#and shes a militia member who swore in other militia members into the militia on the capitol steps

[briarpatch-kids]

Sometimes I forget that not everyone knows how bonkers Idaho politics are. It's still very much the Wild West out here, except even the Wild West had safer gun laws.

[insane-control-room]

Poison

[check out the gif vers on twitter :)]

Ao3 Link

The moment after Spy put his cigarette to his lips, Engineer stepped forward and wrapped him into a hug, holding onto him as though his life depended on it.

"Never do that again."

tws: temp death, minor violence, broken bone

Scout’s hearing was a little messed up as he was trying to wake up. That was relatively normal for him. What was not normal was the fact that he could hear other voices that he did not recognize in the slightest. The first few weeks at Teufort had a similar effect, and negatively impacted his performance more than he would have liked, but that made for a colossal swingback once he was able to get some proper sleep.

So hearing new voices that he was certain should not be there set off alarm bells in his head.

“Kid’s still asleep, I guess.”

Part of Scout was indignant at being called a kid, but the other part agreed with that gruff, low voice. Pretending to be asleep in a hostile situation could be pretty beneficial to him.

“Well, it doesn’t matter too much,” another voice hissed. “Grab him and go. We’ve already got his y factor, and that’s what does matter. The brat doesn’t matter at all, really, but we need him to get to what we want.”

Scout stiffened, but tried not to let it show, as he had been picked up by someone who might have been just a little smaller than Heavy. They carried him out of the hall, and he squinted at his desk to catch a glimpse of the time from his golden baseball themed alarm clock. He had received it anonymously on his birthday, and while none of his teammates admitted it, Engineer did inform him that the compound was actual gold, and not just painted. He felt a warm glow every time he saw the time on it, and this time, though stressful, was no different as he beheld the yellowish 3:41.

Too damn early for this, in other words.

Scout knew he was taken outside when he felt the cool air on his face. He immediately recognized the buzzing, spaztic sounds of sapped sentries. That in turn made him wonder where Engineer was, questioning why he had not fixed the problem, and decided firmly that he did not want to think about that too much.

“Good, you brought him,” a high pitched voice that Scout very much disliked giggled. “Now the real fun can start.”

Scout was unceremoniously dropped onto the floor, and he popped right back up, folding his arms and giving a dissatisfied scowl.

“Ey, careful with the merchandise, Mann,” he snapped at Olivia. She only smiled wider, contrasted by the green uniforms of her miniature militia. “I don’t need any of this crap right now. What the hell do you want with me?”

“Oh, I don’t want anything with you,” she clarified, unnerving Scout all the more. Something was dead wrong with that kid. She did not act like a child in the slightest. “I want something from him, and he’s being very stubborn and not talking!”

As she spoke, Scout’s blue eyes followed the general motion of her hands and felt horror bubbling up in him at the sight of Spy. His suit was torn and bloodied, one of his eyes certainly swollen, and his arms were bound behind his back, his ankles added by another length of material that Scout did not recognize at all.

Olivia followed his gaze and smiled again.

“That’s a special type of rope I had made just for him,” she giggled again. “Frank was such a sweetheart to create it to my specifications. The more he struggles, the tighter it gets. He learned his lesson, now, didn’t you Mr. Spy?”

Spy spat some blood in her general direction instead of answering, but Scout winced nonetheless, knowing the truth behind the silent reply. Olivia snapped her fingers, and one of her grunts kicked Spy in the stomach.

“No, no,” Olivia shook her head. “Enough of torturing poor Mr. Spy. We’ve got a new playmate!”

Scout, who had been backing away to run for help, spun on his heel and booked it. A grapple grabbed his back, and at least five Gs of pressure exerted on his spine as he was snapped back. It made him scream out. Spy stared down at the ground in front of himself, not trusting himself to keep his resolve if he watched. They both were aware that Scout yelled about every minor injury, but neither wanted to see him hurt any more than that.

“Now, we all know that your precious respawn is down,” Olivia booped Scout on the nose. “And I really don’t want to kill you. Neither of you. But you, running man, have a lot less keeping your string going.”

“Merde, he’s just a child!” Spy struggled to speak with his cut lips. “He has a whole life ahead of him!”

“Will you talk, then?” Olivia challenged, stepping over towards Spy. Scout was firmly held between two of her cronies. “I would really appreciate knowing where that Austrailium is.”

Scout’s eyes went wide. Spy’s functional one met his, and Scout shook his head slightly, agreeing with the older man. If Olivia got access to any of that rare mineral, then they might as well kiss their lives goodbye regardless of killer robots or not.

Spy went quiet again.

“Break his wrist.” Olivia casually tossed the instructions over her shoulder, and Scout barely had a moment to think before the men grabbed his arm and hand, then twisted. He screamed the whole way through and peaked at the snap, yet could not even press his injured hand to his stomach as he had been grabbed again. Sure, he had broken his wrist before, what the hell did you think the guards were for, just punching? but this was deliberately slow and painful. “Talk, please. Tell me where the Australium is, and then I’ll leave you both alone. If you don’t… well, I wonder what kind of running career a man with broken femurs and spine could have.”

Spy howled in frustration, the tears that had been in his eyes from pain rising up with the torrent.

“This is not-” he struggled to compose himself, accidentally tightening the ropes on him as he tried to get into a more honorable position. “Leave him out of this.”

“Well, you, no matter how hard you hurt, aren’t talking!” Olivia barked, making both lanky men wince with the sheer adultness in her voice, yet at least the words she said were a little childish. “And I need my answers! So I’ll hurt the ones you love most! I know how much money and effort you spend and struggle with this one. A few DNA tests helped a bit too, but you practically admitted it yourself a couple of times.”

Scout tried his best not to listen to the treacherous words coming from the mouth of a child. He and Spy were… complicated. Spy did care about him, in his awkward way, and did dote on him compared to the other members of the team (well, they all doted on him in their own ways), but Scout, he knew that there was an iceberg between them that neither wanted to address, especially not in this way.

“Just leave him alone,” Spy begged. “His mother would kill me.”

Olivia shrugged.

“Then you’d both be dead.”

Spy swore under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. Scout gave him a look, telling him through a puffed chest and slight smirk that he could handle this, no matter what. If Spy could handle getting his ass handed to him on the dirt, then Scout could too. Hell, he even died before. This would be an easy game in comparison.

“I will not tell you where the Australium is.”

“That’s a pity,” Olivia sighed, pouting. “Well, then break the little runner’s leg.”

“Whoa, whoa, settle down there, little Miss Mann,” Spy and Scout almost cried out of relief, Engineer, coming in without a single weapon aside a fancy looking wrench. His overalls had been hastily pulled over his t-shirt pajamas, and the bit of grease on his face told of a man who had repaired his machines before going on out. “Let’s talk this out like civilized folk.”

“Hmph, hello Dr. Conagher,” Olivia nodded as politely as she could. “I guess I could try doing that.”

“Well, if you ask me, none of us would be in any of this mess had people just opened their hearts and mouths a bit more,” Engineer smiled, though it was impossible to see where he was looking. Olivia sat down at a solid looking table, and pointed to the chair beside her. Engineer cautiously made his way to sit down, running on a wish and a prayer. “Don’t you agree, ma’am?”

She blushed, clearly not used to southern charm nor being spoken to so sweetly, and she tampered down her confused emotions by drawing the knife from under the table and swiftly stabbing Engineer’s hand right through onto the table, and a sapper went just as neatly onto his Gunslinger.

“Engie!” Scout shouted at the same time Spy gasped, “Ingénieur!”

Said man had no reaction to their concern. Instead, he stared at the wound for a moment, then at his no longer functional prosthetic.

“Well, shucks.” he commented, as if the situation was as mundane as finding out your trashcan had been toppled in the night by Soldier’s raccoon. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” she sniffed arrogantly. “And now, I can get back to the point.”

She punctuated the last word with a spin and slap to Spy’s already tender face.

“Hey, hey, don’t hurt ‘im,” Engineer protested. A bit of his blood started dripping down the table from his elbow. “He gave you his answer, he doesn’t want to talk. I dunno what you want, but it’s not worth killing two defenseless men.”

“Oh, you’d disagree if you knew what I was looking for,” Olivia sneered. “It’s only the most important thing in the world.”

“Love?” Engineer asked with absolute befuddlement. Spy, Scout, and Olivia all laughed at his bewilderment, making him flush with a touch of embarrassment. “Well, it was worth a shot….”

“It was cute,” Olivia smiled. “But no cigar. Just like that one’s wishes that you were his father.”

Spy’s eyes flicked to Scout and then down to the ground in shame. He knew that Engineer was a better father figure towards Scout than he ever had been; though with said man’s encouragement, he was doing a little better.

“Come now, it’s actually really funny!” Olivia insisted through giggles. “Scout doesn’t look anything like Dr. Conagher, and he’s not even a quarter as smart!”

“Miss, that’s just plain rude,” Dell scolded. “Scout’s brilliant in his own ways. If I was in a situation that needed quick thinkin’, I’d ask Scoot for help.”

Scout glowed at the praise. Spy smiled at the sight.

“Well, he’s also a quarter as ugly as you,” Olivia sputtered, confused by his parental nature. Engineer’s eyebrows shot up, and Spy felt a little bad for him as he noticed the slight tinge growing on his cheeks. “It’s a wonder that he’s got a fancy for you at all! After all, his tastes are much more… fabulous and expensive than you.”

It took a moment for all three of them to process what she was saying. The little blush that was on Engineer’s cheeks grew tenfold. Scout stared at Spy, who seemed so shocked that he lost the ability to close his mouth at all.

Then he closed it with a resolve so strong they heard it crack.

Or rather, his new cyanide tooth.

“Spah, no!” Engineer yelped, panic audible in his voice for the first time that night. “No, spit that out right now!”

Spy gave him a smile that struggled to hold in the froth that built in his mouth, and swallowed. Scout heard screaming that he did not know was his own until Engineer snapped him out of it with a hoarse shout of his own.

“Damnit Spy!”

Olivia was just as miffed, with all due honesty. With a viciously sharp scowl, she pressed hard onto Spy’s throat with the bottom of her dainty shoe, and when she was sure he was dead, spat on his body. Engineer muttered a curse, pale and with water building up on the inside of his goggles.

“He’s useless now. Let the others go, we’re leaving,” she huffed, getting into her limousine. She threw at Engineer his wrench, no longer caring.

“Damnit, damn, goddamnit,” he whispered, shaking. The two men holding Scout let him go on Olivia’s signal, and he ran over to Engineer, his own vision blurring from sheer emotion that he tuned right out of. Before he or Engineer even realized, the group of their assailants had left. “Pull out the knife, Scout, swift and smooth.”

Scout, not trusting his voice, nodded and did as he was asked. Engineer let out a shaky sigh as he flexed his sore blue fingers, wrapping them around his wrench.

“Grab onto me.”

Again, Scout listened. Engineer gave a last glance to Spy’s corpse and there was a bright flash of light, whisking them to home respawn. No one else was there to greet them.

“He’s dead, isn't he?” Scout asked quietly. The tears he had been holding in slowly started to drip down his face.

“He ain’t dead ‘til three coroners say he is,” Engineer tried his best not to snap, but those words scared him more than he ever wanted to admit. Respawn was a quick little trick to immortality, but only as long as it was working, and as long as the body was able to handle it. “I’m going ta try an overwrite. I need ya to spit on this.”

“Wh- spit? On that panel?” Scout’s sadness shifted suddenly to confusion. “Why?”

“Just do it, boy,” Engineer pleaded. “Do it and hope with all your might that I can get this ta work.”

Scout did.

Heaven help him, he hoped.

Engineer pressed buttons, shifted knobs, and slid the panel back into place.

A minute passed.

Then another.

Engineer slammed his fist onto the mainframe, yanking off his goggles, the tears that had accumulated splashing onto the floor.

“Damnit!” he sobbed. “No!”

Scout hesitantly patted his shoulder, and Engineer swooped around to hug him, crying into the young man’s chest.

“‘M so sorry, Jeremy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

A warm glow hit them, and Spy groaned, rushing to rinse his mouth.

“Disgusting,” he huffed, and then Scout punched him, hugging him immediately after. Spy hugged him back gently. “Thank you for the warm reception.”

He stepped away to light a cigarette, and looked up to see Engineer’s stare.

The moment after Spy put his cigarette to his lips, Engineer stepped forward and wrapped him into a hug, holding onto him as though his life depended on it.

"Never do that again." Engineer whispered against his neck and shoulder. He was trembling badly, hands gripping tightly onto Spy’s suit.

Spy slowly hugged him back, ignoring the smoldering cigarette.

“I won’t.”

[apocalypseornaw]

Ending/Beginning

For the enemies to lovers square on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Inspired by the show revolution (sort of) y'all I'm nervous AF to post this cause it's reader x OC but i hope y'all like it

Word count: 10,247 it long

Warnings: Cursing, violence

The apocalypse, the end of the world. Everything as it was known coming to an end. No matter how you wanted to describe it that time was now. You never would’ve dreamed that the end of the world wouldn’t have been fire or ice. No the world ended a lot quieter than that. No dead rose, no monsters crawled out of hell. Electricity simply went away, all the power sources that ran everything went off grid. You watched as the world slowly plummeted into turmoil. You had your group, all of you would fight to the death for each other, you believed that somehow humanity could survive the problem was not every group believed as yours did.Good and evil, things that at one time had clearly been black and white were now washed in shades of grey.

You were on guard duty, walking the length of the walls that surrounded the compound you called home. A team had left a few days before and had yet to return. You were getting more anxious as the days drug on. You finally spotted movement towards the east and ran quietly along the wall so as to not bring any alert to anyone walking below. When you spotted the group missing some of its main members breach the treeline you felt the knot in the pit of your stomach double in size.  “OPEN THE GATES” you screamed quickly climbing down the ladder running the moment your boots hit the dirt to meet the horses as they came inside. “Where are they?” you asked Sam before he ever got the chance to dismount. Your eyes flicked across the group that were with him clocking the injuries on each person, Sam included. You’d grown up with the Winchesters brothers, all three of you practically being raised by Bobby They were the closest thing to family you had and Dean’s absence along with Charlie’s and Garth’s was glaringly obvious to anyone. 

“We were ambushed. They took them and left a message for Bobby” he explained coming to stand next to you before handing his horse off to someone else so they could see to it that the animals all of you had come to rely on was taken care of. “Which is?” you pushed but he glanced around at the growing crowd “Not here, come with me” you followed him through the compound not falling behind despite his height advantage on you. You had a feeling what fate had befallen your friends and the rage gnawing at you was growing larger every second that passed. 

When Sam grabbed your arm and pulled you into Bobby’s quarters he glanced up from cleaning a gun and smiled when he saw the two of you but his face quickly fell when he realized Dean was not in tow and that Sam had visible injuries. “What happened?” he asked and you cut your eyes at Sam silently echoing the same question. “Kaper’s men. They found out about the power core” “SON OF A BITCH” you growled kicking a chair across the floor. 

Josiah Kaper was about the furthest you could get from Bobby as a leader went. Where Bobby was trying to push for a way for humanity to somehow dig itself out from under the shit show that had developed in the world Josiah wanted nothing more than to find a way to benefit from it. 

He had three sons David the oldest who from your run-ins with him honestly didn’t want to be associated with his father’s name he’d even helped you out of a tight spot years back when everything started falling apart in the world. Then was the middle son Jonah who was ruthless and heartless. You had a scar running the length of your left arm from the only run-in you’d ever had with him. Had Dean not been so quick on the trigger you wouldn’t have walked away, a few members of your group hadn’t. Dante the youngest son who was closest to your age you’d never had any run-ins with but this attack was personal. Bobby wanted the power core to develop a better hospital system. You’d lost a few people simply for the fact that without any power source the doctors you had didn’t have the equipment they needed to perform some surgeries. Not to mention having to stay off the radar of the militia, didn’t want any of them getting it in their heads that your group had anything they may want.

Dean had figured out a few alternatives but even the best mind couldn’t solve everything on it’s own. Josiah on the other hand, you could only imagine what he wanted with the core. 

“Give me a team, we’ll get them back without having to deal with Josiah” You spoke without a second thought. Either of the three they’d taken would come for you so you owed it to them. “What’s your plan?” Bobby asked so you shrugged “They know I’m one of yours, same as Sam and Dean. Makes a bullseye on me so I play decoy while my team locates and releases Dean, Charlie and Garth” “And if they manage to get their hands on you too?” Sam questioned so you shot him a wink “Oh ye of little faith. Don’t worry Sammy they’ll never get close enough to lay a finger on me” Bobby stared you down for what felt like an eternity before nodding “Ok but sweetheart do me a favor?” “Yes sir?” you asked so he half smiled “Make it back in one piece”

"I'm coming with you" Sam spoke and you shook your head motioning to the visible marks on him "No you're gonna go to medical and get checked over. I'm going to go poke around and see if the ones I have in mind for this are up to it, I have no doubt they will be but I still give them the courtesy of asking" 

------

You knew Alicia and Max would be at the front of the line to volunteer to go as soon as word spread. They had long since been your best friends and considering Charlie was Alicia’s girlfriend there would have been no leaving the twins behind even if they hadn’t been on your top pick to go. 

Kevin and Claire were easy picks as well. Kevin, that damn kid you swore could blow up a mountain with some baking soda and vinegar. As fair as for Claire there hadn’t been a lock you met she couldn’t get through fast and easy.  Rounding out your band of misfits as Bobby so lovingly called you all was Benny. He was a big dude, a damn good fighter and not scared of a lot. 

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked looking at the map you’d spread out across the table in his and Eileen’s quarters. “I know Kaper and I know Dean. If they’re managing to actually hold him, Garth and Charlie, it's gotta be here” you pointed to a building near the northern wall of Josiah’s compound. “The problem is where as we as a group try to steer clear of the militia, he supplies them with pretty much anything they want to look the other way on him pilfering anything he can from the old power sources that’s been uncovered where the rest of us are barely scraping” “So you’re looking at the possibility of heavy firepower” Eileen guessed and you nodded glancing up to make sure you were facing her as you spoke “That’s where I come in. I draw their fire so to speak here” you pointed to the end of the compound furthest from the building you suspected your people were being held in. “By yourself?” she questioned and you knew she didn’t like your plan anymore than Sam or Bobby had. “I’ll be fine Eileen. I promise. By the time they realize I’m there everyone else will be in position. Once they have our people I’ll draw them out further and chunk a few of Kevin’s presents out amongst their ranks just to stir some fun up”

“And if something happens to block your path back around to meet up with everyone else?” Sam asked so you shrugged nonchalantly “Well I can honestly say I will make em earn it and I fully expect the lot of you to give em hell in return” “You’re insane” Eileen reasoned and you smiled at her “That, my dear is part of my charm!”

-------

Kaper’s compound wasn’t set up much differently than the one all of you lived in, the only difference being where when your compound was first established you went for the comfort of the many while it was clear Josiah went for the comfort of himself. His people had well enough living quarters but the building in the center was twice as plush as everyone else’s and while there were guards on their walls the same as yours he also had guards in front of his quarters.

The cement building against the northern corner of the wall was where they kept prisoners. There had been more than one scouting mission around Kaper’s compound to have a basic understanding of what was where. Luckily for your group there was a series of caves not far from the compound that could offer you shelter off the main road while you strategized one final time before actually putting your plan into action.  

------

You tied your horse Helios at the head of the cave then walked deeper in where Benny had built a low fire. He was crouched down looking at the map you’d gotten Alex to sketch out. “Tell me this plan one more time” You could feel the twins and Claire watching you when Benny spoke. Kevin was doing some final touches to his part of the plan so he was preoccupied. You squatted next to Benny and pointed towards the prisoner quarters. 

“That’s where they’ll have Dean, Charlie and Garth” he nodded so you then pointed towards the eastern gate that was closest to Josiah’s quarters “I’m going to get their attention here, draw the main guards out. I’ll use a few of Kev’s low grade toys so as to cause more chaos than actual loss of life, just enough to make everyone look at me. In the meantime all of you will head in over here” you pointed towards where the western and northern wall met “There’s a weak spot unless they’ve fixed it in the last month which I seriously doubt. Even if they did, Kev has a corrosive to make a hole big enough for all of you to slip in, find our people and get the hell out” “Promise me one thing though darling?” he asked so you tilted your head to look at him “Name it Lafitte”

“If something goes south where you’re concerned wait for me at the gate because the moment Dean finds out I agreed to let you do this I won’t be far behind”  You offered him a small smile “Oh come on now he won’t kill ya” he raised an eyebrow that was clearly a nonverbal way of disagreeing but Kevin walked over about that time and handed you a canvas bag “The pipe bombs won’t cause a lot of damage but if you get in a tight spot grab a few of the round ones and chunk em. They’ll take out anything within a ten foot blast zone” You thanked him then stood up and glanced around. Claire held your gaze for a moment while both twins gave you a sharp nod “I’m not one for rousing speeches so I’ll just say wish me luck and remember if all else fails give em hell and make em earn it” 

Claire rolled her eyes “Christ Y/N, Dean gives better pre-fight speeches than that!” you shrugged “And that is why I’m going to get him back” 

------

You stopped at the perimeter of the treeline that was your last bit of cover before the guards would spot you. You and Benny had agreed on a five minute mark to make sure they were in place. You pulled the old wind up pocket watch out of your jeans and glanced to see it had been exactly five minutes. Well now or never.

You clicked your tongue and Helios trotted forward. The guards spotted you the moment you left the cover of the trees and hollered “STOP THERE. WHAT’S YOUR BUSINESS?” you stopped but slid your hand into the canvas bag “I CAME TO DELIVER A MESSAGE” you lit the first pipe bomb and chunked it over the wall. It landed at the first guard’s feet causing him to topple backwards down to the dirt.

The guards and inhabitants of the compound went into a flurry of motion so you rode down the wall throwing just enough pipe bombs over to ensure every guard was paying attention to the “threat” at the eastern wall and not the rescue party at the northwestern wall. 

Once the gates opened and guards started pouring out, some on foot but most on horseback you lit one more pipe bomb and threw it in their general direction before hollering “CATCH ME IF YOU CAN ASSHOLES” then clicked your tongue again gently kicking Helios' sides as she took off at a gallop for the trees hearing the shouts of the guards following you. ‘Good keep all your eyes on me’ you thought to yourself as you leaned down closer to Helios to avoid limbs that were threatening to whip across your face as you rode deeper into the woods.

------

Benny and Claire had told you they didn’t need longer than eight minutes to get in, find your people and get out. Of course playing a game of solo mouse versus about twenty guards who were the cats was easier said than done.

Helios went around a tree and muscle memory alone was the only thing keeping you on her back. You fumbled for the watch again and saw six minutes had passed. Christ you still had two more minutes to keep them close enough that they would stay in pursuit but far enough that they couldn’t catch you. 

You were getting close to the lake that was nearby so you headed in that direction. You had two pipe bombs left in the bag and two of those round ones for a tight spot as Kevin had put it. When you got close to the water’s edge you slowed her enough to let the guards catch up slightly and muttered a prayer under your breath before throwing one of the round ones into the water’s edge then kicked her sides again. She tore out in a gallop and you could feel the water from the blast hit your back followed by a lot of cursing. From the sounds of it you hadn’t killed anyone but you’d discouraged their chase and hopefully disoriented them enough that by the time they got back to the compound the smoke would have cleared. 

------

Dark was falling and they’d never attempt to go after all of you once it fell completely. You had the advantage, your people were more used to the dark than Kaper’s because you only used the power sources you had sparingly. Your plan was to double back around to the caves where everyone was waiting for you. Benny was under strict orders that if you weren’t there within ten minutes of them arriving to knock Dean out if need be to make him leave you behind.

You didn’t expect to see a lone rider waiting not far from the lake. You thought your eyes were playing tricks on you when the large black horse first moved, thinking it was a trick of the light and a shadow. A horse that size shouldn’t move that quietly.

You clicked your tongue and tugged the reins in the opposite direction but when Helios pitched the other way the black horse simply gave chase. Shit who the hell was that? You could hear your heart beating in your ears. You had no choice but to lead whoever it was away from your people. There was no telling the shape everyone was in considering if they managed to keep those three contained they may have even gone to the extent of drugging them.  

You had to slow when you got into the thicket of the woods because in the lowering light you could barely see where you were going. You felt something hit your left shoulder hard a half second before you were falling from Helios trying to brace yourself against the shock of the fall. You grunted when you hit the dirt then rolled to be in more of a defensive posture. You could hear the other horse slow before the sound of boots hitting the dirt hard met your ears.

You clicked your tongue trying to get Helios to circle around but before you could get back onto her you heard someone say “I’ll be damned, a woman did all that?” you spun to face the voice and cursed when you saw the gun pointed loosely in your direction. He was a couple inches taller than you, nice athletic built and clearly a fighter. There was still enough light you could make out the bit of stubble gracing his jaw line and the way his eyes held you made you fight the urge to look away. There was something vaguely familiar about him.Hell had he not been pointing a gun at you and from Kaper’s group you would’ve called him attractive but at the moment he simply had a target on him for you to figure out how to get out of this spot with both of you still breathing. 

“And to think we’re called the weaker sex?” you replied with a defiant tilt of your head despite the fact that his gun was out and pointed and yours was still resting at your lower back. He chuckled slightly “You’re one of Singer’s. Y/N isn't it?” you smiled and held your arms out “How can you say that for certain that I'm not just simply a thief that happened along at an opportune time?” “Because I know for a fact that Dean Winchester along with two more of Singer’s group was in our grasp”

It suddenly hit you why the man across from you looked vaguely familiar “You’re Kaper's other son” he nodded slowly “Dante Kaper at your service sweetheart” You narrowed your eyes at him “Stow the sweetheart bullshit. I’ve got a scar from your brother and I was one of the lucky ones that day. I know the type of man you are” He nodded then motioned to his horse with the gun in his hand “Well in that case why don’t you hop on up there?”

“Kill me first, that’s the only way” He reached out to grab your arm and you let him because you knew getting close enough was your only chance of getting free. He pulled you back against his chest “I don’t want to hurt you but the same way that your people hate mine, you just blew up half our wall and knocked most of my guards on their ass” “Oh well” you muttered before throwing your elbow back as hard as you could at his midsection and was rewarded with the sound of his gun being dropped to the dirt as a grunt left him “Should’ve known it’d be a hand to hand thing”

You  spun around to face him and narrowly avoided his return blow. You swung on him but he caught your arm then swept your legs out from under you when you went down you managed to kick your leg out as soon as your back hit the dirt and it connected with his leg. “Son of a bitch” you groaned, pushing yourself to your feet. You started to make a run for it but Dante recovered faster than you would’ve hoped. He was on his feet and grabbing you before you could make it two steps. 

The moment he spun you around to face him you swung and connected a solid punch to his jaw. He staggered just a moment then kicked out and managed to connect with your stomach. You went with the blow letting your own momentum take you down. You were counting on his arrogance being his downfall and that proved to ring true when he came to stand over you “Guess you can’t hang with the men huh sweetheart?” “Don’t you wish” you replied, kicking out hard to catch him dead center in the crotch.  The moment he went down to his knees you took off running and whistled for Helios. She came running up so you hoisted yourself onto her back “Let’s go” she galloped away and you could barely hear the hollered curses from Dante as he faded from your sight.

------

When you got closer to the caves you checked the time that had passed and cursed under your breath. God if they had to knock Dean out to get him to leave you behind it was going to get really messy when he came to. 

You slowed Helios down to a trot and whistled the tune you and Benny always used when you were on the same team. After a few seconds you heard the whistle repeated so you urged her forward.

You hopped down at the head of the cave and saw the other horses tied up. You tied her next to Claire’s horse then walked into the cave entrance. The moment you came into view you were snatched into a hug from Charlie. “Y/N!” you couldn’t help but smile at seeing her mostly unscathed. There were clear signs of the fight when they’d been taken but beyond that it appeared as though Kaper hadn’t attempted to torture them. You’d gotten there before that point. 

Once she released you Garth was there slapping your hand in a high five “Now that’s what I call a rescue mission ma’am!” you winked at him but your smile quickly fell when Dean stepped away from the corner where he’d been talking with Benny. Your eyes skimmed across him clocking the cut over his eye, the bruising on the side of his face and just how bloodied his knuckles were “I call that insanity. What the hell were you thinking?” you grimaced slightly at his tone bracing yourself before saying “I call that pulling your ass out the fire, same as you’ve done for pretty much all of us” 

He studied you for a second before a grin split his face and he pulled you into a hug “Kid you are completely insane but damn I would’ve loved to see Kaper’s face when those pipe bombs started going off” you touched your stomach where you caught a boot from Dante and Dean tracked your movements with his eyes “What happened?” Benny who had been silent stepped up behind you and when he touched your left shoulder it was only then that you realized the branch that had knocked you off Helios had torn through your jacket and shirt. “I officially met Dante Kaper”

“Did you kick his ass?” Max asked and you shrugged “I’d have to say that meeting was fifty, fifty. I got away from him because he underestimated me and got kicked in the family jewels as a reward for it” Alicia covered her mouth as she laughed “In that case I’d say you won it” You glanced around eyeing the lot of them. Out the rescue team from the looks of it none of them had even been in a fight. Benny’s knuckles weren’t even bloodied. Kevin was a little windblown but that was because he’d been at the forefront of any explosions they’d set off. “All of us are in one piece and can make it home. I call that a win” 

Ninety percent of the time you tried your best to abide by what few rules were in place. You as one of Bobby’s surrogate kids had to be on your best behaviour to show everyone else in your compound that all was treated equal but when a meeting was being held to arrange an escort to Denver for a supply run to the encampment there and you weren’t invited it more than pissed you off.

You stood in front of the meeting room door for several minutes trying to talk yourself out of what you were about to do. It didn’t work of course. You started to walk away then said screw it and shoved the door open. Bobby,Sam, Dean,Benny and Jody were sitting around a table marking the route off. “Took her longer than I thought it would” Benny admitted with a nod to Dean.

Jody raised an eyebrow at you “Y/N? Bobby said you weren’t feeling too well” you cut your eyes at Bobby who shook his head “Don’t even start kid. You know you can’t go on this run” “Why not? When have I suddenly become persona non grata?” “When you went a few rounds with a Kaper” Dean answered for Bobby.

You barked out a harsh laugh then drew the chair from next to Sam and sat down “Then I guess you nor Charlie nor Garth is going on this run either then? Because while they didn’t see the crew that busted you out they know you got out” 

Sam sighed and turned slightly in his chair to face you “Still turns back around to you Y/N. Since they in fact didn’t see the crew they probably assumed you set some sort of timer to bust the whole in the back wall before getting their attention on the front. Them taking the three of them goes against the agreement set forth by the militia so they can’t exactly report it but they more than likely have a grudge against the person who blew half their wall up and knocked most of their guards and one of Kaper’s sons flat on his ass”  You leaned forward on your elbows and glanced around the table.

Dean and Benny immediately shared a look from the expression on your face and Bobby closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh before you ever spoke “So you’re telling me that lil ol me gets the credit for pulling off a rescue mission, destroying their over the top wall that wasn’t even very functional to begin with and kicking Dante’s ass all on my own. Hmm sounds to me like I need to go along Kaper’s men may think twice about messing with the crew if they spot me with them”

“If we don’t let her go we all know either she’ll saddle Helios and follow us anyways or get into something worse” Dean finally said and Jody winked at you “Well you boys may need some backup” “Don’t encourage her!” Bobby groaned then waved a hand at you “Go grab your gear. Dean will round up everyone else” you stood up and winked at Jody before walking out.

------

You were riding behind Benny towards the back of the wagon. It would be left with the encampment so the trip back would be cut by a day. Everyone was talking to whoever was closest to them or just keeping an eye on the surrounding area. Once the supplies were handed off and inside walls the militia weren’t as prone to mess with them but out here in the open it was a more free game.

There was a reason why you, Alicia and Max had spent weeks mapping out the natural caves along any routes all of you took. If you couldn’t find an old building with a garage area for the cart you would park it inside of the cave then make camp outside of it where anyone looking to steal would have to go past whoever was on guard at the moment and everyone sleeping.

“Benny you got this for a minute?” you asked and he cut his eyes at you and nodded “Yeah I got this darling. Guess you’re gonna poke at Dean a lil bit?” you grinned and clicked your tongue so Helios headed in the direction you pointed her which was the head of your group where Dean was looking as stoic as ever while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

He barely acknowledged your presence but you knew that he knew you were there. “Are you really mad at me for getting you out?” you asked and he shook his head. 

You knew he wasn’t but you were going to make him say the words out loud. “I’m pissed off at you for putting yourself at risk like that. What if those guards would’ve caught up with you? Or what if Dante would’ve actually won that fight?”

“Then you would’ve come and got me. It would’ve gone a lot bloodier than my method but I have faith that worse case scenario you would’ve made Kaper regret the day he was born” Dean was quiet for a moment before finally looking at you “Y/N..dammit you’re in the same category as Sam. I can survive losing a lot. I don’t know if I can survive losing either of you. Before you say it I know you’re plenty capable. I’d rather have you at my back then most men I know but that doesn’t change the fact that if you would’ve gotten killed saving my ass..I would’ve slaughtered every man in that place” “What about the women on his guard?” you asked and he narrowed his eyes “Don’t be a smartass just say you see my point” 

“I see your point but that’s the same reason why I couldn’t leave you there. Dean you almost killed Jonah. If I hadn’t been bleeding that bad you would’ve. You’re a high value target for Josiah so I’m not gonna attempt to lie to you I’d do it all over again but I do honestly see why you got pissed at me so can we call truce now?” he nodded and held a hand out so you shook it with a laugh “Glad we got that settled now let me get back to my post before Benny starts talking to his horse again”

------

Your group was about two days away from the Denver encampment. You’d stopped to make camp for the night. There was an old housing development that got abandoned when the end happened so it was a bunch of half built houses that had been mainly reclaimed by nature. There was one at the end that only had a few finishing touches to the place so that was where you picked for the night. The cart was parked in the garage so everyone made beds around it. All of you had slept in worse places.

“Y/N you and Sam take first shift then wake me and Benny up for second shift” Dean announced so you nodded in agreement as you pulled your jacket onto your shoulders “Aye aye Cap” then nodded at Sam “C’mon Samuel” he shook his head with a laugh but followed you out the side door of the garage that led back outside.

------

The full moon was nearly bright enough you could read by it. You were on your third trip around the house keeping an eye on the perimeter. Every time you’d pass Sam one of you would tell the other some stupid joke or random fact to pass the time. There was only another hour left of your guard shift then you could take over Dean’s bed to catch a little sleep before finishing the last leg of this trip.

Once the cart was dropped off your group didn’t have to take the main road home and weren’t as high value of a target for the militia or the road bandits. Even in this day and age you had people that would rather steal then even attempt to provide for themselves in a halfway honest way.

It was a bit disappointing that the one thing you could still count on was that mankind could still be major douches regardless of the time. You were thinking of another weird fact to tell Sam considering your fact of what raccoons could fit inside of made him swear to sleep on his back from here on out every time he slept outside would make you laugh for a week.

A movement towards the woods a few houses down caught your eye. You weren’t quite sure what it was but actually hoped for bandits versus Militia or any of Kaper’s men. You knew Sam would be coming around the corner of the house in a minute and if you mentioned it to him he’d want to check it out with you but you couldn’t leave the house completely unguarded.

You whistled one sharp note and Sam whistled back before coming around the corner quickly “What’s wrong Y/N?” you nodded towards the treeline “I think I saw something. I’m gonna go check it out. Don’t leave guard post unless you hear me scream then feel free to tell on me to Dean and bring everyone running deal?” He followed your line of sight then looked back at you “You’ve got exactly two minutes” you grinned at him “I only need one Samuel” then headed towards the treeline being careful to make your footsteps as quiet as possible.

You reached for the knife at your side. You had your gun tucked at your lower back but if it turned more into a close quarters deal the knife would be a better option. The moment you stepped into the shadows of the trees you felt a hand grab you and you were slammed backwards into a tree. Before you even focus to try to see the assailant you had your knife at their throat.

You realized you were looking up into none other than Dante Kaper’s dark brown eyes “You know you’re something else Y/N” he grunted flinching slightly from the pressure you had on the blade. “Been called worse by better Dante” you replied putting as much venom as you could in your voice and he smiled despite the fact that you were nearly drawing blood “You need to move your people. The militia is headed this way. They’ll be through before daylight”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap to make us move so your people can attack us down the road?” you asked and his grip on your arms tightened slightly “If I wanted your people dead I could’ve shot you and Dean's brother then burned the garage to the ground besides I kind of like having someone around to give me a run for my money. Makes life a lot more interesting”

“And why do I tell Dean we need to move? Can’t exactly say a Kaper said so” you replied easing the pressure slightly on his throat. He glanced down at the blade then slowly released your arms “You’re a resourceful woman. I’m sure you’ll think of something” you stared at him for a few breaths before putting your knife back at your side “If this is a trap you better hope they kill me fast because I’ll make sure you regret it” he had the audacity to wink at you before saying “See? Now comments like that make me want to keep you alive just because that much fire deserves to be fed”

He disappeared into the woods and a few seconds later you heard his horse moving away and cursed yourself for not clocking that big of a beast. “You bastard” you whispered to the night then realized the two minutes had more than likely passed so you quickly breached the tree line again to be back in Sam’s line of sight before he could wake Dean up.

He ran to meet you halfway “What was it?” you shook your head “I don’t know but we need to move. We’re close to a few caverns we can make it to one and still rest a bit before hitting the road again” he stepped in front of you before you got your hand on the door leading into the garage “Woah Y/N if it was nothing why are you hell bent on moving?” you met his eyes and took a deep breath “You trust me right?” “Of course” he answered a quick reply built on years of both of you trusting the other’s instinct. You hated lying to him but something told you Dante was being honest and you didn’t want to chance the supplies that were desperately needed in the Denver encampment being confiscated. 

“Let’s get them up then” you finally added so he stepped to the side and simply followed you into the garage.

------

Surprisingly enough when you woke Dean to say you felt like your team needed to move he didn’t even attempt to question you. He simply gave out orders and the lot of you moved silently through the woods to the caverns you’d pointed out on the map.

Once everyone was settled back down at the cavern though you noticed that Dean and Benny both had pulled Sam to the side of the group and the three of them kept throwing glances in your direction. What were you supposed to tell them if they questioned you further? That you were taking an enemy at his word because why exactly? You weren’t even sure yourself why you’d believed Dante besides the fact that he was indeed telling the truth that had he wanted any of you dead it would’ve been simple enough to do.

You pushed the thought out of your head and curled up next to Helios for the night. By the time the sun was peeking out onto the ground your team was already on the road once again. 

------

“So successful drop off done now for the trip home” you said riding between Sam and Dean. Dean glanced over your head at Sam and nodded once. You watched as Sam fell off and matched his pace with Benny instead no doubt giving you and Dean room to talk or rather Dean room to question you.

You remained silent for a few moments before saying “Well get on with it” he cut his eyes at you then looked back ahead of him “Get on with what exactly Y/N?” you sighed running your fingers through Helios’ mane “Asking me why I moved us in the middle of the night” “And why exactly was that?” he questioned and you felt a knot in your stomach start to form. On one hand you didn’t want to lie to Dean about anything but on the other hand you’d done the one thing all of you had sworn to never do..you trusted a Kaper. Even as far as David Dean simply avoided.

You shrugged “I just had a bad feeling. Best case scenario we ride back through and nothing is touched meaning I overreacted to a bad feeling” “But if we ride back through and proof that the militia has been through is there I’ve got to explain why you’ve either suddenly grown psychic powers or why the little birdies flying around have decided to start conversing with you” 

You were stunned into silence simply because you’d never actually had Dean accuse you of anything. It was a strange feeling but you also became acutely defensive “What exactly are you accusing me of?” you asked and he turned fully to look at you trusting his horse to remain on the path he’d been pointed “Someone was in those woods last night when you went to check it out. You can lie to Sammy but you can’t lie to me. Who was it?” At your silence he cleared his throat then looked back at Sam who came up to join the two of you yet again “Sam you and Benny take lead. Me and Y/N are gonna fall to watch the rear and have a little chat since she’s apparently now being shy of groups”

You cut your eyes at Benny when he came up to take your spot at the head of the group “You good darling?” you nodded once then clicked your tongue to get Helios to follow Dean. 

Once the two of you were at the rear of your group with no possibility of anyone over hearing a conversation Dean got his horse close enough to Helios that had the two not been around each other for so many years they never would’ve willingly rode that close “Now talk to me.You know I’ve always backed you up but I need to know who told you we should move?” you sighed and refused to meet his eyes but answered “Dante” you barely looked in his direction but saw his jaw clenching and unclenching “Please don’t be mad at me Dean. I had my knife to his throat but he had a point. He could’ve fucking sniped me and Sam then barbequed the rest of you if he had wanted to!” 

“So? What are you trusting him now?” Dean’s voice was sharper than you’d ever heard it pointed at you. He reached across the space between the two of you and snatched your jacket off your left arm to show the thick jagged scar that started at your wrist and disappeared underneath the short sleeve of your shirt “His brother did this! I found you nearly dead. Sam held you in his arms the entire ride back to our doctors and you know what? I heard him pray Y/N! Who the hell he was praying to in all of this I don’t know but we thought we would lose you. We lost Jo, Ash and Rufus that day! A Kaper did that! Out of every possible enemy in this world the god damn Kapers have been a thorn in our side for longer than anything! You really think you can trust him? Even David is only passable because he got away from Josiah and we haven’t heard anything from him since. Dante went back to his daddy’s compound and probably reported that Bobby’s girl was stupid enough to trust him!”

You felt hot tears spring to your eyes at his words. You turned your head stubbornly so he wouldn’t see them and took a few deep breaths before replying “I don’t trust him Dean but I had to weigh the options and protecting all of you was the most important thing” your voice broke slightly as you shrugged your jacket back up on your arm. Dean reached as if to touch your shoulder but you flinched away from him “Not right now Dean. I know you just want to protect me but I just can’t right now”

“Chief, are we checking it out?” Benny called from the front nodding towards the path that would take you back out to where the housing complex was. Dean looked at you then announced “Everyone wait here for a few. C’mon Benny” you watched them ride off then locked eyes with Sam. The look on his face alone was enough to ask if you were ok. You gave a sharp nod.

Within a few moments Dean and Benny were rejoining your group. You didn’t look in Dean’s direction when he came back to ride at your side but he still offered “For what it counts the militia destroyed it and left their mark” “Why did he warn me?” you asked honestly shocked that Dante’s warning had rang true. “That’s the question isn’t it?”

The moment Bobby heard that Dante had reached out to you and in fact actually told the truth about the militia coming through you knew that would be the end of you being allowed out on any day to day tasks. You had no idea why he’d even been in that area that night or how he’d located your group let alone why he’d want to actually protect your group. Hell you’d fought him the first time you met him then that knife had drawn a line of blood from his throat while he gave his warning. It was a predicament to say the least and and left you feeling like a fucking leper considering only Sam, Dean and Bobby knew so to everyone else they simply say you sticking close to the compound with no good reason as to why.

You were helping Donna and Jody in the armory trying to simply keep your head down until Bobby and the boys forgot about it and let you out again. “What exactly did you do?” Jody asked sliding more shells across to you since the three of you were currently making more bullets. You shrugged knowing that you very well couldn’t tell another soul that a Kaper had saved your necks. You absentmindedly scratched at the scar on your arm and Donna covered your hand with her own “You know that’s a bad nervous habit sweetie” you shot her a small smile “I think I’m just going a little stir crazy. Even just to take Helios out to stretch her legs I’ve got to take Benny or Max and Alicia with me” “Whatever happened those three will get over it soon enough kid. Just keep pushing they love ya” Jody added with a wink.

------

It went on for a while until you were on guard duty one day walking the length of the wall when Xavier, a rider for a nearby compound which happened to be where your hospital set up was, came riding up to the gate. “LET HIM IN!” you hollered climbing down the ladder to meet him.

When he saw you his eyes flicked around nervously “Y/N.. Dean or Sam around?” you shook your head “No but what’s going on Xavier?” he swallowed hard “They’re on the way to do a walk through of our compound. We don’t have the power core completely buried yet” “Shit.Dean,Benny  and Sam aren’t due back till dark” his eyes looked like they very well may pop out of his head “We have an hour tops” you knew that if you came out on the other side you’d never hear the end of it and that was the best case scenario. 

You nodded to his horse “How fast can it move with two riders?” “Fast enough” he replied. As you were swinging your leg up behind him you heard Max holler your name. Xavier glanced back at you but you simply shook your head “Ignore him. Let’s go” you rode out of the gate motioning for it to be closed behind you already planning in your head a dangerous route but if it came down to it you would do what was necessary to save the most amount of people.

------

Dean was seething with anger and underneath that was the fear. The fear of being too late this time. The fear he’d find you dead. Dammit why did you have to be so fucking selfless? When him and Sam had met up with Max on the trail back he knew something was wrong then when Max told him the last he’d seen of you was you riding off on the back of Xavier’s horse he knew the worst was yet to come.

He rode up to the gate of the compound that housed the hospital set up “OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!” He didn't slow down and rode directly up to the door before climbing off his horse and nearly took the door off the hinges as he stormed inside with Sam and Benny close behind. 

He spotted Micheal the doctor that was over the place “Where is she? What the fuck happened here?” The place was a mess but most of the equipment appeared to be whole. There was evidence a fight had happened and your presence or the lack thereof was a sore thumb along with the puddle of blood in the center of the room.  “Dean you got to know I tried to stop her! I told her to stand down but she refused. She was determined to draw their attention from the power core” the shorter man was clearly scared and for good reason. Benny knowing Dean how he did managed to catch him before he broke the good doctor’s nose “Dean brother we need to hear what happened before we kill him” 

Micheal looked at Sam who shrugged “They’re not gonna kill you” When Micheal almost looked relieved Sam quickly added “But we may make you wish you were dead cause you’re probably gonna have to put yourself back together if we find out you hid while they took Y/N” 

Benny let go of Dean and had a hand around Micheal’s throat in the blink of an eye “Now doc me and you ain’t never had an issue but that girl is like a sister to all three of you. What the hell happened here?” “Jonah was with them” Micheal breathed out and Dean felt his blood run cold.

They never planned this to be an inspection. Josiah and Jonah both knew the one way to get at Bobby, Dean and Sam was to go after Y/N. “Son of a bitch. They were probably watching when we left. He planned the walk through to draw her out knowing she’d never stand by”

Benny dropped Micheal unceremoniously to the floor. “Go over what happened and don’t leave a word out” 

Everything hurt.You knew the moment you’d spotted that chestnut horse amongst the inspection crew that it had all been a lie. You’d been lured out and played directly into their hands. “I’LL KILL YOU” you growled diving at Xavier. You’d trusted him and he’d betrayed all of you. “Sorry Y/N they gave me a better offer than being an errand boy”

You had your hands around his throat when the door was kicked in and you heard a gun cock “Y/N let him go or I’ll kill them” you looked up to see a gun pointed towards Micheal the top doctor and Erika the top field medic. You slowly stood off of Xavier eyes never leaving Jonah’s masked face. “Good girl” he cooed then the moment Xavier was on his feet he put a bullet between his eyes. At your look he shrugged “He’s a rat. Don’t need any rats now do we?”

“Gonna take that mask off and let me see Dean’s handy work?” you taunted eyes flicking towards Micheal and Erika. “Are you going to be nice and come quietly or do my men need to beat you in compliance?” he replied so you squared your shoulders and planted your feet “If you plan on taking me you might as well throw your hat into the ring too darling cause this is gonna be one hell of a fight” 

You ended up coming back to consciousness in the newly reinforced cells of Kaper’s compound. You were certain you had a few broken ribs and the entire side of your face was slick with your own blood. You’d held true to your word. You’d given as much damage as you’d gotten and that was at an extreme disadvantage. The last thing you remembered was Jonah’s boot connecting with the side of your head hard. If you survived this you would make sure you were the last thing he ever saw and you had the comfort of knowing if you didn’t survive that Dean would be the last thing Jonah ever saw.

You had managed to push yourself into a seated position with your back against the wall when you heard boots coming in your direction. You were in pain and it would likely be a task to stand on your own but regardless you braced yourself for what would more than likely be another fight. 

When the footsteps stopped you looked up to see Jonah was standing at the door leading into the cell. He had his mask in his hand and the light from the torch on the wall flickered across the burns the corrosive had left behind on his face. “Damn you’re even uglier than you were before. At least the exterior completely matches the interior now” you grunted holding an arm around your hurting ribs as you forced yourself to stand up despite the pain radiating through you that moving caused.  “Keep talking you little bitch. Even now our group is already at your compound. Singer will be given seventy two hours to either deliver the power core or be delivered your corpse” “Bobby knows you’ll never keep your word. You’ll take the power core and kill me all for daddy dearest to make a play to be over the shambles that’s left of this country”

“But the thing about Bobby and the Winchester boys they don’t think with their heads a lot. They let their hearts do the thinking and you’re family. That whole group is insane enough to risk it all by coming after you. How many more will die this time for you to walk away?” “That wasn’t my fault. It was yours” you threw back and he smiled “And yet here you still stand having survived what? Seven years after them?” “You’re gonna kill me why not just finish me off now?” you asked and his smile turned sinister “Oh but why kill you quickly when I can make you beg for death?”

He pulled a key out of his pocket and slid it into the door when he stepped into the cell you took a deep breath before falling into a defensive posture. Whatever he had planned it wouldn’t go over easy on him.

“There’s not even an option. We hand over the fucking power core” Dean spoke from where he stood at the edge of the room. “How do we know they won’t kill her anyway?” Benny asked and a silence fell over the room because everyone was thinking what Benny had just given voice to “Well what the hell do you suggest Benny? Let them kill her with no qualms?” Max’s voice was laced with anger. Anger at himself for not being able to stop you from leaving and anger at the situation in general.

“We’re already at the eighteen hour mark since they took her. We need to do something and do it now!” Alicia cut in but before another word could be spoken Claire came running into the room “DEAN, SAM” both brothers turned to look at the blonde who was out of breath “The front gate! We need you!”

------

Most of the residents of the compound had been temporarily relocated rather to other areas or the caverns to get the non combatants out of harm’s reach which made it easier for moving around. Erika had bought her supplies and came back to help as well.

When Dean and Sam made it to the front gate they saw that Erika, Alex and Eileen were all three crouched around but couldn’t make out what until they got close enough to see you cradled in Dante Kaper’s arms while the three women worked to triage your wounds.  

“What the hell?” Dean demanded and at his voice you opened your eyes weakly “Don’t hurt him Dean” then your head rolled over to the side. “She’s ok. She just passed out. Dante get her up and let’s get her inside”

------

Erika had kicked everyone out of the room besides Eileen and Alex to work so that left Dean and Sam alone with Dante in the hall outside the room you were in. “Is that her blood?” Dean asked, pointing to Dante’s shirt. The other man glanced down almost robotically “Not all. Some of it is Jonah’s” 

“Excuse me?” Sam asked to ensure he’d heard right. Dante raised his eyes and Dean saw a fire there that almost made him want to like him “I killed him to save her life. I wasn’t there when they took her but the moment I got back to the compound my father called me into his quarters to brag. I found Jonah in her cell he planned to do worse than torture her…” his eyes had found their way back to the door that held you on the other side “I killed him without a second thought. I took her out the back and bought her here where I know she’s safe then I’m gonna go back and kill my father and everyone loyal to him”

“Is she worth that to you?” Dean asked, needing the answer before he allowed himself to give a Kaper even a sliver of trust “Why wouldn’t she be?” Dante replied and Dean gave him a sharp nod “Ok then. Want some help?”

------

You came to again when Eileen was washing the blood off of your face. “Eileen?” you whispered but she saw your lips move and looked up to your eyes and smiled “Thank god. What do you remember?” “Jonah..a blade slicing through him...a horse ride..Dante’s coat being around me and telling Dean not to hurt him”

She nodded “Good no concussion then” you looked around slowly “Where is everyone” you signed a bit sloppy but she got the point. “Waiting for you to wake up” “How long have I been out?” you asked and she grimaced which told you it’d been a while “A week” 

Before you could have a complete freakout the door cracked open and Alicia poked her head in “You’re awake!” “It appears” you groaned trying to sit up before her and Eileen moved to help you. They shared a look then Eileen signed “I’m gonna go find the boys”

Once she walked out you looked over at Alicia who’d sat next to you “What happened while I was napping?” she laughed “Oh a revolution?” “Huh?” you questioned and she shrugged “Bobby can explain it better but just know our lives are going to be a lot more peaceful” “Where’s Dante?” you asked worry for him suddenly hitting you like a blow to the gut. “He’s fine honey. That’s one of the boys Eileen went to find”

------

You were sitting up with your feet curled under you nursing the glass of water Alicia had gotten you when the door opened again and Eileen walked in, trailed by Dean,Bobby,Sam,Benny and an unsure looking Dante.

Your crew all hugged you then you locked eyes with Dante and shared a small smile “You killed your brother for me” “He was an asshole anyways” he replied which caused a light laugh to spread across the room. “What happened while I was out?” you asked looking at Bobby who smiled “Long story short? Josiah is dead. David is back and over the civilians proven to not be under Josiah’s rule. The militia is being cleared out of dirty members as we speak and we have doubled the side of our hospital set up in the last three days”

You cut your eyes at Dante “What are you gonna do now?” Dean slung an arm around his shoulder and winked at you “Well Y/N not to put words in his mouth but I believe he was hoping to stick around and get to know you a bit better now that you’re not sworn enemies anymore” “If that’s good with you. If not I can always head home now that David is over it?” he offered and you smiled “I think I’d like you sticking around a bit”  His smile told you that was the answer he’d been hoping for.

@girl-next-door-writes

@littlemessyjessi

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Man Behind the Curtain

Here, we have the second to last story of the “governments meeting/Citadel” arc.  We finally find out who precisely attacked, any why they did it.  I hope you all liked it.  As always, I do not own any of these characters except Drake and his crew.  

“Pieces on a god’s chessboard are just that: pieces, and if you fail to perform adequately or refuse to play your part, you will be removed and another will fulfill your duty.”

Aboard the IMC Rhodes

The clean black deck rang with the thumps of two pairs of boot soles.  Two pairs of hands ran through their equipment, tightening straps and checking weapons one last time.  Two pairs of eyes scanned the massive Titan deck of the Rhodes.  The two Pilots stepped onto small, circular elevators.  M.R.V.N. robots waved cheerfully at them.  The elevators took them up to the scaffolding around their Titans, cockpits already standing open.  

Pilot Elizabeth Reiner stepped inside her Titan.  The M.R.V.N on the scaffolding flashed her a thumbs up.  With a quick reach back, she stored her carbine in a holster inside the cockpit.  Pilots controlled Titans, to be sure, but you never knew when you’d be forced to dismount.  

“Welcome back, Pilot,” came the A.I. voice of KK-9734.  

“Good to be back,” she replied with a grin from underneath her helmet.  She pressed a button, and the cockpit closed, sealing her inside.  A hologram lit up on the panel next to her.  

“Pilots, you are to deploy and provide fire and heavy armor support here.  There is no need to leave you Titans.  After your mission is complete, our shuttles will retrieve you.”  Standard mission briefing from the general.  Her comms crackled to life.  

“Milk run,” came the voice of her wingman, Pilot Kara Morse.  

“Pilot Morse is incorrect.  This is a Titan heavy armor and fire support mission, not a delivery of calcium hydroxide,” replied KK-9734.  Reiner snorted with laughter.  Many Pilots realized that their Titans were way too literal, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.  

“Very true, KK.  Very true.”  There was a slight thump as the two Titans were lowered into place.  The general’s voice sounded over the comms.  

“Stand by for Titanfall.” 

On the Citadel

“Go!” yelled Vir.  The squad in the next crater up took to their feet as one and started to fire at the machine gun emplacements inside the hotel.  Shepard vaulted the crater he was standing in and took off at a dead sprint for Vir’s crater.  An ATLAS mech fired a burst in his direction, but he ignored it as he slid forward and tumbled, hands over heels, into the safety of the crater.  He stood up and brushed dust off his armor.  

Medical crater, was his first thought.  This crater was less of a crater, and more of a large trench-like hole.  Lining the insides were dozens of wounded soldiers and the Turian, GA, and Valhallan medics working on them.  Nearby, a horribly battered human, his uniform unrecognizable and chest torn open, writhed and screamed on the ground as Kraiker, the Apocalypse’s medic, worked on him.  Two C-Sec officers stood anxiously over the pair.

“Is he going to be alright?” asked one of the C-Sec agents.  Kraiker didn’t even look up.

“He will be if you shut the fuck up and let me work,” he snapped.  “Shepard. Vir,” he said, still not looking up.  “If you want some of these cases to live, I suggest hurrying the hell up.  Chakwas, Katie, Krill, and whoever the hell is on the Enterprise are probably better than I am, and we can’t get to them unless we clear this area.”  Before either could say anything, there was a flicker behind them.  Cooper’s cloak turned off and he jumped into the trench just as a machine gun stitched a line of mass-propelled rounds above him.  Cooper shook his head and brushed off his helmet.  

“I heard, I heard,” he said, holding up a hand before either Vir or Shepard could say anything.  “I’m calling in my Titan.”  he spoke into his helmet for a moment.  “There we go.  Stand by for Titanfall.”  High above, three streaks of light shone at the edge of the Citadel’s artificial atmosphere.  Cooper looked up in confusion.  “Wait a minute.  There’s only supposed to be one…” he trailed off.  Another voice sounded, this time over the open comms system of the Scoundrels instead of Cooper’s private one.

“This is Commander Briggs,” said a human woman’s voice.  “You asked for armor support, so the IMC decided to reply.  Cooper, you guys are on the same side, so try not to kill each other.”  

“Tell that to them,” Cooper muttered to himself.  The three Titans, two IMC, one Militia, slammed into the ground with enough force to briefly shake it.  Glowing blue domed shields appeared around them, protecting them from all incoming fire.  Cooper activated his cloak, and with a vault, and quick sprint, launched himself at his Titan.  

BT-7274 caught Cooper in mid air, and gently placed him inside his cockpit.  The three Titan’s dome shields dissipated.  Immediately, they started firing on the enemy soldiers entrenched inside the hotel.  Massive cannon shells, 20mm armor piercing bullets, and rockets ripped through the hotel’s outer facade as the allied soldiers beneath the Titans advanced.  

The soldiers inside the hotel panicked at the appearance of the massive war machines.  The remaining ATLAS mechs that tried to stop them were swiftly obliterated as the allied soldiers reached the hotel.  The defenders ran from the outer walls to the back, hoping to get away from the assault… only to find themselves walking directly into the waiting fire of the ODSTs.  

Elsewhere on the Citadel

Drake spun rapidly, lashed out with his boot heel, and broke the ankle of a Cerberus trooper.  The other leg came around, and the errant soldier flew onto the Citadel’s pavement.  Drake snapped his feet together, perfectly timed to the beat of the music playing, of course, and shot the trooper through the head.  He turned once more, and shot another soldier down, the kinetic barriers of the enemy stopping the bullet, but not the plasma infusion that blew a hole in her chest.  

Rocket spun around, machine gun firing wildly.  A maniacal cackle iminated from his mouth as he gunned down Cerberus soldiers, their shields and armor giving way to horrifying amounts of bullets.  

Jack, a powerful human biotic and member of Sheaprd’s crew, snapped the neck of a charging enemy with nought but a thought and flash of blue energy.  She picked up another struggling trooper with a cocoon of biotic power, and threw him through the arches of a particularly ugly metal sculpture.  An Apocalypse armsman slid forward on his knees and threw out his arms.  

“Goal!” he screamed.  Jack smiled.  She liked these people.  They were crazy.  

Nearby, Maverick watched the insanity around her.  Yeah, she could be loose.  A little crazy, especially to Kril’s standards.  But this?  This was a bit too much.  Ramirez skated across a puddle of water, almost fell, and still managed to get his rifle up in time to kill an advancing Cerberus soldier.  

“Maverick!  You’re the only non-crazy one here!” he laughed.  

“Someone has to keep you guys in check,” she shot back.  Drake looked over from where he was repeatedly ramming a knife through the armor joints of a struggling Turian.  

“Well, to be fair, you’re a lot less crazy than everyone else, Ramirez,” he said.

“Hey!  I resent that!” he yelled back.  Ramiriez spun around, only to realize there were no enemies left.  How odd.  Drake turned and walked up to a set of double doors leading god-only-knew where and started to fiddle with the control panel as two of his armsmen kept watch.  He struggled for a moment, only for the panel to give him an electrical shock.  

“Ah!  Fuck me!” he swore as he shook his hand.  Rameirez cocked an eyebrow.  

“Well, usually I’d buy you dinner first, but sure.”  Drake’s neck snapped around so fast Maverick swore she could hear vertebrae pop.  

“I like this one!” Drake yelled jubilantly.  He fiddled with the control panel a bit more, before giving it a resounding kick.  “Dammit.  Stupid thing won’t let me in.”  He motioned to the demolition teams.  “Muelka!  Federer!  Blow it the fuck up!”  The two advanced with positively feral grins on their faces.  

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

Elsewhere on the Citadel

A set of heavy double doors guarded the way into the attackers’ last stronghold on the Citadel.  Apparently, the other landing forces had managed to do quite good for themselves, with a group of traitor C-Sec officers even coming up to Shepard and begging him to take them prisoner rather than face whatever Quill and Drake were doing.  A distant rumbling and pall of thick smoke rising into the air in Drake’s direction gave a good indication of precisely what they were fleeing.  All communications in Quill’s direction were completely shut down, which was rather ominous… for the opposition.  Shepard and Vir had faith that Quill could weasel his way out of whatever was going on over there.  

As for Shepard and Vir’s group, well…  No one was going to stop thousands of the best soldiers in the universe, backed up by three Titans and two living legends.  Simplicity itself.  

As for the door, there was a current argument between the members of Shepard’s ground squad, led by his first lieutenant Miranda Lawson and the Tempestus Scions and ODSTs.  Lawson, backed up by the Normady’s chief engineer, Tali'Zorah, wanted to hack the doors open, which would take a bit of time.  The Scions and ODSTs wanted to simply blow them open.  It was at the moment that the Scions started going for their weapons, disliking that Lawson and Shepard were working alongside “xenos scum,” that Vir decided to intervene.  

“Why don’t we all settle down, huh?  It doesn’t serve any purpose to kill each other, especially since we’ve been working together to take back the Citadel,” said Vir.  He turned towards the lead Scion.  “We’ve wasted enough time already.  Blow open the doors.”  The Scion nodded and gestured to a pair of his troopers carrying bombs.  

“You heard the man.  Blow it open.”  Vir turned to Shepard and Lawson.

“I know you want to preserve as much of the Citadel as possible, but we want to get to the bottom of this attack, and demolition is faster.  I can pay for any damages, if required.”  Shepard shook his head.

“I won’t have you paying for anything if I can palm off the charges to the Council,” he replied.  Vir grinned.

“Fair enough.”  He looked over to the doors, where the Scions had placed their charges.  A mixed group of Scions and ODSTs stood on both sides, guns at the ready.  

“Ready?” called the leader.

“Ready!” came the reply.

“Breach!”  The charges exploded inwards with a massive blast of heat, melting a huge hole in the doors.  Soldiers streamed in, checking corners and moving forward, ready to destroy their enemies.  Of which there were none.  

Vir and Shepard, backed up by a cadre of heavily armed troopers, stepped through the ragged hole in the door.

“Waste of perfectly good melta charges, if you ask me,” opinionated the Scion commander.  

“Move forward.  There has to be someone here,” replied Shepard.  Heavy boots thunked into the cold metal surface of the dimly lit space as the various allied soldiers spread throughout the building.  

“Contact!” someone shouted.  This was followed by a sudden blast of small arms fire from at least twelve different points, and a small explosion.

“I think you got ‘em,” said Vir dryly.  

“Yeah.  The grenade was a bit… overkill,” voiced Shepard as he looked over the unfortunate individual's remains, mostly consisting of bloody smears on the walls.  

“They’re in here!” called an ODST, gesturing to a large open room with several overhanging balconies.  The rest of the soldiers filed in, quickly killing the nine terrified-looking people inside.  

Above them all was a group of blue skinned aliens.  Asari.  The one in charge sneered at the entering soldiers.  

“Well, it looks as if you have come here to die, scum.  Our master was right about this,” she said.

“Master?” asked Shepard to no one in particular.  The Asari gave him a leering grin.  

“The Shadow Broker does not take kindly to your interference, Shepard, and once you’re dead, I’ll give your body to him.”

“Wait.  Why the hell would the Shadow Broker, and information dealer, want to attack the Citadel with every bloody government in existence here?  And why the hell are you, an Asari, working with Cerberus, a human supremacist group?” asked Shepard.  The Scions, Valhallans, marines, ODSTs, and Vir looked back and forth between the two, as if it were a tennis match.

“That’s for him to know, and you to find out!”  The Asari turned to one of the balconies.  “Kill them!”  A group of mercenaries stormed the balcony, and pointed their weapons at the allied forces down below.  Before they could fire, a flurry of shots rang out behind them, and they fell to the ground, stone dead.  

Quill, followed by a very shaken looking Captain Viter, along with their outflanking group, stepped out from behind them.  

“Yeah, well, sometimes it pays to not have a plan, ‘cause if you don’t know what you’re doing, then the enemy certainly can’t know what you’re doing!” said Quill.  He pointed his pistols at the group of Asari.  “Your move.”  

Every individual in the group readied their weapons and started to glow with a strange blue light.  

“Doesn’t matter.  You still have to kill us!” yelled the Shadow Broker’s minion.  However, before they could do anything, more shots rang out.  A group of the Asari fell dead.  Two more were picked up and developed in blue energy, and thrown into the ceiling where they expired with a series of sickly crunches.  The leader’s head was then promptly blown apart, to reveal Drake and his outflanking group.  

Drake twirled his pistol around a finger and blew non-existent smoke from its barrel.

“Well.  That was fun.  Now what?”  All of the different factions turned to look at each other.  

“I’m sure the Council would love to thank you all for saving their station,” said Shepard, with only the barest hints of sarcasm in his voice.  “Hell, they might even throw us a party.”

The Lair of the Shadow Broker

“You have failed me.”  The voice came again, swirling with infinite power.  It was ever-changing, made up of thousands of tongues, thousands of species, individuals, emotions, and languages at once.  The Shadow Broker cringed.  He was one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy, but the voice brought him to his knees nevertheless.  The physical power he held as a yahg, a species that few knew about, was nothing here.  “You were supposed to destroy the Citadel, along with all of these pathetic mortals!  Instead, a group you did not plan for stopped me!”  All his planning, all the contacts he had in Cerberus, the Citadel, and various species’ militaries had failed.  

“My lord, perhaps if-”

“Silence!”  The Broker cringed again.  For six decades he had schemed and maneuvered behind the shadows.  He had destroyed the original Shadow Broker.  He was confident he could get out of this deal… if he wasn’t dealing with the God of Schemes.  

“My hold upon this reality is tenacious, at best.  My most powerful mortal agent has turned against me and been hidden from my sight.  This is why I turned to you.  But you failed.”  The voice projected a thousand emotions at once: anger, fear, sadness, melancholy, love.  The Broker furiously scratched at his head to dispel the wrongness of so many contradictory feelings at once.  “My power here is weak, yes,” continued the voice, “but not enough to do this!”  

The Shadow Broker screamed.  His body twisted in horrifying, reality-bending ways.  Arms morphed into tentacles, then back again.  His skin flashed through a million colors in the span of seconds, some he’d never seen before.   His eyes shot out of his body on stalks, and fell over his chest.  Skin shed.  Eyes fell out of eyes, and appeared throughout his body.  Bones twisted into horrifying spurs.  Blood transformed into a thousand different liquids at once.  Organs ripped themselves out of his chest, then re-arranged themselves.  His body twisted, turning inside-out, upside-down, then back again.  His massive maw widened further, to terrifying degrees, and teeth grew longer.  Organs mutated, bones contorted, limbs elongated, and internal tissues burst forth from his skin.  

The Shadow broker screamed.  And screamed.  The last thing to change was his sentience.  He went from an individual of ruthless cunning and massive intelligence to a gibbering, mindless, mutated and twisted husk.  Everything was taken from him, his immortal soul devoured by daemons.  

There he would remain, a twisted, soulless, mindless husk until he was found by his minions, who were promptly torn apart.  After half an hour, the thing that was once the Shadow Broker was finally put down by his own guards, erasing the sin of his existence. 

“Arhiman has gone from my sight.  The Shadow Broker is useless.  These… Scoundrels are an annoyance but present an… opportunity.  It matters not what has happened.  This is only the very first move of the Game.  I am Tzeentch, and you are all my pawns that move when I say so.”

[carewyncromwell]

I guess this is my “happy end” for Carewyn and Orion for that LOTR AU (once again started by @drinkyoursoupbitch​​ and @no-moon-nor-stars​)! Pictured are the newly crowned king of Gondor, Orion II Elessar, and his love, the current Steward and future Queen of Gondor, Carewyn Cromwell-Took! (Previous part here!)

When Orion, Ben, Wendy, Charlie, and their allies from Gondor and Rohan charged to the gates of Mordor, there was almost no hope of success. As the final battle raged on, however, wave after wave of reinforcements arrived -- Treebeard and the Ents Carewyn had befriended in the Forest of Fangorn; an army of men led by Barnaby Lee and an army of elves from Mirkwood, who came to support Fellowship members Selene and Artemis Clair de Lune; a battalion of dwarves led by the new King Duncan Stonehelm of Erebor; a militia of men from Dale led by Carewyn’s friend, Lord Andre; the eagles, ridden by both Gandalf and Carewyn’s long-lost brother, Jacob Cromwell-Took, who brought along some white magic of his own to blind and beat back the Orc advance; and Selene and Artemis themselves, who -- after smuggling Smeagol, Bill, and Cedric inside Mordor -- infiltrated the wall over the dark city and attacked Sauron’s dark army from above. Then the final blow was dealt against Sauron -- the Ring was destroyed, and with the destruction of Sauron also came the annihilation of Mordor. The day was won.

The triumphant army returned to the stronghold of Minas Tirith as heroes. As happy as Carewyn was to see Ben, Wendy, Charlie, and Orion safe, however, she was overwhelmed beyond words by who else greeted her at the gates of the capital.

Carewyn flung her arms out wide, rushing to Charlie and throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“You did it!” she said, her wide ruby red smile echoing in every word. “You all did it!”

Charlie squeezed his old friend tightly. “We did it. We couldn’t have done it without you, Carey -- if you hadn’t sent for reinforcements -- ”

“Carewyn Cromwell-Took.”

Carewyn looked up. Standing before her was Duncan, his lips spread into a mischievous grin through his now much-thicker brown beard. He’d had his thick arms crossed, but when Carewyn swept over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a huge hug, they fell lax at his sides.

“It’s good to see you, Duncan,” murmured Carewyn.

The young King of Erebor’s expression faltered somewhat, betraying genuine affection despite himself, as he brought his arms around her in return and held her like a dear younger sister he hadn’t seen in years.

Andre came up as well, opening his arms wide to ensnare Carewyn in a hug of his own.

“Look at you, Carewyn!” he said, looking over her new Steward attire and grinning. “One would hardly recognize you as the hobbit who escaped a band of orcs and wargs by floating yourself and your friends down the river in barrels...”

Carewyn bit back a laugh. “Not my most glamorous moment.”

“Artemis! Selene!”

Ben’s voice caught Carewyn’s attention. Riding in on fresh horses were their elfin friends, both looking very tired and beaten down, but with smiling, alight faces at the sight of them. Artemis made a beeline for Ben, leaping off his horse so as to throw both of his arms around him. Once Selene had embraced Wendy, she bend down to hug Carewyn as well.

“It’s felt so long, since we saw you last,” said Selene, “longer than I even know how to express. I think I now know why people with mortal lives act like they have no time at all...”

“I know -- it’s felt like years, somehow,” agreed Wendy.

A loud cry overhead signaled the arrival of the eagles. Carewyn beamed when she caught sight of Gandalf’s white robes -- but she was taken aback by the sound of a familiar, hoarse voice.

“CAREY! CHARLIE!”

It was Bill. He rode the eagle behind Gandalf and looked even more exhausted and worn than the Clair de Lune twins, but his freckled face was just as bright and his eyes were flooding with tears.

“BILL!”

“BILL!”

Both Carewyn and Charlie barreled over. Bill didn’t even wait for his eagle to fully land, instead launching him off of its back and hobbling with difficulty over to them, throwing his slightly longer legs backward and forward in precarious, reckless strides until he’d reached them. The three red-haired hobbits all threw themselves forward, seizing onto each other’s shirts and arms and squeezing each other’s shoulders in a vice grip.

“Charlie -- ” Bill choked through his flood of tears, “Carey -- ”

“Oh, Bill,” whispered Carewyn. “You did it -- you and Cedric -- ”

“I knew you could do it,” Charlie murmured proudly, clutching at his older brother’s back. “I always knew -- ”

Carewyn blinked back the traces of tears in her eyes, turning her gaze to the rest of the eagles landing. Her eyes softened in relief seeing Gandalf carrying a sleeping Cedric under his arm. Then she caught sight of the rider disembarking the eagle just behind Gandalf, and all trace of a smile vanished.

The final rider was a hobbit about a head shorter than Bill, dressed in worn gray robes one would be more likely to associate with a wizard. His black-brown curls had grown as long as a dwarf’s, sweeping down his back, and his eyes had been hollowed out like a skull’s, but they still sparkled the same shade of blue as Carewyn’s. His face was very white and weakly smiling, almost anxious, as he faced her.

“Wyn,” breathed Jacob.

All dignity forgotten, Carewyn flung herself out of both Weasley brothers’ arms. She tripped over the long skirt of her dress several times, but she didn’t care -- she would’ve tripped a thousand times more over, just to --

“JACOB -- JACOB!”

The two Cromwell-Tooks clung onto each other so tightly that it was like they never wanted to let each other go again. Jacob anchored a trembling hand on the back of his little sister’s head as he struggled not to completely break down.

“Oh Wyn -- my little Wyn -- ”

He pulled away at last, running his thumbs over her cheeks as his tear-filled blue eyes scanned her face.

“Look at you -- you’re a real lady! Shining like the Lady of Lothlorian herself...”

“You’re alive,” choked Carewyn. “I can’t believe you’re alive -- ”

“Jacob?!”

The two Cromwell-Tooks looked up as Duncan rushed forward, his eyes very wide and his face very pale under his dark beard.

Jacob’s blue eyes sparkled. “...Hello, Ashy.”

Carewyn had expected Duncan to perhaps run forward and hug Jacob too -- instead, when he reached Jacob, he immediately grabbed hold of his pointed ear and yanked hard.

“Owowowow -- !”

“You blasted IDIOT!” swore Duncan. “Disappearing like that -- let me guess, you got in over your head again, as per usual? How can you be so smart and yet so bloody daft!?”

“Owwww! Let go, will you?!”

Carewyn brought a hand up to wipe away the tear forming in her right eye as she looked up at Gandalf, who was smiling warmly.

“It seems your brother, like me, had battles to fight in fire and shadows,” he said. “Fortunately, like me...he also found his way back. He’s become quite a talented magician, for a hobbit -- I suspect he’ll be able to conjure up quite enough fireworks, for the next party in the Shire...”

“Thank you for bringing him back to me, Gandalf,” said Carewyn softly.

She then turned to the soldiers and courtiers who had escorted her to the city wall.

“Come -- let’s get Cedric a bed and proper medical attention. And prepare a hearty meal, in the main hall -- our King and his friends need it.”

Soon after was Orion’s coronation at the white Citadel of Minas Tirith. Representatives from many kingdoms -- Man, Dwarf, and Elf alike -- all came for the celebration. Once he was crowned, Orion bestowed honors onto all of his companions in the Fellowship of the Ring and all of the allies who had fought with them when things were at their most desperate. He vowed to the citizens of Gondor that he would do everything in his power to rule with patience, tenacity, loyalty, and fire and bring peace and balance to their world.

The coronation party afterwards was full of singing, dancing, and a great feast, where the Fellowship reconvened merely as friends, rather than soldiers. At one point, when Carewyn got up to speak with Merula, the new Captain of Gondor’s Guard, Cedric noticed something he hadn’t before.

“...Say, you all,” the youngest hobbit said with a frown, “who did Carewyn promise her heart to?”

Everyone in the Fellowship went stock still. Ben and Charlie immediately moved as if to hush Cedric, but it was too late.

“What?!” yelped Bill.

Carewyn’s best friend whirled on both Ben and Charlie, looking both beside himself and absolutely incredulous.

“You knew about this?”

Orion had gone very pale, his eyes darting around at each of the hobbits and Ben as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. Artemis and Selene both looked at each other with a frown.

“‘Promise her heart?’“ said Artemis, bewildered.

Selene glanced at Carewyn and then gave an “oh!”

“Her left ring finger,” said the female elf. “If Hobbit tradition is anything like ours...Carewyn is engaged!”

“When did THIS happen?” Bill was still interrogating Ben and Charlie -- despite him only being about two heads taller than Charlie and much shorter than Ben, both men looked equally taken aback by his volume and level of passion. “What happened?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” said Charlie hastily. “That is -- well, yeah, she put it there, but -- I mean -- ”

Orion was barely taking in much of what anyone was saying -- his mind was moving too quickly.

Carewyn...was engaged? If she’d promised her heart, was that...like a betrothal? When had this happened? Had she been proposed to while she was in Gondor alone, while he was away? Had she always been betrothed, since before they’d met? To who?

Orion found himself clutching his own hands as he closed his eyes and tried in vain to stabilize his breathing. His thoughts were always way too loud and way too fast, when he was anxious...

He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. It was Wendy.

“Come on,” said the dark-haired shieldmaiden under her breath with a smile, “let’s go for a walk -- it’s getting too loud in here.”

And so Wendy steered the new King out of the hall and out onto one of the balconies of the White Tower. It didn’t take long for Carewyn to notice Wendy leaving with Orion and, noticing how very ill and upset he suddenly looked, she quickly ended her conversation with Merula and left the hall after them. She found the two talking at the balcony -- Wendy noticed as soon as Carewyn arrived and rather quickly excused herself with a pat to Orion’s shoulder and a smile at Carewyn.

“Carey, would you please tend to His Majesty?” said Wendy, a wry twinkle in her eye. “You seem to have a special touch with him."

Carewyn watched her go with a swish of her long dark hair, frowning in confusion. Rather than dwell on it, however, she immediately turned her focus back to Orion. He looked so pale...

She reached out a hand to him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, her blue eyes very concerned.

When she’d reached out to him, Orion’s gaze had flown immediately down to her hand and to the ring on her finger.

His eyes widened.

It was his ring. The Ring of Barahir he had given her, before she’d first left for Gondor with Gandalf. Naturally, it being made by Elves, it had enough magic to shrink or grow to the proper size, so it fit her finger just as well as it had his.

The ring that Cedric had thought represented some sort of romantic promise...was his ring.

It took a moment for Orion to catch his breath again. Once he’d managed to compose himself enough, he bent down so as to properly look Carewyn in the eye. He took her hand, trailing his thumb over the ring on her finger, as he led her closer to him. Although he managed to keep his voice level somehow, his lightly tanned face was still very white and his hand holding hers was trembling.

"...Carewyn...” he murmured, “the way you wear my ring...is there...a meaning to it?"

Carewyn blinked in surprise. Then her face relaxed, and she offered a small smile even as her cheeks darkened with a flush and her eyes rested on his shoulder and not his face.

 "...Yes. For hobbits, it represents a promise of one's heart -- one stronger than time, life, or death.”

Her eyes drifted down to their joined hands.

“...It was that promise...that was in my heart when I pledged my fealty to Gondor. When Denethor heard me pledge myself to 'my lord', ‘til he release me or death take me..."

She smiled wryly.

"...he was unaware that, in my own mind at least, I already had a lord to be loyal to."

Orion’s eyes widened. Carewyn raised her head at last, her face much more solemn despite the softness in her eyes.

"Even if just as your friend,” she said very seriously, “my heart is yours, my king."

She lifted their hands, adjusted them so that Orion’s was on top, and placed a feather-light kiss to the back of his hand.

For a moment, all Orion could do was stare. His dark eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, lingering on her eyes and her ruby red lips -- then, his pale face flushing with a kind of emotion Carewyn had never seen before, he swept forward. His hands found her cheeks, cupping them gently as he leaned in and placed a tender, lingering kiss to her forehead.

“My lady,” he breathed, his eyes half-lidded and shining upon hers, “you are far...far more than a friend to me. And I hope that you’ll consent to be far more, as well...for among both Men and Elves...”

His eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes, in a move that almost suggested shyness.

“...the place you wear my ring...could also be seen as the mark of an engagement...were it to host a different band."

Carewyn stared at Orion.

“You...you’d want to marry a hobbit?” she asked, her voice very soft and stunned.

Orion’s eyes softened with some amusement despite himself. “I would like to marry you. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll -- ?”

Carewyn looked flabbergasted.

“Orion...I’m just a halfling -- you’re a king. More importantly, you’re...you. You’re gentle, and noble, and wise...”

“And you are warm and resourceful...and braver than anyone I’ve ever known in my life,” Orion cut her off gently.

His gaze flickered down to her lips again self-consciously. For all of his confidence as a Ranger, a warrior, a general, and even a king, Orion found himself oddly fretful and uncertain, in that moment -- as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff and would either fall to his death or soar up into the clouds, were he to jump.

“I realize that hobbits...rarely marry outside their own kind...especially to Men -- but just as I could see no one else as my Steward...I can’t think of anyone else I would ever ask to be my Queen.”

Her face flushed and her eyes sparkling like stars, Carewyn brought a hand up to rest on his cheek. She cradled his face with her hand as she bent her head just enough to rest her forehead against the king’s.

“Orion...I could not think of a single greater gift or treasure in this world than to be yours.”

Orion felt as though a weight he’d been carrying for ages had suddenly been lifted off of his chest. He exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed absently as he leaned lightly back against her hand on his face.

“Carewyn...”

One hand sank into the shoulder of her red and white velvet dress, while the other trailed affectionately along her cheek. Carewyn closed her own eyes, smiling fondly.

“I love you,” she whispered, a mere breath away from his lips.

She kissed the side of his temple, and then his nose and his lips. Without opening his eyes, Orion found himself mirroring her, littering her face with kisses as he trailed his hand along her cheek and through her hair. Several times their lips met, sometimes chastely, sometimes deeply, but always through the gentlest, warmest, happiest smile -- as though their hearts were both fit to burst from happiness.

A week later, Carewyn was crowned queen of Gondor, to the delight of her new people. Regardless of her heritage, the people of Gondor had not forgotten her courage and leadership in the midst of the War Against Sauron, and over the years, their affection for their “little queen” only grew. (This didn’t mean that she ever became very well-regarded in the Shire -- truthfully, someone that worldly and strong-willed would never really have belonged there. Most Shire folk didn’t dislike her, of course, but it was still a little uncomfortable to be associated with someone so thoroughly unlike the traditional image of a hobbit. The clear exception to this rule, however, was any hobbit with the last name “Weasley,” who were all always welcome in the kingdom of Gondor.)

One looking back on the reign of King Orion II Elessar and Queen Carewyn Dilthenrís could almost wonder if their romance -- however peculiar it was -- was written in the stars. After all...one translation for the name “Carewyn” is “white tower” -- like the fabled tower of the Citadel at Minas Tirith where she first inspired her future King’s people.

[jbbarnesnnoble]

Where the Moonlight Shines (Part Two)

Summary:  You’re a junior deputy in Hope County, Montana when things go to hell in a handbasket with the local cult. It’s months before help arrives in the form of the Avengers, taking you down a road you never expected.

Features: Violence; Depiction of torture; Murder; Mind control

Pairing: TBD

Series Warnings: Canon typical violence; depictions/mentions of torture; depictions/mentions of brainwashing; will add more as they become relevant

Notes: This part contains the death of a minor, mentions and depictions of torture, discussion of mind control, and canon typical violence

We meet the Avengers in the part while exploring a little bit of what Rook has gone through

This is a crossover between Far Cry 5 and the MCU

Word Count: 4302

You lost count of the days. They all blurred together. You had been taken by John first when you were stirring things up in the region. John Seed, the baptist, the one meant to make you confess your sins. You had refused time and time again, until one day you didn’t. It was torture, literal torture. While you healed at an accelerated rate compared to others, you refused to heal yourself, refused to reveal what they already knew. You had sacrificed yourself for Joey, day in and day out. You didn’t want her to suffer, not when you knew you could handle it, handle the pain.

“Are you ready to confess, Deputy? Ready to say yes, to be freed from your sins?” John asked, his tone calm. You glared at him. You hated him, hated how he drew out the word ‘deputy’ every time he spoke to you. It had become a routine. You had bruises still healing from where he hit you, cuts that were still bleeding, in spite of your accelerated healing.

“Confess what? That I was just living my life, doing my job until you and your family came in and fucked everything up?” you asked. You knew that would enrage him. You were past caring. You were chained to a chair and your words were your only available weapon.

“Your hubris, your pride, your wrath. I know what your sins are, my dear. But do you? I don’t enjoy hurting you. No, no. But I must. Because, you. Must. Confess. You must atone, and the path to atonement is paved with pain,” he said as he paced around. He went to his toolbox. You loathed it. You craved the sunlight, the fresh air, anything other than the dark bunker that stank of blood and death. You refused to flinch as he moved toward you with the ice pick. He had figured out you healed fast. As far as you knew, it was the one thing keeping you alive, the one thing that kept him from killing you outright aside from whatever orders he had been given.

You refused to scream as he drove the ice pick into your leg. He knew how to maximize the pain without causing you to bleed out. You refused to give in until he threatened Joey again. In the end, he marked you after you said yes to save Joey once more, ‘wrath’ had been tattooed across your chest before the flesh was ripped from you. You had forced yourself not to react as he did it, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. It took everything you had not to scream out.

The day you broke, the day you said yes, was burned into your memory like no other experience through all of the things that had happened since the night of the attempted arrest. It plagued your dreams when you managed to sleep. The scene twisting into something more horrific each time.

You almost wished to be back in the bunker now. You had figured you had been there for a month, maybe a little longer, before you ended up breaking out and getting away. You had spent time in John’s region stirring up trouble as a ‘fuck you’ to the man before crossing the Henbane River to deal with Faith and her bliss. Bliss. You hated the stuff. It was a potent hallucinogen.

She had ensnared you in it. You had almost lost yourself in it before Tracey found you. An adrenaline shot was the only way to get you out of it. Faith had shown you destruction, had shown you Joseph’s supposed vision. You still hadn’t been able to get Burke away. Part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to. You blamed him for lighting the powder keg that set it all in motion while Joseph insisted it was you, always you. You were the harbinger, the one who set it in motion with one simple action. You headed for the Whitetails after being pulled from the Bliss. You knew torture awaited you in Holland Valley and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you ended up deep in the Bliss again.

You met the Whitetail Militia when you made it to the Whitetails. You knew Tammy Barnes didn’t trust you one bit. Not at first. Not until you and Jess Black killed the Cook.

“That didn’t feel like I thought it would,” Jess admitted as the two of you scavenged the site where the Cook had set up shop. He had killed her family. Jess had suffered at his hand. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned toward you, not meeting your gaze.

“Look at me Jess,” you said. For a moment you thought she wasn’t going to, until she lifted her head up, her eyes meeting yours.

“I don’t know what I expected,” she said.

“Revenge rarely does what we think it will. You think you’ll feel stronger, that you’ll feel vindicated, that the suffering you went through, it won’t matter anymore because the boogeyman who hurt you is gone and can’t hurt anyone anymore. Truth is, revenge doesn’t change shit. You still went through hell, kid. You still have to heal. Maybe it’ll be a bit easier now. Maybe it won’t be. But he won’t hurt anyone ever again,” you said.

“I won’t rest easy at night until the son of a bitch responsible for this all is dead and buried,” she said.

“Which one?” you asked.

“All of them,” she said.

Jess was young. She was strong. She had seen far too much for her age. She was there when you had been caught by Jacob’s Chosen the second time. You had told her to run after Jacob’s warning came over your radio. For once, she listened to you. You had felt an arrow pierce your leg and the next thing you fully remembered was waking up to see bodies around you, blood on the ground at the bottom of a steep drop. It was the game Jacob played. You weren’t sure what it was then, but he triggered something in you, and after that things went blank. You never remembered what it was, not until you’d been in the Whitetails for long enough that it became clear. He let you go. You knew that. Of the three Seeds who ran the regions while Joseph hid away on his  island, Jacob was the scariest.

For the past three months, you had been at the mercy of Jacob. It had been five months since the botched arrest. He was your nightmares in human form. You dreaded seeing that music box. You dreaded hearing the opening notes of ‘Only You’. Whatever he had done to you, that song triggered it. You had learned to comply before he needed to use it. It was easier that way and you hated it. Absolutely hated it. He had toyed with you, letting you escape after each trial before bringing you back. He still used it when he had a specific task for you, one he didn’t want to risk your non-compliance on.

Eli was one of those tasks. Eli led the Whitetail Militia. The militia were a key part of the Resistance in Hope County. Jacob had intended to kill you after you killed Eli, but he had changed his mind. He had called Eli your sacrifice. But he wasn’t. You were a means to an end. The only one in his mind who could kill Eli. What better way to demoralize the Whitetails than to lose their leader, demoralize the Resistance than to have their savior, their leader be the one to pull the trigger.

The real test came with Ryan. Sweet Ryan. Your baby cousin, the son of your aunt, Rae-Rae. You wondered if having you kill Ryan was some sort of sick retribution. You swore you’d die to protect Ryan. He had been holed up safely with some Resistance members after the death of Rae-Rae at the hand of some Peggies who wanted Boomer, their dog.

Ryan was barely a teenager. Where Eli was a sacrifice, Ryan was the true test once Jacob decided he still had a use for you, that your purpose hadn’t just been to demoralize the Whitetail Militia, that you were not as weak as he had thought once Eli was out of the picture. And that was a dangerous thing for you.

“Cull the herd,” Jacob said. You stood, your body not your own. The only thing you saw was a faceless body, almost like a mannequin. A target. You didn’t hear the screams. You didn’t hear Ryan’s happiness at seeing you turn into horror as you turned your gun on him. One shot.

As he hit the ground the red haze receded. Your eyes widened when you saw him. You ran toward him, tears stinging your eyes.

“Good job, pup. I’ll be calling for you soon,” Jacob’s voice came over your radio. You sobbed as you held Ryan, his breathing slowing to a stop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you cried, his blood staining your clothes and your hands. You found a shovel by the garage. You had swung by Rae-Rae’s on your way from checking in on the Rye’s. Kim was pregnant and you worried about her, especially when they decided to stay in Hope County. Rae-Rae’s had become a have for you. Your haven now became your hell, a reminder of what you did. You buried Ryan next to his mother, moving a heavy rock to mark it,  along with a piece of wood you carved his name into with your knife. Boomer found you there, along with Sharky Boshaw, who was one of your closest allies.

“Shit Dep, what happened?” Sharky asked, kneeling beside you. You just shook your head as he pulled you into a hug.

You knew you could no longer go to the militia after that day. They understood it wasn’t your fault, but you knew your continued association would only put them at risk. Tammy had tried to talk you out of it, mentioning her distant cousin, that despite what had been done to him, he was still a hero. For all the suspicions she’d had about you at the start, Tammy Barnes trusted you, even after everything. But you didn’t trust yourself.

You stopped trying to escape, trying to run. You had learned the consequences after the first few times you attempted escape, attempted to assert yourself. It had taken weeks for the bruises to fade and the injuries to heal. Your accelerated healing could only do so much, especially when you were being starved. No food meant little energy, and it took a lot of energy to heal.

Jacob knew what your powers were and you were always by his side. You hated it, hated him. A few run ins with the Resistance had you healing him, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do. You were determined to make it out of this, no matter the cost. Jacob had you go with a patrol that morning and you took your chance to run after wrestling a weapon away from one of his Chosen, his most trusted soldiers. You found a car that worked and sped off to Rye Aviation.

You felt relief as you saw the familiar sign. You pulled up and parked the car. The sound of you arriving had drawn someone out of the house.

“Dep? Oh my god, Dep it’s really you!” Nick said as he approached the car with a gun drawn. Nick Rye was an ally, a friend. He owned the airfield and provided air support for you, when you weren’t being held captive by the Seeds. You knew it wasn’t a fluke that let you get away. If you had managed to get away, it was because Jacob let you. The realization didn’t sit well with you.

“It’s me. I’m home,” you said softly. You knew you looked beat up and broken. There was no way you didn’t. It seemed like everyone was there. Kim was there, looking like she was going to give birth any day now. Hurk was there with Sharky Boshaw. Sharky. One of your favorite people since everything started. Even if he was a wanted pyromaniac before everything kicked off, he was a useful ally, funny too. Grace Armstrong, the army sniper you’d helped out. Adelaide, who was Hurk’s mom stood with her favored boytoy of the moment.

“Good to see you Rook,” Grace said.

“Good to see you too,” you said. You found yourself pulled into hugs, saying hello to the people you hadn’t seen in so long. You were home.

“Had me real worried for a second amiga,” Sharky said.

“Yeah. I know,” you said, taking a sip of the beer that had been handed to you once everything settled. It may have been the end of the world, but damn, if there wasn’t a stockpile of alcohol to throw a party at the end of it.

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

One month later, Upstate New York

The Avengers were gathered in a conference room. Fury had arrived at the compound that morning with an urgent briefing.

“We’ve received word from the US Marshals that one of their agents, Cameron Burke, has been reported missing. He was meant to arrest Joseph Seed six months ago,” Fury said.

“Five months and they haven’t heard from him? Why are they only now doing something about it?” Natasha asked.

“That’s where things get strange. The Marshals received his resignation two days after the arrest was supposed to happen. Burke had been insistent on bringing this Joseph Seed in and then wanted to drop all charges and resign. The Marshals office is such a mess and Seed considered such a low level threat that they brushed it off. Until now. New information has cropped up,” Fury said. The team looked at the information in front of them. Profiles on the brothers, on people associated with the Project.

“Where do we come in?” Steve asked, arms crossed. This didn’t seem like something that warranted the Avengers involvement.

“Records show Hope County has become a dark zone. No communications in or out of the county except by specific encoded communications locations in four different locations. After the Marshals requested the help of the Avengers, we tapped into the communications and we’ve been able to intercept radio traffic. There’s a war going on in that county and Joseph Seed is determined to win it. Project at Eden’s Gate is a doomsday cult with Joseph Seed as their prophet. We have reason to believe he has gotten his hands on weapons of mass destruction with alien origin,” Fury said.

“There’s a catch, there has to be,” Tony said.

“From what we’ve gathered, Joseph’s brothers are his so called heralds, along with a young woman by the name of Rachel Jessop, who now goes by Faith Seed. According to intercepted transmissions, youngest brother John is called the Baptist and is responsible for getting confessions out of converts, whether they’re willing or not. We don’t know what that entails.

Oldest brother Jacob is former army, served in the Gulf War. He runs their defense and we have reason to believe he’s using some kind of mental conditioning.

This so called Faith is manufacturing a potent drug called Bliss. We have no idea what it’s effects are. When you enter the region, you will need to proceed with caution. Radio chatter indicates they have an enhanced individual in the region. They call her Rook. We don’t know much, whether she’s working for the Project or the Resistance. The messages are confusing. But treat this Rook with caution,” Maria said. The team sat in silence, contemplating what they had just been told.

“Do we know if Hydra is involved?” Natasha asked.

“We don’t know for sure. They had to get those weapons from somewhere. If not Hydra then there is another threat we need to be on alert for,” Fury said. The team sat in contemplation for a moment.

“What do we need to prepare for? Do we have a contact?” Steve asked.

“Be prepared for anything. You leave in three hours. We have a contact in the region, Hurk Drubman Junior. He’s a little...rough around the edges but he’ll be able to give you a run down if you can find him,” Maria said. Bucky’s head snapped up. Drubman, why did that name sound so familiar? A photo of the man in question was brought up on the screen. Bucky squinted at it. He cursed under his breath when he made the connection. Of course it was him.

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

The Avengers touched down at an airfield. A man greeted them with a gun that he lowered once he saw who they were. He still kept his guard up as the group approached. Steve introduced himself and the team.

“Nick, Nick Rye,” the man said.

“Do you know where we can find Hurk--,” Steve was cut off by the sound of an explosion and laughter.

“Drubman? Yeah, he and his cousin are here. What’re you looking for him for?” Nick asked as they walked toward the house.

“We were told Mr. Drubman would be able to assist us,” Natasha said. She was taking in the surroundings. Smoke rose in the distance as a statue stood smoldering. They were led into the house. It seemed like a party was going on.

“Some might says it’s distasteful to celebrate the death of someone, but they’ve never met those damn Seeds,” Nick said.

“They’re dead?” Natasha asked.

“John is, the so called baptist. Dep killed him today after...anyway, the important thing is that fucker is dead as dead can be and the people he was keepin’ prisoner are free. Joey Hudson is restin’ up. Damn Peggies had her for months,” he said.

“Peggies?” Wanda asked.

“S’what we call members of the Project. Project at Eden’s Gate, PEG, Peggies,” Nick said. The group looked at Steve. Realization seemed to cross Nick’s face.

“Aw hell, your lady back in the 40s was--” Nick started to say before Natasha cut him off.

“Agent Carter was named Peggy yes. And she was a hell of a lot more than the Captain’s lady,” Natasha said.

“Right, right, sorry,” Nick said, looking properly admonished. He led them to where everyone was gathered and made introductions. It was time to plan.

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

You excused yourself from the room, feeling overwhelmed by how many people were there. You knew it was only a matter of time before Jacob was going to call you back. He was bound to be furious. You knew when he let you go he didn’t think you’d get that far, didn’t think you’d kill his baby brother. You may have escaped but you knew it was because he let you, a sick game of cat and mouse. You jumped when you heard a floorboard creek on the porch. It was Wanda Maximoff.

“Sorry, I did not realize someone was out here,” she said.

“It’s fine, you’re fine. It was just...overwhelming in there,” you said. She nodded.

“You...you are not okay,” she said.

“My home is under siege by a murderous doomsday cult. I’ve been tortured, shot at, almost killed, and held captive by them and I’m currently engaged in a cat and mouse game with the Project. Yeah. I’d say I’m not okay,” you snapped. You took a breath. She had nothing to do with it. Guilt set in.

“Sorry...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” you said. She touched your arm and you flinched. Touch that wasn’t inflicting pain was something you were adjusting to.

“You are dealing with a lot,” she said. You nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a bit. Your thoughts drifted to that morning. John had crossed the line and you made your final move against him. You had hoped you could subdue him, take him alive, make him face justice for what he’d done. But that wasn’t how things went.

“Face it, Deputy. Joseph is right. You cannot change that,” John taunted over the radio. You were chasing him down in a plane. You knew it was only going to end one way.

“Want to bet?” you asked. You managed to damage the wing of his plane enough that it went careening out of the sky. You hadn’t anticipated him having a parachute. You landed Carmina and took off on foot in the direction you’d seen John descending in. A firefight ensued and he was leaning against a car while sat on the ground.

“I never thought it would go this far, you know,” he said, his breathing labored.

“Is this your deathbed confession?” you asked, your gun trained on him.

“We both know...if you wanted to save me right now...you could Deputy. You’re just...as much of a monster...as I am. At least I acknowledge my sins,” he said.

Wanda sat beside you, a comforting hand on your back, rubbing circles as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You glanced at her.

“What if, what if there are no winners here? What if we’re all just monsters masquerading as heros?” you asked her. She tilted her head to the side.

“You worry about the destruction and pain caused by your hand,” she said. You nodded. She sighed.

“I’ve been there too. If we don’t do what we do, the outcome may be worse than if we do something. It isn’t you’re fault you’re in this position,” she said. You nodded. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before standing up to go back in the house.

You walked into the house to see an interesting scene. Bucky Barnes and Hurk were stood in opposite corners. Bucky had a gun aimed at Hurk, who just had a wide smile on his face. Clint Barton had a bowl of popcorn he was sharing with Nick, Jess, and Grace. Kim was glaring at both men. Steve had stepped between them while Natasha and Tony seemed to be taking bets on what would happen.

“I knew it! I knew the Winter Soldier was after me!” Hurk yelled. You wondered what you had missed while you were outside talking with Wanda.

“What the hell is going on in here?” you asked. Everyone turned toward you.

“Hurk being Hurk,” Kim said. You sighed.

“Hurk go...blow something up with Sharky. Stop agitating someone who probably knows five hundred different ways to kill you without using a gun,” you snapped. You loved your friends, you did, but god, did they do stupid things sometimes. You smiled a little to yourself. A small shred of normalcy in the chaos.

After getting the Avengers set up and settled, you gathered the Resistance core around the fire outside. The Avengers were surely resting or making their own preparations. You’d be discussing a game plan come morning.

“What’re you thinking Dep?” Nick asked.

“We need a contingency plan. There’s no way Jacob doesn’t call me back. Sooner rather than later. For our sake, I hope it’s before we make any plans with the Avengers. I don’t know what I’m like when I’m under, not fully. I remember bits and pieces,” you said.

“What are you getting at Dep?” Grace asked.

“If it comes down to it, you need to take me out. I won’t be in control. I try to fight it, but it’s hard. I haven’t been able to snap myself out of it,” you told them.

“No, not happening amiga. We’re not killing ya,” Sharky said.

“Sharky. You may not have a choice,” you snapped.

“There’s always a choice!” Jess yelled.

“Would you keep it down? We don’t need to be alerting our guests to our plans here. Not this one,” you said, glaring at her.

“Rook, what you’re asking us to do,” Nick said.

“It’s a sacrifice. I’m a weakness. You need to cull the herd,” you explained.

“Cull the herd? Sacrifice? Weakness? For fucks sake Rook, do you hear yourself? You’re spouting off Jacob’s rhetoric!” Jess said. You ran a hand through your hair and started pacing, unaware of the person listening in to the conversation going on. Bucky Barnes lurked in the shadow, eavesdropping on what was going on. It wasn’t that the Avengers didn’t trust the Resistance. They wanted all the information they could get to plan their attack. They knew there was no keeping the Resistance out of the fight. This was their fight, not the Avengers. They had been the ones keeping hope alive for six months.

“It doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me out...I don’t see people, Jess. I see targets. I see targets I need to take out. I don’t...I can’t hurt you, any of you. And if you don’t take me out the first chance you get if I’m not in control, I will hurt you, or worse kill you,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I’ll do it,” Grace said.

“Grace,” Nick said sharply. She held her hand up.

“I’m the best shot we have. I don’t want to kill Dep. But if we have to take her out. We have to take her out. She’s right. You have all seen and heard what Jacob does to people. Once he hooks his claws into her, getting her back will be damn near impossible if she can’t fight it off,” Grace said.

Later that night when you were patrolling the perimeter when you heard it. The opening of ‘Only You’ before you heard Jacob telling you to return to the Whitetails. You had no choice but to listen, finding another car and driving to where Jacob was waiting.

[soapxmactavish]

missing from his arms (soap mactavish x ayela gonzalez oneshot)

also on ao3

Three nights had passed since Sergeant Gonzalez had been announced MIA.

Captain MacTavish sat on the desk chair, head aching and drowsiness sweeping over him. The lights caused a pounding in his head and he gave another rub at his eyes, trying to get rid of the sleepiness threatening to make him fall unconscious. He hadn’t closed his eyes for 36 hours, and even then he had little sleep. Thanks to commander privileges and the kitchen’s endless supply of caffeine, the impossible was possible for a small while.

“She’s gotta be somewhere around there,” he whispered, sipping at his fourth coffee within the past two hours. Their mission had gone badly wrong, when Ayela had been chased down by a group of militia, drawing them away from the small party of MacTavish and Sanderson. The latter had taken the blow of an IED left in the jungle, leaving him in a heavily-damaged state. Of course, something else had triggered the mine, and the force of the shrapnel and fire threw them backwards.

Ayela had taken it upon herself to draw the incoming savages away from them to allow them to escape.

It had been the last time the captain laid eyes on her since, her last words being, “Both of you get to safety!’, before she disappeared behind the thick foliage of trees. She had left a wounded man and a capable but distraught commander. A lover who had screamed for her name as he lost sight of her and desperate for her return back to him.

Captain MacTavish flicked his attention back to the files on his desk, satellite imagery of the Vietnam jungle spanning hundreds of square miles. They showed the area of operations of where they last saw the Sergeant before she disappeared. She could have been anywhere on there – near waterways, underground caves, or even captured behind enemy lines, or worse…

He shook the thought, hand slowly pulling back into a fist. The captain had barely been restrained from his commanding officer, General Shepherd, after the search was discontinued 24 hours later to look for Sergeant Gonzalez. He had called his personal pilot, Nikolai, but the whole operation had been banned by the US Army General. MacTavish knew what game he was playing and thought of reporting him, though he knew that was as suicide task. If the captain complained, everything he’d worked for – his rank, his position in the SAS, the Task Force he’d built from the ground up – would be snatched away from him as soon as the General ordered it.

              The soldier wouldn’t hide it – he was angry, terrified, and panicking about what could happen to her. Not only was guilt gnawing him up on the inside as he’d failed as a field commander, he’d lost the one thing he swore to never lose. Had he known the outcomes, he would’ve ditched Sanderson and placed her in charge without a second thought.

              You’d never, ya lovesick bastard, he thought to himself. It was true – he’d know how much stress his sergeant would’ve been under. MacTavish would rather he go through the trouble of looking and worrying and late nights than her. It came at the cost of her being missing, though, and he didn’t like it one bit.

              Jolting back to an awake state of mind, the soldier heard footfalls coming from the other side of his cabin’s door. He faced the door, rubbing his face as the handle turned, and the door opened, without a care of being loud at oh-two-hundred hours, a godforsaken hour.

              Sanderson stood there, his arm resting in a sling, his left foot in a boot. A bruise was forming up on his forehead where medical tape was stuck, covering his wounds which would scar in a while. There was a mask of tiredness over his face and body. The image of a beaten-up member of his team made MacTavish feel sick to his stomach, and only increased the guilt he felt within himself.

              All your fault. You did this.

              MacTavish watched with saddened and pained eyes as the sergeant eventually made his way to the made bed, easing down to sit on it without hurting himself any further. Sanderson sighed with his eyes closed, probably trying to endure the pain he was in. They reopened, and shifted from the Scotsman’s tired face to the papers strewn on the oak wood desk. A soft shake of his head came, and understanding dawned on his face. A look of confusion was also there, and sympathy, as far as the captain could read on his face.

              MacTavish didn’t want it. He didn’t need it, cared for it, nor deserved it. Who should feel bad for the one responsible?

Sanderson broke the steady silence in the room, which was weighing MacTavish down like a blanket. “You’re still looking.” It was more of a statement than a question. His captain stayed silent and only gave a small nod. His eyes were looking off somewhere at the blank wall in between them, unfocused. There was nothing to say, nothing which would fix the wrongs he’s made in the past few days.

“I am,” he replied, his voice low and soft, hardly there. This was the first time he’d spoken to someone within a dozen or so hours. The captain had been cooped up in his room, looking for answers to questions he couldn’t answer. This unexpected visit at this ridiculous hour was welcoming, yes, but not sure if he could bottle up his emotions like the officer he was supposed to be. This wasn’t how you acted when you’re meant to be a leader, an example.

Silent as a mouse, MacTavish adjusted himself on his chair, grabbing a mustard yellow folder from the unorganized mess laid out on his table. Carefully, he held it in his hands, handling it as if it was art. He flicked it open, his heart aching, whole body in pain in plain sight yet hidden from Sanderson who sat only a metre or so away, who’d remained quiet the whole time.

Ayela’s character profile. Her face ID, rank, military history, date of birth, and the rest of the important information which were necessary, were laid out in front of him. Not that he was interested in the first few pages, anyway.

MacTavish’s finger felt the small paper clip gripping onto the side of a random papers in the back/bottom of the pile. He slid out what it held, and it revealed a photo of the main squad of Sanderson, Riley, Price, MacTavish, and Ayela. Nikolai was also in the photo, on the other side of MacTavish. The Scotsman had his rifle in one hand, his other free arm around his sergeant. Though unprofessional in the eyes of the code of conduct, neither of them really cared at that moment.

The captain remembered that day clearer than any other in these past few years. They were about to head out for a mission and were all fatigued from hardly any sleep after being on an all-nighter mission. Ayela had the wonderful idea of taking a group photo to somehow lift morale. It’d worked – they were all smiling after it and were much more talkative to one other.

MacTavish had managed to get the photo printed out and kept it. He’d planned to give it to the sole female soldier in the photo but hadn’t known exactly when seemed the appropriate time was to. The two hadn’t taken many pictures together, and he wasn’t sure of what ones she’d kept in hand.

The soldier’s thumb grazed over Ayela’s cheek, reddened by the bright smile she bore. Her hair was considerably messed up, her braid in somewhat need of tightening up. The tired look from her brown eyes was still there but coated up with joy and happiness and humour from whatever dumb thing Sanderson had whispered in her ear when they’d taken the photo. She looked so beautiful in his eyes, the one treasure he’d never known he’d needed. His lifeline, purpose to keep going easier in this life and not be a total die-hard soldier who would just serve his country and not make every day “just another day at the office”.

When she’d first been transferred nineteen months ago, there was admiration at an instant. She was the first female to be associated with the British SAS and was more capable than a considerable amount of the soldiers already here. Her confidence and ability to stand up for herself when someone thought of her position to be undeserving was staggeringly amazing to the captain. How easy it was for her to belong here, in this team, side by side with her mates, never failed to knock MacTavish off of his feet.

What made him fall in the last depths for her was just how understanding she was, and how she motivated everyone around to keep going, to never give up. During his darkest times which lasted over a year after he’d lost his own Captain, there was an uncertainty to how long he’d last without mentally losing it, succumbing to the demons which were eating him alive. He’d become so sick of being himself – a leader who had to set an example and inspire and make change for the world. The weight was getting to him – of responsibility for himself and those around him.

No one was even aware at times, though Ghost had seen glimpses of a breaking man, something which he was very familiar with. They had never spoke about it though since the captain always brushed him off and denied anything was wrong with him. The Lieutenant wasn’t about to argue with his superior officer, and the two never brought the subject back up again.

Ayela was the only one whose help he’d accepted – more or less because she’d somewhat forced him to. He would never forget that first conversation where they’d sat down in his room and spoke for hours about only him and his troubles. There was nothing put in about her history – about how her mother neglected her three children and Ayela became the unofficial guardian of her two younger brothers who needed someone to take care of them.

The only thing that did come out of her mouth was how she believed in him and this was not the end, that he had more life to live and shouldn’t have to spend it worrying about who he’d become and how losing his Captain was not his fault. There was no judging, no shaming, no pointing out flaws or mistakes – only motivational, uplifting speaking. Words that were equally truthful and evidence that he was better than this.

That night was one of the longest, sleepless nights MacTavish ever had, but it was out of good circumstances. He’d laid in the dark, and thought long and hard about what she’d said. More importantly – about what they’d become. It was evidently something more than a commander/subordinate relationship. His feelings for her had only become so much more dynamic, and he knew he had to do something about it.

The captain had made the first move the very next night after seeing Ayela for the first time since their talk. She was more than ready for him, and so was he. MacTavish had accepted and realised that she was what he needed all this time – someone to talk to, someone who listened and wouldn’t stop until she knew he was okay, someone who saw him as other than a soldier. He was more than ready to intake her mindset of never giving up and keeping it at like an addict was hooked on a drug.

He had fallen in love with her, and that had been the seal to lock it in.

MacTavish hadn’t known he’d teared up until he saw a drop of moisture hit the paper. Slightly embarrassed, he quickly wiped his eyes before setting the file back down on the table. He gave a sigh and slouched onto the back of the chair.

“We’ll find her,” Sanderson assured, who had witnessed the whole thing before him. MacTavish rubbed the tears and tired out of his face. He turned to Sanderson, his reddened eyes gazing down onto the blanket, pondering in thought still.

The sergeant spoke up again, slowly leaning forward to come closer to the Captain. “I spoke to Riley,” he began in a hushed tone, “and he’s more than willing to take us back there-“

MacTavish’s eyes darted instantly to Sanderson’s, full attention on him. His breath caught in his throat and listened to every word Sanderson had to say.

“-and more than willing to give whatever support you need, okay?”

The captain’s eyes looked into his squad member’s with such desperation, hands clasped tightly together as if praying to God. His breaths were slow and steady, and he felt the dried tears stained on his cheeks, a constant reminder of what was at risk. He was more than ready to go ahead, and ready to take the full blow of what his superiors will do to him once they return.

“What time are wheels up?”

“They’re up in ten minutes, mate,” Riley’s voice suddenly came from the doorway, and the two soldiers in the room turned to face him. The lieutenant was already dressed in his gear with his iconic skull balaclava. His rifle was in his hands and webbing secured around his shoulders and waist. How did he know what the Captain was doing? Must’ve been the sergeant sitting in front of him.

Riley jerked his head to the left, in the general directions of the hangars. “Better head out as soon as we can.”

“Come on,” Sanderson urged the Captain, giving his knee a slap as he slowly got up. “Let’s go get your girl.”

[wildtige429]

A Father’s Regret

@lynea-kureji​ This one is for the comic you made.

Warning for the faint of heart. 

This will make you cry like a baby.

------------------‐----------------------------‐----------------------

Rats patrol the grounds of the overtaken Butterfly Castle. There were no signs of any intruders or rebels in the active darkness of the night. 

One rat guard fell asleep agaisnt the pillar supporting the secret entrance of the castle in which his boss, Ludo, says it needs to be guarded after he entered. Not getting enough sleep, the rodent went to sleep after his 100th nod.

He was deep in his sleep that he didn't hear footsteps approaching and was awakened by a cold and metallic object jabbing into his forehead with a squeak.

"You alert the others, there's going to be a bullet in your brain," the intruder's dark voice threatened the rodent. He doesn't wanna die so, he drops the spear and raises his paws over his head in surrender.

"Where...is....Ludo?" The intruder demanded. The rat cooperated by pointing at the secret entrance of the castle, trembling uncontrollably. In an act of mercy, the figure removed his gun and walked passed the rat guard, disappearing down the dark stairway.

-----

The rings and visor of his uniform and helmet provided enough light for him to see through the dark. Toshi has no idea there would be a secret room down underneath the Butterfly Castle when he first came here months ago. Gaining a little acceptance from the royal family, seeing that Star is truly friends with the son of their greatest enemy, Toshi is allowed to see the them in court whenever there is a problem arising.

A chill ran down his spine from an unsuspecting source when his feet hit the flat ground of the dungeon. Through his uniform, his scales prickled with chills and shivers and yet he couldn't understand why its so cold underground.

"They must be hiding something down here," he assumed to himself, "But what?"

He makes his footsteps silent as a cat's as he makes his way through the dark catacombs of the dungeon. He gripped his gun tightly under pressure from getting spotted from unsuspecting rat guards or getting caught by Ludo's pets. In which he can handle by using his MMA militia combat.

The more closer he ventures into the catacombs, the colder the aura becomes and his breath is beginning to fog up the visor within his helmet.

Thinking back of what he did few days ago, he felt sorry for running away from home after his mom told him about Ludo getting a wand of his own using the other half of Star's wand, Glossaryck betraying his friend and teaming up with the enemy, and Ludo not being himself but acting and sounding more like -

His father. He knew he was alive after the explosion.

With the wand's power in his hand,literally, and possessing Ludo's body, he defeated the High Commission with the Chancellor dead and Moon retreating like a coward, but he knew she did it to save herself and the Commission members' lifeless bodies.

And he's going to change it all. He is going to finish what he had started a long time ago.

He halts when he enters a large cavernous room that gives out a bright bluish glow and its aura reaching -8 celcius. Being quarter Mewman, Toshi could handle a little cold but he is no Wintertail. Looking around, he sees ice crystals forming stalagmites and structures all over the room with a giant boulder dug deep in the center. He swore he can see something frozen with the ice until he looked down and spotted a figure he oh-so recognized from afar.

And whatever he's doing, he appears to be putting some kind of spell on the ice block that is imprisoning whatever is in it.

He's planning to unleash it on Mewni, he hypothesized, I won't let that happen.

Like a ninja, he snuck through the shadows formed by jutting stalagmites that grew from the ground, his footsteps silent as he approaches. 

The figure was busy putting a spell onto the ice when he hears a click. A click of a pistol locking in place. Behind his head.

"Stop what you're doing," a familiar voice threatened.

He lowered his glowing green hand and stepped away from the ice. Still at gun point, the possessed avian turned around and glances up to the unexpected visitor's masked face.

"When an unexpected surprise to see you.....Shirogane," Toffee greeted, solemnly.

Still aiming his pistol at his father's head, Toshi used his free hand to remove his helmet, setting his hair free and cascading down his shoulders.

"I knew you were alive, Dad," he said, "That 'ghost' you sent to haunt us had me thinking about you surviving the blast. And here you are.....possessing the only body you can find and using the force you hated all those years."

Toffee scowled, "Ludo is an idiot to whom I enjoy using. His state of mind is weak, making him an easy body to use."

"Hmph, too bad he looks a homeless hobo now," Toshi sneered nastily, "And you've been making him delusional with your whispering through the wand."

"Fools will be fools," his father stated.

They stood there for a while until Toshi pressed the muzzle of the pistol into the possessed avian's forehead, right between the eyes. And Toffee showed no sign of flinching.

"I will not stand by and watch you do whatever you want, Dad," Toshi vowed, his face hardening into a hatred-lined scowl, one that Toffee thought he saw himself in his own son, "Innocents; both Mewman and monster, will be killed by you and your actions on your rogue warpath shall not be forgiven."

Fat angry tears streamed down his cheeks as he continued, "You left me and mom after the day I was born so you can hide your shame from your own son! What kind of damned father would do that to his own child to whom he swore to raise and love!? And breaking the heart of his own wife after they vowed that they will be together no matter what!?"

Toffee's eyes widened by his speech but he kept quiet, remembering the haunting words his son delivered to him in the time of the explosion took over him and the hurtful confession of his own wife.

"Now you've hurt my friends and those who care for us!" Toshi snarled, his finger on the trigger clenching the piece hard, "And now....," his voice grew cold and hard, "I wouldn't mind killing you even if it means killing Ludo."

Toffee can actually see himself standing next to Toshi. The scowl and angry tears they both shared in the events that turned them into what they are. Memories flashed in the older lizard's mind of what drove him to kill Queen Comet.

"THEY WERE MY FAMILY!!!" he heard himself roar with hatred and heartbreak before he took her life with his sickle.

Haunting memories that he pushed at the back of his mind flashed with red from the blood of his slaughtered loved ones, his younger self traumatized yet seething with vengeance upon their killer. His screams of revenge echoed throughout his mind that will forever be embedded in the minds of those who heard it.

And seeing his son in this state, Toffee decided to accept his fate by closing his eyes. 

Toshi can see that his father is accepting this fate that he put him down to, growling hesitantly on whether to pull the trigger. Shaking all doubts away, he let out a cry.

BANG!!!

The gunshot created a cacophony of echoes throughout the cavern, bouncing off the walls from the sound.

Strangely enough, Toffee didn't feel the life slipping away from Ludo's body. Cracking his eyes open, he glanced to see why he's not dead.

It turns out.....that Toshi angled his gun above his head and fired into the ceiling.

"I'm not like you, Dad," he panted, weakly, "I am not a murderer like you."

Letting his arm fall and dropping his pistol to the ground, he reached into the right sleeve of his uniform and untied a red ribbon with a Japanese bell slipped on it.

"You can take this back if you want," he huffed raspily. And he chucked it down at his father's feet.

The possessed avian's eyes widened more with recognition on the bell. He reached down and cradled the object with such remorse that he immediately whispered just as Toshi was about to leave.

"I gave you this."

His son stopped, his voice grief-stricken and hoarse, "Yeah. You got that from some dealer when you learned mom was pregnant with me."

Toffee sighed, "And I thought you would be a girl. But when I found out you were a boy after you were born.......I just gave it to you right away."

Toshi bit his lip, his conscience telling him to turn around, "That was the day before you lost your finger and you left us."

Clutching the ribbon and bell in his hands, the possessed avian sighed gravely, hints of sadness audible in his tone, "There.....is something I didn't tell your mother about."

The young lizard turned around a step, looking down at the possessed avian, his gaze blank and sad.

"I.......I see myself in you, son," Toffee began, "Misjudged, shunned and discriminated by people to whom we did nothing wrong to. But every misery and suffering we gone through, we became stronger and wise. I can see it in your eyes, Shirogane."

Toshi blinked in mild surprise, admitingly knowing that he was right. Living in Mewni in hiding with his mom, there had been incidents where he had been attacked by a gang of kids to whom they started to beat him to the point he retaliated. The sight of his blood-covered claws and teeth will forever be in his mind. His mom comforted him that day, reassuring that he did it out of self defense and she promised never to leave him alone ever again.

However upon the kids that he attacked reporting the news that they were attacked and discovered The Lizard's son to the soldiers in town, he and his mother have to flee until they couldn't run no more in different locations where they won't find them.

And by the time he became 12, they fled again, only to be rescued by his father's trusted friend and godfather, Rasticore. Being given the dimensional scissors, the frilled lizard plots out that he will make it look like they jumped off a cliff and bidding their farewells to their savior and his parents' old friend, they opened the portal and left to Echo Creek.

Where they spend their lives normally without fear.

"I killed Queen Comet because....," he heard his father's voice rang out through his thoughts. He was taken by surprise when he saw actual tears gathering at the corner of his possessed eyes.

"Because she sent a squadron to kill any spies of the monster army. And my family were falsely executed because of her," his father's voice broke at every sentence he uttered, "My parents. My brothers. My sisters. Slaughtered like sheep at a butchery. And I was the only one to survive it."

Toshi could not believe what he's hearing. He couldn't believe Star's grandmother would do such a thing. The murder of his family all because of the paranoid fear of spies has turned him into the villain the Mewmans fear him for.

That's why he went rogue and killed her just as they were about to sign the peace treaty. His father wouldn't let his family's murderer get away with it.

"I had no idea," he whispered, stunned, "I thought.....I always thought you just hated the Mewmans for what they did to you."

"More than that," Toffee sniffed, wiping away his tears, "I never wanted any monster to suffer what I been through. Your mother was just loyal to me no matter what without knowing the reason I went rogue. But she did it for being treated like a monster by her Mewman halves."

"I knew that," Toshi muttered, looking away.

"But what I don't understand is........," he looked back, his eyes saddened yet hard from control on trying not to release his tears, "Why did you leave me and mom that day!?"

Toffee's mouth opened a bit, almost as if he was going to answer, but shut it and looked away with shame and regret.

"It was a stupid mistake to make," he muttered under his breath.

(Flashback)

The desert was barren, except for the screeching blowing winds scattering sand everywhere it carries. It was once a camp of his army that were loyal to his cause but they scattered off after Queen Moon took away his finger using the Darkest Spell. And now, everything is swallowed by the sands. Banners of Septarian tribes; Hottails, Wintertails, Dragontails, Snaketails, Monkeytails and Swifttails were either fallen or stood erect out of the sands, tattered or burnt.

Abandoned by their selective tribes who were members of Toffee's rogue army.

"All I think about is covering up my shame and humiliation after my army left like cowards," Toffee narrated, "All. Except your mother. And you."

Toffee, adorning the skulls of the dead queens on his shoulders, dressed in his war uniform, gazed out into the blank distance of the desert. The wind ruffled his hair a bit as he turned his head around to face whoever is behind him.

Mint, his loyal second-in-command......and his wife....approached him wearing a cloak over her war attire and cradling a bundle in her arms. Toffee let out a sigh when she stops before him. And they looked into each other's eyes.

"Your mother told me that I could fix what I lost as long as you were with me," Toffee spoke, his voice breaking from remorse, "And we could do it together."

"But I......,"

He laid a hand, that is missing a finger, on her cheek, and slowly shook his head as a decline for her offer. The sight of her stunned face wretched his heart painfully but he made his face stoic and emotionless. Slowly, he slipped his hand from her face and inches his hand towards the bundle. A really small claw reached out and held it.

"I chose the worst decision I have ever made in my life," he finished.

Resisting tears from spilling out, Toffee squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath and took out a red ribbon with a Japanese bell attached to it from his pant pocket and dangled it in front of the infant. 

The tiny lizard in the bundle grabbed the ribbon just as Toffee moved his hand away, the baby's fingers slipping away from the finger.

"I told your mother that I can't be with you and her," he explained, "Because it would be a big risk of getting hunted down by Moon's hunting squadron. I couldn't risk myself, you or your mother the burden of being hunted like deer in a hunt."

"Even if it means I have to sacrifice my ties with you two."

Toffee reached out and brought Mint close, their foreheads touching just as she began to wept. The moment he pulls away, he begins to take his departure, his back turned to his distraught wife.

"It was a regretful decision! A decision that will haunt me forever!"

Mint pulled the hood over head as she turned around to take her other path away from Toffee. Cradling and positioning the little Toshi close, so he can see his departing father, Toffee can spot the sight of his son's face scrunching a little, his green eyes watery with tears at the corner of his eye.

"I was so sorry. If I hand't chosen that decision, you and your mother wouldn't suffer like I do," Toffee finished, his voice trembling with emotion, "You were right about me. What kind of father would abandon his family when he promises to be with them no matter what? And what kind of father breaks a promise to his own child to whom he vows to love, protect and raise?"

Toffee continues walking, not turning to see his family leave. Every footstep he makes on the sand, tear stains were left amidst the footprints. 

It is turned out that.....The Lizard is weeping. Fat tears of grief, regret and remorse stream down his cheeks and dripping down into the sand at every step he takes.

(End Flashback)

"I know I hurt you....and your mother.....for the past 20 years....," Toffee whispered, "And I never forgave myself for it."

He was startled a little when Toshi suddenly collapses on his knees before him. He picks up the sound of weeping and his heart wretched at the sight of his son's tear-stained face.

"You did it to protect us," he whispered, clenching his teeth to hold in a sob, "I always thought you left us so you can hide your shame. But I was wrong!"

"My father, Toffee, The Lizard and rogue general of the monster army,......sacrificed himself by severing his ties with his family.....so he can protect them."

He couldn't take it anymore and he lets himself sob emotionally until he fell onto his hands, fat droplets of tears dripping down into the ground.

"I am so sorry, Dad!" He wailed, "I shouldn't have said that I wish you weren't my father that day!! I'm sorry for being a bad son!!!"

Small clawed hands reached out to his face and he felt the possessed avian laid his forehead onto his, closing his eyes and stroking his hair to comfort him.

"No, son," his father wept, ferling tears streaming down his cheeks, "I am the one who should be sorry. For not being there the past 20 years. I'm sorry for not being a good father."

As both father and son wept and wallowed in their grief and regret, they failed to sense an unexpected guest hiding behind a boulder.

Queen Moon slowly raised a hand to cover her mouth in total shock of what she just heard. She was so moved that tears uncontrollably streamed down her cheeks.

She has heard about why Toffee killed her mother, why he left his family, and to why Toshi had a grudge agaisnt his father in the first place.

She has known that Toshi is the rumored child of Toffee and his second-in-command, Mint, after she defeated him, the moment she first saw Toshi take off his helmet. The reports of Toshi and his mother committing suicide to save themselves from the law were false news and they had been alive this whole time, living on Earth.

And what's shocking, is that the hero, The Wyvern, is none other than the shunned and misjudged by public son of the immortal monster. Even if he is a monster, Toshi was not like his father.

Restraining herself from sobbing that will expose her presence to them, Moon quietly departs to the stairway and left right away without getting caught.

----

(Epilogue)

Razor and Kurogane sniffed the ground for any scent marks of their young owner. With Mint following behind, she would race up to them and questioned whether they figured out the location of her missing son.

"Have you found him?" She asked the beasts. The two animals peered up at her and mewed and growled in decline. Her worry grew more at every decline, her fingers clenching and unclenching the coar of her coat.

"Oh Toshi, where are you?" She whispered in a prayer.

They suddenly jumped by the sound of bushes rustling. They get into the defensive but relaxed when a regal face strodes out of hiding.

"Hello, Mint," Moon greeted sternly.

The half Lacertian narrows her eyes, "Moon. It has been 20 years. You're as beautiful as your mother."

"Indeed," the queen nodded slowly. Taking some breaths, she spoke, "I knew you and your son didn't kill themselves that day. And my suspicions were right when Star talked about you and your son after she arrived on Earth."

"Rasticore saved us," Mint explained, "He finally fulfilled his duty as Toshi's godfather and Toffee's ally."

"Why are you here, Moon?" She demanded in a slow and low tone.

The queen rubbed her hands a little with hesitation until she got the courage to speak out, "I know where your son is. And your husband. And you will not like what I'm going to tell you next."

Mint finds herself hyperventilating from fear of what she's going to say but kept her breathing in control.

"Your husband is planning to unleash a legendary beast thought to be dead centuries ago onto Mewni," Moon spilled out, "You probably know who I am referring to, yes?"

Dread fills her heart that Mint nearly fainted onto the ground if it weren't for Razor swooping in to catch her. She had never expected that it was alive this whole time. And worst of all, Toffee is about to use it attack Mewni.

Flashes of images about a giant beast with a black fin and gold eyes brought her heart to hyperspeed that she can only utter the beast's name in a hushed whisper.

"Kurogane....."

Just by hearing the name itself made the tatzelwurm creep backwards in fear, knowing she’s not referring to it.

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

I actually cried when I write this down!!!

Who would have thought I could do such a tear jerking story!?

[vladiiibasarab]

Answering a question about what would happen if Vlad came back in this era. What about America?

Scenario 1:

He was a diehard patriot… to his own country, Wallachia. He wouldn't care about America.

Scenario 2:

He decides to take power but because he is a straight, white, Christian, male, he is everything the leftwing despises and since they seem to be a majority here in America, he would not get the popular vote. However, if the leftwing is successful with their move to get rid of or at least severely restrict gun ownership, the people's right to bear arms is impeded and they cannot form militias. If he turns our military to his side, and I have no doubt he could (I'll explain after this), the people's only hope is to form a militia and fight back. But if we can't, we are easy pickings.

So...could Vlad gain military support to overthrow the government? Yes, I believe he could. First. He was a fairly skilled crowd motivator. Second, the military is starting to get quite fed up with the political games and corruption. Feeling like the country they've sacrificed so much for doesn't care about or even appreciate them would make them easier to persuade. Especially if they forget that they aren't only defending the citizens but also the flag and what it stands for, freedom. My own personal side note, I suggest we show a little respect and appreciation for our soldiers.

Anyway, he was a very clever and resourceful man. He would plan out an attack and I have no doubt it would be devastating. With the military's help, he would overthrow out current government and take power forcefully. He would probably execute most of them to make an example. He detested lying and disloyalty.

After that, he'd go after internal threats, crime, differing religions, the jobless and poor. Vlad's idea of a welfare plan probably would consist of being fed your last meal, locked in a room, and being burned alive. He had no qualms about killing women and children. My guess is, if anyone was caught badmouthing him or his rules they'd me made a public example like the liars, thieves, murderers… any crime really… he might impale them, he might not. I doesn't really matter, there would be some sort of public demonstration though. It would be on every TV, every phone, every Newspaper.

Next he would go after religious groups and alternative culture. Though I believe he would seek to eradicate everything but orthodox Christianity, I have a feeling it would mostly be the Muslims and LGBT community he would go after the hardest. Let me explain. First of all, he became a member of The Order of the Dragon, at the age of 5. This group was founded to defend Christianity and uphold Christianity, especially against Islam. Of course he would go after the Muslims, not only because they were the religious group he swore to fight against, but also because the Ottomans were Muslim and tried to convert him. When he didn't convert or cooperate he was physically and sexually abused. He hated them with a burning passion. I think the LGBT community would be his next biggest target because he was raped and because according to the Bible, homosexuality is a sin. It was a sin that was forced on him by his captors so of course he would try to eradicate it in an effort to right that wrong that was done to him. Not only that, but his little brother was pretty much turned into the Sultan's sex slave and even converted to Islam (the latter is debatable but it seems as though this was the case). He had a personal vendetta against both groups.

After he took care of these, he would set about making his new land just like his homeland. He would enforce strict law and order, enforce gender roles, bring back slavery (but it would be the law offenders that he didn't have killed), and declare orthodox Christianity to be the only religion. In his own mind he would be creating the perfect Christian country even though he clearly forgot that God wants people to choose him because they want to… not because a dictator is threatening to murder or enslave them if they don't. But he also impaled liars and murderers alike sooo… he had a very skewed view of things.

After that, he would set about securing the land. He would build the military and secure borders. He might build a wall but I have q feeling it would be more along the lines of impaled or piled bodies of those that tried to enter illegally. But I doubt illegal immigration would be such a problem after a little while since, under his rein, America would no longer be the appealing country it is today. If anyone did want in, he would probably only accept those that he thought would help further the country. The doctors, engineers… people like that… not an unskilled laborer.

He isn't at all the leader America needs. We are a country that strives for freedom or speech and religion and political views. If we allow anything other than that, we are not America.

On the upside, American would be the most lawful country in the world!

Scenario 3:

He decides to take control of America but only succeeds in winning over part of the military. What's left of the military joins forces with the civilians who own firearms and they are able to put up a good fight. Vlad and his loyal mercenaries lose but America won at a heavy cost. The current internal dissension only drives us further apart. Instead of both political sides listening and working together like they should in a time like that, they fight amongst themselves and the people suffer. The country, on the verge of another civil war, inevitably falls.

Not to be all doom and gloom but if someone were to try and take over, whether they were a dictator or some sort of socialist or communist leader, I think it would be the end of America. Neither side is working together. In our so called effort for "equality" we are really trying for equity. As nice as that would be, that can never work. People who work harder to better themselves should have more, they worked for it. If someone is a deadbeat and doesn't do anything for themselves or isn't actively trying to better themselves, they don't deserve to be a millionaire. It's that simple. Forget politics, forget race and gender or whatever people want to make a big deal about and open your eyes to the truth. We are all human beings. Some have more than others, it's true, but we all need to work hard and seek to be the best we can be. Stop blaming others for why you can't and do what it takes (lawfully) so that you can.

I'm just going to use one of my personal heros... do you think Dr. Ben Carson got where he was because people handed him things? No, he worked his butt off! He came from nothing. His family was poor and his mother had no education but she told him that he was not a victim, that he could be anything he wanted if he would just work for it! AND HE DID! He did it! He accomplished his dreams and beat all the odds. All those people that told him he couldn't because... he told them "I will", and he did.

But we need to set aside our differences and pull together as a nation or we will surely fall.

[saints-row-2]

Hey whats the like, character breakdown of your lone wanderer/courier 6/sole survivor/fallout characters in general? I know there's Ezra-Kane, Tallahassee, and Tuesday Blues but idk who's who and what their relationships to each other are (i started scrolling through your character tags and man, thats a lotta posts right there)

there is a LOT OF POSTS and they are all interconnected so it can get confusing. i do have an oc page as well that has their basics BUT ok here we go heres the breakdown.

Ezra-Kane Pilgrim is the Lone Wanderer. Tuesday Blues is Courier 6.Atticus De Rege is the Sole Survivor. Teddy Tallahassee is not linked to a game, he’s just an original character within the Fallout universe.

they all know each other in various ways.

Ezra-Kane at the end of Fallout 3, poisoned Project Purity out of a belief everything would just be better if everyone was fucking dead. after Broken Steel he had a fight with his companions and, horrified by what he’d done to the Capital Wasteland, ran away.

Ezra-Kane ended up meeting Tallahassee a year or so after the end of Fallout 3, and the two became engaged and moved to NCR-owned California for a couple of years. eventually, frustrated with his life and bored of the safety of the NCR, Ezra-Kane abandoned Tallahassee and ran off to the Mojave.

in New Vegas Tuesday Blues was working as a Courier when he got shot in the head, etc. while working on finding Benny and working against the NCR and against Caesar’s Legion, he met Ezra-Kane, who had been captured by the Legion. Tuesday freed Ezra-Kane and the two agree to work together.

you could say that although Tuesday is The Courier, Ezra-Kane was still a courier. i played the game through with them both so having them as duel protagonists is kind of my way of organising that.

eventually Tallahassee found Ezra-Kane in the Mojave and they reunited. shortly after this, Ezra-Kane and Tuesday’s extremely strained working relationship broke down and they had a huge fight. after the battle of Hoover Dam, Ezra-Kane and Tuesday swore if they ever saw each other again it was death on sight. they really fucking hate each other.

Ezra-Kane and Tallahassee left the Mojave to return to the east coast, the Capital Wasteland. Tuesday, overwhelmed by the fact the now leaderless New Vegas (after Mr House’s death) wanted him to take charge, ran away. already a member of the Brotherhood of Steel in the Mojave, he joined a roaming BoS group and would also eventually end up working for the east coast Brotherhood, under Maxson.

in the Commonwealth, Atticus De Rege is defrosted by the Institute and carrying on with the Fallout 4 plot. she meets Tuesday Blues when the Brotherhood come to town, as Tuesday is a proctor doing a lot of exploration on the ground. despite Atticus’ dislike of the BoS they become personal friends.

Ezra-Kane and Tallahassee, in the years between New Vegas and Fo4, have formed their own militia/raider group called Project Purity and are slowly gaining control over the Capital Wasteland. they have been at war with the east coast Brotherhood and follow them to the Commonwealth.

Ezra-Kane meets Atticus and realises he’s the big guy making changes in this town, so the two become allies because Ezra-Kane wants to help destroy the Institute. Tuesday and Ezra-Kane do not get on but have an anti-Institute truce.

Atticus destroys the BoS and kills Maxson, which Tuesday isnt even really that mad about because fuck Maxson honestly. he returns to the Mojave. Ezra-Kane also returns to the Capital Wasteland after his working relationship with Atticus turns very sour.

SO TL;DR: they all show up in each other’s games and pretty much none of them actually like each other except for Tallahassee and Ezra-Kane, obviously. Ezra-Kane and Tuesday are mortal enemies, Ezra-Kane and Atticus hate each other, and Atticus and Tuesday politely get on but dont trust each other that much.

[krixwell-liveblogs]

“Shit,” she swore, “Hey, listen-”

She didn’t get a chance to finish.  White smoke billowed around us.  My first thought was that our adversaries were using some sort of bug spray.

White smoke? That’s a new one.

Did the Protectorate pick up a new member or two after all?

The way today was going, it would be just my luck.

Heh.

I held my breath and hurried out of the cloud, Tattletale following, and searched for the source.  Assault was taking on Regent and Imp, while Grue and Shadow Stalker were dealing with Battery and Weld.  Bitch and her dogs, on the other hand, were facing down Triumph.  Not the matchup I would have chosen, taking on the guy with the sonic shout using dogs with sensitive hearing.

Ouch, yeah. Poor doggos.

Also, sheesh, Weld just won’t quit, huh.

I almost went after Bitch right then and there, but self-preservation won out over any desire for retribution.  As Tattletale and I made our way around the cloud, I spotted Miss Militia.

Hi! Did you smokebomb Tattle and Skitter?

A black-green energy crackled in her hand, and she lobbed a grenade my way.  I scrambled back, only for it to turn out to be another canister of smoke, billowing out between Miss Militia and me.

Yup. So she did.

Kind of a poor tactic to use against the girl who can sense her surroundings using her bugs. You’d think the PRT would’ve learned by now that Skitter does better than average in blinded combat, especially if the opponent is also blinded.

[ftwd-nicky]

First Meetings

Pairing: Nick Clark x Reader

Author: @ftwd-nicky

Words: 3484

Author’s Note: Hey guyssss. I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I have like 3 Nick fics to post and I have one of Frank’s other character’s he’s played that I wrote to post. Shit. So, there’s gonna be like a spam of fics xD

I laid on the hard ground, wincing as I sat up, looking around seeing none of the infected in sight. I sighed in relief, slipping my lightweight jacket, zipping it up halfway. “Man, it’d be great to actually see another living person, not the ones that try to eat you…” I frowned, rubbing my eyes of the lack of sleep I got the night before. I placed my backpack on my back only taking a small sip of water since I only had three quarters of it left.

 I felt my chest clench in pain thinking that I’m could die alone as I walked north, limping slightly. I followed a dirt road into the mountains, glancing around at the small patches of green in the distance as I make my way towards it. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling myself get dehydrated and I take my canteen out, taking a drink of the cool water, finishing off what I had left.

 “God dammit, Y/N.” I muttered to myself, tipping the plastic container upside down, nothing coming out of it. I let out frustrating yell, throwing my canteen across the dirt, not even bothered to pick it up. I started walking again, accidentally tripping over a rock that is sticking out of the ground. My body fell to the dirt, hitting my ankle off the same rock as it rolled, letting out a cry of pain. “Just my fucking luck.” I sighed, getting back up slowly. I put some weight onto my ankle and my leg almost gives out instantly.

 I could feel my eyes sting, tears threatening to spill from my eyes as I heavily limped towards the hills. I jumped when I heard yelling, crouching a bit as I glanced around me, trying to find out where it’s coming from. I climb up the small hill slowly, looking over it and I see a compound with a gate around it. Shelter? I gnawed on my bottom lip, glancing towards the gate as I saw a man standing there in a military uniform, currently holding a knife from what I could see.

 I decided to try and get closer without being spotted, sliding down the hill slowly. I glanced around as a truck of people drove off east, my eyes going back towards the gate, seeing the mysterious man looking directly at me. My breath hitched, quickly getting up, limply running back over the hill, tripping over my own feet and I tumble down it.

 Nick glanced around outside the gate as Troy and the other members of the militia get ready to go on their daily run. Nick decided to to check things out incase there were any infected and he swore he heard a scream of some sort. His eyes squinted a bit as he noticed a figure moving over the hill in the distance, but doesn’t think anything of it.

 “Alright, Nicky. Keep an eye out until we’re out of sight, okay?” Troy asked and Nick nodded his head, his fingers lacing through the brass knuckled knife, looking out the gate. Nick’s eyes gravitated towards the figure that’s sliding down the small hill about two hundred feet from the ranch. He could hear the truck getting farther away, his eyes staying on the stranger as they noticed him, immediately getting up to run the opposite direction.

 Nick sighed, shaking his head as he left the gate, going back to his place.

 I stayed on the ground a bit after I tumbled down the hill, feeling the pain throughout my body. I glanced down at my ankle, seeing it swelled up as I could barely move it. I’m going to die out here. I need to get into that place. I thought to myself, taking deep breaths before getting off the ground, lightly touching my foot to the ground as I walked west, getting away from that gate, desperately trying to find an easy way in.

 I noticed a couple infected stumbling towards me and I pull out my semi-large army knife, stabbing both in the brain. I looked around, seeing a quite a few more in the distance and I sighed to myself. Man, I haven’t done this in a while, but if I want to survive. I took a deep breath, cutting open one of their stomachs, taking the blood and a bit of guts, wiping it all over my face and arms. I gagged slightly at the smell, not being quite used to it as I was in the beginning of this whole epidemic. Once I’m covered in enough blood, I limp my way around the gate, seeing someone standing near a smaller gate. That’s my way in.

 I rested on the ground, trying to stay off my foot for as long as I could as I felt the now dried blood on my face as I scratched my cheek. “God, I need a shower.” I mumbled to myself, praying as it was finally dark outside. I slipped my backpack on again, getting off the ground as I hobble towards the camp.

 I glanced around inside the fence, not seeing anyone around as I stumble over the gate, falling to the ground, landing straight on my back. “Why the fuck am I so clumsy?” I asked myself, shaking my head a bit as I stood up, sneakily running towards the first cabin I find. Silently walking up the steps, I grin as I turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked and I slipped inside, closing the door behind me.

 “Oh, this is a cute little place.” I mumbled to myself, walking around trying to find some water. I sighed in relief as I found some, going to grab it when I heard a gun cock from behind me.

 “Who are you?” A deep voice called out and I stood up too quickly, hitting my head off the top of the fridge as I winced, turning around, my hands up in the air. A man my age stood in front of me, his hair slicked back as he held a revolver to my face, my heart pounding against my chest at how cute this guy is.

 “P-Please… I just need some water.” I croaked, feeling my dry throat close up a bit. The mysterious man lowered the gun and I took my chance and bolted, running towards the back door.

 A pair of arms wrap around my legs as I was tackled to the ground, the man grabbing both my arms, placing them behind my back pretty roughly, the pain in my wrist spiking.

 “Ow! Wait, you’re hurting me.” I mumbled, my eyes stinging as I closed my eyes. He let go of my hands and I roll my eyes, wondering how gullible this guy is. I slip onto my back pushing him off me slightly as he growled, grabbing my forearms, pinning them to the wooden floor.

 “Stop, stop.” He muttered as I thrashed underneath his hold, feeling his leg sit on my rolled ankle. I gasped, pain shooting through my leg as he let all his weight on it.

 “O-Okay. I-I’ll stop, but please get off my ankle.” I whispered, trying to move it on my own, but it just makes the pain worse.

 “Oh no. I’m not falling for that again.” He told me and I shook my head, my face scrunched up as he applied more pressure, letting out a small scream. His eyes widened, glancing down at my swollen ankle. “Shit.” He muttered softly, getting off of it as he released my hands. His hands moved down to my ankle, lifting it slightly as he examined it.

 “How did you find me?” I asked quietly, staring at his olive skinned face, his dark brown eyes that shine in the moonlight as he glanced up at me.

 “I live here.” He mumbled, placing my leg back on the floor, standing up. The man held out a hand for me to take and I gladly do. He helps me up, wrapping an arm around my waist as I almost crumpled back to the floor.

 Nick caught the perpetrator in his arms, hearing a soft wince leave her lips as she gripped his shirt. “You’re the person I saw earlier?” He asked and you nodded your head, looking at the ground as he nodded his head, placing you on the couch.

 “What’s your name?” You asked and Nick glanced back at you as he grabbed a first aid kit, walking back towards you.

“Nick Clark, you?’ He asked in return, taking in your features, finding a bit of himself in you. Nick began to wrap your foot, making it nice and snug so it could begin to heal.

 “Y/N… L/N. Um, thank you.” You thanked Nick, glancing up at him as he gave you a small smile, standing up from the floor, going back towards the kitchen, grabbing the jug of water.

 My eyes lit up as he handed it towards me, taking it into my hands as I began chugging a good amount, almost choking on it a bit. Once my lips left the opening, I breathed heavily, feeling my throat cool down a bit. “Oh thank god. I thought I was going to dehydrate to death.” I muttered, resting my eyes for a few seconds.

 “Do you want to use the shower? You’re covered in blood.” Nick mentioned and I nodded my head, placing the jug into his hands as he brought it back into the kitchen. I attempted to stand up, wobbling a bit as I limped towards him. “Hey, careful.” He mumbled, taking my arm as I leaned against the counter.

 “Sorry, I’m just excited to get all this blood off me. I haven’t done this tactic in quite a while.” I mumbled as Nick led me towards his bathroom, turning on the shower before leaning against the door frame, grinning. Oh boy. Don’t grin at me…

 “Yeah, I haven’t done it in a while either.” He laughed and I glanced back at him, his arms crossed his chest.

 “You’ve done this before?” I asked, gesturing to the blood on my face and arms as he nodded his head in agreement. “Interesting. You probably look real good with blood on you.” I whispered the last part, my eyes widening at what I had just said.

 “What’d you say?” Nick asked and I shook my head, muttering ‘nothing,’ before slamming the door to the bathroom shut. I leaned my forehead against the door, letting out a sigh before slipping my clothes off, getting into the luke-warm shower.

 Nick bit his lip, staring at the closed door in front of him before walking back into the main area, sitting down on the couch. There was a knock on his door and he tilts his head to the side, not expecting any company at this hour. He stood up, opening the door, seeing Troy standing in the doorway.

 “Hey Nicky. Everything okay?” Troy asked and Nick looked at him confused, eyes narrowed as he nodded his head.

 “Yeah, why? What’s going on?” Nick asked and Troy was about to tell him when you cut him off, yelling from the bathroom door.

 “Nick? I, uh, I don’t have a towel.” You yelled out, pressing your lips together as just your head was peeking out from the door. Nick glanced between you and Troy as his eyes widened.

 “Who’s that Nicky?” Troy asked, taking a step forwards and Nick stopped him, placing a hand to his chest. “Because that’s not a voice I recognize.” Troy continues to push past him, looking down the hallway to see you.

 “Oh shit.” I muttered, sticking my head back into the bathroom, closing the door, locking it quickly as I heard the guy’s footsteps.

 “Troy, wait.” Nick called out, running after him. I placed my back to the door, stretching my arms out as the door shakes. “Wait wait. I let her in. I found her passed out outside the gate of dehydration. I wasn’t just going to let her die.” I heard him growl, my cheeks becoming warm as he defended me.

 “Fine. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” Troy muttered, leaving the cabin. I heard the doorknob jiggle and my breath hitched, closing my eyes shut.

 “Y/N? It’s just me.” Nick whispered against the door and I let out a sigh of relief, unlocking the door, opening it just a smidge.

 “Who was that?” I asked, looking out the small gap at him.

 “That’s Troy. His dad owns the ranch. I-I have your towel.” He muttered, handing it over to me and I smiled gently at him, my fingers touching the soft cloth.

 “Thanks, Nick.” I grinned, blushing a bit as he nodded his head, pointing towards the living room, signaling that’s where he’d be. I closed the door, smiling to myself as I wrapped the towel around my body, drying off a bit. I placed my clothes back on after I dried off, running the towel through my hair before putting it over the shower curtain to dry. I fixed my hair a bit, unconsciously checking if I looked cute or not before leaving the bathroom.

 Nick glanced up at me as I walked into the living area, my hands clasped together as I stood in front of him. He stood up in front of me, softly smiling down at me as I contemplated asking him a major question.

 “Nick?” I called out and I heard a ‘mm’ and I took a deep breath. “Um, would it be too much to ask if I could possibly stay here? At the ranch.” I asked and he turned towards me, letting out a sigh.

 “Honestly? I don’t know. Troy’s going to tell his father that you most likely broke in and they’re not going to be so fond about it.” He told me and I glanced at the ground, my eyes fluttering shut.

 “I guess I’ve decided my fate.” I whispered, tears threatening to spill as I walked towards the french doors, looking out at the land outside of the fence. “I just want to feel safe for once.” I muttered mostly to myself.

 I felt Nick place his hand on my lower back, making me turn around and I wiped my cheeks, not looking at him. “Hey, look at me.” Nick whispered, lifting my chin. I looked up at him, his eyes searching mine as I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, but for now you can use my room to sleep. It looks like you haven’t had a proper sleep in ages.” He muttered, rubbing my back as I sniffled lightly, nodding my head in his shoulder.

 I untangled my arms from him, making my way towards the only room in the house as I stepped into the large bedroom, seeing a queen-sized bed placed in the middle of it. I collapsed onto it, falling into a deep sleep immediately as I curled into a ball, shaking a bit.

 I felt hands touch me and jumped, grabbing the army knife I had placed under the pillow, pointing it at the person. Nick placed his hands up in surrender, his eyes wide as I let out a sigh, putting the knife down.

 “Jesus, Nick. You can’t do that.” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Nick slowly brought his hands down, sitting on the bed beside me.

 “Sorry. Jeremiah, Troy’s dad, wants to see you.” He muttered and my chest clenched, nodding my head a bit, whispering a small ‘okay.’

 I slipped my boots on, tying them quickly before walking out of Nick’s house, Nick not too far behind me as Troy waited for me at the bottom of the steps. He gave me a small smirk as he lead me towards his father. I played with the tips of my fingers, glancing back at Nick. He gave me a small smile, slightly catching up to me and I grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly.

 We arrived at one of the main buildings, Troy turning around to make sure I was still there and he glanced down at Nick and I’s intertwined fingers. “Aw Nicky. You have a soft spot for this girl you saved.” Nick glared slightly as Troy grabbed my arm, pulling me away from Nick as another guy stopped Nick from coming into the house.

 “No, I’m not going in there without Nick.” I muttered, stepping away from Troy. I could hear Nick’s yells, telling Troy to let him join.

 “Listen, you shouldn’t even be here. I don’t know how you did it, but let me tell you… there’s a possibility of you not getting out of this alive.” Troy growled, gripping my wrist and I let out a small yelp, his large hand almost crushing the fragile bones.

 “Troy! Let the poor girl go, and for god sakes just let Nick in.” An older man, presuming to be Jeremiah called out as Troy sighed, letting go of my wrist and walks towards the front door, letting Nick in.

 Nick had ran inside, wrapping me into a hug as Troy scoffed. “What is it with her? You don’t even know her.” Troy muttered as she passed the pair.

 “She reminds me of myself when I was alone, doing anything to survive.” Nick mentioned, eyes narrowing at Troy. I looked up at Nick, smiling softly at him as he slightly pushed me behind him. “Let her stay, please. She won’t last much longer out there, especially with her hurt ankle.” Nick negotiated with Jeremiah as I watched, gripping the back of his shirt.

 “Nick…” I muttered, trying to step forward but he stopped me, glancing back at me. “I have to face the consequences.” I whispered and he turned towards me, towering over me.

 “No you don’t. You were trying to survive.” He emphasised on the last word and I sighed, glancing to the ground. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Nick muttered, his hands pressed against my cheeks.

 “I’m sorry.” I whispered, taking his hands in mine, removing them from my face. “Thank you for for helping me.” I pressed my lips to his cheek, walking past him over towards the two men. Jeremiah nodded his head towards the door and Troy took my arm, leading me outside.

 “You’re pretty brave for doing that, you know.” Troy mentioned as I looked at the people around us, giving me weird looks. “I mean, he was trying to save your life.”

 “Yeah, I know.” I muttered, glancing at the ground as he brought me to Nick’s place, letting go of my arm. I glanced up at him confused as he turned around, walking back in the other direction. “Wait, what’s going on?” I asked and he turned around again to face me.

 “What’s it look like… Welcome to the ranch, Y/N.” He smiled softly, continuing to walk the other way. I let out a huff of breath, smiling widely as I walked into the house, going into Nick’s room, grabbing my bag. I stopped my actions when I heard the front door open as it slammed shut a few seconds later.

 “Jesus Christ.” I heard Nick mutter followed by silence as I bit my lip softly. I opened the bedroom door quietly, sticking my head out as I saw him sitting on the couch, his head hung back.

 I started walking closer to him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the counter. “Fancy seeing you here, Clark.” I chuckled and he jumped, looking towards me. He let out a throaty laugh, getting up off the couch, strolling towards me.

 “What are you doing here?” He asked, grinning down at me as I shrugged, biting my lip.

 “Well I’m gonna say that I live here now?” I smiled, placing one of my hands on his chest, rubbing it softly. Nick’s eyes glanced down at my hand before looking back at my eyes. He brought one of his hands to my face, caressing my cheek before pressing his lips to mine.

 I let out a gasp, pulling away from him immediately, looking at him with wide eyes. We stared at each other for a few seconds before I wrapped my arms around his neck, connecting our lips together again. My fingers ran through his hair as his lips moved against mine, tilting his head to the side a bit. His hands rested on my waist, pushing me against the wall, dragging his lips against mine, feeling his breath hit my face.

 “I certainly didn’t expect that to happen.” I whispered against his lips, hearing him chuckle as his thumb rubbed my clothed skin.

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re mine now. All mine…” Nick whispered, moving a piece of hair out of my face.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“The tormenters concealed themselves beneath robes and horned masks; some of the clothing was dark, some white, some bore crosses or grotesque designs. The man leading this night’s havoc was Dr. J. Rufus Bratton. One local resident and former slave later remembered Bratton as a man who set the “style of polite living” around York County. A father of seven who volunteered to serve as an army surgeon for the Confederacy during the war, Dr. Bratton was the county’s leading physician as well as one of the top officials in its Klan. He brought an agenda with him that night that he shared with only a select number of the other nightriders, a term the press began to apply to the violent men.

Bratton claimed a local black militia led by a man named James Williams was responsible for a rash of fires at white-owned properties. These militiamen, supported by the state and federal governments in an effort to encourage black civic engagement, were not content with a ceremonial status. They swore to avenge the Klan’s growing list of misdeeds and murders, to become a kind of counter-Klan force. During the course of the ride, Bratton rendezvoused with younger members of his order, including Amos and Chambers Brown, sons of a former magistrate, and the four Sherer brothers, who were only formally initiated into the Klan during that night’s ride. When the men met up, they used code words confirming their membership.

“Who comes there?”

“Friends.”

“Friends to whom?”

“Friends to our country.”

Bratton directed this smaller unit of men to the home of Andy Timons, a member of Williams’s militia.

Timons woke to shouts. “Here we come, right from hell!” They demanded the door be opened. Before Timons had a chance to reach it, they broke it from the hinges and grabbed him. “We want to see your captain tonight.”

After beating Timons until he gave up the location of Williams’ home, about a dozen Klansmen rode in that direction. They picked up yet another member of the black militia on their way there; even with the information on Williams’ whereabouts obtained from Timons they needed more help to locate a rural cabin in the dead of night. “We are going to kill Jim Williams,” they told their new guide.

Williams’ offenses in the eyes of Bratton and his co-conspirators predated the formation of the militia. During the Civil War, Williams had been a slave near Brattonsville (a plantation named for Dr. Bratton’s ancestors, and where Bratton himself was born) until he escaped from his master and crossed into the North to fight for the Union army. When he returned to York County after the South’s defeat a free man, he represented an era of new beginnings, “a leading radical amongst the niggers,” as one Klansman groused. He changed his name from Rainey, the name of his former owners, to Williams and headed the militia that vowed to check the Klan’s power.

A few hundred yards from Williams’ house, Bratton brought a smaller detachment of his men to the door. Rose Williams answered, informing them her husband had gone out and she did not know where he was. Searching the house, they only found the Williams children and another man. The raid’s leader was not satisfied that his prize for the night was gone and studied the house with his piercing black eyes.

“He might be under there,” Bratton said of some wood flooring that caught his eye.

They lowered themselves, trying for the most likely spot. Prying up the planks, they found Jim Williams crouched beneath.

Rose pleaded with them not to hurt her husband. They told her to go to bed with her children and marched Williams out of the house. Andy Timons, meanwhile, scrambled to gather the militia to warn Williams, but the Klan’s head start was too great. Bratton had brought a rope with him from town and placed it around Williams’ neck as the group selected a pine tree they decided “was the place to finish the job.” Williams agreed to climb up by his own power to the branch from which they would drop him, but when they were ready to finish the job, he grabbed onto a tree limb and would not let go. One of Bratton’s subordinates, Bob Caldwell, hacked at Williams’ fingers with a knife until he dropped.

Searching the woods later, Timons and Rose found him hanging by the neck. A card on the corpse mocked the militia: Jim Williams on his big muster. Meanwhile, Dr. Bratton rejoined the larger group of Klan riders, who stopped for refreshments at the home of Bratton’s brother, John. One of the Klansmen who had not been on the raid asked where Williams was.

“He is in hell I expect,” replied Bratton.

At Bratton’s brother’s house the secret riders could relax without their disguises, revealing some of the most recognizable and distinguished faces of York County. They could celebrate weakening the will and abilities of their local political enemies through their latest campaign of intimidation. But their actions under the cover of darkness that night—and on many other nights filled with whippings, beatings, sexual assault, and murders—were set to unleash an unprecedented counterattack from the federal government with a single goal: to wipe out the KKK.

2.

The Klan’s crimes across the interior of South Carolina reached their saturation point around the time of Williams’ murder. His was just one of many black bodies recovered in the Klan hotbeds of York County (remains were still being found in the area 20 years later). Gov. Robert Scott, a veteran of the Union Army who moved south to aid Reconstruction efforts, pleaded for federal help. The Ku Klux Klan may have seemed merely a ghoulish attempt to scare people when it first spread from its founding chapter in Tennessee in 1865, but Scott contended it became “a terrible fact, an armed organization, thoroughly equipped, having its field, staff and line officers, and established lines of communication.” There was a war on, this time with only one side fighting.

Scott extracted promises of peace from local white power brokers with Klan ties only to watch violence resume. He could not call on state militias because they’d been disbanded for the safety of the militiamen; the so-called Kukluxers had outgunned them. In fact, the closest thing to a working militia in South Carolina was the Klan itself. The seriousness of the problem became impossible to avoid, working its way to President Ulysses S. Grant. Grant promised “prompt and decisive” federal action to a visiting delegation from South Carolina. Strategists at the War Department, the forerunner of the Department of Defense, began to rearrange their map of United States Army regiments to free up forces and zeroed in on a battle-tested officer named Lewis Merrill to lead the unusual engagement.

Maj. Merrill, having drawn the assignment, had to confess he had doubts about the stories he’d heard of Ku Klux Klan dominance in South Carolina. “Let me put it stronger even than that,” Merrill said when recalling his thoughts upon receiving his next post while stationed in Kansas. “I was absolutely incredulous.” His superior officer warned him that the reality of the Klan’s terrorism was worse than rumors could convey. Whatever else he thought he might be up against, the 36-year-old Maj. Merrill could never imagine how this mission would reshape his life and legacy.

The West Point–trained Merrill, who attracted strong acolytes and stronger enemies, had been promoted while in the Union Army until he was commanding his own unit. His cavalry regiment in the Civil War, taking on the identity of its headstrong leader, became known simply as “Merrill’s horse.” Raised in Pennsylvania in a family filled with lawyers, including his Dartmouth-educated father, Merrill felt many of that profession’s skills of methodical analysis and procedure had been passed down to him, and he showed them off as a military inspector general and judge advocate in courts-martial. He had an imposing build and youthful face. A New-York Tribune reporter mused that he looked like a German professor, probably from the air of blunt intensity that can be detected in surviving photographs of him. Merrill ranked as a top officer in the 7th Cavalry by the time he headed for South Carolina.

Maj. Merrill was something of a specialist in handling elusive dangers and sensitive dynamics. During the war, he had taken on guerrillas in Missouri who stalked Union soldiers, and then faced Confederate troops hidden in the woods in Arkansas in the Battle of Bayou Fourche. In postwar Kansas, he had been charged with the tricky job of clearing up a conflict over territory between the Miami tribe of Native Americans and white settlers—with his original mandate being to remove all the whites. As the slow, rickety train carrying his men—made up mostly of Troop K of the 7th Cavalry—traveled through the interior of South Carolina, Merrill contemplated how soldiers coming from outside state lines could address a problem of locals terrorizing locals.

K Troop did not arrive in York County quietly. They marched all day on foot and horseback 22 miles from the Chester railroad station and reached Yorkville around 9 o’clock the night of March 26, 1871; in addition to the 60 horses with the 90-odd men, the officers’ pampered dogs strutted through the streets. The entrance of the troop was announced in the newspapers and spoken of on the long front porches of shops and houses. The high society ladies of Yorkville paid visits to Merrill’s wife, Anna, who had come along with other officers’ wives.

Merrill immediately organized open meetings where community leaders turned out in force to hear his exhortations for their assistance. He was, as usual, direct and to the point. His purpose was “to preserve public order so far as lies in my power.” The obvious and most painless solution was to enlist the reasonable white citizens to put an end to disturbances by the misguided and disgruntled among them. The county leaders promised to use their influence to do just that. They circulated and signed petitions to the same effect and published them in the newspapers.

One of the most vocal of these boosters for Merrill’s cause was a tall, slender gentleman with an unassuming, even kindly demeanor: Dr. Rufus Bratton. The same man who fitted the rope around Jim Williams’ neck.

* * *

The name of the organization Merrill faced in York derived from the Greek kyklos for “circle” and the Scottish-Gaelic clan. The clan aspect emphasized the quasi-familial relationships promised by the order in a postwar South where many actual families were reduced in size or strength. It was a circle in the sense of a society or group but also its insularity and isolation. Klan rules managed to keep identities and plans secret even within the order, with members only referred to by numbers while involved in their operations. Contact was deliberately limited between one den and another or between subordinates and higher officers.

Klan operatives carefully monitored incoming intelligence on the efforts against them. In fact, before K Troop made the long trip from Kansas, a different squadron of U. S. Army soldiers headed for York County to prevent a Klan scheme to attack the county treasurer’s office. The Klan tore up the railroad tracks in advance to stop the infantry’s arrival. While the soldiers labored to repair the tracks, the Klan carried out its raid on the treasury—which targeted the white treasurer whom the Klan believed supported the black militia. The treasurer, knowing the Klan wanted him dead, fled not just the county, but the country, ending up in Canada.

“The cause of Ku-Kluxism lies in the dissatisfaction of the white leaders with the results of the war, and in their determination to nullify these.”

K Troop’s operation was no simple protective detail, and ripping out a few tracks wouldn’t have stopped them. The Klan leaders met with a lawyer who advised them on the best strategies to avoid trouble. The brain trust ordered its members to smile and extend their hands in friendship. By putting some of the major Klansmen front and center to promise their support, they were, in essence, rendering themselves invisible. Bratton and the other Klan leaders hoped they could distract the newcomer Merrill with cooperation long enough that he would report back that panic about the Klan was unwarranted. In this scenario, K Troop would be ordered back sooner or later to more significant places of engagement, handing the secret paramilitary organization, in Merrill’s later words, “the whole game in their own hands.”

Merrill did report to his superiors that the assignment looked like a quick one. But even with a naturally trusting personality, he knew better than to rely on appearances. One recurring comment from the supposedly supportive community leaders particularly jarred Merrill. He heard it from almost every prominent citizen up and down Congress Street. After promises to help stop the outrageous Klan, people would add some variation of: “But you cannot but acknowledge that they have done some good.” It was as though they couldn’t help themselves.

Yorkville was a quaint town with a respectably bustling commercial center, but the area had struggled with a farm economy hit by higher-than-average rates of casualties during the war as well as by the transition away from slave labor. When paying wages to his former slaves no longer made financial sense on his farmland, Dr. Bratton cut ties and gave them the ominous direction to “go their way with their freedom either in peace or misery.” The hardships heightened many white citizens’ anger over the perceived intrusion of Northern values that produced “radical” empowerment of the large local black community. The ingredients proved a powerful breeding ground for Klan membership.

“The cause of Ku-Kluxism,” Merrill reported to Congress, “lies in the dissatisfaction of the white leaders with the results of the war, and in their determination to nullify these ... to make salvage of the wreck of the rebellion.” This chimes with Bratton’s private thoughts. He reflected in his diary on the experience of abandoning a Confederate hospital out of concern it could be targeted by the Union Army: “I prayed that the day of retribution would soon come when justice long withheld should be meted out to these ruthless invaders of our Country.” Later, Bratton had sheltered Jefferson Davis during the Confederate president’s flight from capture. Davis left him with words of advice: “Do not expect anything just or right from the abolition Yankee. They will never grant you our rights.”

It was now six years since Appomattox, but evidence of the war’s aftermath was everywhere. Sgt. Winfield Scott Harvey, the blacksmith of K Troop, kept track of the battlefields they passed on their trip by boat and train from Kansas to York. Burned mansions still dotted the landscape. Many Southern whites stewed with anger at their defeat and humiliation at the hands of the Union Army and the continued degradation through Reconstruction efforts of their perceived birthrights of racial and economic superiority. Their black neighbors were daily reminders of all they had lost beyond battles. If a ghost war was to be carried out, blacks were the proxies for the North and the Klan were the ghost soldiers, right down to their flowing robes and masks.

Merrill collected details of heart-breaking murders like that of Jim Williams and the myriad instances of whippings and beatings. The municipal authorities rarely acted in any of these cases. The difficulty of inquiring into these crimes started with the anonymity the Klan achieved through its disguises, but that was only the beginning. Even when Klansmen were recognized by their voices or horses, or a mask torn away, witnesses remained “terror-struck” and were sometimes targeted by the Klan to make certain they wouldn’t testify. When one black witness to a murder told the coroner he feared for his life if he reported what he knew, the coroner laughed and the other white men in the room, including members of the coroner’s jury, nudged each other.

Merrill, using the methodical skills he’d proudly displayed in his judicial roles in courts-martial, cross-referenced the records of the county clerks, the coroner’s office, and the courts to piece together an improvised evidence locker for the Klan’s crime waves. He even requisitioned the sign pinned to Jim Williams’ dead body to analyze the handwriting. Merrill scrawled detailed notes in his rushed but precise script on a growing pile of loose scraps of paper. He discovered with his own eyes the spell of terror around the county. Black men could be found sleeping in the woods at night instead of in their houses, in fear of being dragged from their beds; at the same time, those taking shelter in the woods worried about what could happen to their wives and other family members left alone. Klansmen raped and sexually assaulted black women both for pleasure and retaliation.

The more Merrill learned, the more determined he became. He was uncompromising about his responsibilities and about holding other people to theirs. When Merrill trained at West Point, he served on sentry duty when a fellow cadet was caught hazing another cadet. The perpetrator began to flee and ignored Merrill’s orders to halt. Merrill stabbed his classmate with his bayonet, sending him to the hospital with a flesh wound.

Merrill spread the word around York County that he offered sanctuary to those who feared the Klan. Quietly, he gathered informants. He astutely recognized how even though the Klan and its enablers were “fully convinced that because the negroes do not show any signs of resistance they are completely cowed,” that, in fact, “this is far from the truth.” Whether they had tried to resist by force or through the law, the system was against them. Now the citizens could fight back by helping Merrill.

One of those citizens was an extraordinarily brave black farmer—Merrill protected his name so well that to this day it is not to be found in the surviving records. The Klan compelled this man to assist them, presumably to carry out errands and perhaps to provide them information on other blacks. In return, they would not drive him from his home and destroy his crops. Caught in this awful vise, the farmer now had another path. He became one of Merrill’s most valuable spies.

Merrill’s confidential notes became detailed documentation—the first of its kind—of the Klan culture, its sacred oaths, and its secret code words and signals designed to allow members of the order to communicate covertly. In addition to the “friends to our country” salute exchanged on the way to the Klan’s lynching of Jim Williams, if an officer of the Klan needed proof of another officer’s status, he would ask, “Are you a Ku Klux?” The response that would confirm it was “I am not.”

As the hot and rainy spring progressed, Dr. Bratton and the other Klan officers, including wealthy merchant James Avery who earned the Klan’s title “Grand Giant” (head of a county), had more reason to worry. Merrill made clear in his public meetings that he would dismantle the Ku Klux Klan, and he looked to be in no rush to bring K Troop out of Yorkville. They had settled in at the Rose Hotel on Congress Street, an especial affront to Bratton—he and a business partner built the hotel, and Bratton’s house sat next door. One of Bratton’s vivid memories from his time as a Confederate surgeon was staying up one summer night in 1863 caring for 30 wounded men fighting for their lives in a makeshift hospital, with only one other doctor to help him. Now he had to watch day after day as blue-coated soldiers, some of whom may have fired the bullets that had forced him to carry out endless gruesome amputations that “gloomy, weary” July night during the war, milled about in the comforts of his building.

The Klan’s foot soldiers grumbled at commands from on high to keep a low profile in order to wait out Merrill’s stay; their mandate was to prevent the growing influence and independence of the black population—by preventing black voting, blacks holding office, blacks arming themselves—and sitting around would ensure their gains would erode. It would only be a matter of time before Klansmen would take up arms again, with K Troop added to their target list.

3.

Nighttime raids against blacks who were causing real or imaginary problems for the Klan resumed within weeks of K Troop’s arrival. One of those considered a threat was a 52-year-old preacher named Elias Hill, as much a warrior in this fight as Merrill and his heavily armed soldiers. Hill’s body was dwarfish and his limbs drawn, as he put it, “out of all human shape.” His condition first revealed itself when he was a young slave, then attributed to “rheumatism” and believed by some modern scholars to have been muscular dystrophy.

Hill was a brilliant autodidact, a schoolteacher and preacher. He was, as far as Merrill understood, one of only two blacks in York County who could write (some of the children of his former owner helped teach him when he was a child). Despite his physical frailty, his intelligence and influence made him an enemy to the Klan.

The Klan’s activities were deliberately performative, carefully designed to convince victims that the Klansmen were nobody and everybody.

On May 5, 1871, Klansmen burst into his cabin and dragged him from his bed by straps they wrapped around his feeble neck. They threw him onto the muddy ground, beat him, and forced him to admit—though he couldn’t walk or even crawl—to starting fires that had supposedly plagued white-owned properties. They also forced him to renounce support for Republican politics and to swear to publish a statement to that effect in the newspaper. Bizarrely, they made him promise he would cancel his subscription to a certain newspaper they found politically offensive. They pulled at his deformed and contracted legs and pointed pistols at his head. They asked him if he was ready to die. The Rev. Hill told them with a composure that likely made his tormenters angrier that he was not quite ready to die and that he would rather live. Threatening to toss him into the river, they accused him of having supported Jim Williams before he was hanged and of having corresponded with Rep. Alexander Wallace.

Hill survived. His sister-in-law and mother were beaten the same night. Klansmen found and burned the letters between Hill and Wallace and while some of the attackers began breaking up furniture, Hill could hear a conspicuously well-spoken Klansman chastise the others, encapsulating a social divide within the Klan: “Don’t break any private property, gentlemen, if you please. We have got what we came for.” The importance of the letters between Wallace and Hill to the attackers is telling. The Klan leadership despised the pro-Reconstruction Wallace and might well have concluded that the articulate and influential preacher’s letters to the congressman played a part in leading the War Department to initiate the occupation of Yorkville, their county seat, by Merrill.

Hill was in so much pain he could hardly speak, but in a remarkable finish to the outrages, the assailants forced the preacher to pray. “Don’t you pray against Ku-Klux,” he was ordered from under one of the hoods, “but pray that God may forgive Ku-Klux. Don’t pray against us. Pray that God may bless and save us.” A Klansman gave him back one of his books before leaving and, Hill later recounted, momentarily “forgot to speak in that outlandish tone that they use to disguise their voices.” Between the costumes and their voices, the Klan’s activities were deliberately performative, carefully designed to convince victims that the Klansmen were nobody and everybody, that there was no escaping them. Though the masked attackers promised to come back and finish him off if he disobeyed their commands, when he regained strength, Hill—in an incredibly courageous act—wrote a letter to Merrill detailing the assault.

Blacks were also sneaking into Merrill’s headquarters at night to relay stories to him and identify members of the Klan. As in the example of the Rev. Hill, their bravery in putting their lives and their families’ lives at risk by going to Merrill cannot be overstated. One woman whom the Klan beat—and whose child was beaten in front of her—was promised there would be further violence if she ever told Merrill, which she promptly did. Only through the heroism of these men and women could Merrill obtain the evidence and inside information he would need. Merrill tallied 11 murders in the county for 1870 and the first half of 1871 alone, forcing him to severely revise his original outlook. “The prospect of a peaceable future here,” he said, “is gloomy.” He sent troops riding at night as a kind of patrol around Clay Hill, the area where many blacks lived and most outrages occurred. But the “Invisible Circle” proved as elusive to catch in the act as that mystical moniker suggested.

When Gov. Scott had requested help from the federal government, he had been confident even the Klan would never go against the United States Army. In addition to Merrill, K Troop boasted formidable veterans of the Union Army. Second in command was Capt. Owen Hale, a descendant of the Revolutionary War hero Nathan Hale. The 28-year-old moved up the ranks rapidly during the Civil War and earned the nickname “Holy Owen,” which has been alternately attributed to his embodiment of the perfect soldier or to his versatile profanity. Ohioan Edward S. Godfrey, 27, entered the infantry in the Civil War a private and served impressively enough to receive a place in West Point, leading to his eventual position as Merrill’s lieutenant.

But Merrill knew the longer he stayed, the higher the likelihood of incidents in this unfamiliar setting. Even the dust in the air made men ill. When one soldier of K Troop, George Whittimore, caught a serious disease and died, he was buried in this land of strangers. Merrill contended with the reluctance of so many white locals to accept the soldiers into their cemeteries—even in death they remained invaders.

An unusual number of Merrill’s soldiers fell from the hotel’s windows, including one who died from his injuries. Merrill was suspicious about the casualties, dryly noting “nothing remarkable about the placing of the windows which should bring such a result.” Drunkenness and clumsiness might have been the only culprits for the falls, but Dr. Bratton’s knowledge and access to the hotel undeniably provided opportunity for structural sabotage. Desertion also became a damaging and atypical problem. Merrill reported back that the “desertions are encouraged and facilitated by Ku Klux and their sympathizers.” In one instance, Klansmen provided deserters with horses and escorted them to the railroad station. In addition to depleting Merrill’s resources, the desertions gave ammunition to the Klan for a propaganda war, feeding details to the press to portray Merrill as an unfit commander.

The York County sheriff made his eagerness to help clear upon Merrill’s arrival, so Merrill arranged joint patrols to look for Klan marauders and agreed to Capt. Hale being appointed a special deputy. Merrill explained to Sheriff R.H. Glenn that he was setting up a stakeout for one of the Klan squads to catch them during the commission of a crime. The squad was warned at the last minute and avoided the supposed trap. In fact, Merrill’s gambit had not been a trap for the Klan at all; it had been a mole hunt. Sheriff Glenn was the only person who could have warned the Klan, and he had exposed his allegiances.

Merrill also suspected the Klan had been going through his private papers. He used the same office in the Rose Hotel formerly used by the ex-country treasurer who had been driven to flee to Canada. Merrill left bait in his office in the form of a pencil memorandum about the Klan. The bait disappeared from his desk. In an example of Merrill’s cunning humor, the faux memoranda apparently warned the Klan that Merrill was coming after them.

* * *

As the hot summer air mixed with light rains coming from the coast, a new plot brewed from the Klan side of the chess game—a brazen plan to attack Merrill’s troops.

The Rose Hotel housing K Troop was a brick building on the main street in Yorkville; there was an adjacent stable where the horses were kept and white tents on open ground set up for the guards. Merrill’s men were in the center of all things, a constant reminder to the Klan and their victims of their presence—but a security risk to the soldiers themselves.

The unnamed black farmer now serving as Merrill’s best spy first informed him of the details of the plan. A squad of Klansmen would sneak into the back of his camp and fire two or three volleys on the bluecoats before fleeing, with the probable intention of provoking enough of a response back from Merrill’s men to cement the United States Army’s status as villains in the public eye. Merrill himself observed a young man doing reconnaissance for the assault while the soldiers listened to a sermon by a visiting preacher.

Merrill doubled the men posted to the stable. Horses were saddled up and ready. He also doubled the camp guards, pacing with their long Sharps rifles, and placed six men around his own rented house, a two-story structure hugged by oaks and pines, where his wife stayed with his son, 11, and daughters, 9 and 13. He posted what he called “silent sentry” who, if they saw the approaching armed assailants, would signal the rest of the troop but “let them come.”

The next morning, the soldiers drilled in the open for everyone in the town to see. The major also made sure he was easy to locate that day. Attending to some business at the courthouse, Merrill was told there were some men who wanted to see him. He found a delegation of community leaders, several of whom had greeted him upon his arrival to town. They wanted to know about the excitement around his camp. Merrill told them about the Klan’s plan to attack the soldiers and the men pushed for more. They demanded to know the names of the alleged assailants so they could help bring them to justice.

Merrill’s maneuvers had been canny. He already had the names of 10 or a dozen Klan members who had planned to carry out the attack. He could have simply sent a detachment of troops to round them up. Alternatively, he could have added protective measures in his camp stealthily. Instead, he’d staged his forces to let the Klan know that he knew they were coming. One of two things would happen. The attackers would “screw their courage to the sticking point” (as Merrill said, absorbing the drama of the moment and quoting Macbeth) and follow through with the attack, at which time Merrill would “gobble them up.” Merrill confessed he was hoping for this scenario because of his “exasperation with their infamously cowardly outrages and with the stolid indifference cowardice and want of capacity, honesty and energy of the civil authorities.” In other words, he wanted the chance for a free shot at them.

Then there was scenario two. If one or more “respectable citizens” came to him asking for information about his informants, he would have good reason to believe they were part of the Klan, and either had been behind the abandoned scheme or were looking to punish a breakaway faction for plotting against orders. Klan members who took the secret oath and then betrayed the Klan were, so the rules stated, sacrificed. Merrill had learned the exact language of the oath:

I do solemnly swear to support and defend and bear true allegiance to the Invisible Circle. ... To keep sacred all the secrets committed to me or that come to my knowledge concerning the invisible circle, and if I fail in my oath or reveal the secrets of the order may I meet the traitor’s doom which is Death! Death! Death!

The delegation of concerned citizens at the impromptu meeting with Merrill in the courthouse pressed for more—who was Merrill’s informant? Merrill had as good as torn the masks off the Ku Klux Klan leadership. He looked into their eyes, so filled with concern for Merrill’s mission of law and order. The eyes of Dr. Rufus Bratton, merchants James Avery and Thomas Graham, Judge Beatty. Merrill said he was not at liberty to give the names of the thwarted assailants or his informants, but he promised the men that the time would come for those who had planned the attack to be punished, and reassured them that he had perfect knowledge of his enemy.

4.

The Klan rank and file weren’t the only ones spoiling for action. Sgt. Harvey couldn’t help feeling disappointment the planned raid against their camp did not happen. “Our Troop laid on their arms ready to receive them,” wrote the blacksmith, “but they are too big of a coward to come.” The solders’ animosities extended toward the people of Yorkville at large. While the Fourth of July found K Troop celebrating with cheers and shouts, the visiting soldiers found the streets eerily quiet. The locals’ anger and suspicion toward the government ran so deep, they refused to honor the holiday.

“Go out and shoot every white man you meet, and you will hit a Ku-Klux every time.”

Merrill assigned spies to shadow all those citizens he now suspected of leading the Klan, including Dr. Bratton. He was making his plans to engage the enemy, but a big step awaited completion: to convince Washington that things were worse than even the most vocal alarmists had claimed. Political opponents of the Klan did their part back in D.C., succeeding in the passage of legislation that allowed the president to call for the dispersal and arrest of the Ku Klux Klan under certain conditions. Merrill had to demonstrate that his mission in York County had produced the proof and justification to put the act into motion.

Merrill realized, more and more, just how surrounded he was. When he telegraphed information back to Washington, Klan members instantly came into possession of the whole exchange—the telegraph operator was part of the Klan. The conductor of the railroad was Klan, too, and spied on the movements of bluecoats delivering messages for Merrill. Along with the already exposed sheriff were judges, lawyers, municipal officials—all loyal members. As one of Merrill’s soldiers commented in a morbid mood, “Go out and shoot every white man you meet, and you will hit a Ku-Klux every time.” Merrill’s knowledge of the Klan’s assortment of signals could make a simple walk down Congress Street a surreal experience—if two men shaking hands interlaced their little fingers and touched the palm with the point of the forefinger, they were Klan; if one man tapped his left ear with his left hand three times, and another walking by then put his right hand in his right pocket, thumb on the outside and fingers on the inside, Klansmen were hailing each other. It was as though the major entered some Poe-inspired gothic tale about a search for a town’s hidden monsters that ended with half the townspeople the monsters.

Merrill’s chance to mobilize the information and intelligence he’d so carefully compiled came with the visit of a four-person delegation from Congress. Reps. Job Stevenson and Philadelphia Van Trump of Ohio, and Sen. John Scott of Pennsylvania were escorted to town by Rep. Wallace from the local district.

Merrill, who kept out of politics whenever possible, dined with the congressmen the evening of their arrival at Rawlinson’s Hotel in the center of town. Publicly showing himself with the delegation reminded the Klan, after their aborted attack on camp, that he still had the federal government’s backing and gave them incentive to stop marauding while they had a choice. Merrill had much to tell the legislators, constituting a subcommittee of a larger body looking into violence in the South.

Merrill described how his original doubts about the Klan’s power had been fully dispelled. Klan violence was everywhere, and York County’s will and ability to act against it was nonexistent. “I never conceived,” Merrill reported bluntly, “of such a state of social disorganization being possible in any civilized community.” A full three-fourths of the white population in the area were part of or enablers of the Ku Klux Klan. In York County, Merrill estimated nearly 2,000 sworn-in members. There were whites who abhorred the Klan’s actions, but they were too frightened to do anything about it—white men had been hanged and had their throats slit for standing up to the order. “Martyrs have always been scarce,” as Merrill put it. One former Klansman who “puked” up information to Merrill (as the Klan put it) was now in hiding under the army’s protection.

A short time into the dinner, a drunken man named James Berry tried to empty a pitcher of cream onto Rep. Wallace, a liberal politician who was caricatured locally as a demonic villain. The hotelkeeper interfered at the last moment and the cream landed on Rep. Stevenson. Berry fortunately had decided against his first choice, hot coffee. Wallace and several other men at the table immediately thrust their hands into their pockets, and there was a palpable tension as onlookers in the restaurant waited for weapons to be drawn, a testament to the general expectation of violence hard-wired into York County. In fact, a drawn pistol was reported in the New York Times, but only handkerchiefs came out of coat pockets.

This rehearsal of violence portended the real thing. As Merrill continued his pivotal meeting with the delegation, a band of black musicians gathered in the pleasant evening air to serenade and celebrate the visitors from Washington. This attracted a crowd of hostile whites around the musicians. As Merrill and the visitors finished dinner, the standoff outside shifted into chaos. A policeman named William Snyder who was jostled by the crowd tried to arrest Tom Johnson, one of the black musicians, for blocking the sidewalk. When Johnson tried to run, the policeman shot him with his pistol at point-blank range.

Merrill was in conversation with Sen. Scott when the shots rang out. After the pistol fired, Merrill’s trained ear could make out the firing of a longer weapon coming from his own sentry shooting into the air to alert the troop. Merrill jumped up and ran. Reaching the center of the melee he found Johnson on the ground, his face covered in blood. In the crowd, the unreal atmosphere of York County revealed itself again. The policeman holding the smoking firearm was Klan. The Yorkville mayor, standing amid the crowd, was also Klan.

Merrill pleaded with the furious black onlookers to disperse from the scene. Having come to trust in Merrill and his mission, they listened. Merrill then demanded the mayor order the white crowd away. Merrill staved off the possibility of more bloodshed or a full-blown riot, and gave enough space for the victim to be treated. Snyder had shot Johnson once in the back through his shoulder, once through his hand, once in the elbow, once in the arm, and once through the face.

The local authorities, predictably, brought no charges against Snyder. Johnson somehow survived his wounds and Merrill’s interview with him added to his voluminous accounts of racial violence in York County. No more morbid demonstration of the Klan’s violent outrages could have been enacted for the members of the subcommittee—not only an unprovoked shooting a few feet from them, but also an understood fact that nothing would be done about it.

Dr. Bratton and Avery feared blowback from the subcommittee’s visit. Klan leaders worried that additional nervous members might spill secrets to the visitors and reminded membership—as if they needed such a reminder—that the punishment was death. Some Klansmen, showing hints of grave concern about what might come next, proposed accosting the congressional visitors and stealing their reports so they could not be returned to Washington, though wiser heads ruled out this plan.

Sen. Scott sent the subcommittee’s reports to Ulysses S. Grant’s summer home in Long Branch, New Jersey. Across the political spectrum some viewed Grant’s enforcement of Reconstruction policies toward the South as overreaching, creating an undercurrent of controversy as he progressed through the third year of his first term. But concerns about a re-election campaign could wait. Grant was alarmed by what he read in Scott’s documents.

The president left the seaside early to assemble his Cabinet at the White House. Armed with the information gathered by Merrill and collected by Scott and his committee, President Grant wanted immediate action. Bureaucracy, however, churned on, with months of further meetings, inquiries, delegations, grand jury investigations, and ever more reports, during which time the Klan continued its rides of terror and beatings, threatened victims if they dared report violence to the “petty despot” Merrill, and tore down the local black schoolhouse for the fourth time. Finally, an order from President Grant reached Merrill to bring in the insurgents—all of them.

5.

Members of the Ku Klux Klan were offered a five-day grace period to turn in their disguises and weapons. There would be no mass public surrender from a society so secretive that members often hid their identities from each other. The White House triggered the next step against York and nearby counties. For the first and last time in the country’s history, the president of the United States suspended habeas corpus—that is, the right of a judicial process for arrest and detention—during peacetime. The region was under martial law.

On Oct. 20, 1871, the Ku Klux Klan woke to find the world turned on its head.

Investigation and deliberation could be traded for action. K Troop readied. They had been practicing firing newly received rifles into new targets. Merrill’s superior, Gen. Alfred Terry, sent soldiers from the 7th Cavalry’s Troops D and L to supplement K, in addition to Troop C of the 18th Infantry, which had arrived for support. There would be more administrative needs to accompany the military ones. A South Carolina state senator assigned Louis Post, a self-proclaimed “carpetbagger” from the east, to Yorkville to assist as a secretary, and another private secretary, a man named Dick Clinton known for being especially clever, came from the military side.

Merrill’s telegraphic communications with Washington were now transmitted in cipher, with his Washington go-betweens urging Merrill to keep the key to the cipher “in your own custody as its loss, or betrayal would involve the change of the entire system.” They had learned that, in addition to having spies in the telegraph office, the Klan had a machine that could tap the wires to intercept the content of telegraphs. The Shakespeare-quoting Merrill probably never knew, but might have appreciated the fact, that one of the government clerks copying the outgoing confidential letters from the attorney general’s office to K Troop headquarters was 52-year-old poet Walt Whitman.

The time for the next phase couldn’t come soon enough for Merrill. Local blacks grew tired waiting for decisive action from him, and he worried they might suspect that he silently sympathized with the Klan. Survivors of Klan brutality such as the Rev. Elias Hill, even if they trusted Merrill, remained pessimistic that even the U. S. Army could make enough of a difference. In fact, in the same days that Merrill prepared for the most significant military operation of his career, Hill departed from South Carolina with a group of 165 blacks to settle in a recently established colony in Liberia, part of a movement within black America to create a destiny free from racial animus through relocation.

After four years of almost completely uncontested rule in the region, on Oct. 20, 1871, the Ku Klux Klan woke to find the world turned on its head. Merrill split his now 100-plus soldiers into individual posses, led by Lt. Godfrey and Capts. Hale and Thomas Weir, and on his signal they galloped off from the stables of the Rose Hotel in every direction. The Klan’s rides had terrorized their victims by bursting through doors and dragging them out, their fates and futures uncertain. Now they faced a version of the same formula, empowered by the pent-up strength of the 7th Cavalry’s K Troop, with a pointed difference that the troops arrived in broad daylight rather than in darkness. With their specialized training, K Troop had become a kind of operational counter–Ku Klux Klan force of the sort Jim Williams dreamed, down to the coincidental letter K in their name. Spreading out across York that day, the troops, accompanied by specially assigned U.S. Marshals, took in scores of Klansmen almost simultaneously.

The Klansmen had feared the worst and some had been on a sharp lookout for such movements against them. A detachment of troops neared the farm of the Browns. Amos and Chambers Brown, the latter one of the leaders of the local Klan den, had been part of Dr. Bratton’s lynching party of Jim Williams. The brothers, hearing or seeing Merrill’s troops coming, or perhaps hearing a coded warning ring out, fled the house. Left only with the young men’s father, 57-year-old former magistrate Samuel, Merrill ordered the family patriarch held in a nearby barn, where soon enough another half-dozen Klansmen rounded up from the immediate area would also be temporarily stocked.

Merrill thought Samuel could be used as leverage to draw his sons into custody. In fact, Merrill had taken in a bigger prize with Samuel than he knew. Lt. Godfrey found a key on the prisoner, and returning to the Brown homestead, opened a locked desk drawer containing the only copy of the Ku Klux Klan constitution and bylaws found during their raids in the entire Klan-infested county. Brown told an innocuous story of how it came to be in his desk and claimed never to have examined the documents. But as the deepest inside workings of the Klan began to be exposed, Brown’s role as one of its leaders came into focus, with indications he even initiated the members. One member recalled that Samuel Brown boasted that his particular cohort of Klansmen could kill and whip more blacks than the rest in York County combined.

When the soldiers burst into the Sherer’s log house, young John Sherer hid under the bed. Merrill’s men left him alone, knowing exactly whom they were hunting. They rounded up William, James, Hugh, and Sylvanus Sherer, all of whom had been on the midnight ride to kill Williams. One of the most important elements behind the success of the raids, Merrill later recalled, was the Klan members’ surprise about how much Merrill’s men already knew about them—which seemed to the Klansmen a remarkable feat given their pride in their extreme secrecy.

Because of the bravery of Merrill’s informants, his men were also prepared for all the signals and codes the Klansmen used to warn each other as the bluecoats descended on them. When “Ambulance!” was shouted, it was a cry of distress and meant another member was nearby. Likewise, three successive sounds of any kind was another way of warning danger to those nearby. Merrill had even drawn on paper the musical notes of the Klan’s warning whistle.

However well-trained and well-versed in Klan secrets, Merrill’s soldiers could not know all the sources of danger around them. Four young members who fled arrest hid out in the hills with Winchester rifles. Garland Smith, who was involved in the shooting murders of at least two black men, aimed his lever-action rifle from his position above, placing a bluecoat in his line of sight, and prepared to shoot, until his companions restrained him.

As the number of arrests grew, astounded townspeople watched the soldiers march their captives through town. Merrill converted a building used for sugar manufacture into a prison and filled it to capacity with approximately three-dozen Klansmen the first day alone and 100 Klansmen after the first few weeks. He and his secretaries were flooded with confessions and testimony to transcribe from the arrestees as well as from hundreds more men who showed up at the door and turned themselves in to avoid soldiers coming for them. More details of the Jim Williams murder, as well as other horrible crimes, began to be filled in, with Dr. Bratton’s role fleshed out by one man after another. One local promised to lead Capt. Hale to one of their major targets. Instead, the man took him around in a circle, and a furious Hale added the trickster to the rapidly growing ranks of incarcerated men.

Hale’s quarry wasn’t the only Klan leader who slipped through Merrill’s fingers. Even as many of the Klan members began to turn against each other, Merrill had his own traitor in his midst. On the eve of the raids, Dick Clinton, his secretary, gave the names of some Klansmen whom Merrill was hunting to jeweler and Klan member Ed McCaffery. A cadre of “night runners” gathered at the county court house and scattered under the cover of darkness to warn the top Klan officers. Combined with a general plan to allow their foot soldiers to take the heat for them, many of the wealthy and high ranking leaders in the Klan—the same men who had held their heads high around Yorkville promising to help suppress the Klan—disappeared from their homes overnight, leaving behind families and businesses. Even with his improvised jail packed wall to wall, the vanishing of these men—including Bratton—enraged Merrill. He dismantled the Klan in a matter of hours, reporting to Washington that the organization was “completely crushed.” One newspaper put it more dramatically, writing that Merrill “held the whole infamous order in York County as if in the hollow of his hand, and he crushed it as easily as a man would an egg-shell.” But Merrill wanted to see the men most responsible for terrorizing this region publicly punished.

Dick Clinton’s motivation blurs with the distance of time. Clinton, whose treachery appears to have earned him a spot as one of the early inmates at the Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, military prison, may have secretly been a Klansman or simply have harbored sympathies, like so many whites in York County. If he was the same Dick Clinton who had served in the 13th Battery, Missouri Light Artillery, of the Confederate Army during the Civil War, he fought against Merrill’s cavalry in Arkansas eight years earlier when Merrill helped the Union Army take Little Rock. The former army private may have held a grudge born in blood that Merrill never even knew about.” - Matthew Pearl, “K Troop: The story of the eradication of the original Ku Klux Klan.” Slate. March 4, 2016.

[robinhoodrevisited]

Running Out Of Time (pt.5)

Kingsbridge Castle. Waleran’s quarters. (Tuck and Allan, dressed in plain brown monk’s robes, open the door and enter the room. Allan gives a questioning look at Tuck.) Tuck: “I’ll know what it is when I see it.” Allan: (Nods.) “Right.” (They split up and start searching the room. Allan picks up a dirty and holey sack-like dress.) Allan: “Ugh. (Allan drops it quickly and something rattles. Tucks goes over to a trunk under the window and starts picking stuff up off the lid. Allan sees a smaller chest, opens it and closes it. He starts to check the things on the table and knocks off a silver plate, which clatters to the floor. Tuck turns to him, glaring. Allan makes an apologetic face and raises a hand, listening to see if they alerted the guards. Tuck opens the trunk.) We need to get a move on, Tuck.” (Slaps Tuck’s shoulder and leaves.) Tuck: “Yeah.” (Tuck wants to follow, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he opens a book and starts to read. Seeing numerous ledger lines and other markings, Tuck closes the book and takes it with him.) Interior corridor. (Tuck and Allan walk briskly down the hall. They see a guard come around a corner.) Tuck: “Wrong way.” (Tuck pulls Allan back the other way, but more guards run in.) Allan: (Shoves Tuck:) “Get the book to Robin!” (Allan faces two guards coming at him, grabs the halberd of a guard and uses it to block the sword of the one next to him, then pushes the first away. He draws his double swords, fends off a guard, steps back to readjust the grip on his swords, then blocks blows coming at him from either side. He ducks under a halberd and a sword as they are swung over his head, then slices into the swordsman. He kicks away a third guard, then deflects and turns away a halberd before shoving his shoulder into the guard. Allan turns to a guard getting to his knees and slams his head into a column. He faces a swordsman, deflects the blade and pushes him aside. Allan ducks to the side to avoid a halberd and retreats several steps to put the wall at his back. He blocks an overhead blow, then catches the man, losing his left sword in the process. He throws the man aside. Allan swings with his remaining sword at a guard, who catches Allan’s arm and throws him aside. Allan regains his balance, deflects a halberd with his sword, twists it away with his free hand, and hits the guard on the head with his sword. Lipscombe appears, catches Allan and punches him in the stomach. He puts his hand under Allan’s chin and pushes his back to the wall. Allan is surrounded.) Lipscombe: “Lock down the castle! Search every room!“

Kingsbridge Guard Outpost. (Marian and Robin wait at the corner of the abbey.) Marian: “No sign of them.” Robin: (Sighs:) “There’s no more time. I have to go in now.” (Tuck comes up behind them.) Tuck: “I’ve got something.” Marian: “Where’s Allan?” Tuck: “Ah. Lipscombe’s guards found us. Allan told me to make a run for it as he held them off.” Robin: “Great. (Noticing the book under Tuck’s arm:) What’s that?” Tuck: “Proof, I hope. It’ll take time to decipher it all though.” Marian: “Time we don’t have. Listen, (Pulling Tuck further into the alley away from prying eyes:) in less than a days time, an army of warriors will lay waste to this city unless we can find the person responsible for ordering the attack on their people.” Tuck: “Tomorrow is St Barnabas’ Day. All the people will be in the abbey.” Robin: “Like lambs to the slaughter. (To Marian:) No doubt the Bishop will be looking to serve our friends up as the main event before the feasting begins.” Marian: “Well at least that gives us some time to think of a rescue plan if nothing else.” Tuck: “Ah, now that I may be able to help you with.” Robin: “No offense, Tuck, but every time we listen to you we lose another member of our gang.” Tuck: “Trust me, this’ll be different. And if my calculations are correct, we may have a chance to accomplish all of your objectives in one go.” Marian: (Frowns:) “What calculations?” Tuck: “I’ll explain on the way, but if I’m right, we have the chance to perform a miracle tomorrow.” (Tuck heads off determinedly as Robin and Marian exchange puzzled looks before following him.)

Dungeons. (Much is chained by the wrists inside the cell, his head down, sniveling.) Gisborne: (Disgusted:) "Please don't tell me you're crying." Much: (Pitifully:) "I'm not. I j-j-just know what happens to h-h-heretics and I d-d-don't want to be burned alive!" Little John: "Much, get a grip. Robin, Marian and Allan are bound to have a plan to rescue us by now." Gisborne: (Chuckles grimly:) "Well at least there's one good thing about being locked up with you lot." Little John: "And what's that?" Gisborne: "Robin's bound to come and rescue you. If it were just me I'd dare say he'd leave me here to rot." Little John: "Yeah, well he'd be right to. Given all the things you've done, all the people you've killed." Gisborne: "If you've got a problem, big man, let's settle it right now." Little John: "Fine by me." Allan: (From outside the cell:) "I leave you lot alone for two minutes and you're already at each others throats." Little John: "Allan!" Gisborne: (Smirks:) "There you are, Much. We've been saved already." Allan: (Winces:) "Actually, fellas, not so much." (The prison guard grabs him by the arm and opens the cell door, shoving Allan through it and closing the door behind him.) Gisborne: "What's this?" Allan: "Got caught trying to find some dirt on the Bishop. (Claps his hands together:) So I guess it's down to Robin and Maz now, eh?" (Little John rolls his eyes and walks over to the dark side of the cell, hiding his face from view.) Gisborne: (Grumbling sarcastically:) "Great."

Nottingham Castle. Sheriff’s quarters. (Isabella stands in front of a mirror with her knife. Henry stands behind her.) Henry: "I'm sorry to have doubted your resolve, Madam Sheriff." Isabella: (Staring at her knife:) "You know it's funny. When I used this knife to kill my husband all those months ago I never truly realised what that moment meant." Henry: (Curious:) "What did it mean?" Isabella: "It was if I'd awoken from a very bad nightmare and in truth I had. For years I cowered and begged for Thornton's mercy. Allowed myself to  be subservient to his needs and desires. When I killed him it was out of fear for my life. No wonder I failed to comprehend the true greatness of that moment. Then, when I killed William Hamleigh, I knew exactly what I was doing. I felt no remorse for my actions because Hamleigh was a scurge that needed to be eliminated. My actions delivered control of your brothers army directly into Vaisey's hands. Once again I had facilitated a man's rise to power and received nothing in return. Finally, after being named sheriff, I betrayed my friends and swore to myself I would never be used by men ever again." Henry: "You have allied yourself with the Prince, you share his bed at night. Surely-" Isabella: "We are using each other, you fool. Prince John may not realise it just yet but I do. He may think of me as his delightful pet project - the first woman Sheriff. But I will not allow this opportunity to slip through my fingers. This is my chance to be the one who gains power and position. (Finally turning to face Henry:) And you're going to help me." Henry: (Raises an eyebrow:) "I am?" Isabella: "Oh yes. (Points the knife at him:) Your brother's army is in need of a new Commander and it just so happens that I am in the market for a militia." Henry: "And where do I factor in to all of this?" Isabella: "You are going to convince Blamire that I am the true Commander he seeks." Henry: (Nods:) "I see. And what's in it for me?" Isabella: (Smiles, backing Henry up towards the bed:) "My undying appreciation." Henry: (Lowering himself onto the bed, smirks:) "Is that all?" Isabella: (Sultrily:) "Oh, we've only just begun." Powis Castle. Infirmary. (Having deemed Indra stable enough to transport, the woman warrior is brought in on a litter to the castle infirmary. As Indra slides herself over onto an empty bed she dismisses her litter bearers. As they exit the room Djaq enters, determined to check on her patient one last time before turning in for the night. Indra eyes her but does not resist as the Saracen leans over to check her wounds.) Indra: "I suppose in the spirit of the Commander's new decree I should thank you." Djaq: (Dryly:) "Or you could thank me because I saved your life. It is customary, I believe." Indra: (Ignores this:) "Your Princess will cause Lexa many problems before all is said and done." Djaq: "Clarke is not my Princess, she is my friend. I have faith she knows what she's doing. It's people like her who will end the cycle of violence, not warriors like you or I." Indra: (Scoffs:) "We are nothing alike." Djaq: "No? Are we not often times the lone women fighting amongst a sea of men?" Indra: "I lead those men." Djaq: (Nods:) "Yes, as did I once." Indra: "You? What kind of men did you lead?" Djaq: "Spies, informants. Men who sought to end war without the use of violence. I joined the cause after my brother was killed. Before that I was training with my uncle to become a healer.” Indra: "I see. And what happened to you and your men?" Djaq: "We were betrayed. Sold as slaves by warlords who were looking to prolong the war just as much as we were working to end it." Indra: (Looks away:) "I'm sorry." Djaq: (Shakes her head:) "The people in my country were not ready for peace. (Getting to her feet:) I just pray the same is not true for yours." (Djaq turns and heads for the door.) Indra: "Saracen. (Djaq stops, sighs and turns back to face her patient:) Thank you." (Djaq stares at Indra a moment then smiles before leaving the room.)

A Hill Overlooking Kingsbridge. Night. (Robin and Tuck sit on a broad rock under the full moon. Tuck is quickly whittling a stick into a sharp point. Robin is going through Tuck’s red book and trying to understand the page with the phases of the moon on it. Tuck gives Robin a moment, then nudges his arm and points at the moon.) Tuck: “What happens to the moon tomorrow happens once in a generation. It’s God’s gift from the stars.” Robin: (Stares at the sky.) “My father used to say that when we die, we become stars. If it’s true, this time tomorrow, we could be lighting up the night sky.“ Tuck: “That’s a glorious thought.” (Robin smiles at the sky.)

Jack & Aliena's Home. (Jack & Aliena are sat up on their bed as Aliena breast feeds their child. Jack kneels behind his wife supporting her weight as she nourishes the baby. There is a pensive look on Aliena's face which Jack notices.) Jack: (Kissing her neck:) "What troubles you, my love?" Aliena: (Smiles ruefully:) "Many things." Jack: (Smiles:) "Well perhaps just tell me about your current worry then?" Aliena: (Sighs:) "It's what Ellen said, about your father. If Waleran wanted your father dead so badly as to burn him at the stake then-" Jack: (Nods, continues her thought:) "The secret he had must’ve been monumental, I know. But Ma has no proof, it would be her word against Waleran's." Aliena: "And who would dare doubt the word of a Bishop?" Jack: "It's a stalemate. My mother has despised Waleran for years but she's not foolish enough to try and seek revenge." Aliena: "No, but what if Waleran decides she's too dangerous a woman to have around any longer? (Looks over her shoulder at him:) What if the Bishop decides that the son of Jacques Cherbourg is also too much of a liability to keep alive." Jack: (Shakes his head:) "Ma knows how to take care of herself. She was tried as a witch years ago. Why else do you think she insists on living in that cave? As for me? I am the master builder of Waleran's cathedral. He needs me and the cathedral is years away from being completed. " Aliena: "Your cathedral may never be completed if what Marian says is true. If Robin doesn't find the person responsible for the attack on Powis then Kingsbridge's fate is sealed." Jack: "I think we can both agree that the only person capable of ordering such an attack would be Waleran. But again, we have no proof." (The baby finishes feeding and Aliena sighs, getting to her feet and placing the child in the cot. There is a light knocking on the door which startles her.) Aliena: (As Jack starts to get up:) "I'll get it. (Aliena moves towards the door, unsure of who could be calling at this hour. Opening the door:) Marian?" Marian: "I'm sorry for the lateness, but we're running out of time and I need your help." (Aliena hesitates for a moment before nodding and stepping aside to allow Marian entry.)

[lightningbuggie]

Honour Among Operatives - Sombra&Baptiste

Hey guys! I haven’t seen many fics exploring the friendship between Sombra and Baptiste, so I thought I’d write one myself! Enjoy :)

She didn’t particularly stand out when he first saw her. Short woman with short hair dyed red and cuts in her eyebrows. The only notable things about her were her Spanish accent and sharp purple eyes. They weren’t ever placed in the same squad on missions, so he had no real reason to speak to her.

He did hear things though. He’d been told that she was an incredible hacker, having run with a gang and taken down a few massive global organizations even before being recruited for Talon. He wondered what Talon was doing with someone that seemed so evil, but he decided to let it slide. She was not someone he ever wanted anything to do with, but as fate would have it, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Talon was infiltrating and collecting information from a small omnic militia group in Central America. Baptiste’s team was placed on the backlines, guarding an exit to the building and making sure that whatever backup the omnic group called couldn’t make it inside. Baptiste was in charge of keeping the Talon agents alive. Sombra and Reaper were at the heart of the mission, hacking and slashing (respectively) their way through to the military computers, wherein she would collect whatever they had asked her to.

It started off smoothly. The omnics had called for backup, but Baptiste’s crew was able to hold them off just fine. That is, until the mechs started coming in. Suddenly the Talon foot soldiers were tasked with fighting machines that towered above them like gods, and the mission began to fall apart. Baptiste heard Reaper tell everyone to evacuate in his earpiece, and the entire group, including him, scattered. Baptiste lost sight of the others within minutes, forcing him to find safety in an abandoned parking lot that was out of the way enough that he felt comfortable taking a moment to breath. Though as he did so, something caught his eye.

A small, purple device, with a ray of light emanating vertically above it, sat in a dark corner of the lot.  He tried to call out to his group in his earpiece, but there was no response - no signal. Baptiste held his gun out in front of him and carefully walked toward the device. It didn’t look like a bomb, but he couldn’t be too careful. When he was within a meter of the metal gadget, the ray of light brightened until it was blinding. Baptiste instinctively dived behind a pillar and braced for impact, but instead of an explosion, he heard a grunt of pain and the slam of a body against concrete. He peered around the pillar and his jaw dropped as he saw Sombra, bleeding, with a leg that was clearly broken, lying on the floor where the device had been. She made eye contact with him and instantly reached for her gun, but kept it holstered when she took in his Talon attire.

“Hey doc, could use a hand here.” She spoke through bloody teeth.

Baptiste walked over to the hacker, pulling out his medical supplies from the pouch on his side.

“Your leg is broken.” He said, while collecting the materials for a tourniquet.

“Is it? You’re really good at your job.” Her sarcasm unrestrained.

“I could just leave you here to die, you know.”

“Haha, alright alright. I’ll be good.” She replied, but the smirk on her face told him that she was anything but.

He got to work cleaning up her wounds. She winced occasionally, but it was clear she was trying to keep herself in check, refraining from showing weakness even to a fellow Talon recruit.

The silence between them was getting uncomfortable, so Baptiste tried his hand at small talk.

“What happened?”

“We weren’t ready for the mechs. There’s more going on here than we thought.” She shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

She evaded his question. “At least it’s done.”

“Mission failed then?”

She laughed at that. Loud enough that Baptiste immediately looked around them to make sure know one heard it, but she didn’t even bother to lower her voice as she continued.

“You think I’d let them mess me up like that and not make sure I got what I needed? No manchez. ” She held up a USB stick and wiggled it in front of him. “Mission successful, doctor.”

“I’m not a doctor.” He said as he finished his makeshift cast on her leg.

She slipped the USB back into her pocket. “Well, you could’ve fooled me.”

Baptiste helped her rise to her feet, letting her lean the majority of her weight on his shoulder. He spilled the rest of his rubbing alcohol on the floor, washing the blood off the concrete and watching it disappear down a drain.

“Jean-Augustine Baptiste. It’s a good name.” She said to no one in particular.

“You know my name?”

“It’s my job to know things, amigo .”

“Talon keeps tight records on everyone, huh?”

“Not anymore than you’d expect. I just like to know who I’m working with.”

“I see.”

“Well Baps, I think it’s safe to say you saved my life. So here’s what I’m gonna do. You ever need a piece of information on someone, something, whatever, let me know. Sound good?”

He didn’t really know how to answer. They made their way back to base.

He started to pay closer attention to her after that. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the intense, painfully serious Talon team. She was fun and lively, and not as villainous as her history had made her out to be. Baptiste hoped to get on good terms with her. He began to sit next to her during meetings or at lunch and strike up a conversation anytime he bumped into her on base.

They became friends fairly quickly. Baptiste wasn't used to military life, and didn't exchange more than a formal greeting to most of his operative colleagues. Sombra was one of the few people he could talk to candidly. She was several ranks above him, seeing as she worked directly alongside some of the heads of Talon and he was merely a foot solider, but she always treated him as if they were equals. And when Baptiste talked to her about medicine, despite all her quips and snark it sometimes felt as if she viewed him as better than herself. She was one of the busier members of Talon, meaning that he didn't get to talk to her often, but when he did, they would chat through the night, ranting about their current missions and sharing gossip about other workers over drinks and pizza. She provided a sense of relief from all the stresses Talon life could offer. And while she never said it, Baptiste could sense a weight lifted off her shoulders the day after their talks as well.

They never dated, though they did once kiss in his hotel room after a week long, excruciatingly boring mission. Baptiste wasn’t sure whose fault it was, as although he had made the stupid, drunken decision to pull her onto his lap, Sombra had made the equally stupid, equally drunken decision to press her lips against his. And while Baptiste would be lying if he said he didn’t think she was pretty, he had never felt more uncomfortable in his life than during their small talk during mission prep the following day. The two of them silently vowed to never do anything like that again, and true to their word, things went back to normal within the week.

Baptiste was actually relieved when a month later, Sombra excitedly told him about her interest in another Talon member, though that fizzled out almost instantly. He fondly remembered her recounting a story from her Los Muertos days, sleeping with a man she had thought was merely a member of the Deadlock gang, but turned out to be Blackwatch as well. She swore up and down that she didn’t know of his Overwatch connection, but Baptiste was skeptical. That was, until he realized something: Sombra didn’t ever lie to him. If she didn’t want to talk about something she would say so, but even her most absurd claims would eventually prove themselves to be accurate. Sometimes she would use coded language, hiding her feelings in the subtext of her words, but Baptiste had long since been able to decipher her. She lied to everyone with ease, but with him she was honest. It was a startling realization of how close the two of them had become, which gave him anxiety but also filled him with a sense of belonging. That night was probably Baptiste’s favourite memory of his time at Talon, though it would also be one of his last.

Leaving Talon wasn’t difficult, he had planned to do so for months, but telling her was terrible. She seemed to already know though, answering him with a look of half disapproval, half understanding. He wasn’t sure which he felt worse about.

“Come with me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He knew the answer before she said it. “I have too much work to do.”

He didn’t tell her when he planned to leave, he didn’t even really know himself. A few missions later, standing watch on a port in Cuba while Talon operatives broke into its shipping facility, he decided it was now or never.

He made quick work of taking out the men around him, a blow to the head with the back of his gun did that well enough. He tied them up and planned his escape, before remembering the issue of surveillance. Baptiste turned to the nearest security camera in a panic, but his breath calmed as he realized it was shut off and pointed at the floor. In fact, all of the cameras in the room were, and their little lights that usually flashed bright red were instead glowing a soft purple. Baptiste stared at the lens in front of him, years of confusing feelings washing over him at once.

“I’ll miss you,” he mouthed to the deactivated camera, wishing for just that moment that it were on so she could see him.

He turned around and walked out - of the mission, of Talon, of everything.

Getting away was surprisingly easy: his fake passport worked when he was worried it wouldn’t, Talon didn’t seem to be able to track him, and work was easy to find back home. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that it was all coincidence.

He did think of her, and every time he passed by a security camera he gave it a little wave, wondering if she was watching. Hoping , is maybe the better word.

It was many years later that he got in contact with her. Or rather she with him. It wasn’t anything sweet or nostalgic. He was scrolling through the news on his phone when the screen flooded with purple light and morphed into her infamous sugar skull. Just as quickly as it came, the insignia disappeared, and his phone returned to its home screen. Only this time with an unsuspecting grey little app nestled in his ‘games’ folder. He clicked on the app and followed its setup directions until finally it presented him with an icon of a corded phone.

It took him two days before he worked up the courage to press the icon. It rang twice before she answered.

“Hey mijo, looking for me?”

Baptiste laughed, “I should've left you in that parking lot.”

It was hard to cope with the fact that she was still Talon, and it was lonely being out in the world without her to talk to after a long week of work. But when the time came that Baptiste needed help tracking down Angela Ziegler, Sombra was the first person he called. It was going to be a tough job, and Baptiste had planned on cashing in that favour he was promised so many years ago. He blurted out the request, and before he could even begin his pitch, he heard Sombra boot up her computer and begin talking out a plan of action. He was so relieved, he completely missed what she was saying.

"Baps?"

"Sorry, yeah?"

"Nothing. I just said thanks for calling."

Baptiste smiled. He knew what that meant, and Sombra never lied to him. "I've missed you too."

[bountyofbeads]

Successor to Slain Iranian General Vows Revenge: Live Updates https://nyti.ms/2QtwqEt

Successor to Slain Iranian General Vows Revenge: Live Updates

“God the almighty has promised to get his revenge,” said the man who will take over for Maj. Gen. Qassim Suleimani, increasing fears of an escalating cycle of retaliation.

By The New York Times Staff | Published January 6, 2020 | New York Times | Posted January 6, 2020 |

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American troops will be limited to training and advising Iraqi forces, but will not be allowed to leave their bases while plans are made for their departure, an Iraqi military spokesman said.

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Teeming crowds chant “Death to America.”

Throngs of people chanting “Death to America” crowded the streets of Tehran on Monday as Iran mourned Maj. Gen. Qassim Suleimani, whose funeral was held in the capital. The military commander was hailed as a martyr, and his successor swore revenge.

“God the almighty has promised to get his revenge, and God is the main avenger,” vowed Esmail Ghaani, the Iranian general who will take over the Quds Force, the foreign expeditionary arm of Iran’s elite paramilitary organization, the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. “Certainly actions will be taken,” he added.

State-run news outlets reported that millions had gathered in Tehran, and images showed of a sea of mourners, many wearing black and waving the nation’s flag in an outpouring of grief.

General Suleimani was killed by the United States on Friday in Baghdad in a drone strike. American officials said the general had ordered assaults on Americans in Iraq and Syria and was planning a wave of imminent attacks.

His killing has set off fears of escalating retaliatory actions by Iran and the United States, and of a broader regional conflict. In the aftermath of the attack, Iran said it would no longer abide by a 2015 agreement to suspend uranium production.

Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran’s supreme leader, wept openly at the funeral while offering prayers over the general’s coffin. Ayatollah Khamenei had a close relationship with the general, who was widely considered to be the second most powerful man in Iran.

General Suleimani’s daughter, Zeinab Suleimani, said in a eulogy that the United States and Israel faced a “dark day.”

“You crazy Trump, the symbol of ignorance, the slave of Zionists, don’t think that the killing of my father will finish everything,” she said at the funeral.

The general’s funeral was attended by a broad swath of Iranians, including reformers who oppose the government of President Hassan Rouhani but who perceived the killing as an attack on all of Iran.

“I felt like he was our safety umbrella spread above Iran,” said Amir Ali, 22, a university student. “I felt safe knowing he was out there.”

Iraq recalibrates after vote to expel American troops.

The Iraqi government has begun to consider new parameters for the American military in Iraq after lawmakers voted 170-0 on Sunday in favor of expelling United States troops from their country.

The troops will be limited to “training and advising” Iraqi forces, but will not be allowed to move off their bases or to fly in Iraqi airspace while plans are being made for their departure, said Brig. Gen. Abdul Karim Khalaf, the military spokesman for Prime Minister Adel Abdul Mahdi.

The vote on Sunday was not final and many lawmakers did not attend the session. But Mr. Mahdi drafted the language and submitted the bill to Parliament, leaving little doubt about his support for the expulsion.

The drone strike that killed Maj. Gen. Qassim Suleimani on Friday also killed Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, the deputy head of the Popular Mobilization Forces, a coalition of Iranian-backed militias in Iraq.

The attack was viewed by many in Iraq as a violation of the nation’s sovereignty, and the Foreign Ministry said on Sunday that it had summoned the American ambassador. Iran reacted to Sunday’s vote with congratulatory messages.

But the Iraqi Parliament was divided over the demands from angry citizens to expel American troops. Nearly half of its members, primarily Kurds and Sunnis, did not attend Sunday’s session and did not vote. In his speech to lawmakers, Mr. Mahdi laid out two possibilities: to either quickly end the presence of foreign forces in Iraq, or to set a timeline for their expulsion.

The measure approved by Parliament did not include a timeline, and only instructed the government to end the presence of foreign forces in Iraq. Officials said no decision had been made about whether any American troops would be able to stay, or under what conditions.

By Monday, there was still no timetable for the troops’ departure and no specifics about whether all American forces would be asked to leave or only some. And while Mr. Mahdi’s rhetoric was tough in his speech to the Iraqi Parliament on Sunday, by late in the evening, after speaking with President Emmanuel Macron of France by phone, his language was more modulated.

In a post on Twitter describing their phone call, Mr. Mahdi suggested that he was leaving the door open to something less than a complete departure.

He said he had agreed with Mr. Macron to “continue to discuss this delicate issue.”

He added that they talked about “the withdrawal of the foreign forces from Iraq in a way that would not damage the battle against ISIS and would preserve the sovereignty of Iraq and keep its relationships with the countries of the international coalition” that is fighting the Islamic State in Iraq.

Those goals would be difficult to achieve without some continued presence by the United States, because other countries’ troops are unlikely to stay in the absence of American military support.

Trump doubles down on threat to attack Iran’s cultural sites.

President Trump on Sunday doubled down on his threats to attack Iranian cultural sites and warned of a “major retaliation” if the Iranian government planned tit-for-tat attacks in the aftermath of the killing of a senior military commander.

Mr. Trump defended the drone strike that killed General Suleimani.

Earlier on Sunday, Mr. Trump said in a tweet that the United States had selected 52 Iranian sites, some “at a very high level & important to Iran & the Iranian culture” to attack in the event of Iranian retaliation.

That prompted the Iranian foreign minister, Mohammad Javad Zarif, to say that “targeting cultural sites is a war crime.”

But on Sunday evening, aboard Air Force One on his way back from his holiday trip to Florida, Mr. Trump did not back down.

“They’re allowed to kill our people,” he said to reporters. “They’re allowed to torture and maim our people. They’re allowed to use roadside bombs and blow up our people. And we’re not allowed to touch their cultural site? It doesn’t work that way.”

Iran pledges to restart uranium enrichment.

The Iranian government said it would no longer abide by a commitment it made under a 2015 nuclear deal that limited its enrichment of uranium.

The decision to lift all restrictions on the production of nuclear fuel spelled the effective end of the nuclear deal, experts said, though Iran left open the possibility that it would return to the limits if sanctions were lifted.

“It’s finished. If there’s no limitation on production, then there is no deal,” said David Albright, president of the Institute for Science and International Security, a nonprofit in Washington.

The announcement came after the Iranian Supreme National Security Council held an emergency meeting on Sunday after General Suleimani’s assassination.

“The Islamic Republic of Iran will end its final limitations in the nuclear deal, meaning the limitation in the number of centrifuges,” the government said in a statement. “Therefore Iran’s nuclear program will have no limitations in production including enrichment capacity and percentage and number of enriched uranium and research and expansion.”

The announcement followed several steps by Iran to move away from the terms of the agreement, nearly two years after Mr. Trump withdrew the United States from the deal. Since that renunciation, the Trump administration has imposed severe sanctions aimed at crippling Iran’s economy.

The nuclear agreement ended some economic sanctions on Iran in return for its verifiable pledge to use nuclear power peacefully.

Iran’s statement on Sunday did not include details about its enrichment ambitions. And the country did not say that it was expelling the inspectors who monitor its nuclear program.

The European parties to the deal, including Britain, France and Germany, as well as China and Russia, also signatories to the deal, had struggled to preserve the agreement as tensions between the United States and Iran worsened.

Geng Shuang, a spokesman for the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, said at a daily news briefing that there was still hope for the nuclear deal. He noted that Tehran had said it would continue to cooperate with the International Atomic Energy Agency, which monitors Iranian activities under the agreement, and that it could return to the pact under the right conditions.

“We believe that although Iran has been compelled to reduce adherence owing to external factors, it has also demonstrated restraint,” Mr. Geng said.

Europe scrambles to preserve the nuclear deal.

In a joint statement on Sunday night, Britain, France and Germany called on Iran to refrain from violence and to return to “full compliance with its commitments” under the 2015 nuclear agreement, which Tehran has seemed to all but have abandoned.

The statement followed Iran’s announcement that day that it would no longer abide by the limits to uranium enrichment set out in the deal, a move that seemed to finally kill off the agreement after months during which Tehran had carefully breached less significant limits.

President Trump withdrew the United States from the nuclear deal in 2018.

The European statement seemed somewhat forlorn, since its efforts to preserve the deal have been weak, hamstrung in part by a desire to maintain good relations with Washington. The statement did not support the drone strike on the Iranian general but did acknowledge American concerns, saying that, “we have condemned the recent attacks’’ on coalition forces in Iraq and “are gravely concerned by the negative role played by Iran in the region.’’

The statement called for “de-escalation” of tensions from all parties and reaffirmed the Europeans’ determination “to continuing the fight against Islamic State, which remains a priority.’’ And it called on Iraq “to continue to supply the necessary support to the coalition’’ — in other words, to not expel American and NATO troops.

The secretary general of NATO, Jens Stoltenberg, called an emergency meeting of the alliance’s advisers on Monday afternoon.

Josep Borrell Fontelles, the European Union foreign policy chief, posted on Twitter that while the bloc regretted Iran’s announcement on the deal, it would wait for independent verification from the international nuclear monitoring group to determine what actions would be taken.

Peter Stano, his spokesman, said during a news briefing in Brussels said that de-escalation was the goal.

“It’s in our interest as Europeans to maintain this agreement,” Mr. Stano said.

On Monday, Heiko Maas, the German foreign minister, said that the Europeans would talk to Iran and planned to come up with a coordinated response.

“This could be the first step toward the end of this agreement, which would be a great loss,” Mr. Maas told a German radio station. “And so we will weigh things up very, very responsibly.”

Mr. Maas will travel with Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany to Moscow on Jan. 11 to hold talks with President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia on the situation in Iran and Iraq, Ms. Merkel’s office said.

Oil prices surge to nearly $70 a barrel.

Oil prices surged and stock markets in Asia fell on Monday morning, as the impact of General Suleimani’s death ricocheted around the world.

The price of Brent oil, the international benchmark, jumped above $70 in futures trading as markets digested a steady flow of news over the weekend. It fell back below that level, to $69.92 a barrel, when markets opened in Europe, though the price was still about 5 percent higher than before the killing last week.

The sudden escalation in tensions in a region that supplies much of the world’s petroleum has roiled oil markets. The West Texas Intermediate, the American oil benchmark, rose 1.9 percent to $64.22 a barrel in futures trading.

Analysts at Capital Economics have warned that the price of oil could spike to $150 a barrel if the bellicose rhetoric between the two countries turned into action.

“The price of oil would soar in the event of full-blown military conflict in the Middle East,” said Alexander Kozul-Wright, a commodities economist at Capital Economics.

Johnson faces first foreign policy crisis of post-Brexit era.

Prime Minister Boris Johnson of Britain, fresh from winning a mandate to take Britain out of the European Union, faces a particularly vexing challenge in dealing with the escalation between the United States and Iran.

In the first foreign policy crisis of the post-Brexit era, London is caught between its traditional alliance with Washington — one that Mr. Johnson wants to deepen further with a trade agreement — and the new relationship with Europe.

In his first statement on President Trump’s decision to strike the general, Mr. Johnson took pains to emphasize the threat posed by the Iranian military leader and said, “We will not lament his death.” But Mr. Johnson also called on all sides to avoid aggravating the situation, echoing the language used by the French and German governments.

Mr. Johnson suggested he wanted to play a mediating role and noted that he had spoken to Mr. Trump, as well as to President Emmanuel Macron of France and to Chancellor Angela Merkel of Germany. The European governments have been more circumspect in their reactions to the American strike, with the Germans criticizing Mr. Trump’s threat to impose sanctions on Iraq if Baghdad were to expel American troops from bases in the country.

Mr. Johnson was said to be upset that Mr. Trump had not notified him of the strike in advance, but he can ill afford a falling out with the president, given Britain’s need to initiate trade talks with Washington.

China condemns the U.S. over Suleimani’s death.

Chinese state-controlled news media on Monday condemned the United States for the killing of General Suleimani, amplifying China’s foreign minister, Wang Yi, who warned of a “vicious cycle of confrontation” between the United States and Iran.

“Solving the conflicts between the United States and Iran can’t be achieved through military strikes or extreme pressure,” People’s Daily, the Communist Party mouthpiece, said in an editorial. The editorial appeared under the pen name “Zhong Sheng,” which is widely used to offer the paper’s views on foreign affairs.

The editorial likened the latest crisis to the United States-led occupation of Iraq in 2003 and Western intervention in Libya in 2011.

“The facts prove time and again that unilateral resorts to armed force will not solve problems,” the paper said. “Instead the outcome will be the opposite, leading to a cycle of confrontation that will be difficult to clean up.”

China has been reducing its imports of oil from Iran as United States sanctions have deepened, but it remains heavily dependent on crude from the Middle East, especially from Saudi Arabia. Beijing has also tried to shore up the international agreement that curtailed Iran’s nuclear development.

On Sunday, the Chinese embassy in Washington warned Chinese citizens to be extra careful about their safety in the wake of the crisis with Iran.

Fears of worldwide conflict were shared across social media over the weekend, but Xinhua, China’s main official news agency, published a commentary saying that outright war between the United States and Iran still seemed unlikely.

“Faced with the 2020 election, Trump has deliberately used attacking Iran to shift the focus from domestic tensions and add to his electoral chips,” read the commentary, “but he has no intention of launching a war.”

Evacuations planned and alerts raised for foreigners in Iraq.

President Rodrigo Duterte of the Philippines on Monday held an emergency meeting with defense officials to discuss a potential evacuation plan for the thousands of Filipino workers stationed in Iran and Iraq. The Philippines has a huge population of expatriate laborers who live and work in the region.

“President Duterte ordered the Armed Forces of the Philippines to be prepared to deploy military assets to repatriate overseas Filipinos in the Middle East, particularly from Iran and Iraq, at any moment’s notice,” said Senator Christopher Lawrence Go, a close ally of Mr. Duterte who was at the meeting, according to The Associated Press.

On Monday, New Zealand became the latest country to advise its citizens to leave Iraq, but officials denied reports that it had decided to withdraw troops stationed there as part of a training mission. The training mission was said to have been postponed as tensions in the region soared.

“New Zealanders currently in Iraq despite our advice who have concerns for their safety are strongly advised to depart as soon as possible,” the New Zealand Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade said.

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Reporting was contributed by Alissa J. Rubin, Russell Goldman, Alexandra Stevenson, Farnaz Fassihi, Christopher Buckley, Ben Hubbard, Megan Specia, Steven Erlanger, Melissa Eddy, Mark Landler, Thomas Gibbons-Neff, Eric Schmitt, Vivian Yee, David D. Kirkpatrick, and Edward Wong.