#and i’m very curious why the gander should be in pain

[polarsirens]

Your never after art is so good! I adored your recent Gerard, it made me feel a lot! If this isn’t too rude, could you do a father goose one?

thank you for the compliment & the clarification ☺️ can’t say i’ll be able to answer every request ask, but you, my friend, are in luck because i did have this timothy doodle i didn’t post yet!

[miracle-sham]

Yet So Poison Entwined We Fracture.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Saturday Challenge 1: Hurt No Comfort} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| It all went wrong so quickly. Marinette thought she could trust Jason, that he'd never betray her. And Jason thought the same. But with a truth-serum turned poison seeping through their veins, neither had thought to look for the purple feathers. |

| Word Count: 1,706. |

———

| A/N: I'll try and keep this short and sweet but it's nice to dip back into writing for Maribat, I really missed it whilst I was gone. Also I've now got a author's channel in MGI where I sometimes put title sneak peaks, snippets, and random au ramblings, so y'know feel free to pop into the channel and have a gander if you'd fancy! And one last thing, keen eyes may have noticed I've added a Spotify Playlist Link, it contains all the songs I listened to when working on this oneshot, if you're curious! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Marinette staggers back, clutching at her bloodied side as the world spins for a moment and everything blurs. Breath catches in her throat as a sharp pang of betrayal pierces her heart, tears springing to the corners of her eyes unbidden. Whimpering, she barely manages to cry out, “J–Jason?”

Heartbreak coating his name like the truth serum-poison making its way through her system at this very moment.

She makes an awful choking noise and collapses to her knees, scrunching her face up and wheezing. Barely is she able to keep her eyes open, fixated on staring at someone she thought she could trust.

Smirking lazily, Jason saunters up to her, crouches and then grabs her face by the chin, forcing her to tilt her head up to continue staring at him in the eyes. “Aw, did you really fucking think I cared about you this entire time?”

Marinette swallows thickly—unable to conjure up a response to him. Black spots start to form in the corner of her vision like watching a spattering of embers burning away on a piece of paper.

He tilts his head to the side and snorts, “really? Nothing to say, no heartfelt "I trusted you!" or "you're lying!". Not even a "I know the real you is still in there?", how fucking pathetic.”

There's a small part of her brain that starts flashing red lights and wailing alarms—warning her that she's in danger, that she's hurt, that she's stopped breathing. She can't breathe, can't move, can't say anything or she'll spill all her remaining secrets.

Jason sighs and drops her chin. “And here I fucking thought your shitty-ass reaction to me betraying you would be more fun.”

Grimacing, she waits a heartbeat after he lets go before mustering all her strength to slam her skull into his—if I'm going down, you're coming with me for this, Marinette mentally vows.

There's a horrendous thwacking sound as the impact lands, and Marinette feels as though her brain has turned into a blender that just had its blades snap mid blend.

Jason, on the other hand, flings himself backwards and curses up a storm. He pulls out one of his guns and with dizzying vision, manages to shoot a bullet that just clips the uninjured side of her ribs. “That's what you fucking get for that you bitch!”

Marinette doubles over as the pain seems to ricochet through her; vision blacking out completely. She struggles for breath, her hearing cutting off not a second later. Objectively, she's aware she's not alone. But as her senses shut down one by one, leaving her helplessly trapped in her own mind, she can't help but wonder why her heart aches with loneliness. I'm sorry, she silently apologises to no one and everyone.

Distantly, she thinks she's swaying—or collapsing again maybe. But it's hard to tell, it's disorientating trying to focus on the world with dying senses.

Marinette is lost. Every little movement, every little thought—it's agony, a struggle to keep going, keep holding on. Once more, she silently pleas for forgiveness from the kwami.

She stops.

Stops breathing. Heart stops beating. Stops fighting. It all stops.

At least this way, she thinks to herself, I can't spill any secrets from the truth serum-poison if I carry them to the grave instead…

She sinks into the darkness, clinging to her final thought in numb relief as she does so. Everything fades away.

———

Jason groans as the knife Marinette is wielding digs deeper between his ribs.

She doesn't move back immediately, so he grits his teeth and roundhouse kicks at her—the heavy thump of collision makes his wound burn like acid has just been poured on it.

He's a few seconds too slow pulling his leg back, as Marinette slices the knife through his calf.

“Fuck!” He bites out, throwing himself further out of her range and breathing. “Marinette!”

With the gall to smile faux-innocently, she plays with the knife in her hand, slipping it between her fingers and swirling it about. “Yes, Jason?”

“The fuck are you doing!?” He growls, shifting his position when she doesn't move to apply pressure to the calf wound.

She shrugs, seemingly unbothered, “what? Did you really think this wouldn't happen one day? That I wouldn't get sick of you. Show you just how much you've hurt me the entire time we've known each other?”

Jason spits blood from his mouth at the warehouse floor in front of her. “I don't believe whatever shit you're being made to spew, but I sure as fucking hell know that you'd never do something as fucked up as this.”

“Oh, that's cute! You still believe in me. What's next, are you going to beg me to come to my senses? Are you going to cry my name and hope it changes my mind? Are you going to declare that the "real" me is still there inside and that you're going to save me?” Marinette giggles, high-pitched and yet hollow sounding.

Jason flinches at the sound, breathing stuttering as the poison from her knife starts to really seep in. Shit, he thinks to himself, truth serum-poison. If I'm not careful I'm gonna say shit that should stay secret.

A flash of silver catches the edge of his vision. And it's all the warning he gets. He immediately ducks and rolls, cursing under his breath as his wounds are aggravated. The air by his hair swooshes as the blade just narrowly misses.

Marinette giggles taper off into a hiss of fury. Her hair slips out of her pigtails from the constant movement, and multiple strands fall in front of her face. She huffs, ineffectively blowing them out of the way. “Did you really think I ever loved you?”

“Yes!” The words are choked out of his mouth before he can even think, the truth serum-poison kicking in hard and fast. Jason wheezes and the taste of iron lingers like malice in his throat. Fuck, he thinks desperately, I'm running out of time and Marinette isn't snapping out of whatever the fuck's been done to her.

He stumbles into another roll, as the blade comes swinging at him again. His vision blurts violently, and the next thing Jason knows—is that his view has suddenly tipped upside down and that there's a throbbing ache radiating from the back of his shoulders and head.

“Huh, you really do have a thick skull. Normally that'd be enough to knock anyone else out. Well, I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Marinette rambles, pulling out a rag.

Jason grunts as he pushes himself only to be slammed back into the concrete warehouse floor, rag pressed firmly over his mouth and nose.

He thrashes and refuses to inhale. Marinette scowls and kicks him sharply into the ribs, causing him to gasp through gritted teeth. But it's enough to affect him.

His vision teeters then flickers to black, he can feel his movements slowing—becoming more and more sluggish until he's as still as he was in that fucking coffin he's had to crawl out of once before. At least, he barely manages to cling to the final thought, I can't spill any secrets if I carry them to the grave once more.

And then it all fades away.

———

Lila steeples her finger and smirks. She's sitting in her plain white office for the Agreste, three monitors set up before her on the desk. The middle screen shows her emails and a few tabs up on fashion for work-related reasons. The outer two screens, however, show the feed to two identical cells—two by four by five metres with cement floors and grey brick walls, no windows and a single plain black metal door. No furniture either, not even beds or toilets, just chains attached to the wall opposite the door. And in the chains is what has Lila so very happy indeed; Marinette and Jason, one in each cell and both stuck in the chains with no hope for escape.

A steady pool of blood has already formed beneath the both of them, thanks to the wonderful work of her Sentimonster duplicates of the two.

Lila can't help but monologue in her glee, “It's so excellently simple really. Even if one escapes, there's no way they'll help the other escape now. Now they've experienced the pain of betrayal and torture inflicted by the other!”

Footsteps approach the door to her office; all it takes is a quick click and click of the mouse and her two outer screen feeds flip to showing more work-related tabs and emails.

The door opens to reveal Adrien, slightly dishevelled—hair and shirt ruffled, eyes red with dark bags beneath them, and shiny tear streaks down his cheeks—he stands in the threshold, shaking. “Did you know?”

Lila smiles in fake confusion. “Know what?”

Adrien swallows, gaze flickering to her screens. “Marinette's dead. So is Jason.”

Lila tilts her head to the side to make it look as though she's thinking. “The Wayne boy that was close to her, right? Oh dear.”

His tired gaze turns back to Lila as he continues. “They think both of them were kidnapped and tortured separately. Police have found traces of an altered truth-serum among the bloodstains and…” He chokes for a second, grief plain as day across his face. “and they found pieces of fingers, ears, slices of skin, and all.”

“Oh, oh, that's horrible!” Lila gasps, covering her mouth with her hands to hide the victorious curl forming on her lips. “Have they found out who was cruel enough to do that to them yet?”

Adrien shakes his head silently.

“Hopefully, the culprit will be found soon. But if you need any support, I'll always be here for you, Adrien!” Lila gravely announces, bobbing her head slightly as she spoke.

He narrows his eyes at her, shakes his head, and then stalks away from her office.

She scowls as soon as his back turns and gets up to shut her door. “Well,” She says to herself as she flips back to the cell feed, “at least that means I'll have plenty of time to pull the secrets from you two without the police thinking to look for you alive.”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this oneshot, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[bubblyani]

Bail Out : 01

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 01: The Bruiser

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love. 

Word Count: 4700

Rating: Mature

Warning: Swearing and Hints of Blood and Violence

Author’s Note: Initially wanted to write a One Shot, but had more ideas to possibly expand. And thanks to @kittenlittle24​ ‘s encouragement, I was confident to continue this as a Series. This was soo much fun to imagine and write. It really was. Will do my best to make this a series you all can love. Enjoy!

Gotham City, never was it a fanatic of resting, especially when it came to crime. “Anyone out for a coffee run?” 


Thus, it was suffice to say the Law Enforcement of the City was never privileged with the gift of resting either. Even during the wee hours of the morning. Crime was detained, ranging from the highest risk to the mundane. Regardless, they were all crimes. 
 “...Anyone?”
 Officer John Blake of Gotham Police repeated his inquiry, scanning the other officers in the precinct. Buzzing like bees, all seemed quite occupied in their own matters. 
 “I’ll do it…” Officer Nina Langdon got up from her desk, answering with a smile. The way her pupils dilated, her secret attraction for the other young officer was quite evident. 
 Finally catching a whiff of enthusiasm, John’s eyes glinted with a hint of sincere gratitude. Standing next to him, Langdon began her query at everyone: “How about a new place today?”

The buzz, it continued. No one really seemed to bother with an answer.

“Try Commons Cafe! They have great coffee for an affordable price!”

Suddenly the buzz seemed nonexistent, when everyone’s heads indiscriminately turned upon hearing a voice. A female voice which was unfamiliar, yet professional. And to their surprise, it was traced all the way back to the nearest holding cell.

Taking a gander at their expression, the owner of that voice seemed unaffected. 
“You’re welcome…” She added coolly, returning her gaze back to the wall before her. Highly amused, Officer Blake chuckled. Deeply curious, Officer Langdon leaned over to Blake.
 “What is she in for?” She asked in a low voice. “Assault…” John answered, opening the file that rested on his neatly arranged desk. His answer certainly made the red headed officer raise her eyebrows. 
“Anything serious?” She was certainly inquisitive. He shook his head. 
“Nah…” he replied,  “Just a rough night, I guess” he added, turning back to the woman sitting in the cell.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was never intentional, but you just could not help overhear their discussion. And Officer Blake was right: Last night was indeed a very rough night. 


Trying to catch a wink of sleep in the cell seemed impossible for you. For you were not at comfort. Let there be no misunderstanding, for the environment was not to blame at all. You scoffed to yourself.You were no princess, seeking any luxury. It was just that your damned humbleness got in the way with the most mediocre excuses. Like, your tight skirt riding up every time you made an attempt to lie down, for instance. You did not want to make a scene by showing any unwanted skin.

That’s right. That damned humbleness.

And the throbbing pain in your right hand did not seem to help either.

Yes, your right hand with your knuckles, all bruised and bloody.

Sleep deprived, and slightly wounded, your body was in a state of confusion. You literally felt your eye lids grow heavy, as if your eyelashes held on to weighty dumbbells in the gym, and they kept doing down. Squinting your eyes, you made your most dire attempt to stay awake. You resorted to methods a many. Pinching your own cheeks, slapping them with no shame. All until you were sober once more. You sat there, with your legs bouncing about as you stared at the wall. 


Every other corner in the station seemed to have a dose of color. Even it was dull or depressing. The wall on the other hand, was white, was empty.
 Thus, it was no surprise that you picked up a brush, and proceeded to paint out the scene over that white wall of your mind.The scene that haunted you on a constant loop, all throughout the night. 


For everything was ever so clear.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Last night)


With single stroke of your mind brush, the white canvas of the wall altered into the surroundings of a luxurious hotel.


A jazz melody, simple yet effective. It lingered in the piano keys, amplifying its effect on to every living being in the area. The musical sounds infused with the subtle shushes of the small water fountain placed in the midst of the restaurant. Occupants of class and formal attire were of abundance, out to play on a Friday night. 


And in the bar lounge in the corner, there was you, sitting on one of the barstools with your phone pressed against your ear. It was no call, as you listened to a voice message. The manner in which your eyes were closed, in which your temples had tightened, it was evident to any observer that you were listening to what you dreaded.

“Sorry sweetie!” The voice of Allison, your roommate flowed into your ear: “ I forgot that Mattie was having a Birthday bash for his friend, so I promised to help out with the party blah blah blah...you know the deal…But anyways, I can’t make it for drinks tonight. I’m so so sorry, roomie! Please enjoy yourself! And hey! who knows! Maybe you’ll get to work on ya flirtin’ tonight. Sorry again…Bye!” 
 As the message ended, a scoff was all you could let out. “Trust me…” You muttered to yourself, looking at the phone, “Flirtin’s the last thing on my mind tonight”.

With one hand lifted up, you turned your gaze over to the bartender nearby. Your empty cocktail glass appearing so lonely beside you.  

“Whiskey, please” You requested, lips forming a sad smile.Taking the glass away, bartender nodded with a hint of concern. 


You sighed heavily, before taking a sip from your glass. Work had certainly drained you. It drained you like an insect being drained lifeless by a spider. With eyebrows raised, you slightly shook your head at yourself. That was an inaccurate comparison for that may not be an exact fact. Yet, it was how you felt: Drained lifeless. And here you presumed blowing off steam with your roommate would help you cheer up. But truthfully, that was not the case. It was not what you wanted in the end of the day. Drowning one’s exhaustion in a splash dip of alcohol seemed apt. At least, you’ll drop dead on your bed without hesitation. You will sleep faster. And waste the weekend away. 


As the effect of the hard liquor began to spread all over your system, you felt compelled to take off your high ponytail. You were desired by your own conscience to let your natural tresses rest easy on your head. 


“Oh! Save me the High Road Bullshit! You’re just like the rest of them SCUM!”

A voice, quite enraged reached out to your ears from afar. It cut through all the superficial chatter a few feet in between. Given the tone, You involuntary rolled your eyes.

“Someone’s not having the best day, huh?” You said to the bartender. “Yeah…looks like it” the man replied, whilst wiping the table. Sipping the whiskey, you resumed in indulging on the burning sensation you felt on your tongue.

Yet, regardless of your attempt to steer your ears away, the awkwardness could not be avoided. Especially when someone had the decency to have a tantrum on these marbled floors.
 “Name one good thing Wayne Enterprises have ever done to the people of Gotham.Can anyone name ONE THING? I DON’T THINK SO…”

Now, you had to look up. Why on earth would he say something of the sort? Head unturned yet up, you paid close attention to the voice from the distance. Glancing upon the bartender’s expression, it was certain your face did not look happy at all. What was the other’s reply? You longed to hear it.But it was too soft. 
 “That’s right! It’s nothing but a HEARTLESS company with HEARTLESS people in it” Your eyebrows furrowed, tightly. This person certainly had the nerve. As much as this slowly turned your stomach, you silently convinced yourself it was not your place to interfere, nor to even be affected. 
“You know what?” The man continued loudly, “It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

A loud thud! erupted from your fists as they landed on the table with such force. So much so, even the bartender clutched on to his wiping cloth with fear. “That’s it…” You muttered through gritted teeth. Gulping down the rest of your whiskey, you decided this was definitely your place to be affected. 
 “Yes! That’s right.” The man began to mock, “Thomas, Martha....and little Bruce Way-”
 “YOU!” Silence suddenly fell over the entire floor by the power of your voice. Even the piano stopped. Turning from your barstool, You heard yourself bellow: “You Take that BACK!!!”

Fueled with rage, you knew it was definitely your place to interfere.

Sliding off the stool, you quickly spotted him. The middle aged man was quite easy to make out by the fountain, due to his dramatic expression of embarrassment. All eyes were on you as your heels clicked sharply walking over to him in speed. He was the only one you could spot among the two conversing parties, and that was enough for you. Frankly you did not care. Though you were at your fullest rage, weaponized with clenched fists, the man looked at you with mere inferiority.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

You yelled, pointing your index finger at him. The man laughed mockingly, which amplified heavily with all the dense fog of silence.

“Why?” He asked, “What are you gonna do?” He jeered, “Threaten m-OW!”

Gasps exited everyone’s lips in unison. Right when you cut him off with your right fist landing hard on his face. The punch was far from skilled, yet it managed to spill some blood, it was difficult to trace its origin. You felt pain, that was for sure. 
 “You take that back! I mean it” You spat out those words, which were akin to fire. Eyes squinting, the man scrunched up his bloody nose. 
 “Wha-? OWW!!”

This time it was your right knee that made an appearance. Greeting his nose violently with a kick, your knee brought out a popping sound, causing the others to gasp and scream in fear.

“ARGH! MY NOSE!” He cried out with agony. 
 “SECURITY!” 
The cries of the Floor Manager finally brought you to the realization of the surprising consequences of your pure rage. Lifting your hands up quickly with a sigh, you surrendered yourself as the security staff surrounded you. The bystanders watched you with disbelief. Some with mixed emotions, while others purely had taken a side in this altercation. The Security found it strange when you voluntarily placed the hands behind your back for their convenience. For you were no fool. You were screwed.

“Gentleman! Gentleman! Let’s take it easy on the lady, shall we?”

A voice so smooth and undeniably familiar tickled your ears. Turning back, you gasped. For you finally laid eyes on the other party. The man who was insulted. The man you involuntarily fought for:

Bruce Wayne, in the flesh. 
 With a tall, beautiful blonde woman wrapped around him, he was as powerful as he could be. Besides, the beautiful couple exuded pure regality. And that was when you felt completely underdressed. Why wouldn’t you be? Your silk shirt, tucked in your high waisted skirt paired with a jacket made you look so meager. While the blonde woman gave you a nasty look, Wayne seemed quite concerned in contrast. Embarrassment finally came over you when you were aware of the fact he just witnessed your rage. And how he was witnessing your messy state, which included the literal blood and sweat and disheveled hair. 
“I’m truly sorry, Mr.Wayne” The manager said, “…but our restaurant doesn’t tolerate violence” You were so tempted to scoff. And you did, out loud. “Wow! wow!” You cried out with irony, turning to the manager in your handcuffs, “So violence is not tolerated, but verbal abuse is?…” you inquired, motioning to the deserving bleeding man, “Unbelievable!”

“Security! Please escort her out!” The manager was certainly not pleased with your behavior nor your tone. 
“YES! Get that woman out of here!” The rude man cried out, still covering his nose, “I’ll do you one better…I’m…I’m calling the police” he said, taking his phone out from his pocket.

You shook your head with disappointment, still feeling the alcohol linger in you as you were easily pushed out of the premises. Averting your eyes, you were relieved to leave. For you did not want to be in the midst of everyone’s judgment, most certainly his.

You heard the soothing words of the management comfort the customers in muffled tone as your footsteps got closer to the exit.

“What the hell happened, miss?” The big, tall security officer inquired with genuine curiosity. As if he felt guilty of apprehending you, “Why would you get so riled up about Wayne Enterprises anyways ?”
 Sighing heavily, you looked over to him.

“It’s because I work there...” 


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Present)


Completing the imaginary painting for the 20th time, you finally looked down. The right side of your skirt was stained with dried up blood. Your knuckles shared the resemblance, except there were cuts as an addition. And holy hell! The stinging was unbearable. You were no fighter. You just experimented fighting in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

Rubbing the top of your nose bridge with your fingers, you sighed. So many sighs today. “Why…why did I do that?” You muttered to yourself. You were never the troublemaker, nor the violent one, so why now? You hoped your convincing voice message would lead to your roommate getting you out. But the way you were ditched tonight, there was no possibility. It seemed quite apt you were to be left there to rot, to regret your actions.

But never did you think you were actually fighting on behalf of Bruce Wayne himself. What were the chances?

The jingle of keys grew prominently louder, amidst the chatter of policemen and civilians. You looked up to see Officer Blake in front of your cell. “Good News…” He said, “Looks like you’ve been granted bail”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. How was it possible? You were only given one phone call. Standing up in an instant, you held on to the bars with your left hand dramatically. “R-Really?” You babbled, “But who?”

The young officer smiled softly. “Best if you see it for yourself” he said, opening the door, “He is waiting outside” 
“H-He?”   You swore you breathed in literal fear, forgetting to even step out.

As you went through the formalities, you could not help but wonder. Could it be that wretched man you injured, had come to rub his power all over your face? Were you to be eternally grateful to him? Feeling sick to your stomach once again, you took slow steps towards the exit, unwilling to see the light of dawn.
 “Ahh! Shit…” You cursed under your breath upon the first glance. It was not that wretched man. It was someone even worse. It was Bruce Wayne.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over at Blake. “Officer…” you began, “Do you have a mint by any chance?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Nothing would strike you as strange more than the fact you saw Billionaire Playboy Bruce Wayne standing outside of a Police Station at around 6:30 am. And to bail you out nonetheless. Why? Was it something you should be worried about? You did not know.

For a second, you could not help but stare, especially when he was not aware of your eyes on him. He may have been wearing the same outfit as last night, yet he looked so different. With his tie loosened, hair a tad bit messy and out of sorts, he dipped his hands in his pockets whilst leaning against a black Lamborghini. As much as his sight seemed appealing and lovely on the eyes, it also worried you.

He straightened himself to attention the moment he saw you walk over to him. In the early morning, there was no one else by the pavement to cause a scene. Only the two of you. So finally came the big question: How were you even going to start a conversation with someone like him?

“Firstly,” you began, clearing your throat, “ I have to ask…” He looked at you with curiosity, as you took a deep breath:

“Was your date the Prima Ballerina of the Moscow Ballet?” You asked genuinely.

Bruce chuckled loudly, evident that it was the most unexpected question. But truthfully, it was something that kept you up all night.

He nodded, “Yes”

As much as you were happy to have guessed right, you were even more mortified. You were indeed the villain in the piece. “Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed, “I’m so sorry for ruining your date, Mr.Wayne…”

“Heh…Don’t worry about it” You could not help but realize the gentle nature of his voice. Gentle to the point it could graze over flower petals without causing any harm. But you knew you did not deserve that. Calming down, you averted your gaze down.

“You really didn’t have to do this…”you said, looking around shyly, “Bail me out…I’m sure that awful man-” “Mr.Henderson-” Bruce pointed out. “Right…Mr.Henderson…”you corrected yourself,  “…won’t stop with just getting me arrested…” “Actually, he’s planning to press charges” “What?” Your jaw dropped, “Oh for the love of-” Covering your face with your left palm, you sighed hopelessly. “I’m sorry…” you said, looking up, “This is not professional of me at all. I…” you paused, “I just had a rough night” you admitted with honesty. Instead of driving you deeper with guilt, he just stood there with very little expression on his face. As if to let you recover from your own mess.

“Get in…” He said, a few seconds later as he motioned towards his car. Your eyes widened. “Oh…No! It’s fine, Mr.Wayne, I can get a taxi-”
“I insist…please!” He said, voice still gentle, “You did punch someone in the name of Wayne Enterprises…” he added with a touch of humor.

Finally giving into a chuckle, you nodded in admittance before getting in.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You may not have known much about cars, but you certainly knew this one was quite the machine all men would die for. Would not be so surprising to find out the magnetic attraction it possesses. A symbol of power, for sure. 
 Following the first silent minute, you already as if you were robbing of his kindness. As much as the company of a handsome gentleman made you happy, a feeling of guilt was strong enough to conquer all.  

“You know…” you began, “…you can just drop me off at the nearest bus station Mr.Wayne, you’re being too kind” You said with concern. “That won’t be necessary…” Bruce replied, his eyes still on the road as he drove, “Your address is already in the navigator” He said, with his hands on the wheel, motioning to the system screen. You chuckled. Of course, he must have pulled the file on you.

“As someone from HR …I have to say that is a major breach in Employee Privacy” you said, looking ahead whilst attempting to suppress a smile.

“Perks of being the Owner I guess…I suppose you can understand…” Bruce replied, confidence brimming, “And really? You work in HR?” He asked teasingly, “I certainly did not know that…” You laughed instantly. “Now I know you’re lying” “Well…It’s good to know we have a bruiser in HR-” “Oh no…” You cried out frustratingly, “Stop! I beg of you…As if it’s not embarrassing already to be bailed by the owner of the company…” You said, covering your face, “Ow!” You cried out. You seemed to be so accustomed to him, that you were not even aware of your bruised hand, “No…It’s fine…” you said in an instant the moment Bruce looked at your hand with concern. The way he glanced upon you, his silence compelled you to guiltily take off the tissue paper you had used to hide your knuckles. Opening it up, you bit your lip as it stung in contact with the morning chill. “No, it’s not fine…” Bruce said sternly, “...here” And to your surprise, he somehow managed to magically find a place to quickly stop the car.

Oh! Billionaires.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Surprises did not cease to exist so soon.

You sat there dumbfounded on the passenger seat, as you watched Bruce Wayne medically treat your right hand. His hands were articulate, cleaning out and disinfecting the skin, before smoothly applying a cooling cream over the bruises on each knuckle. He did it with such focus, you were nothing but entranced by the mere sight. And before you knew it, your hand looked like it was alive once again.

“You’re awfully good at this…” You remarked, watching him wrap a small bandage around your knuckles. The pain in your right hand deprived you the chance to identify and secretly indulge his touch. “Why, thank you…” He answered with a teasing smug. “But that definitely arouses suspicion” You had to respond, smirking with mischief. “Well..You’re awfully observant” He smirked back, as he pulled away. “It’s my job, Mr.Wayne…” You said, watching him put his hands on the wheel,“I’m a Manager in HR. I need to know the staff” you added, leaning back on your seat, “We need to know what they want. What they don’t want, like and dislike”

The car began to growl softly with the start of the engine, and it was on the road once more. With the bandage securely placed, you could move your hand freely again.

“I don’t understand…” Bruce suddenly began, “You seem like a very sensible person…” he continued, “What could possibly drive you to punch a man right in his face?” “I admit…” you began with a deep breath, “It was quite an overreaction…” as the recollection revisited you, “But...I had my reasons…” You spoke with such freedom. “Which are…?” “Mr. Wayne...” you said, as a sudden rush of confidence wore you like a suit, “I’ve been working in Wayne Enterprises for almost 10 years” you looked at him, nodding as his eyes grew wide, “I got my first job here, and I have been working here ever since. I grew up in so many ways thanks to this company. And I know how many people have benefited from it, just like me.”

Tilting your head, your eyes squinted looking forward, “Sure, the management had a bumpy road with Mr. Earle. But…” you paused, with a chuckle, “ I guess I’m too loyal to leave. Besides, with you finally getting ownership, and Mr. Fox being CEO, I’m liking the direction this company is heading…” You said with a smile, “But…loyalty and alcohol… does not go well together, I realized” you admitted, keeping one’s fingers on your chin.

Bruce chuckled. You felt proud to humor him. However, a part of you suddenly wondered if this honesty of yours was going to cause any judgement in him. “Please know that as a professional, I do not condone my actions…” You stressed out. “But...personally…?” “No regrets whatsoever…” You answered immediately,  “That gentleman had it coming…”. Gasping, you covered your mouth, “Wow!…” you giggled, “I’m being too forthcoming now, aren’t I?”

“Looks like it…” With a smirk, Bruce looked at you. For a split second, you could relate this to two old friends, sharing a naughty secret. Who knew that Bruce Wayne was just like any other man you knew, except with a bit of specialty blessed in him.

Yet, still you looked at him pleadingly. “Forgive me…Oh!” You exclaimed, the moment you realized the surroundings suddenly grew familiar. The Lamborghini was already in your neighborhood. Finding a space to his luck, he finally parked. Before unbuckling the seatbelt, you savored the moment. Turning to him, you looked at him for a few seconds. Noticing your stare, his eyebrows were raised:

“Are you by chance, doing your job?” He asked teasingly, looking your way, “Being observant?” 
 Taking a whiff of his cologne was unintentional, yet necessary.

“No…” You answered, shaking your head, “Just…taking one last look at you. Just...imprinting the image in my memory, as you might call it…” you chuckled, moving your hands over your head, “I’m sorry but…It’s very rare for people like me to even meet Bruce Wayne in person.” You added, “And it’s highly unlikely that I will ever see you again”.

Opening his mouth, Bruce produced no sound. And just like that, he quickly closed it. You smiled, lightly bowing your head with respect. Why you did it, you did not know.

“Thank You, Mr.Wayne…” you began, “...for everything” you added, showing your hand.

The very moment you got out of the car, and walked around to reach the pavement, a pang of unhappiness came over you. A sense of chill suddenly pushed the sense of warmth away. You did not know why exactly.  

But you froze, as Bruce Wayne suddenly called out your name with formality. Turning back to face him, you were more than eager: “Yes?” With the window fully open, he put his head out to take another look at you. Possibly a few years older than you, he certainly was handsome with the morning light shining over him, you realized. “Never underestimate the power of probability…” He said. You folded your arms, suppressing a smile. “You’ll have to be more specific” you replied. He smiled back softly. “We will see each other again…” He said, with confidence. Your arms loosened upon hearing it, and that swell of unhappiness, that chill suddenly disappeared into thin air. Leaving enough room for the warmth to creep back in. This time, the warmth was strong enough to glaze your heart.

Still smiling, Bruce gave a small wave. “You take care now” he said, to which you nodded.   “I will…Thank You” You said, watching the Lamborghini slowly take off. Your eyes followed it until the sight of it grew small to the size of a pea. Moving your head, you quickly spotted the figure of Allison walking down the street towards you, with a dropped jaw. Relieved to see her without any hangover, you smiled at her. 
 “Was that Bruce Wayne?” Allison asked, pointing at the now non-visible car, “THE BRUCE WAYNE?” She squealed. “Yep…” “Damn! He looks good.” She said deliciously, only to gasp soon after, “Wait! Did he bail you out?” Her face grew concerned seeing your nod, “Oh sweetie…You know I would have bailed you If I had money…I know you’re probably mad at me right now but-”

Where her rambling apology went, you did not know, and did not care. For you were too deep in your own thoughts. That warmth which glazed your heart. You have only felt it a few times before. Recalling the times, was when you finally realized the unthinkable.

“Fuck!” You breathed. Allison looked at you with shock, “Excuse me?” “FUCK!” Exclaiming louder, you groaned out with frustration. With your buttocks finally resting on the front steps of your apartment building, you groaned louder. “Shhhhhh!“ Your outright cursing had attracted the attention of a displeased nun, as she passed you by.   “I’m sorry...” Your apology to her was muffled, through your hands over your face. The roommate sat next to you with a worried look. She smelled of perfume and cigarettes.

“Sweetie…” she began, "You gotta tell me what’s going on! You’re freakin’ me out!” She said in a low tone, yet her concern was evident.

“I’m not...” you paused, taking your hands away, “I’m not mad at you…” you said calmly, looking forward “...if that’s what you’re worried about…” You added, “It’s just that…” you sighed, “I’m pretty sure I may have to quit my job…”

Eyes widening, Allison clutched her chest dramatically. “WHAT? But WHY?” “Because....” linking your hands together, you exhaled deeply before turning to her: “I think… I like Bruce Wayne...”

——————————————————

Is your curiousity stirred? Chapter 2 HERE

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[devilsnwitches]

SSDD - Ch3 - Into the Fire

AO3 <Link - Written by Me & @lynxtigerwritings

Tags = AU Canon-Divergent / Canon-Typical Behavior

Pairings = Vergil-OFC / Dante-OFC / Nero-Kyrie / V-OFC / Nero-V

Note - READ LOVE’S SACRIFICE BEFORE THIS CHAP IF YOU HAVEN’T - Pairing V/OFC

“Are you shittin’ me? Three to four months and you guys haven’t been attacked yet? What the actual fuck?” Was the first thing Yvette said once she and Charlotte got the full story.

Charlotte had to agree with Yvette. Demons should have been swarming them the moment the deal had been made. They should’ve been prime targets for any and all sorts of attacks. That demon either had the patience of a saint, or there was something more at play. She looked over at the blue-black bird that was resting on V’s shoulder. Golden-beady eyes were steadily watching her, assessing.

The light bulb came on quick in her head. There was indeed a reason why demons weren’t attacking this kid, and it had nothing to do with the deal. “You’re Mundus’ familiar.” She turned to Yvette. “The fallen King of the Underworld. The throne is still up for grabs.”

“Well ain’t that a plot twist,” Yvette whistled, “Damn, V, you go man.”

V glanced towards his room where he’d done the ritual all those months ago. Yvette’s praise felt...good, in a way, but he bowed his head to her. "‘He who holds to himself a joy, doth the winged life destroy’." Taking every precaution had been what gotten him this far. At least that was what he liked to believe. “Xina told me you had...advice for me.”

Charlotte let out a long, slow breath. Her eyes wandered. His tattoos, the circles under his eyes, and how he held himself. It was clear that this took energy. She didn’t know what price he paid, but she didn’t doubt it was a heavy one. She glanced over at Alexina, who was quiet. They were both soft-spoken, good-hearted kids. She inhaled sharply and let it out again. “Kid...no.” She shook her head, “V.” She looked at him. His eyes were fierce. They told a story without her having to ask for a word. “I’m gonna be blunt and honest with you because I respect you. You’re one of the few people that I’ve sat with, had a conversation with, and know for a damn fact that my sister and I might not get out of here alive if we went up against you. That’s saying something coming from a seasoned witch of thirty years or so. Whatever demon you made a deal with...they fucked up. They weren’t expecting you, but they also won. Whatever price you told them you’d pay...and believe me I can take a gander...they got more than what they bargained for. What that means, is that your life is no longer going to be easy. I’m not talking about the pain and the familiars. I’m not even talking about demons coming after you. There are people who’d want exactly what you can do. That’s not to say you can’t live a normal life. You’d have to fight for that. What I am saying is that...your new normal isn’t going to be fun and games.”

The silence was heavy and she knew V was hanging on to her every word. He was an observer. He looked and listened, a lot more than most people. Griffon didn’t seem to be too thrilled with the thickness of the conversation, ruffling his feathers and trilling. He didn’t like her very much and she didn’t blame him. Lysander reputation went far into the Underworld. Just like Dante’s. Soon to be this kid. “My advice to you, V, is to learn what you got. You can harness demon energy, summon things from the Underworld, and make it your bitch. That’s not easy. Not everyone has that kind of willpower, that kind of spirit. You’re both a hazard and the most dangerous person I know. I know the Sparda brothers. They’re as dangerous as you and they’re older.”

V looked down at his hand, examining the tattoos that only barely went over his knuckles, “‘I am a series of small victories and large defeats, and I am as amazed as any other that I have gotten from there to here’.” Glancing up again he knew for sure that Alexina and himself wouldn’t continue to be so lucky to be left alone. He had read about Sparda, same as any other who was smart enough to learn history. Of course he had thrown himself headfirst into that world. “Is there anyone that can teach me? Reading will only get me so far. If I have this power, I might as well put it into practice.”

“Now we’re talking!” Griffon cackled.

Charlotte looked at Yvette, a slight head-tilt and a raised brow. There were plenty of people. They could do it, at the very least get him on the basics, a foundation. Dante and Vergil could do it as well. Demon hunters and half-demons as they were, they had been around the block. She wasn’t sure if she should lump Vergil there, honestly. Nero and Kyrie were another factor. They were part of the Order a long time ago.

Her lips pursed. They had options, but the question isn't quantity. It was quality. There was no one that’d teach him summoning, he would have to learn through trial and error. “If that’s what you want to do, then we’ll help you find someone that can,” Charlotte said after a moment. “Dante has a network of people, I’m sure there’s bound to be someone he can recommend to you to help. If not, I’ll take you.” She looked at V squarely. “If, of course, I’m up to your standards.” She glanced at Griffon. “I already know how you feel about me, chickie.”

“Oh, you son of a-” He was about to fly towards Charlotte but was stopped by V’s hand and he settled himself back down, shaking out his feathers in a miffed sort of fashion. Alexina’s lips were curved slightly, looking away from them as she hid her amusement.

“Then that is what I will take,” V nodded to Charlotte, “I appreciate you offering to take me under your wing.”

“If you’re interested in spellwork and seeing if you can turn your poems into spells, I’m totally down for helping you out there. Char does the hexes and the symbols and stuff, I’m the Latin person.” Yvette beamed proudly.

Now that did sound like an idea. It amused him that the one who seemed the brashest was the one who could speak the elegant language of Latin. “I will take that into consideration, thank you.”

Charlotte leaned back looking a little on the exhausted side all of the sudden. She could already tell that she was going to be in hell for the next few months since her sister offered Latin courses to a kid that probably could summon a demon with literally his wits alone. “You both will be the death of me. I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Griffon cackled. “I’ll let Shortstack have that gold star, girlie.”

X

The following day, Charlotte decided that the best way to test out V was to throw him into the fire. She wasn’t literally going to toss him into a middle of a demon fight and see how he fared, that wasn’t the greatest idea. However, she was going to drag him to see how he fit in with the rest of the group and see if Nico was willing to fit him up with a weapon. A conduit or something. She doubted he could swing anything heavy. She leaned back in the driver’s seat, eyeing him from the corner. He was reading his book, but she could tell that not a single thing was not noticed.

She could already tell, this kid was the kid that teachers loathed in school. Not for his smarts, oh they’d praise that, but he’d get bored quick. He’d pick up a book and read, and not once miss a beat. “You know, your stubbornness is a treat.” She said after a moment.

“Oh?” V picked his head up and watched her curiously, “Stubborn natures are not usually praised. What sparked you to say something like that about me?”

“There’s stubborn as in stubborn idiots and then there’s stubborn as in smart. I’ve dealt with more stubborn idiots than smart ones. Believe me, you’re a breath of fresh air, V.” Charlotte smiled as she tilted her head towards him as she flipped her turn signal to turn a corner. “You watch. You listen. I bet there have been a few times where if you wanted to, you could’ve started a shit show or ended one.” She hummed under her breath. “Mind if I ask you something personal, V?”

“You may ask anything you like, but there is no guarantee I will answer,” V responded cryptically, turning his page and settling further into the seat of the car.

Charlotte grinned, seemingly pleased. “Fine, I’ll give you two questions.” Even though there was no guarantee he’d answer either of them, it still made her pleased that one of the questions he might choose over the other. “What’s your full name? I only know you as V and while that’s not a bad nickname, it’s a...very short one.”

“Indeed it is.” His lips quirked at that, not elaborating in the slightest. He gave his full name to few people. The applications for the few times he held a job and Alexina.

Charlotte’s smile widened and she let out a soft chuckle. She flipped on another turn signal. “Okay. That’s fair.” Laughter echoed in her words as her eyes crinkled with the emotion. “Your girlfriend’s hot. Nico even said it.”

V’s hand twitched on his book, and he felt his neck warm, but otherwise gave nothing away, “I half expected that to come from Yvette’s mouth, not your own. Xina is not my girlfriend, even if Griffon calls her Hathaway.”

“Familiars are jerks as in they give things away before you even get a chance to hide.” Charlotte glanced at her rearview mirror. “Vet’s a terrible influence sometimes, and admittedly talking girl last night got me all sorts of curious. Nico’s also no help in that either. Thought I’d ask first before one of them pounced on you...loudly. Believe me, you’d rather be trapped where you are than getting a massage from Yvette if she’s around.”

“I will keep that in mind.” V closed his book and set it on his lap, eyes on the area around them once he realized the surroundings were unfamiliar. “Tell me again, where we are going?”

“We’re getting you fitted,” Charlotte replied, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. “We’re tracking down Nico and her van. I don’t want her hauling through the streets like they’re made of clay. I’m thinking they’re back at Dante’s place. If Vergil’s the stubborn idiot type I think he is, he’s there as well and if he is...I get to get upset about the wound he’s undoubtedly making angry.” She glanced at V. “Pop quiz time, V. What does the name Abaddon mean to you?”

Racking his brain, V knew he’d heard that before. It didn’t take long for him to narrow it down, “Abaddon, one of the Christian Angels of Death. Also known to be a demon. Rules over a bottomless pit, an Abyss. A destroyer. Destruction.”

He did his research. Charlotte tapped her fingers on the steering wheel again. Which meant he decided which demon to summon when he did his little ritual. “Okay. Now tell me a bit about Stolas.”

“Often depicted as an owl with a crown, or a raven,” V didn’t take as long to answer that as an image came to mind, “Known for astronomy, poison plants, and their herbs as well as precious stones. Not much is really known about him besides that.”

Charlotte nodded a few times, “He’s a plant demon with a thirst of trouble and worse his plants don’t usually have antidotes. Not ones that you can find anywhere, anyway.” She nodded her head towards the back of her car. “I’ve studied plants, that’s my shtick besides drawing sigils and paper origami spells. If you meet up with a demon that can do plants, don’t. I don’t even know how Vergil’s still alive. Stubbornness and pride I guess. I can’t blame him, I’d do the same thing. I ain’t dying to a plant. I think that’s everyone’s thought. Still. Things are getting worse from here, and if you’re gonna get in the middle of these battles, I’d rather you know. I have some of the cures. If you’re handy with plants, I can teach you how to make some of them, just in case.”

“By ‘antidotes you can’t find anywhere’ do you mean ‘common antidotes’?” V arched a brow at her. It wasn’t often he found himself around someone who would ramble away about something. Xina only did that when she was passionate about her chosen topic. “Xina ribs me for it, but I tend to keep my room as dark as possible. Blackout curtains and the like. So I don’t usually keep plants alive.”

“I’ll give you some extras then. Bottles I mean.” Charlotte grimaced. “Words and I aren’t..uh...good with each other.” She smiled thinly. “I’m the one that graduated high school, too, let that sink. We’re here.”

Eyeballing the building V slowly got out of the car and took a good hard long look at it. Committing it to memory would be a good idea, as he felt he would be coming around here quite often in the future to come. Right in front of them was an arched roof over the porch, double doors that were certainly worn in. In fact, the whole building looked worn down as if they were in the slums of Redgrave city, but V knew they were only in one of the several residential areas. Attached to the roof was a clear neon sign with cursive letters loudly screaming "Devil May Cry" and a man at the end with a gun pointed towards the capital D, a full-body sword on his back. “Should I be concerned?” V couldn’t help asking.

“The only thing you gotta worry about, Shakespeare, is keeping your head on straight.” Griffon appeared on V’s shoulder, peering at the building. “Nothing in there’s gonna bite ya, and there’s no shame in running away. You can always run away if you have to.”

“Never thought I’d hear the day a demon told someone to run away and mean it kindly.” Charlotte mused as she came out from the rear seats, carrying a stick of metal. “Come on. Dante’s kind enough and Griffon’s right. No one’s in there looking at you for a fight. If anything, they’re gonna be curious about you as you are them.” She gently patted V’s back.

As soon as they walked through the doors, V heard the wooden floorboards creak beneath his sandaled feet, and when he looked up from being startled by it he was greeted by an interesting sight. Two red couches to his left underneath the stairway were filled with people, the desk straight ahead of him had a man with shocking silver-white hair sitting in it, and they were all watching a familiar short woman with a trash bag in hand muttering to herself as she busied around like a bumblebee.

Before he or Charlotte could say anything, a voice at the top of the stairs caused him to look up. “Why is Yvette cleaning your place by herself, Dante?” He looked like the man behind the desk with his hair too wet to form a shape, only he wore shades of blue instead of shades of red.

V was the one to answer him, “It seems to me she’s the type of person to not allow anyone in her way.”

Charlotte was impressed. Five seconds in the door and he already called out her sister. Then again, it was probably cheating since they already met yesterday. The other boy on the couch looked over at them, his silver hair much shorter and wearing a royal blue hoodie spoke up. “Who’s the MCR knock off?”

Nico, on the other hand, was already leaping to her feet and heading towards Charlotte. “Is that what I think you got in yer hands there, Lotty?”

Charlotte’s instant response was to hold it up over her head, despite that, both girls were the same height if Charlotte wasn’t a tiny bit taller. “Uh-huh. I got rules for this one, Nico. Nothing flashy, something practical, and can be used in a fight.”

“Seriously? Yer gonna make me go borin’ with that piece of equipment?” Nico folded her arms over her chest. “Do you know how awesome I can make that thing? It’d be a work of art.”

“It’s not for me. It’s a gift.” Charlotte bargained. “Triple your usual rate. Unless...this isn’t a challenge at all for you Nico.”

“Give me that.” Nico jumped up and snatched it out of Charlotte’s hands. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m actually holding this...who's it for?”

Charlotte merely tilted her head and Nico looked right over at V. Her eyes looked all over him for a moment and then noted, “You must be Lexi’s boy.”

Griffon cackled. “Looks like they all got you pegged, pretty boy.”

Dante even glanced up at the bird’s voice. He didn’t have to look over at the stairs to know that Vergil probably shifted uncomfortably. The familiar looked….well...familiar. He looked back at Charlotte. “I didn’t shove her into doing this. She-”

“I VOLUNTEERED AS TRIBUTE!” Yvette screamed towards Charlotte, “You should’ve seen this place, Char! Horrible! You would’ve cried!”

Charlotte did a whistle as she held three fingers solemnly towards her sister and turned to Dante. “Next time instead of sacrificing my sister to the Hunger Games, rent yourself a wife.”

“I volunteer for that, too.” Yvette chirped and Vergil scoffed up above.

Dante shrugged, a smirk playing at his lips. “I didn’t do anything. She’s the one that went Tohru Honda on me. I barely said a word, let alone told her to do anything. I offered to help, but V called it.”

“Oh my fucking god, nerds. The lot of you.” Charlotte deadpanned, her attention turned towards Vergil. “How did my handiwork come out?”

“After a certain point,” Vergil put the towel he’d been using to dry his hair around his neck, “My demon healing took over. My back isn’t completely healed over, but it will be by tomorrow.” He wasn’t about to say that avoiding itching it had been a nightmare.

Nero noticed that V was gluing himself to the corner of the room, watching them. Griffon was steady on his shoulder, beady golden eyes also surveying the room as they took in the different interactions. He had a book under his arm, but Nero wouldn’t be at all surprised to look back at him and see his nose stuck in it. Nico’s question also went avoided. Either she was wrong and he didn’t know who Lexi was, or this kid didn’t know why Nico knew.

Charlotte did tell them that they had met him and that she wanted to see everyone’s reactions to him. Nero didn’t feel anything towards him, but that demon on his shoulder certainly gave him pause. He didn’t miss the look Dante made as he glanced over it. Carefully Nero stood up. He didn’t know why, but V reminded him of one of the shy orphans he sometimes ran into when Kyrie was working.

They were the ones that saw more than people wanted to admit. More ghosts in their closets and skeletons. The way V was watching him approach was much like how someone would watch a predator walk up to them. Assessing every move and every word before speaking. Like there was a game behind it. Nero didn’t do well with those kinds of games. All they told him was that the kid got hurt.

It sucked that this goth kid also looked like he was in a world of hurt. He noticed the necklace instantly. Same one the girl wore. The tattoos that were swirling in complicated and ornate designs were a little faded. Mostly around his arm that Griffon was perched on.

“Seeing something you like?” Griffon taunted Nero.

Nero instantly was reminded how he greeted his father and he tilted his head at the bird. “A talking bird.” He pretended to be impressed. “That’s a hell of a party trick you got there. I’m Nero. Who are you?”

“If you would like to see a party trick, I can certainly provide. You may call me V.” His olive green eyes crinkled a bit at the corners as a smirk tried to worm its way onto his face.

“V, huh?” Nero clicked his tongue. Playing the mystery route. He supposed he couldn’t blame the kid. Well, he was probably older than him. “This isn’t your only one?” He rapped his fingers towards Griffon.

“Ooh, someone wants to play.” Griffon trilled. “Don’t think you can handle us, little bug.”

Nero raised an eyebrow, “Was that the best you could come up with, Chicken?”

Charlotte made a soft noise in the background.

“First Charlotte wove her web and now you wish to irritate Griffon,” V was amused, and he forced himself to tear away from staring at Nero’s lovely blue eyes to address Dante, “I assume demons are a common sight around here?”

“I don’t think Lotty’s gonna win you any spelling bees. Also, you’re talkin’ to a quarter.” Nero pointed at Nico. “The only thing that’s demonic about her is her weapons.”

“Ain’t that the gospel truth,” Nico called from over her shoulder as she was heading back to her van. “I got a commission, so you boys have fun. Tell Lexi I said hi, V. She’s something fierce.”

“Shut up, Nico!” Nero rolled his eyes. “Honestly. It’s like she doesn’t get it.”

Dante watched the exchange with a furrowed brow and he leaned back. “The only thing that’s not so common to see is you, V, but Nero’s on track. I’m a half-demon. So is tall and brooding up there on the stairs. Everyone else around you is human. Well. As human as they get.”

“I was referring to more...unusual sights,” he glanced at Griffon but continued his smirk at Nero and patted his shoulder as he went by, “Outside.” He didn’t say anything else, going back for the door. He had been itching for a safe place to release his third, and if Nero wished for a party trick, then this was the perfect opportunity.

Silence. Nero was the first to shrug it off and head outside. Charlotte also decided to go, mostly out of curiosity and to see what this “party trick” was going to consist of. She was pretty sure her sister and Dante weren’t far off. Nico wouldn’t give a damn unless she saw it from her van. Vergil was also up in the air, but she could presume he followed if to confirm whatever suspicions he had.

Plenty of space was a wonderful start. V also wasn’t too concerned that it was daylight, as it meant people were more than likely at work and wouldn’t stare out their windows at the ruckus. It wouldn’t be for long, either, he had nothing for it to attack, but he could not deny he was eager. In all reality, this would be the first time he saw Nightmare the same as everyone else. Griffon had only told him of it.

Turning around, V decided to start off the show with shrugging Griffon off his shoulder and then flourished his arm out towards the group, his tattoos breaking off in particles and swirling before Shadow roared and pounced on the ground, shaking herself off from being cooped up.

“That’s two,” Charlotte muttered under her breath.

Nero had a feeling there was more to this. Like there was tension that started to crackle in the air. Anticipation made his blood roar in his ears like he was getting ready for a fight, even though there wasn’t one to be had. “Come on.” He grinned ferally. “That cat’s not everything you got.” He called out towards V. “Don’t hold back on us. This party’s just getting started.”

Something in Nero’s grin made V feel lively, and the smirk turned into a genuine smile. As he raised his arm slowly above his head he spoke, “‘He who kisses the joy as it flies, lives in eternity's sunrise’.” A snap. An explosion of black particles. The cool rush through V’s body that replaced the near-constant prickling made V close his eyes in blissful relief.

Nero wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but there were two surprises. One: V’s hair was suddenly stark white. It almost made Nero take a step back in surprise. A quarter demon like himself? Yet, he made a deal with a demon so...that wasn’t possible. The second thing was how large this familiar was. Stocky, like it was made of nothing but stone, but it’s body pulsed and swirled with dark energy and matter. As though it was created from it. A large purple eye was glowing in the middle of where the head should’ve gone. It was deep inside of the shoulder and it barely made any noise. Nero could…get this feeling this creature was confused. Who did it attack?

“Goddamn.” Nero whistled. “You certainly weren’t kidding when you said that you can do tricks.”

Charlotte pursed her lips together. Three. Everything came in three. “This kid.” She muttered fondly. “Is going to be the death of someone, I swear.”

V was absolutely in awe of the massive creature in front of him when he turned to look at it. He felt it’s confusion and he subconsciously hushed it, reaching out and laying his hand on what looked like a rocky arm. Coarse. Warm. He was fascinated and glanced up, examining the purple eye. Having Nightmare out was such a rush but he smiled ruefully, knowing it couldn’t last. Patting it, he allowed it to return since it had nothing to do. “That…” he released a long breath and turned back towards Nero, “Was Nightmare.” He motioned to the panther with glowing red designs on her fur, “Shadow.”

“It looked like one.” Nero quipped as Shadow paced herself in front of V before weaving around his legs. Nero could tell that the familiars were attached. Extremely attached. He didn’t doubt that if any of them made a move against V, they’d be in a world of hurt. Especially after Nightmare’s little show and tell. “You look like you’re halfway between passing out and in pain.”

“My, you are quite astute,” V placed his hand over his chest, taking a deep breath as the prickling pain was settling down. It wasn’t nearly so bad with Shadow out, and really he was grateful Alexina enjoyed his panther familiar so she could be out more often. “I am more...dizzy from relief. It has been nearly four months and Nightmare has never been out.”

Nero frowned. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, but he had a feeling asking it would only lead him in circles. “Let’s go back inside, and you can stop hogging the corner. Just in case someone else wants to pretend that it’s the corner of invisibility. You only make me feel bad.”

“You joke like your Uncle,” Vergil sighed, making his presence known.

“It means he has a good sense of humor. Don’t knock it because you don’t,” Dante teased.

V watched as Yvette, who was holding the door open, giggled madly at the exchange. Shaking his head, he stroked the top of Shadow’s head and followed everyone back inside. Though he did pause and look at Charlotte, “What are your thoughts now?”

“My thoughts are that you are a fucking terrifying person,” Charlotte said bluntly. “And how you haven’t been a target lately changed. Someone’s bound to feel that, and take it as a challenge.”

“Well now. That’s good. Business was getting slow, thought the demons finally got bored.” Dante swung his arms back and forth. “Prepare for the worst like the Abaddon fellow. And that Stolas. You and I got a score to settle with him later.”

Charlotte wasn’t sure if rolling her eyes would mean anything, but she did so anyway.

“That is another reason why Charlotte brought me here.” V explained once they were all inside and heading for the couches, “My familiars can protect Xina and I, but I have no training.”

It hit close to home. Nero felt like the world suddenly was showing him a mirror. He thought of Kyrie back at the orphanage that she was working at. They were far enough that any demon could take her at any moment. She took self-defense because Credo and Nero couldn’t stand the thought of her getting hurt, but anyone could be taken off guard. It only took one. One second. One moment.

Nero already knew that if his Uncle or his father didn’t, he would. “Fuck.” Nero hissed after a moment, throwing himself down to the couch, crossing his legs in midair. “I’m doing it.”

“Whoa-oh. Hotshot thinks he can teach us new tricks, huh?” Griffon leered. “What makes you our number one pick of the week?”

V held his hand to Griffon, watching Nero intently.

There were millions of reasons that Nero obviously shouldn’t take him on. Life experience, not a witch, had no idea how to do anything with familiars, weapon variety, fighting styles, there were plenty of reasons not to. Instead, Nero looked at V square in the eye. At the same time, there were reasons to help.

Nero eyed Griffon and instead of addressing V, addressed the bird. “Number one pick of the year.” He pointed out before turning his attention to V. “Because of anyone in this fucking place knows anything about what you’re going through. It’s me and my father, and my father’s injured and while he can recover in a day, I’m sitting right here. I don’t got a lot under my belt, that’s true, but I got enough to get you back to Lex safe. I got enough to help you protect her because I know that if one drop of blood leaves her, you’re guilt-ridden for a month.”

An inhale and V gingerly touched the tooth necklace. He had made a guess, but that confirmed it. “‘The people who consider you weak have not yet noticed the wolf hiding behind your eyes, nor the flames inside your soul’.” The poem fell from him without any trouble at all, “I accept your offer, Nero. We should perhaps talk next about places to train. Keeping my energy flares as far away from her as possible would be ideal. You understand.”

“Yeah.” Nero did understand. He turned towards Dante who was watching them with a complicated expression. He didn’t bother to question it. “You good with us using your back yard ol’ man?”

Dante rolled his eyes, “Sure thing, whippersnapper.”

Yvette cracked up in the background.

Nero paled, he forgot that Dante wasn’t one to lay down and take it, “No wait-”

“You kids can be on my lawn if you need to,” he continued, as though Nero didn’t say a word.

“Oh my god-” Nero wanted to fucking die.

“I’ll toss a newspaper at you every once a while,” Dante’s grin was feral as Nero looked completely done with this conversation, “Vergil do you remember back in the good ol’ day-”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD PLEASE!” Nero threw a pillow at Dante and wasn’t at all surprised that it was caught. “I get the MESSAGE!”

Vergil pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Yvette wheezing, her cleaning tirade completely halted as she stopped to laugh to death, “At least someone enjoys your jokes.”

Charlotte pursed her lips together, “I vaguely find myself in between horror and amusement because I suddenly can feel my age.”

“You are not-” Nero rounded onto Charlotte. “Following his line.”

“Oh please, I have enough confidence in myself to not embarrass you to death.” Nero looked relieved for five seconds. “I’ll do that to you on the battlefield.”

Yvette pointed at Charlotte from her position leaning on the wall, “She will roast people on the field!”

Griffon trilled, “Not unless I shock them first, shortstack.”

V shook his head, “Not that sort of roasting. I understand the reference.” He chuckled when Yvette chirped a ‘yay’.

“Nerds.” Charlotte deadpanned. “Violent nerds. All of you. I thought you people were supposed to be sweet. Goddamn.”

“You went to the wrong school,” Nero retorted.

“I must have. Fuck me.”

“Well, we got that all straightened out and taken care of.” Dante looked pleased. “If you need any help Nero, we got you covered.” He turned towards Charlotte. “You keeping an eye out?”

“So far nothing.” Charlotte shrugged. “Either they’re cowards, or this is gonna bring them out of hiding.”

“Then we’ll see you sometime later.” Dante turned to V. “You know that’s a good question. How are you going to sneak out on your girl anyway? It’s rude to leave her hanging.”

“There is no sneaking involved. Xina was the one who suggested I take their advice in the first place. Their advice was training. So here I am.” V leaned back, getting more comfortable.

“She has a good head on her shoulders.” Nero looked at V. “I’m glad to know you two aren’t the types to not tell each other shit. I can already tell you how bad that can go down.”

“Yeah yeah, dramatic effect, near death love confessions. Not that won’t happen an-” Griffon was cut off.

Yvette was quite surprised when V was not the one to silence his familiar, but it was Vergil standing abruptly that caught everyone’s attention.

“Secrets between lovers leads to death.” The hiss was cutting and the words dripped acid, but if they were aimed at anyone it was himself. Vergil turned on his heel and his strides were long and swift towards the door, snatching his coat from the hooks, “I am going out.” Was his only explanation before the door clicked shut behind him.

The silence was uncomfortable, but no one had the heart to refute it. Not even Griffon for all the wise-cracks that he made. Charlotte stared at the door, her expression complicated. Only for a moment before she finally decided to also leave. Either to follow him or to get away from the silence was beyond them.

Shadow, on the other hand, seemed to have an idea. She leaped on the couch and draped herself over Nero’s legs, stretching herself as long as she possibly could before melting against his lap.

“I didn’t realize I was destined to be a demon pillow,” Nero said dryly but gingerly ran his hand through her fur. It was...shocking at how soft the fur was and the energy that crackled underneath her. It wasn’t painful, not at all, but it most definitely reminded him that she was more than a panther. “Good girl.” He muttered under his breath as she purred louder. “I think I’m stuck.” He admitted.

Dante huffed a laugh before walking out of the room. “Need me to haul those out for you, Yeti?” He asked, pointing at the trash bags she had collected.

“Don’t call me that,” Yvette muttered even as a smile played at her lips and she tied off the one in her hands, all of the trash picked up by now, “Sure, you can show me where the bins are.”

V listened as the two made their way to do their own thing, and he crossed his ankles in front of him as he arched a brow at Nero with Shadow. They were left alone now. “She likes you.” He decided to start off.

“Never thought of myself as a cat person. Dog person sure, but cats? Never really had a chance to go up against one.” Nero said as he rubbed Shadow’s ears and she headbutted his hand to get him to rub more. “She’s a lovebug, isn’t she? All that affection. It’s like you and Lex don’t spoil her, and I know better than that.”

“I’ve heard plenty of people say they don’t like cats because they are evil or something of the sort,” V waved his hand dismissively, “I prefer cats over dogs myself. Our apartment doesn’t allow pets, but since this is...awfully convenient,” he traced over his own tattoos, a mischievous little smile on his face this time, “Xina has been extremely pleased she gets to have Shadow who’s the size of a dog but a giant ball of love.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Griffon pouted. “You make it sound like Hathaway holds no love for me V. Rude. I get the feather scratches.”

At that, V actually laughed and he reached his hand up, scratching under Griffon’s chin, “Indeed you do.”

Nero’s lips curved into a smirk. “Lex has a soft spot for animals and she adores you because you can talk.”

“That is not my only shtick hotshot.” Griffon stuck his neck out further for V to scratch. “I am an extremely good wingman too. They’re stubborn.”

Chuckling again, V continued to scratch Griffon absently and looked to Nero’s demonic arm. He hadn’t a chance to really take it in, “If you use your claws I’m sure Shadow will adore you.”

“You mean my nails or…” Nero trailed off as he looked at his demon arm. It had been a while since he had a stranger look at it. Kyrie hadn’t minded, which had been a fucking surprise to him. For V to point it out, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He switched hands but was careful for it, just in case Shadow didn’t like it. As he gently used his nails to scratch Shadow, he was pleasantly surprised when he saw a tiny hint of tongue stick out. Well now. There was a pause. “Pretty terrifying looking isn’t it.”

“Your arm? I don’t think so at all.” V shook his head, resting his hands in his lap and watching Nero with interest, “Though I will say I am confused why you have that and neither Dante nor Vergil do. Is it because you are a quarter?”

“I think so.” Nero shrugged. “My theory is that both Dante and pops can do a Devil Trigger and go full demon. Since I’m a quarter, I don’t think I have that ability and this is kinda...you know...the only reminder I got that says ‘yeah you got demon blood in you’.” He shifted his weight carefully underneath Shadow. The familiar was pretty freaking heavy, but he wasn’t about to push the cat aside yet. “It happened when I got injured a long time ago. It’s...it’s a hard story. That’s why I get it when you said you wanted to protect Lex. I couldn’t protect Kyrie. Almost lost her. It took a long time to get over it, we still wake each other up sometimes with nightmares about it, but...the orphanage keeps us busy...and demon hunting most definitely keeps me busy. Yet the reminders are still there. She used to sing for the Order. One of the best singers. You’d get along with her famously I think.”

“I would enjoy meeting her.” V nodded. He said her name with honey-sweet affection and it warmed his heart. “Xina isn’t my girlfriend, but maybe someday. That’s a secret you get to know. My name is also Vitale.” He ignored Griffon’s squawk and how Shadow twitched her ear. “I don’t tell many people that.”

“Yeah, Lex was pretty secretive about your identity as well. Pulled out all the stops to make sure she didn’t even say V.” Nero watched him for a moment. “She said to me that she was sick when you made the deal.” He paused in scratching Shadow’s fur. “Was she really near death or was that you jumping to conclusions?”

V licked his lips and took a deep breath, “I prayed to the Gods first, for a miracle. I knew if I made a deal with the devil it had to be because there was no other way. So that is what I did. The night I made the decision...she wouldn’t have made it to see her favorite thing. The sunrise.”

Nero let out a slow long breath. Griffon was even oddly quiet about it. Solemn. “You’re an interesting guy, V.”

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (10)

Chapter 10: Bokrug vs. A-Bomb vs. Watt! Ultimate Deathmatch!!!

Despite having only golf clubs, A-Bomb was fearless. A reckless sort of fearlessness that leads one to charge a 25 pound, machine gun toting mass of unadulterated avian fury.

A fearlessness that would only make sense if your opponent was playing right into your hands.

“Bokrug! Look out!”

By the time the last word left my mouth, it was too late. A-Bomb teed off on Bokrug’s jaw, sending the gander flying. The machine gun clattered to the ground, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. All that was left was for A-Bomb to start teeing off on Bokrug’s downed carcass, which he gleefully did. Repeatedly. And it looked very painful, so painful it scared me out of mini golf for life. Even so much as touching a club gives me memories of the poor goose’s gasps of pain.

“Please, my child.” He begged “You may have fallen far, but the kind, innocent boy I once knew is still in there. I can feel it!”

“Really? Because my internet history says otherwise!”

If Bokrug wasn’t getting hit before, now he’d been reduced to the world’s downiest piñata. And yours truly could only watch helplessly as his physical form looked like it was gonna explode into a million bloody pieces any second, too glued to my seat (literally) to do anything. Or was I? Because A-Bomb had only glued the bottom of my seat. If I could only wriggle out of my pants…

           Gotta give credit to Bokrug: he held out much longer than I thought he would. But even dinosaurs fall with enough beating, and before long A-Bomb was standing triumphantly over his kill like some African big game hunter. Right as I was able to slip out of my pants. Though when you consider I was wearing my pachyrhinosaurus underwear, the exact same smelly pair I’d been wearing since I’d left camp, this may have made my problem much, much worse.

           A-Bomb laughed loud and deep at the sight, his face turning a deep red. This must have gone on for several minutes, him constantly on the verge of chortling his lungs out, myself too strawberry red to move. Then, once he’d spit out enough chuckles to speak again:

“A-are you kidding me?!“He pointed at me like some schoolyard bully. “Of all the dinosaurs you get monogramed on your underwear, you chose the NERD one?!”

I breathed deep. “Pachyrhinosauus is an amazing and criminally underrated member of the ceratopsian clade! In addition, it is woefully underrepresented in museu-”

A-Bomb thought that was a regular knee slapper.

“Kid, everyone knows the only reason they throw Pachyrhinosaurus in museums is so they can reach their diversity quotas! Yy-you are such a pathetic NERD!” Another fit of laughter later, he added “I-I can’t kill you like this!”

He snapped his fingers, summoning a legion of brown bagger clones armed with those dumb laser scanners to circle us.

“How about this? For making me laugh, I’ll let you escape! Heck, I’ll throw in a 30 second head start, free of charge!”

The Brown Baggers joined their master’s jeering, lest they be sent to the unemployment line (AKA Pete’s Slaughterhouse). Speaking of the Master, he pulled a bottle of Crystal Springs Water from his khakis and began chugging like he’d hadn’t drunk in a week, the power coursing through his veins.

           I should have run, run like the pathetic wimp I was. But I didn’t. Because at the end of the day, you can steal sacred water from roleplaying geese. You can threaten to turn me into a corporate slave. You can bludgeon a close friend of mine within an inch of his life with and force me to watch. Heck, you can even force me to watch Carney the dinosaur sixty hours straight if you wanna! But nobody, and I mean NOBODY, makes fun of my pachyrhinosaurus underpants and lives to see the next sunrise!

           Instead, I dashed for my pants, thirty seconds ticking away fast. Ten seconds in, I was pulling the packet of grow dinosaurs from my pocket. Another ten I got the stupid wrapping off.

Nine…

I remembered what Bokrug had said about the water, how it was enchanted and whatnot.

Eight…

Problem was, I had no idea where the real water was. The only one I knew was the real deal was being held by A-Bomb, and I sure wasn’t getting there.

Seven…

Unless… I looked at the sad water fountain, spurting alone between two shelves. Maybe the water of the sacred spring wasn’t in a bottle at all.

Six…

I concentrated. No going back now. No regrets…

Five…

A red pill rocketed through the air, a glorious, million dollar shot. A million glowing red darts marked themselves on me.

Four…

Three seconds. Four tense, terrible seconds of that pill riding the wind, right to the rim of the water fountain, teetering on the edge until, at last, the Luck of the Tostigs pulled through, and that baby went right down the drain.  

Three, two…

Something pushed out from inside the water fountain, something BIG!

One…

Shrapnel exploded from where the water fountain had once been as a giant sponge triceratops burst out, alien style. The beast charged, plowing down brown baggers like they were blades of grass. As for A-Bomb, he didn’t even get a chance to set a stupid expression on his face before he was reduced to a red stain on the tile floor. And from where that water fountain once stood, the sacred spring gushed forth, coating the rest of the little sponge grow capsules, turning them to life-size dinosaurs. Not missing a beat, I hopped on the triceratops, and gave it a little bit of Tostig family advice:

“CHAAAARRRRGGGGGGEEEEEE!”

And boy howdy, did we! With a bellow that shook the foundations of the Wegmart, the triceratops launched fifty employees so high they left little brown bagger shaped holes in the ceiling! Heck, if I hadn’t used my toe claws to lodge myself in its’ skin, I might have been tossed into the next state!. Meanwhile, where the water of the Sacred Sprinng showered on Bokrug, he changed, wings becoming massive muscular arms, a wide sail growing on his back, his face becoming long and crocodilian, feathers became scales. A form I would recognize anywhere: Spinosaurus Aegyptus.

The brown baggers scattered. One dinosaur they could handle, but thirteen? Not a chance! Together, we watched the remaining five or so survivors flee into the stock room as we posed epically on a thousand foot mountain made of their corpses. Any that weren’t fast enough were picked up in Bokrug’s massive jaws and flipped up into the air, only to be swallowed whole like gingerbread pancakes! Our remaining troops, few as there were, flocked to join us.

We’d won.

The words felt weird on my lips, my brain still trying to grasp what just happened.

We’d won.

Yet I couldn’t deny it: somehow, we’d kicked out the most powerful company in Pennsylvania.

“WE’VE WON!”

Bokrug bellowed majestically into the air, his voice ancient and primeval The rest of the birds, dinosaurs, shopping carts, and whoever else was in our slapdash army joined in:

“WE WON! WE WON! WE WON!”

And they carried me out of the store on their wings like I was some kind of rock star.

                                                             .   .   .

           That night, we partied. And by partied I mean set out the spoils of our war (snack chips and pretzels, mostly) while everyone stood awkwardly around the punch bowl, not knowing what to say (for guys who wore party hats all the time, LARP geese sure don’t know how to hold a conversation). Bokrug especially seemed interested in going to the little dino’s room and staying there a really long time. As for me, I stared into one of the barbeque fires we’d set around the place for lighting, plotting my next move. Hilda and whatever we’d put in Ms. Hoebag’s body were running the camp like a Siberian Gulag; in the middle of it all was my ticket back to reality, and by extension, my Gameboy Advance.

And, y’know, Mom was probably worried sick about me.

After half an hour of brisk walking, I found the bathroom door. I knocked twice.

“Bokrug, you in there?”

“My apologies,” bellowed the dinosaur, “but it seems as a final act of resistance, the minions of darkness burned all the toilet paper, so that we may never properly use their waste depository facilities.”

Sighing, I shoved some party napkins under the door.

“These do not seem to be the papers I seek. Are you certain these will work?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

One flush later, Bokrug barreled out, knocking the door off its’ hinges.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied, heading in myself.

Bokrug cocked his head to the side, the way birds do when they’re curious.

“And why would you leave paradise? With the waters of the Sacred Springs in our grasp, we shall soon surpass even the empire of Tako Shak in power!”

I shook my head, strategically positioning Mr. Weenie over the dung pit, letting loose. Bullseye. “Bok, I want to stay, but my Mom and Gameboy are at home, and I’m sure as heck my dirty rotten little brother isn’t going to give them company.”

The dinosaur could only stare in awed amazement as I epically exited the loo, piece of toilet paper attached to my shoe. “Long story short, I’m going to summer camp. Wanna join me?”

The dinosaur shook his crocodilian head.  “While the idea of devouring communist elementary schoolers does pique my interest, my responsibilities are to my people. I cannot leave them leaderless at such an incredible time.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling a little bit damped down. “There’ll be all the communist turds you can eat.”

“Watterson, you have helped me when I needed it most, but you have your family, and I must care for mine. Surely, you understand?”

And for the first time I thought about how I had left Hilda at summer camp. I wondered how she was holding on now that Shatner and I had left.  

But before I could head on my way, the old water lizard had one last surprise in store for me.  “However, there is one gift I can give you.”

Holding out a scaly hand, I saw the grow capsules I’d filched off Wegmart, now turned into tiny sponge dinosaurs that galloped across he palm.

“My apologies, they shrunk in the sun.”

You’d think I’d be upset, but I wasn’t worried. Not at all.

                                                            .   .   .

           And so we went on our quest: me and twelve grow-sponge saurian mercenaries from hell. We walked along a dirt road for about twelve hours before, as luck would have it, along trundled a Systo delivery truck, the same kind that delivered the crap food to camp. Hitchhiking wasn’t as hard as I thought (having dinosaur claws makes you surprisingly persuasive!), and soon me and the dinosaurs were crammed into a cardboard box in the semitrailer.

And so I sat in the dark, curled up inside a cardboard box meant for Styrofoam containers trying to formulate the master plan to get my body back. And by formulate a master plan I mean trying not to laugh at the Spongeboy jokes that would randomly pop into my head and focus, darn it!

Instead, I found myself drifting to sleep as the truck rolled across the winding backroads leading to fate, to destiny, to the thing that had started this all…

                                                  Summer Camp.

(Okay, so maybe I started it all by putting firecrackers in Dad’s cereal, but hey, I wasn’t the one who forced a young, innocent mind to watch Barney the ‘Dinosaur’. ‘Shudder’)

                                     Part IV: MegaMart of Darkness: End

(Author’s Note: To everyone who’s read this far: thank you for hanging with me all this time! It really does mean a lot to me! Anyways, as it stands, I’m not quite happy with the final arc, so I’ll be taking a month’s hiatus to maybe fine-tune it a little bit. Until then, thank you so much for staying with this story, and see you soon!)

[carterthornton]

The Third Wave | Chapter Twenty: Punishment and Reunion

        "Arrgh! Christ!" Aiko winced as Ms. Fawkes pulled an icepack away from her wrist, proceeding to gently wrap the sprained forearm with a compression bandage.

       "Aw, don't be a baby, lass," Ms. Fawkes chuckled as she put a clip on the bandage, holding it in place. "There, good as new. Well... not quite, but you'll live." Ms. Fawkes got up from her stool and browsed the shelves, searching for anti-inflammatory medication (she had misplaced it the day before, and hadn't searched for it yet). Luckily, hiding behind a few other containers were the meds she was looking for, and she brought them over to Aiko, who sat on Ms. Fawke's medical bed in the center of the room. "Here we go!" Ms. Fawkes said as she handed Aiko her medicine. "These are anti-inflammatories- take em' for pain and swelling, but use in moderation, alright? Follow the instructions to the letter; I don't want to send to send ya to the hospital."

       "No prob, Ms. Fawkes," Aiko nodded, clutching her bandage tightly to make sure it was secure. "Thanks."

       "Yur welcome," Ms. Fawkes grinned, rushing over to Maeve, who sat off on the side in a lounger, awaiting treatment. "Now, onto my most frequent customer!" Ms. Fawkes almost seemed to skip over to Maeve, rolling the dragon-girl closer to Aiko as she hummed to herself. "Don't be followin' in the footsteps of this clown here..." Ms. Fawkes whispered to Aiko as she flipped Maeve over, examining her wound. "She's a bit of a loose cannon."

       "Yeah, I figured that much," Aiko giggled, Maeve grumbling under her breath. "How does her wound look? A member of my team treated it with his Mark. Has it healed at all?"

       "Well, he treated it right- plucked the shrapnel out and used a natural disinfecting agent to kill bacteria. Trouble is he didn't cover it up, and it's got a bit a dirt all in it." Ms. Fawkes walked over to a sink in the corner of the room, washing her hands vigorously before putting on medical gloves. She grabbed a pair of cleaned tweezers, picking out tiny pieces of dirt that were hidden in Maeve's wound. Unfortunately, some pieces were trapped; Maeve's enhanced healing had already begun to take effect and was quickly closing the injury with a new layer of skin. "Hmm... looks like I'll only be able to get out the exposed pieces. You're already healin' up."

       "Of course I am, I'm a Mythical Beast Mark-user," Maeve announced, prideful in the unique abilities her Mark granted.

       "Careful, Maeve..." Ms. Fawkes warned her, placing wet cloth on Maeve's wound. "I've treated countless characters like yourself who thought their Mark could protect em' from anythin'. Better healin' doesn't mean invincibility."

       Just then, Ms. Steele walked into Ms. Fawke's office, snorting under her breath as she saw Maeve on the bed once again. "Oh boy."

       "Robot-lady!" Yuko clapped as soon as she caught a glimpse of Ms. Steele's arms, standing close to Aiko.

       "Hey, Steely, whatcha doin' in here?" Gin's voice became sweeter as she turned to Ms. Steele, who sat down on a chair near the door.

       "Just here for a check-up is all- arm's on the fritz again," Ms. Steele replied, rolling her shoulder a few times and clenching her metal fist. She then popped her head up to get a better view of Maeve's leg, scoffing at the reckless dragon's new scars. "You gotta slow it down, kid. You'll get hurt if you keep this up."

       "Says the woman with cybernetics..." Maeve muttered.

       "She's right, ya know? You can't go rushin' into battle without any concern for safety, it's dangerous," Ms. Fawkes added as she slowly rubbed the damp cloth against Maeve's leg, mopping up any remaining dirt and debris whilst also cleansing the wound. "Listen to Ms. Steele, she's an expert when it comes to being reckless... right, cowgirl?" Gin shot Ms. Steele a naughty glance, teasing the veteran.

       "Shut yer trap, Potato-Head," Ms. Steele shook her head at Ms. Fawkes as she crossed her arms and leaned her head back against the wall, trying to hide the smile spreading across her face.

       "So, um..." Aiko treaded carefully with her next question, as she feared it would stir up unwanted emotions in Ms. Steele. "How did you get all those cybernetics?"

       "Yeah, tell us!" Yuko chimed in.

       "Ah, just got caught in an explosion- nothing epic or anything," Ms. Steele shrugged her shoulders, staring at the ground for a moment before continuing. "Typical injury on the battlefield."

       "Alrighty, lass, you're good as new," Ms. Fawkes declared as she finished bandaging Maeve's leg, handing her a package of extra bandages. "Here, make sure to switch em' when they get dirty."

       "Thank you," Maeve nodded, hopping off the medical bed.

       "You're very welcome," Ms. Fawkes beamed, looking over to Yuko. "How about you, sweetheart? Do you need anything patched up?"

       "Um..." Yuko checked her metal body for any scrapes or scratches; thankfully, nothing. "Nope!"

       "Hmm, I never did get either of your names..." Ms. Fawkes scratched her chin at Aiko and Yuko, sitting down on her office chair.

        Aiko stepped down from the medical bed and stood beside Yuko. "I'm Aiko Schmitt, and this is Yuko. She's err-... my sister."

       "Ah, I see the resemblance," Ms. Fawkes stated, noticing their similarities in face shape and body structure. " I can see who the athlete in the family is..." She snorted, pointing out Yuko's superior size and muscle mass.

       "Uh, yeah..." Aiko couldn't help but feel bullied for her mediocre height. "I'm not that short!"

       "Now, you guys run along to Headmaster Colter, he's got a bone to pick with the ya," Ms. Fawkes quickly shooed all three of them out into the hall, poking her head outside before closing it completely. "Have a good one!" And with that, Ms. Fawkes was free from a long day of tending injured students. "Bloody hell... I'm beat." She sighed, plopping back down on her office chair as she stared at the ceiling.

       "It must be damn tirin'- dealin' with all those reckless kid's injuries," Ms. Steele empathized with the exhausted nurse before her. "They're always so damn enthusiastic- gettin' into fights like that."

       "Were you any different at that age?" Ms. Fawkes smirked, bringing back old memories of their high school years.

       "Nope," Ms. Steele smirked as she tapped her metal hand against her leg. "But look where that got me, eh?"

       "You know it wasn't your fault- what happened to you," Ms. Fawkes reminded her like she had done countless times before. "Shit happens."

       "Yeah, yeah..." Ms. Steele brushed her off as she sat down on one of the medical beds, awaiting Ms. Fawke's healing touch. "Now, how about that check-up?"

       "Joy Steele... always so forward," Ms. Fawkes' voice became somewhat sultry, stirring up unwanted emotions in Ms. Steele.

       "What did I tell ya about callin' me 'Joy', Coal Cracker?" Ms. Steele's face flushed red as she forced a scowl.

       "Shut up and show me yur arm, Yeehaw," Ms. Fawkes giggled as she took Ms. Steele's forearm, raising it to see under her shoulder. "Hmm... not an expert with cybernetics, but it looks like ya got a dull magnet in there. You should check up with Billy downstairs, he'll patch you up."

       "Th-thanks..." Ms. Steele nodded as she clutched her left arm, testing its mobility.

      "Now, I'm curious... why didn't ya go right to Billy in the first place?" Ms. Fawkes bit her lower lip as she sat on Ms. Steele's lap, causing the poor gritty soldier to sweat from anxiety. "Did ya wanna ask me something, Maverick?"

      "W-well... I was wondrin' if we could maybe go somewhere tonight?" Ms. Steele slurred her words as the sweet aroma wafting off of Ms. Fawkes reached her nose, causing her to nearly go brain-dead.

      "Sounds good, A rúnsearc," Ms. Fawkes said in a bewitching voice as smooth as Irish cream, her amber eyes locking onto Ms. Steele's emerald gaze. "What did ya have in mind?"

       "Dinner? Maybe a movie?" Ms. Steele tried to calm herself down, but Ms. Fawkes made it exceedingly difficult to every hot and heavy breath she took. "I hear there's another Fast and Furious movie playin'."

       "It's a date then," Ms. Fawkes nodded as she skipped over to the door, locking it from the inside. "But first... I need a little time to unwind."

       "W-wait, here?!" Ms. Steele stuttered as Ms. Fawkes jumped on top of her like a cheetah pouncing on its prey. "Now?!"

       "Any complaints...?" Ms. Fawkes snickered drunkenly as she unbuttoned Ms. Steele's shirt, wrapping her long legs around the bumbling soldier's waist.

        "Uh..." Ms. Steele looked behind her lover, watching the door for a moment before finally giving in with a defeated grunt. "Ah, fuck it." A wild grin stretched across Ms. Steele's face as she grabbed Ms Fawkes and violently kissed her. "Ya fuckin' Clover."

       "Shut yur trap, Hick," Gin snapped back at her as she shut Joy up with another kiss. "I need some Fast and Furious right fuckin' here."

****

       Yuko held Aiko's hand as they entered the Headmaster's office, looking for Aiko's reassurance. "Ai-... Aiko?"

       "It's okay, Yuko. Don't be scared," Aiko calmed her little sister down, reaching up to pat Yuko on the head.

       "Oh... okay..." Yuko nodded as she looked all around the room, marveling at Headmaster Colter's odd taste in decoration. "Whoa, this is weird!"

       "An interesting design," Maeve affirmed Yuko's statement as she analyzed the space.

       "Not what you expected?" The Headmaster guffawed with his low voice, adding a jolly tone to the situation. "Come in!"

       The Headmaster's office was primarily designed with a 50's art deco style in mind, taking inspiration from jazz clubs and Hollywood glam of that era. Portraits of 50's pop-icons lined the walls where one would expect a bland still life painting to reside; Marilyn Monroe, Humphrey Bogart, Chuck Berry, they all were hung up in frames. There was even a jukebox close to the Headmaster's desk playing 'Maybe ' by The Ink Spots, and it's sound provided a very comforting ambience to the room that incited nostalgia in people that had never even experienced that generation.

       "Oh my God, is that-?" Aiko cut herself off as she took a gander at the Frank Sinatra album inside the jukebox, almost forgetting the reason why she came to the Headmaster's office.

      "Hush, buffoon!" Maeve silenced Aiko with a hushed scream.

      "Yep, it's original," Headmaster Colter answered her as he laid back in his chair, taking a deep breath. "Cost an arm and a leg to find. You like em'?"

       "Ah, yep... I like his music," Aiko nodded, trying to keep a serious face on. "So, um.. down to business then?"

       "Yeah, let's get to it," The Headmaster grabbed reading glasses from a compartment in his desk to read Officer Grey's report on the day's events. "So, you all can confirm these reports were true? You were all involved in today's incident and you actively went against a direct order given to you by one of the teaching staff?"

       "Yes." They all nodded.

       "Alright..." The Headmaster sighed, getting off his seat with an exasperated groan. "You're smart, honest students- that much is clear -but you disobeyed an order from a superior. That won't fly if you get out in the field one day; your commanding officer won't have time for any of your malarkey." He folded up his glasses and placed them back in the desk, slowly stretching as he got back up to relieve all the stress on his back that built up over the day. "Aiko, you're new here, so I hope you'll only have to hear this lecture once, but you..." He shot Maeve an annoyed look as he sat back down in his chair. "You've caused the teaching staff nothing but trouble since you first got here. Damn it, MacDonnell! You're a star student with stellar grades, but you've got to learn a little perspective. You can't just go barging in like you know everything because you don't!"

       "Yes, sir..." The fire inside Maeve seemed to dissipate, leaving her cold and emotionless; she simply stared off into space and nodded. "I'm sorry, sir."

       "Sorry isn't good enough anymore, and it's not good enough for your father either," Headmaster Colter shook his head as he packed up the papers of Grey's report into its file, placing it in his desk drawer. "My apologies, Maeve, but I'm going to have to give you a suspension to get my message across."

       Maeve was shocked back into reality by Colter's declaration. "Thank you, Headmas-."

       "There must be some other way, Headmaster. Maeve may have disobeyed orders, but she saved all those officers today! There must be some alternative to suspension...?" Aiko voiced her opinion on the matter, trying to shield Maeve from such a severe punishment. "Right?"

       "I suppose there could be..." The Headmaster scratched his chin as he thought for a moment. "Yes, I think I know the perfect alternative, though, I'm not sure if you'll be satisfied with it."

       "W-what is it...?" Aiko asked, cursing her conscious for covering Maeve's tail so quickly.

       "For the alternative, Ms. MacDonnell could live with you for the rest of the school week," Colter groomed his beard as he continued. "Yes... I think it would be a good way for Ms. MacDonnell to be more cooperative with her peers."

       "No, no, no!" Maeve waved her hands in the air as she voiced her concern. "I'm not going to live with..." She leaned in closer to Colter, secretly gesturing over to Aiko and Yuko. "Those two..."

      "Fine, then you take the suspension," Colter said as he tapped a pencil against his desk.

      "Um-!" Maeve trailed off as she weighed her options carefully. "I'll... take the alternative."

       "Yay, a sleepover!" Yuko cheered as she hugged Maeve tightly, completely ignoring her personal space.

       "Unhand me, you fool!" Maeve shouted at her captor, wheezing as Yuko hugged tighter. "Hrrnn!"

       "Yuko, what did I tell you about people's 'bubbles'?!" Aiko yelled at her sister, trying to pry Maeve out of her grasp. "Yuko!"

****

       In a storage warehouse in Rock Bay, in the Burnside District of Victoria, a door swung open, revealing Damian on the other side along with his fellow comrades. Reika, Camila, and Varg followed Damian closely, making sure he was safe from harm. Louise and Alistair tagged along behind them, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

       "Are we really gonna be meetin' these wankas, Damian?" Alistair spoke up, mumbling into The Father's ear.

       "These two are not 'wankas', they're old friends of the cause- the original Brother and Sister that joined eight years ago," Damian replied as he removed his sunhat. "Reika remembers them well."

       "I do! I'm so excited to see them all again! It's been so long!" Reika held her hands to her heart, reminiscing on the good times she shared with her old family. "Oh, Ara's gonna freak out when he sees how big I got after all these years!"

       "Yeah... big," Alistair gawked at Reika's rear as he trailed behind her.

       "Indeed, she shall," Damian let out a light chuckle as they all turned down a hall surrounded by wooden crates. "Please, try to be nice, everyone. We wouldn't want to be impolite to our elders."

       The Kin gathered at a clearing in the middle of the warehouse created just recently, as evident by the dust outlines on the floor which used to house various containers. The missing crates seemed to be arranged into two makeshift thrones, and sitting on top of them were two grizzled looking veterans. The one on the left was a woman in her early thirties, a Korean woman with very short, periwinkle hair that was done up in flapper curls. Despite her obvious Asian heritage (brown eyes, round cheeks, and a short nose), she had a very Western-looking body type and face shape. She had a long slender figure with tall legs and a very sharp chin, and she had a lengthy neck as well. The crane-like woman wore a purple tweed jacket over a red tank top cut above her stomach, with black denim jeans to tie it all together.

       "Bonjour, all!" She greeted them with a very dainty wave, gracefully crossing a leg over the other as she fiddled with a large steel needle in her hand.

       *Ara Kae Toutou (IMOP Bounty: 40,350,000 UND)*

        "Ah, Madame Toutou..." Damian kissed Ara's outstretched hand as she descended from her throne. "As graceful as ever."

       "Merci, Mousieur Dreyfus," Ara laughed, kissing him on either side of his face.

       "Oh, cariño... not more of that Frenchy-French garbage," The hulking man on the right grumbled with a thick Mexican accent as he rolled his eyes.

       The man occupying the next throne- aside from his height -was the exact opposite of Ara. His black hair was slicked back with Brill cream, and he had big and bold sideburns that complimented his bushy moustache. He was a swollen mass of raw muscle and testosterone, standing just under Varg's height, but far outclassing him in the brawn category. His broad neck was like a pyramid, and his barrelled chest stuck out of his tight, grey t-shirt. Each of his titanic arms was the size of Varg's torso, but his legs were fairly short compared to the rest of his body, though, they were still well-built. The man had a rigid face with a solid jaw line, and his eyes were dark brown; he appeared to squint most of the time as well. His black leather jacket just barely contained his musculature, and his tight blue jeans were done up with a spiffy brown belt made from the finest leather. The sleeves on his jacket were rolled up to accommodate huge metal cuffs on his forearms that looked as if they weighed at least a ton each, and he also wore modified hiking boots with heavy metal soles. He looked as tough as they come.

       *Pablo Hernandez (IMOP Bounty: 53,000,000 UND)*

       "Hola, Pablo," Damian gave Pablo a firm but cautious handshake as he stepped off his seat, wary of the raw strength behind his grip.

       "Hola, mi amigo!" Pablo pulled Damian in and hugged him like a brother would. "You look well, Damian! Have you been workin' out?"

       "I've had my share of field experience in these eight years," Damian replied, gesturing to his moustache. "You've grown facial hair, I see."

       "Ah, yes! You like it, eh? It took me a while," Pablo chuckled as he walked over to meet the rest of his old team. "Who are the newcomers?"

       "Of course, I must introduce you two. Come," Damian sorted his allies into a huddle, forming an amalgamation of Kin members, both new and old. "For those of you who don't know, this is Pablo; he was the first member I recruited all those years ago when Reika and I began, 'The Brother'." Damian then placed a hand on Ara's shoulder. "And Ara is the second recruit; she once bared the title of 'Sister' before you, Camila. But, since their roles have been filled, you shall refer to these two as your 'Grandmother' and 'Grandfather'."

       "It is good to work with you all, mes amies," Ara giggled delightedly as she struck up a conversation with Reika, whom she hadn't seen in years. "Ma parole, ma parole! You have grown into a beautiful woman!"

       "Thank you, Ara. It really has been too long," Reika felt an ego boost from Ara's compliment as she placed a hand on her hip. "How are you? How was Paris?"

       "Très bien, très bien, Cherry Blossom! Oh, ow wonderful Paris was! I will tell you more when we arrive at our new abode," Ara held back her enthusiasm, knowing full-well that Damian was about to get down to business. "Let us begin zen, oui?"

       "Yes..." Damian cleared his throat before continuing. "In light of our recent loss, I now realize just how different Victoria is from Vancouver. The population density of Mark-users is simply astounding. Though the IMOP forces are spread out far and wide across the island, there are many students at the academy that we may need to keep tabs on in the future. I must confess, we are horribly outmatched in this new environment, but we will adapt, like always. And so that is why I've invited some old faces back into the fold, you see."

       "So, what now?" Camila asked.

       "What is imperative to our cause as of right now is locating and liberating the Mythical Beast Mark-user hidden somewhere in this city by The Paladins," Damian answered.

       "And what do you know of this Mark-user?" Pablo inquired, crossing his arms as he groomed his moustache.

       "We know of her name, Isabelle. However, we know nothing of the Mark she carries- only rumours telling of its potential to aid entire armies in their advance," Damian explained in a grave tone of voice. "We cannot let a Mark-user of that calibre fall into the hands of The Paladins. If this girl is utilized properly by those fools, there's no telling the carnage they might inflict on fellow Mark-users."

       "Damn Paladins..." Varg spat on the ground at the mere mention of their name.

       "She is being held in a bunker somewhere underneath the Greater Victoria area," Damian sighed, tapping his thumbs together. "It's vague but at least it's something."

       "A bunker? Aren't zare many of zeez in za city?" Ara interjected whilst simultaneously inspecting her nails for any cracks or scrapes.

       "Yes, there are, which is exactly why I've called upon you two. We need more boots on the ground if we ever hope to find Isabelle," Damian responded, scratching his chin at the thought of such a large-scale undertaking. "And to start, we must work our way up The Paladin's chain of command until we finally sever the head of the demon, Peter Bishop. Once he's gone, the gang violence against Mark-users in Victoria shall be cleft in two."

       "The Master and Commander of the West Coast Paladins? Dios mío... how we gonna do that? That guy's a ghost." Pablo shook his head, dreading such an idea.

       "Like Damian said: we work our way up the food chain from local gangs, to grunts, to knights, and so on," Louise offered her support for Damian's plan. "It will take time, but it will eventually yield results."

       "Well, I ain't got better things to do anyways..." Pablo snickered, feeling all nostalgic as he heard the enthusiasm of Damian's group. "Let's do this."

       "Oui! Let us embark!" Ara cheered as she outstretched her hand into the middle of their circle.

       "Yes, let us begin," Damian smiled as he placed his hand on top of Ara's, the rest of his team joining in. "For the family..."

       "For humanity." They all chanted, hopeful of the future.

       "Ha ha! A happy day!" Pablo let out a hearty laugh as he hugged Varg and Camila. "We got any tequila at the new crib, eh? I'm in the mood for a party!"

       "And hopefully a shower..." Camila mumbled to herself as her nostrils puckered, catching a whiff of Pablo's overpowering musk.