing around like some brain dead urchins here for? If my Kingsley needs me, then there’s no time for us to gawk around! To the manor we go forth!” Declaring such, the little demon races out his front door faster than the angel’s eye could catch up; Tore watching as Alex takes off towards the setting sun in the horizon. Glancing back inside, the blue boy discovers the demons own mother sitting in the living room; staring upon the angel that crashed through her window. “Hi, Ms Utonium. Nice to see your son eager to help! Bye!” Once giving his short greeting, Tore charges towards the neighboring window leaps right through its fragile glass; crashing through as he yells out: “Yeet!” After witnessing the young man casually break through both of her front windows, all that Alex’s mother could muster was a frustrated sigh; pinching her forehead as her gaze drops to her glass shard covered carpet.

Back within the Spicer abode itself, Kingsley continues studying through the dozens upon dozens of police reports and document scattered across his desk space; the constant noise of paper sounding through the house as he scans through the files. The boy genius suddenly stops filing through the reports when inspecting two of them at once; noticing an odd and sudden change in the case reports. This doesn’t make any sense. According to the documents filed before the other night, the reports that came in had the witnesses describe something else leaving the scene; something leaving behind a rainbow like trail while fleeing. Why the change in color? Maybe to throw people off? The suspect might be changing, but something in most of the reports have been consistent all the way through. The vast number of comatose victims that have been coming up from all this have been primarily men, very rarely do any woman seem to have been effected. A rather specifically bizarre demographic to target; could be something to keep in mind when sussing out a suspect. Something else to note is which direction the culprit escapes towards; most of the witness reports claiming that they see them escaping out towards the east. Roy did say something about how they might be stockpiling them somewhere; a likely place they’d store them all in the east side of town. Even if given little clues on whose going around and reaping out people souls, there could still be a way to figure out where the culprit might be keeping them all. With all this, at least we all can wake everyone from their coma’s; hopefully we can do it in time before those not on life support don’t… This thought dwelling in his head, Kingsley takes a glance back towards the living room; both of his comatose parents lying peacefully on the couch next to eachother. No...It won’t come to that. We will wake everyone before they die. Even if it takes every ounce of effort that all of us can spare. This motivation ringing in his head, the boy genius turns back to his report littered desk and pulls out his laptop; bringing up an entire detailed map of Townsville right on screen.

The twilight lit sun shining at his side, the purple merc glides across the sunset kissed skyline; all the while pondering aloud on how: “It just don’t add up here. How can this soul reaping shit stain even hide from my senses. Hadn’t had much trouble tracking people down before. Think you can quit with the “thou must not interfere with the holy plan” bull of an excuse and actually help us out for once, Hera?” “I’ve told you countless time that there are rules that a goddess like myself must abide by. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t relay helpful advice to my messenger.” “And?” “As embarrassing it is for me to admit, I’ve had just as much luck as you have attempting to find this soul snatching suspect...or Chloe for that matter.” “You too, huh? Think they might be some kind of undead robbing people of their lives and eating them like screaming chunky beef stew.” “Believe me when I say that I’d notice somebody like that roaming around. Raising the dead is practically a steep taboo. Shouldn’t be much of a surprise to say how it doesn’t work out as well as people wish. No, I’d wager it be somebody whose capable of high level concealment magic. How else could they hide themselves from us?” The goddess in his head claiming all this, the merc’s gaze drifts towards the streets below; a discomforting groan escaping from his line. “A bit nervous, are we?” Hera wonders. “It’s just the small bits that are getting to me. The fact that I can’t tell where the culprit or the victims are, the sudden and unexplained abductions, the mentions of powerful magic; all if its just screaming to me in loud and weird profanity on how all of this feels eerily familiar.” “You think you have an idea on who might be behind all of this?” These familiar patterns ringing in his head, it quickly dawns on him who exactly fits the bill for it all; Roy’s purple eyes suddenly shrinking as a chill runs down his spine. “Roy?” Before the goddess in his head could speak any further, the purple merc turns a complete one eighty and rockets straight back towards the manor he flew from.

Slumped on the couch at her cousins place, Cayenne is about on her last straw having with Ty’s constantly spewing conspiracy bullshit; hearing the young boy continue on and on with: “That’s why they hopin to use these weapon to take over the African government to line their pockets, the crackers up top tryin to cut my brotha’s from right underneath them.” “Come on...” the spice queen utters. “And once they done with my homies, they gonna go for the Chinese next. Hoping to get their hands on the market and squeeze out as much as they can from their hoods.” “I really don’t give a shi-” “The last part of their plan involves finally makin this whole thing public and reveal what they been doin the whole time. Scarin everyone to do as they say and finally take over the-” “Ty!” His cousins sudden outburst finally gets him to stop rambling on, at last giving the spice queen the time to say that: “I ain’t here to listen to your constant conspiracy ranting. I’m being serious when I say I need actual tangible evidence on this case. Not one of your overblown theories; practical facts.” “Oh ho, you say my conspiracy game is bullshit; but I manage to snag me a couple a good pics. Including one with the bitch behind all this. Saw her sorry ass leavin a scene of the crime just last night.” “Wait, “Her”? Ty, what did you see?”

“Right so check it. I was going around town under one of my investigations into this shit. Trackin the patterns of which homes she was hittin.” “You mean you just stumbled on it?” “While going through one of the neighborhoods, caught myself a little pink light landin nearby, went to check it out. Wind up flying to the next street over and found the glowing girl leaving just as fast from one of the homes. As the pink bitch was flyin off, I pull out my phone and got me a pic of her.”

Gazing upon her cousins phone, Cayenne finds on the screen a sort of blurry photo of a shadowy figure surrounded in glowing pink trail through the night sky. “This it?” she wonders. “I...Well...Th-the hell did you expect in the midst of the action. This line of work ain’t about quality. Lucky I wound up getting what I did before the bitch flew off. Took off faster than a damn Lamborgini going down the hood at night, just racin to get outta there.” Inspecting the photo closely, Cayenne is able to make out some specifics of the runaway culprit; looking around to be a young teenage girl with long hair reaching her mid waist. Though she can’t make out much else from the womans figure underneath the shadows; she can tell that the source of the bright pink glow seems to be emanating from around her neck. These details fail to paint a hopeful picture for the spice queen, the voices of the merc and his two siblings claiming who the culprit may be ringing in her head. “Ty. Could you make out anything else? Like something about her hair?” Cayenne seriously question. “Well, seein as I got your attention. I was think that we could figure out what those CIA bitches be up to-” Interupting her cousins words, Cayenne grabs hold of Ty shoulders and brings him face to face; firmly questioning him: “What color was the hair, Tyquell?” “Damn girl, chill! It was red, kay. The hell’s the big deal for?” Having confirmed a wavering fear in head, Cayenne puts her cousin down and almost immediately sprints for the door; breaking down the door just as Bianca heads inside. “Aw, prima Cayenne leaving already. I was just finished making churro’s for us.”

As the spice queen speeds through the sunset kissed skies, she pulls out her phone and quickly attempts to call her best friend; hearing the dial go off on the other end. “Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up.” Unfortunately for her, Kingsley fails to answer; his phone going straight to voicemail. “God dammit, Kingsley! Why won’t you answer!? This is something you need to hear.”

Dwelling within the dimly lit recesses of the Spicer abode, the young boy genius’s phone is left on silent as he peruses through the dozens of documents littering his desk. On the screen of his laptop lay the map of Townsville, with several lines and points decorating the east side of the city. “It has to be somewhere around there. The reports all mention what direction the suspect is going, all them pointing towards a general direction. But where are they putting the souls, they have to hold them somewhere big enough to fit all of them; somewhere nobody would bat an eye to...Wait...” Its in pondering such that he glances to the papers once more, taking another look at the report to read on the exact directions the witnesses claimed the suspect was heading. It all then dawns on him; rapidly sliding over to his laptop and gliding the mouse to the east part of the map as he claims that: “I know where they are.”

Just before he could circle the location he has in mind, the side of his bedroom wall suddenly busts inward; enveloping the entire room in a thick cloud of wall dust. As he coughs up the puffs of dust, the boy genius races out towards the direction of his door; reaching his arm out to its handle as he sprint. Just inches from the doorknob, a wayward pink beam blasts off the handle; keeping Kingsley from escaping. With nowhere to run, the boy genius gazes towards the light permeating from the dissipating clouds; witnessing a single floating figure slowly glide in. “No...No…Why?” Kingsley utters as he backs against the face of his shut door, the approaching figures bright pink light blanketing his own. Above the brightly lit stone hanging around the intruders neck formed a sinister grin; her red lock flowing along the sides of the young girls pink dress.