#and mr knife hands; i knew that glasses gesture was catching something in my memory and at the reveal i was like ah of course

[softness-and-shattering]

Why are all the men on one piece so hot?! help

[frost-or-fire]

"I'll Be Good"

Part 2 - Dawn

The jingle of the bell signalled that, yet, another customer have came in and by the smell and irritating sound of voices, they were mundies.

Their tones were a bit too loud and cheery for a Tuesday morning, wearing smiles that seemed too fake.

Bigby tries to focus on drinking his black coffee, tries to pay attention to what Snow was telling him, but there were far too many sounds going on in The Mornin' Joe's Diner.

That or it was the fact that Bigby knew something wasn't right. His stomach twisted and churned with his inner Wolf itching and gnawing to get out.

"-The Witness I interviewed last night told me they heard something in the room next to--Bigby?"

The Sheriff blinked and looks back to Ms. Whites piercing blue eyes, seeming to have stared off for far too long.

"Hm?"

"Were you paying any attention? Or was the lack of sleep catching up to you?" She huffed, cutting up her hash browns with a small hint of aggression in the hand holding the knife.

He gave an exaggerated huff in return, "No, just being observant."

She rolls her eyes, taking a bite out of her breakfast before turning her attention to the manila folder. "Well, you can observe and multitask at the same time, right Mr. Wolf?"

Bigby gives an amused smile before going to cut his sunny side eggs. "Well, I'm done observing now so.." He gives a small gesture to her before taking a bite of said food.

"Right, so," She places her utensils down and pulled a paper that had a photo clipped to it. "As I was saying, the witness has explained to me that she have heard a commotion next door to her apartment..."

The noirette pulls the picture - that also had some bio on the witness - away from the perfectly typed essay-ed paper that had information from the brief interview. There was a sound of papers crinkling in the motion of shifting over the table and soon the air was filled with its signature black ink smell you'd similarly catch when cracking a book open in a library.

Bigby takes the paper, abandoning his breakfast for the new assignment. His eyes skimmed over the description while Snow continue to talk.

"She invited me back to her place for a better inspection of the crime scene." Her piercing blue eyes lifted up to look at him now. "This is where you come in, you ask the bigger questions and with your keen eyes we might see some clues to guide us along."

"Only problem is," Bigby rests the papers down, unsettled and antsy in the action when he looks back up to her. "The witness doesn't like me to say the least.."

Snow sighed, restraining an eye roll in the process. "Look I understand that you and her don't get along but-"

"Red hates my guts, not to mention Woody put stones in my guts. She isn't going to cooperate with me." Bigby says, finality in his tone to demand the ending of the conversation.

In which Snow was not letting it happen. She reaches to her glass, taking a long sip from the citrus juice. "I know you two don't meet eye to eye-"

"-Figuratively and Literally."

"-but we need this Bigby. At least seem tolerable to get some answers from her, How hard can it be?"

"Uh, very. I'm the 'Big Bad Wolf' who impersonated her grandmother. How can you not see that in a person who clearly holds a grudge against me?" Bigby grumbled, glaring down at his food intensely. Aggressively (penetrating) poking his fork into the yoke center of his egg.

Snow sighed, cutting her food up in little pieces with the manners of elegance and grace that she couldn't shake off. "I know, I know, but maybe this could be a chance to get forgiveness from her. 'Bury the axe between you two,' some might say.."

Bigby shakes his head, engrossed with making his own crime scene out of his meal. "She won't forgive me, even if I do show up at her place with a basket of sweets..."

Ms. White peers up at him with a soften look in her eye, daintily reaching over the table to hold his clenched hand. Squeezing it ever so gently like he was about to break at any moment.

In that single second, all time, all sounds became so far and gone where everything narrowed down to that singular second. As cliche as it sounded, the wolf couldn't find it in himself to brush it off, snort at the corniness, he just felt so at peace. Her slightly cold, petite, small palm holding his more large, rough, warm one like an anchor in a raging sea. Like a very life line that gave him air to breathe in the midst of that storm.

And soon that moment was ruined when the door bell jingled yet again.

Their hands draw back like touching burning flames to nurse an injury. Bigby clears his throat, looking down at his plate of food while Ms. White goes to comb her hand through her hair with her blue eyes glancing off.

"Right, so, where does Red live exactly?" Bigby asks, biting back retorts he could be saying to avoid further interactions with the young girl.

Snow, relieved that she doesn't have to put up another round of persuasion, gently taps the paper she handed over with one of her manicured nails. "Its all there, information that you'd need to talk to her."

She looks back up to him, seeing the unease and slight frown on his bushy brow. "Don't worry, I'll be at your side to make it less... Unpleasant.."

Bigby gives a dry smile, "As if having your enemy show up at your door is pleasant at all.."

Snow doesn't do much to hold back the eye roll and returns to eating, leaving the conversation at that in favor of not having cold hash browns.

And in about that moment, the Sheriff trails off into his own little world. His distant gaze shifts out to the big window nect to their booth to watch the cars go by and the little people who walk on the sidewalk.

The rain has came to a steady sprinkle unlike the heavy down pour earlier that morning. The roads were slicked with the residue that the cars were going at a slow pace.

The air was sticky and moist that it almost leave him uncomfortable from not showering the past few days and unchanged clothes. Sweat dried to his skin among other fluids that can go without mentioning.

But deep down, it brings him back home.

It resurfaces memories of his mother scolding him as a child whom returned to the den caked in mud. And those memories bring back memories of his siblings who would race through the forest. Testing each other out. Seeing who out of all of them was the fastest.

He smiles to himself, his eyes focusing once more to notice a figure outside the window.

Familiarizing the brown curls that stick out in wild directions. The careless strut they walk as if with purpose.

Bigby frowns, his posture stiffening up some as he observed the person who was making their way to the Diners' door. He sees the strong built of lean muscle under the not so covering clothes the person was wearing.

By the time the door opens, the room was filled with a familiar smell of moss, grass, and earth. The scent sends him reeling back into a time of era that was so familar yet so old and lost that its close to foreign.

His stomach drops when he catches the person's eyes and finally puts a name to the face.

The person, who's a young woman, also stiffened. Leveling his stare and can almost hear the few muttered words under her breath.

"Shit.."

Snow perks up and looks towards her partner.

"Bigby, what's wro-"

"Dawn."

[araniaexumae]

when the music dies out (you should still take me home) - chapter 3

EARLIER CHAPTERS UNDER THIS TAG

READ ON AO3

Memories

James knew the dark corridors of the 5th floor like the back of his hand. He’d hidden from Filch in the nook behind Gunhilda de Gorsemoor’s statue countless times, and had once enchanted the tapestry of Arthur’s knights in the eastern wing to sing insults at the Slytherins each time one would walk by. In his fourth year, he’d carefully studied it with his friends for their map. In his seventh year, he’d learned that the dark nook between the statue in the fifth floor’s western wing was a very common snogging spot, and he’d learned it by patrolling there every third night with none other than the lovely Head Girl, Lily Evans. They had even started a bet, counting if they would find more than twenty couples before the winter holidays. Lily had bet against it while James was confident they would reach the number.

“I think I’ve lost count. We were at what, fifteen already? So only five left.” James stated confidently.

Lily shook her head. “Six left. We were at fourteen on Tuesday.”

James put his hand on his chin, scrunching up his face in pretend contemplation. “Hmmm…  Are you sure? I could have sworn it was fifteen. No wait! Sixteen, even! Remus told us about McGrath and Adams this morning. He caught them yesterday.”

“It doesn’t count. We have to catch them together.”, she reminded him, even though both knew fully well that James was aware of the rule. “Stop trying to cheat, it’s not cute.”

“You wound me, Evans. I’m always cute.”

As they were approaching the statue in question, James started walking slowly and gestured to Lily to be quiet, hoping to hear two students in the heat of the action. Unfortunately for him, the corridor was entirely silent. Lily smirked. She turned towards him, walking backwards.

“Well, well Mister Potter, looks like the infamous snogging corner is unfortunately empty today.”

Instead of answering, James grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the old witch’s statue. She let him guide her, leaning against the wall and looking up at him beneath her eyelashes. The young man leaned even closer, putting his hands on either side of her body, caging her in.

“Unfortunately? On the contrary, Evans, I would say it’s very fortunate.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips with his, feeling her sigh against his mouth. Her arms went up to tangle in his dark curls, and his own hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him.

After a few minutes of glorious kissing, he stood to his full height again, letting his hand drop to hers and guiding her out of the small alcove.

“So, officially fifteen now, huh? You can’t say that we weren’t both here to see that.”

Lily’s mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’, her green eyes narrowing.

“Unbelievable”, she said, crossing her arms over her uniform. “You’ll regret that, Potter. You’ll see what happens next time you try to kiss me.”

He put his hands on her waist, one finger dipping under the waistband of her pleated skirt. She let out a sigh.

“You know I love a challenge. How about we check right now?”

Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked towards the door to open it. “Thank you again for coming, James. Come back tomorrow at nine with Mr Black. I’ll explain the details then.”

“Will Miss Evans be there?” James made a mental note to observe how Sirius always managed to sound so nonchalant. Right now, he sounded like a boy with a poorly concealed crush.

“She will be.” Dumbledore stayed silent for a while, as if allowing James one more opportunity to back out. But James wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of winning. She didn’t affect him anymore. He wouldn’t let her.

“Great. Goodnight, Sir.” With those last words, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. He adjusted his glasses and collar before walking out of the building and outside of the anti-apparition wards’ effect.

He had one night to get ready to face her again. Thank Merlin tonight was Pixies night. He could use a firewhiskey or two.

“Europe? I knew there must have been secret missions the old man wasn’t telling us about.” Sirius grumbled, staring at his almost empty glass. It’d taken James almost a full pint to tell his friends about this afternoon’s meeting.

“Of course there are, Dumbledore’s always been a man of secrets. I wonder where she was in Europe.” Remus pondered.

“France, maybe. I’ve got a lot of pretentious relatives there.” Sirius suggested.

“I think I heard Moody mention something about Austria once.” Peter added.

“Can we get back to the important part, please?” James cut in, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The ‘Evans being back’ part?”

His brother raised his eyebrows. “I thought we weren’t allowed to mention her name anymore.”

“Well it’s going to be hard not saying her name when I’m bloody working with her, don’t you think?” James rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.

“Can’t you tell Dumbledore you don’t want to?” Peter asked, before trying to take a gulp of his drink and realizing he’d finished it already.

“Too late. He asked me already and I said it was fine.” James muttered.

“Why did you do that?” Peter questioned.

“Because he’s an idiot, that’s why.” Sirius answered in his stead. James let his head fall to the table, his hands around it.

“She really did a number on you, didn’t she, Prongs?” Peter asked.

“I think we can all remember that, Wormy”, Remus said, putting one hand on James’ shoulder.

Sirius gave a short, cynical laugh. “That’s one way of putting it. I thought our Prongs would finish the school year in the dorms.”

“Let’s not twist the knife, okay?” Remus suggested. He got up. “How about a second glass?”

James had been avoiding her all day, ever since her sudden ‘we should talk’ in the Great Hall that morning. He’d dashed off to class, claiming he had a question for Flitwick and he skipped lunch, stating he needed to go over the quidditch training schedule when everyone knew everything was meticulously planned since the summer break. However, he couldn’t find excuses all day and she’d finally cornered him in the library after classes, where he’d been hiding successfully for an hour. She sat down in front of him.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find you in here alone.”

“This essay is really kicking my arse, if I don’t finish it today I never will.” He responded. “Did you do it already? Why am I even asking? Of course you did. Did you mention phoenix tears? I’m not sure it’s not off topic.” He rambled on, not looking up from the paragraph he’d read three times since he’d noticed her approaching.

“James.” He looked at her and wished he hadn’t. She was biting on the inside of her cheek, her eyes imploring him to listen. He put down his quill.

“Can we go somewhere private?” She asked. He recalled the last time she’d asked that, an inviting blush on her cheeks, her tone a lot more teasing.

He looked around for any student that might be present. “Is this not private enough? There’s no one here.”

“I’d rather talk in the heads office if that’s all right with you.” She answered, her voice small. It felt wrong. He thought Lily Evans should never be thought of as small.

“Sure.” He gathered his things, piling them on the table and taking them in his arms, balancing it all carefully so as not to let his quill or his ink bottle fall. Once again, he regretted not taking his bag.

They exited the library and walked in silence to their shared office. James knew what the situation looked like, but he didn’t want to believe it. There was no reason for Lily to be mad at him. Just last week, they’d gone on a wonderful date in Hogsmeade, just the two of them. Had he forgotten some kind of anniversary? He was racking his brain to find what it could be, to no avail.

They reached the door and Lily whispered the password, letting him go in first. He did, turning around towards her as soon as she was in the room with him.

He tried putting on a suave tone. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Lily shook her head sadly. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

He tried to take her hands in his but she took a step back. He kept his hands in the air, feeling like he shouldn’t move anymore.

“It’s over, James.”

[christinky]

Help | Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Pairing: Dad!Tony x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Depression, Alcohol. A SUPER SURPRISE thats pretty obvious but I’d like to think its shocking.

Summary: You are Tony Starks daughter and Peter is one of your good friends. You don’t like to be helped until one day, when you aren’t able to refuse it. Even Tony might need to ask for it, a lot of it, to help save you. 

A/N: Thanks for putting up with me. Please reblog if you love me. Or don’t. If you don’t we can’t be friends. Thanks. 

Its been almost 2 years since you went missing.... Sleeping has been easier for Tony, still not back to normal. He still has nightmares, still lies awake thinking of where you could be. Pepper and him decided to delay the wedding, they still have not set a date. The thought of you not being there crushes them, so they decided to just postpone.

Rhodey still comes by to check on Tony, make sure his depression is under control, and to just be with him to keep his mind off things. Once and a while, he can’t and ends up in Tony’s workshop, where Tony made it into his search headquarters. He hasn’t given up on you yet. Maps, newspaper articles, and photos now cover the walls. All information that could lead him to where you are. Rhodey likes to help, he wants to find you too, its just hard on him to see Tony like this.

Sitting in the kitchen, Tony pours himself a glass of whiskey as he waits for his dinner. “Um Hey, Mr. Stark” Peter walks into the room with an awkward wave and a shy smile. Tony has a surprised, yet confused look on his face seeing the boy.

Peter doesn’t come around as often. Since the official retirement of Iron Man the boys didn’t have much of a reason to get together anymore. Tony hasn’t wanted anything to do with the whole superhero stuff. “Well, this is a surprise” Tony said as he took a sip of his drink, “what’s up kid?” He gestures to the empty seat next to him.

Taking a seat Peter’s nerves start to settle. “Oh, nothing. Just.. just haven’t seen you in a while sir. Thought I would swing by to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for stopping by.” He doesn’t like talking about it, he doesn’t want pity. Especially from an 18 year old boy. Peter is caught off guard with the response, his shoulders hunch over and you can see regret in his eyes. He is back to being the shy, nervous boy again.

The sound of heels echoes from the hallway, Pepper, however there are more footsteps along with her. Peter looks over his shoulder, reacting to the sound. Tony rests his face in his palm, not in the mood for more visitors. Immediately he is taken back, sitting up straight with wide eyes. 

In walks the rest of the Avengers, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Vision with Bucky Barnes. “We have to talk.” Steve’s voice is serious.

Peter is starstruck, also a little embarrassed from the last encounter. He turned to look back at Tony, who now has a stern look on his face.

“What can I do for you?” He leans back against the counter, facing Steve and the rest of them. 

“Tony, something happened. Its Hydra.” Steve looks over at Bucky, giving him Tony’s attention.

All eyes are on Bucky, “A new super soldier emerged 2 days ago, they attacked tried to attack me in Wakanda. Hydra put a lot of work in this one, they must have been injected with the last of the serum Steve and I had. But” Bucky paused, “They also have the same powers as Wanda. I probably wouldn’t have made it but once they entered the barrier, the Wakandan army showed up. Scared them off I guess.” 

“So Hydra is up to something again?” Tony raised a brow, “Nothing you guys haven’t handled before. Good luck” With that he stands to leave the room. 

“We need you Tony.” Steve goes to grab his shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. 

“You can have the kid. Peter congrats, you’re an Avenger now.” He shakes Steve’s hand off his shoulder and tries to walk away. 

Peter adjusts his posture to sit up straight and tall with a smirk. No one was paying attention to him, they are watching Tony. 

“Come on Ton....” Steve was cut off.

“Listen, Iron Man is no more. It’s done Rogers. Done.” there is anger in his eyes, his voice was stern.

“I thought you wanted to help people” 

Tony is mad now, he raises his voice. “I couldn’t save her how can I save anyone else!? How am I supposed to help other people while my own daughter is still out there. I can’t even find her.” His eyes start to swell, his breathing is heavy from yelling, “If it wasn’t for that stupid suit (Y/N) would still be here, safe.” 

Tony leaves the room in a huff. Everyone looks concerned with sadness in their eyes, looking at one another. Pepper goes chasing after him. 

Steve takes a deep breath before turning to face the rest. “Well kid. Are you ready?” He looks at Peter who nods ready to go. 

*****************************************************************************************************

“Whoever that is, they are putting up a good fight. The fact that they ran really shows that they haven’t given up and still fighting them.” Bucky explains. 

They are in the jet, on their way to Hydra. “Okay. Se we let Bucky and Wanda focus on their soldier, they have the most experience with this.” Steve commands. “Peter, if you can help web them up so they have a better chance. If not help Natasha and I on the ground. They will have gunman and soldiers fighting. Sam, Vision, you guys control things from the air.” 

They don’t know exactly what they are going into, all they know is that Hydra has missiles aimed at populated areas and important buildings, they have weapons and a super soldier. 

Once they land there is not much time to prepare. Shots are being fired at them, Hydra was prepared for them.  They knew they were coming. 

The door opens, Cap throws his shield to take some gunmen out. Nat and Bucky use opening between fires to take some shots as well. Peter uses his web shooters to disarm with the help of Wanda, Sam and Vision take to the sky. 

Once they got clear Wanda and Bucky make a B-line towards the super soldier, they were protecting the missiles as they prepared for launch. Looking at them Bucky gets flashbacks of the pain they put him through. He knows the pain in their eyes, he has a better look than before. 

The soldier is a girl, she looks young. Her hair is long and tangled, bags under her eyes, her eyes tell the story. They look tired, worn out, in pain, and asking for help. Suddenly, he sees a change in behavior, she is not angry, like a soldier. 

She wears fitted black pants, combat boots, a tight black jacket with a worn shirt with the hydra markings, a muzzle around her face only showing her eyes, and headphones. The headphones are either to control her more, keep her from hearing around her, or both he thinks to himself. 

Before they can get close the soldier uses her powers to launch various objects from her surroundings. Wanda tries her best to catch everything so Bucky can make his way closer. 

“Hey guys, wait up!” Peter comes swinging through to help them, only to be hit by a piece of debris Wanda missed. He went flying to the ground, hitting it hard. Neither of them being phased by spiderboy’s mishap.

Bucky tries to engage, maybe to remove the headphones to help Hydra lose some control. Before he gets too close he is pushed back by Peter. Peter gets back onto his feet, for a moment he thought he saw something in the soldier, he doesn’t know what it is but its something. 

“Try to web her hands, try to grab the headphones if you can.” Bucky is cold, solely focused on helping the soldier break free of Hydra. 

Peter nods, then shoots a web to her hands. He has one completely covered causing it to be useless for the time being. 

Using her free hand, she reaches into her pocket. In her hand is a knife. Holding the knife she cuts the webbing, knowing the right angle to weaken it enough to break.

Images flash into Peter’s mind, the memory of the rooftop. When he tried to help you from the paparazzi and you cut his webbing... the thoughts hit him like a ton of bricks. His body goes numb for a moment, looking closely at the soldier. His heart stops, he can’t look away, his eyes are empty for a moment as his jaw slightly drops. He isn’t able to move. He realizes that its you.  

Tag List: @m4shtyx @spiderlingsweb @mackvanstan Sorry there was someone else but I forgot to save your url. I’m so sorry forgive me :( 

[anuschkalova]

Simply and Sanely PART 4 (Jeremiah x Reader)

A/N: it’s finally here, Part 4! This chapter is slightly longer than the previous ones...but I hope you don’t mind! And besides: Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback! I really appreciate the kind words and it makes me so so happy knowing that there are people who enjoy reading this. ❤️ PS.: Please excuse any mistakes as English is not my native language. I’m still learning.

Now, without further ado enjoy Part 4! :) Jeremiah is awaiting you...

Summary: Y/N gets in trouble and Jeremiah helps her. But little does she know that he drags her into more trouble, making Y/N a part of his plans. Forcing her to enter the dangerous life of Gotham’s underworld...

Pairing: Jeremiah Valeska x Reader

Word count: 2, 212

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Previously:

You flinched as the wall opened up, revealing a hidden entrance. Your eyes widen.

"Step right up, my dear."

***

You felt like a mouse inside Jeremiah's maze. Trapped within those thick cement walls, you had no other choice than to follow him. Every turn he did seemed randomly, but he moved so quickly, without any hesitation that you knew Jeremiah mastered the maze’s structure - with all its paths, hide-outs and exits. Your eyes let go of his back to look up.

Security cameras on every corner captured your movement, their digital eyes seemingly staring at you.

They…-

Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Security cameras! Like those outside of the strip-club… Shit, what if the police views the material and discovers you? You were the last person who saw those bastards alive, turning you therefore into a precious witness. What would you tell them? The truth? A lie?

One thing was for sure: the decision was not yours to make, but Jeremiah’s. Your life was now in the palm of his hands, like a chessman he held you tight, playing his little game with you whose rules only Jeremiah knew.

Said man stopped in front of a metal door. His speedy fingers pressed some buttons on the key lock, making the door shift aside as if by magic. Jeremiah reached his arm out towards the room, gesturing you to go in first.

You entered the room with an unpleasant feeling. You were greeted by countless monitors, stacked on top of each other which showed the maze's paths. Two table lamps were the only source of light; one was placed on the huge desk in the middle to illuminate Jeremiah's work - papers with notes and sketches, you spotted a map of Gotham City in between them.  

„Is this your office?“, you asked into the silence, watching Jeremiah as he grabbed the edge of the table to lean over his work. His posture caused his jacket to tense at the back, but he didn't mind. His thoughts were already consumed by his designs and notes.

"Mh-hm", he just hummed. You took the cue from his taciturnity and busied yourself by examining his office some more. Your eyes spotted the little side table with alcohol on it and a sudden craving overwhelmed you.

„Go ahead, help yourself. You are in much need for a drink I am sure.“ Jeremiah fumbled with his hand casually while he was occupied studying his papers. You didn’t waist a second thought and poured yourself a drink.

"Ecco", Jeremiah then spoke into the room without raising his eyes. You frowned and almost dropped your glass when you spotted a woman standing on the opposite site. "Get our guest something...", he briefly overlooked your figure, "... more acceptable to wear. Please." You lowered your gaze, you were still wearing his coat with your short black dress underneath it.

The blonde woman nodded and headed out of the room. The door behind her closed, leaving you and the black-haired man alone this time.

You listened to her fainting footsteps before you took a greedy sip of the golden liquor. The unfamiliar burn made you cough immediately, bringing tears to your eyes, but you took another sip. And another one. Your nerves finally started to calm and for the first time since this whole incident you felt somewhat good.

"What do you want from me, Mr. Valeska?", you found the courage to ask, but you knew it was the alcohol speaking.

"Jeremiah. Please" , he insisted and you hesitated.

"... Jeremiah", you corrected yourself. It felt wrong addressing this criminal with his first name, it created an inappropriate intimacy. And what's more - he seemed to enjoy your uneasiness judging by his victorious smirk.

"Well, my dear. What I want from you...", he left the table to leisurely walk towards you. "... is of great value nowadays. So important but at the same time so hard to find..."

His piercing green eyes observed you while he surrounded you, lurking like a shark, he circled you: his prey. You would have stepped back in your sober state, but you didn't flinch and held his intensive glance with your chin raised up high. Your mood swing entertained Jeremiah apparently as he let out a breathy noise, a mixture of excitement and wickedness. The alcohol however couldn't suppress the goosebumps it caused you. Then, he slowly bent down, his lips brushing your ear and your whole body froze.

"W-What... do you want?", you repeated, voice audible shaking. You leaned slightly away from him, but Jeremiah wouldn't let go. His hot breath caressed your skin and for a moment you held your breath as shivers ran down your spine. He was precariously close, so close that you felt his lips moving, forming your answer.

"Your loyalty."

***

Loud music filled the dark rooms of the Wonderland's strip club, preventing private conversations among the crowd, but it didn't matter. After all, the customers were here for other reasons. The men's hungry eyes were glued to the girls on the stages who swung their hips to the rhythm, dancing temptingly in order to earn money. 
Jim and Harvey attracted some attention as they walked through the club. The GCPD captain glared at a man who held a girl firmly on his lap - he immediately let go of her at the eye-contact. 
"Looks like you're the spoil sport here, pal", Harvey commented, nodding his greetings to some girls here and there. "Ladies", he said with a big smile. Jim kept his serious face and strived for the counter where he pulled out his badge. "James Gordon, GCPD. We'd like to speak to the manager."

The two police officers were guided to the backstage area and found themselves inside a room with a man sitting there. He had an unmistakable tan and counted some money. He briefly glanced up as he piled up the dollar bills. His wide grin revealed unnatural white teeth that were as fake as his Russian accent. 
"Gentlemen, are you looking for a special girl?", he asked with a dirty undertone. Gordon didn't waste any time and laid Y/N's photo on the desk for the manager to see. "Yes. We need her name and address." Gordon and Bullock showed their badges to prove the seriousness of the situation. 
The man peaked at the photo. "I don't know, I have many girls here... It's hard to keep track of all those pretty faces." He laughed at his own joke, but instantly regretted it as Jim pushed him violently against the wall, arm pressed to his neck.

"That girl is involved in a crime and possibly in danger. I want her name and address. Now! Or otherwise I will help you remember."

Harvey appeared next to the gasping manager. "Side note: By that he does not imply some picture memory games...", he whispered and the manager's eyes widened. 
"Alright, alright!" Jim loosened his grip to let the man speak. "Her name is Y/N... Y/N L/N. She works Wednesday to Sunday here, starting from 10 pm. She's one of my popular girls, brings me good money. I really hope she's okay. That pretty face would be a loss."

Jim gave him a disgusted look. "How heartwarming...", he spatted before he left the club with his partner.


...

After the fifth time of ringing your door bell, Jim gave up to try knocking instead. "Y/N L/N! GCPD, we'd like to speak to you!" No answer. He knocked again, this time louder. Still no response. 
"By the way, Jim, why do you think she's with this maniac? She could be anywhere", Harvey asked him and Jim slightly turned his head. "If she'd be dead, Jeremiah would have killed her in the alley. But he didn't, which means that she must have been of use for him...", the GCPD captain shared his theory and Bullock nodded, then he shook his head. "This city gets crazier and crazier..." Jim put his hand on Harvey's shoulder to catch his eyes. "That's why we're here. Gotham needs us."

***

You blinked a few times to take Jeremiah's words in. "My... loyalty?", you repeated his words. He ignored you and paced slowly away, seeking the monitors. There, Jeremiah grabbed a small remote control. You followed his movement with knitted eyebrows, watching as he raised the object dramatically in the air.

"Yes, loyalty, my dear Y/N. So much of use and more powerful than love...". He pushed a button that turned one of the monitors on - showing a little boy locked up in an empty room..

You threw your drink carelessly aside to run towards the screen, inspecting the child for any injuries. He wore a school uniform, his hands were on his lap, holding a sketchbook and pen. He seemed physically fine, but he must be in torment psychically.

Anger made your blood boil. "Who is he?!", you asked furiously while clenching your wrists.

"My hostage", Jeremiah answered, turning his back to you. Oh, what a shame that you had no knife - you would have thrusted it deeply into his back, straight to his heart. If he owned one...

„Let him go!“, you yelled.

„No.“

„He’s just a child!“

„Oh, he is more than that.“ Jeremiah turned around to reveal his maniac smile. You shuddered. „He is Oswald’s weakness, he is his sack of bricks.“

Realisation hit you as your eyes were still on the boy. You couldn't believe how far someone could go to get his will, regardless of the damage they caused to others, to innocent people. Tears blurred your vision. "Will you kill him?"

"That depends on Oswald's actions." You bit your lower lip, so hard that you tasted the iron of your blood.

The door opened and the blonde woman from earlier was back with clothes in her hands. "Ah, good timing, Ecco", Jeremiah praised and pushed you gently, but determining towards her. "Now, get changed and refresh yourself. Ecco will show you everything." You snatched the clothes off the woman who kept a straight face, ready to let yourself be ordered around again.

Ecco led you to the bathroom of the underground bunker. It offered only the bare necessities like a sink, a mirror, some towels and a shower - the rest of the room was grey like the cement walls of the maze. Ecco waited outside the door and her emotionless behaviour made you believe that she was a robot rather than a human.

You looked at your mirror reflection. Was that the kind of loyalty that he expected from you? Doing whatever he demanded without any hesitation? Being a living puppet by letting him pull the strings? No way. There was no way that you would turn into an 'Ecco'.

You started to look around for something you could use as a weapon, a toothbrush, scissors, a comb - just anything, but the other woman seemed to read your mind. A firm knock made you freeze. "It's time", you heard her muffled voice. You cursed under your breath and sent up a silent prayer as an idea popped up in your mind. It was risky, but you had to try it.

"Coming", you said and half-opened the door, giving Ecco an embarrassing smile. "Could you, um, help me? I can't reach the zipper on the back", you lied and the blonde woman just entered the room. That was it - you quickly threw yourself through the gab and shut the door behind you, leaving Ecco trapped. She banged angrily against the metal, but you already sprinted away.

"Okay, okay, let's see... left, right, right, then left... then right again...-", you mumbled nervously as you mentally reconstructed the way Jeremiah had walked with you. The adrenalin rushed through your veins and your heart hammered against your chest. You crashed into a wall as you cut a corner, but you kept the speed. Right, left, left, right.

A purple neon light welcomed you: The end. You did it!

You smiled in relief, the 2 bright words were your salvation, your life saver. Just a few more meters -  you could already feel the fresh air of the chilly forest. Almost there...

"What about the boy?", a distant voice resonated from behind you. You stopped and stood there, one meter away from the exit. Your heavy breaths were in tune with the footsteps that came closer and closer.

"I was under the impression that you took a liking on him." Jeremiah's tall figure stepped forward and you slowly turned back. If looks could kill...

"I suggest you cut out any hasty actions from now on, for the boy's sake", he threatened and strode towards you. Your former happiness was now replaced by hatred and disillusion. "I will do whatever you want. Just don't kill him, please", you begged through gritted teeth and Jeremiah stopped in front of you.

"How about a joke to lighten up the mood?", he asked and you raised an eyebrow.

"Knock, knock", he said.

"... Who's there?", you asked meekly.

Jeremiah stepped aside and your eyes widened at the sight of Ecco. "Me, bitch.", she spat and punched you in the face. Your head hit the stone floor and within a split second everything went black around you.

To be continued...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3  Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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Break My Heart - Ch2 - Clandestine

A/N: Part two of sixish. Takes place during episode 7. Underlined text is from the episode and does not belong to me

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader

Word Count:1300

Warnings: Smut(eventual), angst, canon-typical violence, infidelity

Summary: It’s getting more difficult for Billy Russo to manage his double life.

Read Chapter 1

The next morning, you weren’t so surprised that Billy was gone, as you were that he didn’t bother to let you know he was leaving.

You’d been thinking about your boyfriend all day, so on your break, you decided to go out and grab lunch from Billy’s favorite restaurant and walk it the few blocks to the Anvil building to surprise him.

As you walked past the sliding, glass doors, you made a beeline for the elevator.

“Hey, Y/N. Mr. Russo’s not here today,” Stacy called, quirking an eyebrow at you. She gave you a look that recognized you as familiar, but one that also said ‘why are you here?’ Stacy maned the front desk at Anvil. If anyone came in or out, she knew about it.

“He’s not here?” you asked, turning to walk to her desk.

“No, ma’am,” she confirmed. “Said he’d be out of the office for a few days. He didn’t give me all the details, but I’m pretty sure he’s working on that CIA contract. Didn’t he tell you?”

Your brows furrowed and you bit your bottom lip, thinking. ‘Did he tell me?’ You straightened up, “I must have forgotten,” you resolved.

Stacy smiled at you sweetly.

You sighed, gripping the take-out bag in your hand. “Hey, have you had lunch yet?”

She looked at the clock and said, “Not yet. I go in about thirty, why?”

“Do you like Richies?” you asked, holding the bag of lunch out to her.

Billy was on his way out of Madani’s office, mentioning that he liked “the naked thing” when his phone buzzed. It was a text from you, so he decided to wrap things up. “No one’s listening,” he said as he was leaving, not considering that it might tip Madani off to the bug nestled in her bookshelf.

“I brought you a plate from Richies. I was hoping we could have lunch together.”

Billy tapped away on his phone as he made his way out of the building.

“Upstate working this CIA deal. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I gave it to Stacy. Will you be home tonight?”

Billy put his phone back in his pocket, not bothering to respond before he got in his car and drove up to the Safe House that Rawlins was in. He had been admiring the scenery and the view of the country through the windows when Rawlins asked him, “Still sleeping with Madani?”

That effectively pulled him from his thoughts. “Every chance I get. Have you seen her?” he said without missing a beat. Just then, as if he were suddenly reminded of you, he pulled out his phone and read the text that you had sent hours ago.

‘Tomorrow,’ he responded, before tucking the phone away again.

The next day, you had the day off, so you took the time to do some cleaning around the loft. You didn’t know when to expect Billy back, and after a few more unanswered texts, you decided not to try him again.

You relaxed the day away after you finished cleaning. You settled for ordering takeout and catching up on your favorite show.

After Billy left the hotel staff to find the bodies of Bennett and his girlfriend, he headed straight home. As he made his way up the steps to the loft, he realized how long the past few days have been. In less than a week he dealt with finding out Frank was alive, deciding to turn him over to Rawlins, the raid on the base, killing Bennett, and balancing his relationship with you and Madani—which to be honest, he was confused about himself.

He knows he loves you—he’s got no doubt about that. You’re always there to get him through it when things get tough. He admires your level head and your calm approach to everything. You never let him down. Madani, on the other hand, is just sex and information; neither of which he really wants to turn down.  Needless to say, Billy was tired, drained emotionally.

It was late when he got home. When he pushed the door open, he was surprised to hear the tv still going. He found you sleeping on the couch with a thin blanket wrapped around you. He turned the tv off and uncovered you gently to carry you to the bed. You stirred a little, vaguely aware of Billy carrying you, but once you were in the bed you got comfortable and fell back asleep. You didn’t wake until you heard something hitting the hard floor in the bathroom.

You padded across the room into the bathroom. Billy was holding his shoulder with a gauze in one hand, and trying to thread a needle using his teeth and the other hand. Immediately, you took over. You picked up the bullet off the floor—presumably what woke you up—washed your hands, and turned him towards you, taking the needle and sutures from him.

“Keep pressure on that.” You said, nodding at his shoulder as you threaded the needle. “What happened?” you asked with a yawn as you started stitching.

“Training.”

You let out a heavy, irritated sigh. “Since when do you use real bullets for training?”

Billy started to talk, but you cut him off. “You’ve got two, day old bruises from being shot here and here,” you said ghosting your fingers over the places that his vest had protected him the other night. “Dried blood under your fingernails, and on your knife. This,” you accused, looking up at him and purposefully pulling the final stitch a little too tight, effectively earning a grunt and a little smirk from Billy, “was not from training.”

Billy loved it when you called his bullshit, but he had to admit that he was genuinely surprised that you had noticed so much in the few minutes that you had been in the bathroom with him, especially since you were clearly still trying to wake yourself up. He took a deep breath, deciding to tell you the truth, but only enough of it to get you to stop asking questions.

“I worked a contract upstate. It got a little messy,” he confessed as he scrubbed the blood from his fingernails while you took his blade apart, cleaning the blood off the individual pieces as you went.

“Looks like it was more than a little messy.”

Billy clenched his jaw as he watched the final drops of pink swirl down the drain. It was something that he did when he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You had noticed it early on in your relationship, and more often than not, it was your cue that you wouldn’t get any more out of him; to drop the subject because whatever it was was really weighing on him and he needed time to go over it in his mind before he could say any more on it. You’re not sure he even notices that he does that.

When you finished wiping down the knife and washing the flakes of blood off your hands, you leaned your head on his good shoulder and yawned again. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Billy looked at you in the mirror for a moment. “Thank you.”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed a little. “For what?”

“All this,” he said gesturing to the suture kit on the counter. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, yet here you are, at 2 in the morning, barely awake and taking care of me.”

You shrugged. You hadn’t really thought anything of it. You always patched Billy up, whether it was a physical bullet woundlike tonight, or when he was struggling with memories from his past. This was normal for you. You stood on your toes until your lips reached his, giving him a quick peck. The one quick kiss turned into a few slower ones as Billy ran his hands down your body, pulling you closer to him.

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NOTE: "It's the CLIMAX!" - Haruko, FLCL (as in story climax; there are a few more chapters after this)

Actually, it wasn't Simon Lee. What I mean is, it was the crazy psycho evil Simon Lee from Scott's memories and from my annoying dreams on nights where I couldn't sleep. The real one was just this nerdy little Chinese kid I almost-kinda dated before I met Scott. Shortish, wearing thick glasses, kind of a dick but not really a threat to anyone.

This dude in the purple tracksuit was seven feet tall and limber, with gently-windswept brown hair and a much trendier pair of glasses perched on his smug nose. His hands were in his pockets, as if completely casual and disinterested in anything we had to contribute, but the fury in his eyes and the way he had shouted definitely said otherwise. Somehow, he wasn't that intimidating, despite the size and everything. I mean, Knives had just taken apart a monster much more huge than him all on her own, right? This chump didn't stand a chance.

"Surprised you remember," he spat back at me as he strode closer to the cage, laying a hand on one of the bars. To her credit, Princess Pine looked afraid of him; at least she didn't somehow find him attractive despite the fact that he was a douchebag. "After all, apparently Pilgrim wasn't good enough for you, either. Why such high standards? Gingers don't even have souls, much less a right to spurn the advances of someone as majestic as-"

"We don't have souls?" I cut him off, gesturing to my body. "What the fuck do you call this? Maybe you should just leave now, before it gets messier."

Sneering, he nodded at Knives. "You think this he-she will treat you any better? Pathetic."

Even while Knives's face was darkening with mingling anger and shame, I was curling my non-tangible hands into fists. "You… better not… say that again."

"Say what? That she's a freak who thinks owning a few skirts makes her a real girl? Not like you haven't thought it before. I know; I'm actually living inside your head, so there's no sense in trying to hide the tru-"

"NOPE. I meant it, you fucktard. Get out of my head. Now."

The bars of the cage were as solid as ever… but something was happening to Princess Pine. Most of her fear and her cowering had subsided, and now she was sitting on the floor of her prison, looking up at him with white-hot fury in her every pore. Neither one of us were happy with the way he was speaking about Knives. It pissed me off that I wouldn't be able to hit him the way I was, but that didn't matter. I was just angry and She-Hulk wanted to smash.

"Do you… really think I'm a freak?"

Instantly, I forgot about Simon and turned back to Knives. "No. God, no! I mean, maybe I did right when I first found out, but like, people think dumb shit all the time. When we first met, I also wondered if you knew kung fu and drank green tea. And like… you do, but there's also a ton more to you than just being Chinese, so like… you're Knives. Not just Chinese, not just trans, not just any one little byte of data in your profile. You're a whole person. I, um… I get that now in a way I didn't when we met, so…"

"NegaKim is right," the princess assured her, again trying to push her way out of the bars to get to her 'prince'. "We all have intrusive thoughts we cannot help. But that never stopped me from loving you."

"HEY!" I snapped. "That was my line to say! You don't get to steal my line, faker!"

Knives was looking between the two of us, barely paying attention to Simon. "Wait… you said- I mean, she said that you… I mean, do you?"

When I saw the other Kim opening her mouth to answer, about to beat me to the punch again, I rushed to blurt out, "YES! I love you, Knives, you idiot!"

"That wasn't a very nice way to phrase it," Princess Pine grumbled, annoyed at missing her opening.

"Maybe if somebody gave me a minute to get my thoughts together, I could have put a little more finesse on my declaration, you high-class hologram!"

Finally, Simon chuckled and tried to reinsert himself back into the conversation, arms now folded over his chest as he mimicked an imposing figure next to the cage. "Oh, she's no hologram. You really haven't figured out who she is, have you?"

"Shut up, Mr. Velour. Women are talking."

"Why you little-"

"Let me out of here!" the princess hissed. "I can help you defeat him! Together, we will, we must!"

"How ungrateful!" he burst out, turning to shout at her. "I gave you meaning again, drew the host's attention to you, and this is how you repay me? The thanks I get! Well, forget this! I'm bringing it all down!"

As I started to ask Knives if she could just cut him to pieces and we could skip this whole cutscene, he began to grow. Like, in a Power Rangers kind of fashion. Seven feet became eight, then nine, then about ten when he stopped, rippling muscles threatening to burst the threads of his tracksuit. In fact, the front did rip open to reveal his pecs and abs, which might have been attractive if I were a little straighter, and if they weren't bright red and abnormal. At the same moment, he reached behind himself to retrieve a giant golden axe, glowing with unnatural might.

"Fuuuuck me," I breathed.

"Quick!" my copy was hissing at us, reaching a hand through the bars. "Don't any of you have a bottle of Soft? It can turn these bars back and we can cut through them easily!"

"Why, what are they made of?" Knives demanded as she got both of her weapons back out, readying to do battle.

"Skin! I mean, where do you think you are? Everything in here is skin!"

Both myself and Knives exchanged a disgusted glance. But we didn't even have a chance to brace for impact, or to try to strategize further. Even as we looked on, a giant green pipe appeared coming out of the ceiling, and out fell…

Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers.

Of all the people in the known universe, there they were, in my heart-chamber-thing. Scott was hanging onto a bright pink parasol and Ramona's arms and legs were wrapped around his front as they slowly drifted downward, eyes wide as they stared at the scene they had stumbled into. Ramona looked about the same, except half of her hair was pink and the other half green, which really looked kind of hideous but it would probably be different next week, anyway. Her fishnets were ripped in a few places, and her heavy-duty blue rollerblades were probably close to being retired, but otherwise she looked good, I guess. Whatever.

There was something else about Scott I noticed right away.

"Dude, you're bald."

"Hey to you, too, Kim!" he called down, and he actually sounded like his usual cheerful self. "What's new?"

"What's- Scott, seriously? It's time for a casual game of catch-up right now? Right now?"

Ramona cleared her throat and said, "I think she means the big purple-suited dude."

"Oh." They touched down with barely a noise, and Scott folded up the umbrella. "He must be the next fragment of the Gideonflux."

"The what?" Knives asked. But then she smiled and waved. "And hi!"

He nodded upward as he grinned at her. "Hey!"

"The Gideonflux," Ramona provided. I always admired her ability to actually focus, unlike either of those other two dorks. "The seven remaining pieces of Gideon Graves's telepathic mind that he left behind when we destroyed him a year and whatever ago. You didn't know about it?"

Myself and my 'prince' shook our heads. Princess Pine looked a little guilty, but she didn't respond; probably, she had figured it out, or Simon had been grandstanding and literally told her.

"Anyway, yeah, Scott and I have been trying to track them all down before he rises again. We're on… what is it, three?"

"Four, I thought," Scott answered, rubbing his hand over his oddly-bald head. Still freaking me out.

"Okay, there was the one in the mummy's tomb, the one in the book under that old castle… the one in the Krispy Kreme… what am I leaving out if we got four?"

Scott was thinking too. They were both having a hard time coming up with it. Then he snapped his fingers. "Right! You took care of that one on your own, you didn't wanna talk about it?"

Her lip curled. "Oh yeah. That was nasty. Think I blocked it out… yeah, nevermind, Scott's right; it's four. And Super Simon Lee makes five."

"Wait, how do you figure that?" I demanded. "What does Gideon have to do with Simon?"

"Nothing. Not the real Simon; he's still doing pretty well at his IT job in Vancouver. We had to find out, since the name was our only clue for the next Flux piece," she went on in an undertone, seeing how confused we both looked. "This was something Gideon did to both you and Scott to put you at odds. It didn't really work in Scott's case, since he's kind of a dope. But yeah, when I hopped the highway through his head and saw no sign of Simon, and since we already broke his hold over me a long time ago, there was only one other place we could think of to look."

While Scott pouted, Knives stepped forward and pointed her knife over at Simon. "So he's not real? I can defeat him and not feel bad for beating up a real person?"

"Knock yourself out. And hey, you look pretty good, Knives. Working out?"

"Oh, yeah! Training, you know, all that. Plus I'm using this new moisturizer, it's made from-"

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone turned to look at the clearly-furious fake Simon, who was heaving breaths and glaring icy death at his room full of opponents. Raising the axe high, he sneered at me, "If I can't have you, no one will!"

"Somebody get this asshole a line read," I snarked. "Can you believe what he's spewing? Makes Lucas Lee look like a Tony award winner."

"Let's get him!" Scott shouted. At that instant, a pale blue sword burst from his chest, and he pulled it free as a narrator's echoing voice said, "Scott earned the Power of Loyalty!" while plus-bonuses briefly appeared above his head. Ramona reached into her bag and pulled out her hammer, and Knives crouched down with her blades, ready to pounce on the monstrous inflated form of a former boyfriend that had been twisted by one of Ramona's evil exes into something to keep a piece of my soul trapped within a subchamber inside my chest cavity.

My life is abnormal.

Ramona struck first because he ended up being closest to her, driving the hammer into his knees; he barely flinched before batting her aside, where she flipped to race down the wall on her skates. Scott and Knives double-teamed him, Scott jumping at his back with a downward stab as Knives tried to dart in past his windmilling arms to get him in the chest or the ribs. All attacks thwarted. He didn't beat them back, but he managed to make them dance away to avoid getting hit. When Ramona got to him again, she went for an uppercut and caught a piece of him, but he barely staggered; he seemed more enraged than anything, and grabbed her by the leg, swinging her in a quick circle before letting her go, hurtling toward me.

"I got you!" I cried, opening my arms — and feeling her pass right through them. "I don't got you."

But she was fine, already popping up and motioning for Knives to hop onto her shoulders. She did, and Ramona started racing around Simon in a circle while Scott used the sword to block a few of the energy blasts he sent flying at them. When they got to his side for the fifth time, Knives hopped off and stabbed for his eyes, but he deflected her at Scott, who was just getting to the other side now, sending them both down. He just barely managed to roll out of the way of a foot-stomp, and flashed an upward swipe at the shoulder that managed to score him, but didn't seem to slow him down much.

The fight was going badly. Like, they were doing great, but Super Simon really did just seem impervious to most of the attacks. At this rate, they were going to lose because he would simply wear them out by outlasting their stamina reserves. We had to do something!

"Let me out!" Princess Pine was shrieking at me. "Please!"

"We're a little busy!" I snapped at her impatiently. "God, I'm glad you've been locked up, you whiny piece of-"

"No! You have to let me out, or they can't defeat him!"

Surprised, I floated over to her cage and leaned closer still. "Say that again?"

"Verily! Only through my body will you have the power you need to overcome his defenses! Without this, their efforts will be for naught! And he's already damaged your heart enough as it is!"

"Why do you talk like you're in fucking 'Twelfth Night' or something? And what do you mean, damaged my…"

But even as I said it, I looked around and noticed what she meant. There were several areas in the chamber that looked like they had been hastily repaired. Most of them sturdily, but a few were just a single wooden board pushed up against a gap and nailed into place. Now, there were a few new tears and fractures being made by this epic battle; things that would need fixing up once we defeated him. How did I miss that? Probably too distracted by the whole bizarreness of there being a chamber in my heart that would serve as the stage for the final battle.

"Fine. You're right, I'm an unholy mess. But how is me letting you out going to help? And how do you suggest I do that, anyway? If I can't break this cage, and you can't break it…"

"Trust me."

"I don't! You're trying to steal Knives from me, and you keep calling her a 'prince', and… and I think you're part of Simon's scheme! So thanks, but no fucking thanks!"

Finally, she started to look a little more panicked than simply distraught and angry. "We don't have time! You… you must, or… or we'll lose her!"

It did shoot a pang through me at the thought. But I had faith in Knives. I knew she could defeat Simon, I knew that the other me was totally off the mark. All I had to do was trust in the one who had given me a reason to trust her.

Except then I saw Knives's knives get knocked away, watched her skitter across the floor toward me. Letting out a yelp, I went to drag her into my arms as Ramona and Scott did their best against the behemoth, but it wasn't happening because my arms couldn't do anything. I was useless.

My uselessness was going to get us all killed. While fighting a figment of my imagination.

"I'm sorry," I breathed down at her, watching her dazed eyes trying to focus on my voice. "This is my fault… I couldn't figure out that something was wrong inside me, and now… you have to deal with it, when it's not your fight. Should be mine. Only mine, and only my responsibility to do the clean-up work. But I can't. I'm a piece of shit."

"No, Kim!" she assured me, voice still numb but getting stronger as she started sitting up a little, flashing me her best smile through a black eye that would look way worse in an hour or two. "You're not, don't say that! Nobody could have expected any of this to happen, y'know?"

But I was already feeling that vice-like grip of terror around my heart again. The same way I felt it just before I turned to stone for the last time. As I felt it, I watched Simon growing larger, spikes jutting out from his forearms and shoulders, and Ramona and Scott hopped back to reassess the situation…

And it kind of all clicked into place. The problem wasn't my inadequacy. Wasn't my saltiness or my fear of commitment. Well, the last one was a little closer to the mark: it was my fear. I was being a coward. Being selfish.

"Okay," I breathed, standing away from her and turning toward the cage. "Enough of my whining."

"Kim?" Already, I had drifted through the bars, curling my lip at the joyful smile Princess Pine was wearing. Using my face for that purpose was just wrong on so many levels. "Kim, wait, what- KIM!"

"If Scott could be big enough to do this… so can I."

Then I started merging with her. Letting my soul get consumed by the annoying, bleeding-heart version of me that I wanted to punch if I could have.

"Don't worry!" Scott was calling out as he leapt over a ground-pound. "It's not as bad as you think it'd be, trust me!"

And he was right. A few seconds later, I had a body again, and I felt almost completely normal… except a little lighter. A little stronger and more full of purpose than I had ever been in my entire life. My hands pushed outward against the bars, and they shattered, freeing me from the prison in which I had never truly been trapped. Only been convinced I was trapped by anxiety and depression, and a deep-seated uncertainty that I could ever fully trust anyone at all.

But I had to. Even if I only trusted Knives, I had to trust someone. And I had decided to try trusting myself for a few minutes, too. Take that for a test drive.

"NO!" Simon growled, then lashed out with his tail — must have missed when that grew in — and knocked away the hammer Ramona had been about to bring down on his head. Loosing a mighty bellow of rage, he initiated a spin move that was deadly from all the spikes, launching himself at Scott…

I called for a weapon. Somehow, I thought if I just made that same kind of self discovery Scott did, I'd get one. Maybe a gun; that'd be cooler than a sword, right? But nope. Nothing came. Still, at least I could help Knives stand up now that I no longer owned ghost-hands.

"Thanks," she whispered, then whipped out a few throwing knives from somewhere or other. "He's mine!"

And on the battle went. It actually took a while, but they seemed to be turning the tide now. Before, it had been a stalemate, but in some small way, I think me breaking out of the cage shook Super Simon's confidence. Or maybe the cage was some kind of energy siphon and me breaking out my other self really did lower his regeneration stats, which was why each hit they landed dealt more damage now. Whatever. The point is, a few minutes later, he was starting to stagger, his attacks were sluggish and dumb, and missed pretty often now. Somewhere in there, he managed to destroy Scott's sword and it turned into a dozen little ghostly dog bones before they vanished, but he grabbed one of Knives's daggers from the corner and tossed her the other one, and they made it work with those.

Finally, they had him on his knees, wrists tied with Knives's scarf and Ramona's hammer weighing his head down so he could only barely glare up at us. He looked even more demonic than before, teeth jagged and eyes blazing red. He chuckled darkly.

"You can't kill me, Kim." I was holding his own golden axe high above my head, ready to strike. "I'm a part of you now. I'll always be a part of your nightmares. Killing this form of mine will solve nothing."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm tired of looking at your fucking face!"

His head came clean off, spraying the same green blood everywhere that the other monster had, before his body burst into coins. We all glanced at each other, surprised at how sticky and nasty it felt. Scott was the first to laugh.

"Well, that was a thing."

"Doof," Ramona snorted, though it was clearly with a fond tone. Sighing, she turned to me and frowned. "Sorry about the mess. This has been some of the hardest resistance we've ever had to recovering one of these."

As she was saying it, I watched Scott stoop to the floor where the body had been to pick up a little triangular "G", like the logo on the doors of the Chaos Theater. It glittered an oddly sinister green, but I only had a second to wonder about that before he popped it into his jeans pocket and out of sight.

"Uh… yeah." Clearing my throat, I said, "This is probably asking a lot, but if you guys can help me clean up? I mean, otherwise it'd probably take years…"

"Sure," Scott said at once, pocketing some of the coins, as well. I noticed both Knives and Ramona already were, too. "Where's your mop?"

"Really? Just like that?"

Scott stood up a little more fully and shrugged. "Hey, I kinda owe you a little repair work. Especially here, since I'm pretty sure a few of these holes are my fault."

Had me there. Normally, I would have said that he was a dick, or just scoffed and turned away. But I found myself saying, "Yeah, probably. I have a lot of healing to do. It's hard work, Scott."

His smile finally slipped off. But he didn't do much else, only shrugged and kicked at a little blob of slime-blood. "Yeah."

"But I can do the repairs myself. Just help me clean up this mess and we'll go back to working through our own drama."

"Can do, Kim. But hey, if you ever need a hand…"

"Thanks, but…" I caught Knives before she could walk past, holding her hand up. "Already have one."

"Really?" he piped up, the smile springing back to full force. "That's awesome! Wondered if anything was gonna come of that."

"What?" Knives asked, shocked. "You mean, you knew about it? I didn't tell anybody!"

"Well, I kinda walked in on you guys," he admitted with a shy little laugh, scratching the back of his head. "At Julie's aunt's, we were all super wasted? Figured it was none of my business, though. But man, you were really making out! Like, a lot!"

Sighing but at least grateful that he wasn't making a huge deal, I glanced at the two of them before I said, "Get used to it, because… I'm in love with her."

The echoey voice said "Kim earned the Power of Love!" and a glittering pink spear came out of my chest, a little taller than me once pulled completely through and with a couple of wicked prongs on either side of the main spearhead. A magnificent weapon. There was only one problem.

"FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!" I shouted at the world in general. "So now I get this! Where was it fucking ten minutes ago when we needed it?! UGH!"

                                                To Be Continued…

[2gameprince]

Cracking Wise

Back in the day I found a list in my father’s bottom desk drawer. It was rather long and back then I didn’t really know what it meant. I knew he was involved with gangsters and I had alway assumed the list was just a collection of his top ten favorite. Mobsters, that is. Number ten on the list was Don Ferro. Now he was an artist. Strung up every cop he killed for the public to see all while collecting profits from the judges and lawyers he capped. Not all stories come to a happy close and neither did his. When the feds found out what he was doing they tracked him down. He was never heard of after that. Still he lives on a mighty reminder of no matter how wicked you can be, there’s always someone higher that can wipe you off the earth as if you were never here. Number nine on the list was Carlo Funzi. Famous for collecting a total of three hundred and forty three goons, taking them to the streets of Brooklyn, he was known for holding the longest stand off with the cops ever recorded. He eventually sought shelter to shoot from. Funzi’s standoff lasted four hours as he filled every cop who walked into the building with bullets. In his final hour he ran about the roof of the building, apparently drugged up and screaming to the copters above and the vans below. He boasted about how god was protecting him and how he would walk away after successfully taking on and killing the entire United States Military all in one night. His charade ended when the building he was in was brought down by small military tanks that had been called in. He had finally reached the top and he fell from it, ending his career and his life. Funny thing is, he was apparently spotted driving a van or two in and out of the Bronx. He’s still suspected to be roaming the slums outside of the state. Number eight on the list was Lawrence Raab. A well respected banker for many years, Mr. Raab was just a corrupt individual which, with the help of a rising crime family, became a ruthless gangster and hit man for the now nonexistent Vittero Mob. His targets were mostly rival bankers. Along the way he approximately stole over two million dollars which eventually was circulated back to the people once circulated through the mob. They were unsuccessful at proving he committed the murders of fellow bankers, but were successful at catching him in the act of taking money from the banks and delivering it to the Vittero Mob. This lead to the downfall and disbanding of the mob and the arrest of Lawrence Raab. He is currently serving a sentence of thirty years in Alcatraz. Number seven on the list is Charles Barbato. Also known as “Barbato the Butcher”, he was a gangster more known for how much he didn’t kill when he could of. Not possessing much more than a fifth grade education level, he was the kinder right-hand-man to former Lucchese boss, Tony Franza. He numbered them backwards and the list stopped at number seven with the numbers six to zero written beneath it all. It wasn’t until adulthood that I would discover it was a hit list. I slowly pieced together the purpose of the hit list while touching upon a memory scarred into my past. It was the day men in crimson suits busted down the door of my parent’s three room apartment and left me laying on the floor in a pool of my own tears. After that encounter I joined up with crime families here and there until finally settling down with the Ranova’s and adopting the name I would carry till the day I died. My name is Gabriel and this is the first and probable last story I’ll ever tell. Now the following took place on Saturday March 29th, 1932 8:34 p.m. Since then it has become mob legend where I live. I just happened to be a soul fortunate enough to walk away from it with a concerned smirk on my face and a deviant memory in heart. And yet, the events of that night vary depending on who’s spinning that long-gone yarn, but I can tell you for sure that my versions the truest. Funny how a simple meet and greet between rival gangs can turn into a bloody purging of rats and egos in only a few minutes. It was supposed to be a night where the Bonnano and Colombo Families would meet to finalize their joining against the Genovese Crime Family. Rob Bonnano and Frank Colombo had passed letters back and forth about this team-up months prior to tonight. Bonanno figured it would be a hard choice to make since the Colombo family was known for being blindly radical. When Bonanno was contacted by Frank he knew he either had to join forces with the Colombos or lunge into a pointless war that would take out half his men and ruin his revenue. Rob was smart, and he knew a tight spot when he saw one. If it wasn’t for his knowledge of how this system of philosophers and psychopaths worked, well, he’d be like those poor saps before him. Dead, that is. Now me and my crew on the other hand, being from the smalltime Ranova Family, couldn’t allow this joining to happen. A fraction of the time we only served as informants to the higher mobs and since our ranking among the crime bosses and families was so low we would often go unnoticed and undetected by the feds and the mafia. This was on the rare occasions that we did get involved in the “bigger issues” of the time. And March twenty ninth was one of those times. We crashed their little diner party and made every unprepared goon look like human swiss cheese, but not before making it look like a Bonanno turned on a Colombo, triggering a dirty misunderstanding that spiraled out of the restaurant and into the street. Me and my boys ditched the scene, but not before seeing the two remaining mob bosses duke it out after running out of bullets. They eventually just started knifing one another with broken shards of a nearby window. The fury emanating off of these men was incredible. Each jolted at one another every chance they got, to swing and gash the other, just to move back in time and miss the sharp ends of the glass each one held. That was until their furious outbursts were silenced by the echoing of police gunfire. So it was then I took off like lightning and reported back to my boss about the beautiful brawl that now left the Bonannos leaderless and the Colombos numbers greatly damaged. We knew for a fact that the Bonanno Family would have a leader by next morning. Possibly one of Rob Bonnanos sons. Either way, the information would reach us soon enough. On the other hand, the Colombos would have a much harder time recovering from the previous night’s misadventure. This was the time we had been waited for, when the weakling Colombo Family would be easily vulnerable to our counter efforts. They were crippled and lacked someone in charge. The next day the Lucchese Family stepped in and took them out before we could. I suppose it was a kind gesture on their part. At least we didn’t have to get our hands dirty. Sure enough within a day since the shootout between the B’s and C’s, it was known throughout New Manhattan that Gerald Bonanno, brother of Rob Bonanno, was taking over the family. Not exactly what we expected, but being as tightly bunched together as the family was, we could see why the brother would take over instead of one of Rob’s ripe and fragile sons. Us and the Bonannos were the only real crime families that only allowed blood relatives to be initiated into our ranks. If you weren’t a Ranova, you weren’t in. Some idiot tried a blood transfusion between himself and a member of our gang that he’d kidnapped prior. It didn’t take long for use to find out and when we did, we left him buried naked in a wooden box filled with leeches somewhere in the Bronx. If they found him now, he’d look like a raisin. A lot of weird shit like that that happened back in those days. I suppose it was to be expected, what with the reconstruction of Manhattan and all. The great fire that took that town down now opened up a whole crime circuit fresh for the taking. Life was moving by fast after the Colombo’s were wiped out and I took a little break to revisit an old problem that had been brewing in my skull. I still had my dad’s list. God knows how I’d managed to hang on to it all these years. But I knew for a fact that there must have been a good reason why these mystery men’s names were on paper and I swore by the angels above that I’d solve this thing. This meant going to depths I’d fear to dream about. This meant erasing all fear of death and weakness. This meant taking the risks of a fool and the confidence of a mad man. This meant finding the truth and filling every rotten suited goon who got in my way full of brass, bronze, lead, gold and silver slugs! So, with the rebooted mindset to find my parent’s killers and finish my old man’s list, I headed to the water to visit some old retired Bonnanos boys. There were three that still worked a little drug trade out by the shore well after quitting the mob. After being taken in my the Ranovas I had never heard anyone speak a word about what happened to my father or the guys that clipped him. It was like all my family friends and relatives just cut ties and vanished into the darkness. I didn’t mind much. Crowds and groups were never my thing back then and they still aren’t today. I could soon see that the three Bonannos boys felt the same way, well, other then each others company. Their names were Mickey, Don, and Frezko. Just a happy little group of balding fat stooges. Just listening to them talk made me chuckle. I mean, I know it was rude, but seeing what the years had done to these guys made me think aging wasn’t so bad as long as someone got a laugh out of it. I talked to them for a while, but they didn’t know anything. So I shot them all, one slug to each of their heads. Sure it wasn’t the rational thing to do at the time, but hey. I was on a mission and if I knew you were involved, well, lets just say if you didn’t have anything interesting thing to tell me, then you better come up with something halfway appealing to sing to your maker once I introduced you. Looking back, all the gun slinging and goon purging didn’t get me far, but I was young and with a hand cannon at my side, I felt power. Power and heat, that’s what it was! God, just thinking about it gets my foot hopping. I remember every door I’d bust down and every life I’d take and how great it felt that I looked for the answers in all the wrong places, but still emerged unscathed and searching blindly. Damn, I was moron. It was always at times when I would be sitting around doing nothing that answers flew my way and people really started to talk. Like the night I stopped into a bar to have a drink with a childhood friend, Rob Sanco. He didn’t get much out before a bullet flew past my shoulder and nailing him. I ran like hell outside to catch the shooter, but they were long gone. All I got out of him was that his family suffered a similar fate as mine. Rob was the only person in his home left alive after his family was hit. In his case, the death toll took a sister and an uncle along with a mother and father. Before that bullet broke our whispers I ranted to me about how he was on the same mission I was and how he planned to track down and burn those bastards that iced his childhood and screwed him up. And like that, he was a bloody hulk of uselessness lying on the floor before me. Dam-nest thing, how this whole life pans out.