#The little hints of the responsibility of catching Rob being put on her shoulders by Carla and Betsy before this

[crazyhickofftheirrocker]

Unpopular and improbable opinion:

Lisa finally sees how her saviour complex gets in her own way (Vicky Meyers, you were so unsubtly subtle in that interview before Christmas , I could never 👏) and rather than do the sensible thing and parse through it with her partner and daughter, she pushes them away and 'deals with it' by self-sabotaging until something else happens and she breaks and finds Carla and Betsy waiting to help her.

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Not yours - Chapter 1

John Marston is a man on the run, but not from the law. Instead he's running from the responsibility of being a father and caring for his family.

After the birth of his son, Jack, he took off for almost a whole year. What was he up to during that time?

Next chapter

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: pre-canon, she/her pronouns, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, sexual tension, mentions of violence, mentions of sex work, alcohol consumption, angst, spoilers for the Epilogue

The saloon is packed with customers tonight, keeping you on your toes and busy at all times. Drinks are flowing in streams and slurred laughter fills the bar as you try to navigate through the crowd without bumping into anyone. You might not be able to catch a single break, but that doesn't mean you don't welcome the work.

By the end of the night, you will perhaps be paid a bit more than the usual amount with all these tips you're receiving. Eli, the bartender and owner of the saloon is sliding over some shots of whisky your way and you quickly place them atop your tray.

As you make your way to the table to give them their order, you skillfully avoid hitting shoulders and backs. Most of the guests are considerate enough to step aside when they see you coming their way, but some of them are too drunk to tell their right from their left.

"You is always a sight for sore eyes!", one of the regulars, George, exclaims gleefully once you reach the table with the liquor.

"You only say that, because I'm the one giving you drinks.", you reply with a soft chuckle and put down the shot glass infront of him.

"Nah, I mean it!", he protests, his half-lidded eyes staying glued to your face. Seems like he already has had a drink or two too many. "You is a real beauty. A real fine lady."

"Thanks, George."

It's not a rarity to have customers compliment you in this line of work. Sometimes it's an attempt to persuade you into lowering the price for them, but other times it's genuine. Then there are those who tend to get a bit too handsy for your comfort, but it's usually only a handful that steps out of line and not your regulars.

"Are you stayin' all night here, Miss?", one of George's friends asks you, a hint of worry accompanying his words. His name is Perry.

"Wouldn't wanna miss out on all the fun.", you answer, your lips curling up into a smirk.

"Just be careful when you get home, yeah? There's been some nasty stuff happenin' 'round these parts. I'm talkin' robberies, murders."

The man's concern is endearing and you hold the tray close to your chest as you shoot him a reassuring smile.

"I pity any poor bastard who decides to rob me.", you comment between some laughter.

It's the truth. There isn't much you can call your own. With the two jobs, that you only somewhat manage to juggle, you barely scrape by. The cabin your late parents have left you might be small and humble, but it sure comes with a lot of bills. Everytime you receive a letter from the bank regarding the debts, your stomach turns upside down.

"Still. Be careful out there.", Perry insists, the look in his green eyes urgent.

"If ya need someone to walk you home, you just come to me!", George drawls, a lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his mouth and you give his shoulder a friendly pat.

"I'll take you up on it if I ever find myself in need of a chaperone."

With that you walk back to Eli to get out the next round of drinks. As you place the tray onto the counter and reach for the glasses, he had already prepared for you, his hand shoots forward, shooing yours away.

"You have been workin' non-stop. Go get a break.", he barks, his voice harsh, but the look on his wrinkled face gentle.

"I can go on a little longer.", you argue back and reach for the glasses again, but he swats your hands away again.

"As your boss, I insist."

The two of you stare each other down a while longer before he breaks away from your gaze and calls another waitress over to take care of the order. As much as you would have liked to continue, you must admit that he's not quite wrong. You indeed have been running around without taking a breather and now that you think about it, you can feel your feet ache.

Sighing, you walk over to the back wall and plop down onto a couch there. The cushions are soft, but beyond worn-out and the springs of the couch are boring into your back uncomfortably. A woman sits down by your side, a lit cigarette tugged between her slim fingers and you smile at the sight of her.

"Didn't know you were working tonight, Cora.", you say and she takes a long drag from her cigarette.

"Eh, might as well have stayed at home." Smoke leaves her mouth while she speaks. "Been tryin' to chat up that feller over there, but he ain't interested at all. Same as last night. And the night before."

She motions with her chin towards the counter and you follow her gaze. There stands a young man with a lean built and chin long black hair. It's messy, almost unkempt and melts together with the equally black hat he's wearing. His eyes are fixed onto the drink infront of him and the way he's leaned forward makes him seem anything but inviting.

"I haven't seen him around.", you admit, assuming that he must be visiting the saloon outside of your shifts or you've simply been too busy to notice him.

"He's here almost everyday, burnin' all his money for liquor. We thought he'd be an easy target, but no." A frustrated noise escapes Cora's throat and her red curls sway from side to side as she shakes her head in disapproval. "He has a nice voice though."

"He's a fool if he's saying no to you."

"You're too sweet, dear."

She nudges your shoulder with a chuckle and you sit together for a while longer before you stand up with a grunt. Your feet don't hurt anymore, but they sure feel sore. It's going to be hell walking all the way to the hotel tomorrow morning, but you push that thought away for now.

Once you're back at the counter and receiving drinks from Eli, you can't help but let your eyes wander. You give the stranger, Cora has pointed out, a subtle glance to get a better look at him. He's handsome with the shadow of a beard on the lower half of his face and a deep crease between his dark eyebrows. It doesn't look like he's in the mood for light conversation, so you decide to better leave him be.

Then your gaze falls onto the holster on his hips and the revolver tugged inside it. It's not an uncommon sight to see armed men in this town, but that gun looks pretty used with all the scratches and small dents. It has you wondering who exactly this man is, but it's not your place to question your customer's backgrounds. As long as they behave and pay for their orders, you don't care who or what they are.

The rest of the night goes by smoothly, the air inside growing thick with all these people and the smell of booze and sweat. At some point you excuse yourself to Eli and step out through the back door. Filling your lungs with fresh air clears off the fog in your head and your hand rests on the doorknob to head back inside.

A scream has you freeze in place, immediately recognizing the voice. Fear grips you and you quickly follow the source. It sounds like there's a struggle happening in the side alley and you lift your long skirt to not get it dirty in the muddy puddle, that you hop over.

There you find your dear friend Cora trying to push a man away and failing. Next thing you know, a harsh slap cuts through the air and the woman comes tumbling down, holding her cheek. Without waiting a heartbeat longer, you stomp over to the pair and shove him away by his chest.

"What's the matter with you?", you bark, voice raised and echoing along the brick walls around you.

"I paid!", the man slurs, swaying from side to side.

"You ain't paid to hit her, you goddamn animal!"

Even when he squares up his shoulders, towering over you with a menacing glare, you stand your ground. He's unknown to you, clearly not someone from this town. It could be someone passing by, staying only for tonight and then leaving again. Suddenly you recall Perry's words.

Robberies, murders.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you can't back down now. If this turns into a fight, you surely won't be able to win, but it might give Cora enough time to get help.

"You watch your mouth, you who-"

The familiar click of a gun cuts him off and you watch in surprise as the stranger from the bar counter presses the barrel of his revolver against the man's temple. He raises his hands in surrender and backs off, almost tripping over his own feet.

"No need to get aggressive now, friend.", he stutters, his words being followed by a nervous chuckle.

"I ain't your friend.", the stranger with the gun says. He truly does have a nice voice. "Now get your ass outta here if you wanna keep that ugly head of yours."

That sounds anything but an empty threat. All in all, it doesn't even come across as one, but more as a promise. Quickly, the drunk man falls into a sprint and disappears around the corner. With a relieved sigh leaving your lips, you help Cora back on her feet and inspect her face. Her cheek is bright red, but it doesn't look like it will leave a bruise.

"You okay?", you ask her and she only nods. That's when you turn to the stranger, who is sliding his gun back into it's holster. "Thank you so much, sir."

"It's nothin'.", is all he answers, before vanishing into the night.

"How mysterious.", Cora comments, her tone dripping with sarcasm and you get her back inside.

After that dangerous encounter, you find yourself unable to calm down again. Describing yourself to be on edge is the understatement of the century and throwing yourself back into work doesn't seem to be helping. No jokes with the guests and no running around with a full tray of glasses and bottles is managing to keep you distracted.

The stranger with the revolver and the nice voice hasn't returned to the saloon either and you catch yourself being slightly disappointed about it. At first you thought he was just another sad soul trying to drink away whatever is haunting him, but there is definitely more to it. Maybe you will see him again on your next shift.

Every now and then you go to the back to check on Cora. It's not the first time one of her customers lashed out on her, but that doesn't mean it doesn't upset her.

"That nasty son of a bitch better not show up here again. I'll talk to Eli about it.", you hiss through gritted teeth.

"It happens.", she murmurs while pressing a cold, wet cloth to the side of her face.

"It shouldn't." There is a long pause and your gaze falls on the clock hanging on the wall. "I'll ask if I can finish earlier tonight and then walk you home."

Her eyes go wide in disbelief and she hastily shakes her head. "Absolutely not! I can handle myself just fine and I don't wanna be the reason why you won't get full pay tonight."

"I would have ended in an hour or two anyways, so it won't make much of a difference."

Before she can argue some more with you, you already have a hand on the doorknob and make your way to your boss. It doesn't take long to solve the matters and he tells you, that you can pick up the money some time tomorrow. With that you get Cora and throw your coat over your shoulders, before stepping out into the cold night.

Luckily she doesn't live too far away, having a room rented on the edge of town. As you walk on the side of the muddy road, the noises and piano music from the saloon fade away into the background. Now it's just the sound of grass and leaves crunching under your boots and the soft breeze tugging at your clothes.

Once you reach the porch, she turns around to give you a worried look. Her hand rests on the front door.

"What about you?", she asks, her eyebrows furrowed together. "Do you maybe wanna stay here for the night?"

"I'll be fine.", you answer with a wave of a hand, attempting to come off as casual as possible.

"Sure? I don't feel too good 'bout sendin' you home all by yourself."

You take her hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze, your eyes sparkling with resolve.

"I promise I'll be fine."

For a long time, Cora doesn't respond, not making a single sound and you fear she might drag you inside the house to keep you safe. Then she let's out a deep sigh as her resistance crumbles.

"Alright, but I'll check up on you tomorrow mornin'. You're workin' at the hotel?"

"Of course."

"Good. I'll see you there then."

With that she disappears inside the house and you make your way off the porch. You don't mind walking back home all by yourself. It's nothing unusual, having done it countless of times before, whenever you worked the night at the saloon. Tonight though, you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Claiming that the encounter with the man in the alley didn't leave you restless would be a blatant lie. The voice in the back of your mind whispers frightening words into your ear, reminding you that that son of a bitch is still out there. And what if he's upset at you for interrupting him?

Quickly you shake your head in an attempt to get these thoughts away from you and protectively wrap your coat tighter around your body. The cool breeze is now cutting through the fabric of your clothes, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine.

"You're being silly.", you mumble to yourself as you catch yourself speeding up.

Your small cabin is located a bit outside of town, but not too far away. It's a 10 minute walk by foot and anyone rarely uses the road to it. Right now even, you don't meet a single soul on the way and no matter how hard you try to listen for it, there is no sound of footsteps or hooves.

But still, you only allow yourself to finally relax and let out a breath of relief, once you're inside your own four walls again. It's pitch black in there with it being a new moon tonight and you immediately begin to light some of the candles that are placed around.

Starting up the hearth in the middle won't be of much use this late into the night and you pour yourself a glass of whisky for your nerves. A dry chuckle escapes your throat and you run a hand over your face. Now that you're back home, you feel a bit ridiculous for panicking so much earlier.

In a few quick sips, the glass is empty and you set it aside into the sink. Afterwards, it doesn't take long for you to slip into your sleeping garments and blow out all the candles. You toss and turn for quite a while before you fall into a deep slumber.

The first rays of the morning sun shine through the slit between the window curtains, hitting your face. Cracking a yawn, you sit up and stretch your aching muscles. As much as you don't want to leave the cozy warmth of your sheets, you force yourself out of bed anyways and light the hearth in the middle.

The kitchen, eating and sleeping area are all one big room with your bed and closet on the opposite side of the entrance. There is a tub in the corner with a cabinet. That part of the house is being separated by a foldable room divider. It's scarcely decorated in here.

A photograph of your parents wedding is hanging on the wall next to a family picture of the three of you. You were a toddler when it was taken and you distinctly remember your mother always telling you that you simply wouldn't sit still in her lap, nearly robbing the poor photographer of his last nerve.

The skull of a stag with mighty antlers is hanging right above the front door. Your father wasn't much of a hunter, that stag being the only animal he had ever managed to take down. He swore it was due to his own skills, but your mother always claimed it had been by sheer luck.

Without wasting any time, you get ready to start your day and make your way to your second job. The road feels safer now that it's not pitch black anymore and the buzzing of the town in the distance fills you with some more security too. Even without having to jog, it doesn't take too long to reach the hotel in the center.

Once you take a break you could maybe walk over to the saloon on the opposite side to pick up last night's payment. Almost at the same time as you, Cora enters the building and her entire face lights up in relief when her eyes fall on you.

"Ah! You're alive.", she exclaims with a wide smile and you clutch your non-existent pearls in feigned offense.

"You didn't really think I'd die, did you?"

Truth be told, a small part of yourself believed you would die yesterday.

"Of course not." Her voice is higher than usually, giving away the fact she is lying. "But I was worried. A little."

"There's really nothing to worry about.", you reassure her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze and she huffs.

"Maybe, but Perry said-"

"Perry says a lot.", you quickly interrupt her, not wanting the thought to marinade too much in her mind and giving her a reason to be afraid. "And you know that he can get a bit paranoid sometimes."

"I know, I know." A sigh leaves her lips as she fidgets with her hands. "But I've heard talk from others too."

"Cora, don't." Your voice is filled with resolve. "Listen, why don't we have a drink tonight? After my shift here? We'll talk, hang out and just think about other things."

For a moment is looks like she is about to argue further about the topic, but then she nods slowly and you feel a victorious smile spread across your face.

"I'll see you at the saloon then.", she answers and squeezes your hands before leaving the hotel again.

Right after that, something stirs in the corner of your eyes and you see Lilian, your coworker. Her shoulder is leaned against the doorframe leading to the back where the bathing rooms are.

"Got a customer in the back, askin' for a deluxe bath. You free?"

"Of course."

With that you get to work.

Taglist: @warmsideofthepillow03

[chaoticsagi]

FICTOBER 2019 | DAY TWO | “JUST FOLLOW ME, I KNOW THE AREA”

Prompt: 2 -  “Just follow me, I know the area.”

Fandom & Ship: Community, Jeff x Annie

Summary: Jeff, Britta and Troy fly to DC to surprise Annie, but without Annie there to plan it all, it kind of falls apart.

“We’re lost,” Troy whines behind him, his voice rings in Jeff’s ears. This is the fifth time that Troy has moaned in the last 3 minutes and Jeff’s starting to lose his patience with him.

He thinks to himself how, if they had listened to him earlier and actually followed the map he had out on his phone, they wouldn’t even be in this mess. But then his phone died, and then so did Troy’s. Now they had no map, no address, no hints as to where the hell they should be headed.

He pictures them all in Annie’s apartment, imaging them with a hot drink and their feet up on her sofa, listening to her tell a story in her animated Annie fashion. He tries to ignore the fact that they’re currently roaming the streets of DC hopelessly in a desperate attempt to find her apartment building in the cold air. Their luggage drags along behind them and they can’t ignore how tired, bored and cold they all feel.  

The thought of seeing Annie again was the only thing keeping Jeff going at this point. Even if Britta and Troy were there with him. He does kind of wish he could see her alone, but when he announced his plans to his friends, they all begged to join him, and Jeff couldn’t say no.

“Just follow me, I know the area,” Britta says confidently, but it only causes her friends to groan. “I lived in New York, remember?”

“You do realise we are not in New York right now, right?” Jeff feels the need to check, unsure why Britta thinks her faux-knowledge of a completely different city will help her here and now. It’s one of those weird Britta-isms he’ll never understand, but he hopes for her sake she’s on to something. For the love of God, please let her be onto something.

“Shut up,” she nudges his side and storms past him, walking off down the street.

Troy and Jeff pick up pace to follow her, knowing they don’t really have much choice at this point, both their phones are dead and they have no idea where they were. They might as well not lose Britta, even if she is dead weight.

They wander aimlessly for a few more minutes? Hours? Days? Jeff’s lost track of time by this point, and every second seems to be crawling by agonisingly slow. It’s time to face facts, they have no clue where they are. He just wants to see Annie. Why is it so hard?

The idea of surprising Annie with an impromptu semi-group reunion seems stupid now that they couldn’t even find her. Jeff thinks back to their original, half-hatched plans and wonders whether they should’ve just got her to meet them at the airport. She’d probably be embarrassed with his poor planning skills, he thinks to himself after.

“Shall I just call her?” Britta asks 5 blocks later, and Jeff and Troy turn to each other, eyes full of anger (Jeff) and confusion (Troy).

“You’ve had a phone on you the whole time?!” They shout in unison.

“Duh doy. These phones last like a week without charging,” Britta pulls out a very outdated phone from her purse. It looks like a brick and Jeff’s pretty sure he can see an antenna sticking out of it. It looks like a lost relic from the late 80s. “It may not have all your fancy apps on it, but it does the trick.”

“Jeez Britta, how old is your phone?” Troy comments, curiously inspecting the device in her hand. “You seriously need an upgrade.”

Returning back to the task at hand, Jeff rubs his temples vividly. “So you’re meaning to tell us we could’ve called Annie hours ago? Did you seriously not think of that?”

“I thought the whole point of this was that it was a surprise,” she spits out.

He glares back at her. Her reasoning is stupid and he’s not afraid to tell her that.

“Shut up, Winger. Maybe if you didn’t spend the whole flight sorting through your selfies and draining your shitty phone battery, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”

Troy stifles a laugh and stops immediately when Jeff sends him a pointed look.

“I wasn’t even doing that,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. So what? He may have been looking through some old photos of the group all together, reminiscing about the last time he saw Annie… Didn’t mean anything though.

Britta presses call on Annie’s icon, putting the phone on speaker. They can all hear her flustered voice when she finally answers.

“Hi Britta,” Annie calls out in her familiar voice. It sends a chill down Jeff’s spine. That, or cold breeze that just picked up. “Is everything ok?”

“Heyyyy,” she drawls in response. Jeff and Troy stand by, listening in.

“You haven’t locked yourself out of the apartment again, have you? Is there a problem with the rent or something? Have you been robbed?”

“Nah, I’m all good,” Britta continues. “Actually, we do need your help… We’re a little lost.”

“Lost?” Annie’s voice is laced with concern, he can practically sense imagine her sitting at home, heart racing, eyes filled with panic. It’s a pretty cute picture, but he doesn’t want her to worry too much.

“We’re in D.C. but we don’t really know where we are right now… What’s your address again?” He sighs, feeling a bit bad they’ve ruined their surprise.

“Surprise!” Troy adds in before Annie can even react.

“You’re in DC?” is all she says before pausing for a moment. They wait, huddling further into their jackets, unsure if she sounds excited or not. “I’ll text it to you now Britta.”

“We’ll get a cab right over. Thanks, Annie!”

-

“I can’t believe you guys are here!” She jumps up and down as they walk into her apartment. It’s a tiny, tiny excuse for a place. The walls are bright yellow - very Annie - and the kitchen slash living room just about fits them all inside. Thank god the others hadn’t been able to make it; they were already at maximum capacity.

“I missed you,” Troy pulls her in for a big hug. “Plus I have to tell you all my pirate stories - something these two clearly don’t appreciate.” Troy sends Britta and Jeff a glare as he moves away.

Britta ignores him, approaching Annie next. “Your place is… cute,” she tries. 

But in reality it’s cramped, and Jeff’s pretty sure he can feel a breeze coming in through the closed window, he mentally tells himself to check that out later. 

He can tell she’s really tried to make it as homely as she can, with throws and pillows and little dashes of Annie about the place. 

“Thanks,” Annie shrugs. “It’s the best I could do with my savings right now. Oh, and please thank your parents again for covering all the rent while I’m gone, I owe them.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

It’s Jeff’s turn next.

He’s finally standing in front of her, a moment he’s been picturing ever since he dropped her off at the airport with Abed. And yeah, he definitely never imagines Troy and Britta in all his fantasies, but he knows it’s nice for them to all have a group reunion so he’s not exactly complaining. 

“Hey,” he breaths as she steps towards her. He feels a weight on his shoulders, full of words unsaid, longing and feelings. The woman he loves is stood there in front of him, and more than anything he wants to go over to her, pull her close, and press his lips on hers. But he can’t. Not right now, at least.

A silence lingers between them, before she moves closer and wraps her arms around his waist.

“Hey,” she near-whispers back into his chest and the vibration of her voice against him sends shockwaves around his body. For the first time in a while, he finally feels alive. It’s stupid and he tries to ignore it.

“Missed you,” he stops himself from saying more. He really doesn’t want to open his mouth and admits just how much he hates Greendale when she’s not there. He’s been getting by ok, and he doesn’t exactly want to scare her off.

She leans up to whisper in his ear, “I missed you the most.”

She smells like vanilla, all warm and homely and comforting all in one and he can’t help but let a smile dance across his features as he holds her.

“Break it up, guys,” Troy yells across the room, to which Britta adds some gagging noises for dramatic effect. 

“Yeah. I didn’t come all this way to be a third wheel, Winger.”

Annie pushes herself out of his grasp, smiling at her houseguests.

“Who wants to go get dinner?”

Jeff stands by watching the three, all happily discussing where to go. He thinks to himself how lucky he is to have them all in his life still, how lucky he is that they’re all here together despite their Greendale days being long gone. He never could have imagined it would be like this, but he’s so glad it is.

This is it. This is his family.

-

They drop their things off at the hotel before heading for food, and because they all have so much to catch up on, they almost don’t notice the restaurant clearing out for closing time.

So they eventually end up at some random bar Annie recommends and it’s pretty packed inside. Full of people much younger than Jeff, he notes, but tries not to think about it too much.

His mind wanders to whether she’s moved on, found some young, good looking guy here in DC that’s more suited to her new FBI lifestyle than he is. But the thought makes his stomach churn and his head cloud with anxiety and insecurity and he thinks it’s best to leave those thoughts alone. 

He ends up ordering himself a scotch while they all listen to Troy’s recap of his time in Australia and then sneaks out the entrance to the smoking area for some fresh air.

It all feels so surreal now, Jeff’s not really sure how to feel. 

“You ok?” he recognises her voice immediately, and turns to spot a familiar head of brown, shiny hair and bright blue eyes looking up at him.

“I’m good,” he nods, his voice doing very little to mask his true emotions.

Not that it matters. He knows Annie can read him like an open book anyway. He doesn’t know why he bothers trying to hide anything from her.

“Just follow me,” she says, grabbing his hand. “Don’t worry, I know the area.”

He looks at her puzzled, remembering when Britta said the exact same thing. She giggles at his quizzical expression and winks back. Troy had told her the story earlier and she found it completely hilarious.

She leads him away from the bar, just down a quiet, secluded street around the corner. She’s walking faster than he’s ever seen her move and he wonders what her urgency is and where she’s taking him.

She doesn’t say anything, just stops abruptly outside a closed shop, and before he even has a chance to ask her what she’s doing, she leans onto her tip toes and slants her lips on top of his.

His heart explodes and his head goes fuzzy and he can’t quite believe this is happening. He pulls her body closer, his hand nestled into her hair and the other tight on her waist, holding her close.

Her lips taste fruity, like the cocktails she’s been ordering all night (some things never change). Her tongue finds its way into his mouth, and he has to stop himself from moaning too loudly in response. He’s waited far too long for this. His heart pounds in his chest, threatening to leap out if he gets too excited.

Eventually, they part, their chests heaving and their lips red. Her nose is a little pink from all the friction. It might just be the best thing he’s ever seen.

“We should go back before they notice that we ran off,” she smiles innocently and holds her hand out for him to take.

He doesn’t have time to overthink what just happened. All he knows is he can’t wait for the rest of their little secret moments together this weekend.

[helloalycia]

my apple // commander lexa

summary: Lexa sees you fighting and is impressed by your skill, and she offers you a place in her army, but you (to her surprise) turn her down.

warning/s: mentions of violence.

masterlist

          The sword came down at me so fast that I almost got slaughtered in my place, but I managed to see it coming and react just in time to roll out of the way and watch the blade pierce the ground where I was once stood. My breathing deepened as I watched the heavily-built grounder have troubles as he attempted to pull his sword back from the ground, and took this as my opportunity to kick him in the side of his stomach, knocking him to the ground.

         A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he hit the ground with a 'thud'. Before I could try and run away as planned, three more grounders, just as large as the one that decided to reprimand me for stealing one of his apples, raced towards me to defend their friend.

         "Well, this isn't good...," I mumbled to myself, glancing down at the apple that was peeking out of my pocket.

         The three grounders circled me, swords drawn and expressions grim. Bystanders watched the mini fight that was about to take place, and no guards bothered to stop it, leaving me by myself to handle this. The fourth grounder helped himself up and pulled his sword from the ground, stepping forward. He did not look happy.

         "Come on, guys," I tried to reason, smiling cheekily. "It was just one apple."

         No response. Only grunts of annoyance.

         I chewed on the inside of my mouth as my nervousness grew. The longer they circled me like predators, the clammier my palms felt, but it didn't change the fact that I wasn't afraid. Nervous, yes. Kind of.

         "Can I at least get a sword to make this an even fight?" I attempted a final joke, shrugging my shoulders lightly.

         With a clenched jaw, the first grounder ignored my question and moved forward with agility and speed, making me jump into a fighting stance and defend myself from his well-aimed but sloppy strikes. Not having a weapon of some sort was definitely a bad thing, but it didn't deter me from fighting back.

         Dodging the grounder's terrible strikes and attempts at hurting me (thanks to my much smaller frame), I managed to knock him onto his backside and disarm him immediately. His eyes were wide as he watched me with a slight fear, seeing that I had the power to kill him. I wouldn't though.

         Instead, I fought off the rest of his grounder buddies who now figured I was an actual threat. Taking on three boulders of men was a tiring task, but not an impossible one. I dodged, ducked, struck, and pierced when and where I needed to, and found it pretty easy to injure them all to the point where they were unable to touch me. The whisk of a sword missing me was a sound I had become accustomed to during my many unnecessary battles, and that was thanks to me learning to look after myself all of these years.

         I smiled victoriously to myself as I looked around at the four injured grounders who were groaning on the ground like children.

         "I told you it was just one apple," I said knowingly, an amused smirk on my lips.

         "Over there! Get her!"

         My eyes widened when I looked up and saw some of the Polis tower guards in the distance, running towards me with their fully-armed selves. That was strange. Polis guards had never bothered to stop a fight that broke out in the streets. Why was this any different?

         Not wanting to get arrested however, I dropped the sword to the ground with a 'clang' and legged it the opposite way, away from my pursuers.

         It was easy for me to outrun the Polis guards, and even easier for me to blend in with the civilians of Polis enough for them to not recognise me. It was always the same old pattern with me. Rob a thing or two, either manage to get away with it or encounter a small fight here and there, win the fight, then enjoy my feat by feasting on whatever the stolen good was.

         You'd think I would get put off by stealing because of the whole 'getting arrested' aspect, but it didn't really bother me because I never got caught. Fighting was an easy skill that I had acquired in the past twelve years of my life. My parents left me, leaving me to have to learn to look after myself, so that's what I did. And that's why I can defend myself as easily as I do.

         Now I found myself sitting on a bench behind one of the small buildings in Polis, pulling one of the apples from my pocket. It was shiny, red, and looked delicious, and I just couldn't wait for it to be in my stomach.

         The juicy-looking apple was literally inches away from my lips, so close to being devoured. I was finally going to be able to eat for the first time today. So close, but then–

         "What are you doing?"

         I gritted my teeth as I lowered the apple, looking to the person who was preventing me from enjoying my win as I usually did. I admit, I was a little startled to see the Commander of the twelve clans stood before me, veiled in the shadow of the alleyway. She wasn't wearing her armour, but a robe like any other grounder would, making me do a double take to confirm it really was the prestigious leader.

         I rolled my eyes as I groaned lowly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

         She straightened her posture up from leaning against the wall and quirked an eyebrow, probably surprised by my direct attitude. I honestly couldn't give one about kissing up to her. People were scared of her, but I had so many things that she could imprison me for that the last thing I was worried about was getting imprisoned for bad behaviour.

         "It looks like you are about to eat a stolen good," she stated, her intense green eyes murky with authority but also interest, which was odd.

         I pursed my lips. "What, are you going to arrest me?"

         I figured that was exactly why she had followed me, seeing as she was a much better warrior than any of her guards. I may have been able to outrun them, but I don't think I could ever outrun her.

         She almost smiled. Almost. But if even a hint of amusement appeared on her face, it disappeared within a millisecond.

         "No. I am not here to arrest you."

         I raised an eyebrow as I studied the stoic expression she wore, confused to what she was doing. It was the only reason she could be here. Was this a trick?

         I stood up, throwing the apple in the air and catching it in my hand. "Listen, Commander or whatever. If you aren't going to arrest me, I'll be on my way. Right?"

         As I was about to walk past her and take a long-awaited bite of my stolen apple, it was whisked from my hand and grip. I raised both eyebrows as I looked to Lexa, who was leaning against the wall again, throwing the apple in the air repeatedly, a teasing smirk on her lips.

         "Are you actually kidding me right now?" I complained, my stomach growling as it reminded me of my hunger.

         She caught the apple for the final time before studying it in her fingerless-gloved hand. I watched as she rotated it between her fingers, her attention on the apple as she knew it was torturing me.

         "I've been watching you recently," she said, certainly surprising me. "You like to steal."

         I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering where she was going with this. "Is this some kind of game? You're going to arrest me, aren't you?"

         "You fight exceptionally well," she continued, her eyes flickering up and meeting mine. "Who taught you?"

         She began tossing the apple again, and I decided to reach forward and grab it before she could stop me. She smiled a small, impressed smile.

         "I taught myself," I said, before finally getting the chance to press my mouth against the apple. However, before I could actually take a bite, the apple was gone from my grasp again.

         I groaned loudly this time, only to see her staring at me with humoured eyes. What did she want? If she wanted to teach me a lesson, could she just do it already? I was hungry!

         "If you had some more guidance with your fighting, I'm sure you would make a fine warrior for Polis," she suggested, pushing off the wall and stepping forward to me.

         "And if you gave me my apple back, my stomach would stop rumbling," I countered, clenching my jaw with annoyance. "A lot can happen with actions. Now can I leave?"

         She shook her head, earning an eye-roll from me again. "Why don't you want to put your skills to good use instead of stealing things that aren't yours? You will get food and money with this job. Why wouldn't you want that?"

         I ran my hand through my hair. "No offence, but your guards are very stupid. They don't even know what they're doing. Why would I want to be part of an army that can't even catch a simple thief?"

         Shaking my head with frustration, I turned around and began to walk away, knowing I needed to go and steal again because the crazy Commander wouldn't give me my apple back, and I wasn't going to let her waste anymore of my time by discussing useless things.

         "Y/N," she called, making me stop and turn around with a hand on my hip.

         "What?"

         Not saying anything, she tossed the apple in my direction and I caught it immediately, feeling even more confused than before as I watched her walk past me. I looked down at the apple before turning around and looking at the green-eyed leader blend in with her people. She looked over her shoulder and caught my gaze before nodding with a hint of a smile on her lips, then going away.

         "What the heck?"

[reddeadredemptiontrash]

Memories and Scars (John Marston x Reader)

I hope everyone enjoys! I was able to finish this before bed. I’m glad I’m getting to write more!❤️

TAG LIST: @redeadepression @kierannduffy @chernobyl-brewed @sean-macguire1899

You didn’t notice it until a few weeks during John’s recovery.

For as long as you had known John, which was quite some time since you had joined the gang only about a year after he did, he had always been somewhat hard on himself on his appearance.

You came from a troubled family, your mother dying when you were only a couple months old and your father shot people, bad and good to try and keep food on the table and to give you a decent life. That all soon ended when you returned home one night from town after running errands to find your father brutally murdered and your house engulfed in flames. You did what you had to do to survive, but the only thing you ever knew what robbing and stealing, and you didn’t want to work at a saloon or brothel. You were 11, and now all alone.

It was one night while in town planning on stealing from the local general store when you heard yelling coming from nearby. Curiosity lead you to see a boy about your age pointing a gun towards a older couple. The man saw you, yelling about you being in on it too, which caught the young boy’s attention. You raised your hands in defense and yelled back that you didn’t even know the boy, to which he mumbled something about “partners in crime” as he pulled out a gun from his coat before a “That’s enough!” broke through, everyone whipping their head around to see an older man with black hair and a mustache step towards you and the younger boy.

“They’re with me. C’mon children, let’s go.” He looked at the older couples, saying “Not one word is to be breathed about this. Everyone is walking out, it’s done.”

After explanations of what you both were doing and why, the man who you found out to be Dutch Van Der Linde assures you both, the younger boy being named John Marston, that you two were coming with him and would be safe. You two were added to the group of him, Hosea, a boy a few years older named Arthur, and Mrs. Grimshaw. Little did you know you all would become family.

John and Arthur were close, but being seen as “partners in crime”, you two were closer. You got to know each other and the members all hinted at John being sweet on you, but that changed when a girl named Abigail was brought in and suddenly the talk of the camp between the men, if you know what I mean. The thought soured any feelings you had towards it, and completely soured and make you slightly sick when she announced that she was pregnant and was convinced John was the father of the unborn child. After that, yours and John’s friendship was in the distance and Abigail was put first. Sure, you and John still talked, but it wasn’t the same and some conversation felt too awkward and you worried that Abigail might think something was going on so you convinced yourself it was just best to keep your distance. John noticed this, but being the stubborn man he was, he didn’t ask you about it anymore because after you getting pissed off at him the first few times he demanded to know what was wrong with you, he figured it’d save him from getting punched in the jaw.

Then one day, he left. Without a word to anyone, not even Abigail who now had a newborn, aka his son. Arthur and Hosea seemed to be the only ones who could see through your excuses of not being affected by him leaving, and it was hard to fake a smile and act like it didn’t bother you, cause it did.

He ended up coming back, but it had only increased the distance between you both and seemed to put a dent into his and Abigail’s relationship, which seemed like they were just staying together for little Jack’s sake now. That’s how it went for a few years, and it seemed like John always had something to say to you, but never did, and you didn’t push it.

Fast forward to 1899, John disappears again and nobody is really surprised, except Abigail who seemed so hellbent on the man even though they fought more than loved. And no one seemed worried, except for her.

And you, of course. And you tried not the let it show, but some of the gang caught on pretty easily when you not so subtly would ask about him, where he could have went, how long it’d take, why, and other questions. You even talked to Abigail, trying to be reassuring, that he would eventually come back.

And that he did, but something felt changed after that, and not just that John was in bad shape from a wolf attack. You and Abigail were the first to race to help him off the horse and inside the small house in the snowy mountains, and you didn’t even realize it until you felt your eyes sting with tears at the sight of John, weak and bloody.

He slept a lot the first few days and Abigail refused to leave his side, but you kept watch from a safe distance. Until one day, the girls were asleep in their assigned cabin, meanwhile you were standing over him, watching the man sleep.

“Whatcha doing standing over me like death itself?” The voice make you jump as you realized through faint candle light that John was awake and staring at you in the corner. You shrug as you walk over, sitting on the chair at the edge of the bed.

“Just makin’ sure you’re still breathing. Hate to bury an outlaw from a dog fight.” He snorts, moving his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Hell, no one’s burying me anytime soon. I just look like hell, a little worse than before.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You look fine Marston.”

“So we’re on last name basics now, ain’t we?”

You stare at him.

“I hope maybe someday you’ll tell me what happened to us.”

“What?”

“You know, our friendship.”

“You have a wife, and a kid.”

“I only have a woman cause of the kid.” He replies. “Besides, it’s a long complicated story.”

“I’ve heard, you still don’t believe he’s yours. You all fooled with her.”

“Now when you say it all harsh like that-“

“Cause it is, you were the only one to sort of man up and claim responsibility. He looks like you, so I don’t think you’re in much place to doubt it.”

“What’s all this anger coming from?” He frowns lightly, looking towards you.

“No anger, not anymore. I’m just telling ya.”

He looks confused and there’s that stubborn John Marston-ness where the poor man doesn’t know what to say and how to say it.

“Can we talk about it?”

“Maybe later. I’m sure Abigail will be back to check on you any second. Sometime.”

And with that, you leave him frowning to himself in the dark and cold house.

————————————————

He doesn’t forget that you said you would talk about it sometime.

It isn’t until you’re all out of the snowstorm and settle into a location called Horseshoe Overlook, but he doesn’t forget.

He waits until he catches you alone, near the river sitting on the edge.

“I can’t believe you’re sitting here when there’s work to be done.” You perk up your head and snort lightly.

“Piss off cowboy, I’d be listening to Susan for three days, I think I deserve a bit of a break.” He sits beside you and you stare off into the water.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Well Marston, some of us can’t lay in bed all day.” You nudge his shoulder. “How’s that going by the way?”

“Boring as all hell. Dutch said I need to recover before going back out with them. I’m fine. It just looks a lot worse than it is. But everyone should be used to seeing my ugly face now.”

“Don’t say that.” You shake your head.

“You know it’s true Y/N, you’ve known me for almost ten years. Don’t lie to yourself.”

“You looked fine before and you still do. We all got scars and stories. Yours just so happens to be there.” You point towards his cheek. “I hope she ain’t the one putting those thoughts in your head.” He stays silent for a moment as you stand up.

“We all hear what she says to you, and ain’t none of it true, John.” And with that, you walk towards the camp, leaving John to sit and think to himself.

—————————————-

John has always kept his hair long, but not it seemed like he didn’t even make a bother to maintain it. He always kept it in his face, whether he was standing, sitting, always almost covering his eyes and you wonder how he even shot a gun with it like that.

You noticed he stopped making eye contact with people when talking, and part of you assumed it was just because of the screaming and yelling shared in his own tent and Abigail’s most nights, that maybe all the fights were becoming too much for him. John would never admit it now, but he was pretty sensitive back when he was a kid, and you knew this whole numb thing was mostly just an act to not seem so vulnerable.

Him and Abigail broke things off a few weeks later. There were no more yelling and they kept their distance from one another for a while. John had mentioned he didn’t know where they stood, but Abigail made it clear that “Jack having no father was better than having John Marston as one.” and that was that. John put on an act that he was fine with it and that nobody needed to worry, but you saw right through his lies and thus, how your friendship became to strengthen again. You talked more, you hung out more, you even went on a few robbery missions together that brought back a lot of old memories. But there were times that John still wouldn’t look at you, and he avoided any kind of looks no matter what.

It was one day John had to run some errands for Dutch for their next big mission and you saw him getting on the wagon.

“Hey cowboy, hold up! Mind if I ride with you? I asked Pearson if he’d make a little something sweet for Hosea for his birthday and he said he would for me if I got the ingredients. If you’re going into town, I’d appreciate it greatly.” He nods and holds his hand out to you, which you take as he pulls you into the wagon.

“I’m going to sit on the right.” You look at him for a moment as he shifts right.

“Okay.” You don’t think too much of it, but he refuses to look at him, his hair covering his face as the horses begin to move.

“What’s wrong John?” He doesn’t turn his head at the question.

“What you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been acting kind of funny for a few weeks now and don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know it ain’t cause of Abigail or the boy.”

He stays silent for a few moments as you continue to ride.

“Remember when Dutch found both of us? When he brought us back into camp, told us it was home now? I remember Hosea sat us down and told us that Dutch would take us into town to bring some treats if we sat with him and learned to read and write. A few days later, Dutch took us in the general store, and you wanted a chocolate bar, but Dutch told you to just buy the hard candies, and I felt real bad so while Dutch wasn’t lookin’, I stole it for you? The store owner caught me and I took off out of the store running for my life when one of the goons standing outside caught me after he heard the store keeper yelling and tackled me to the ground and got a small punch in on me? Dutch came out raising hell and I ended up getting the chocolate bar, but a black eye too. I remember being ashamed and not wanting anyone to see it, but especially you.” You smile to yourself, shaking your head.

“I hid my eye with my hair because Susan wouldn’t let me use any of her makeup to cover it, because I thought you’d be disappointed in me getting hurt cause of you, and you were. But I don’t remember hearing no complaining about that candy bar.”

That gets John to laugh.

“That... that all was some time ago.”

“About ten years. But we got a hell of a lot of memories together. I helped you learn to draw, you helped me with shooting.... I know any and everything about you John Marston.”

You look over to him. “Well, just about. I’d like to know what’s been going on it that head of yours lately, and why you keep hiding from me.”

“Hiding?”

“Yeah, hiding.” You point towards his hair, knowing he can’t see it.

“It’s strange, but I’ve noticed it. You hide behind your hair, something you never used to do, and the whole seating thing. You never want people sitting beside you, but especially not to your left side and-“ You pause.

“Is it... it is somethin’ to do with those scars?” You say lightly. He sighs and finally looks straight at you for what feels like weeks.

“It’s dumb, alright?”

“John, it’s-“

“It ain’t much of a big deal, I know that. I should know that, but... well. I should just be grateful that I still even have a face after those wolves attacked me, but... it’s hard to explain.”

You shake your head. “John, really-“

“And it don’t help none that Arthur is constantly saying something about them, and Abigail always would throw up in my face about what an ugly man I was, inside and out and... it just did not so good things to me, okay?”

You listen to him and try to process what he’s saying, but his facial expression tells you to leave it at that and you both sit in silence for the rest of the ride.

Later that evening, John doesn’t seem mad at you and talks to you like the conversation on the wagon never happened. You’re all sitting around the fire, at least most of the gang except for Micah, Abigail and Jack, and Tilly. Javier is lightly strumming on his guitar and Uncle is trying to get everything to sing along to some tunes. John walks over and sits on your right side, hiding into his hair lightly as you frown. You stand up, step over him, and sit towards his other side, maybe a little closer than you should as your legs are fully touching. You see John’s body stiffen slightly before relaxing. After a few songs and no words from John, he gets up and walks away, disappearing into the trees right outside of camp. You give everyone a tired look, but they all know you’re going after John. You find him leaned against the tree, staring out towards the distance.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling insecure.” You start off lightly. His eyes flicker to you.

“It’s not-“ His body freezes as you lightly push some of his hair away from his face, exposing the scars more. His wide eyes follow your moves.

“You’re still as handsome as ever, and before you even say anything.... I’ve always thought that, and always will. Those wolves can have ate half of your face and I’d still think you’re one of the best damn looking things there is John Marston.” You admit and before you have time to say more or see his reaction, his lips are crashing on yours making yourself freeze because melting into his touch. You both linger in the kiss a little too long, both gasping for breath as he pulls away, pecking your lips once more before looking at you.

“I just... I just felt so damn self-conscious and.... I don’t wait anyone having to look at this face, “specially not you.”

“John, I’d be honored to stare at your face all day. I....” You let out a small laugh.

“Hosea and Dutch used to pick on us, about us being sweet on each other and... maybe we’re both stubborn.” John smiles lightly.

“Maybe we’re both fools, you’re right. But.... I’d like to be your fool, maybe if you’d let me.” He says smoothly and your mouth nearly drops open. You smile and slowly and gently as possible, place a small tender kiss to his cheek.

“I just might John, I just might.” He takes your answer as a yes as he places his lips on yours once again.

[sextonsharpwinhalstead]

Chicago Med Review 4x03 Heavy Is the Head

It looks like Chicago Med is back to following it’s every other episode pattern. Last episode was the crossover, and, in my opinion, it was weaker than the premiere. This episode did NOT disappoint.

On One Chicago Day Brian Tee hinted that this was his favorite episode for Ethan to date and honestly, I can understand why. I wasn’t sure how they were going to play out the gun/dad hostage situation and truthfully, I was worried Med was entering bootleg John Q territory but the climax to that resolution was shocking! Like Med WENT there. They showed that guy blowing his brains out to save his son’s life, because profits matter more than patients (I’ll get back to that a minute). Every step, every decision, Ethan made he had to wonder if he was making the right call, handling things the only way he knows how. And he wasn’t without his critics.

April did not want him to immediately call the police and I can understand why. But he did, and the situation unfolded in a way he didn’t count on. To add insult to injury for whatever reason the writers have decided to make Emily mentally challenged cause some how she has no idea how to work a microwave and burned something which cause Ethan to fly-off the handle and yell at her. A move April caught and judged him on too. (Real quick are these two together? On a break? Or broken up?) I’m confused and so is Ethan. He snapped on her and to be honest, it was a valid assessment of the situation. April clams up when she is angry and frustrated instead of voicing her feelings about why she feels the way she does. But to be fair; that’s the writers’ fault. April has lacked agency since this show began. We don’t really know who she is. We know she’s stubborn, soft hearted, naturally nurturing, and bends over backwards for others but that’s not personality. Not really, it robs her of intellect, so we never get a rebuttal to Choi and we won’t; because they have no idea why April does what April does. Their inconsistencies don’t lend her to be a woman with nuanced thought who understands that every situation does not require the same response. That could be an answer to Choi. But like I said; it won’t.

In the end we got the same tired ass dynamics of her comforting him and us not knowing her motives or feelings about ALSO witnessing someone blow his brains out in front of them. Med do better by your women!

Let’s talk about the women in this episode because this was a heavily feminized episode if you didn’t notice. (Not necessarily executed in respect but women outnumbered the men 2:1).

First let’s start with Sharon and Gwen.

Did anyone else wonder when Stohl’s contract was up? He was gone two episodes later and in a sad new way that Med’s been doing lately his departure wasn’t even announced. In steps Dr. Lanik and out steps all protocol and common decency. I get the Lanik is Gwen’s “man” but when the hell does the COO start making the decisions she was making? The whole situation reeked and in my opinion a hospital would start asking why they needed Sharon’s position at all when nothing was put through her. Gwen is shaping up to be the Robert Haywood shaped hole in my canonical villain life. Cause she’s going to bounce out of this tragedy like it’s any other day and keep her on agenda. Watch. Lanik…I don’t know. He was shook. And to be honest he doesn’t come across nearly villainous enough to continue fostering the current climate in the ED.

Natalie, Elsa, and Daniel.

First things first. I was raised Christian for the first twenty years of my life. I don’t practice the faith anymore but when I did I never met any Christians as disillusioned as the ones Med writes. To be honest it’s ridiculous. There are few modern women, who are trying to have babies, who aren’t privy to what an ectopic pregnancy is. They are always fatal to the baby and almost always fatal to the mother if left untreated. There is no new way to be re-planted into the uterus and thus the pregnancy is not viable. I know Catholics who know and honor this too. So why they felt the need to go all the way there was lazy and took away from what could’ve been an even more impactful and frankly frightening story. Did Elsa misuse the machine, so she could fudge the test results and save the mother’s life? I’m leaning towards probably. Does Daniel have a fucking leg to stand when it comes to being manipulative when trying to control the outcome of situation? Y’all already know the answer to that question. The fact is that she didn’t bow down to the sage knowledge of Daniel Charles when he approached her in the dining hall. He assessed she was an intelligent woman who really didn’t care about patient medicine and already had her future mapped out. What Med still won’t do is allow her to be truly aloof about it. Elsa wouldn’t care if the patient decided to basically die instead of getting the surgery, she would’ve pulled an Okafor, shrugged her shoulders and walked out to find the next case. Natalie was there to play up the narrative of why what Elsa was doing and HOW she was doing it was wrong but, in all honesty, when the fuck has anyone on this show gave the patients the respect of their autonomy? Especially Natalie, but maybe she’s learned from past? If she had than they should have had her mention it (like with the orthorexic mom).

But this isn’t about that; this is about making sure that no woman on Med dares to be the smartest one in the room and it will punish any of them that attempts to own it too. The men on the show play God all the time and aside from Will none of them have gotten the jilting or stern wake-up call to cool it like the women have. Too many of the women’s arcs on this show prove they are either frauds, or indecisive. I don’t think Elsa is either, and it’ll be hard for Dr. Charles to find mistakes she’s made because her personality type is A, and those types don’t make mistakes.

The last woman I’m going to mention is Ava. Oh, how the mighty have been dragged to the ground. Did anyone else catch the way her eyes slightly watered with rage when she talked about advocating for Connor for the hybrid surgery room. Yeah…I’m calling it, she fucked his dad. All so he could kick her out of the OR. This is not what I wanted out of this character and it’s a disservice if they want her to be a fully-fleshed out lead (which they don’t). Ava is a prop for Connor and it’s an unfair and sexist storyline I’m frankly tired of. Also, how is going from an OR scrub nurse to a Charge nurse a demotion? I did appreciate the little Maggie tidbit of history. Maybe that’s how she and Sharon became close. Anyway, this story was secondary only to the growing size of Connor’s ego. Boy I miss season one Connor. This douchebag is the worst.

Finally, was the Halsteads story. I enjoyed it for several reasons; mainly leaving the hospital. I loved all the little Irish bits of history and culture weaved into the memorial. That saying “May you be in heaven a half-hour before the devil knows your dead” still runs a chill down by my spine. But they brought a light-heartedness to it that I appreciated. I personally do not see Will giving up the venue for the wedding and it’ll end up being some messy crossover event that’ll split the Halstead brothers further…only time will tell.

I will say this; the episode was good but I’m not sure who is wearing the crown that holds the weight.

[ofchasse]

Jailbreak // Chatzy Log

Them rescuing supernaturals, including Shilo and James. Too lazy to properly edit.

Erica

Erica just considered themselves lucky that none of the guards likely had supernatural senses -- that they were all human -- or else the small group of them gathered in the woods close enough to see the spotlights would've meant the end of the line very quickly. She's looking to Stiles' brother -- Stuart ( she still wasn't used to seeing Stiles' features on a much more stoic face ) -- who was hovering over a small tablet in his hand, the glow of it illuminating his features. "What's the plan, bossman?" she's asking him in a whisper with the hint of a smirk -- Stuart looking to her with a fleeting look of what seemed to be confusion and bemusement before back to his tablet, "What? You're the one with the brain full of computer shit -- your ballgame, right?"

She's looking to the doorway, flickering her gaze over it before back to the others where Marco was lingering in the back -- closest to Blake -- with his eyes seemingly glued without moving to the building.

Stuart

Stuart huffs out a low breath at the blonde, a finger sliding over the screen, "Sinon sent me blueprints of the complex," he's murmuring, "We can't just rush in there without a clue of where we are going. We're getting all of them out, if we can help it, and it won't do anyone any good to just start mass chaos. We need a plan of action -- I'm looking for the control room; Allison and I --" he looks to the huntress before back to his tablet, "Will go there. Shut down the alarms, and spring the cells. Blake and Marco will find Marco's sister -- on record, she seems to be the only banshee in this facility; and -- according to Lydia and Tabitha -- she's more likely than not going to be out of it --" Which was a nicer way to say half catatonic. With the collar preventing her from screaming, the voices likely caused her to shut herself out in defense. "So Marco and Blake will carry her out if needed; and look for .. James, right?" he looks to Blake then before back down to the tablet, flipping through names, "Shifters are on another hallway -- Shilo seems to be on the laboratory hallway, which has less security --" Stuart knew this by experience, but he seemed to be outwardly coping well with the reminders.

"And then Erica will play sheepdog ; the supernaturals in that building, once out, will be confused and panicked. They need guidance to get out of the building and to Satomi and her group."

Allison

If she hadn't already been in 'ready to go' mode, then Allison would have laughed at the way that Stuart seemed both annoyed and perplexed with being put in charge. Erica was right, though - he was the one with the plan that they needed to get in there and get out safely. Hopefully. She's focused on the door and the area around them, gun held in her hand like a vice that she couldn't give up. She'd considered her bow for the silence it provided, but an arrow wouldn't win in a gun-fight.

When he speaks about the building, she looks to him, eyes tracing his features for signs of distress. It hadn't been that long ago that they'd been breaking him out of here - not even long enough for both of their wounds to fully heal. He seems okay for now, but Allison feared that he might break down at some point.

Blake

It's good for Blake that they decided to stick her and Marco on Shilo duty together - she wasn't sure that she could get in there and out alive if she didn't have someone to keep her feet under her. If she wasn't able to find James - or worse, found him in less than the state she wanted to find him in - she wasn't sure she could recover from that. But it wasn't just James that she was there for. She had others to take care of, and it included Marco and Shilo. They both needed to be safe before she could lose it, if they didn't find James.

Her posture shifted, stiffened, as Stuart spoke. She nodded just slightly when he looked to her, confirming that he had James' name right. Stress seemed to radiate from her body, heart already racing despite the fact that they hadn't quite gone into the eye of the storm yet.

Marco: Marco felt strangely on the outside of it all ; he was here for Shilo, it was merely just luck that there happened to be so many supernaturals inside. Yes, of course he wanted to help them all get free -- he felt selfish in the matter, however, that his first priority was Shilo. And then everyone else. Albeit, he kept that to himself. Outwardly, he was sure the ones with heightened senses could smell his anxiety ; his fear. Marco had only shifted once, and it was when he had had his collar removed by Lydia ; Satomi and Deaton in the room for safety, and the older Alpha had had to calm the man down -- bring him down from his shift. He didn't quite yet know what he was capable of, and the senses outside of the enclosed underground was nearly overwhelming -- darkened gaze on the main doors where one man stood armed. I think that I know him -- he mused bitterly to himself, before he was saying as much aloud, "I know .. the man. The one who is standing guard,"  he's whispering under his breath, Erica and Stuart's focus now on him, "I had served with him overseas. He was in my troop, for a time --..." Marco is frowning and Stuart is lowering his tablet just a little.

The alpha shakes his head, "I will take care of him - one way or another. I will go up - alone - and talk to him. See if I can get him to stand down. And if I cannot...-" He trailed off and gave a meek shrug of one shoulder. "He will not stand in the way of all of the innocent supernaturals inside. When he is down, we need in quickly."

Erica

Part of her - as her gaze catches the weapon in Allison's hand - wanted to comment on it. Wanted to comment on the lines that used to be drawn between them and the chasm that had been built between werewolf and huntress while they were in high school. However, Erica was not the teenager she had been when her live had been robbed of her. What she went through with the Dread Doctors, and her life she lead in Nevada with The Phoenix Tail rebellion, Erica had changed. Allison was not her enemy, and she knew this, and she would not cling to petty grudges that were more than half a decade old. So, she purses her lips and cuts her gaze away from Allison to Marco as he speaks before looking to the man in question ; eyes illuminating a soft gold color before it flushed itself out.

"Which way am I going, geek monkey?" she asks Stuart, eyes still on the man as if she was making sure they were not heard.

Stuart

Stuart watches Marco for a long moment ; it wasn't that he did not trust the alpha -- he did, everything matched up -- it was that human emotions were messy, and Marco looked troubled. Albeit, family bond -- blood or not -- was a powerful thing, sometimes more powerful even than the supernatural, so he let it go; deciding to trust that Marco would do what he needed to do when faced with someone who stood in the way of his sister. His lips noticeably thin in the light of his tablet before he's looking down at it ; he seems to be, for the moment, avoiding Allison's gaze as Allison was likely the only one who knew how effected he might be -- and, in that moment, he truly just needed to focus.

"Second floor, Erica, is where the shifters are kept. Lead them out the back entrance once Allison and I spring them, then double back to the third floor -- there are a few vampires and two witches there." The blonde merely nods in response.

"Marco and Blake - the lab is on the first floor, two rights in the hallway. James is on the floor with the shifters, right above your head -- " he taps a small radio at his hip before gesturing to one Erica held, "Erica, if you see James, contact Marco and Blake and try and send him downstairs to them. We all have to go under the assumption that all of these supernatural are handicap. But, even without their abilities, they greatly out number the guards and scientists inside as long as they are out of their cells -- if a fight does break out."

Allison

Allison wasn't entirely certain how she felt about Marco yet - the alpha was so new to his abilities that she wasn't sure she would trust him to go in but they hadn't much other choice. It was because of him looking for his sister that they'd found all the other supernaturals in there - that they had a chance of getting them out and to safety. Still -that didn't mean that she trusted him to keep his cool. Though she wanted to speak up when he said he would take care of the one at the door, she remained silent. He had been in the military, maybe he had it in him.

She continues to remain silent as Stuart avoids her gaze, listening as he doles out instructions in a way that proved that he was the right one to look to for direction in this. Anxious to get going, Allison checks her gun one last time before her gaze is back on Stuart - waiting.

Blake

Blake almost wanted to protest when Marco spoke - but not for the same reason that anyone else might. She wasn't sure she could watch him kill someone, having to see that last bit of her childhood spill blood in a true confirmation of how damaged her life had become. Ultimately, it wasn't her place to speak against his wishes, and she remained begrudgingly silent, eyes moving to him as though to confirm whether or not he truly was okay with what he was offering to do. He'd not just be killing anyone in his way, he'd be killing a friend - because she was not naive enough to believe that the man would stand aside for them.

Stuart pulled her gaze from Marco, gaze going to him and then to Erica. "Tall, blonde. Basically the male version of me." She told Erica, to confirm that the other knew what she was looking for - but it wouldn't have to be hard. Werefoxes were few and far between, and they smelled different to wolves. It killed her that she couldn't go look for him herself, but she knew that Marco needed her help.

Marco

Marco falls quiet for the moment -- to let the others weigh in on what he said -- but when no one seemed to outwardly depute him, he made the decision that he would do what needed to be done -- regardless of the fact that this man ( Richard Falls, Staff Sergeant ) had been his friend at the time. He lets everyone else finish up speaking, handing his own radio to Blake for the moment -- as each group had just one -- before standing to his feet once everything was settled.

He knew that there were enough shifters -- Erica and Blake -- with them for them to eavesdrop just in case something did happen. In case he did lose control ; or in case Richard was not the only one up there. Erica seems to be giving him a cautious glance as he was taking the long way ( notably to Stuart, which meant he seemed to be trying to not give away their position ) before approaching the man -- palms up to show he was unarmed. ( Not that it truly mattered, with what he was, but Richard likely didn't know this yet. )

Erica

Erica laughs slightly -- but, unlike in her teenage days, it didn't seem to be thick with malice; hands grasping at her hair to tie it up on the top of her head to get it out of the way. "I can smell your scent stronger than anyone else's here, honey. I'll find James -- trust me." Despite her words, the chimera does seem to give Blake what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. "We will get Shilo. And James. And everyone else out of there safely."

She then falls quiet when Marco stands -- eyes following him carefully; molten gold once more overtaking her features as she creeped a little closer, but still outside of the man's range of sight; clearly now focusing all of her senses on Marco and the man.

Stuart: Stuart waited to make sure that everyone was on the same page before he was watching the alpha stand and make his way to the door -- tucking the tablet safely away; which he would also later use to try and rip whatever data he could out of the control room inside. He took is standing straighter, adjusting his radio and keeping himself a few paces behind the blonde ; eyes on the door and the alpha as he feels a warm heat of his magic drumming under the surface of his skin.

Guard: Everyday was usually the same - quiet and long. But today was different. The second he heard the other approaching, Richard was on alert - eyes finding someone that belonged much too far in his past rather than in front of him with his palms upturned. "Russo?" He questioned, gripping his gun because you could never trust anyone in this world - not anymore. Not when his very neighbour had killed his wife and kids.

Marco: Marco stopped a good few feet away from him -- and, for the moment, he kept himself completely human. He didn't want to push him if he didn't have to. He slowly lowers his hands, even with the barrel of the gun still on him. "Falls -" he breaths, ducking his head in acknowledgement before taking just a single step closer. "You know why I'm here -- don't you? You know she's in there."

Guard: "Yeah, I know." His expression is hard, unwelcoming to Marco. "I can't let you go get her." She was a danger to the world - maybe he was too.

Marco: Marco huffs out an uneasy, sadden laugh as he shakes his head, "I am not asking permission, Richard," he starts slowly with a small roll of his shoulders. "Don't make this difficult."

Marco: * saddened

Guard: "You're one of them too, aren't you?" Richard asks, finger going to the trigger of his gun as he took a step back - back hitting the door as he did so. "Don't make me shoot you Russo - I don't want to but I will."

Marco: His eyes flicker down for a moment to Richard's trigger finger before flickering back to his features ; merely taking a few more slow steps closer to him. "And I don't want to hurt you - but I will," he told him instead of answering the question. "If you stand between me and my sister, then I will."

Guard: "Russo - I mean it. Stand down - you're sister isn't getting out of here. Even if you get past me there are a hundred more guards in there!"

Marco: He let out a humorless chuckle, his eyes dropping down for a moment as his jaw tightened. "- I was injured, you know. Paralyzed. And because of that, the government cast me aside, despite everything that I did for them ; despite them being the reason I was like that in the first place. And when I was attacked -- they just collared me like they would anybody else. They never even gave me the chance to process what happened to me; or even let me heal. I was still barely walking by the time that I was collared." He raises his eyes back up to Richard at this point, chocolate hues simmering a bright crimson before fading for the moment. "I will get my sister, one way or another -- don't make this difficult. You were my friend -- you going to let some bullshit they have shoved down your throat change that?"

Guard: Richard clenched his jaw - he had known what had happened to Marco. They had talked about him when his sister showed up, had laughed at him. He hadn't heard that he'd been bitten, but it was obvious now that he had. If his walking weren't clue enough, his devil's eyes were confirmation. "I'm sorry, Russo - I can't let you." He spoke, before taking aim and pulling the trigger - someone would hear the shot.

Marco: When the shot rang out, there was a small cry of pain from the man -- taking a stumbling step back as a hand went to his shoulder where it had ripped through the bone. The cry of pain almost had a lupine-like growl to it as his eyes flashed once more; grunting before he was looking up at the other man. He shakes his head again, this time his eyes not fading, "You should not have missed," he breathed, voice soft before his hand came away from his shoulder -- already covered with his own blood -- and was grabbing at the wrist that held the gun; shoving him back with the grip and up against the wall, twisting his arm back and behind him as he used his knee to shove him into the wall from his back -- hoping to cause him to drop the gun.

Guard: The shot missing its mark was likely one of the most horrific moments of Richards life - but then again, it wasn't near as horrific as losing his family had been. And with that, he tried to get off another shot before the man that had once been his friend was grabbing him and twisting his arm. "You'll die in there, Russo. They'll kill you like the dog you are." He hissed at the man, as the pain in his arm made him release the gun with a clatter as it dropped to the ground.

Marco: His claws had dropped, and despite how much easier it would be to incapacitate Richard if he used them, he was still merely using his strength to hold the man up against the wall; even if his anger made him shake and his vision run red -- blood beginning to run down his arm and stain his shirt. "I would not worry about my fate too much, Richard -- I will give you one last chance. I can let go, and you can run. Or I will get past you to get my sister. Will you let me past? Do not lie to me."

Guard: Richard's expression steeled as the other spoke, "No." He answered, "If you have to kill me then do it - I'd rather not live in this world anyways." He growled. Never would he let any of them escape willingly.

Marco: Marco swallows thickly for a moment ; closing his eyes as he fell quiet. He listened ; listened to Richard's heartbeat, before pushing past it and listening to the heartbeats of every single person inside of the facility -- meshed with the heartbeats of his team. Somewhere in there, one of those heartbeats was his sister's. He lets out a quiet growl, the hand of his injured arm coming up to press against his throat - to dig claws into the skin, " -- they have fed you lies that we are monsters; and I do not believe that I can change your mind. I didn't want to do this, Richard. I hope you understand that - that I can't let your life stand in the way of Shilo's, and every other innocent supernatural creature inside." He hesitates another beat before a slow, weak heartbeat stood out from all the others -- one that pushed and pulled at him before he was ripping across Richard's throat in one, quick swipe and stepping away to let him fall.

Erica

Erica watched with caution from the sidelines -- listening carefully as her eyes continued to be a soft, gold beacon in the night, fingers curled around the bark of the tree as if she was anchoring herself down and readying herself. But, as she watched the exchange, a shot was fired -- she went to move, but Stuart grabbed her by the wrist ( "Wait, look -- give him time," Stuart was whispering. ) before she watched him shove the man against the wall, talk to him for a moment longer before the man fell.

Erica could smell guilt and sadness from the man who hovered over the body -- but, what was important in the moment was that she smelled emotion. The lack thereof would mean he was losing control, but he just felt ... sad. "He's good," Erica started, "Quick, he said, we need to move."

Stuart: Stuart was nodding in agreement with Erica when she spoke, "She's right -- people inside, the wrong people, would've already heard gunfire; we need to get moving quickly." He's finally looking to Allison, giving her a small nod before he was beginning to move out of the tree line, making sure his radio was on -- but low enough to not be heard outside of his own ears -- and trusting that everyone else would follow as he approached where Marco stood ; the alpha soon shaking himself out of his stupor and following Stuart and Erica in -- hanging back only slightly to wait for Blake.

Allison: Allison met eyes with Stuart before she was moving just slightly behind him, gun at the ready. She gazed at the alpha as she moved closer, studying the way he seemed to shake himself out of whatever head space he was in. Her eyes turn towards the door, knowing there is nothing she can do to comfort him or the obviously distressed werefox behind her. She keeps herself focused on what she can control - and at the moment that is keeping Stuart safe.

Blake

Blake could barely watch the interaction, eyes tearing away from the scene only to be drawn back like a horror movie. Allison had to grab her forearm when the gun shot echoed in her head, rattling around like a bad movie soundtrack. She gripped at the bark of the nearest tree until its rough surface cut into her palm and the man that Marco had known fell to the ground dead. It takes all she has not to run to Marco, to make sure that he is okay.

Instead she takes a deep breath and wipes at her eyes, looking away from the group now approaching him for the merest moment. It would likely not be the only person Marco had to kill that night, but it doesn't stop the way Blake feels terror rush beneath her skin for him. She steels herself and finally follows behind them, at a slight jog to catch up. When she reaches them, she has to suck in a breath to steady herself before she looks to Marco - confirming that the wound is already healing, eyes brimming with concern that she swallows down in preparation for whatever they're about to face.

Marco: As he hung back to wait for Blake, his attention did pull to the still pulsing injury on his shoulder ; shoving his ruined sleeve up to look at it -- he didn't have time to be in awe of how quickly he was healing ; how the wound was almost closing before his eyes, and all that would be left of it in a few moments would just the blood -- it was his hand skittering across it gently that made him realize his claws were still out ; stained with his own blood, and Richard's. He's inhaling sharply and jerking his hand away as if he had been burned, forcing the claws back in in time to look up to see Blake. He sighs -- looking to Stuart for a brief moment, nodding to him before gesturing down the hallway that Stuart had instructed them to go down.

Stuart

He paused to make sure that everyone was in, keeping one hand free at all times in case he needed to fight before they got into the control room -- taking stock of the small team before looking to Allison, watching as Erica gave him a small look before heading for the stairs -- watching her glowing eyes before she disappeared out of sight.

He grasps at Allison's wrist, squeezing gently, "Left, and then a right --" he whispers the directions to her, in case they were somehow split up in the small distance between here and there.

Allison: Allison looks to Stuart and gives him a small smile, "I'm right on you," She told him gently, as though to say that she wasn't going anywhere. She had no intention of being split up from him - they were doing this together and making it out safely this time. Without any extra bullet wounds.

Blake: Blake catches a breath before she is pulling her gun from its holster and checking it over. She may have claws, but a gun is going to help much more when she's across the hall from her opposition. She watches Erica go with a quiet frown, looking to Marco now for his lead.

Marco

Marco inhales a shaky breath, looking back to Blake for just a moment before glancing down the hallway. His senses were still vastly unfamiliar to him, and it took a moment to try and narrow in on what he wanted. No -- needed, not wanted. Because what he wanted was to try and hone in on Shilo's heartbeat. But what he needed was to make sure that there was no danger between them and her. Listening down the hall for out of place heartbeats.

"--- I think we are clear for now," he whispers, voice scarcely audible as he knew her ears would pick it up before beginning to follow Stuart's directions down the hallway, eyes glowing a soft red as he did.

Stuart: He merely gives a mute nod to Allison when she confirms that she's right behind him, feeling the red hot heat of his magic on standby as he kept himself as close to the wall as possible. While he could do a lot, they didn't have the advantage of superhuman senses like the rest of the team. He took the directions that he had given Allison, making sure she was still on him, before coming to a door ; quietly trying it before gesturing to her to watch his back - he needed to pop the lock.

Allison: Allison followed behind Stuart, her training kicking in like it had only been hours since her last training session. She didn't have superhuman hearing, but she knew what to listen for - footsteps and casual chatter. When Stuart nodded to her, Allison stands close by and keeps her gaze scanning the area around them, occasionally glancing to the door. It was likely that there was someone inside that room, but they wouldnt know until they got the door open. "Careful," She warned him softly.

Blake: Blake follows silently down the hall, her gun at the ready as she keeps an eye on their backs, letting the others cover in front of them. She stays close to Marco, not staying more than a couple of feet behind him in case he picked up Shilo's presence. All the while she was listening for James to no avail.

Marco

He's quiet all the while, listening to whatever signs that he could pick up -- albeit, after a while, he picks up the same, slow heart beat as before; and his breathing stutters as he stops in the hallway ; red hues fluttering shut as he slowed his breathing to try and find the direction that the heart beat was coming from. It was her--, it had to be. He was still for a very long moment -- scarcely not even aware that what he was listening to was a pack draw -- before he was opening his eyes again, "Two doors on the left," he whispers, gesturing forward before going for the door ; feeling the resistance of the lock.

"I'm going to break the lock," he then tells her, already beginning to put a little more force behind the doorknob as he hears metal begin to groan.

Stuart: He merely nods mutely at Allison -- knowing that the control room was likely not unmanned. He wraps his hand more firmly around the metal of the doorknob, a flash of purple in his eyes before he was closing them ; focusing on the lock. " -- whoever is in there is going to hear it," he breaths, "We need to be ready as soon as it opens." Seconds after he spoke, the lock is clicking open and he's opening the door quickly, eyes still flared up purple as he steps to the side to give Allison room ; at her back to defend her if he needed to.

Allison: Allison is moving into the door slowly as soon as Stuart moves aside, and she spots her a second too late - a flash of dark hair in the corner of her peripheral vision that jumps at her. She's pushed to the side as she's tackled, gun clattering to the floor as it's shoved out of her hand. Allison struggles, tumbling to the floor with the woman, ignoring the pain that flares up in her shoulder.

Blake: Blake nearly runs into Marco as he stops suddenly, turning around to face him as he seems to be trying to find Shilo. She knew that connection like the back of her hand - she'd had the same thing with James since the day she was born. It had nearly killed her the day he'd gone missing. She nods as he moves towards a door, and when he speaks she doesn't say a word, merely watches the hall around them and readies her gun over his shoulder into the room, just in case.

Dev: The door clicks open and Dev is ready, knife in her hand as she launches herself at the dark-haired woman coming into the room. She moves to stab the woman as they tumble to the floor but the knife hits the tile beside her head and sticks - abandoning it she goes to her throat with a hand, trying to gain enough leverage to at least force her to pass out. She winces as a foot connects with her shin, before she's toppled over and the woman is on top of her.

Marco

He feels his strength in ways he never had before -- barely even *straining* as he felt the lock groan more so until it *snaps* inside of the door; releasing the handle as it merely swung open. Marco takes a moment -- just a moment -- to compose himself before he's throwing it the rest of the way open ; and his eyes flicker back to human in a mere heart beat. "Shilo ...-" he is whispering, temporarily sounding much *younger* than he truly was.

There was no one else in the room, mercifully, just her. He couldn't tell if she was aware or not where she was sitting up against the wall -- no longer hesitating even slightly as he rushed into the small room and crashed to his knees by her; a hand on her shoulder as he spoke in quick, panicked Spanish, "Shilo -- little sister.... It's ... It's Marco... I -- I am so sorry, can you hear me?"

Stuart

Stuart hisses out Allison's name as the blur of black hair flickers through his vision, eyes flaring up even brighter as the two woman grapple to the ground -- trying to find an in without hurting Allison. He knew that Allison could easily take care of herself, even against supernatural, but he wasn't sure what this woman was capable of.

So, instead of pushing too much, he's merely jerking the knife out of the floor -- pocketing it so that it wasn't in the stranger's reach.

Allison

Allison grunts as she leverages herself on top of the Hunter - clearly one by the way she fights, though she is sloppy. Still, she catches her in the face with a fist and Allison grunts in pain, the two struggling for a few moments longer before Allison gives up trying to pin her. Reeling back with her good shoulder, Allison punches the girl right in the nose, wincing with the pain in her hand from the punch - followed by another. She feels her go limp beneath her and rolls herself off the other girl, standing and retrieving her gun just in case the other wakes up.

Gun pointed at the Hunter, she looks to Stuart, "What do we do with her?" She asks.

Blake: Blake moves into the room behind Marco, staying near the door to watch for anyone coming down the hall as Marco tried to rouse his sister into lucidity - "We need to go soon, Marco," She warned him softly, "You're going to need to carry her."

Dev: Devana struggles the best she can, catching the woman in the jaw with a stray punch before her face is lighting up with pain. Soon after, she's seeing stars and then her world goes black.

Shilo

A sound seems to come from somewhere in her world, but sounds have long since become her jailers. She tries to swim through the void of sound to figure out what this new one is, and it is the touch of skin on her own that seems to lead the way - the sound of her native tongue spoken to her in rushed tones that helps her blink back enough of the fog to see the face so close to her own that if she could lift her arms she would just to confirm its reality.

"Brother?" It seems unreal - she'd long since lost count of the days since she'd seen his face. Perhaps she had finally died? Her voice is hoarse, cracked from the crying that was all she could do to appease the screams that wanted to burst forth.

Marco

He almost doesn't hear Blake's voice as he tries to pull his sister back to him, a hand coming up -- shaky as it was -- to press against her jawline; soothing his thumb over her skin, over the dried tear lines, as he watched her. As his breath shook and he realized there were wet tears on his own cheeks that he didn't even know when they started. Pleading gently under his breath before was speaking.

A sob broke out of his chest, dropping his head down against her for a moment. "Shi --- I am so sorry, Shi. It's me, I'm here. You're safe now, I promise. We -- we don't have time. I'm going to carry you out of here, okay?"

Stuart

Stuart merely watches helpless from the side for a moment before huffing out a small breath when the stranger is knocked unconscious -- stepping into Allison's space to rest a gentle hand on her shoulder, affirming that she was alright. "Tie her up in the corner -- if she's in here, she's important. She knows things we need to know. We'll take her back to the Underground. Have Satomi see if she can get anything out of her." From there. .. -- he wasn't sure. They weren't the torturing type, and he wasn't sure what other methods Satomi had up her sleeve.

He was turning away from Allison, because they didn't have much time, before sitting down at the computer -- plugging in his tablet before beginning to pull up programs -- "Radio the others, let them know we're in and to give me a few minutes."

Allison: Allison had been prepared for this, pulling her backpack off and digging in it for the rope she'd packed. She set to work tying up the Hunter while Stuart began his work. When he speaks, she nods, and pulls out her radio - "We're in. We need a few, I'll radio when we're ready - if it's longer than five minutes then go." She tucks it away again before finishing tying up their new captive. Her knots are tight, and she makes sure of it - there's no room for a mistake here.

Blake: Blake hears her radio crackle to life and she sighs, anxious to get going, but she pulls her radio out and confirms Allison's message - letting them know that they were safe. She tucks it back away and glances back at Marco, her heart hurting for him in that moment.

Shilo: Shilo doesn't speak, she merely nods at his words - fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Each muscle in her body screams as she tries to move, strained too long with the pain of the handicap preventing her from screaming. "I can't move," She speaks softly, apologetically.

Marco

His bottom lip trembles slightly despite himself, kissing her forehead before he was nodding, "It's okay," he promises, smoothing her hair from her features, "I can carry you, it's okay -- I'm going to get you out. I'm going to get you somewhere safe, and we're going to get that thing off of you, I promise." He soothes that hand through her hair before speaking again, "I'm going to move you now, okay?" He gives her a moment to comprehend that before he's gently cradling her, one arm under her legs, and the other around her shoulders before he's standing with her; amazed at his strength, at how she felt weightless as he cradled her against his chest, looking to Blake.

Now they waited for the cells to be sprung so Erica could direct James down to Blake and they could leave. Because he wasn't leaving without Blake, either.

Stuart

He spares a small glance to Allison before looking back to the computer -- starting a download onto his device of data before he was beginning to look into the security files, releasing each and every one of the data files on the "patients", as they were called ( it made him sick ).

"Alarms disabled," he spoke as he continued to filter through things, his voice scarcely audible over the sound of him typing and opening different files. He was quiet for a moment longer before huffing out a breath, a very fleeting smile on his lips before it was gone, "Cell doors should be opening."

Allison: Allison listens and watches, waiting for Stuart to work his magic before she pulls out the radio again. "Cells should be opening now." She breathes into the radio, tucking it away again as she waited for Stuart to be done so they could get the hell out of there.

Blake: When Allison speaks into the radio again, she feels a small sense of relief that is only fleeting - they still have a long way to go before they are in the clear. She glances back to Marco and Shilo, gaze flitting over both of them before she is looking back to the door, gun held up and ready to shoot anyone coming through that door with a gun.

Shilo: Shilo merely nods, closing her eyes as he lifts her, hiding the pain poorly but still attempting to hide it. She catches her breath when he finally has her cradled against his chest, breathing short and harsh.

Marco

He can smell the pain radiating off of her -- all of his senses still so startlingly new that he was surprised he was able to identify what he was sensing. Regardless, he was resting a hand on the back of her neck ; holding her steady against him as he did what he had only been told that he was able to do -- breath hitching as he began to draw her pain out. He could take it, he had been in pain for over ten years -- and, for the first time, he wasn't; he could shoulder Shilo's.

"Floor two clearing out -- heading your way, Red Leader," came Erica's voice, addressing Satomi before, "Red Heeler, Metztli -- plus one friendly headed your way." James was headed their way --

Stuart: "A few more seconds--" Stuart was whispering, standing to his feet so that he could be ready to pull out his tablet and leave, "Can you carry her by yourself, or will you need my help?" he's asking, looking over his shoulder and pausing merely to listen to Erica's voice over the radio. They could do this --, but he didn't have time, at the moment, to relish the hopeful approaching victory.

Allison: Allison smiles as she hears Erica's voice over the radio and as Stuart stands, she is moving towards the unconscious hunter. She tested her weight, lifting her up over her shoulder, "Yeah, I've got her - just not for an extended amount of time." She wasn't too heavy, Allison would be fine for now. She moves towards the door, readying herself to leave as soon as Stuart is ready.

Blake: Blake's heart leaps into her throat as she hears Erica's voice over the radio, before she is feeling him all but running towards their location. A half-sob leaves her throat, and she is met after a minute with her brother's strong scent as he turns the corner and they collide into a hug that sends her reeling backwards just a little with the force of it. "James," she laughs disbelievingly against his shoulder and allows herself one more moment of contact before she pulls back and retrieves her radio, "Friendly received," She confirms, sounding breathlessly happy.

Shilo: Somehow, Shilo's pain seems to dissipate with her brothers touch and she's not sure why - but it is still not enough. She remains still save for the shaking of her body in his arms, not lifting her head from his shoulder - trusting that he will get her to safety. She knows that if he's made it this far to get her, he won't fail.

Marco

Marco keeps his eyes out down the hallway as James and Blake reunite -- a small, hidden smile on his lips as he holds Shilo just a little tighter, nodding as she radios back Erica and making brief eye contact with James ; deciding to reintroduce himself once they were out of here.

"Clearing out floor three -- three minutes, I will be right behind floor three, copy Red Leader?" came Erica's voice over the radio, answered quickly by Satomi.

"It is also time for us to leave," Marco was telling Blake and James. "Quickly ; even if Stuart disarmed the alarms, Richard's gunfire was enough to get attention. I am surprised we have no been attacked yet."

Stuart: "Just let me know when you need me to take over," he tells her, gently taking the radio from her hip as he listens to Blake and Erica and Satomi. "Juliet and Pariah clearing out -- radio silence unless you need assistance," he spoke quickly, nodding to Allison before he was leading the way out of the control room.

Blake: Blake nods, gun at the ready as she looks back to James and Marco, "Just stay close," She tells them, leading the way out of the room and down the hall back the way they'd come. They were so close to getting out of there that it almost felt like a victory, but she knew better than to count her ducks before they hatched.

Marco: Marco nods to her, keeping Shilo cradled close to his chest -- letting Blake lead the way this time, as he couldn't fight as easily with Shilo in his arms. He didn't want to drop her, not when she was in this state -- he had to protect her, when he hadn't been able to for the past four years. "Keep your ears open-" he whispered.

Blake: Blake half-smiles at his words, because she never closes them. They move at a good pace through the halls, back to the door that they entered through and out into the fresh air - one step closer to freedom. She can't wait to have James safe again.

Marco: He follows them more so as they get closer to the entrance, trying not to jostle Shilo too much as he did so. Albeit, they were almost at hte door when Marco's jaw tightens, "I think there is people outside," he whispering, eyes glowing as he tightens his grip on his sister.

Blake: "I'll go first," Blake whispers, readying her gun as she gently nudges the door open with her gun held at the ready - James close behind her. The people outside are not what she expects, and for a moment she pulls up short, shocked into silence.

Marco

Marco slowly edges out behind them, Shilo still cradled in his arms -- the people across the area looked *cautious* of them, but curiosu as well. And Marco's eyes narrow, looking over his shoulder as his heart hammers. He hears slight fighting in the distance, but there is no sound over the radio -- so he assumes that it was on Erica's side of things, and Satomi's group has it taken care of.

"-- who are these people? These are not security."

Blake

Blake holds her gun up at them despite their lack of weapons or aggressive behaviour - she isn't going to be caught off guard. She frowns at them, keeping herself between them and her companions.

"I don't know -" She manages to get out before she notices a camera - "They have a camera -" She hisses out to Marco, too quiet for anyone but their own ears and James' to pick up.

Marco: Eyes skitter back behind him where he can still hear the commotion of the fighting -- before flinching harshly when the alarms finally click on; blaring against his senses and causing his breathing to stutter before he's looking back to Blake and James. It seemed apparent that Erica and the others - of Satomi's group - were acting as a distraction and the people at the facility didn't even seem to bother to check if anyone left out the front. "Take Shilo, you and James leave -" he whispered back to her ; keeping himself close to their small group.

Blake: Blake paused a moment at his words, not wanting to leave him for the life of her, but she knew it was best - they wouldn't be watching her go off if he distracted them and then she could get him out of there. She tucked her gun away, tenderly taking the girl from his arms and giving him a look that screamed I will get you out of here before she was motioning to James and running off into the tree line with him.

Marco: "I'll be fine," he whispers under his breath when he hands Shilo off gently; trusting the Blake would get his sister to safety.

Blake: Once safely inside the tree line, Blake grabs her radio from her pocket while James helps hold Shilo - "Pariah, we need backup - reporters or something on Metztli. We need a distraction to get him out of there."

Marco: His gaze is flickering once more to the door that was still wide open -- and he seems to be approaching the reporters. "Reporters?" Stuart is responding quickly back over the radio. There is a moment of silence before he was likely speaking with Allison -- telling her to watch his back. "Circling back -- I'll get them off of him."

Blake: Blake stood by with her breath held as she watched and waited with anxiety for Stuart to get the reporters off of Marco - to get him back into the safety of the shadows.

[soriseerakyra]

Nice to Meet You -8-

Bruce was a wall you determined. His eyes didn’t change nor did his body tense at your statement. However, your suspicions were heightened by the flash in the eyes of the little boy. He tried to be as much of a stone as his father was, but something about him hinted to you that he did not nearly as much control that his father did.

 “Oh?” Bruce says with a raised eyebrow. “Any reason in particular?”

 Awkwardly you motion to a large graffiti bat on the face of a building behind the two males, you’d only just noticed, and that most people wouldn’t have paid attention to. The each take a glance and if you hand less keen senses you wouldn’t have noticed the tension from the young boy’s shoulders.

 “And here I thought you took me to the nicer part of town,” you say taking a drink of water.

 “Well, Gotham is still Gotham after all. The only thing different about this area is how quickly that will be covered up,” He says in response.

 “That is refreshingly observant, for a rich old man.”

 Damian snorts as he scarfs down his food.

 ***

“Oh, here is fine,” you say watching as the car stop at a stop light near the police station.

 “Are you sure?” the driver asks with a raised eyebrow. “I can get you closer, it’s not an issue.”

 “It’s fine,” you say unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’m going to run in from here.”

 He stares at you for a moment but then unlocks the door and drives off after you hop out. In truth, you knew it was dangerous to get out in to middle of the street, but the only place he would have found to park to let you out safely was around the corner in the alley, and that was not a chance that you were willing to take.

 As your foot hits sidewalk, you check your watch and huff as you check the time. It was 5:45 and hopefully you would be able to finish your business here before the sun had set. You probably should have taken Bruce up on his offer to drive you home after you finished lunch. In truth, you hadn’t wanted to end the date so early, but the stern green eyes of his son seemed to stare you down any time the conversation got remotely comfortable. To make matters worse, it felt strange to flirt in front of Damian, you know if you were a kid that you wouldn’t have wanted to see a parent like that.

 Pulling open the heavy GCPD door building you bite your lip as your senses are immediately over loaded with the sound of bustling feet and screams, both from prisoners and police officers. Pulling your jacket closer to your body you start to walk in.

 At the desk, there is a woman with her hair brushed back into a tight bun, fitted nicely under her police cap. She notices your approach and smiles at you with tired brown eyes.

 “How can I help you?”

 “Hi, uh, yes,” you mumble as you reach into the back pocket of your jeans. She waits patiently as you got to pull the card out but must cover her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter when your wallet and phone come flying out of your pocket as well.

 “Sorry,” you mumble throat tight with embarrassment and a flush flaring up on your cheeks. After putting your possessions in their rightful place, you place the card on her desk. “I’m looking for him.”

 Sliding the card from the desk she places on black reading glasses to read the small print,

 “Officer Rick Martinez, hmm, he’s right over there.” She points to a man sitting at one of the smaller desks closer to the back.

 “Is it okay, if I just go back there?”

 “You plannin’ on causin’ trouble?”

 “No,”

 “It’s fine with me,” she finishes and her head is back down, as she hurriedly tries to fill in the paperwork on her own desk.

 You walk through the sea of desks past the officers who either pay you a fleeting glance or ignore you all together.

 “Officer Martinez?” you ask trying to get his attention once you reach his desk.

 The officer startles a little but recognition quick replaces his surprise when he sees you.

 “Oh, hello ma’am,” he starts offering you a seat in in front of his desk. “Is there something you needed to tell me about last night?”

 “A-acutally no, I’m not here about last night,” you start, “I wanted to know if I could file some missing person’s reports.”

 “Some?” He questions, sliding open the cabinet part of his desk, “How many?”

 “Twenty.”

 ***

Barbara almost felt her eyes rollout of her head as her father, Jim Gordon rubbed at his temples trying to sooth a migraine.

 “You need to relax, dad. This stress is going to kill you.”

 The gray-haired man smiled at his daughter and took a sip from the bottle of water in front of him before setting it back down.

 “Stress is part of the job, Barb.”

 “Yes, but I don’t want you to work yourself into an early grave,” Barbara said as she rolled her chair to the side of her father’s desk and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 ‘God knows you aren’t the only one I need to be telling this to’ She thought to herself with a smile.

 Jim opened his mouth to respond but was stopped when the door opened and officer Martinez walked in with a worried glance and a stack of papers.

 “Sorry to interrupt,” Martinez said sheepishly nodding at the red head and her father. “But I got this case that I think you might want to look at.”

 “Let’s see what you have here,” Gordon says with a sigh motioning for the young officer to place the files on his desk.

 Hurriedly Martinez rushes into the office and places the paper work onto the desk and takes a seat in front of his superior’s desk.

 “So, there is this woman last night who got robbed, we think she got saved by the bat or someone because by the time we get there, robbers all tied up waiting for us.”

 The amazement in his tones causes Barbara to smirk a little but it falls quickly as one of her eyes glances at the papers being pushed toward her father.

 ‘Missing Persons?’

 “I give her my card and then she comes down today to file all these reports about missing people. I’m not sure what to do, she’s still out there filling them out.”

 “There are more?” Barbara muses out loud.

 The two males slide their gazes over to her and she smiles sheepishly.

 “At least ten more, ma’am.”

 Gordon flips through the papers, “The same firm?”

 “So far.”

 “Why haven’t we heard about this before?”

 “I don’t know, everyone she’s written down has been out-of-towners so far.”

 With her interest sparked Barbara discreetly pulls a sheet of paper off the desk and examines the sheet.

 ‘Carlisle and Preston, huh?’

 She snaps a quick photo and places it back on the desk.

 “All these people,” Gordon sighs. “Does she look…all there to you? She’s not a UFO or Lizard person conspiracy theorist, is she?”

 Martinez shrugs, “She’s a little fidgety but she seems all there.”

 A knock on the door brings the three out of their conversation and a woman pokes her head in. Her eyes glance at all the occupants of the room and Barbara has to hold back a laugh as she awkwardly shuffles in and too loudly closes the door.

 “Um, I finished all of them, Officer Martinez.”

 Jim examines the woman that entered his office with a raised eyebrow. He tried to catch her eye but every time they made contact she would almost desperately look away from him.

 “Thank you, miss.” Martinez says retrieving the rest of the files from her. “We’ll look into it and call you if we find out anything about your friends.”

 “Oh, they aren-,” she starts but lets the sentence hang in the air. “That would be great thanks.”

 The door closes and Barbara’s gaze follows that woman as she watches her leave the precinct.

 “I think this might be a bit over our paygrade,” Gordon mumbles as the new papers are placed in front of him. “But, this all looks legitimate.”

 “It’s why I didn’t send her away, sir.” Martinez says with a shrug.

 “Hey Dad,” Barbra starts, “I’m going to head home.”

 “Oh,” Jim says looking at his daughter with a tired smile. “Be Careful on your way home and don’t be a stranger.”

 Barbra tosses a hand over her shoulder as she rolls out of his office. Once she’s out in front of the precinct she opens her phone to make a call.

 “Hey, Tim. Do you guys know anything about some missing persons?”

 ***

“You should have let me take the Bike home, some could’ve stolen it by now,” Damian comments looking out the window watching the scenery pass by on the way back to the Manor.

 “Why would I do that?” Bruce asks, irritation filling his tone. “Knowing you there no guarantee that you would come home.”

 “Knowing me we’d have a more complete profile of our suspect,” Damian bites back arms crossed angrily across his chest.

 Bruce quickly cuts his eyes to glance at his son anger before finding them back on the road in front of them, “You cannot be serious.”

 “And you can’t be more oblivious.  How many times have our enemies masqueraded as an innocent, her bringing this case to you could be a ploy to get close to use and break us from the inside.”

 Bruce doesn’t respond, because he knows his youngest son is right, there should be no logical reason for him to even consider letting his guard down a woman that he barely knew. Even if he did like the way that the skin crinkled around her eyes when she smiles, or the way the way that a small smirk would form on her lips when she was teasing.

 “And you noticed it too, didn’t you?” His son questioned as he pulled the car into the driveway of Wayne Manor. “The way she was watching us when she said Batman. She was looking for a reaction, and that's not something someone who was innocent would be looking for.”

 “No, I suppose it’s not,” Bruce said solemnly as he parked the car. “But even if that is the case, people are still missing and she is the only link that we have to them.”

 “That doesn’t mean that you must let your feelings guide your actions, mother wouldn’t.”

 Bruce cut his eyes to his son who was still staring indignantly out of the window and bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something hurtful.

 “Let’s go inside.”

[cannibalisticskittles]

a queen’s desires

pairing: rika/mc (named) notes: rika had better not let anyone know what really brought on the change of heart that saved the would-be crown thief. she’d have to execute anyone who tries to make a quip about “stealing her heart instead.” royalty au for day 5 of rika week for the prompt “aus.” the last one wasn’t particularly gay so this is extra gay. a back-and-forth of trying to out-gay each other.

It’s a well-kept but bitter secret that she doesn’t exactly need to be present for these trials to take place.

Oh, she proclaims the final judgment, and she watches over the proceedings with a stern, queenly eye, but really, the trial could be conducted from start to finish without her. She can’t even truly feel like it’s a display of her power when she has to be here to strike reverence into the nobles or else risk murmurs, a seed of discontent she cannot allow.

The fact that they’ve actually bothered to gather up dusty nobility to witness a trial with an outcome they saw coming the moment the thief was caught in the royal treasury is just… dull. All this pomp and circumstance is enough to bore her to death.

She straightens, making sure to keep her pose statuesque, and thinks with a flash of annoyance that if the thief had just been courteous to just aim for something a little less high-profile than a ceremonial crown, they could have just cut her head off and be done with it before it came time to take her tea.

As it is, this rigidity seems designed to make her suffer rather than the thief – who, as far as Rika can tell, doesn’t even react to the charges, keeping her head bowed but standing tall without even a hint of nervousness to explain it.

The thief’s arms are bound behind her back, and she is flanked by guards, one on either side taking hold of an arm to prevent her from bolting. There’s evidence of some wear and tear in her clothes, enough that Rika can spot it from her throne – though of course, how much came from a scuffle with her guards and how much was present before her arrival, she can’t say. The thief makes a rather pitiful figure, although she would perhaps garner more sympathy from Rika if her stance were out of respect and not out of impudence, as it now seems.

But, at last, they seem to be nearing an end to this drawn-out affair, and it is finally time for her to do her part.

Rika clasps her hands delicately in her lap, a picture of poise and power. “Now, with your crimes laid bare before the crown, have you anything to say for yourself?”

The thief lifts her head at last – and Rika’s pulse stutters.

In the moment that the thief straightens and looks towards the throne at last, Rika sees what she could not before – that she is brilliantly gorgeous.

Even bound and scuffed up as the thief may be, Rika is rendered at a momentary loss.

The thief gives a wide, sheepish grin, tossing her head to push away the sleek, dark hair that’s fallen into her eyes, and gives her response: “Sorry?”

She offers a flippant shrug, or as much of one as she can with her arms held in place. One of the guards pulls pack roughly on her arm, and she wavers slightly, stumbling, and when she catches herself, her eyes narrow with mirth.

“–your majesty.” She adds. Her voice is no more respectful than before, but Rika finds she can’t bring herself to care, not when it is such a sweet-sounding voice, low and smooth and wry.

Rika refolds her hands and steels herself imperceptibly, then says, “…let her come closer. I want to have a look at her.”

The guards on either side of the thief make as if to move with her, but Rika raises a hand. “No. On her own.”

If they find fault in her desires, they are wise enough not to show it, although they do release her with enough force to set her stumbling forward.

She rakes a hand through her hair as she approaches, and Rika can see as she approaches that there’s some nervousness beginning to enter her eyes.

Rika keeps herself calm and still as the thief comes closer, only to stop at the steps. When Rika beckons her closer still, her expression shifts to open shock before she smooths out her features again.

Rika remains silent, letting the thief stew in uncertainty for a few moments as Rika studies her. She’s even lovelier up close – even with obvious suspicion marring her expression, Rika can’t help but notice the how clear and deep her eyes seem, how alive.

“What is your name?” Rika asks, in a voice meant only for the woman. There is a small pleasure in knowing that all else in the room will be straining to hear.

The thief blinks her lovely eyes, as if the question has caught her off guard. “Sun-hwa, your majesty.”

Oh, dear god, Rika can’t execute her, she’d never be able to live with herself; her voice is even sweeter now, without distance to get in the way. Still, Rika tilts her head inquisitively, and asks, “what do you believe will happen to you now?”

The thief – Sun-hwa – winces. “I… suppose I expect to die, your majesty. Though if you feel inclined to mete out a lighter sentence, I wouldn’t object.”

Rika merely gives a slight, indulging smile, and Sun-hwa winces again as her light-hearted comment seems to fall flat. “Hmm. Now, knowing that, why would you ever chase this impossible task?”

“Got offered money for it. Paid me half in advance. I couldn’t turn it down.” Sun-hwa’s tone is matter-of-fact.

“No? And why not?”

“I… owed a debt, your majesty. Paid it off in full with just what I got when I agreed to, ah…” The sheepish look returns. “Rob you blind.”

“And who was it that paid you this… I assume rather exorbitant sum to ‘rob me blind,’ hmm?”

“It’s–” There’s a moment where Sun-hwa hedges, and then she seems to come to a decision. “Fuck it, they can’t get me anyway, now,” she mutters, and then louder: “The Paynes. Of Ashweald. The eldest son, anyway; I never dealt with anyone else. But…” She shrugs.

Rika’s eyebrows raise. “That little backwater province?” Sending a message, perhaps? Attempting to mock her? Interesting. “One more question before I make my final judgment.” Sun-hwa bows her head. “Why didn’t you just run?”

“–pardon?”

“When you got your advance. You didn’t run off with the money. Why? Is it loyalty? Ambition? Overconfidence? Were you really afraid of nobles who can’t even angle for somewhere nicer than marshlands?” Rika rests her chin in her hand as she waits for a response.

“Oh, God no,” Sun-hwa scoffs, and Rika nearly laughs. “I’m pretty sure I could have been clear across the sea before they’d even realized I changed course. But… they might be able to use the weight of their fancy titles to, ah… track down people I’d rather not involve in this. Family, and the like. You know how it goes.”

“And yet, you accepted their offer.”

“Well, I never said I wasn’t also overconfident.” And the self-assured smile decides it for Rika.

“You’ve answered my question. Now, would you like to know a secret?”

Sun-hwa hesitates, then nods. Rika leans a little closer, and Sun-hwa follows. “You did get much closer than any have ever gotten during my rule.”

“Forgive me, your majesty, but I think I’d take more professional pride in that if my head wasn’t about to be on the chopping block.”

Rika does laugh this time. “But it means that you're… useful. And you should be glad of that. You may wish to start considering how you might show your gratitude for being allowed to avoid this fate.” Before Sun-hwa can ask what she means by that, Rika stands and addresses the court.

“I have made my decision. The sentence is…” Rika lets her gaze pass across the court, letting the anticipation build. “…she will live in service of the crown, and right what she has wronged.”

There is no cry of shock, no attempts to stop her, but there is a burst of murmurs. Rika has no scepter to bang decisively against the stone, but the icy stare she levels across the court does the job just as well.

“Listen well,” Rika says. She places a hand on Sun-hwa’s back – goodness, standing really didn’t close the gap in that height difference, and Rika has to reach a little – to urge Sun-hwa forward. They descend the steps together. Rika’s movements are far more graceful than Sun-hwa’s, who wobbles a little without her arms as balance, but with Rika’s hand to steady her, they make it down and stand before the court.

“This girl, this poor girl – you expect her to do this on her own? To plot such an act of treachery by her lonesome? No, this poor girl was used – manipulated by an enemy of the crown. But we will not allow this. She will be allowed to live so that she may atone for her mistakes by rooting out those who would seek to harm us. So long as she is useful to us, we will show her this clemency.”

And, wisely, no one dissents.

Sun-hwa waits at the bottom of the steps until the court is cleared out. She remains flanked by guards until she reaches Rika’s chambers, where a pair of maids await their queen.

“Now,” says Rika as one maid begins to unlace her bodice and the other plucks a nightdress from the bed, “I’m sure there’s much more to be learned about these traitorous nobles you can tell me. And, perhaps, a great deal more about others who have hired you, hmm?”

Rika meets Sun-hwa’s eyes as she steps lightly out of her dress and the maid begins to work on her corset.

Sun-hwa stares resolutely back at her. “A great deal indeed, my queen.”

“And your talents can be put to use in other ways, of course.” She says this as she stands nearly bare before her before she allows the second maid to step forward with the nightdress.

“Most assuredly, my queen.” Sun-hwa’s expression is amused.

“Oh, but don’t worry–” Rika rolls her shoulders as her nightgown settles and her maids step back. She waves a hand, and they bow and depart. “We won’t put you to work at every moment; you will, of course, be allowed generous free reign when we do not have specific need of you. And on that note…” Rika beckons Sun-hwa closer and waves a hand so she’ll turn, then gently undoes the bindings.

“There,” says Rika softly. “Much better.”

Sun-hwa rubs at her wrists and bows her head. “You have my thanks, majesty. Forgive me, but… might I ask how long you intend to keep me? If my usefulness has a limit, I’d like to have an inkling of what that is.”

Rika laughs. “No limit. You’re here, now you’ll stay.”

Sun-hwa folds her arms and cocks her hip. “Pardon?”

“You can be very useful to me, my dear, more than you may think. You seem very talented, and besides…” Rika perches on the edge of her bed, stretching herself out to put her décolletage on display. “I think you’ll enjoy your time here.”

Sun-hwa’s eyebrows raise. “My queen, are you implying something?”

“Rather forward, aren’t you?”

Sun-hwa’s first reaction is to let her arms go slack, her posture straightening as she begins hastily, “I–” And then she halts, taking in the way Rika’s shifting to give her a better view, and the rising alarm drains out of her all at once. “…have been told so, yes, my queen.”

Rika smiles. “Excellent. I suspect you’ll be working… closely with me, and I do so admire those who know how to chase what they want.” She leans forward and crosses her legs, and in the process, loses a silk slipper, which slides across the floor. She tilts her head slightly and aims an innocent look towards Sun-hwa. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all.” Sun-hwa closes the distance and kneels before Rika, looking up at her from beneath her eyelashes. Rika is suddenly aware that although Sun-hwa doesn’t have the advantage of personal tailors to accentuate her figure, she does have some strategic rips that seem oddly alluring on her, and fingers that make Rika shudder with the feeling of electricity when they rest against her skin. “I look forward to showing you what I can do,” she says, fingers skittering slowly up Rika’s calf before pulling away.

Rika’s mouth goes dry. She can hardly wait.

[ayezawa]

Chaotic Neutral Ch.1

Summary: Aizawa Shouta was prepared for many things as a professional hero. However, there one one thing that caught him off guard: Fatherhood.

Crossposted on Ao3

All Aizawa wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. He was exhausted. These past couple weeks had been a nightmare. He was forced to work overtime to catch some new upstart villain, leading to several all-nighters in a row.

Now, new villains popping up weren't uncommon. There were always people who were power-hungry, bored, or desperate, and eventually turned to a life of crime in order to achieve their goals. However, this new villain in particular was a headache.

They called him the sweet killer, because of his boyish features and soft-spoken voice. He would lure children away by seeming hurt and vulnerable. The kids he targeted were easily manipulated by what they saw and soon found themselves in over their heads.

During his short reign, the sweet killer had kidnapped and brutally murdered five children. He was about to kill his sixth victim tonight, before Aizawa finally caught him.

Although Aizawa was satisfied that the killer was put behind bars, he couldn't help but feel frustrated. At the end of the day, there were five casualties. Five precious lives that he couldn’t save. Five innocent, children who had their lives cut way too short and would never live out their dreams. Five heartbroken families who had their trust broken by the heroes.

It was days like this when he hated his profession. Because no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to save everybody.

But...if he had pushed himself a little harder, or was more attentive, or just worked a little faster, maybe, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this.

Aizawa let out a sigh, rubbing his face tiredly, forcing himself to push the negative thoughts aside. Stop it, he thought, there’s no point in blaming yourself. Nothing can be done to change the past, anyways.

He shook his head and turned the corner to his street. Once he reached his house, he would go to bed immediately and get a good night’s sleep. It would be illogical of him to let his past failures impede him from completing his heroic duties efficiently.

Aizawa frowned as he neared his home. From this distance, he could see that the lights were on in the living room. There were several times when he had forgotten to turn the lights off before leaving the house, but today, he had distinctly remembered closing them because his electricity bill was getting a bit too pricey for his salary.  

It was possible that Yamada or Kayama had dropped in unexpectedly, but that was also unlikely, considering that the two of them were aware of how much he hated uninvited guests.

He scowled, deep in thought. Perhaps a villain had broken into his house. It was possible that a random thug had chosen to rob his house by chance, but it could also be something more nefarious. Although Eraserhead was relatively unknown as an underground hero, he still had many powerful enemies. It wasn’t inconceivable for a villain he had crossed in the past to track him down.

Aizawa put his goggles over his eyes, moving behind the house in order to enter into the building stealthily. It was likely he was being paranoid, but it was better being safe than sorry.

He slipped into the back door quietly. He walked into the living room tensely, but he paused when he saw who it was.

"Inko?"

Midoriya Inko glanced up at him, a small, sad smile on her face. "Hello Shouta, it's been a while."

He frowned, narrowing his eyes. The relationship he had with Inko had been short. While the pair of them had genuinely enjoyed each other's company during the time they had been together, their romantic connection had been stagnant. As time went on, the feelings they had initially felt began to dissipate, until finally, around a year ago, the two had decided to have an amicable break-up after it was apparent that their relationship would not ever progress.

Aizawa studied Inko with slight concern. Although the two were cordial around each other, they had not seen the other since the time they parted. After they broke up, they had simply fallen out of contact. As a result, something had to have happen for Inko to go out of her way to visit him, especially this late at night.

"What's wrong?" Aizawa gave her a quick once-over to check for injuries, relaxing slightly when he saw that she was fine.

Inko chuckled, staring at Aizawa with a nostalgic face. "You still haven't changed, Shouta. I remember how you used to always worry that I would get hurt if one of your enemies found out I was dating you." She sighed, "But, I'm not here to reminisce about the past." Her mirth gave way to a more serious expression as she shifted, leaning forward to reveal the small bundle she was hiding.

Inko was holding a tiny baby with a small tuft of curly greenish, blackish hair. He was fast asleep, his small fists gripping the cloth gently as he curled up into his mother's warmth. She looked up, nervous, but determined, "Shouta, meet our child, Aizawa Izuku."

Aizawa froze, staring at the fragile child in her arms. "W-what? He's mine?" Shock gave way to slight betrayal as he stared at Inko with a hurt expression, "Why didn't you tell me? You know I would've-"

"I know. I know that you would’ve done anything to protect us." Inko smiled sadly, "You were always so caring and sweet, but as cliché as it sounds, it wasn’t you, Shouta, it was me. I was only nineteen when I found out I was pregnant." She closed her eyes, “We were only children, and I was so frightened. I couldn’t handle it, and it was immature of me, but I ran. Away from you, away from my family, and most importantly, away from all of my responsibilities.”

Tears filled Inko’s eyes, "I’m sorry, Shouta. So, so sorry.”

Aizawa stared at her helplessly, before moving forward to wrap her into a hug. Inko laid her head on Aizawa’s shoulders, weeping silently. Aizawa glanced down at the child that laid oblivious between them, then at the despair on Inko’s face, and bit his lower lip in an attempt to keep the coiling emotions within him from bursting.

“It’ll be ok, Inko. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you during this. But I’m here now. And you’re here. My...my son’s here too. So everything’s going to be ok now.” He tried to smile, but it came out as an awkward grimace instead, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure everything out.”

Inko let out a watery giggle at Aizawa’s attempt to comfort her, but her expression stayed sad, with a hint of guilt. Aizawa frowned. She must still be feeling guilty about keeping Izuku a secret.

However, before he could say anything, a small gurgle sounded in the room. Inko paused to glanced down at the small bundle in her arms, seeing Izuku begin to stir. Inko looked up, and gave another watery chuckle when she saw the out-of-depth look that Aizawa had on his face. She walked slowly towards him, "Why don't you try holding Izu-kun?"

Aizawa hesitated, staring at Inko, "I don't know how. I'll probably do something wrong. He's so small and I might harm him."

Inko smiled, and placed Izuku into Aizawa's arms gently, "You won't hurt him. He's your son."

Aizawa nodded, trying to ignore the warmth that spread throughout him when he heard the word 'son'. He gazed tenderly at Izuku, rocking him slowly. Awe spread through him as he stared at his child. He was never good around small children, but Izuku didn't seem to have the reservations that other kids had around him. Izuku stared up at him with large, doleful eyes, gripping Aizawa's shirt with his tiny hands and giggling quietly.

A small grin appeared on Aizawa's face. As he gazed down at Izuku, there was no doubt in his mind that he was his son. Izuku had his mother's emerald eyes and button nose, but he had his father's curly hair and angular face.

"Hello Izuku. I guess I'm your father." He crooned softly, hypnotized by the small child, "I'll do my best to protect you and make sure no harm falls upon your head."

Inko placed a hand on Aizawa's shoulder, looking at him knowingly. She smiled gently, "You’re going to be a great father, Shouta."

Aizawa shrugged, “You’ll probably be better than me.”

Inko shook her head, "I can’t-" She cut herself off, changing her words, "That’s not true. Izuku’s incredibly lucky to have someone like you as his father. I’m sure that he’ll grow up to be a splendid young man under your care.”

Aizawa shook his head, “Our care, Inko. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.” He gazed down at his son, smiling softly.

Inko trembled slightly, tears building up in her eyes as she stared at the pair with longing, but she quickly schooled her expression and plastered on a smile before Aizawa could see. "Ah, I was in such a rush to get here, I completely forgot to bring any baby supplies. I have some in my house, so let me go pick it up quickly.”  

Her smile drooped slightly as she looked back at Aizawa. Although her grin wasn’t as vibrant as before, it was more genuine, though tinged with sadness. “While I’m gone, please take care of Izuku, Shouta."

Aizawa stared at Inko, "Of course."

Inko nodded and turned away. Her hands were trembling as she moved away, but she kept them hidden away in her pockets. As Inko started to open the door, she hesitated, and turned to peer back at Aizawa. She gave them one last smile, “Bye Shouta, Izuku. I lo-” She stopped, “I’ll...see you two later.”

Aizawa nodded. “Yes. Goodbye,” he said softly, staring at Inko as she walked out of the house.

He tightened the grip had on Izuku and sat down on the couch. He glanced at the clock, it was 12:00 am on the dot. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to to ignore the irrational tightening in his chest as he watched Inko walk out of the door. Why do I feel like this? She’ll be back soon with the supplies.

Aizawa’s train of thought was broken when Izuku babbled quietly, grabbing his finger with his tiny fists. Aizawa chuckled at the sensation, and rubbed Izuku’s head, “Isn’t that ironic? Because I’m sure that I’m the one who’s wrapped around your little finger, not the other way around.”

Aizawa smiled and rocked Izuku tenderly, his panicking lessening slightly.

That’s right. Everything’s fine. Better than fine. I have a new addition in my life, and an old friend back.

1:30 am

Aizawa frowned, he knew that Inko lived far away, but she should’ve gotten back by now. Considering how late it was, the traffic should’ve been nonexistent. He shrugged, forcing the irrational panic that was building up to calm down. There could’ve been an accident along the way, that forced her to slow down. Or maybe, she forgot something, so she had to stop by a store to buy something.

2:10 am

Where is she? Aizawa pursed his lips worriedly, glancing at the clock. It’s late. She should’ve been here by down. Did she get hurt? Was she jumped? Did she get into a car accident? He shook his head. I’m just overreacting again. She should be back soon. If she’s not back in fifteen minutes, I’ll just call her.

2:25 am

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“We’re sorry. The phone number you entered is not in our database. If you need medical help, please dial the emergency number. If you need to look up a number in our directory, please click one to be connected to our phone operator. If you-”

Aizawa hung up his phone. When did Inko change her phone number? But, that wasn’t important at the moment. He hugged Izuku. Please get back soon, Inko.

3:07 am

Aizawa bit his lower lip as he glanced at the time. It’s late…

He stared down at Izuku and stroked his hair gently. He frowned as Izuku gurgled and smacked his small arms against Aizawa’s chest. He’s starting to make a fuss. I don’t know what to do.    

Aizawa stood up and started to rock Izuku gently as the the little one began to tear up. “Please don’t cry, Izuku. You’ll make me feel bad if you do.” He winced, as Izuku began to wail. It was as deafeningly loud and annoying like other babies, but instead of feeling irritated like he usually was, he felt agitated and distressed.

He wanted Izuku to stop crying. He wanted to do his job as a father competently, and comfort his son. Aizawa’s lower lip trembled slightly as he continued to rock Izuku futilely, “I’m sorry, Izuku. I’m sorry, I wish I could help you, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to fix.”

Aizawa stopped when Izuku’s cries ceased. Izuku stared up at his father with watery eyes and patted Aizawa’s arm gently. Aizawa held Izuku closely, and ducked his head, “How pathetic...you had to comfort me instead. I’m sorry, Inko would’ve been much better at this.”  

4:30 am

At this point, Izuku had fallen back asleep. Aizawa sat on the couch, gazing at the door with dull eyes.

She’s...not coming back.

He frowned and hugged Izuku close to him. Why...that’s unfair. Unfair to me, and especially to Izuku. At the very least, you didn’t have to lie to me. You didn’t have to give me false hope, and then stand me up. We...I deserve better than this.

Why?

Aizawa cradled Izuku gently, his features downcast. His arms quivered slightly as he kept his gaze steadfast on the door. Don’t cry. He felt his eyes fill up with tears and he clenched his fists. Don’t cry. He closed his eyes and raised a trembling hand to cover his face. Don’t… Tears streaked down his face and he bit his lower lip in an attempt to hold in a sob. ...cry.  

Aizawa took in a shuddering breath as he sat there with his son held in his arms. Stop it. It’s not about you right now. Think about Izuku and everything he’ll need.

He took a minute to calm himself, before he dialed a number. “Nemuri? Are you busy right now?”

Chapter 2

[obstinatewit]

~”I Know If I Stepped Aside, Released the Controls, You Would Open My Eyes”~

{https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNUR0fOMpCs}

~~

“вытащить его оттуда! убить выжившего.”

(“Get him out of there! Kill the survivor.”)

There had been a jolt of pain as a knife cut through skin like butter, and the weapon could feel a light streak running along one cheek, hazel orbs dark and dangerously astute as they took in each movement the target being dragged to his death made. Sounds of screamed protests filled the air and reverberated from one wall to another, falling onto ears that were suddenly cold and uninterested. The trilling of a voice cutting through the echo radiating in the air and footfalls fast approaching made uninterested ears suddenly perk in interest, and dark oculars went from watching as yet another target took their last breath to locking onto the owner of the voice that had called out. A slight tilt of the head told the one speaking that attention was being paid and words were being considered, but no words were spoken in response; a swift and subtle nod showed acknowledgment.

“ты в порядке?”

(“Are you okay?”)

Another short nod showed that the words were acknowledged, and the injury was not fretted in the least, not by the weapon by any means, at least. A hand reached up and the tip of a finger ran along alabaster skin, a slight zap radiating from the top of the head and down along the spine, and the finger pulled away in pure reflex, taking with it a deep red at the tip of an unfaltering finger. An angry red gash had made its home on an otherwise unscathed face, and yet the one whose face it occupied was unperturbed by its presence. The only other voice that was there to fill the airwaves seemed to be more disturbed by the sudden presence of an unwelcome injury than the weapon was, and that was a sight that had never been seen before.

“Это не может повториться. Вы не можете быть ранены. Это будет нам дорого сто��ть.”

(“This can not happen again. You can not be injured. It will cost us dearly.”)

A shrug of a left shoulder indicated a response, and hazel hues focused on a frantic figure before their foreboding gaze flicked over to the wall, focusing on nothing in particular as a strong voice filled the air in the room. There was no indication of pain given, nor did the tone waver for even a nanosecond and strong and sure words filled the atmosphere of the room.

“это просто царапина. Не суетитесь из-за этого.”

(“It's just a scratch. Don't fuss over this.”)

Behind spoken words was a shadow of a doubt and a hint of resentment, which didn't fall onto unknowing ears as they filled the air. That sense of doubt had been lingering in the air between the asset and the masters for an uncertain amount of time, and that again did not go unnoticed. Faltering loyalties weren't by any means taken lightly, and nor were they tolerated, which was not a fact that was unknown to the weapon, poised and always at the ready. The sudden presence of a hand didn't go unnoticed by dark hazel hues, and the object in the hand didn't fail to hold their attention. It wasn't a welcomed sight, and annoyance filled dark oculars as they flitted from the mask being held out to unwilling hands to eyes that were almost equally as foreboding.

“Мы рассчитываем на вас. нам нужно, чтобы ты носил это.”

(“We count on you. We need you to wear this.”)

“Все из-за одной царапины? Это выглядит как морда.”

(“All because of one scratch? It looks like a muzzle.”)

Discomfort radiated like a static shock right below a dangerously narrowed hazel ocular, and the cold contrast of solid plastic gliding along skin was a questionable and  undesired combination. Words failed to fall from the weapon's lips, and breaths were shallower as a result of the thick material and plastic covering dry lips. The thought that it wasn't just being used as a means of protection worked its way through a dark and jumbled mind, and hazel hues flitted from the target that was groaning out in pain on the ground and went to the one holding the reins, the “master”. The sight of the weapon on a leash seemed to appeal to the steely eyed ring leader, a telling grin tugged at sinister lips as eyes focused on the silenced weapon, unable to speak due to reins having been tightened and a “muzzle” having been put in place. The significance of spoken words was questioned and lost to the weapon standing in the middle of the”ring”, feet rooted to their original spot as flecks of blood splattered to the concrete below foot. Hands coated in the blood of fearful targets hanging down heavily, bones aching and frayed as waves of exhaustion rise and fall like the tide of an undisturbed ocean.

Loyalties continued to fall into question, and as a consequence, the object of their questioning was effectively silenced. Much like a lion in a cage that was much too small and confining, the weapon's inner conscience tried to work its way to the surface and get out again, but the murky waters of thoughts and feelings that were stomped down and hidden made it difficult to see the light that shone in the horizon. In a ledger that was lined with victories, there wasn't room for any kind of doubt or question, and nor was faltering an option. Heavy steps filled the air as boots moved on pavement to start toward the next given objective, hazel hues looking toward the horizon with chagrin and wrath. The absence of words seemed to make the oculars even more sinister and dangerous, and responses to that were etched in the eyes of the next targets of the weapon's unbridled fury and rage.

Exhaustion was blocked out of a mind clouded with wrath and set off to the sidelines, and fists collided with bone, cracks echoed through the atmosphere, and blood was spilled in abhorrent amounts while no apology was given. Mangled figures writhed on the ground beneath unwavering hazel orbs, and victory was once again the road that the weapon had taken. Heavy footfalls once again filled the air as the weapon, yet again, walked away from a victory. The confines of the tightened reins were only loosened when an order was given, and the weapon was still being heavily restrained. The heavy feeling of exhaustion once again ripped through bone and flesh alike, and legs as heavy as lead carried the full weight of a lethal weapon away from his last assignment of the day. Otherwise dark and brooding oculars showed signs of fatigue, but he kept them open as he made his way back to the rendezvous point he had been told to meet them at, a strong surge of pain going through him as a voice he had been longing for called out to him from the distance.

“истребитель! Истребитель, Подождите!”

(“Fighter! Fighter, wait!”)

Hazel eyes filled with longing, desperation, and exhaustion snapped open as if by instinct at the sound of her voice, and hesitation filled every fiber of his being as her steps behind him began to get closer. Footfalls from below slowed until they finally stopped, and battle worn ears listened as the sound of footfalls quickly approached from behind, no sign of objection or resistance given as skin suddenly made contact with skin, sending an electric shock to every nerve ending in the entirety of his being. No move was made to brush her hand off of his forearm, no effort was made to keep a distance between them, nothing but a look of exhaustion and anguish were present in his eyes as she finally entered his line of sight. It was only when she reached a hand out to touch the mask that covered the lower portion of his face that any movement was made in protest, but he didn't go far and it didn't take long for her to gather that he had to leave the horrid thing on his face where it was. There hadn't been an order given for him to remove it, so it had to stay right in its place, right where it was gliding against the still angry gash that was etched across his left cheek.

“Мне жаль. Я оставлю это.”

(“I'm sorry. I will leave it.”)

The only words that had hit his ears all day that he actually believed, and he was like a wild animal that had been tamed but still needed restraints. Gentle hands reached out to him again, then stopped halfway between her and their destination, and he leaned his head down toward her just far enough to give an indication of understanding and trust. She was looking for contact, the look in her hypnotic chocolate brown oculars spoke volumes to what little was left of his soul in that regard, and he responded back by showing her that it was okay. Soft, angelic hands rested on either side of a face etched with darkness and exhaustion, and sent a warmth radiating through every fiber and down to the core of his being, and once dangerous hazel eyes lightened and then slowly slid closed. There was no movement of hands reaching out to touch her, that would have made ensuring that what needed to be done in order to be sure that she could go on to live a life without him impossible, and no part of him wanted to rob her of every right she had to be safe. Safety with him was not possible, but at that moment, reassurance that the whole of the world wasn't dark and unforgiving was a much needed breath of fresh air.

Rose petal lips pressing against a thick plastic barrier was perceived by a mind that had gone from being shrouded in darkness to being dusted over with feelings of light and hope, and hazel eyes just opened fast enough to catch an angelic face moving back a fraction of an inch. The path of resistance was a difficult one to have to choose, but he had to stay on that path for her safety, for her well-being. Willingness to continue to let her grip remain didn't wane, and hazel hues slipped closed again as the angelic face once again moved in, and warmth spread through every inch of his skin as her forehead rested peacefully against his. There was still no made move to touch her any more than what had already been done, and a feigned hope that it would make parting ways from her easier lingered in the backdrop of a dazed mind and a frayed heart. Graceful fingers ran through locks tousled from a strenuous day fraught with fights waiting for him, and heavy shoulders shrugged with a tired sigh as relaxation reached every muscle in his body.

“Я просто хотел увидеть тебя еще раз. еще раз.”

(“I just wanted to see you again. Once more.”)

Her soft voice lilted as she spoke, her gentle breath hitting his face as the words moved past her soft lips. A faint hammering fell into keen ears as his heart picked up its pace, racing against the inside of his chest like it was going to burst out from between his ribs at any moment. The absence of her skin sent a painful jolt through his heart as he finally forced himself to move out of her grasp, but if he didn't move, he knew that he never would have, and a foggy mind commanded fatigued legs to carry him toward the rendezvous point he was supposed to be at by that time. Words weren't an option, even if he had wanted them to be, so he simply had to carry himself away from the last source of light and comfort he had in a dark and unforgiving world that saw him as nothing more than a weapon.

Darkness once again filled hazel oculars as steady steps could be heard being taken on scalding concrete, resentment weighing down his chest like a ship's anchor. There had to be a way out, even if it hadn't yet come into view, some way for him to finally rid himself of the heavy burden that the life he was forced to lead put on his shoulders. There had to be something, somewhere, and that echoed through his battle worn mind as he made his way back to the source of his resentment, the ones he was bound and determined to find an escape from.