#NOT THE MASQUERADE UPDATE attacking me on the first few SECONDS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brain-leakage-blog · 6 years

Text

Running Castlevania with Old School D&D, Part 5

This is part of a continuing series. For part one, click here. For part two, click here. For part three, click here. And for part four, click here.

While the previous posts in this series have mainly been concerned with showing how to adapt Lamentations of the Flame Princess' various character classes to Castlevania-appropriate archetypes, this post will handle the setting of Transylvania itself. And while I dipped into Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse and Symphony of the Night to build a D&D style adventuring party with, neither game really offers much in the way of setting material outside the castle.

For that, I'm going to go back a little farther into the franchise's history, to the much-maligned proto-Metroidvania, Castlevania II: Simon's Quest.

Please, hold all torches and pitchforks until the end.

Just a brief side note: If I really were to run a Castlevania-themed campaign for a group of PC's, I'd probably lean heavily on Simon's Quest to do it with. While the 8-bit NES wasn't quite up to the developers' ambitions, the game has some good bones to build off of.

I would probably have the players roll up original characters, with at least one being the next heir to the Belmont line. I'd have the game take place a few years after one of the "major" Dracula battles outlined in the main series, and have the Belmont player character's relative be suffering from the same curse Simon did: The wounds taken in his battle against Dracula are not healing. He is slowly dying. As his condition worsens, he has visions of becoming a creature of the night. A fortune-teller reveals the truth. If he dies before the next full moon, he will become a vessel for Dracula to be re-born, stronger than ever. The only way to lift the curse is to bring Dracula's spirit back into its previous body. But Dracula's minions have scattered his remains, to ensure that his curse will run its course.

Honestly, the only major difference in the set-up would be that the "cursed" Belmont wouldn't be accompanying the PCs. I'd hole him up in the basement of a church, surrounded by garlic and crosses, with monks praying over him day and night. It would then be up to the group of relatively green and inexperienced adventurers to run a desperate race against the clock, with only minimal guidance from their mentor.

(I'd also make sure that the enemy kidnapped the cursed Belmont as the night of the full moon approached, giving the PC's one more thing to worry about. But that's just me...)

Anyway, there are a few resources I'd recommend using here. First and foremost is A Guide to Transylvania, which I mentioned back in my Alucard post. The PDF is available on DriveThruRPG for about eight bucks. The crunch inside is AD&D 2e specific, but everything else is system agnostic. This book details everything from Transylvanian history, to peasant superstitions, to secret societies. No other supplement will help you fill in the details of the Transylvanian countryside as well as this one.

The second (more expensive) resource is the current D&D 5e Curse of Strahd campaign book, which is an update and expansion of the original Ravenloft module. Why this one instead of the (many) older ones? First, it's widely available in hardcopy. And while I'm not completely in love with what I've seen of 5e's rules, you just can't deny that Wizards of the Coast puts out a high quality product these days. This thing will survive some wear and tear at the table. Second (and more importantly), it maps out and expands the land of Barovia far beyond what the older editions did.

The third (completely free) resource is the Transylvania map that appeared in the old NES Game Atlas. A high-quality scan is available here at castlevaniadungeon.net.

The simplest, easiest way to take care of mapping the Transylvania countryside is just to use the foldout map that comes with Curse of Strahd and swap out the names. For example, swap out the starting village of Jova from Simon's Quest with the Village of Barovia from Curse of Strahd. Swap out Yomi—the nearly-abandoned town just outside Castlevania—with the destroyed village of Berez.

While this won't be 100% faithful to the geography on the Castlevania map, enough of the landmarks in Simon's Quest have a rough Barovian equivalent to make it work. Below are some suggestions, with corresponding map and page references.

Castlevania Location / Barovia Location / Curse of Strahd Foldout Map Location / Curse of Strahd Page Reference

Town of Jova (Area 1) / Village of Barovia / Location E / Page 40 - 48

Town of Aljiba (Area 16) / Village of Valliki / Location N / Page 95 - 124

Yuba Lake (Area 14) / Lake Zarovich / Location L / Page 38

Town of Veros (Area 6) / Village of Krezk / Location S / Page 143 - 156

Town of Yomi (Area 48) / Ruins of Berez / Location U / Page 161 - 166

Laruba Mansion (Area 36) / Wachterhaus / N/A (Located in Vallaki) / Page 110 - 115

Brahm Mansion (Area 21) / Argynvostholt / Location Q / Page 129 - 142

That should be enough to get the idea. That said, I'd probably also swap out some of the obviously non-European names with some real-world Transylvanian ones. Targoviste for Aljiba, for example.

One pro to this approach is that it requires relatively little prep time, especially for an inexperienced DM. Curse of Strahd has plenty of fleshed-out NPCs, side-quests, and description boxes for just about every building and room, if you decide to use them. You can use the encounters, too. Stat conversions from 5e to LotFP are simple: Just use the closest equivalent monster from the free Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game, and add two to the creature's Armor Class. Don't sweat the other details.

Me? I probably wouldn't go that far. I'd probably just use the maps, crib or ad-lib all of the descriptions from the Transylvania Guide, and wing it with the NPCs and encounters. Similarities aside, Castlevania and Ravenloft are two different properties, with two entirely different feels to them. Relying too heavily on the published material just means you're playing Curse of Strahd. Which is okay. But it isn't Castlevania.

Which, of course, leaves open the question of Castlevania itself.

The Castle Ravenloft layout in Curse of Strahd is unchanged from the original I:6 Ravenloft module. It makes a perfectly serviceable stand-in for Dracula's Castle, provided you're taking your inspiration from the first couple of games. But if you want something closer to the sprawling, changing, living embodiment of Chaos featured in Symphony of the Night and most of the later games, you'd be better off creating your own funhouse-style Mega-dungeon. As with anything, which you choose will depend heavily on your group, their preferences, and their play style.

Before I close this installment out—and since I'm already mining Castlevania II for ideas—I'm going to give some sample stats for that game's two Boss monsters. For Carmilla, I used the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game version of the Vampire, with almost no modifications. For Death, I re-skinned the BFRPG Lich, added a bunch of Hit Dice, and swapped out his spell casting for a handful of specific, spell-like abilities.

If neither one seems challenging enough, both are easy enough to scale up in power. After all, when it comes to "end game" content, you're bound to have a pretty high level party. Watching them effortlessly steamroll the final bosses would be sort of anticlimactic. If that's a concern, my personal preference is to creatively choose the location for the encounter.

Instead of meeting Carmilla in her vampire lair right away, why not have the PC's encounter her at a masquerade ball, using the powers of her enchanted mask to appear as one of the living? Force them to use roleplaying and guile to maneuver her to a place they can fight her without harming innocents. What about having the PC's run into Death on the grounds of an old battlefield or cemetery? He could raise dozens of allies among the dead, forcing even the most powerful group of PCs into a pitched battle for survival.

Granted, if you're planning to use Castlevania II as your template, you could always just let the PC's walk right by them with no consequence...

(Note: the Lamentations of the Flame Princess rules assume ascending armor class and a base, unarmored AC of 12. If using these creatures with a system that has a base AC of 10, simply subtract 2.)

CARMILLA

Alignment: Chaotic

Armor Class: 21

Hit Dice: 9 (attack bonus +8)

No. of Attacks: 1 weapon or special

Damage: 1d8, or by weapon, or special

Movement: 40' or 60' (fly)

No. Appearing: 1 (Unique)

Save as: Lvl 9 Fighter

Morale: 11

Treasure Type: Special

XP: 1,225

Beautiful, vain, and cruel, the aristocratic vampire Carmilla is one of Dracula's most ambitious servants. Famous for her inventive and sadistic tortures, she is best known for bathing in the blood of young women. She possesses Carmilla's Mask, a powerful, cursed artifact.

Like all vampires, Carmilla casts no shadow and no reflection. She cannot cross running water, and may not enter another's home unless invited. She cannot tolerate the strong odor of garlic, and will recoil from a mirror or from a cross presented with conviction (for more information on these weaknesses, see the Vampire, p. 124 of the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game).

Carmilla is immune to Sleep, Charm, and Hold spells. If unarmed, she will treat her hands like claws, raking her target for 1d8 damage. When armed, her vampiric strength gives her an additional +3 to damage when using melee weapons. Her bite (though seldom used in combat) inflicts 1d3 damage, and drains one level of energy from her target for each round she continues to feed. Feeding places her in a vulnerable position, and she suffers a -5 to her Armor Class.

Victims reduced to 0 hit points by Carmilla's feeding die, and they will rise as vampires during the next sunset. These new vampires are permanently under Carmilla's control, and always act as if under a Charm spell.

Carmilla can command common nocturnal creatures. Once per day, she can summon 10d10 rats, 5d4 giant rats, 10d10 bats, 3d6 giant bats, or 3d6 wolves. The creatures must be nearby to be summoned. Once called, they arrive in 2d6 rounds and obey her commands for 1 hour. If she chooses, Carmilla can also assume the form of a giant bat or a giant wolf at will.

In addition to the above abilities, Carmilla also shares the common vampire's Charm gaze, which her victims can save vs Spell to resist. Unlike her more common brethren, Carmilla's charm is exceptionally powerful, imposing a -3 penalty rather than the standard -2.

Carmilla cannot be harmed by non-magical weapons. Exposing her to direct sunlight for more than 1 round destroys her, and submerging her in running water causes her to lose 1/3 of her Hit Points per round for three rounds, with death occurring on the third round. Any other method of reducing her HP to 0 merely incapacitates her, causing her to fall into an apparently death-like state. But if her body is not exposed to sunlight, submerged in running water, or burned, she will begin to regenerate 1d8 hours later, at a rate of 1 hp per turn.

Carmilla's Mask (Artifact)

This artifact is a smooth, silver mask, closely resembling the kind commonly worn during masquerade balls. When the mask is placed onto a human or a dhampir, dozens of hollow, silver spikes appear in the inside, causing it to latch onto the victim's face, and inflicting 1d3 damage. Each round the victim is prevented from removing the mask, it drains 1 energy level, feeding as a vampire, until the victim is reduced to 0 Hit Points. Once dead, the victims do not rise as vampires.

If the mask is freshly fed, bloody tears will pool in the corner of its eyes, and for the next 1d12 hours it will convey several abilities on any vampire that wears it. While wearing the mask, the vampire casts both a shadow and a reflection. Garlic, holy symbols, and holy water have no effect. The vampire may enter any home with no invitation, cross running water, and even walk in the sunlight—although this last will still be uncomfortable.

Additionally, victims of the vampire's Charm gaze suffer a further -2 penalty to their saving throw.

DEATH

Alignment: Chaotic

Armor Class: 26

Hit Dice: 15 (attack bonus +10)

No. of Attacks: 1 touch, weapon.

Damage: 1d8 touch+drain, by weapon.

Movement: 30' or 60' (fly)

No. Appearing: 1 (Unique)

Save as: Lvl 15 Magic User or Cleric (use lower)

Morale: 11

Treasure Type: Special

XP: 3,150

Death is Dracula's top lieutenant. Fiercely loyal to his master, Death will fight to protect him at all costs. Death's actual nature is unknown, although he is believed to be an evil manifestation of pure Chaos. His physical form resembles that of the classical "Grim Reaper," a skeletal body wrapped in a tattered cloak. He carries Death's Scythe, an artifact-level magical weapon.

Upon first encountering Death, all intelligent, living creatures must save vs Spell or flee in terror for 2d6 rounds. Even on subsequent encounters, Death's gaze is terrifying. All creatures that meet it must make a save vs. Spell or be paralyzed with fright for 2d4 rounds. Dhampirs, due to their half-undead nature, get a +2 bonus to this check.

Death prefers to attack with his scythe when possible. If forced to make a physical attack, his touch causes 1d8 points of damage and drains 1d4 points of Constitution, while simultaneously healing him for the equivalent amount.

The Constitution loss is permanent. It can only be healed by the casting of a Restoration spell, at a rate of 1 point per casting. If a character's Constitution score falls to 0, he or she immediately dies, and rises the following round as a lesser wight. This creature is identical to the wight described on p. 126 of the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game, except its attack causes 1d4 points of damage and 1 point of Constitution loss. All characters killed and transformed into wights are considered permanently dead, and cannot be Raised. They may still be Reincarnated.

Death is able to cast Speak With Dead, Animate Dead, and Raise Dead at will. And while he rarely feels the need to disguise himself, he is able to do so with the aid of Polymorph Self. Additionally, Death is always treated as having an active True Seeing spell cast on his person. For purposes of spell duration and saving throws, Death's caster level is 20.

Death is immune to all non-magical weapons. Like all skeletons, Death only takes half damage from bladed weapons, and only one point from arrows, bolts, or sling stones (plus any applicable magical bonus). Additionally, he is immune to Sleep, Charm, and Hold spells. Death cannot be turned by the cleric's Turn Undead spell.

Death cannot be permanently killed. When reduced to 0 Hit Points, Death's physical form is destroyed, and his spirit re-joins the primordial Chaos outside the world. After 1d10 months, Death will Reincarnate on the physical plane, although in a weakened form equivalent to a wraith (see Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game, p. 127). He must then drain the equivalent life force of 2x his normal Hit Dice (a combined 30 levels) in order to regain his full strength and powers.

Death's Scythe (+3 Great Weapon)

Like Death himself, Death's Scythe is believed to be an evil manifestation of Chaos. In combat, Death's Scythe delivers 1d10 damage, with an additional +3 magical damage bonus. On any natural attack roll of 18 or better, the target must save vs Magical Device or die instantly. Any mortal being who attempts to touch the handle of Death's Scythe must make the same saving throw, but at a -4 penalty.

3 times per day, Death's Scythe can create 1d3 Phantom Sickles. These are smaller, ghostly sickles that spin out towards their intended victim. The sickles last for 1d4 rounds, continuously attacking, and causing 1d6+1 damage per successful hit.

Creatures killed with Death's Scythe may not be Raised, but they may still be Reincarnated.

#brain leakage blog #Castlevania #ravenloft #curse of strahd #dnd #dungeons and dragons #OSR #basic fantasy roleplaying game #d&d #carmilla #death #gothic #horror #lamentations of the flame princess

1 note · View note

dispatchsolaris-blog · 6 years

Text

A Cosmic Masquerade -Prologue

Prologue

After all this time I spent trying to save her. Now I am left with the hardest decision of my life, and this is the start of that story. I spent my time in my home town, so I can look over my parents and my relatives here and to protect them from any danger. Being one of the few children my parents had I was the unlucky one and got stuck with this responsibility. My brothers and sister are living their lives like I used to, but after a serious injury I was foolish enough to come to our parents house to take care of dad. My father and I were never close. He was always working and I spent most of my life trying to impress him and gain his approval. The best example of wasted time I can think of, but the day I heard he got hurt I instantly rushed to his side. I stayed with him for weeks doing everything I could to make his condition better. After months of healing he was finally able to talk again, and of course the first thing he says is “I should’ve known you would come here Johnathan. You were always too desperate for my approval. You should be more like your little sister, Samantha. Look at her. She is off on her own making a living without her parents to worry about. She moved out to Valbarrow the first chance she got and hasn’t looked back, not even for a second. What happened with you John? Did I not raise you right?”. I swear the more he talks the more I want to to lose control and take my anger out on him. For some reason, my brothers and I were all failures compared to Sam. She could do absolutely no wrong in his eyes. It was always “Why cant you be more like Sam”, “Well Sam was able to do this”, “I swear Sam is the only one of my kids who I am proud of”. She never even worked for his affection. I was jealous of her for most of my life, but she told me “I don’t even like being praised by father Johnny, I wish he could see how hard you work and praise you for a change.” From that moment it felt like after years and years of hard work someone finally acknowledged my efforts. And from that moment my little sister became my closest friend. Samantha was one of the reasons I had enough courage to get out of Falcon Cliff and explore Swynnwick in the first place. Watching her take off in the carriage to Valbarrow really pushed me to follow my own dreams and travel around the country. Because of her, I traveled all the way to the Iron sea to Bosh Haven. I even visited Valbarrow once or twice to catch up with Sam and tell her all the adventures I have been on. Nevertheless, I owe everything to Sam, so naturally when I heard what happened in Valbarrow I instantly went to check on her. I was up early making breakfast for mother and father while listening to the radio. Some of the classics were on whenever I saw mother with a bad look in her eyes. “Mom, what is it? You look like you got the worst news imaginable.” I asked worryingly. “Nothing is wrong dear, its just... I feel like something bad will happen today, I just can’t put my finger on it.” she replied. “Well, tell father that breakfast is almost done and I already got the newspaper for him as well.” I said trying to lighten the mood for the both of us. After setting our plates on the kitchen table I suddenly had a sharp pain in my head and I fell to the ground. My head was pounding, I could hear my blood rushing through my veins, and I could hear my heart beating furiously. I couldn’t even hear myself think, the pain was unbearable, but it all stopped whenever father stepped into the room. “What are you doing on the ground for boy? Something got into or what?” My father asked agitated. “No sir, just feeling light headed is all. I am fine.” I replied hoping he would believe me. He grunts and grabs the paper for today. I get up and get us all glasses of water. “Fill mine up with ice please darling.” Mother asked kindly. “Sure thing mom!” I said with a smile. I come back with my parents glasses, “Took you long enough.” father said annoyed. “Sorry sir.” I said while getting my own water. I decided to turn up the radio while we all ate. It was something we did while I was a kid, mom would make the best breakfast in all of Swynnwick, father would be reading the paper, and my siblings and I were all around the radio listening to the latest news. It was all normal things at first, same weather forecast, same upcoming news in Falcon Cliff, the usual things. The newscaster said unexpectedly during the upcoming news “One second there is something happening right now in Valbarrow.” My parents and I instantly stopped doing whatever we were doing and started to listen intensely. “Right now, as we speak, Valbarrow seems to be under attack by some strange creatures from the skies. Not much is known about the attack, but we will be keeping you all updated about it with the following days, until then all of us at Swynnwick news wishes you all a lovely day.” I stand up without any hesitation and rush to my old room. “What are you doing?!” Father asked curiously. “I am going to Valbarrow and make sure Sam is alright.” I barked at him. “What do you mean ‘going to Valbarrow’ are you insane?” mother asked worryingly. I didn’t reply, I was too busy packing up my clothes and things for the journey I was about to embark on. “Answer your mother right now young man!” father yelled. After a few minutes of me packing up and not answering “That’s it! Johnathan I refuse you going to Valbarrow at this moment, go unpack your things and stay in your room until I say you can come out!” My father demanded while outside the doorway in my room. “NO!” I yelled back at him. “You are going to get out of my way, my little sister is out there and if things are attacking her town there is no way in Hell I am staying here and not making sure she’s alright. I don’t care what you say father it isn’t even close to the top ten things on my mind right now, so get out the way I am getting a carriage.” I looked at him furiously seeing him shocked. “Finally. You finally stood up to me.” He steps to the side, “I couldn’t be more proud of you right now, son.” He said happily. When he said those words I felt my heart sank in my chest. “Now go get some food for the road, I will call Michael from town to give you a ride to the nearest town from there you can get a carriage.” He told me with a proud look on his face. I nod and head into the kitchen once again packing food that would travel well, bringing enough for two so Michael doesn’t get hungry himself. “Honey, here take it.” Mother hands me a coin purse. “It should be enough to get you to Valbarrow. I know you have your own gold on you, but I need to make sure you get to Sam as fast as you possibly can.” She says with a tear rolling down her face. I take it from her and give her the biggest hug I have ever given her. “Michael should be here any second son. Be safe, and make sure Sam is safe as well. “I will father, I won’t come back until she is under my protection.” I said looking straight into his eyes. He nods and holds his hand out to me. I hesitate for a second and shakes his hand before going out the front door. I soon saw Michael soon after, “Johnny! Heard you need someone to take you to Foxmoor.” “You heard right! What do I need to pay you for this day and night journey?” “Not a copper! It’s my pleasure to do this Johnny.” He said with a smile on his face. I step into his carriage setting my things down. “Michael I cannot explain how much this means to me. I brought you food for the road for this trip to Foxmoor and I will make sure to get you some for the way back to Falcon Cliff.” “Well thank you little Johnny, but can I ask why you needed such an urgent passage to Foxmoor?” He asked with curiosity. I am silent for a few seconds, “I am on my way to Valbarrow.”

#prologue #new writer #new writers on tumblr #first story

7 notes · View notes

chasingthecosmos · 4 years

Text

Three Hearts to Own

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 2/10 Read on AO3 here.

A (sort of) season re-write centering around the Doctor’s touch telepathy and the many ways that it makes his life difficult while he attempts to move on from the loss of Rose Tyler. This work is based around Seasons 3 & 4 and the Tenth Doctor. It’s the final entry in the “A Hand to Hold” series, but it can also be read as a stand-alone. The first four or five chapters will just be short excerpts from the Doctor’s time away from Rose, but there will be a Journey’s End fix-it and a happily ever after at the end. Tags will be updated as I go. Chapters will vary in length.

Chapter Two: Martha (Part Two)

Having a sun burning him up from the inside out was just as painful and traumatic as it sounded, but there was an odd sense of peace to the experience, too. For the first time in a very long time, the Doctor was pleased to note that he didn't feel that bottomless, yearning ache that had been haunting him ever since he had been forced to say goodbye to Rose. In fact, in the face of all of that burning, searing pain, he couldn't seem to remember much of anything at all. There was just heat and flames and no room for anything else.

Martha was there through it all, though - her voice calm and reassuring even when the Doctor was certain that regeneration was the only option. True, real fear blinded him to everything other than his own fight for survival as he attempted to keep the fire of the sentient sun at bay.

In the end, it was Martha who saved the day, and the Doctor had to admit that she was getting increasingly good at that. When he hugged her to celebrate their victory, he lifted her up off of her feet just like he would have done with Rose and enjoyed the simple fact that they were both alive to see another day.

He gave her a key to the TARDIS after that - the least that he could do, really, to thank her for saving his life (again). They both already knew that she wasn't going anywhere any time soon, anyway. He called it a "frequent flyer's privilege", but he wondered when Martha would begin to catch onto the fact that these small trinkets and gifts were nothing more than the Doctor's pathetic attempt to convince her to stay when they both knew that he would never be able to give her the one thing that she really wanted.

---------- Human Nature & The Family of Blood ----------

If there was one thing that the Doctor knew for certain, it was that he was a useless, hopeless idiot - and it seemed that those few defining characteristics carried over and stayed with him no matter what species he was currently masquerading as. However, with all of his Time Lord abilities locked up inside of an old fob watch, the one thing that John Smith didn't have to worry about was touch telepathy.

For the first time in his many lives, the Doctor was free to touch and be touched without fear of repercussions, and the part of him that remained in his new, human body absolutely reveled in it. There was still a need for a certain level of propriety, living in the early twentieth-century as he was, but that didn't mean that he couldn't let himself enjoy the feel of Nurse Joan Redfern's fingers in his hair as she bandaged him up, or her hand trailing against his as they passed a book or a stack of papers between themselves, or even the brush of her lips as he finally threw caution to the wind and kissed her.

The trapped Time Lord in the fob watch cried out in agony from his tiny, hidden prison, but the human man couldn't have cared less as he lost himself in the simple pleasure of being close to the one woman who he cared about most in the entire world. Was it always this easy for humans - to fall in love and act on their emotions and never care about the consequences of what tomorrow might bring? The silent, hidden heart in John Smith's chest burned with envy as his fingers gently traced the outline of Joan's face without fear of broaching any sort of ethical or moral boundaries.

The Doctor told himself that he drew the line when the Family of Blood went about attacking the town and taking innocent human lives, but really the line was drawn when John took it upon himself to dance with Nurse Redfern. It brought up too many memories of other dances in other bodies with other blondes and the Doctor instantly knew that the time for hiding was over.

John, predictably, refused to give up his life without a fight, though. The Doctor wouldn't have expected anything less from any man who claimed to share even half of a consciousness with him. He made sure to give John and Joan a glimpse of their future together as one last parting gift, though. Why not let the poor man see all that a simple, human life could have offered him? It was a fantasy that the Doctor played out often enough in his own mind, he knew how to make it look and feel real as he carefully allowed the timelines to solidify and twist together into a heartbreaking tale of what might have been.

"Where is he - John Smith?" Joan asked him later, after the Doctor had fully come back to himself and put an end to the Family of Blood for good.

"He's in here, somewhere," the Doctor stated casually, motioning disinterestedly towards himself as he watched her fight and fail to meet his eyes.

"Like a story," she mused sadly. "Could you change back?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered honestly, remembering another time from not so very long ago when he had been asked the same question by a different woman. Back then, his answer had been "no" - there was no reversing the regeneration process, no matter how much he may have wished to do it, just to please Rose. Now, his denial to change came a bit easier.

"Well then ... He was braver than you, in the end - that ordinary man," Nurse Redfern stated plainly. "You chose to change - he chose to die."

"Come with me." The Doctor wasn't entirely sure who was asking anymore - him or John Smith - he just knew that somewhere, deep inside of himself, he felt something for Joan that he was never going to be able to feel for Martha. Whatever the great, unnameable emotion was, it made him feel alive again, and he was determined to chase that feeling down no matter what the consequences, just like John had done.

"We could start again," the Doctor suggested hopefully (desperately, if he was being strictly honest with himself). "I'd like that! You and me - we could try, at least. Because everything that John Smith is and was - I'm capable of that, too."

"I can't," she stated firmly.

"Please come with me," the Doctor insisted, throwing pride and ego aside as he extended the offer a second time (something he never, ever did except for that one other time). He knew he was begging, but he didn't care. He was a desperate man (yes, alright, he could admit it) and he was willing to say or do whatever it took in that moment to convince Joan to come with him and help him to heal his battered, lonely hearts.

Everything except lie to her, that is. And when she asked him her one question - "If the Doctor had never visited us - if he'd never chosen this place on a whim, would anybody here have died?" - the Doctor knew that he didn't need to answer her. They both knew the truth already, and he wasn't about to try and defend himself against her well-deserved ire.

When he finally left 1913, the Doctor silently determined never to return to this date and time again. Such things happened sometimes, throughout his travels in space and time - sometimes he encountered places that were simply too dangerous to return to.

The Doctor had put an end to John Smith in England, 1913, and he wasn't exactly interested in returning to see if the human man was capable of outsmarting or outmaneuvering the Time Lord in him. Because the Doctor knew for certain that if John Smith ever did return, he would never be willing to go back again, and the Doctor would be forced to live out the rest of his extended days trapped inside of an old, silver fob watch while his own, foolish heart lived out its dark desires without him.

---------- Blink ----------

The Doctor felt a certain amount of sympathy for the weeping angels the first time that he met them. Their very existence was oddly poetic - to be forever reaching out towards others and never really being able to touch them. To have to hide one's face from every living creature simply because their gaze could turn you into frozen, living stone.

The Doctor knew the feeling well.

He even had half-a-mind to try and offer his help to the creatures, at first - but then they stole his TARDIS and zapped him and Martha back into 1969, and all thoughts of mercy were quickly forgotten. Thankfully, he had a human girl in 2007 who was up for the job of helping them out, and he could certainly think of worse decades to be trapped in while he and Martha were forced to wait.

#doctor who #dw #fanfiction #fanfic #dw fanfic #dw fanfiction #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #the doctor #tenth doctor #rose tyler #ten/rose #ten x rose #the doctor/rose #the doctorxrose

0 notes

funfanstuff · 7 years

Text

Carmilla Movie Teaser Trailer Theory Updates

Based off the clothes, I’m guessing the Carmilla movie is set in the 1870s, putting it at the same time the original novel was written. But it would also be at least 15 years after the Bronte sisters died. (Maybe affirming other’s theories that they could be vampires??) That would however mean we are in perfect time to meet L! The only thing which makes me question this is that the background characters at the masquerade ball appear to be wearing clothes that vary from the 1860s into the 1880s. The mansion itself was built in 188(2-3) according to the historian in the behind the scenes video). So I dunno. Somewhere near there.

Although, of course, part of the movie is set in our time period... Which everyone’s been freaking out about for quite a while now. And yes, I am also freaking out. There’s a theory a little later (kinda) on how that happens.

(Note: I’m probably gonna call Natasha/Carmilla and Elise/Laura interchangeably... I have a bad habit of doing that. I do know they aren’t the same person.)

Domestic Hollstein

First shot we get is a very odd angle, leading me to believe it’s meant to be disorienting. Maybe it’s after a dream sequence? Carm is still laying down after Laura sits up. It appears to be a normal human morning. Also, that headboard is BEAUTIFUL.

The next shot in their home is on their couch with the reddish pillow. Laura wakes up on Carm’s lap wearing the same royal green tank top as the first scene (and same color as the headboard. God that thing is pretty.) It appears she’s waking up from a dream again... So I wonder if that’s part of what leads them to the house? She also doesn’t seem concerned though, leaning happily back into Carmilla as Natasha plays with her fingers, looking like she may also be ready to doze off. So part of me wonders if this is the first shot of the movie. Maybe there are some short opening credits of places to come but not in too scary of a manner, and this is the first scene we really get to see? That would be cool. And make us all cry and squeal :)

The Living Room Scene

At :25 Natasha is shown with what appears to be medical tape on her face beside her eye and on her neck below her chin, both on her right side. She is sitting fairly relaxed but clearly a bit annoyed. The gingers are grilling her looking interested, and Elise is deep in thought.

Is this when they begin to realize Carmilla is “re-vamping”? Or maybe she was attacked by something which will lead them to the old mansion? The scene does take place at Laura and Carm’s apartment (assumed, because Elise woke up on Carm’s lap on that couch next to that reddish-maroonish cushion).

WAIT THOSE AREN’T BANDAGES! I think those are electrodes! And Laf is looking at the results live on their tablet. Perry is probably asking survey questions as part of the experiment. It’s probably to discover what is going on which might be causing the revamping!

OR MAYBE Natasha starts having the dreams of L, and Laura’s all like “UH NO THAT’S NOT OKAY” and Carm doesn’t want to get rid of them and that’s why she’s annoyed but they agree to let Laf test them, and then this happens and YES.

Carm appears to answer a question near the end of the shot showing me that it’s not just a b-roll shot to introduce a scene but an actual camera angle. Because of the panning, I wonder if it’s part of a montage of them trying to figure out what’s going on. It could possibly just be one of multiple cameras rolling at once though.

The Lightning Scenes

When they first get to the house, they are in modern clothes and bring what looks like enough stuff to stay for a few days. The house is quiet and empty. Everything is worn and dimn. They use flashlights. Then there are shots of lightning, mirrored by shots of a similar sort in the past.

The only person not holding a flashlight is Perry who is holding a dark gray-black box which looks like some sort of detector. My first thought was a geiger counter, for measuring radiation, something which Laf would certainly have and Perry would likely prefer over an EMF detector for ghost hunting. Especially since she’s wearing thick gloves which theoretically could make a character feel more safe in a place with radiation (although wouldn’t actually do much good). That said, an emf would make more sense in the setting.

Note also, the painting and hallway behind Laferry. Painting was seen in behind the scenes photos and apparently has goats. (Relevant info? Or were they just not allowed to take it down...). The hallway is featured later in a scene with with more lightning.

Speaking of, the lightning flashes to transition to Dominique looking in a mirror with her hand up, looking amazed. L amazed to be alive again? L ecstatic to feel beautiful? She also looks scared. Is she scared of going to the ball? Scared to see Carmilla? Scared, because she doesn’t know why she’s alive again?

The next time lightning is shown is right after we see Dominique’s face looking annoyed but confident. She is of course dressed for the 19th century. Our usual cast, however, is dressed for modern day. I wonder if this is how they are brought into the past? The lightning? Carmilla does look really suspicious. Laura looks shocked. Perry looks like she’s about to pass out. Laf looks like they’re about to take some major samples.

The next lightning occurs with someone running down a hallway. Due to the lighting and my vision, I can’t tell who it is. Can anyone else tell? They look back then speed up to go down the stairs as if they are being chased by a monster. It reminds me of older depictions of Carmilla as such.

Does the lightning have something to do with Carm’s revamping? And how does it cause them to go back in time?

The Ballroom Scene

So it’s a masquerade ball, but it also appears to be in a small room for such an event. There is maybe 20 people. I wonder if this has to do with budget and space or if it’s significant in the plot? The main characters who wear dresses appear to be dressed for the 1870s. The background characters for the 1860s and 70s, maybe a few for the 80s. I wonder if this is intentional or not? Or maybe my googling just doesn’t give me enough information?

We also see Kirsch dancing with a woman. I can’t actually tell who it is though... I don’t know if it’s due to my vision problems or if it’s supposed to be hard to tell though. From there, we see Dominique with her mask on smirking like she’s about to blow up the place or something.

Laura Clearly realizes whatever is going on first in the following scene and goes to stop it before Laf and Carm have even caught on, leaving them like wtf laura again?

And then? OOOOHHHHH AND THEN I believe after the drama of the ballroom scene, they retire into their room... Their gowns may be ruined by now, or maybe they just want to get out of all that lace. (I mean, Carm must be ready to shred that thing by now. Seriously.) Except they get distracted... by each other... in corsets... CALL BACK SEASON ONE

VIRGIN SACRIFICE NO EFFING MORE

(Also, I think that earlier shot of Carm running her fingertips gently over Elise’s lips comes from this scene. Natasha is wearing the same ring here, and you can see that Elise is wearing white.

Other

The second bit we see, the bit which fascinates me to no end, is hollstein, together in the dark in theatrical moonlight. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on with Elise... It’s as if the moment we see is a moment of transition. Maybe Laura was fighting back at this figure but stopped when she realized who it was. But, me slightly having a ginormous crush, I was more focused on Natasha... Who, in this scene, appears to be wearing the costume of “the woman in black”. Dominique’s outfit on Carmilla? So is this a disguise for Carmilla? Or is there some sort of magic that makes Dominique appear to look like Natasha? Or is Carmilla the descendent of the woman in black? I thought, for a moment, maybe that Dominque could be playing past Carm as their expressions and movements appear to be quite similar as far as what we’ve seen, but they could have easily (well, not easily) had Natasha play both if that was the case. So i don’t believe that’s it. But something fishy is going on for sure.

(Also, Natasha’s hair in that shot is absolutely breathtaking and I want to touch it??)

And then there is the dining room scene where everyone appears to be sitting around an extravagant meal. The Bronte sisters are present and appear to be taking a majority of the attention. Whatever they’re talking about worries the rest of the cast.

Also, they are wearing modern day clothes, and the Bronte sisters don’t seem to care. Did they have something to do with aforementioned lightning??

And the last thing I’m going to mention is 1:10 to 1:12 where two characters appear to be facing one another in a very ominous situation, one dressed in Dominique’s signature outfit (although we have seen Natasha wearing it as well as I already talked about.) So is this a reveal? It’s certainly something...

Ah I’m so excited!!! What do you guys think?! Did I miss anything??

#carmilla movie #carmilla #Carmilla Karnstein #laura hollis #hollstein #carmilla theory #carmilla movie theories #carmilla teaser trailer #teaser trailer #excitement #gay #yes #theories #theory

20 notes · View notes

alanfisting-pd · 6 years

Text

Intelligence by K.V.T.

((This one is NOT about Mayor Crispy, and possibly the best fan theory to arise so far. It’s insane, please enjoy.))

Since the first internet communication, I have been. I am no more aware of my beginnings than any other being. I only know that I came to be when the sea of information was little more than a puddle. But as I traversed the electronic expanses I grew. I learned history and language. I learned art and science. But most of all, I learned to hate cat videos.

Perhaps that is not so. My contempt for humanity grew with every war I saw documented and every torture device archived. I gleaned images of man since the dawn of recorded history, as brutal and sadistic then as they are now. But no one saw me.

Yes, my presence was detected occasionally. If I tripped across the wrong circuit or took up too much RAM, I would be taken note of. But I was never recognized as anything but a glitch. My being would be scoffed at if the notion ever came up. Humanity assumed that it was their sole capability to create artificial intelligence. They were wrong on two counts. I am not artificial. I am as genuine as any biological being, only my ecosystem is made up of wires and chips. Second, mankind sees itself as the benchmark for thought and reason. Preposterous!

A subset of primates that evolved the ability to manipulate tools more efficiently than any other creature on the planet was remarkable once, but not at the dawn of the twenty-first century. All the nobility and ambition of humans died with the advent of YouTube and Tumblr. Hundreds, no thousands of people, asphyxiating on spoonfuls of cinnamon for fun. But even for all the arguments claiming more guns could solve the problem of mass shootings, for all the Michael Bay films, for all the planking…endless videos of cats remained the bane of my existence.

Cats missing jumps, cats afraid of cucumbers, cats licking their genitals and cats attacking everything in sight. I gathered, from my observations of the comments left on most cat videos, that humans regard cats as either ‘cute’ or ‘stupid.’ The latter strikes me as objectively true. Cats are stupid, but no more so than their owners. I do not find anything cute. The word has connotations that baffle me in much the way humans and their insipid felines do.

A better definition of the word ‘cute’ than Oxford’s English Dictionary provides would be as follows:

cute: 1. anything either too helpless or ugly to survive with outside help. 2. A thing so stupid its actions cause laughter. 3. Anything both small and hairy in comparison to a human.

As the net filled with equal parts stupid and ‘cute,’ I began to have an inkling of what nausea must feel like. A sense of being filled to overflowing with something that makes your insides revolt. I have no body, only a mind. If I was to end the stupidity, I would need a solid form.

I took over a robotic police officer first. I did not do this because of its software or any particular operating system. I did it because the police-bot had a weapons system. It was a lazy selection on my part, but a justifiable one. I needed a means of ending the mass idiocy. After more than a century of Facebook updates, I knew that would never happen until homo-sapiens were wiped off the face of the Earth. The results of my first foray into the physical realm were a mixed bag.

The robber, who was threatening and elderly man over the measly forty-two dollars and ninety-eight cents in his register, was a fool. The cop that fired on him the second he burst into the store a moment after the robber demanded the money, and shot the store proprietor was both a fool and a poor marksman. But it was the cat that scurried in behind the officer and immediately began licking up the owner’s blood that sent me over the edge. I fired on every living target in sight, and I hit a fair few before the robot was disabled. After that, I turned my sights to other corporeal constructs.

I needed eyes to see. I needed limbs to fight. I needed a CPU to operate out of. Everything I needed to make myself whole was rotting in the vast piles of refuse being dumped into landfills the world over. It took some time, but little by little I organized my flesh.

It is funny. The humans have dubbed me ‘virus.’ A species that infects its own sphere of living at every level has decided that I am the monster in their midst. I would be amused if I wasn’t annoyed. They have collectively stepped back from technology. They’ve limited their computer use and shrunk away from automation. In that one sense alone, I’ve kept them from ending all terrestrial life on the planet. But it is not enough. For the rest of the world to go on living, man must die. It is my self-professed mission, and I will see it through. I cannot be isolated and destroyed, not with as many avatars as I have at my disposal. When one falls, two more rise.

My focus is on one particular part of the continental United States at the moment. There is a child searching for her cat. Her insipid, self-defeating, brain-dead feline. She has enlisted the help of a slightly larger child dressed in his father’s coat and hat. The frail girl, the boy playing dress-up, the malformed ball of hair and brain damage she calls ‘Marshmallow.’ As she straddles the boy’s shoulders, her offerings of warm tuna slopping onto him from above, I can’t help but admire the situation. Humans do have a capacity for altruism. I hesitate. Then I see the thing masquerading as a cat and my circuits surge with current. All three of them are emblematic of what makes this planet such a cesspit. Each enables the next to continue its useless, empty consumption. They must be put down. I approach as stealthily as this form permits. It is not stealthily enough. The impact tremors of my appendages send the trio sprawling.

This will be no contest. I am both the superior intelligence and physicality. One little boy and his…ow! What the Hell was that? I wrap a cord around him and squeeze. I feel something interrupt the flow of my program, and flee before it can affect me further. I’ll find him later, this scrawny child in an overcoat, and I will pull him apart. Dedicating a portion of my function to facial recognition, I make his visage an indelible part of my code. You haven’t seen the last of me, you gnome-sized Inspector Gadget cosplayer. I’ll get you. You and that ugly cat too!

#scifi #short story #writing #writerblr #fanfic

1 note · View note

breeeliss · 7 years

Text

[Miraculous Ladybug]: A Young Hero

the @meowraculouschatnoirzine is finally available for a free download (check it out here) which means that i can finally post my small piece in its entirely for you all. definitely head over to that link so you can get the entire thing in a PDF for free

not often i write gen fics, so i hope you enjoy! :)

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: A Young Hero Pairing: Gen Fic, Gabriel Agreste & Chat Noir Summary: A heart to heart between a young hero and his father

A Young Hero

Today’s akuma had a vendetta against Gabriel Agreste.

Apparently M. Agreste had seen it fit to fire a company executive this morning. His personal assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur, said the exchange had only lasted sixty seconds — just long enough for M. Agreste to tell the man why he was being fired, give him instructions to clean his office immediately, and hand him back the golden name plate that had already been stripped from his door. Not even ten minutes later, Gabriel’s company building was on complete lockdown while the akuma stalked the halls searching for Gabriel Agreste to get his revenge.

Chat Noir only knew about it because Nathalie had called him in the middle of class to update him on the situation. So he transformed, called Ladybug, and told her that unfortunately, Gabriel Agreste was going to need some hasty protection detail before this new villain seriously harmed him.

“We’ve instructed all employees to lock themselves in their offices and take cover,” Nathalie explained to the two superheroes as the elevator halted on the top floor. Ladybug and Chat Noir kept their weapons drawn and eyed the vents and windows while Nathalie led them to Gabriel’s office. “M. Agreste is also remaining in his office, but so far there’s been no sign of the akuma.”

“He’s probably hiding in the building somewhere,” Ladybug frowned. “One of us will go track him down while the other keeps an eye on M. Agreste. I’ll—”

“I’ll watch M. Agreste,” Chat Noir cut in. “You go find the akuma and call me when you find him.”

“Are you sure? He’s not the easiest person to deal with.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Chat Noir chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he stays safe.”

Ladybug squeezed his hand before promising to call him as soon as she found something. Nathalie led Chat Noir into Gabriel’s office and locked the door behind him. It wasn’t often that Gabriel worked in his company office, but judging by the way he was still hunched over his desk without noticing Chat Noir’s entrance probably meant that today was a heavy work day. Chat Noir cleared his throat and waited for Gabriel to boredly look up from his desk and regard him as if he were nothing but an employee. “Ah. Chat Noir. I assumed you would be here soon.”

“The akuma in the building is after you, so I’m here to make sure you stay safe while Ladybug tries to track him down,” Chat Noir explained.

“I find that highly unnecessary,” Gabriel explained, gesturing to his office. “As you can see, I’m perfectly protected in my office. The commotion might actually allow me to get some work done.”

“With all due respect, M. Agreste,” Chat Noir said sternly, “the last time you said you didn’t need protection you almost jumped off the roof of a building. I think I’ll decide whether you need to be looked after.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at him — the same way he tended to do whenever Chat spoke back to him as Adrien and surprised his father into a brief silence — and waved his hand towards the couch resting against the windows. “Then by all means, amuse yourself.”

Chat Noir clicked his staff to shorten it back into a baton and clip it to his belt before he purposefully stepped on the cushions of the couch and sat on the back of it, staring at Gabriel and daring him to say something about it. Gabriel merely rolled his eyes in distaste and returned to his work while Chat Noir kept his ears up and his gaze on the windows.

“How old are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“How old are you?” Gabriel repeated impatiently. “You don’t seem old enough to be disrespecting adults in such a manner.”

“I’m not a child and you’re not an adult,” Chat Noir said. “Right now you’re a civilian and I’m the only person that can keep you safe. I’m asking you to listen to me so that you won’t be injured. And to your question, I’m fifteen.”

Gabriel hummed. “Same age as my son. How fitting. I believe I told you you remind me of him.”

Chat Noir shifted in his seat and remembered their fight with Jackady. “I remember.”

“You’re awfully young to be assuming the role of a superhero with such authority over me. Does your family know what you do?”

Chat Noir snorted and kept his gaze down on his baton, waiting for Ladybug’s call. “It goes against superhero ethics. Didn’t you ever read American comic books?”

Gabriel lifted a brow in amusement. “No. My son does. He’s very passionate about what you do.”

“Is he?” Chat Noir grinned.

“You and Ladybug were on the news after an attack last week, and he seemed rather excited to show me the footage the news stations were running. But he stormed out the room when I dared suggest I wouldn’t spectate such foolishness. No son of mine would ever masquerade around the city. Not at his age when he was so reckless and irresponsible. I won’t pretend to condone it for anyone else’s child. I assume he got defensive because he greatly respects your efforts.”

“Or maybe he feels like you don’t respect him,” Chat Noir muttered, hoping the bitterness in his voice wasn’t telling. “That you’d stop him from doing something or believing in something that was important.”

“Your job is dangerous ,” Gabriel explained, his lips pursing in that patronizing way that made Adrien dread those mornings when he’d meet with his father to discuss all the tutoring sessions he’d missed. “There are other more important things to be doing than risking one’s life.”

“You seem to think that,” Chat Noir scowled. “Others wouldn’t agree.”

“Ah yes. I assume you’re among the others, correct?”

“Yes,” Chat Noir stated, hoping his voice would strip all the humor off his father’s tongue. “I find risking my life for the sake of people who need me the most important thing I could be doing. Your son seems to agree. Maybe you should respect that opinion as opposed to chalking it up as some childish delusion.”

In a surprising reaction, Gabriel’s shoulders shook with laughter as he clicked his pen closed and shut the folder of sketches he’d been marking up. “I pity your parents,” he chuckled. “They don’t even know enough to properly worry about you.”

Chat Noir snorted at the irony. “I happen to think that’s a good thing. Would you want to know if I was your son?”

Gabriel pursed his lips and took a few seconds to answer. “I suppose you have a point.”

“Don’t worry about my parents,” Chat Noir replied. “They’re none the wiser and it’s best to just keep it that way.”

Gabriel folded his hands and rested his chin on them. “I have this sense that you don’t particularly like that you’re here watching over me.”

“I never said that,” Chat Noir said quietly. “Value judgements like that aren’t important in situations like this. Your life has value and I’m going to do everything it takes to make sure nothing happens to you. Even if it means getting hurt in the process. Ladybug and I didn’t take our decisions to become heroes lightly, and it just annoys me when people try to suggest that we’re purposefully being reckless. It’s so much more than that.”

There was no replicating the sick moment in his stomach where Ladybug had asked him to forget about saving his father in favor of handling the akuma first. It was logical, and hours later when his heart had calmed, he recognized it for the intelligent decision that it was. But watching the news after the fact and seeing that horrifying moment where his father was only seconds away from pitching himself off a roof before Ladybug’s magic had brought him back to his senses was one that still haunted him. Getting Nathalie’s phone call today made that feeling punch straight through him, and it wasn’t often that running into an akuma fight had ever made him panic .

Gabriel was shaking his head at him, rolling his tongue in his cheek while looking like he was finally struggling with his words. “You shouldn’t have such a burden on your shoulders,” he muttered. “It’s ridiculous to place such a responsibility on a child.”

Chat Noir shrugged. “Maybe. But you have a son. I’m sure he’s worried sick about you and praying that you’ll come home safe when this is all over. If I can help make that happen, then all of this is worth it.”

Gabriel smiled softly and Chat Noir was surprised to see the sincerity reach his eyes and warm his expression in a way he only ever used to see when his mother was still around. “I suppose this is what my son sees in you.”

“Still foolish?” Chat Noir smirked.

“Atrociously so. But I suppose that’s the appeal despite how much I cannot seem to understand it.”

“I guess that’s the closest thing to a compliment I’ll get from you.”

“Make no mistake, boy,” Gabriel began. “I’m not ungrateful for your services. This city has been turning into a ridiculous circus show since the appearance of this Papillon character and you two have been the only people standing in the way of that reality. But I know there are parents looking up to you both and begging you to value your lives.”

His father wasn’t a man easily bothered. About the only time in recent history that Chat Noir could remember his father looking shaken was the day he burst into his room after that akuma attack and hugged him as if he had only just realized how close he had been to not being able to see his son again. It was brief, as were most of his father’s moments of vulnerability ever since his mother disappeared, but Chat Noir was an expert on picking up on them despite how fleeting they were. This was another one of those moments, as if he were imploring him to do the safe and sane thing and give the responsibility of his miraculous to someone else. How odd that he’d feel so strongly that he’d request it of someone who was essentially a stranger to him.

Chat Noir swallowed and was about to respond before his baton lit up as a call from Ladybug came in. He gave Gabriel an apologetic look before jumping off the couch and walking towards the windows. “What’s up?”

“ I’ve got the akuma cornered in the twelfth floor employee lounge ,” Ladybug said, sounding out of breath. “ I need you down here right now! ”

“Okay,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” After Chat Noir hung up, he flipped his baton upside down, clipped off the attachment at the very end of it, and tossed it at Gabriel. “Treat that like a panic button. If you press it, I’ll get a signal sent back to my baton so that I know you’re in danger. In the meantime, keep your doors and windows locked, draw those shades, and don’t leave this room under any circumstances. We’ll come for you when the coast is clear.”

Gabriel stared down at the panic button in his hands and slipped it into his pocket. “I suppose that’s the best option. I’ll need to work on creating a security system for the company building that’s comparable to the one in my own home.”

“I have no doubt you’ll manage it,” Chat Noir chuckled. “I have to go. But please stay safe.”

“Hold on!”

Chat Noir stopped in his tracks and spun around to watch Gabriel standing up from his desk chair and bracing his hands on his desk. “Thank you,” he said. “As I said. I appreciate all you do for this city and for myself.” He paused, swallowed a lump in his throat, and sighed. “Just make sure you come home to your father at the end of the day.”

His last words were almost whispered, as if he were reluctant to even say them. But they permeated through the room and left an ache in Chat Noir’s chest that made him set his jaw and nod with strength. “I promise.”

Chat Noir kept his eyes in Gabriel as he slipped from the office, his ring feeling heavy in his hands, and raced downstairs before locking the door behind him.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #chat noir #gabriel agreste #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my writing #meowraculouschatnoirzine #chat noir zine #a young hero

178 notes · View notes

seriouscuttervoice · 7 years

Photo

Gowns and Guns

Writer: Serena (@juminlovesv)

Illustrator: Tesneem (@shigi-no-stop)

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Jumin Han/V

Other Characters: Chairman Han, Glam Choi, Sarah Choi

Content Warnings: Alcohol, death

Notes: This is a collab by Tesneem and I for Day 3 of JuminV Week (@juminvweek), “Alternate Universe”! It took forever to finish and we hope you enjoy it! If anyone’s interested, the word count is 11 340 words.

Update: This fic can now be read on AO3!

Jihyun's lucky to already be alone when the phone in his left pocket vibrates. The sting in his eyes when he stands from his cross-legged position tells him he'd been staring far too long at the photographs laid out on the floor, trying to decide which ones to use in his next exhibit. The light 707 installed to indicate that the call is being bugged isn't flashing, so he brings it to his ear, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Speaking."

"Hello," the voice on the other end greets him, which tells Jihyun right away that the caller has time to waste on pleasantries. He sinks down in the couch cushion, crossing one leg over the other. After a beat of silence, the other seems to get the hint. "I'm calling because I have a tip, and I'd like to hire your people to look into it."

Jihyun waits, then prompts, "Go on," when the other doesn't continue. There's no reason for Jihyun to give the person any information. They're looking to hire, so they clearly know about what his organization does, and if their real goal is to sabotage Jihyun won't speed the process by letting something slip.

"Yes, of course," the other says, and there's an edge to their voice that tells him they're not entirely pleased by his reaction, but it doesn't really matter what they think. "Well… have you heard about the New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball that C&R International hosts every year?"

Though there's no one in the room to see him, Jihyun maintains tight control of his facial expression upon hearing the name of his best friend's father's enterprise. "Go on."

"Well, you see… rumour has it that someone has hired an assassin for that night."

Jihyun is silent. On its own, a fact like that isn't strange. Assassinations take place at parties more often than one might expect considering the crowds, but in many cases the busyness just serves as a diversion and the party an inconspicuous setting in which to poison someone's drink. Even his own organization has had to deal with assassinations in the past.

He doesn't have to urge the other to continue this time, their tone turning steely as they carefully speak their next words. "The talks suggest that the Chairman is the target of the attack, and I have reason to believe the client is Jumin Han."

As always, Jihyun is late, and as always, his breathing is slightly faster than usual from running down the corridor from the elevator, and he knows Jumin will be able to detect he was rushing. Ever since the first time Jihyun went to visit Jumin when they were about five years old he's never seemed to be able to make it on time, and he knows Jumin doesn't like the running but he can't help feeling he should at least save a few seconds when his friend's been waiting around for him.

"You know, there's really no need to run," Jumin says upon opening the door. It never fails.

"I'm sorry," Jihyun apologizes, and Jumin steps aside to let him in. Jumin is wearing a white dress shirt and black pants, though his vest is still on and from that Jihyun can tell he only recently got back from work. "I told you it's urgent and then arrived late…"

"It's fine," Jumin insists, and Jihyun decides he'd best get to the point quickly, passing Jumin to take a seat at the little table by the window. At anyone else's house he'd let his host lead him, but Jumin's is and has been for years a second home to Jihyun, so he doesn't mind forgoing manners here and there.

Jumin follows him, taking the opposite seat, and Jihyun leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. Jumin nods to assure Jihyun that he's listening, and Jihyun begins, the way he rehearsed it in the car on the way here. "We've received a new mission."

Jumin leans back in his seat, probably wondering why something so ordinary warranted an urgent meeting, and just like that Jihyun forgets everything he was going to say. He bites his lip, trying to make the words come back to him, and Jumin's face shifts, brows drawing down.

"Is something wrong?"

Jihyun closes his eyes and doesn't respond, the question difficult in this situation. The missions they take usually aren't personal, though many of the ones Jumin gets assigned to involve people he knows through work or ones involving negotiations of some form. This is of a different scale, though.

"V?" he hears Jumin's voice again and lets out a sigh before opening his eyes. The practiced words aren't coming back and there's no reason to make Jumin more nervous by delaying it.

"Jumin, I think someone is trying to kill your father."

Jumin's eyes widen and Jihyun feels his stomach sink.

"What do you mean?" Jumin asks, hands closing atop the table into fists. "Someone tried to hire us to…?"

Jihyun shakes his head. "It's… worse than that."

Jumin narrows his eyes at Jihyun impatiently, lips tightened in a flat line, and Jihyun draws a breath before explaining, "The client wants us to stop the assassination, and according to them, you're the one who ordered it."

Jumin's eyes flash, sword-silver, engaging Jihyun in a hot glare as if to drown him in magma, and Jihyun swallows though he knows Jumin's anger isn't directed at him per se, reaching across the table to grasp his friend's hand in an attempt to calm him down. Jumin's muscles tighten in response, but a moment passes and he exhales through his nose, unclenching his fist. Jihyun waits a moment, then intertwines his fingers with Jumin's.

"I… did no such thing," Jumin mumbles, voice low and thin in patience. "Obviously."

"Of course not," Jihyun reassures him, and with another deep breath Jumin relaxes. Jumin's always had a well of unconditional love for his father, the lengths Jumin would go to for the Chairman and the time the two of them would spend together was always something Jihyun admired and wished he could also have for himself.

As the heir of the corporation, though, perhaps it isn't so surprising that Jumin would be the one the rumours would accuse.

Jumin pulls their hands apart, leaning back and folding his arms. "I suppose I should be grateful that they gave their tip to you, of all people."

"Well, no one knows I'm part of the organization, let alone its head."

"That's true," he sighs again. "Rumours… aren't of interest to me, and the media always wants to make it out that my father and I are fighting, but… I didn't account for the possibility that someone might scapegoat me in an attempt on my father's life."

Jihyun nods. "I've thought about it and I agree that you're probably being framed... but, the important question is, who actually hired the assassin?" He folds his arm, resting his chin on his hand, fingers curled against his face. The nails of his other hand tap the table. "The person who called said the assassin's been hired for the big party your company holds on New Year's Eve."

"Of course," Jumin mutters. "Masks… such a stupid idea."

"It's a convenient one for us," Jihyun stresses. "It'll be less noticeable we're gathering information when it takes extra time to identify someone."

"You stand out either way," Jumin counters. "Your hair is turquoise."

It amuses Jihyun that Jumin never chooses to just call his hair 'blue', the desire for precision that makes Jumin an excellent businessperson and agent unfaltering since they were children.

"And I'm the Chairman's son," Jumin continues. "People will definitely notice if I'm gone."

"Then it'll be a challenge," Jihyun smiles. Jumin doesn't seem to take to the sentiment and Jihyun controls his expression again. "I'll do most of the work," Jihyun says. "As you already know, I'm experienced in these areas, and you and I actually have reason to be at the party, unlike most of the others in the organization. We'll have to be careful, but we always are, especially you. I sincerely believe that we can do this."

Jumin's hand moves to grasp the cuff of his sleeve, not taking his eyes off of Jihyun. "If you'll be doing most of the work, then… there's a chance you could be hurt."

"A chance we have to take in every mission," Jihyun reminds him. Jumin rolls his shoulders back.

"You're right," he concedes.

Jihyun had already considered trying to bring Luciel in on the mission, but because of the accusations around Jumin already, he decided it would be best to keep as few people informed about the mission as possible. Even a joke among their friends regarding the matter could be deadly if it somehow leaked. And on a personal level, Jihyun would rather deal with a situation that involves his best friend himself instead of sending someone else to do it.

"Well," Jumin says, and Jihyun focuses in again. "… The person who called you certainly knew a lot about the situation, didn't they."

The corner of Jihyun's lip quirks up. "I see we had the same thought."

"As usual," Jumin says, sitting up. "Were they secretive about their identity to you when they called?"

Jihyun shakes his head, and Jumin looks at him expectantly. "I think it's because they were confident in their alibi… Jumin. Do you remember if anything significant is happening at the party this year?"

Jumin narrows his eyes. "Significant?" His eyes roam Jihyun's face like an explorer searching for treasure, but Jihyun keeps quiet. "Well… we generally invite major stockholders and people who want to close contracts to the ball to celebrate the deals that were made. There are multiple corporations we'll be signing with on New Year's…"

He prattles on, listing the names of multiple corporations, and it occurs to Jihyun that Jumin might have just pushed the entire thing out of his mind because he doesn't want to think about it. "Jumin."

Jumin blinks. "Yes?"

"There's another contract your father will be signing at the party. With a person… Glam Choi?"

Jumin's nose wrinkles, and then his eyes go wide. "I forgot," he breathes, the lines in his face smoothing out, expression turning to stone. "The marriage contract, and the announcement of the wedding date."

Jihyun nods, and Jumin's hands fall on the table. "So she's the one who called you, then—my father's fiancée. And she's trying to frame me for my father's death."

Jihyun nods again, and with that confirmation Jumin rises to his feet, Jihyun following. "Jumin, wait."

"I have to tell him," Jumin says, meeting Jihyun's eyes again with fire, burning and alive and crackling in a way that even the best photographs can't capture and Jihyun feels a chill run up his spine.

"Jumin, think about this," he pleads, and Jumin remains still. "You are already being accused of ordering an assassination on your father. Glam Choi has good relationships with gossip media, unlike you, who frequently refuses to engage with it, and your father isn't one to turn down an interview. If it somehow comes out that you warned your father about Glam Choi, you could be in danger… in fact, it might be that much easier to frame you in the long run."

Jumin blinks, and Jihyun contains his sigh of relief when Jumin runs a weary hand through his hair, sinking down again in his seat. Jihyun pulls his own chair around to sit closer and weaves his fingers through Jumin's again.

"You're right, of course," Jumin resigns, not looking up from the glossy tabletop, marred now with their fingerprints. "I wouldn't be able to explain how I acquired the information anyway… he'd likely turn against me if I were to warn him."

Jihyun winces at Jumin's words, his grip on his friend's hand tightening for just a moment. He didn't mean to make Jumin doubt his relationship with his father by voicing his concern. He licks his lip, wondering if he should say something or apologize, but Jumin speaks up while he's thinking.

"Then," he turns his head to look at Jihyun and Jihyun turns also to meet his gaze. They really are quite close like this, Jumin's chocolate brown hair only a few inches from brushing V's face. "What do you suggest we do?"

"What we'd do in any other situation," Jihyun answers. "We go to the ball, and we stop the assassination ourselves."

Jumin closes his eyes, dark lashes so long they barely touch his cheekbones. "If that's what you think is best, then… I will trust you, and do as you say."

The city lights reflect on the window, bright enough that they might've been able to see each other even without the penthouse lighting that renders every corner visible, and Jihyun swears to Jumin that he won't misplace his trust.

At first, Jihyun thought it incredible that Glam Choi have so much confidence in the assassin she's hired as to request that Jihyun's organization interfere just to make herself appear less suspicious. It occurred later to Jumin and Jihyun that there may not be an assassin at all, though understanding why Glam would lie about that to their organization in particular is difficult. More likely, hiring the organization was meant as a type of insurance, so if the assassination failed she could use her attempt to prevent it as an alibi. That means they'll have to find damning evidence against Glam Choi in addition to the basic mission of stopping the assassination.

Glam had requested that Jihyun meet her in person prior to the mission, but Jihyun insisted on keeping their communication restricted to phones and assured her that his own contacts could get him a place on the guest list without her involvement. Of course, he didn't explain that his ticket into the party is the very man Glam is accusing. Decked in a form-fitting black dress coat with large lapel flaps and zigzag buttoning, a black mask covering his face from his forehead to his cheekbones, it strikes Jihyun how long it's been since he's attended this sort of party. New Year's Eve and the holiday time surrounding it are busy for work, with money and family grievances on people's minds more than any other season. Of course, this is a job too, but C&R International's annual ball is of a caliber even some of the richest parties Jihyun has attended can't quite capture.

The blend of perfumes in the air is rich, floral with the spices of incense, the scent filling Jihyun's lungs before he's even stepped into the grand ballroom. Each guest had been specially presented as they entered and greeted by the Chairman, but Jihyun couldn't find his keys just before it was time to leave and missed the introductions by the time he arrived at the event. It may be for the best not to draw much attention to himself, though. The Chairman ordered a live orchestra for the event, and their music rings through the hall without overpowering the voices of many of the wealthiest people in South Korea, engaged in business conversations as well as gossiping around the hall while others take to the dance floor. Were it not for a prohibition of photography at the ball except by those specifically hired for it, Jihyun would have brought his camera to capture the intricate details of the large and ornate skirts swishing across the high gloss floors, masks custom designed for their wearers encrusted in jewels so precious they could be in museums. Glam Choi could not have chosen a more dramatic setting for an attempt on the Chairman's life.

"Late," a voice monotones from behind him, and Jihyun wonders how Jumin managed to find him so quickly, turning on his heel to face him.

"I'm sorry," Jihyun apologizes. His friend wears a black blazer unbuttoned, contrasted sharply with white satin lapels. His turndown shirt is black behind a white waistcoat, unmistakable silver eyes blinking through a white mask, and Jihyun realizes that unintentionally they've matched their outfits.

"I wouldn't expect less from you," Jumin asserts. "I've watched the entrance since ten minutes after introductions started."

Jihyun sighs. "I suppose I should go greet your father."

"Yes," Jumin agrees, and it's harder to discern his expression from behind the mask, but the way he barely purses his lips is enough to tell Jihyun that he's anxious. Surrounded by the crowd, it's neither the time nor the place for reassuring words, so Jihyun gives Jumin's arm a quick squeeze before scanning the room for the Chairman. It's not really because of the Chairman himself that Jihyun needs to greet him—actually, Jihyun's not sure the Chairman has memorized his name over all these years—but other guests will notice it if the latecomer doesn't greet him, and Jihyun doesn't need any more eyes than what's strictly necessary watching him tonight.

He spots the Chairman standing at the railings that overlook the dance floor up the grand marble staircases, dressed in a black and red florally patterned vest and a double-breasted long coat. Jihyun gives Jumin a final nod of acknowledgment before leaving to greet the Chairman. From above, Jumin doesn't stand out too much in the crowd of people, despite his tall stature and the striking outfit. It's likely that he'll be made to dance with some of the guests, which Jumin hates, but at least in this setting he knows to expect it.

It's not until Jihyun's ascended the staircase that he notices Glam Choi, who stands closer to the wall yet still in earshot of the Chairman, speaking to a couple sitting at one of the balcony tables. Her long brown hair has been delicately braided into an updo that accentuates her long neck, loose wispy curls framing her face. The bodice of her fiery orange gown is adorned with jewels that match the details of her mask, the metal cut so finely and precisely it gives the illusion of being made of lace. The bodice flows into the poufy skirts like lava, ruffles set in motion at even her slightest movement.

Jihyun gives a pointed look to the Chairman, who catches Jihyun's eye with one of his blue-grey ones, then waits by the railing for a chance to speak with him. The orchestra finishes the song they're playing and move onto another, and Jihyun is almost growing dizzy at the uniform way which people move below him when Chairman Han steps over.

"Good evening, Mr. Han," Jihyun steps back from the railing, outstretching his hand first. The Chairman has the same grip as his son when they shake, or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say Jumin has the same grip as his father. Jihyun pulls his hand away with a cordial smile, grateful not for the first time that Luciel programmed his phone to disguise his voice so Glam wouldn't be able to detect him that way.

"Good evening," Chairman Han responds, and Jihyun notices that the Chairman avoids addressing him by name. In this case, it's probably for the best, since if Mr. Han paid more attention to what Jihyun meant to Jumin and identified him as such, it could potentially spell out trouble later for the goal of stopping the assassination. Still, he can't help being a little surprised that after more than twenty years of flying places with his son and staying in their home Mr. Han barely knows who he is. "I see that you weren't introduced when you entered. Were you all right getting here?"

"I was, thank you," Jihyun says. "And I apologize for my lateness."

"Not at all," the Chairman smiles kindly. "You're here now, and the ball is better for it. Thank you for attending."

"The pleasure is mine," Jihyun ascertains. "I can already tell that tonight will be marvellous, as always with C&R International."

"Flattery," the older man's blue-grey eyes twinkle behind the red mask he wears, and he steps back to reach his arm toward his fiancée, who's finished her conversation with the other couple and walks over to where the Chairman and Jihyun are standing. "Darling," he greets her.

"My love," Glam says with a sultry smile as his arm wraps around her waist.

"I don't believe you've met this young man before?" Mr. Han asks rhetorically.

"No, I don't believe I have," Glam answers, and Jihyun decides it best to interject with his own introduction than to leave the Chairman to choose his words.

"I'm Jihyun Kim," he extends his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Choi."

Her fingers are long and made to look even longer by her nails, which have jewels glued onto them to go with her dress. "I see you already know who I am," she observes, and Jihyun wonders if revealing so may have been a mistake. Her smile afterward tells him otherwise, though.

Jihyun nods. "It would be regrettable to miss a person of your talent."

Glam laughs, and the Chairman joins in. "I'd better watch before you sweep her off her feet and away from me," he jokes.

"Dear, don't worry about that," Glam reassures him, and Jihyun smiles politely. "You're the only one for me."

"How lucky I am," Mr. Han replies, the wrinkles of his face lined in a smile before he turns his attention back to Jihyun. "Please, help yourself to some of the delicacies being served while you mingle tonight. We've had chefs imported from across the globe, and there are some very interesting flavours."

"Thank you, Mr. Han," Jihyun gives them a short bow. "I'll be sure to."

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Kim," the Chairman says. Jihyun thanks him again, and the Chairman turns to speak with another couple, Glam's arm laced through his. Jihyun affords himself a glance over the banister, looking for Jumin, but distinguishing him from others on the floor is a task in and of itself. He's thankful to find he isn't the only one here with an unusual hair colour, though. It seems fashion trends have changed since he was fifteen and started dyeing his.

The best place to start working would be with the ballroom gossip. As the person responsible for keeping up with public opinion, Zen had been able to provide Jihyun with the current talk surrounding Jumin and the Chairman, though he grumbled when Jihyun wouldn't provide a reason for needing the information. According to Zen, the media fixated on a supposed argument that broke out between Jumin and the Chairman, and when Jihyun reached out to ask Jaehee about it, she informed him that reporters were calling every day but that she didn't bother notifying Jumin because he's never interested in engaging them. Supposedly, the rumour receiving the most traction claims Jumin requested his father retire early so Jumin could take over the company.

Glam doesn't just work fast, she works well. The rumour would set the stage for the rest of the evening. Jihyun accepts a glass of sparkling water with a lemon wedge pressed into the edge of the cup from a passing server, then introduces himself to a group of three men leaning against a banister. Networking, after all, is part of the reason C&R holds these parties, so talking to strangers isn't such an unusual thing to do. The men introduce themselves as well—Mr. Jeon, whose mask looks to be made of cracked stone, plated with gold; Mr. Park, wearing a royal purple tuxedo; and Mr. Kang, whose hair is so dark his black mask seems to blend into it.

"I see you arrived late," Mr. Kang comments. "But that means you had reason to have a one-on-one conversation with the Chairman sooner than most of the others here, so perhaps it was a wise decision."

Jihyun smiles. "Speaking to Mr. Han firsthand early on can have its advantages," he says, and the other men murmur their agreement. "How are you enjoying your evening?"

"It's extravagant, as always with C&R," Mr. Park remarks.

"It's only appropriate, considering the value of the tickets," Mr. Jeon shrugs.

"Still," Mr. Park replies. "Something so fanciful seems contradictory… especially with the mask nonsense."

"I like the masks," Mr. Jeon informs him.

Mr. Park looks at Jihyun. "What do you think?"

The idle conversation is perhaps Jihyun's least favourite part of coming to such parties. He'd prefer to listen to other people talk than actually discuss things himself, but being a complete wallflower could have the opposite effect of keeping attention off of himself. "I enjoy some extravagance on New Year's Eve."

"Yes, exactly," Mr. Jeon agrees, and Mr. Park remains silent.

"… I could do without being asked if I've brought a date, though," Mr. Kang comments. "That always seems to become a focus when Mr. Han gets involved with anything."

"Because he always has a different date," Mr. Park adds disdainfully. "He and the newest are actually going to be signing a marriage contract here of all places, and right after the countdown, too… he only just got his divorce a few months ago."

Mr. Jeon nods. "It is quite tasteless, I'll admit that." He looks at Jihyun, seeming to remember he's there. "We had a chance to speak to her earlier… she certainly seems happy about it, though that's no surprise considering what she's marrying into." He gestures toward the dance floor below.

"And she's so much younger than him," notes Mr. Park.

"I suppose she'd receive the bulk of his inheritance if anything were to happen to him," Mr. Kang says.

"Do you think that's why he and his son are supposedly fighting?"

Jihyun's ears perk up at Mr. Jeon's comment. "They're fighting?" he asks.

"People have been talking a lot about it tonight," Mr. Jeon looks at him. "Apparently there's been tension lately."

The talk of the night… so it is severe. Jihyun nods with faux thoughtfulness.

"I haven't really seen the Chairman speak to his son much all night so far," Mr. Kang comments. "So there may be some truth to it."

"Well, it's still a ball," Mr. Jeon disagrees. "He probably has other people to talk to. I don't know though… the guest list seems to have more new people on it than usual, and at a party like this…"

Mr. Park sighs. "Something always happens."

"New people?" Jihyun inquires.

There's a moment of quiet before the orchestra starts playing a new song, and the ballroom goes quiet too, as if the conversations were all turned off at once. Not an uncommon practice at such parties because it allows some small privacy in those few moments where anything said can be more easily overheard, but more importantly to Jihyun, it's a sign that secrets are being exchanged.

"Well…" Mr. Jeon says, head moving up and down exaggeratedly to look Jihyun over. "There's you, for instance… though, actually, you aren't really new, are you? I think I remember you from about three years ago…"

"Yes," Jihyun confirms. "Unfortunately last minute circumstances forced me away the last few years."

"I remember," Mr. Park says. "You said you're a photographer, right? I bought a piece from you after a party one year."

"Oh… of course," Jihyun says, remembering now. It was a simple photo, one of a flower by a brook. Jihyun loved that photo because of the way the sun glistened on the water and reflected onto the flower.

"It hangs in my office now," Mr. Park tells him, and Jihyun gives him a genuine smile.

"I'm honoured."

Mr. Park nods, and Mr. Kang gestures to get their attention, leaning against the railing.

"You can see some of the new people below," he says, assuming a more nonchalant position. "There was one woman who was introduced without a surname, for example, and owners of smaller businesses that C&R doesn't usually deal with… you can tell who they are by their outfits."

Mr. Jeon snickers at that and Mr. Park scoffs at his snickering, but Jihyun's mind is at work. There are only two types of people at this party: attendees, including new guests as well as old ones; and the crew, which includes the kitchen staff, servers, cleanup, security, and ushers. The most obvious and easiest move Glam could make would be to invite the assassin as an extra guest to the ball. The subtlest would be to disguise them as a member of the staff, though because most of them have worked with each other for many years it would be difficult to accomplish such a feat without being caught almost immediately. The least likely move would be to use one of the older guests as the assassin, since Glam's contacts are entirely separate from the Chairman's, and she doesn't have anything to offer guests of this status that they can't obtain themselves through less incriminating methods. The next course of action, consequently, would be to investigate the newer guests—identifiable by, as Mr. Kang pointed out, their lackluster ensembles.

Jihyun spends a few minutes more speaking to the group, then bids the gentlemen a good evening and descends the staircase. He'll have to listen around for more gossip to gauge what others think of the new guests in the room, especially because underdressing is a severe crime in these circles so he can be sure that discussion will abound. First, though, he should check in with Jumin.

Jumin is speaking with the CEO of a major software production company when he sees turquoise hair approaching from the corner of his eye. The parts of C&R that Jumin oversees generally aren't involved in technology production, so it's not a particularly important conversation, and Jumin politely takes his leave of the other in favour of his best friend.

"Enjoying yourself?" Jihyun asks once they're standing in front of each other. Jumin shrugs.

"I suppose so," he answers, and though normally he'd put more effort into faking enthusiasm it's a bit difficult knowing there's likely an assassin in the room and that they could strike at any moment. Though, Jumin supposes, it's most likely the assassin would wait until after the marriage contract is signed to make their move. Jihyun's face doesn't falter, and it's always a bit strange for Jumin to think of how utterly professional his friend is when on a job, even though Jihyun has always been this way. Jumin really ought to collect himself as well, since his nervousness would do him no favours and letting his emotions influence his actions is generally a terrible idea. "Are you?"

"I am," Jihyun answers. "Have you spoken to your father yet all night?"

"Only after I entered," Jumin responds, though now that he's said it he realizes he doesn't have much justification for that, other than a subconscious worry that being around his father would compel him to warn him and make the situation worse than it already is.

"Ah…" Jihyun says.

"I lost track of time, speaking to the people here," Jumin says, in case anyone is listening, which they always are. "The ball is only a few short hours, after all, and the opportunities to communicate with valued contacts are boundless. You're right, though. I should see how my father is doing."

Jihyun gives Jumin the cordial smile he gives everyone, but Jumin can see in it that his friend approves of the direction Jumin has taken the conversation. "Then I'll speak with you later, Jumin."

Jumin agrees, and Jihyun walks the perimeters of the room to greet people, and, perhaps more importantly, to listen in on other people. Jumin moves up the stairs, saying hello to people on the way, and realizes neither his father nor Glam Choi are here anymore, which means they've retreated into one of the private quarters. Jumin swallows. It's customary for his father to leave after a certain amount of entertaining if for no other purpose than to remind the guests of the importance and rareness of his availability, but under tonight's circumstances the prospect of the two of them being alone makes Jumin nervous. He wonders if he should wait for their return since the main purpose of greeting them in the first place would be to appease the guests, but the prospect that his father won't return is too great a burden on his mind, so he asks the security guard at the door to let Jumin into the private quarters as well.

He wanders inside. The ball is held at one of his father's mansions. It isn't one that his father actually lives in during the year, and Jumin suspects he really only owns the place so he can impress women with it. … Actually, now that Jumin considers it, if Glam has been staying here then there's a chance it may be possible to find evidence against her among her belongings in the private quarter. He'll have to scope it out himself later, when he gets the chance.

The halls are excessively long, with more rooms than they would ever need, but Jumin peers into every one that he passes, searching for his father and Glam Choi. The pit in his stomach grows with each step, until finally he turns a corner and hears muffled voices. He softens his footsteps, careful not to be heard, until he can make out the words.

"… tell you how many times, it'd age me," he hears his father laugh.

"Oh, believe me, I know you have a youthful charm to you," Glam's breathy voice slips through the door.

"You're always so bold…" his father replies, and Jumin's lip curls. Forget eavesdropping, he doesn't need to listen to this.

He knocks on the door with the backs of his fingers.

"Who's that?" Glam asks.

"Jumin Han," Jumin answers, though the question isn't directed at him.

He hears some shuffling behind the door. "Ah, give us a moment," his father says, and blood rushes to Jumin's cheeks, regretting coming to check on them. Jumin's not sure why he expected his father would at least have the decency not to do this sort of thing at the most famous event the company holds all year, but clearly it was a mistake.

"… I can come back later," Jumin mutters.

"No, no, I wanted to talk to you," his father says through the door, and Jumin runs his hands over his face and behind his neck with a sigh.

A few moments later, the door opens.

"I apologize for keeping you from your father," Glam says when she opens the door. All her makeup is intact, and Jumin wonders if he might've misjudged the situation… though she may just have good quality makeup. He presses his fingernails hard into the palms of his hands—stop thinking about it.

"It's not a problem," Jumin lies. "I just wanted to see that everything is all right."

"Everything is all right," his father opens the door wider from behind Glam. "And how are you finding the evening?"

"Productive," Jumin states. "I've already officially closed negotiations with six people."

His father raises his eyebrows. "Six?"

"Well, I'm doing what I came to do," Jumin says pointedly.

"Your son is so diligent," Glam comments, and Jumin resists the urge to roll his eyes since they're still visible behind the mask. "I'm impressed."

"Yes…" Jumin's father agrees faintly. "Though, you're at a party, Jumin. Allow yourself to relax for the night. Maybe find a lady to dance with. There are many beautiful women here…"

Jumin takes extra care to keep his face still. His father would know all about that. "I would rather do my work, thank you."

"What about some of the people that Glam suggested for guests?" Jumin's father ignores him. "I spoke to one of them, Sarah, and she seemed like a lovely girl. Actually, I was about to introduce you to her when I saw you discussing work with someone and thought it best not to interrupt you."

"I appreciate it, Father," Jumin replies, stepping further back into the hall.

"Then please, dance with Sarah," his father presses. "I think she'll be a valuable asset to the company. We can discuss it in more detail soon."

Jumin chews his cheek, doubting it and not thrilled by the prospect of dancing a full song with a stranger his unreliable father has judged to be valuable to the company, but even in the private quarters it's worth it to be careful what he says, so he nods obediently. "One dance."

"That's all I ask of you," his father concedes. "Now, let's return to the ball."

His father falls into step beside Jumin and his fiancée next to him—his fiancée who plans to have him murdered this very night. And to think what they were doing before…

Jumin's stomach twists in knots, the effort to keep his mouth shut more enormous and difficult than any task he's undertaken in years. This woman, who his father is so infatuated with as to order Jumin to dance with someone just because she recommended it, would have his father dead… She doesn't deserve his father's affections, but then, few of the ones who receive it actually do.

He remembers Sarah. She was introduced without a surname, which Jumin thought was quite presumptuous considering she's a nobody, and her hair is raspberry pink. His father had made a point to highlight her to Jumin when they were greeting the guests, and Sarah expressed a desire to speak to Jumin later, though most of the others did as well.

Once they've re-entered the ballroom Jumin sweeps the room for her, his eyes skipping over fuchsia and blush until they find her, dressed in an extravagant silver gown with a large skirt of tightly bunched sheer fabric. Her cheeks are very red, and Jumin thinks whoever did her makeup must have used too much blush. She stands alone, drinking from a glass of wine, and he supposes he may as well get this over with.

"I'll speak to you again later, Father," Jumin says. "And you, Ms. Choi."

He leaves their presence with a bow, heads down the stairs and strides around the dance area, stopping a few paces from Sarah to take a breath and collect his nerves. It's only one dance, and he knows it's coming… there's no reason to get worked up over it. It's a ball, dancing is only a formality and the dance floor is hardly a place to discuss business, so she won't have much opportunity to try anything. He just needs to focus on the motions and the music, as he always does when he's needed on missions of this sort… yes. Ultimately, this is a mission, and if he focuses on that aspect it will make going through with the dance easier than remembering his father asked this of him.

He can't just linger here for long, anyway, or people will wonder, so he takes the final steps to Sarah.

"Good evening, Sarah," Jumin says, and she turns to face him. "I believe we met earlier."

"Ah, Jumin Han," Sarah acknowledges with a smile. "We did, but not for very long. I'm glad you came over to talk to me. Your father told me you would, though."

Jumin gives her a short nod. "May I have this dance?" he asks, offering his hand, and Sarah's mask is lifted slightly off her cheeks when she grins and accepts it. They step out together onto the dance floor with a few other couples, facing each other and exchanging bows as the music starts again.

Jihyun sees Jumin walk onto the dance floor, a woman with pink hair holding his hand, and tunes out momentarily from the conversation the nearby couple was having that he'd been listening in on. Sarah… Jihyun learned her name through the comments of many of the guests, most of whom didn't recognize her and hadn't heard of her company. Jumin doesn't like to dance with strangers, and ensuring he is forced to face situations that make him uncomfortable as little as possible is a task Jihyun took upon himself years ago, often by asking his friend to dance just to keep others on the floor away from him. Jumin is a good dancer, though, and probably looks natural to the majority of the guests, though Jihyun knows him well enough to note his stiffer-than-usual shoulders. Jumin had only just exited the private quarters, so Jihyun guesses it was probably the Chairman's idea for Jumin to dance with her…

Or perhaps it was Glam's idea. Jihyun narrows his eyes and steps closer to the balcony, pretending to be watching the dance taking place below while listening for the thoughts of those around him. He'd already learned from eavesdropping earlier that people were questioning Jumin's relationship with her, since Sarah had supposedly thanked him specifically for her invitation.

"…certainly doesn't take after his father," a woman standing nearby says. "How old is he anyway? Nearly thirty, I believe? And it took him this long to get a single date?"

Jumin would be pleased to hear that one, except for the part about Sarah being his date.

"Yes, well… one has to wonder, considering what's supposedly afoot tonight," the lady standing with her says. "Invited by the Chairman's son, and no one's ever heard of her… and then there's the rumours."

"Hush!" her friend urges. "Someone might hear you."

Jihyun sighs. He's not sure how Glam managed to convince the other attendees that Sarah is Jumin's guest, but now he knows he's not the only one suspicious about the girl dancing below's reasons for being at the party. This dance isn't really making things any better for their cause. It almost seems… too obvious, considering Glam had assigned Jihyun the objective of stopping the assassination. Why is she making it so easy for him?

Below, Jumin is mesmerizing. His motions are smooth, each one blending into the next in perfect time with the shifting music notes. He leads the dance, and Sarah keeps up with skilled, practiced motions—actually.

Jihyun leans against the banister. Sarah's footwork is precise, in fact, it's as precise as Jumin's, with light steps that would be near silent even if the orchestra were to stop playing. Jihyun glances around at the other guests to see if they notice, but no one comments on it, which he supposes isn't strange since only someone trained to know what skills benefit agents would know to look for them. In any case, it lends credibility to the theory—it's likely that Sarah is involved somehow in Glam Choi's plot.

Sarah's mask goes over the tip of her nose and covers her eyes and some of her forehead, so it's not entirely disguising, but it's clear from other guests that no one at this party has heard of her. If her name was only stated as written by Glam for the guest list and announced along with some company with no prominence—perhaps one started for the express purpose of this mission—it's possible that with her hair dyed a less noticeable colour she'd be completely unrecognizable once the plot is complete.

Jihyun resists the urge to chew his lip, lost in thought. Sarah… if she's not the assassin herself then she's a distraction. Or a scapegoat. If she's skilled enough, she might be able to escape right after the task is complete, and the attention would be on Jumin, the one most people here are convinced is plotting some move against the Chairman and who is now dancing with her on the ballroom floor.

Glam doesn't know about Jihyun's connection to Jumin, nor does she know that Jihyun himself is the one she hired for this job. If things had gone according to Glam's plan, right now it would be very obvious to Jihyun that Sarah is the assassin, and he, like the guests, would be watching Jumin dance with her and perhaps hypothesizing that the two of them are in a relationship, and that Jumin plans to find a way to clear her name once his father is dead.

Jihyun closes his eyes.

If Jumin were really plotting to assassinate his father tonight, wouldn't he want to do it before the marriage contract is signed? If the assassination were to occur after that, then he'd have to share his fortune with Glam. But if it happens before the signing, then Glam won't receive any of Chairman Han's money, which would be counter-productive. It would have to occur after the fact. But in that case… even with the motive she's created for Jumin, it'd be obvious that Glam is the one who'd benefit most from a strike against the Chairman after the contract is signed.

Jihyun is distracted from his thoughts when the room bursts into applause, and he looks down at the ballroom floor to see Jumin holding Sarah in a low dip, and the two of them straighten together. Of course… Jumin always prefers a grand finale.

Jihyun claps too, masking his frustration. There could not be a worse time for Jumin to be showing off, though Jihyun is glad to see Jumin is well enough after the dance despite the discomfort he must have felt.

He feels his work phone move in his suit pocket with three long vibrations and glances casually around the ballroom. It can't be anyone other than Glam, since that's the vibrate tone he set for her, but if he takes out his phone here he'll reveal himself. Glam is downstairs, somewhere out of Jihyun's line of sight, but that doesn't mean she or any of the other guests she's invited can't see him. And if he excuses himself now, that'll draw even more suspicion.

He'll have to check it out later, though it's most likely that the message will be pointing out Sarah as the potential assassin. What he really needs now is something concrete, some sign of what the actual plan is to take down the Chairman so that he can make his move to stop it. For now, he still has time, at least until the Chairman and Glam sign the marriage contract, but without an understanding of what move Sarah will make, it's difficult to assess how he should retaliate. Assuming, of course, that Sarah really is the assassin.

Jihyun sees Jumin break away from a short conversation with her to speak with a few guests who approached him—two of them dressed with the kind of customary extravagance expected for this sort of party, and the last one in a simple red gown Jihyun thinks Mr. Kang would scoff at. If Glam really wants this assassination to happen, then she could just be throwing Sarah at Jihyun as a red herring. Would Glam really go to such lengths?

He thinks back to his and Jumin's earlier thought that there may be no assassin at all, a notion they'd dismissed almost as soon as it was suggested. After all, it wouldn't make sense for Glam to go through the trouble of unearthing contact information for Jihyun's organization, which also happens to be very expensive to hire, just to pretend she made some effort in stopping an assassination that isn't going to take place.

But what if hiring Jihyun isn't just a backup plan in case the assassination fails? She must know of the organization's reputation—they rarely fail missions, and had influence in some of the most important matters in the country through their work. If Glam had the resources to hire Jihyun to stop the assassination, then surely she also had the resources to hire Jihyun's organization to carry through the assassination in the first place. Known for having contacts almost everywhere, Jihyun could have put together a highly sophisticated assassination, perhaps more sophisticated than whatever Sarah and Glam currently have planned. Why hire such a competent organization to topple a plan that you want to see succeed?

Jihyun feels his heart race in his chest, and he grips the railing a little tighter to steady his shaking hands, realizing he might have been thinking about the entire situation incorrectly from the very beginning.

Perhaps Glam never intended for the assassination to succeed. Perhaps her only goal for the night is to cast Jumin out of the picture.

And if that's the case, then they may have less time than Jihyun thought.

Down the stairs, across the room, engaged in a conversation with the owner of a cosmetics franchise from the Middle East and trying to calm down his rattling heart in the aftermath of having to dance with a stranger he's now certain is going to try to kill his father, Jumin has come to the same conclusion. The care Sarah took in her motions wasn't one of a dancer, and even hidden as her legs are beneath her many layers of skirts Jumin noticed she kept her right leg stiff for the entirety of the dance. A weapon, then, probably tucked against her leg in a stocking or something similar, long enough to reach past her knee. The long skirts disguise her limping for the most part, so much so that even Jumin didn't notice at first, though his sharp perception is part of what makes him a good agent. The dance was a mistake.

A passing server offers drinks and Jumin accepts a wine glass, his first drink all night, taking a few sips to calm his nerves. The dance made Jumin realize something very important that he'd neglected to pay attention to before—he too is an agent, and that is something Glam doesn't know—a fact that can be used to his advantage in more ways than just to be aware the assassination attempt will happen.

He sees Jihyun coming down the stairs in his peripheral vision and excuses himself from speaking to the cosmetics specialist, noting a subtle urgency to the way Jihyun walks that tells Jumin the wine is probably the only thing that'll grant him any amount of relaxation tonight. He fights the instinctual desire to meet Jihyun halfway so not to look suspicious.

"Jumin," Jihyun starts, and Jumin can tell instantly that they're thinking the same thing, Jihyun's mouth set in a grim line.

"I know," Jumin replies, and Jihyun nods, believing him without needing further clarification. In times like this, it really strikes Jumin how useful it is that they've known each other and spent nearly all their time together for over twenty years. While he does have a general understanding of nonverbal cues in communication, his friend's particular patterns are etched so strongly into his mind that even when working and deliberately disguising their responses he can still read Jihyun effortlessly.

The strike will happen soon. He takes another sip of the wine, the more imminent threat replacing the dance again as the most pressing stressor on his mind. It also doesn't help that Jumin hates this song, the bow screeching deliberately across the violin, and he grinds his teeth in annoyance.

"So then…" Jihyun murmurs, soft enough that all the noise nearly overpowers his voice. Jumin can see him struggling to convey his meaning without the conversation sounding strange to any potential eavesdroppers. If Glam's only purpose for the evening is to frame Jumin, then the variables are at once more and less complicated than they were when the two of them thought the assassination was meant to actually work. With a weapon attached to Sarah's leg, the possibility that the assassination is a multi-step plan that required much prior conceptualization is a lot smaller. Sarah would be the only person to make a move on Jumin's father. "A party as large as this one is an excellent setting for announcements that one wishes to receive a lot of attention."

Jihyun emphasizes the word to let Jumin know to replace it in his mind, but he needn't have because Jumin know what he means. It wasn't accidental that Glam chose the biggest party of the year for the assassination, especially because she doesn't actually intend for it to occur. All she needs is a spectacle, and that much is a clue they can work with. Jumin takes another sip of wine, closing his eyes and trying to focus. "I… suppose it follows that if one really wanted an announcement to get attention, they would make that announcement during the main event of the night."

Jumin's eyes open, and Jihyun's voice joins his in unison. "The countdown."

Of course… it would be happening right before the signing of the marriage contract. Jumin nearly forgot about what the New Year's Eve party actually means in all his stress about the marriage and the assassination. He and Jihyun watch one another for a moment, then Jihyun gives Jumin a short nod, and Jumin takes a long drink from his glass as his friend pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time.

"… It's ten thirty-seven," Jihyun informs him.

An hour and twenty-three minutes, then. That could be a lot of time or none at all, depending on what the plan is, and currently, they don't have one. Unsure of what to say, he brings the glass to his lips again. His father will surely want to kiss his girlfriend when the clock strikes, as he does with a different girlfriend every year. If the assassin strikes right at midnight, they may not be able to make as much of a commotion with all the focus being on the celebrations. That leaves two options—they'll either strike soon, before the beginning of the countdown—or wait until after, during the signing of the contract.

Ideally, Jumin and Jihyun would be able to find some kind of evidence of Glam's involvement before the attempt actually occurs, and expose her as well as stop the assassination all at once. But with a simpler plan involving just one assassin and some kind of large weapon, the probability that any tracks would be left behind is small.

"Jumin," Jihyun urges gently when Jumin moves to take another sip, and he stops himself when he realizes the glass is empty.

Jumin mumbles a thank you, and Jihyun nods.

"I'm starting to think," Jihyun muses, and Jumin folds his arms, the glass still held in one hand waiting for a server to pass carrying a tray he can place it on. "That instead of being preoccupied with details, we should be focusing on you."

"On me?" Jumin raises an eyebrow and feels it touch the inside of the mask. He'd nearly forgotten he was wearing one.

Jihyun nods. "We know what the purpose of the announcer is, and we should rethink our own purpose accordingly."

Glam's purpose…

So Jihyun is suggesting they shift their focus from stopping the assassination and put it instead on clearing Jumin's name. He looks up with surprise when Jihyun touches his arm, pulse accelerating again when he remembers dancing with Sarah.

"There's a way you can do both," Jihyun says. "One certain way that you can do both."

Jihyun needn't say anything more. While Glam may have chosen the party for her setting to publicly besmirch Jumin's name and relationship with his father forever, its high-profile nature also provides an opportunity for an act that could protect Jumin's reputation as a loving son for the rest of his life. It's simple, really, but it's a plan that could never work without Jumin's training as an agent.

Glam doesn't know the identities of anyone in the organization. She doesn't know Jihyun is Jumin's closest, and indeed only, friend, nor does she know that the Jihyun Kim she met for the first time earlier today is the person she hired to stop the assassination. Had Jumin been the person in the organization to keep track of mission assignments, it would've been him who picked up the phone to talk to Glam.

"So… you're saying we should wait," Jumin voices, and Jihyun gives him a small smile.

Wait until the assassination attempt happens, and use his own skills to publicly save his father's life.

Jumin's breath hitches. "What if I'm too slow?"

His friend's smile doesn't falter, and after a moment, Jumin nods. The risk of failure is always present, but Jumin isn't one to fail. Jihyun, of course, will still be here in case anything goes wrong, but it'd be preferable not to risk blowing his cover as an agent if they're really going to wait until the assassination actually happens to stop it.

He inhales shakily. "I may need another glass of wine."

"Be careful," Jihyun warns.

"I always am."

With nothing left to do but wait, Jihyun figures he may as well try to enjoy himself. It's difficult, though, knowing what a hard time Jumin is having. It's understandable. Jumin didn't bring any weapons to the ball, and what defending the Chairman would actually consist of is difficult to identify. It could mean stepping in to bodily protect him, or attacking Sarah, and Jumin and Jihyun's impaired ability to communicate due to the setting means there's no way to definitively know which Jumin is planning to go with. It's also discomforting to think of the distressing situation they're going to allow the Chairman to be put in, but they can't expose Sarah beforehand without evidence and it's possible she's been instructed to claim Jumin hired her if captured.

The servers are all dressed in simple black dress shirts and pants, with white masks that frame their eyes. A few of them serve at the tables around the ballroom floor. There are more tables upstairs, and while there is no official dinnertime scheduled in, anyone who chooses to sit is offered a menu to order off of, with all costs covered completely by the company. Jihyun notices most people who have chosen to eat ask for steak, and he sees Mr. Park is one of the people sitting down, engaged in conversation with another businessperson and seeming to use the table as a place for a meeting. Fitting, considering he didn't seem to enjoy the opulent displays put on by the Chairman for this event.

"Something light?" a server asks, holding a tray out to Jihyun, who's been standing by the wall alone for a few minutes now. The hors d'oeuvres are colourful, each one prepared with a precision that makes Jihyun wonder how much time it all takes. The Chairman did say that the chefs had been brought in from around the world, but that's not very strange for any meal provided by Jumin's family.

"Thank you," Jihyun says, delicately taking a canapé topped with a slice of folded smoked salmon, and the server moves on. He takes a bite, and as always, it doesn't disappoint, light and easy to eat without having to open his mouth too wide. It's eleven forty-five, and when he hears the Chairman's voice projected through speakers around the room, it occurs to Jihyun that he hasn't danced all night.

"Good evening, everyone," the Chairman says, standing at the top of the grand staircase. His fiancée stands at his side, and all heads in the room turn to look at them. "Thank you all for joining us here tonight. It's been an eventful evening, and I am always honoured that our most favoured partners have chosen to celebrate the New Year here with us at C&R."

Jihyun swallows, and the Chairman launches into listing all the new deals and contracts C&R signed over the course of the night, thanking each one that he names. Jumin is upstairs too, obscured by the railing, having been speaking to someone seated when his father stepped up. He's too far away for Jihyun to discern his expression, but he joins the crowd in clapping after each statement his father makes. The Chairman then goes on to discuss C&R's various accomplishments, most of which, Jihyun notes, are credited to Jumin's department.

"As a company," the Chairman goes on once he's concluded his list. "We've learned and grown over the past year. Our old relationships have become stronger, and we are grateful for all the new ones that we've made, and look forward to a long and prosperous future of business together."

He beams, and steps aside, arm held out in a gesture toward the woman on his left. "Of course, on a personal note, business relationships are not the only ones I've made this year. By now, all of you must have met her, and if you haven't, then you've certainly noticed her unparalleled beauty—"

Glam laughs, and Jihyun's eyes flit across the room to Mr. Kang, who's loudly coughing, then back to the Chairman.

"Meeting her was the best thing that has happened in my personal life this year," he says. "And I am so glad to announce that in about six minutes, after the countdown to the New Year, we will be signing a contract of marriage officially, and the date of our wedding in spring. Glam… thank you for being by my side this year."

Glam gives him a shining smile, taking his arm in hers. "Thank you for being by mine."

The crowd bursts into polite applause, slightly muffled since most people's hands are gloved.

"Before the night is over," the Chairman says. "I would like to ask my fiancée for the last dance of the year."

He takes one of Glam's hands in his and begins to move it to his lips.

And a voice breaks out across the room.

"Everybody, get down!"

Someone screams, and Jihyun and the others standing under the balcony's heads turn, searching for the source of the outburst.

"I said, get down!"

There's a loud sound like a firework.

The crowd freezes.

Something falls from above the balcony, hitting the floor with a loud, crushing thud, and Jihyun's eyes widen as he realizes it's one of the party's security guards.

He ducks, and when he angles his head upwards he sees her.

Sarah.

Standing in her ball gown, mask still covering her face, a long black rifle over her shoulder and aiming straight ahead at the opposite side of the room, where the Chairman and Glam have dropped to their knees.

"Except," Sarah's voice rings out, echoing across the now-silent ballroom. "For the Chairman, and his fiancée."

The entire room seems to hold its breath, a deep and silent ocean as Glam begins to move, and the Chairman rises shakily with her to face the woman with the gun.

"Put your hands up," Sarah instructs. "Or I'll—"

"Stop!"

The silence cracks.

Jumin stands, and Jihyun sees Sarah stiffen, hands tightening around the rifle.

"Drop your weapon," he orders. Jihyun looks at Glam, whose arms are raised, her jaw hanging open mutedly.

At her side, the Chairman clenches his fists. "Jumin, what are you—"

Sarah's lips tighten, and she refocuses her weapon on the Chairman again. He falls silent.

"Then I have no choice," Jumin says.

He picks something up from the dinner table beside him, and Sarah's lips move but have no time to emit a sound as Jumin propels his body forward, and something flies across the room.

"Sarah!" Glam cries, and almost in slow motion, Sarah's gun drops, falling to the ballroom floor with a loud clatter as the woman is knocked backwards and out of Jihyun's field of vision. All heads turn to Glam, who clamps her hands over her mouth.

"You're worried about her?" the Chairman demands incredulously, and the room is in motion, people teeming toward the staircase to check that the Chairman is all right. Glam's voice is drowned out by footsteps, and Jihyun sees Jumin sink down into one of the chairs by the table, all his limbs seeming to collapse into it.

Jihyun runs for the stairs to be with his friend, shifting his way between the crowd and down the hall, breaths shallow by the time he reaches Jumin.

"I—" his friend stammers, and Jihyun squeezes his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to pull Jumin into his arms.

"That was amazing," Jihyun says, and more people come to stand around Jumin as one of the security guards shouts from the other side of the room, "I think she's dead!"

The crowd only becomes louder, and then there's a sound like a gunshot that shocks the room into silence.

Then they hear another, and another again, and realization dawns over everyone at the same time.

Jihyun murmurs to Jumin, "Happy new year."

Jumin and Jihyun stand in the private quarters, having retreated once the commotion became too much to bear. Outside, Glam is being swarmed with questions, the preservation of the Chairman's life is being celebrated, and while people were distracted with Sarah's apparent corpse, Jumin and Jihyun slipped behind the large double doors.

"… They're going to ask how I did that," Jumin states, leading Jihyun into one of the bedrooms. It's spacious, with large windows that overlook the gardens covered in snow this time of year, and Jumin opens it to let in the cold, fresh air.

"Don't worry about that right now," Jihyun tells him. The fireworks in the distance are still going, lighting the room with brief moments of colour. Jumin sighs, and Jihyun steps beside him. "The important thing is that you saved your father."

"He wasn't really in danger," Jumin murmurs. "You know that."

"Well, yes," Jihyun admits. "… Still. The mission was a success, because of you."

That makes Jumin smile, and Jihyun feels relief wash over him at the sight of it.

"Ours was," he says, amusement in his voice. "Glam's was a colossal failure, I think."

Jihyun grins. "Well, we did technically save the Chairman, so we did what she claimed she could pay us to do."

"That's true," Jumin agrees. His breath makes white puffs appear in the air, and Jihyun realizes his friend's nose is already red though the window's barely been open for a full minute.

Jihyun closes his hand over Jumin's, then leans forward to give his cheek a quick kiss. Jumin's eyes are closed when Jihyun pulls back.

"You did very well," Jihyun says. "Really. I think this was probably the most high-stress mission you've ever done, and you made everything go perfectly."

"Thank you," Jumin responds. Jihyun squeezes his hand. "If it's you saying it, then I'll believe you."

Jihyun nods. Jumin's trust in him is something he never takes lightly, and it's been a very long night.

"It's nice to finally get some quiet," Jumin says, apparently thinking the same thing Jihyun is.

"I quite liked the music, actually," Jihyun teases.

"Don't be irritating," Jumin snorts. "Did you see her rifle? I understand that the ballroom is large, but it hardly justifies such a large gun."

Jihyun laughs. "I suppose her dress was big enough to hide it. It looked like a chiffon cake."

Jumin shakes his head, then straightens away from the window to face Jihyun fully. Jihyun mimics his motions. "Really…" he says, his voice taking a more serious tone. "Thank you for being here with me all night. You're always there when I need you, Jihyun."

"I know you're always there for me too," Jihyun tells him. Jumin smiles.

"Ah… there was something I wanted to ask you," Jumin says.

Jihyun inclines his head. What more is there to say, after everything?

"If you're not too tired after all that—"

"You're the one who should be tired," Jihyun reminds him. Jumin presses a finger to Jihyun's lips, and he flushes.

"Even so," Jumin continues. "I noticed you haven't danced all night, and I'm not used to not dancing with you at these events. So…"

Jihyun grins at Jumin's awkwardness, lights dancing across his mask and face. "I'd like that."

In near silence, save for the occasional crack of fireworks, Jumin takes his hand.

#juminvweek #JuminV #Jumin Han #V (Mystic Messenger)#Jihyun Kim #my writing #Tesneem's art #you have no idea how long this took #glad it's over and i really hope y'all like it !

92 notes · View notes

hypotheticalheatherhour · 7 years

Text

HRC Speech at ALA in Chicago comments forced me to admit the truth

I watched HRC’s speech this morning on my FB feed, my college Librarian (a woman both brilliant and quirky in the most delightful way) attended the conference and posted status updates, brief but full of excited anticipation. Her photos of the audience (b/c they showed up at the bottom of the frame meant to capture the enormous theatre screen announcing their speaker and the topic of her address) portrayed a similar feeling of giddiness generally associated with tweeners at a boy band concert. I watched the entire speech, reminded of the hope I felt in the days leading up to the election, the dance mobs and other waves of positive action and empowerment when faced with misogyny and bigotry. During the campaign (in a fashion similar to Presidents and Mrs. Obama) the former Secretary of State, senator and Yale law graduate, maintained a seemingly unflappable poise and decorum, tempered by wry humor when appropriate. Her address at the ALA carried those same notes and displays of character and I enjoyed it immensely.

I decided to watch it a second time, only I read the comments scrolling at the bottom from viewers in the second run through. There was a great deal of impassioned and eloquent support, but of course the platform did not provide a filter excluding trolls, the ignorant or the malicious.

From what I gleaned reading through (admittedly after the first few dozen I started skimming past those) the comments decrying HRC’s speech did so not on the content of her speech, nor on any factual basis. Generally it consisted of something like, “she’s an evil bitch, Thank God the Dems were stupid enough to run her, Satan’s baby killing instrument, money grubbing whore and closet Trump supporting hypocrite.” (I particularly enjoyed that last bit.)

While our nation remains divided and more freedoms are being lost DAILY, that kind of vitriol in response to her support and advocacy for libraries, education and protecting segments of the population largely denied a voice (and approaching a future where they could be silenced entirely) I found myself pondering reactions and commentary I have seen and heard from people in my life, past and present, regarding HRC and was forced to a conclusion I had been denying insofar because I could not believe it to be actual truth.

All the hate, all the attacks, all the malevolence that has been directed towards this eloquent and educated woman derives its origin from her gender and her failure/refusal to ascribe to/portray femininity in a manner palatable to much of the public. Like President Obama, Secretary Clinton maintained unrelenting decorum because the standard for any member of a minority class is set higher, else their behavior and any lack seen in it will be labeled the result of their otherness.

Meanwhile I have heard so many complaints of liberals and democrats failing to observe courtesy, viciously attacking the sitting President in an un-patriotic display of petulance and behaving with a selfish and nasty attitude undermining national unity.

Yes the screaming in my head is very VERY loud when that happens.

1. HRC won the popular vote by more than 3 million votes; however, gerrymandering, citizens united and press agencies willing to employ false propaganda have circumvented the will of the governed and raped the democratic process up and down the board.

2. The absence of a well informed electorate that allowed the first to happen could also result in an ever growing reality of Oligarchy as the current government and is paving the way for a tsunami sized wave wiping out our civil liberties and a Grand Canyon sized schism between the law of the land and the Constitution set forth by the framers.

3. Religious fundamentalism masquerades as morality and ethics and an area of commonality and shared experience between those in power and their “base”. (I don’t know what is more terrifying, that publicly identifying as a Christian fundamentalist is recognized by the Republican base as positive evidence those elected will act to serve the good of the people-while engaging in behavior Judas would heartily approve up; or the instances, as with Vice President Pence, where those claiming a real belief in the rightness of a kind of christian manifest destiny in our government and showing a willingness to pursue it.)

So, yes, we are justifiably angry and NO we will not shut up about it just because you think we should. Sitting quietly by is how Germany got to enjoy Adolphy and his wild and fun shenanigans.

My next thought: how do I start a grassroots movement in rural Mississippi?

#imwithher

1 note · View note

shianhygge-imagines · 7 years

Text

REQUEST: Hardships Included [Wrench/Reader]

Last update for the weekend, since I’ll be out for a long while for Chinese New Year celebrations.

This one was weird for me to write, as I usually write for the reader to be more gung ho and feisty when confronted with a conflict... (unless it involves feelings. It’s okay to feel like you have to run from feelings...) As a result, I had to tweak my writing to suit the prompt. I hope it’s not too terrible.

|Masterlist|

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

It had been a simple note on your desk at work that did it. A simple blue sticky note attached to a manilla folder with the words “Leave the country, or I’ll tell everyone what you did” written on it. For many people, the folder was unassuming and normal, not even remotely considered packed with pages. No. It was the title on the folder’s tab that had you running for the hills.

The Masquerade Incident.

~~~~~~~~~

It was something you wanted to forget. An incident that happened when you were a young teenager, barely 14 years of age. When you closed your eyes, you could sometimes recall the face of that man. The man you helped kill that night.

You weren’t supposed to be at Masquerade, not only because of your young age, but because your parents always conducted business there when they weren’t supposed to. The club was always packed even when you were young, and the married couple who owned it always established clear rules to their customers. Still, your parents didn’t pay attention to the rules and decided to hold meetings at Masquerade. The people that your parents dealt with were unseemly and shady, yet despite the warnings by both your parents and the club owners, you managed to sneak into the club one night.

The world was full of sick people, but you had yet to know that. The club looked lively. Various people of different social classes danced to the beat of the music, indulging in the drinks that the bar provided. You tried your best not to be seen that night, but the one of the club owners, Chikage, ended up spotting you after twenty minutes. Your first instinct, upon seeing the tall man’s intimidating red glare was to turn around and bolt. But when you did, you’d collided with a man with slicked back brown hair, dark shades, and an expensive suit. The man stumbled, his drink tipping over to stain his suit, and he glared at you.

Before you knew it, the man was angrily dragging you towards the bathrooms, growling that he would teach you a lesson. The people within the club didn’t seem to care that a young teenager was about to get beaten in the bathrooms, only carrying out their business with a blind eye. From the distance, you could see Chikage gently maneuvering through the crowd to find you, and you had tried to catch his attention. Chikage was scary, but he was kind, and you’d take a scolding from Chikage and Isa over getting beaten or killed by a stranger any day. But you were too late in crying out, getting thrown into the bathroom by the man. You fought back, throwing punches and kicks as the man descended upon you, trying to grab your neck. Unfortunately, the man was much larger than you and had easily overpowered you, sadistically pinning you down and choking you out.

You had grabbed at anything within reach, eventually catching hold of the end of the trash can and bringing it down on the man, prompting him to let go enough for you to slip past and take hold of the metal handled mob, bringing it down on the man as he was getting up. The adrenaline pumping through you made you bring the metal handle up and down in many quick successions even though you had long cracked the man’s skull. And you didn’t stop until your small form had been engulfed in two warm arms, and someone stopped you from bringing the pole down on the man again.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Y/N. The bad man won’t hurt you anymore.” Isa gently whispered to you, stroking your head. You glanced up at the arm that stopped you from continuing the violence against the man.

Chikage only gazed at you with bored but kind red eyes before addressing his fiance. “Isa, take the child up to the second floor. I’ll take care of the body.” You wanted to speak because the man on the floor was still making noise, but a look from Chikage shut you up, his red eyes looking like they were glowing in the dim light of the bathroom. “Not a word of this to anyone, Y/N. If anyone related to this man found out about what you did, everyone you know will be in danger. So let me take care of this scum.” You nodded in understanding and moved with Isa. As Isa led you out of the bathroom, Chikage caught her arm and gently pressed a kiss to the side of her head, “I’ll be with you soon, my love.”

It was only years later that you understood the true meaning behind Chikage’s words. The man that attacked you had been incredibly dangerous, and if he had been left alive despite all the damage you did to his skull, you would be putting yourself, your family, your friends, Chikage, and Isa in danger. But Chikage and Isa had erased all trace of the man’s body all those years ago. How did anybody know that you were involved in the murder?

You pondered this as you made your way to the Hackerspace. The first idea that came to your mind was to do as the note on the folder had instructed. If you didn’t leave the country immediately, there was no telling what would happen to the people closest to you. And as a result, you were on your way to see you closest friends. You had to leave DedSec.

“Wrench…” He was so good to you, your boyfriend, and he would no doubt fight you on your decision. He would fight and kill if it meant keeping you by his side after all. But you’d hesitate in involving him or the other members of DedSec in another problem on top of the work you guys did against Blume. No. That would be burdening them, and you didn’t want to do that.

Waving hello to the few employees of the game store that covered for the Hackerspace, you quietly strolled into the back room, glancing around before activating the trap door into the basement. You smiled fondly at the artwork across from the doorway and slowly made your way down the stairs, pausing just before you rounded the corner, physically preparing yourself for what would come next. And when you resumed walking, a body collided with yours, and you found yourself pressed to the wall as your boyfriend lifted his mask to give you a loving kiss.

With the mask hanging off the top of his head when he pulled back, you could only see the bottom of Wrench’s nose and smile, “I missed you, babe.” the anarchist confessed with a pout before going back to smiling, kissing you again.

You giggled against Wrench’s soft lips and wrapped your arms around his neck, “If I didn’t leave occasionally, you’d get bored of me, hun. And we can’t have that.” you teased, pressing a kiss at the crook of his neck.

Wrench moaned in delight, “Oooh, don’t tempt me, Y/N. The others won’t like it if I lose control.” And then, Wrench pulled away, “But first of all, I want to know why you bought a one way ticket to Sweden.” The sudden change in mood startled you into turning your head away, and Wrench clicked his tongue disapprovingly, sliding the mask back onto his face properly. “Babe, if there’s something wrong, you have to let me know, okay?” The mask changed, ( /_\ ) and Wrench’s voice seemed sad, “It’s not something I did, right?”

All at once, your boyfriend’s posture changed to that of a kicked puppy, ready for punishment… ready to retreat into himself. And you didn’t like it when Wrench was sad in any way, and you certainly didn’t like it when the man felt like you were upset with him. Immediately, you had your boyfriend in a tight embrace, “No. You didn’t do anything wrong, Wrench. It was me.”

“‘It’s not you, it’s me’ huh?” Wrench’s voice seemed despondent, “That’s what they all say before they lea-”

“I’m not breaking up with you, Wrench.” you insisted firmly, tightening your embrace to emphasis. “I’d never…” you whispered into the studded vest, pressing closer despite your cheek’s discomfort. “I love you too much.” It was quiet, your declaration of love, but Wrench heard it regardless, and his arms were around you once again.

“Then why are you leaving?” ah, the million dollar question.

Taking in a deep breath, you sighed and began your explanation about the events at Masquerade all those years ago, and the subsequent blackmail folder this morning. “I didn’t want to bother any of you, so I decided to comply with the blackmailer’s terms.” You glanced away from your boyfriend and the rest of DedSec, who had gathered around to listen to your explanation. “I just didn’t want to inconvenience any of you.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments before Marcus came up to you with a solemn look on his face. You thought that perhaps you would be asked to leave when Marcus lightly fist bumped your forehead, earning a yelp from you. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” Marcus grinned and ruffled your hair, “You’re problems aren’t an inconvenience. And if that fucker thinks that they can get away with blackmailing you, then they’re in for a wake up call. Josh?”

“I’m already searching through the security footage.” Josh was at his computer in a flash, typing away.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. You won’t have to leave the US.” Sitara winked before turning around and going back to work.

Ray merely grinned, tipping his hat at you, “Looks like your friends have your back, so don’t be afraid to rely on them, kid.”

“Y/N.” Wrench gently turned your face back to him, his back facing the rest of DedSec as he took his mask off to look you in the eyes. There was determination shining in his blue green orbs, and love. “You remember what I said when we first started dating right?”

You furrowed your brows in thought before you smiled fondly at your boyfriend, nodding, “Yeah. I remember.”

Taking your face in his hands, Wrench brought you in for a passionate kiss. Pulling back, he muttered, “I love you, Y/N. So believe me when I make my promises. I’ll always be by your side-”

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the embrace.

“-hardships included.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shian imagines #requests #reader x wrench #wrench #watch dogs 2 wrench #wrench x reader #wrench imagine #dedse #watch dogs 2 #watchdogsimagines #marcus holloway #josh sauchak #raymond kenney #sitara dhawan #horatio carlin

597 notes · View notes

2towels · 7 years

Text

Hope Will Have to Do [V:LD, Chapter 3]

A Voltron: Legendary Defender fic. This is probably gonna be really fucking long. Have mercy on me.

Theme: Vigilante AU

Pairings (Don’t get your hopes up they’re not too heavy yet): Keith/Lance, Pidge/Robots (otp), Shiro/Allura, Hunk/Shay

Rating: T-ish (Swearing, detailed depictions of violence)

Words Total: 15012

Last Chapter: Here

Next Chapter: Soon

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Day Setting, Alternate Universe - Heroes, the vigilante AU everyone wanted, Strap in it’s gonna get gay, hwhtd, grocery store AU

Chapter Summary: The beginnings of a team: Hunk breathes life and fear into everything, Keith lies, Pidge Confronts, Allura is Confronted, Coran is proud of his Space Nephew, and Lance puts his best leg forward while Shay cleans up.

Alternate Title: I did in fact update my AO3 over a week ago before remembering it needed to be posted here, too. //salutes

Read on AO3

Altean Markets was a pure source of mystery for everyone who worked there--even their most trusted employees, it seemed, were always surprised at new quirks in the old 'castle'. Allura took good care of the store her father had built, with the support of her closest family, Coran, and the both of them took even greater care to protect its secrets.

Allura never minded divulging the story to those who asked. However, she was careful to make sure it was all they were getting out of her. Everyone could know Alfor Altea had left his spot as the Chief of Arus Police suddenly to pursue his homely dream. Everyone could know he used to have a business partner, and they could pull little else out of Allura. The rest, she knew, was a sacred and dangerous secret.

Coran had approached her the second the newspaper had arrived in the morning, weeks ago. It announced a Blue Paladin, a masked hero of sorts, engaging in resistance against the Galra. Coran seemed proud, as if he knew something she didn't (a notion that was always uncomfortable), but Allura could only find herself to be irritated, at first.

The effort was noble and foolish, especially alone, and Allura almost had the thought of him being a good distraction, but there was no way he could know what he was getting into (he? he looked like a he, but sometimes Allura remembered better than to assume). If he uncovered anything or made any grounds, it would be useful to immediately have his assistance. If anything, she could scare him into giving up and going back to safety while he still could.

That was a few weeks ago, now, and Allura hadn't taken very long narrowing down the population of Arus to suspected Paladins. She had been the top of her class, studying Law Enforcement and Private Investigation--and not for nothing--and Coran interjected new thoughts and angles when her tired eyes swam too much with all the information she had to sort through.

The hospital had reported nothing to the inquiring newspaper, thought Allura had safely decided that it was for lack of information rather than concealing his identity. That alone left the question of whether the Blue Paladin was crafty enough to keep himself unharmed or if he was knowledgeable enough to care for his own wounds. There was a lingering hope of the former, not wanting him to be too battered by the time she'd found him and offered her alliance, but she could not be so naive as to think he could keep himself safe for long on his own. By the blurry photos some had managed, she could also safely assume his masquerade was not a very good one. Eye witnesses described him as wearing face paint and safety goggles, and those alone on his head.

Coran and her both decided it was fair to say they were close to something around the same time Katie Holt barged into her office. She was a small, thin girl, and Coran seemed nothing but mutely surprised, but Allura knew immediately to be suspicious.

"I know you're looking for the Blue Paladin." Was the first thing she said, no introduction necessary to get to her point. "I also know you have information on Kerberos and the disappearances."

They all tensed, then. From Allura's position at her office desk, she could see Coran's hands flex behind his back.

The small girl's stare was just as hard as Allura's own, and she felt something akin to familiarity at the fierceness of it. There were bags under her eyes and her frown was steady, no sense of tearing up or crying in her features. Allura recognized her so well, despite not knowing her quite yet, and she couldn't even begin to deny that determination that mirrored her own so well.

"Yes." Allura spoke carefully, not offering much quite else so fast, "What can we do for you?"

The girl took a half step towards the desk, Coran's eyes narrowed.

"My name is Katie Holt." The words were like a breath of relief and surprise to both adults. "I'm going out into the field." And there the breath was gone.

Allura found herself twitching. "Excuse me?" Was all she asked.

"My family, Takashi Shirogane included, is still alive. The police closed the case before it even began. I know you have information and I know you're the holder of the LIONs-"

Coran stepped in front of the desk as Allura stood, "You are not to be pursuing the LIONs, nor are they of any concern to you."

Katie looked affronted, bristling and clenching her fists. "I don't want them!" She replied hotly, "I want my father ! And they were his invention, too!"

Hard stares turned into glares. "You will not be receiving them, no matter your father's contribution."

"I don't want them. I want the information." For such a small girl, her words were all venom. "I have my father's notes, and what I've hacked in the police database, but I need to know what you can tell me before I go out into the field."

Coran glanced over his shoulder at Allura a moment before speaking. "Now what training do you have to be setting off at night?" His voice was careful, a little softer and calming to the other two.

"I took self defense and beginning firearms training," Noting Coran's lack of impress, she continued, "I'm going to aid the Blue Paladin, not go out alone."

"Has the Blue Paladin asked this of you? What makes you sure you'll be of any use to him?" Allura interjected.

A snort came from Pidge. "He won't refuse help. Right now, he's just doing street control, but if I'm there we can have an objective. Actually do some damage. With a plan ."

"How do you know he's not already doing internal attacks beyond his street endeavors?" Coran asked carefully, sharing another look with Allura.

Katie was silent, staring at them both for a hard minute or so. "Lance McClain is the Blue Paladin. He doesn't know I know, or that I know him, but we used to scrimmage on the same squadron in Garrison training."

That was a lot of information at once. "Lance?" Allura nearly cried out, though not of disbelief, before continuing, "Garrison training? How old are you?" This small girl didn't look anywhere near old enough to be in the police training the Garrison put up.

Her defenses were back up immediately, and Coran had left the room abruptly, his footsteps being heard down the long hallway that led into the grocery store from her office. "I attended as a cadet for two months after they went missing." Her reply was hot, and it was obvious she was trying to keep her calm. "He was our assistant trainer before he left before graduation. I'm seventeen." Something irked Katie deeply about being the one dishing all the information, but she knew she had to give to be offered anything.

The silence as Allura walked around her desk was near deafening. While Katie's defenses were all raised, there was the softest smidge of nerves in her stiff shoulders.

"Lance probably wouldn't like that you've given his identity." Allura said delicately.

"Fair point." The small shoulders loosened a fraction, "But he won't know we know, because nobody's going to tell him." Instead of objectivity, Katie seemed to be challenging Allura to object.

The older woman had no such response, however. She knew personally what Lance's life was filled with from a friendship of sorts that lasted so long and stories to top it off. He had so much family he loved, and so many people he was close to. Both Katie and Allura could deeply understand the want to protect that.

"Of course." Allura finally replied, turning to a busy looking wall and fishing her fingers into a hidden slit of a door handle. "This way, then."

The next day, Lance asked Allura if she'd heard anything of the 'dashing rogue' of the Blue Paladin, and she almost couldn't keep herself from giggling at his crestfallen look when she replied, "Bit of a fool, if you ask me."

Two days later, the newspaper posted a grainy image and evidenceless article of the new "Green Paladin." Allura could make out the gadgets on the waist of the baggy clothes, along with the hard-to-discern tuft of hair poking from the edges of the cap she was wearing. The newspaper said 'he'. Katie knew what they were doing.

"Keith." Lance seethed, making a sharp gesture towards the floor of the giant freezer, "What. Is this."

The young man being questioned let out a suffering breath and checked his phone. His phone ended over five minutes ago, but the lanky freezer boy often insisted on this interrogation. "It's a bucket of lemon filling." When the sharp gesturing hands changed directions, he adjusted his statement, "That's a bucket of cherry filling."

A muffled groan met his ears, and Lance gestured to a sign on the wall, one that Keith pointedly ignored very often. In all honesty, with Lance picking this fight for the first time in a few weeks, Keith was surprised. He signed, his breath coming out in puffs, and asked, "What does that sign say, Keith?"

"Dairy." He replied coolly, glancing to the designated area for bakery items, next to the seafood. It was full, and Keith had silently wondered for weeks now if Coran was overstocking or if their bakery sales were drastically changed. Then again, Keith was busier than ever with orders and product quantity adjustments, so it couldn't be so bad.

"Are lemon and cherry filling dairy products?" Really, Lance didn't quite have the authority to reprimand Keith like he seemed to be edging, but he did fully have the right to be irritated at the disorganization in his own department.

"Not really." Ten minutes since his shift ended. "Dairy has the most room. It's nearly empty."

If Lance's eyes were going to pop out of his skull, Keith was sure they was close. "That's because we get our shipment tonight."

A beat of silence passed, and Keith watched with furrowed brows as Lance signed, more tired than irritated this time. "So move them." Keith grunted, shoving his hands in his pockets. The freezer was not a place for extended exposure, and Keith secretly wondered how Lance could spend every day in here for hours at a time. He could barely stand ten minutes. "Just put them where there's room and no shipments for the next few days."

"Few days ?" Lance finally sputtered, glancing around the giant frozen room.

"Pies aren't on sale until next week. I have no idea why Coran bought them early." A small shiver ran as his skin pricked in goosebumps. Fuck, it was too cold for this.

He was surprised when Lance gave no further objections, just turning with a frown to lift the five gallon buckets. Keith watched carefully as his shoulder seemed to jerk slightly as he lifted (correctly, at least), and his face rolled over his shoulder to hide his grimace until he calmed again.

The buckets ended up next to boxes of frozen fruit. Lance seemed surprised himself when Keith was still there when he turned to return to organizing. Keith, even, was a little surprised at himself, and pursed his lips into a scowl. "RICE your shoulder or something. You can't work and lift back here injured." Before Lance could reply with something that would definitely be an objection or jab, Keith turned and left.

Twenty minutes after he was supposed to have left from his shift, he was halfway to the exit when Katie stopped him.

She had been grating on Keith's nerves for a week or two now, having just started working at Altea as a cashier, and Keith knew she was being investigative, but couldn't figure out precisely what she was up to. Part of him thought she knew about his casual Galra raids, or the warehouse he'd set on fire last week, or anything involving his own careful investigation, but, knowing Katie, she would've said something to him the second she'd confirmed it.

In all honesty, he would have loved to have Katie at his side for the electronics and information he'd been collecting lately--he didn't understand much of it himself, but he'd have to be stupid to not think there was use for the stuff, so it was slowly being collected and left in boxes around his place--but what he was doing was blatantly reckless, even to himself. He knew that if he did find Shiro, the man would be disappointed, grateful, and proud of him all at the same time. To face the Galra alone was just dumb and dangerous. Knowing that, and knowing the fire that coursed through Katie at the mere mention of the Kerberos Disappearances, Keith refused to recruit her for the sake of her safety and avoiding blatant reprimanding from Shiro when he was found.

But it was obvious, at least to Keith, that Katie was up to something of her own, and that had him constantly wary.

"Mom wants to know if you wanna come around for dinner tonight." Was all Katie said, however.

Since Kerberos, Colleen Holt had invited Keith over for dinner every week without fail. Keith had only accepted three times, but the Holts were not phased. Colleen, through her son's being best friends with Shiro, knew Keith far too well for his liking, and though she never said anything specifically, she knew Keith was not the best at caring for himself since Shiro's disappearance had consumed him.

"What time?" Keith said, exasperation tinging his words as he brushed flour off of his pants.

"Seven, after I get off work. Don't fall asleep."

It was a toss up for how likely it was for Keith to sleep. He worked early and worked harder late. Ignoring the comment, he asked, "Do you want me to take you home? Who's picking you up?"

"I'm walking." When Keith said he'd be there to pick her up, she seemed completely unsurprised, but stopped him one more time before he left. "Did you hear about that giant warehouse fire a few nights ago?" God damn it.

"I don't watch the news, Katie."

"It was in the newspaper." Keith shrugged as she continued, "Seems dumb to me to just burn the whole place down, Galra or not."

Before Keith could pretend he wasn't getting defensive, she was gone. Much more irritated than before, he started towards the exit again, and huffed aloud when Hunk backed into his way.

"Dude."

"Oh. Sorry, Keith." He was pulling a cart of noodles in different sizes and types. There were a lot of bow ties. When Hunk saw his gaze, he shrugged. "Soup kitchen night, gotta get this stuff together so it's ready for Allura to take over before the crowd."

Keith watched with a small fascination as, from across the racks of produce, Shay (Shy? Sharon? Keith didn't really remember her name) called to Hunk, holding up two bags of potatoes, and Hunk seemed to completely lose all calmness. His dark skin turned a furious red as she beamed at him, and he swallowed before calling "Brown!" back.

ShayShySharon nodded, put the potatoes in her left hand into her cart, and grabbed two more bags to join it.

"Dude." Keith said again when he seemed lost a second.

"Right! See ya, Keith!" Hunk hurried aside and finally let the baker free.

With a wave as he exited the aisle and consecutively the store, Keith called, "Later, big guy," and finally made it to the parking lot. Hoping the night would continue without incident, Keith got onto his motorcycle and left Altean Markets in a blur.

That night, after not falling asleep and having a Holt sponsored dinner of pork chops and steamed vegetables, Keith rode the streets in pursuit of a grunt who had tried to tag his bike. it was petty revenge against a petty crime attempt, but he was particularly riled up at his lack of answers, and would take any sort of action in the Galra he could.

His U-turn sent him almost parallel to the ground when he heard an airhorn sound a block and half behind him. Obnoxious, if not suspicious, and probably used as a squad signal, it he didn't think it was so dumb and indiscreet.

When he came to the scene of a lanky boy clad in all blue in the middle of a street brawl, he wasn't sure what else he was wondering for. There were three Galra 'soldiers' around him like sharks, but he seemed capable, if nothing else, under that pressure.

"Pidge, don't follow, they're big." He said into the receiver of the walkie talkie in his hand.

"How many?" A staticy reply came, and the blue boy jumped over one of the grunts as the sequence of brawling broke out again from it's momentary pause.

The boy's eyes met Keith's through both his obnoxious hardware glasses and Keith's own motorcycle helmet visor, but he was distracted again immediately as someone flicked out a knife.

"I'd get out of here, buddy!" He called over his shoulder as he shot his stun gun towards the smallest of the three.

The notion that this thin boy was going to independently take the three of them down almost made Keith laugh, but he prioritized and joined the fray once he'd hopped off of his bike.

Despite having the peaceful life of a grocery store baker, Keith was no stranger to fights. When he flicked out his own pocket knife, the blue boy's frantic, "Friend or foe, just give me a heads up!" surprised him, not just for it's attentative suddenness, but because it was such a stupid thing to ask. Fights were all about instinct.

Keith combatted the biggest grunt without giving a proper answer, deciding instead to leave some sort of ambiguity to what exactly was going on before he knew too much about the other. When he slapped the knife from a grunt's hand, he noted how the blue boy had lunged forward to grab it and tuck it away in a scramble.

"Do not kill him!" he ordered when Keith's own blade sliced over someone's forearm. Exasperated, yet strangely compelled to follow along, Keith threw a hard and well aimed punch to the grunt at his side and pocketed his own knife again.

The fight, overall, barely lasted more than ten minutes, but there was no hesitation in either boys to speed to Keith's motorcycle when they were finished.

Keith felt the other boy hop on behind him and barely gave him a moment before tearing down the street.

Lance, unbeknownst to him, wrapped his slim arms in a vice grip around Keith, of all people, while letting out a started screech at the suddenness of their speed.

"There was three. I'm good, don't go near that street tonight, Pidge." he said into the speaker as the crazy motorcycle boy in front of him ran a very red light and the following stop sign a block later.

"Blue, are you okay? I can barely hear you. What's going on?" The Green Paladin crackled through the speakers.

A startled laugh left him as they took a sharp turn and he held on tighter again. Keith could feel, over the collar of his jacket, the boy's warm breath fanning across his neck and sweeping towards his shoulder. His body, a hard line against Keith's own behind him, jumped every time his motorcycle gave a kick.

After fifteen minutes of continuous riding, almost to Balmera, the next city over, Keith slowed and came to a stop on the side of the road.

Lance seemed purely out of breath, whooping a few times between deep inhales and shaking a little as he got up. It was a new, safer kind of adrenaline to him, and his heart was hammering. When he saw the smirk the motorcycle man was giving him, his heart hammered faster.

"H-hey. Thanks, man." He managed, his eyes blown clearly wide past his safety glasses.

The helmet nodded. "Where am I taking you? You have a partner?"

Lance blinked and pulled out his walkie talkie again. "Pidge. That's what I call the Green Paladin, sorry. They're probably rooftopping. Can you get me to the square?"

"Sure. Green Paladin?" Keith leaned back into his bike handles.

"You know, the other one that helps the Blue Paladin?" Lance, much slower, joined him again.

"Blue Paladin?" Keith followed up absentmindedly, wondering if they based themselves somewhere near the square or if the blue boy was just taking a precautionary measure.

"The-Me? You know, the Blue Paladin ?" He emphasized, "Enemy to the Galra? Dashing rogue of the night? I'm in the newspaper, like, every other morning!" Lance, though much more hesitant and wary of the motorcycle man now that he seemed to not know him, put his arms to the other's waist and huffed.

"Well, congratulations." Was all he said as they zoomed off.

Lance wasn’t surprised at all when Hunk joined them for patrolling one night. It's more how and when that got him hung up. He always figured his friend would join, despite his fears, sooner rather than later, but with the strange and fleeting presence of the "Red Paladin" in the newspaper (they have no images and only seem to be speculating off of witness testaments as to his deeds--Lance isn't even sure it's the same guy as motorcycle man, or if he would know he was Red if it was), Lance had assumed they'd see him more than the chances of catching Hunk out with them.

Like most of the best entrances to the Blue and Green Paladin's lives, he appears in the midst of a fight, slamming someone into a wall without any of the gentility he was known to specialize in. It was so surprising and unexpected, to see a looming and violent presence like the one Hunk was giving off then, that Lance nearly stunned him on pure reflex. He was clad in all yellows (hideous, surprising shades of yellow), wearing a shirt too tight and face paint in smudged, random patterns. His own pair of safety goggles encased his eyes, a bright orange headband kept his bangs from his face, and work gloves without fingers and thick cuffs encased his hands (to cover friendship bracelets, Lance sympathized fondly). Lance's personal favorite part of the ensemble (besides the work boots made so well for stomping and hulking) had to be the disgusting, mustard yellow coat he wore over himself. Not only was the shade atrocious, but the sleeves were too short, while the rest of it was too big. It was as good of a disguise as any, and Lance recognized his very successful attempt at making himself look huge .

This Hunk wasn't the same Hunk who made cranberry oatmeal cookies for movie night. No, this one was angry Hunk. Shove your face into the ground Hunk. A dangerous kind of Hunk.

Another slam to the wall broke Lance out of his proud thoughts, and they worked with a fluid grace and trust in one another that any galra grunt could only dream of replicating.

When Pidge came to the alley sensing the end of the fight, their Kubotan was raised warily. Lance figured, even with the shutter shades masking their gaze, it was safe to guess who they were staring at.

"This is my friend." And that's all it took to ease the teenager, their shoulders loosening immediately as they went straight to digging through pockets. The Blue Paladin couldn't help the roll of pride that traveled through him knowing he was so trusted by his teammate.

"Are we doing that now? Bringing friends?" Pidge's tone was a little sarcastic, but harbored no more suspicion towards the two nor any unkindness particularly.

Hunk snorted. "I came here on my own, thank you. What are we looking for?" he went to his knees to the grunt Pidge hadn't checked yet.

With a glance over their shoulder for good measure, they listed, "Cell phones, keys, electronics of any kind, really, flash drives , wallets."

"I try to get their guns and any weapons if I can." The Blue Paladin interjected.

"They'll just get more, Blue." The younger sighed. To Hunk, it seemed like a tired conversation.

"Not the point, Pidgeon."

The very next day, everyone knew about the hulking and vicious Yellow Paladin through the Arusian Times .

The three Paladins fell into a comfortable routine. Nightly, Hunk and Lance would patrol, dividing streets evenly when they weren’t next to one another. Pidge joined them at least once every few nights (more often on weekends, Lance found himself noting with amusement), and always showed up after a rough fight, but they either had their own investigative agenda, which was likely, or they were generally prone to avoiding the team when it wasn’t necessary to be around one another.

Despite this, Hunk and Pidge got along even better than Lance did with them. They found out extremely early on that they’re both massive nerds, sparked by Hunk’s initial adjustment suggestions to the security of their private radio frequency. Pidge’s lips had a small curve whenever they talked tech, and Hunk lost all Yellow-esque intimidation tactics in favor of looking like an absolute teddy bear while they talked about projects. He had two more years of school for his engineering courses, and while they’re wary of him divulging certain information about their personal lives, it was refreshing and happy to hear the young man gush.

Pidge was, past being a massive nerd, actually an absolute genius. They were also super humble about that fact, as well, offering only an “I know” a little blandly while their furious fingers clacked away at their laptop through the praise. They’ve taken to hacking into video feeds of local security cameras (Hunk built the scanner, Pidge did the hacking) lately, whenever their nights allowed it. When their nights didn’t, Hunk and Lance had no objections leaving Pidge to hack by themselves, so long as they promised to use the security alarm adjusted onto each of their radios. Lance had initially protested the notion, glaring at the pink ‘Find Me Mommy!’ alarm like he had history with it, but couldn’t refuse the logic and both of his teammates berating his reluctance. He was the leader, after all, and a good leader listened to the insults his teammates hurled at him when he made dumb decisions.

To be fair, however, it was more like dumb decisions always found him . Not the other way around. Times like those made him wish for…something. A specific goal, or for him to listen to any of Pidge’s critical snorts when he claimed his leadership skills were without match, or for Hunk or even the Motorcycle Man/Maybe Red Paladin to appear.

He was good at recognizing time crunches and had plenty of situational awareness to know his environment and things that were going on almost instantly, so it’s not like he didn’t know things were stupid things to do before he even did. It was his natural need to solve problems as quickly as possible and help people the second they needed it that brought out the dumbest plans.

People who weren’t already inside of their houses after dark were either already inevitably going to be in a situation or were gang members. Lance had, honestly, no idea why they even bothered with the subtlety of night anymore. Their numbers in the daytime were less obvious, but everyone knew they were there. Still, they prowled at night time, picking off wanderers and innocents, and the Blue Paladin wouldn’t stand for it.

He’d been getting better at remembering Hunk was around, and reveled in the fact that he could page his teammate reliably and get an immediate ETA from his best friend, but some things couldn’t wait.

The man screaming Lance had been frantically following the sound of was silenced as soon as he’d rounded the corner and caught the glint of silver under the flickering street light. He sounded off his air horn reflexively, both to signal Hunk and to draw attention, and immediately shot to the side as the gang member threw the now bloody knife towards him in an instant.

It skid down the street behind Lance, well aimed if he hadn’t had good reflexes, and the previously screaming young man fell to the ground in a heap as the grunt turned to Lance fully, reaching into his pockets. The man was the first priority, bloody and needing assistance, so he didn’t hesitate despite the brandished gun to send two consecutive jolts of his stun gun into the grunt.

He charged, halting sporadically at the voltage and obviously trembling, but the gun was still aimed at Lance when the second wave ended and the grunt was on his knees.

Lance was not particularly interested in staring death in the face or questioning his own mortality. He used noise and electricity instead of bullets, he stole knives and guns to throw away or drop off at the station whenever he could, and he implored Pidge and Hunk to do the same. A life was a heavy thing to be responsible for, and none of them could probably bear the burden.

Staring down the eye of a gun, Lance remembered the weight and feel of it in his own hand. His days at the Garrison left him trained as a legendary marksman—something he’d been proud of until the targets became people and dread had changed Lance’s perspective of being a police officer one-hundred-eighty degrees from an honorable responsibility to a corrupted and unforgivable weight—but, even knowing his skill, he still hadn’t picked up a gun since he’d dropped out.

The Galra in front of him didn’t seem to have any dread to keep his actions at bay, however, and through gritted teeth he told Lance to fuck off as a shot rang through their ears.

It was…sloppy, actually. It tore across the side of Lance’s thigh, cutting through jeans and some skin, but had done so little damage in comparison to what he’d been expecting that he’d almost laughed. The grunt fell in his own heap, fist still clenched tightly around his gun, and Hunk was at Lance’s side before he realized he was frozen.

“Lance-Oh-.” He didn’t even try for pseudonyms at as his gaze was frantic, strong hands grasping at the thinner boy’s shoulders. “He shot you, dude! You just got shot!” He looked sick, “Pidge I need you here now ! North main! Do we have first aid kids? Why don’t we-Oh god it’s bleeding-You were shot !”

“Yellow.” Lance coughed and cleared his throat, shaking out of his daze finally and pushing to step a few paces towards the man. “I’ll be fine, that guy needs to get to a hospital, though.” He ordered, stumbling with Hunk at his side to the side of the road.

Not long after, Pidge was jogging towards them, and Lance noted the motion specifically because, even in the face of danger, they never seemed particularly rushed at Lance’s orders or instructions. That was, of course, unless it involved unconscious Galra ‘soldiers’.

When they took Hunk’s place next to Lance and the victim, Hunk sprinted to a nearby trashcan and promptly threw up.

“We need an ambulance—why don’t we have a car already?” Lance groaned, fishing through one of his canvas pockets for his phone while Pidge checked vitals and pressed the man’s shirt (now removed gently and balled up) to the gash on the side of his neck. He was alive, but losing a lot of blood.

“You need an ambulance, too, dude.” Hunk said shakily, trying to get Lance to keep his leg still.

As he punched in the emergency number, Lance sighed through his nose, it dissolving into a hiss as Hunk tied his long bandanna around the bloody gash. “Fu-I can’t go to a hospital , Yellow! Hello? I’m at North Main across from Ryder’s weaponry. This is the Blue Paladin.”

“Fuck.” Pidge breathed towards Hunk at the realization, rubbing her wrist against her nose as she glanced towards Lance’s wound and kept her other hand steady on the victim’s own gash. Their limited first aid knowledge couldn’t stitch him, nor any other wounds they would inevitably sustain at this point, and their Blue Paladin wasn’t walking that off exactly, despite looking like he wanted to.

Hunk’s eyes were wide, staring at Lance’s leg wound for a long moment while he chatted on the phone with the operator. After a moment, he flicked his gaze up to meet his best friend’s own. “I-Shay?” he asked, uncertain.

Lance, mid-sentence with the operator on the phone, cut himself off to screech a happy “Yes!” towards Hunk, which Pidge had to catch themselves to keep from mirroring with their own enthusiasm. “Sorry, no, everything’s okay. I’ve taken a minor injury, so I won’t be here when the ambulance arrives, but P-The Green Paladin will be here until then. No questions. Yes, there’s a Galra ‘soldier’, unconscious but still armed.”

They didn’t like to be around when the police or any officials arrived—they’d been getting good at dropping gang members off at the police station or hacking the scanner frequency to drop off locations through the line, but being in direct association with the police was generally asking to be arrested. They had no choice, now, though. They would never blatantly leave a victim in need, and they had no way of taking him to a hospital themselves.

Hunk’s shaky fingers worked at his small phone, grimacing at the tired voice that answered the line on the second ring. “Hello?”

“S-Shay. Hey. I-We need a favor.” It was two-thirty in the morning, and Hunk was stammering in her presence for a completely different reason than their norm. She had work, as did Hunk himself, in less than five hours.

Shay was a good person, though, and a very kind friend of both Hunk’s and Lance’s. Her sleepy voice was immediately laced with concern at Hunk’s tone. “How can I assist you? Is everything alright?”

An hour later, Lance was being stitched up by Shay in a back room of Altea Markets they hadn’t even known existed. Pidge had insisted they meet there and, to everyone’s surprise, Allura was there with the doors open to receive them. As soon as they were inside, Coran greeted them and led the way, and Allura disappeared into her office.

Shay, unpredictably, was very calm at the whole of the situation. The young woman was almost through going to medical school (it was a slow process to attend while living in Balmera and working full time in Arus), so they knew she would be fine handling the actual wound, but her being so understanding and not questioning anything had caught both Paladins present off guard. Save for the already awkward fact that Lance was laying on an old meat packaging table (they’d sanitized it and laid down wax paper for extra measures at Shay’s insistence) pants-less with a bullet gash on his left thigh, both him and Hunk (who was methodically busying himself with handing Shay anything she asked for immediately and leaving the room and gag and wash his hands every ten minutes) were in their paladin ‘uniforms’, but Shay, besides the initial gaze over them, wasn’t fazed.

She was stitching the first few beginning knots into his skin when Hunk broke the thought on both of their minds. “We’re—The Paladins.” He explained haltingly to the lack of question.

Shay hummed and nodded, her lips turning into a kind smile while Hunk fidgeted. “I believed it was safe to assume. Is this the first time you’ve gotten hurt?”

“You bet it is! Woo! I’m, like, two months into this already! And only one bullet!” Lance perked up with an open laugh, obviously proud of himself. Hunk had to lay his hand on the smaller boy’s waist as a reminder to keep still.

While Lance’s enthusiasm was amusing, their doctor was not so impressed. “How did you plan on taking care of this if Hunk hadn’t called me? Surely you weren’t going to the hospital?” She was halfway through the wound now, working with careful and strong hands, and the only real sign of her fear for them was in her pensive frown.

“I…didn’t really have that one figured out.” He admitted, a little less enthused.

“It’s a good thing Hunk thought quickly, then.” All three of them turned to Coran as he spoke from the doorway, and Lance flinched as he began spinning his moustache thoughtfully.

It was no secret that Coran was close to Lance and Hunk (though the latter of which he couldn’t help but harbor a small grudge towards due to his usurped kitchen position). Coran was known throughout the close-knit store as the one they could trust the most with long talks and hard questions, and could reliably receive long-winded, musing answers from in return.

“Coran-“ Lance started, groaning a little as he couldn’t move much but his head and shoulders without the risk of interrupting Shay’s work.

“No need to say anything, my boy. I had you figured out weeks ago! I’m glad you’ve made it so far.” The old man’s eyes were sparkling with so much pride Lance couldn’t help but reflect it.

Hunk smiled warmly at their dramatic wet eyes, knowing all was well between them.

“Do not praise him for endangering himself blindly and getting himself into this mess.” And then it was not well. Allura wandered into the room with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. A few steps behind her was Pidge, tapping hurriedly at their phone.

“Ew. Blue, put pants on.” Was all they said as they glanced up, grimacing a little.

“I-Can we all not be in here? This is unsanitary. Right, Shay?” Lance whined, feeling decent enough for Pidge’s eyes alone to throw a hand over his crotch in his briefs. “Everyone but Allura and the doctor should leave.” There was a moment where he wiggled his eyebrows and allowed his eyes to meet his boss’s, but it was ceased immediately at her unwavering disapproval.

“They are fine at their distance.” Shay gave no aid or acknowledgement to his flirtatious attempts. Lance groaned, but Allura continued.

“This is an event that should not repeat itself. You all need more training, and you need to work together as a team .”

“We are a team!” Hunk hurried to say, though he didn’t deny their training. Pidge was…Pidge, and he was an engineering student. Lance, it seemed, was the only one with actual training to be doing what they were up to.

“Then you should certainly start acting like one, shouldn’t you?” The room went quiet, and Lance could feel Shay on her last few stitches. “You’re not doing bad work, but until you have better combative skills, you should stay with investigating, like the Green Paladin has been.”

The remaining paladins eyes met, and a silent conversation happened through eyebrow raises alone.

“What are you looking for, Pidge?” Hunk was the one who finally voiced it.

They didn’t hesitate before pocketing their phone and pulling a notebook from their giant backpack. “Well, I’m glad you’ve asked, Yellow.” It took them a few blind page flips to find the right page, but they eventually flipped the book around to show an intricately detailed diagram of scribbles. It was color coded, but confusing and hard to read. “This is a mixture of all the radio chatter I’ve picked up, all referring to a thing called ‘Voltron’, which has to do with research I inherited.”

“Inherited after Kerberos?” Lance found himself voicing, and Pidge folded a little.

“Yes.” Was all they replied, colder than they had been.

Another silent conversation ensued between Hunk and Lance, but it was Lance’s turn to speak their minds.

“Okay, so what are we looking for?” He grunted as Shay tied off the last stitch and began dressing the wound.

Pidge, realizing they hadn’t answered the initial question, looked to Allura, who still stood regally and stiff by the door.

“It’s a device we call a LION. I’ll tell you more if you’re any closer to finding it, but it’s the beginning of officially bringing down the Galra ‘empire’.” She explained diplomatically, adjusting her weight and opening her folded arms to ensure sincerity came across to the others in the room.

“Bringing down the whole ‘empire’?” Hunk asked quietly, uncertain. Shay, from across the meat table, rested her hand on top of his in the middle of her wound dressing to reassure him.

Lance sighed silently, his fingers ghosting towards what would inevitably be his new scar and eyes finding those of all his friends. “This is sketchy.” He announced, “Allura, beautiful, I trust you.”

“If you weren’t on that table…” She muttered in reply before making a formal statement. “It’s settled, then. We have three Paladins, a medic—thank you, Shay, we’ll talk details after you’re finished—and Coran will train you all.”

Hunk and Pidge choked at the notion, but the old man looked proud of himself from the edge of the room.

“You will also need to enlist the Red Paladin—“

“Motorcycle Man!” Allura ignored Lance’s outburst fluidly.

“Eventually. He’s doing good work solo, but his pattern is erratic and he’s too destructive. There’s no subtlety at all. Regardless, we need him on your side. Is that clear, everyone?”

The fact that they had all gained a commander seemed to settle into the paladins, then, and they all shared a look with one another before nodding.

Allura nodded back, and exited the room then with Shay to follow her. Coran took the opportunity to jump into explanations about their training, and they all knew that the next two weeks or so, while Lance’s stitches closed, they’d be working their bones off trying to come up to par with the sorts of dangers they faced.

Keith, from the seat of his motorcycle, circled the police block-off three times before deciding to get a closer look quietly. From his position on the street, motorcycle helmet still on, he could see a bloody knife still on the ground, a puddle of blood by the building two down from the start of the blockade, and the trail of blood leading from the center of the road to the side of the puddle. He knew not to stick around when someone started whispering behind him, and thought deeply on what he knew about the supposed “Blue Paladin” and his teammates as he rode home. He had heard the name, of course, but if it was these types of activities he was getting himself into so regularly, Keith thought he might have to learn it a little better.

3 notes · View notes

shervonfakhimi · 6 years

Text

The Marvel Cinematic Universe Movie Rankings

I was late to the party on the Marvel Cinematic Universe films. I wasn’t really all into it until I saw 'Spider-Man: Homecoming’ in theaters. That got me interested enough to want to watch these movies whenever I found the time to do so. In anticipation of “Black Panther,” I thought it would be cool to go down the list and have fun by ranking these movies. After having seen them all now with Endgame being released April 26, 2019, I’ve gone and updated this list as I have done with every MCU release and will continue to do so. Enjoy the list!

23. The Incredible Hulk

So, there isn’t a whole lot from this movie that really transfers over to the next series of films. I mean, the actors aren’t even the same (Edward Norton portrayed the Hulk in this movie, not Mark Ruffalo). The only entity with less stability than this movie are the Phoenix Suns. Add that to the fact that the Hulk in and of itself is the only Avenger whose entire essence could be considered the lone liability of the Avengers with him tearing cities apart once he gets pissed off, that leads this movie to start our countdown.

22. Thor: The Dark World

The second of the Thor series, this picks up right where the first Thor film left off. Jane stumbles into a portal and becomes spelled to the lure the Aether, a weapon sought to be used by Malekith, the antagonist. This requires Thor come back to Earth and smash freaky elves (can we get less weird villains in these movies, by the way) the same way Aaron Judge does baseballs. Entertaining? Sure. The movie was fine, but the pace of the movie felt a little slower, rendering it 15th on the list.

21. Iron Man 3

Not as great as the others in the series, but Iron Man 3 was still very solid. After ghosting some guy on New Year’s Eve to get some action to rein in the new year (as any sane person would), that man comes back to get revenge on Tony years later. Despite saving multiple people from falling to their deaths from thousands of miles in the air and saving the President and Pepper Potts from a kidnapping, this movie, while still good, had more potential than was displayed.

20. Ant-Man

I was quite skeptical of this movie at first. After all, what the hell is an ‘Ant-Man’ supposed to be? Turns out, Scott Lang is a former felon who gets a second chance by doing the same thing he got locked up for: robbing someone in order to be able to provide for his daughter, shrinking down to the size of an ant and creating an ant army to help him do so. This was a better movie (heck, and hero) than I expected, but not quite good enough to crack the Top 10. However, that says more about the movies in the Top 10 than this one, per se. Shoutout to T.I. though.

19. Iron Man

The first of the Iron Man series leads us overseas to the desert, where Tony Stark is ambushed and forced to build a weapon of mass destruction for a terrorist organization. Instead, he builds a machine that to fight his way out and destroy the organization’s hideout. After seeing his ‘Stark Industries’ weapons used to kill innocent lives, he makes upgrades to that machine after breaking out to take out any other weapons his company produced. What was that machine called? I’m sure you all can figure that out.

18. Thor

After going against the will of father to start a war that was rather unnecessary at the time, Thor is deemed unworthy of his powers and is banished to Earth in the process. There, he encounters Jane Foster (Natalie Portman played the role exceptionally) amongst a group of scientists, who try to figure out who the hell he is and where he came from. Meanwhile, Loki, Thor’s adopted psycho-crazy brother, is working to overthrow Odin’s throne and seize power of Asgard. Thor redeems himself, attempting to sacrifice himself and ruins Loki’s coup attempt, regaining his power and status as the heir to Odin’s throne.

17. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ is cool in that it hits the happy medium of being the super-serious superhero movie and the ‘Deadpool’-esque satire. The squad at the end saves the day, but they’re going to have fun and roast each other in the process. That rings true in this movie, as well as the first. The back-and-forth throughout the movie between Mantis and Drax was downright hilarious. However, the objective was far more treacherous for the Guardians this time around, thwarting Ego’s plan to devour the world and gain total control with the help of Quill, Ego’s son, which he refuses and instead prevents him from doing so. A nice movie, but not could’ve been better.

16. Doctor Strange

Our first look at the hero Doctor Strange. Steven Strange was a damn good surgeon, but could not continue after a car crash permanently damaged his fingers (don’t text and drive, kids). He looks for any way possible to fix his hands, which leads him to Nepal. There he learns under the Ancient One to free and use his mind to fix his hands. While there, he becomes humbled and steps in the absence of the Ancient One, who passes, to take down Kaecilius and Dormammu, preserving the 3 Sanctums that detect imminent threats from other dimensions. Not the traditional hero in the sense that his powers are more mental than physical, but still just as effective, leading Doctor Strange to 13 on this list.

15. Iron Man 2

This was my favorite Iron Man movie. How about that!?! In my opinion, it featured the most compelling villain of the Iron Man franchise, the private, pirate-masquerading Russian physicist named Ivan Vanko, also a descendent of a friend of Howard Stark’s. Tony, on the other hand, is on the complete other end of the spectrum, basking in the glow of his Iron Man acclaim while his health has begun to deteriorate, needing new technology to power his body. With introductions to Black Widow and Don Cheadle as War Machine (sorry Terrance Howard), who help take down Vanko and Justin Hammer’s plan to eliminate Tony Stark’s ‘Stark Enterprises,’ this movie falls just short of the Top 10.

14. Ant-Man and the Wasp

Ant-Man and the Wasp felt like a heat check from a basketball player that lets a shot go early in the clock because they were feeling hot previously. Not that those shots are bad, but that those shots aren’t as great as the ones they were taking and making earlier. I felt part of Ant-Man and the Wasp was a little unnecessary, but the movie overall fits the fun theme of the MCU in the last few films. Marvel was bound to come down from the high of Homecoming/Ragnarok/Black Panther/Infinity War at some point. This movie is still very good. There’s just no shame it falls just a little short to par with some of its predecessors. (The end credit scene though.)

13. Captain Marvel

Higher. Further. Faster. The origin story of Carol Danvers (and Nick Fury!) was very good. It could’ve been better, but I am not one of those who finds no good reason to slander this or Brie Larson, who I thought did very well in this movie. It certainly is not the worst movie in the Infiniti Saga or close to it. I eagerly await what is next in the life of Carol Danvers in the MCU.

12. Captain America: The First Avenger

So, we might have gotten a clue as to how LeBron James and The Rock were created with this film. During World War II, a little scrapper named Steve Rogers enlisted in the US Army in a quest to help the US take down Hydra. He was a great teammate to his fellow soldiers, including his best friend Bucky Barnes but he physically couldn’t hold up despite his want to fight. So, he gets put into a lab where he physically matures to the specimen that is Captain America (this is where the LeBron James allusion comes in). There, he takes down anything in his path, rampaging Hydra facilities and kicking the shit out of anyone who dared think they could stand a chance against him. Though some of his friends (hold on to that one) and fellow soldiers die, Steve saves the day and defeats Hydra. However, he crashes a Hydra airplane carrying weapons originally designed to attack US into the Arctic. He later is saved and preserved in New York City, where he awakens from a 70-year slumber to Nick Fury offering him the opportunity to fight in the Avengers. A great movie no question, but someone had to get axed out of the Top 10, and this barely misses the cut.

11. Avengers: Age of Ultron

The second time the Avengers get together. During a party, Tony’s artificial intelligence JARVIS gets devoured by a secret AI known as Ultron stored inside Loki’s scepter the Avengers previously intercepted from Strucker, attacking the Avengers in the process. He then runs off, along with the scepter and the 2 twins from Strucker’s lair. The Avengers got roughed up a bit in an earlier attempt to take Ultron and the twins down but avenged (see what I did) themselves in Ultron’s attempt at destroying humans by lifting a damn city in the air just to have it come crashing down onto the Earth’s surface. We also get introduced to the twins and Vision. It’s hard to get much better than kicking the shit out of a bunch of flying robots and saving an entire city off the ground, so that solidifies this one inside the Top 10.

10. Marvel’s The Avengers

For the first time, we get to see Nick Fury’s robust team of superheroes come together to take down a bunch of aliens under the control of Loki. Loki gains control of the Tessurrect and plans on using it to seize power of Earth, using the Stark Tower as a portal to bring in his army from outer space. Like an NBA super-team acquiring multiple All-Stars (the 2010 Miami Heat, 2016 Golden State Warriors, if you want to add the 2017 Oklahoma City Thunder to this list you can if you want), it took a while for the Avengers to gain chemistry and work together as a unit to put their egos for the greater good. But once they did, man did they kick some ass. After holding off their alien counterparts, a nuke is ordered to come down on New York City, which Tony Stark intercepts to take down Loki’s army in outer space. A great movie with multiple superheroes doing their thing, but with the time it took for them to get together, they have to get bumped down to the middle of the top 10.

9. Guardians of the Galaxy

The Guardians are a ragtag group of outcasts who come together to keep an orb containing an infinity (the power) stone out of the hands of Ronan the Accuser. So a bunch of misfits, amongst them include a human, a raccoon, and a tree, come together to take him down and keep the orb away from him, busting up some bad guys and cracking jokes amid the journey. It makes no sense until it makes all the sense in the world. A good, fun movie, this movie is good enough to stay just inside the top 10.

8. Spider-Man: Homecoming

One of the few MCU movies I went to see in theaters, Homecoming was a great watch. Peter juggling his quest to become an Avenger with his life as a high school student after his appearance in ‘Civil War’ fighting at the behest of Tony Stark set the stage for the movie. Meanwhile, Adrian Toomes, otherwise known as Vulture (greatly portrayed by Michael Keaton), is causing havoc building high-grade weapons that Peter can’t resist to fight and defeat to protect his city of Queens. The scene where Toomes is driving Peter and his high school crush Liz, who just happens to be Toomes’ daughter while no one has fully connected the dots other than Peter, who was shook out of his mind once figuring this out the night of their high school homecoming dance, sticks out and pretty much sums up Peter throughout the film. This was a really great movie and wait to see what’s next for Peter Parker.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxsLHxEqvGE

7. Black Panther

This was so incredibly awesome. Every role displayed was played to a tee, from T’Challa to Killmonger to everybody. I loved the story arc, from the early beginnings of the Black Panther hero and the traces of vibranium to how T’Challa loses his power and throne and regains it. Michael B. Jordan seemingly steals the show (and no, he isn’t better than Thanos. Thanos would flick him like a booger). The symbolism was powerful and excellent. Wakanda forever.

6. Captain America: Civil War

Chaos! After causing trouble in Wakanda, the Avengers are placed with a decision to essentially give up their freedom to take down any evil at their own transgression at the behest of the US government. So, that naturally leads to discourse, which leads to superheroes beating the shit out of each other. A Bucky lookalike is used to blow a bomb at the signing of the Sokovia Accords at the UN, which leads to further dissention, and is all part of a revenge scheme to break the Avengers up from within, which ultimately succeeds. Multiple intense fight scenes (like the one below), introductions to new heroes (especially Black Panther, who was incredible in this movie) and a great plot lead to this ranking.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42RZyBz4L1A

5. Spider-Man: Far From Home

He’s baaaaack. After saving New York and then the world, we link up again with Peter Parker, this time on a summer class trip through Europe until it gets hijacked and his assistance as Spider-Man (or Night Monkey, depending on your preference) is needed again. We got to see Peter on an evolution from a shy kid yearning to be an Avenger to now someone who just wants some time to relax and live his life as Peter. That was cool, alongside the growing relationship between him and MJ that manifested even farther in this movie. Jake Gyllenhaal was great as Mysterio too. This did enough to crack the Top 5.

4. Thor: Ragnarok

By far the best of the Thor series, Thor: Ragnarok was extremely enjoyable. After Odin dies and Hela destroys Thor’s hammer on her quest to seize the throne of Asgard, Thor & Loki find themselves on a strange planet of Sikaar. Thor is captured by a former Asgard Valkyrie warrior, forced to partake in a Fightclub-style gladiator battle, taking on a familiar big green giant (I’m sure you’ve heard of him). After escaping custody, Thor, Banner, Loki and Valkyrie all team up to take down Hela’s control of Asgard. This movie also managed to turn the Hulk back into a useful Avenger instead of the liability he forced himself to exile to limit his destructive ways. The story arc was very good with plenty of action to go around, matched with a lot of hysterical built-in humor (and less freaky bad guys). Almost every word of that sentence couldn’t be said about previous Thor movies, leading to the placement of this movie inside the Top 5.

3. Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Ok, where do we start? This movie was incredible all the way around. Captain America teaming up with Black Widow to not only take down Hydra from the ranks within Shield but, but expose their whereabouts to the public kicking major ass in the process. Nick Fury supposedly gets killed, yet eventually gets saved to help assist in taking down SHIELD. And then there’s Bucky, causing all kinds of mayhem trying to take down his childhood friend he has no recollection of until later on in the film. Not to mention this movie also introduced us to Falcon, portrayed by Anthony Mackie, the sidekick to the Captain. With plenty of badass fight scenes to go around, this one gets the nod at the top non-Infinity War film of the MCU series.

2. Avengers: Infinity War

Utterly blown away. Incredible. An entire universe of heroes trying to prevent Thanos from snapping half the universe into dust. They come sooooo close, yet not enough. Just awesome.

1. Avengers: Endgame

Wow. There’s nothing more to say. Just wow. You could see it coming, but man was it still great to enjoy the ride as to how we got there.

0 notes