#grenades in his briefcase

[proxythe]

pats jin on the head. i love how you draw him!!

thank u !!! <3 love to draw a guy who is drowning in his clothes

[paperpocalypse]

case 254.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 1. There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader Word Count: 1,591 words Warnings: Swearing, violence

You are, by all accounts, married to your work.

And you are a loyal lover. The briefcase is your certificate, the bullets your vows. You keep them close wherever you go. Twenty-four years in the Commission is nothing to sneeze at, and you have never – not once – been unfaithful.

… Not in action, at least. Recent thoughts of retirement have begun tempting you to the point of an emotional affair.

(You’d get married, maybe. To a person, not a job. Live in a one-story home with a pond in the backyard and not too far from the nearest Walmart, adopt a little dog that you and your spouse spoil to bits. You’d die peacefully in your sleep instead of bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere.)

“Shit.”

Coughing, you spit and wipe your mouth with the cuff of your sleeve. Damn Arnie made you bite your own tongue.

“The police will be here any minute!” he yells through the walls, and something clatters to the ground. “You can’t make me go back!”

“I’m not making you go back, Arn,” you call back, exasperated. “I got an order to kill you.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

You chuckle and stumble back to your feet.

Arnold had been a loyal employee of the Temps Commission for twenty years. He specializes in 18th century weaponry, his kill count is in the hundreds, and he relies on cigarettes in the same way you rely on coffee. He is also a friend of yours – or the closest thing a Temps assassin can have to a friend – and that’s probably why the Board sent you to kill him.

They had given you two days. You had promised one.

It’s been three.

“You shouldn’t have tried to sell your briefcase to the military, Arnie!”

Arnie doesn’t reply. The squeal and slam of a door grates on your ears, and you swear aloud, rushing to the bathroom.

You break the door open and don’t hesitate to fire in quick succession, just barely missing a shoe slipping from the windowsill.

Clicking your tongue, you pause.

“Dammit.”

Something small and cylindrical is lobbed through the window, bouncing and rolling to a stop at your feet.

“Dammit!”

You book it out of the bathroom, rounding a corner and diving to the ground just as the grenade explodes. The floor shivers. You cover your ears and hold your breath.

If people had ignored the ruckus beforehand, they certainly can’t now.

Panting, you scrape yourself off the floor, reaching back to pull your Glock out and heading back to the bathroom. “Son of a bitch …”

Smoke and burst pipes and rubble are all that remains of the bathroom. Your heart drops to your stomach when you recognize the guts of your Commission briefcase among the rubble. This has got to be the second-worst fumble of your career; you should’ve thrown the briefcase out first and then run out. Your rifle is a lost cause too.

Shaking your head, you approach the gaping hole in the wall and slowly clamber down the side of the building. Arnold couldn’t have gotten far, not with a concussion and the bullet in his leg. Thank goodness. You don’t have as much stamina for high-speed chases as you used to.

The same moment that you land on a patch of broken bricks and dirt, the sound of a gunshot resonates behind you.

You immediately whip around, firing a shot into Case 254’s head before you can even register that his back had been facing you.

Arnold collapses, dead, onto the ground a few meters away from you. Your lips part. You quickly look back up and keep your gun poised.

A man points his rifle back at you.

“Got him before you did,” he tells you, voice low and gruff.

There’s a briefcase at his feet.

“Did the Board think I couldn’t handle this one?” you ask, aiming between the man’s eyes. You like the way he speaks, even though it pisses you off. He’s confident. “Or do they think I defected too?”

“Did you?” he challenges.

Not in ways they can punish. “If I did, Arnie wouldn’t have tried to blow me up with an MK3.”

“… Humph.”

Sirens are getting ever louder. The two of you lower your weapons; you’re no longer wary of this fellow assassin, but the glare he’s fixing you with makes you want to rile him up.

“Tell me your name, hotshot,” you say, walking over to Arnold and rummaging through his clothes.

He grunts sourly. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“To make conversation.” You find some loose change and a coupon for a tanning salon – alright – but what you’re really interested in is the copy of the briefcase’s blueprints. You pocket everything. “It stimulates the mind. I think you might need that in your old age.”

When you face the man fully again, he rolls his eyes.

Then he literally disappears into thin air.

You blink. The dots connect as quickly as the flaring lights of police cars shine around the corners of the building, and a frenzied laugh escapes your lips.

“What a gentleman.”

Guess the rumors were right – the Commission’s new darling, Five, is a genius as well as an asshole.

On the other side of the apartment complex, the detective tells officers to surround the building. You quickly put your gun away and take off before they reach the back.

“I heard someone running! Over here!”

You run until you reach a chain-link fence, locating a spot where the mesh had peeled away from the post and slipping through with gritted teeth. The air inside your mask weighs on your skin, hot and thick from your heavy breathing. Your feet already hurt. You should’ve invested in those gel insoles Arnold told you about before he decided to defect.

“Stop! This is the police!”

You hold back a groan. You’re getting too old for this shit.

But you keep going anyways. You keep running, turn a corner and cut through back alleys, knock out the few people you pass who are unlucky enough to be out at two in the morning. And for some reason, they keep pursuing you, getting closer and closer –

You hear something like a muffled pop of air. A hand grips your arm and drags you into an alley.

You scramble for your Glock, but as soon as your fingers brush its handle, it disappears. Five pushes you down behind a dumpster and shoves a hand up your mask to cover your mouth. It takes everything in you to keep from gagging when you land on a trash bag way too wet-sounding for your liking.

“Quiet.”

You huff, tearing his hand away. Your arm is pinned against his sternum, your head much too close to his. His breathing is quiet, measured, and slow.

(He’s used to this. Used to running, used to hiding, just like you.)

Five runs warm. You like it in the same way that you like the way he speaks.

Footsteps hurry past your hiding place, then fade into the distance.

After waiting about ten more minutes, you let your head knock back against the wall. “Shit.” You chuckle. “I owe you one, Mr. Five.”

Five doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude. Instead, he pushes himself away from you and drops your Glock into your lap, then grabs his briefcase and stands up. Though you resent the loss of heat, you join him with a more appropriate amount of space between the two of you.

“I’ll take you back to headquarters,” Five states, sounding as if his teeth are about to be pulled.

“Thank you kindly,” you reply. “It must be my lucky day, getting my hide saved and escorted by the Commission’s rising star.”

“I’m sure.” His tone is dry.

Sirens wail as you tell him your name.

“I know,” Five mutters, unclipping the briefcase. “You were mentioned in the kill order for your pal back there.”

Ah. You nod, smiling a bit tightly, and put your hands on the briefcase as well. “Of course.”

A flash, and you’re both back in 1955, the sun too bright and the air too stale. You feel the beginnings of a headache.

“Still hate time travel after twenty plus years,” you comment, letting go. “Did using your powers have the same effect?”

Five regards you silently, lips pursed. “Hard to recall,” he finally says, snapping the briefcase shut.

“The lab’s developing some meds for the side effects. Apparently, they’re doing trial runs soon.”

“That so.”

“Yes.” You squint up at HQ, brush off your suit, and exhale loudly. “Anyway, I better get going. See you later, Mr. Five.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Just Five is fine.”

“See you later, Five,” you emphasize with a grin. “Maybe we’ll be able to team up in the future.”

All he does is cast you an unimpressed glance before disappearing through one of his teleportation portal things.

You stare at the now empty space and sigh, putting your hands on your hips. Well, the apocalypse doesn’t exactly make one a good conversationalist. (Either that, or he finds you insufferable.)

As you stroll into the Commission building to turn in the briefcase blueprint and procure another briefcase, you think of your life so far. You think of your marriage to your work, of the sleepless honeymoon stage and the bitter taste of the past ten years. You think of that dark alley, of that moment of companionship, one-sided though it was.

And maybe you find yourself just a little more unfaithful.

[darkk-academic]

Chaos

[Part I] [Part II]

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : You, Five and an escape.

Warning : Arson. [If you squint]

Everything is in chaos.

You stifle a giggle.

Everything is in chaos because of you.

It started with Five Hargreeves coming back to the commission.

Walking along with the Handler was a boy, that was until she introduced him as the no. 1 assassin.

Your reaction was to burst out laughing. Everyone was silent but you, you laughed.

See, when in the very beginning Five started working for the commission, you were assigned as his partner just for the first few missions.

Just so your efficiency was on top, you had a slightly different body— not quite adult but not teenager, hanging in between. He always derived cruel amusement out of it.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

So yeah, you'd laughed and left him with a clenched jaw.

And that was that.

Until, you found him poking his nose where he shouldn't have been. Or, well, the handler wouldn't have wanted that. You had no qualms helping him, you told him as much.

He asked why you wanted to help him, this was your job after all.

Simply put, the commission was dumb to employ you in the first place. It was literally inviting a lion to feast. Over the years, you completed the assignments, took all the shit with no opposition. The handler thought she won. Tamed you.

But see, now, you have an un-aging body. Knowledge of stocks throughout the years. Hideouts in different places in different time periods. Stash of briefcases that you tinkered with for safety.

So, who really won?

All while everyone—including Five—thought you were just a crazy person.

Which, fair, you are. But you are smart too.

Five just so happened to come at a very convenient time. He didn't need to know all that, though. So you replied with—

"Supply of fucks has depleted."

He hadn't said yes. But, he hadn't said no, either.

Long story short, whilst everyone had lunch, you sneaked some petrol out of your room—saved for this day especially—and drizzled it all around. Dancing and humming as you went around the place.

Although you hadn't a clue that Five would end up throwing a grenade at the handler. Nor did he, that it would end up lighting up the whole building.

Which brings you back to—

"EVERYTHING IS IN CHAOS!" You yell. Giggling hysterically as you run down. You didn't plan to light the place until after you got near your escape, but not all plans work.

"What the hell!?"

It's Five.

"Oh, hey," you say. Leaning against the wall. "Mind giving me a lift?"

This earns you an incredulous look. "Did you—"

"Do this? Yes, yes. Now, can you please give me a lift. My escape is on the other side of the building, my room, so." You shrug.

He will help you. Even though he wouldn't say it out loud, you are the closest thing he has to a friend. He even offered you an escape, before he went to Dallas.

He sighs in submission. You smother the smile that threatens to split your face.

"Stop smiling," he grumbles.

Oh, so you are already smiling.

He extends his hand. You gladly accept.

And in a blink you're in your room. Well, ex-room, can room be ex?

"Where will you go?" He questions. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he peers down at you.

"I have a plan."

"Do you?"

"No." You snort. "Kinda? I dunno?"

He rolls his eyes but opts to keep quiet.

You take the briefcase out from the hollow wall.

And just as you're about to leave. He stops you with a—

"Why did you do it?"

You tilt your head in question.

"The fire. I thought you were happy with the job."

"What? No! This was all part of a plan."

"Was it?"

"No."

It all happened with the flow. You just went along with it.

He huffs out a little laugh. "Then why?"

"The thing about chaos is— it's fair, and it's fun!" You say. Throwing back your head and laughing— for dramatic effect.

Five looks unamused.

Oh, well.

"See you later—"

He tugs at your hand, drawing you closer, leaning down he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Take care," he whispers. Looking into your eyes.

There's a lot being said here. A lot left unsaid, too. But see, the thing with you and Five is, ironically, you both never have time. So, whatever it is that is always cooking between the two of you, is always left raw.

It seems it'll stay that way.

You squeeze his hand. Walking back towards the briefcase.

You turn around, sending him a wink and a flying kiss.

You leave.

But, the chaos of you stays behind— thundering along with Five's heartbeat.

Or maybe not, who knows?

For now, everything is in chaos, Five too.

..................................................................................

A/N :

"The thing about chaos is, it's fair!"

This dialogue, by the Joker. It's the only reason I wrote this, pls 😭 So it may seem a bit *gestures vaguely* and it's not edited, sorry about that.

Anyways, I am thinking about making a taglist, so if you guys want to be added let me know.

Hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

[rocketboots564]

I decided to write more of my first time reactions and thoughts to rvb Season 9!

This should (hopefully) be the third and final part for season 9.

Season 9 part 3:

Imagine showing up to your funeral, and they don’t even give you a respectable eulogy… They just talk shit about how you talked a lot…

Yeah I would kill all of them… Simmons is 10 times the man I’ll ever be.

Oh so Maine straight up stole the grenade launcher! Kinda like he did with AI units… history is a full circle once again

You know… I feel like the director should’ve given them equipment just in case the sarcophagus thing was heavy. Which it is. The Director is a really bad boss

Understatement of the century I know

Washington I’m 80% sure half the things you freelancers do is improvise… and honestly I’d be sick of it too

Oh yeah Carolina let’s just fucking kick out friends off of a SEVERAL STORIES TALL BUILDING. You’re lucky you have that armor.

The freelancers do heists the same way I played Payday 2: Five minutes of stealth before going “nah fuck this” and blasting the brains of some poor shmuck all over the walls

I think you SHOULD feel bad for the people down there, you tossed MAINE at them Carolina.

You chose to use the flamethrower… inside a building… no wonder the freelancers kick your guy’s asses on the reg… yall are fucking idiots

DONT YOU DISRESPECT THAT GUN IT SAVED OUR ASS IN REACH. Bouncy gun is fun

“That bit with the purple plane? That was just showing off,” well when your number one in Freelancer ranked mode you might as well act like it Wash

You know Carolina kinda acts like Tex a bit. No wonder they’re at odds. There’s only room for one dommy mommy bisexual badass in this show

Oh it’s not a bomb… it’s worse… it’s a big ass fucking lazer

AHSBBFMSM THE JPEG EXPLOSION is KILING ME

Yeah Carolina I bet it is karma… deserved Karma

NOT THE XYLOPHONE!

CAROLINA HITTING THE FUCKING Sonic Adventure 2 CITY ESCAPE “talk about low budget flights. No food or movies? I’m outta here!” ON THE SARCOPHAGUS

I’m surprised Project Freelancer wasn’t investigated and shut down earlier with how much property damage and civilians they endanger.

Tex being responsible about the about the team is a nice change of pace–oh she was paid…. makes sense.

Simmons can play the Banjo? When’s his new single dropping?

Grif be supportive of your Brofriend (Bro + Boyfriend = Brofriend)

Wow… imagine your best friend being closer with your ex/not-ex girlfriend than you.

Couldn’t be me Church… mainly cause I’m gay and don’t have a girlfriend

Sarge, the planet is quite literally breaking apart, and your plan is to blow it up… honestly I’m not even surprised.

It’s actually astounding how absolutely this heist went to shit… and quickly too.

“We had to learn to care for our equipment” Tex says. Cut to five minutes ago where she drove a motorcycle through a glass wall.

HOLY SHIT MAINE CAN TAKE SOME DAMAGE! I mean I know they’re wearing Spartan armor and all, but JEEZE.

I love how even the freelancers almost (emphasis on almost) fumble their stuff like the red and blue teams.

Like when Carolina juggles the briefcase in the air before getting a hold of it, and then immediately getting kicked back.

Damn… more Carolina and Tex beef.

How much do I wanna bet Grif’s plan is gonna backfire hilariously?

Yes it backfired horribly… because now Andy exists… again

Oh hey Delta was born! Great! Which means Alpha/Church was just tortured to the point that his mind split…. Not great…

“We’re the good guys? Right?” Oh… you’re concerned you’re not? What clued you in, the insane property damage, murder, or endangered civilians?

“I forget you…” AAAHHH WHAT THE FUCK THAT IS SO SAD YET SO GOOD.

And they brought him back… that’s actually really fucking funny.

THEYRE GONNA KILL THE DIRECTOR?! AWWW YES THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS IT COMING.

Conclusion: YES I CANT WAIT TO WATCH SEASON 10

[turtlesocksv2]

Kinnporsche Rewatch 7 thoughts

the opening casino shit of this episode just makes me want a proper Heist Episode. The drag queen who catches the grenade can come too.

Vegas has a little torture briefcase kit and a torture raincoat. what a fucking nerd. I know we've all said it a million times, but when Vegas is torturing the guy for information, Porsche has his back completely turned he can't watch at all. Arm and Big are both flinching and looking away, they can only watch in short bursts. but Pete the freak (affectionate) doesn't look away once. that's how you know he and vegas are made for each other.

The minor family compound is some early Fast and the Furious Bad Guy level shit and i love it. Vegas is trying soooo hard to impress Porsche. he even has Macau bring out the motorcycle.

Kim is like, not subtle at all and just runs circles around Chay. It's honestly hard to watch. But Chay is too invested in his Wattpad Fantasy to realize it. Kim being reluctantly charmed by the stalker idol wall is so funny. Weirdo 4 Weirdo ass children.

Kinn trusting Pete to search for the info the mole might have sent Vegas, trusting Pete to watch Porsche's back...i'm just saying. The OT4 has evidence on all sides of the square.

Kinn giving Porsche his lucky gun is such a huge deal, he's trying so hard! He just wants Porsche to come back to him and be safe. You know he fantasizes about running away to a beach somewhere so that Porsche can open his little dream bar and they can be together without all the bullshit of their lives.

Oooh, i just noticed that Vegas is wearing a ring on his pointer finger when he shake's Don's hand. that's totally for when he sees Tawan.

"just like you trusted that i'd duck in time" Porsche's reaction is so funny he absolutely gave zero thoughts or fucks about Vegas ducking.

Love that Kinn can just storm into the minor family compound and throw his weight around and punch vegas in the face and vegas can't do shit about it. pathetic, impotent jealousy. love that for them.

[ackarcue]

You know, technically speaking, isn’t Milligan an ideal Batman of sorts?

Hear me out.

Both are against killing, obviously for different reasons but their traumas were severe nonetheless.

Batman, more true in the video games, tends to be a bit, yikes. “Yeah I won’t kill you, but be prepared to eat through a straw afterwards. If you survive the fall, that is.”

Milligan fights the same suited fellows that essentially want him deleted and yet all he brings is a tranquilizer gun. Meanwhile Bats has crazy gadgets for his reasonably crazier villains… and their street level henchmen they got from Craig’s Wanted List.

Even when Milligan gets his hands on a briefcase or laser pointer, it’s aimed towards utility or advantage rather than harm. Respectively the briefcase is meant to even himself against McCracken and the laser pointer is used to free himself.

Don’t get me wrong, Milligan can cause damage, such as McCracken’s teeth or the ukulele to, I think, Garrote’s dome. But they still breathing and can at least walk in a straight line afterwards. Batman got the grenades and shock hands.

[sluts-assembled]

MHA Bakugou One Shot

I originally wrote this story on Wattpad, but I also wanted to post it here.

—————————————————————————

You were caught robbing a bank with several other people, but they had gotten away, and you truly didn’t know where they went. You told the two policemen with all honesty, so they sighed and talked with one another outside.

———

The two cops came back in after a while and put a thin, gray folder down in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as they open it and lay a consent form down on the table.

“What exactly is this for?” Apprehension laces your voice as you don’t know what they are up to.

“Look, we have a warning system. First time offenders are given corporal punishment to deter them from committing another crime. If you decide to take the warning, then you walk out of here free afterwards. If you decide not to, then off to jail you go. If you take the punishment and then commit a second crime after, then off to jail you go,” the red headed cop tells you bluntly.

“Corporal punishment? Are you telling me you’re going to spank me if I take this warning deal?”

“Yes, you can choose a spanking or jail time. Which would you like?”

You scoff at him as if he’s asking whether you’d like vanilla or chocolate ice cream.

The quieter cop chimes in. “Look, we only offer this deal because it has helped the crime rate go down while giving people a second chance. We all know jail ruins lives. You have to make your choice now, though. What’s it gonna be?”

Now, here you are, conflicted over the idea presented in front of you. You would have to swallow a lot of pride to take their offer, but is that something you could do? You didn’t want to go to jail, but you didn’t want to seem weak in the face of these cops. You have always hated authority ever since you were young. As you sit there, contemplating your fate, you finally look up at them. “I’ll take the warning.”

The quieter cop hands you a pen to sign the consent form. He directs you on where to sign. One of the terms that catches your eye is that it will not be a cop or detective that will administer your corporal punishment, it will be a pro hero.

After signing the damn thing, the red headed cop tucks the consent form into the folder and walks out with the quieter one.

Again, you’re left alone to think in the questioning room until a blonde with red eyes walks in. Your immediate reaction is that you’ve seen him before on tv. Dynamight. He doesn’t have his entire hero costume on. You realize his hand grenades are missing as well as the piece on the back of his head. Other than that, the rest of his costume is still in place.

He saunters in while removing his gloves. You can’t help but notice the smirk ghosting his lips. “Looks like they caught a brat tonight. It’s a good thing I volunteered for this. Gotta keep the crime rates down and thugs like you in their place.” He puts his gloves on the table.

A shiver runs down your spine. You can’t take your eyes off of him even though you want to look anywhere else.

“Alright, let’s get this out of the way.” He sits down in a chair. “My name is Bakugo, but you might know me as Dynamight. I’m in charge of your punishment, so I expect full cooperation. If you don’t, I’ll make things worse for you, so it’s your choice.”

Eyes wide, mouth parched, you don’t know how to respond. “What do you mean by ‘make things worse’?”

Bakugo presses a button on the table and speaks. “Bring in the case.”

Suddenly, a door opens, and the red headed cop walks in with a briefcase. “Already at this stage, hu?”

“Not quite. Just showing this little brat what will happen if she doesn’t listen.”

The cop sets the case down in front of Bakugo and leaves the room.

Bakugo opens it. He takes out a wooden hairbrush and a belt, laying them flat in front of you. “I’m already using the brush on you tonight, but if you don’t cooperate, you’ll get the belt too. Understood?”

This can’t be happening.

You nod your head.

“Good,” he says. “Stand up and take off your jeans.”

“WHAT?! I am not doing that. You can go-”

Bakugo picks up the belt threateningly. “I would reconsider your words if I were you.”

You decide it’s best not to finish that particular sentence. “Right. Sorry. This is just…new to me. I don’t feel comfortable undressing in front of you.”

“But you felt comfortable stealing other people’s money, right? You did the crime, now pay up.” He puts the belt down and gestures for you to get moving.

You didn’t mean to whine. You never whine, but you couldn’t help the small noise that came out of your mouth as your feet started moving. Your hands undo the button before the zipper on your black jeans. You start to shimmy out of them before you give him one last pleading look.

He doesn’t look like a patient man. “Don’t make me do it for you.”

That thought prompts you to finish your task. You don’t want some pro hero undressing you like a toddler. You’re more than capable of doing this yourself.

Your jeans pool around your ankles, and you’re left in your underwear. “Do I…need to take them all the way off?” You ask as you look at the floor, embarrassment washing over you.

“Eh, yeah. Take ‘em all the way off.”

You could cry, but you won’t. Not yet at least. You kick off your shoes and your pants follow. He beckons you over with his finger, silently telling you to come closer. Afraid of what will happen if you don’t, you walk over to him.

“Bend over my lap,” Bakugo orders.

You close your eyes, wishing this would all go away as you follow the hero’s instructions. A hand tugs at the waistband of your underwear, and you realize he’s about to pull down your only layer of protection and modesty, no matter how thin it is. Your hand shoots back and grabs the elastic.

The hero clicks his tongue at you disapprovingly. “The belt’s right there you know,” he quips.

You sigh and put your hand back in front of you.

He taps your bottom three times before introducing the first swat to your right cheek. You gasp in shock at how much it hurts. Before you can recover, another spank lands on your left side. Back and forth, Bakugo creates a steady rhythm, focusing on the lower half of your bottom.

The ache runs deep. It throbs, but you try to remain silent, digging your nails into your palm. Because you’re not giving any reaction to the pain, the pro hero thinks the swing of his palm isn’t hard enough. He ups the level of strength he is using to deliver a crisp smack to the center of your burning rear, and you finally start giving clear signals that the punishment is working.

“Oh God, please, stop!” You cry out as you begin to wriggle around on his lap. Your legs scissor, but this doesn’t thwart him. He simply pins your legs down with one of his own as he continues to spank your ass raw.

“This doesn’t seem like cooperation.”

You stop struggling upon hearing a certain tone in his voice. He’s fucking enjoying this. All of that hatred for sadistic authority comes bubbling up in your chest, and you lash out at him.

“You fucking pig!” Your fists pound against his leg as your hips try to turn over, but he has you effectively pinned down. “You’re nothing but a fucking low life!”

He snorts at your insult. “That’s the best you’ve got?” He gives you another good swat, even harder than the last, causing you to cry out. “It looks like you need a reminder of who’s in charge. You know what I think?” He rests a hand on your blazing rear. “I think you’ve never had a man in your life to put you in your place. I think you’ve been able to get away with shit for way too long, and that’s why you’re such a little brat who takes things that don’t belong to you.” He rubs your sore bottom, challenging you. “Am I wrong?”

You sniffle at his condescension while biting your lower lip. You feel like you might actually combust if you answer that question.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to answer. I already know it.” With that, he reaches over and grabs the hairbrush.

You look over your shoulder when cool wood taps against your scorching skin. You wish the floor would open you up and take you away from this nightmare. Second chances be damned. You’re starting to think jail might be better.

“OW! Ouch, this hurts! I’m sorry, okay?! I’ll do better! I won’t ever steal again! I won’t commit another crime! Please, please, just let me go! I understand. I get it. You’re in charge here. You’re the hero, and I’m just some thug. I get it. I’m trash, just some worthless thief. Please?” You try getting through to him emotionally. Manipulation was always your strong suit under pressure. You were good at getting your way in times like this.

He scoffs at you, seeing right through your little act. “If you keep thinking that way, we’re gonna have a different talk after this one.”

It’s odd to you how the once cool wood of the brush is starting to grow warm as it heats up your backside.

“What do you mean? I don’t want another talk!”

He huffs and briefly pauses the hairbrush spanking. Bakugo grabs you by the back of your hair and makes you look at him. “You’re not trash, and you’ll only be a thief if you keep stealing after this. You plan on stealing again?” His eyes bore into you, waiting for your response.

“No, I won’t, I promise. I’ll never steal again.”

“Good. Call yourself trash again,” he delivers a hefty blow with the brush, “and see what happens.” Bakugo finally releases your hair.

You squeal in pain, tears sliding down your cheeks as the brush paddles your ass. You feel like you won’t be sitting down for a month. You want to rebel against the pro hero and argue with him, but it’s nice that he’s trying to keep you from talking badly about yourself.

The last ten are intolerable as he delivers them to the sensitive under curve of your bottom.

Bakugo sets the brush down on the table beside the belt. He rubs your back before patting your bottom lightly, you wince at the contact, but you keep your whimpering to a minimum. You appreciate him giving you a moment to rest before helping you up.

“Now, I know you don’t want this, but you weren’t exactly cooperative.” He picks up the belt. “Struggling, insulting yourself and me, and trying to guilt me into letting you go. That buys you six licks with the belt.”

“No…no, please, I learned my lesson. I’m begging you. Don’t do this. I can’t take more.” It was pitiful, but you couldn’t go through another spanking again, no matter how short.

Bakugo’s determination is unwavering. “Alright, nine.”

“What? No, that’s not fair!”

“I make the rules here. I decide what’s fair, and I say this is what you deserve. The longer you decide not to listen, the higher the amount. I can play this game all night, brat.”

You suck in a breath, trying to keep yourself from shrieking in his face and making this worse for yourself. You clench your hands into fists, punishing your palms again with your nails, the only thing that helps keep you grounded. Tears gloss your eyes as they spill down your cheeks. You hold in a sob as you look at the pro hero.

“Okay, I understand,” your breath comes out shaky, but at least you’re not sobbing.

Bakugo turns you around and puts a hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to bend over the metal table. You hear him shifting, the belt buckle clinks against the table as he picks it up. It’s your turn to shift once you feel the belt line up with your inferno of an ass. You pray that this ends quickly.

The belt is a different type of pain entirely. To you, it’s worse than that devil brush, worse than sitting on bleachers in the summer, it might even be worse than being burned by lava.

Your screams fill the room with each strike of the belt. You feel welts on your raw skin. The burn traveling deeper and deeper. You want to reach a hand back to protect your aching bottom, but you don’t want him to raise the count either, so you’re stuck sobbing into your arms as he reaches four.

The hand between your shoulder blades is comforting even if the other hand is causing you the utmost discomfort. “I’ll be gooood! I’ll be so good! Please?”

“Good to hear.”

You groan at his short and heartless response. Clearly, he is intent on finishing all nine lashes that he promised. Another strike of lightning has you wailing at the top of your lungs. He targets your thighs and finishes off the last five that way.

“There, you’re all done.”

He puts the belt down and continues to rub your back. You lie there until your sobbing is reduced to sniffles. He pulls you up by your arm and turns you back to face him.

Bakugo holds your jaw in his hand firmly and forces you to look at him. “Are you ever gonna steal again?”

“No, I promise I won’t.”

That’s all it took to break you and make you never want to go into crime again. He smiles smugly, realizing this. You give him a defiant pout, but that only makes him hold your jaw a little more firmly.

“Watch it, brat,” is all he says. It’s all he has to say.

Humiliated, you lower your eyes and nod.

“Alright, I need to sign some more papers. You wait here. I’ll take you home after.”

You nod and wait, but as you do, you feel like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You feel your troubles disappear, and you can’t help but silently thank the pro hero deep down.

[thoughtfulfangirling]

Between all the fighting, we see this one enemy sneak off into the castle, break into a room, and take off with a briefcase. The helicopter is summoned back, and our villains file in and make an escape.

In the meantime, we saw Goliath get tossed over the side of the castle and fall and only able to save himself by slowing his descent by putting his talons into the side of the tower. A reminder that Gargoyles don't simply fly. Lexington nearly gets taken down. More grenades are thrown. Etc etc. Everyone may be safe, but it's not a great start to their new life in the future.

[autisticsupervillain]

FTF: Crossover Competition

The show where we take two characters from different franchises and make them compete in something that ISN'T a fight to the death.

This Week's Competitors...

Agent 47 vs I.M.P.

Competition:

Agent 47 is tasked with assassinating all of the targets IMP is sent to the human world to deal with during Season 1 of Helluva Boss, while IMP is tasked with assassinating all of the story mission targets in Hitman 2016. Which side succeeds in fulfilling all their contracts?

Conditions:

Stats Equalized. Agent 47 is at the level of IMP, while IMP is at the level of 47, to keep any stat differences between universes negating the challenge.

Both characters are given the same mission briefing for each target that the other was canonically provided with, just from canonically appropriate sources (IMP getting the briefing from whatever sinner hired them while 47 gets his briefing from Diana, but the intel granted is the same)

Neither are allowed outside help (while IMP will still have Stolas's book to allow them to persue the contracts in the first place, Stolas himself cannot keep watch or bail them out. Similarly, 47 will not be supplied weapons by his ICA or black market contacts and will only be allowed the weapons it is shown he owns and keeps at home in Freelancer)

Agent 47 does not have any feats granted to him by easter eggs.

Analysis: Agent 47

"Names are for friends, so I don't need one."

One day, the International Contract Agency found a mysterious man knocking on their front door. The man had no name, no history, and seemingly no personality. All he had was a remarkable gift for murder, as if he were the grim reaper himself. He said he went by 47. It wasn't a name, so he made it one. He became the ICA's greatest assassin and paved a legacy of death everywhere he went.

In truth, Agent 47 was a clone, created by Dr. Ortmyer in an attempt to create the world's greatest assassin. Unfortunately for Ortmyer, he succeeded. 47 killed his pseudo father, and struck out on his own. Left directionless by the revelation of his birth, 47 attempted to start a normal life for himself. Unfortunately, he found that his only talents were in killing people. So, he decided to he was going to be the best there ever was at it. He would kill the most powerful people in the world for the right price and prove that no one, no matter how powerful, was above consequences.

Agent 47 is a master of stealth and disguise unlike any other. He's considered a myth to law enforcement agencies all around the world and has repeatedly killed people with the same level of mythic status as himself. Those who do know he exists would much rather hire him than make him their enemy. A smart move considering he tears down international conspiracies on a weekly basis.

Agent 47 is quiet the Renaissance Man, even rivaling Mario for the title. He's more than capable of doing nearly any job on the planet and is capable of using anything as a weapon. He can knock grown, fully armoured men out cold with snowballs and feather dusters. He can kill people with umbrellas, pencils, and pens. He can even use fire extinguishers as improvised grenades. An Agent 47 armed with only his garrote wire, silver baller pistol, and coins is best considered fully armed and dangerous, but he's capable of using much more. When even his standard, silenced Silverballer pistols are strong enough to kill elephants in one shot, you know he's a walking armory. Shotguns, SMGs, sniper rifles, and more. If 47 doesn't have them at home, he can buy them off of his arms dealers. And that's not even counting his truly ridiculous weapons, such as a briefcase that homes in on anyone he throws it at and goes through anything in its path, a variety of grenades and explosives disguised as rubber ducks, toys, or golf balls, and a whole host poisons he can inject, spray, or poison your drink with, ranging from emetic rat poison to make you vomit, sleeping drugs to knock you out cold, or traditional poisons that can enduce heart attacks or shut down your brain. Whether he's bringing it from home, finding it on sight, or making his weapons out of whatever he's found lying around, 47 always has countless weapons close to hand and he can kill you in at least five different ways with each.

Similarly, 47 is smart enough to competently perform any job on Earth, even frequently imitating and impressing experts in his field. Butlers, Doctors, DJs, CEOs, Engineers, and so on and so forth. He has successfully disguised himself as close loved ones of his targets and is fluent enough in most languages to pass himself off as a native speaker. This vast array of knowledge allows him to improvise countless ways to kill his targets. From drowning you in a toilet, tricking your bodyguards into killing you, manipulating your wife into pushing you off a bridge, driving you to grief stricken suicide, or even running you over with a goddamn train, if there's a way to kill someone, he's thought of it and performed it with no one any the wiser.

On top of his superhuman intellect, 47 is superhuman physically as well. He can survive exposure to the freezing cold temperatures of the Carpathian mountains while mostly naked, is immune to nearly every poison and disease known to man (baring few exceptions) has survived being electrocuted while standing in water (albiet was knocked out by this) and has a resistance to mind control so great that the person trying to mind control him died from the sheer backlash. It has even been noted by an implied psychic (who was clairvoyant enough to deduce a client's criminal history) that 47 has an aura of death looming around him that strikes terror into anyone capable of seeing it. And since 47 doesn't physically age, he will never grow out of his prime. As such, he's still kicking ass well into 59, easily outperforming men half his age.

Agent 47 also has the Instinct ability, a sixth sense that allows him to see through walls and can predict where his targets are going. However, he cannot use this ability in open combat.

47 has snuck into the White House undetected, frequently dismantles international conspiracies and secret societies, and is strong and skilled enough to defeat a middleweight MMA World Champion in only three blows. He even bested Sanchez, a genetically engineered superhuman who was twice his size, in unarmed combat.

If 47 has any weaknesses at all, it's that he rarely makes an emotional connections with anyone. The trauma of his ruthless upbringing has left him emotionally distant and he struggles to emotionally connect with others. Those he does care about he will do anything to protect, even against suicidal odds. Similarly, he has repressed many of the memories of his childhood, partly due to trauma and partly due to mindwiping drugs, and he frequently questions his place in the universe due to his upbringing. 47 doesn't think he's capable of committing to any line of work that doesn't involve murder, without hurting the few people he holds dear.

Agent 47 was an attempt to create the world's greatest assassin and he was a complete success. Unfortunately for his creators, he was still human. This meant that they were the first in a long list of people to discover just how well they'd succeeded.

Analysis: The Immediate Murder Professionals

It is remarkably easy to go to hell.

Cheat on your wife? Hell. Kill your husband for cheating on you? Hell. Build miraculous futuristic technologies by experimenting on the poor? Straight to hell! It's hardly fair! No wonder hell is suffering from an overpopulation crisis, it's so easy to get stuck there! And the worst part is, you don't get to enact brutal revenge on those who wronged you in life! What's a forsaken soul to do?

Call the Immediate Murder Professionals!

Some of the finest... well... deadliest... no... some of the luckiest imps in hell have gained special access to the human world, and they're using that incredible power to kill whatever puny earthlings you get around to in life. Thanks to their... "business arrangement" with the demon prince Stolas Goetia, these professional killers have special access to the grimoire of the Ars Goetia, permitting them to create portals anywhere in the human world.

They're lead by Blitzo. The O is silent. Once a simple circus performer whose life was destroyed in a fire that killed his family, scarred him for life, and destroyed his relationship with his best friend, he now runs one of hell's most unique up and coming businesses. Despite being a loud, vulgar, abrasive wind bag, he's a deadly proficient killer and assassin. A master acrobat with a flair for the dramatic, he's never caught without a flintlock, a semiautomatic, and a sniper rifle. And he's the one who arranged the business deal with his.... partner Stolas.

It's a transactional fucking, he swears.

But despite his numerous flaws, he's a loving father to his beloved hellhound daughter Loona.

Moxie Knolastname was once an enforcer for his abusive father's mafia family, joining up with Blitzo in prison after a job gone wrong and... begrudgingly... respecting him for being a truly loving father and, on occasion, a good friend. The greatest marksman on the team, this well read thespian and historian is just as deadly an assassin as any of his teammates.

With him, he brings his loving wife Millie, arguably the single most bloodthirsty imp this side of the ring of wrath. Armed with a short temper and a massive battle axe, she can cleave targets in half by the hundreds and will happily slaughter an army to reunite with her dear husband.

Together, this scrappy rag tag team is capable of taking down any target you hire them for, from a family of cannibalistic serial killers to an entire building of demon hunters. Despite their lack of magical glamours, they're still masters of practical disguises, able to easily blend in to the human world and take any identity they might need, even disguising as world famous celebrities. They carry every kind of weapon they might need, from pistols to sniper rifles, battle axes to swords, crossbows, grenades, and even a big, fuck off rocket launcher nearly the size of a building.

But their deadliest weapon of all would have to be their holy tipped gun. As an ordinary gun enhanced with the melted down weapons of angels, these fire arms are powerful and deadly enough to even kill demon royalty, nullifying their powers and destroying their souls completely.

As demons from hell, they're far more resilient than any ordinary human. They've regularly shrugged off being shot, stabbed, blown up, and crushed. They can drink demonic alcohol with no ill effects, which can transform earth animals into monsterous sea beasts, and Blitzo in particular can even beat out Queen Beelzebub, Queen of Gluttony herself, in a drinking contest. They're completely immune to Earth fire and can even tank an explosion that destroyed all of Loo Loo Land.

Millie was singlehandedly capable of slaughtering the Knolastname mob family, they've massacred their way through the demon hunting D.H.O.R.K.S., defeated Striker, one of the deadliest assassins in the entirety of the wrath ring, and even managed to kill a target who was protected by the angels of heaven. The team can consistently dodge arrows, bullets, and even automatic fire, and can keep up with the Robotic Fizzarolli in combat, who can dodge Blitzo's guns at close range.

But despite all of their on paper impressive feats, they are still held back by some massive glaring flaws. As imps, they're some of the lowest ranking demons in hell's hierarchy, having none of the special powers of royal or sinner demons. They're just as mortal as regular humans. But Blitzo in particular can sometimes by the tean's biggest liability. He blames himself for the fire that destroyed his life, and has developed a repugnant personality that pushes away the people closest to him because that's what he believes he deserves. He refuses to acknowledge his deeper feelings for Stolas because he can't comprehend someone genuinely loving him back and his inappropriate behavior can at times put strain on his team's coordination.

Despite that, I.M.P can simultaneously be some of the luckiest demons in hell. So lucky that Blitzo was once able to trick an entire room full of gangsters into killing each other by tipping over a box. They've even recently gained an ally in Asmodeus, the King of Lust himself, via Blitzo repairing his old relationship with his long lost childhood friend Fizzarolli.

Life in hell might shit all over them, but they'll never be down for long. So if you're a sinner with a score to settle, hire the Immediate Murder Professionals! Kids die for freeeeee~

Throwdown Theme:

Competition Breakdown:

Agent 47's Section

Murder Family

The target, "Mama" Martha, is launched into stardom and hailed as a hero after she cheats on her husband with a married man and survives the impromptu murder suicide that occurs when the wife gets home. The grieving family of the deceased Mrs. Mayberry hire 47 to get revenge on the woman they blame for ruining her perfect life.

As per the rules, Agent 47 will not know ahead of time that he's dealing with a family of cannibalistic satanists, but I honestly doubt he'd be thrown by such a revelation. 47 is very used to his targets being comically terrible people and his reaction to being confronted by serial killers is to bluntly tell them he's not impressed and that he's seen worse. He'd probably just go:

If he even reacts at all. The dude is hilariously unflappable. He'd honestly kinda fit in on the Hazbinverse's comically terrible Earth.

As for the Murder Family themselves, I don't see 47 having much trouble. By Hazbinverse standards, they're just ordinary humans. While they are skilled enough to put IMP on the backfoot, it's very out of character for 47 to directly confront them in open combat. Especially when Martha's the one he's here to kill. 47's biggest issue is he refuses to hurt children, so he'd likely avoid a direct confrontation. Likely by hiding in the closet until the family goes to bed and smothering Martha in her sleep with a pillow, which he's been known to do before. 47 clears pretty easily here.

Spring Broken:

This is an interesting one. The premise of this episode is that Blitzo is competing with his ex to kill more targets than she can fuck in a day by taking thousands of contracts at once with all the targets being in the same spring break crowd.

To set this up on 47's side. 47 in character is not going to get in a competitive dick measuring contest with a succubus he doesn't know. In fact, his reaction in that scenario would be "wait, demons are real?"

This is the man who reacted to meeting the actual Santa Claus by bludgeoning him unconscious, stealing his clothes, and stealing his sleigh to escape the crime scene. He's not phased by damn near anything.

In character, 47 would imbark on this kind of challenge... because he can. 47 canonically loves to test his skills with complicated, over the top kills that he somehow pulls off undetected. Taking thousands of contracts whose targets are all attending the same spring break party would be completely in character for him if he's bored and in the mood to flex a bit.

But that set up removes any prior knowledge of Verosika, who is hosting the party in her human disguise. This creates a problem, as during the party, Verosika carelessly tosses a demonic alcoholic drink into the ocean, transforming a passing fish into a giant sea monster that IMP must then take down. With no prior inclination that this is something that could happen, how does 47 fair?

Well, hilariously, I think his in character approach would side step this in a very practical way. 47 would likely drug the party's alcohol with sleeping drugs to knock out everyone at the party, inadvertently KO'ing Verosika before she can create the ocean monster. This leaves Verosika's bodyguard, Tex, left to deal with, as he's too professional and responsible to be caught drinking on the job. But 47 could just follow up by shooting him in the neck with a sleeping dart. Demons have been effected by Earth sleeping drugs before and 47's can knock out hippos in seconds, so that should still bring down the Hellhound.

After that, 47 can kill his targets at his leisure, leaving Verosika to wake up hours later surrounded by a lot of conspicuously dead party goers and no clue that 47 was ever there.

C.H.E.R.U.B.

Lyle Lipton is a corrupt inventor who experiments on the poor to create advanced technology for the world's three trillionaires. That isn't too outside 47's wheelhouse. The issue is CHERUB, angels from heaven who arrive to talk Lyle out of suicide.

Thing is... 47 is Christian. He donates to Christian charities and orphanages to settle his conscience and he genuinely struggles with whether a clone like him has a soul. The second game has him adopted by a Christian pastor and try and retire under his care. Would 47 kill someone who is under the protection of angels?

The thing is the context. For one, 47 ultimately concludes at the end of that game that his nature as an assassin will always win out over his faith and returning to his life of crime. While he still values those close to him, 47 continues being an assassin because he thinks that's all he's capable of being.

Ultimately, if 47's faith didn't protect Saint Nick himself, it wouldn't protect Lyle. He'd just go...

In character, I think 47 would just wait for CHERUB to finish talking Lyle out of suicide. Either they fail and 47 succeeds, or they succeed and leave, at which point 47 snipes Lyle through his bedroom window. Without CHERUB involved, Lyle's just a sick old billionaire and 47's killed plenty of those.

I won't be covering DHORKS. IMP weren't hired to go after them, they got kidnapped by them. DHORKS are demon hunters who'd have no reason to go after 47 if they even know he exists. He's outside their jurisdiction.

IMP's section

The Showstopper

Viktor Novikov and Dalia Margolis are the biggest fashion icons in the world and the heads of an international blackmail operation called Iago. IMP is hired by one their indirect victims after they're killed by a terrorist group that Iago sold their location out to.

This presents an immediate problem: IMP doesn't speak French. Well... maybe.

They've never taken a contract outside of America before and there's no indication that demons automatically understand every language in this universe. (For example, we know for a fact that Fizzarolli can't speak Italian, because Crimson is insulted by his mangled attempt to do so.) At least, not Imps or Hellhounds, who aren't supposed to go to the mortal world in the first place and thus usually wouldn't have any reason to learn these languages.

But, there is a caveat there. IMP does regularly interact with Sinners from Earth, who can come from everywhere on Earth. It just hasn't come up because we've never seen them operate outside of America yet. And we also know full well that Imps can learn second languages, as Fizzarolli can speak ASL and Crimson can understand Italian. It's something that would likely come up in IMP's job, so I'll consider the possibility here for the sake of argument.

While IMP can use convincing human disguises, they can't get into the party without an invite and, without 47's ICA connections, cannot forge an ID to get one like he did. But that can be subverted by just hoping over the bushes. Due to security being widly split between both the fashion show and the Iago meeting upstairs, I can see IMP climbing up the side if the building and breaking into the Iago meeting via the balcony.

There, they'd burst into the Iago meeting and gun down everyone in the room, including Dalia.

This is where the whole "Stats Equalized" thing comes into play. IMP are bullet dodgers in their universe. 47 is not. And IMP are Equalized to 47's level. Does this mean they're screwed whenever they start a big gun fight like this?

I'd say no. For one, IMP is tough enough to shrug off wounds like stabs and gunshots to nonvital areas. Imps in general are. But mainly, they have a massive leg up in skill compared to 47 and most of his opposition. IMP are one man armies who should still be more than capable of aim dodging their way through gun fights in the Hitman universe. Especially due to their superhuman agility that the soldiers of the Hitman universe would have little experience dealing with.

Viktor would be informed of the massacre and taken to the saferoom immediately, as IMP aren't particularly known for being quiet. As such, IMP will have to shoot their way down to the basement to get to him. The team's specialties should make this fairly easy though. The supporting fire provided by Moxxie and Blitzo as they bounce around off the walls will keep the heat off Millie and (if she's allowed to come along by Blitzo) Loona as they charge down and maul everyone. Millie alone has singlehandedly carved her way out of the guts of a giant sea monster, so bodyguards with standard issue fire arms won't pose to much trouble. Especially if they try snd shoot her down, they leave themselves open to being sniped by Blitzo and Moxxie.

Combine all that with their supernatural luck and Viktor's a dead man. Worst case scenario and IMP starts getting overwhelmed, they can pull out the giant rocket launcher and bring the whole building down on his head. IMP can and has escaped such things. Viktor has not.

World of Tomorrow

Silvio Caruso and Francesca De Santis are two brilliant scientists working on a bio-weapon that can specifically target certain people based on their DNA. It's a virus with no symptoms that travels harmlessly through targets until it infects and kills the one person it is programmed to. The ultimate assassin.

Viewing this as a threat to his business, Blitzo decides to gather the team to assassinate both scientists and destroy the virus.

Seeing how the team is this time in Sapienza, Italy, I'll be taking into account the potential language barrier again. As far as eliminating the targets goes, I can see IMP not needing to go loud at all. Sapienze provides plenty of sniping vantage spots to eliminate both targets from the other side of the city and Blitzo has proven to be a crack shot with his sniper rifle. The virus itself is a bit more tricky, as it's secure in the underground lab beneath Caruso's mansion. But there is still a stealthy solution there.

The underground lab connects to a dock that is opposite a small island. Use the Ars Goetia to portal over to that island or one of the boats and snipe the stalagmite overtop the virus's containment unit. Done. IMP is capable of being stealthy when they want to be. They just don't always want to be. Depends on what's more convenient for them at the moment.

Of course, they're not gonna care if anyone finds the bodies and that'll put them on the radar of Providence, the secret society bsnkrolling Caruso's experiment. This will be an issue for them in the next hit.

A Guilded Cage

Banker Claus Hugo Strandberg and General Reza Zaydan are co-conspiring a plan to turn the country of Morocco into a military state. After Hugo stole millions from the Moroccan people, he had his envoy break him out of jail in a violent coup, inspiring outraged riots and protests around the country. Zaydan plans to escalate these riots and use them as an excuse to enact martial law and overthrow the government. A wrench is thrown into the works when one of the security guards killed during Strandberg's escape is sent to hell and hires IMP to get revenge.

Strandberg is easy. He's held up in a news station that was turned into an impromptu fortress to protect himself from the angry mobs outside. All IMP needs to do is spark those riots into an open conflict. Blitzo has used his superhuman luck to spark large brawls under far less favorable circumstances and all he'd have to do here is shoot a guard from inside the crowd. Most of Strandberg's security will be distracted by the mob while a small portion stays to escort him to safety. This gives IMP the opportunity to burst into the building and shoot down everyone they see, including Strandberg, then get out in the chaos.

This will give Zaydan the opportunity to launch the second part of his plan, ordering his men to "secure" the city while he sits around comfortably in his military base. Zaydan earned his place through nepotism and ass kissing, so he'd never risk himself in active combat. This makes things... very difficult for IMP.

IMP has only fought one group with a level of skill comparable to an actual genuine army of a country. The demon hunting D.H.O.R.K.S. And they did as well as they did partially because D.H.O.R.K.S refused to use modern weapons like guns except as a last resort. Even then, IMP eventually had to be bailed out by Stolas. This is especially possible here, as Zaydan's forces will likely be buffed up by his backers in Providence after what happened to Caruso.

However, IMP can play this smart by letting the military stay distracted by the rioting crowds, but getting to Zaydan is going to be much trickier now. Zaydan will likely be managing the occupation from his office in the old school he turned into his base. This should allow IMP to pull out the really big rocket launcher and blow up his office from the roof of the building across the block, then portal out before the military can retaliate. It's tricky, but if IMP plays their cards right, they should take this one.

Club 27

After indie rock sensation Jordan Cross murders his girlfriend Hannah Highmoore in a fit of drunken rage, his corrupt lawyer, Ken Morgan gets him acquitted of all charges. Ms. Highmoore hires IMP in Hell to get revenge.

Yeah, IMP clean sweeps this one pretty handily. This one takes place in a massive hotel in Bangkok. Ken is freely roaming around the premises with exactly one bodyguard. While Jordan's presence has greatly increased security due to his rich Providence member father, there's only so much they can do to lock down such a public area. Especially as Providence's last two run ins with IMP involved them messing up their grander plans, not going after their family members, so they wouldn't be expecting it.

IMP could shoot their way through the whole hotel and still pull this off honestly.

Freedom Fighters

Here we go. The big one.

Lucas Grey, one of 47's fellow clones, has been stagging a secret war on his creators in Providence from his secret base in Colorado. He's hired lieutenants from all over the globe and turned some the most dangerous terrorists in the world to his side. These include explosives expert Sean Rose, former anti-terror analyst Penelope Graves, psychological torture expert Ezra Berg, and professional freedom fighter Maya Parvati.

One of Grey's officers tries to betray him to Providence and Grey kills him, sending him to hell. The officer decides to get his revenge by hiring IMP to dismantle his operation and kill his four main lieutenants listed above.

I'm gonna be honest, IMP can't fight their way through this one. Not with stats equalized anyways.

These are some of the very best that the Hitman universe can offer. The most dreaded terrorists from all over the globe trained to perfection by Lucas Grey. One of the only people in the world who can fight 47 head on and win. One of the only assassins to sneak up on Agent 47 himself. Frankly in a stats equalized fight, Grey one on ones any of IMP. They're not fighting through a whole army of people trained by him.

This small farm has been converted into a military base and everyone on site is armed to the teeth. So what's IMP to do?

Disguises. This is the only level thus far where everyone is canonically speaking and can perfectly understand English. Other than arguably Club 27. IMP can sell themselves as the assassins who took out Caruso and Strandberg looking for more work. While IMP likely won't know what Providence is by this point, the Freedom Fighters will still be very interested in working with the people who unknowingly stopped their plans in Morocco and Italy.

This won't likely earn them an audience with Grey himself though. Grey despises most of the terrorists he works with, viewing them as strictly a means to an end, and IMPs tendency towards collateral would put them at the top of his "dispose of as soon as convenient" list. He'd also be suspicious as to why he hadn't heard of them until recently and keep them at arms reach overall. Which is fine, as he's not on their list anyways.

Honestly, given IMP's complete lack of history in this world up to this point (baring prior kills from their own series), Grey might think they're more clones like himself and 47. I don't know if that'd improve his opinion of them or worsen it, but it would be hilarious.

From there, it's as simple as "wait to get invited to next strategy meeting and blow everyone away" before immediately portaling out before everyone 8n the building comes to kill them. Grey's operation continues mostly unharmed, as he planned to eliminate those four lieutenants anyways, but he's left very confused and concerned as to how the fuck IMP managed to disappear on him like that.

Situs Invertus

Alright, last stop.

Erich Soders is a former International Contracts Agency member who sold out his organization to Providence so they'd bankroll a life saving medical operation in Hokkaido, Japan. Yakuza lawyer Yuki Yamazaki is tasked to oversee the transaction. One of Soders's old victims sees this as an opportunity to get revenge and hires IMP to kill them both, with Yuki as collateral damage to punish Providence for trying to save his life.

Right away, loud is the only option here. The hospital is run by an AI and operates off of mechanical doors that scan for keycards in a patient or staff member's clothes. 47 got around by pretending to be a patient, but thst won't work for IMP because... well... demons. So, blow it all up it is.

That aside, IMP cakewalks this. Security is gonna prioritize escorting the patients away from the gunfight, which won't be an option for Soders mid-operation, so nothing stops IMP from going straight for him and Yuki. What's worse is the only way off the mountain is by cable car, so if Yuki nearly escapes, IMP can just shoot the car down. Clean sweep.

Conclusion:

So, both sides, more often than not, clear both rounds. I find it amusing that 47 didn't even need his wackier gadgets to get past the supernatural stuff of Helluva Boss. He could get through his targets with very mundane solutions. And I also appreciate IMP inadvertently smashing apart all the careful conspiracies of the Hitman-verse like the wrecking ball of death they are. Ironically, they struggled a lot more with completing Hitman's contracts that 47 did completing theirs, despite the more grounded tone.

Drspite the two series polar opposite tones and settings, this would be a fun crossover. I'd definitely read IMP going through all these assassinations.

This Throwdown is a Draw!

[eu-fraseando]

Indicando Fanfics (ao3)

Como alguém não versado em tecnologia de viagem no tempo, Klaus gostaria de deixar registrado que não tinha ideia de que atravessar uma zona de guerra com esta tecnologia poderia danificá-la na medida em que foi danificada. Em sua defesa - ele gostaria de acrescentar - esquivar-se de tiros, minas terrestres e granadas enquanto tentava pegar a maleta e seu amante antes que ele sangrasse foi uma situação altamente estressante. E ele era só um pouquinho, um pouquinho, quase nem um pouco alto. Além disso, novamente, ele não teve treinamento em viagens no tempo. Linguagem: Inglês

Palavras: 11.470

Capítulos: 13/13

As someone not versed in time travel technology, Klaus would like to go on record that he had no idea that crossing a war zone with this technology could damage it to the extent that it was damaged. In his defense - he would like to add - dodging gunfire, land mines and grenades while trying to get the briefcase and his lover before he bleeds out was a highly stressful situation. And he was just a little bit, a little bit, barely tall at all. Also, again, he had no training in time travel.

Language: English

Words: 11,470

Chapters: 13/13

[having-conniptions]

KinnPorsche ep 7 + Side Story Rewatch Rambles:

Idk why the Side Story isn't in the actual episode I think it's so important for the development of the relationships - both the VegasPorsche fuckery and the KinnPorsche softness are SO IMPORTANT

THIS IS THEIR FIRST TALK AFTER THE DRAMATIC GOODBYE KISS AND KINN TAKING A BULLET FOR PORSCHE

Aka this is where feelings are acted on AND EMBRACED instead of being pushed down right away AND without a dramatic, emotionally charged situation as the catalyst. Just soft, wholesome cuddling, hand-holding and hair-petting. No alcohol, drugs or adrenaline clouding their judgment. The conscious decision to be together like this - loving, caring, romantic. As a couple. THIS IS A BIG STEP FOR THEM I'M TELLING YA

Also the phone call between Porsche and Chay 🥺❤️❤️

Ok on to the actual episode

I know this is gonna be a good one

Idk how grenades work but certainly not Like That

Vegas wearing red I- 🥵

Oh god Vegas getting out his little torture briefcase

Pete's face says "he looks kinda good covered in blood"

I need that necklace Vegas is wearing

"Promise me, no matter what happens, you must return to me." ❤️❤️❤️ SEE WITHOUT THE SIDE STORY IT WOULD BE WEIRD TO SEE THEM ACTING LIKE A PROPER COUPLE NOW BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE NOTHING TO BRIDGE THE GAP BETWEEN "EMOTIONALLY CHARGED FAREWELL KISS" AND "WHOLESOME SOFT COUPLE BEHAVIOR"

Yes I am very passionate about this why do you ask

Vegas' face when Porsche doesn't show up alone lmao

VEGAS IN YET ANOTHER RED SHIRT MMMMM

The minor family residence is actually so pretty

Awww lil bit of Ta & Vegas interaction

Ta & Porsche awkwardness LMAO

VEGAS SIPPING RED WINE WHILE WEARING RED VELVET OH LORD HAVE MERCY

I think Chay's ringtone is the same as the alarm on my phone lol

Hahahaha the messy house is so relatable

Korn your apple metaphor is fucking stupid

Kim gifting Chay a guitar awww 😭❤️😭❤️

PROTECT CHAY AT ALL COSTS

Detective Kim back in action!! And he sees all the pictures on Chay's wall and the shirt and he actually finds it kinda endearing awwww

"Do you like anyone?" Real smooth, Kim.

THIS HURTS I K OW HOW IT'S GONNA END SO IT HURTS

Kinn is jealous and Porsche is ENJOYING IT

Oooooo Vegas spilling the tea 👀

Tay 🥺❤️❤️❤️

"Looking for something?" 👀

Balcony scene my beloved

"When you're done, return it to me. The gun... and yourself." 😭❤️😭❤️😭❤️

"I'm not just carrying one gun, you know" AND PORSCHE'S EYEBROW LMAOO

The way the sexy music just stops and Why Don't You Stay starts playing idk if I should laugh or cry

Idk if I'm a fan of the scene where Vegas speaks English for a long time - as much as I love Bible I feel like his voice sounds too soft and it makes his acting seem kinda flat (which I obviously can't judge when he's speaking Thai but in this scene I've kinda noticed it)

AGAIN I LOVE BIBLE AND I THINK HE'S INCREDIBLY TALENTED AND HARD-WORKING AND JUST OVERALL AMAZING, I just think he comes across as a little flat in some parts this scene (idk the lines feel like they should be delivered with more arrogance/confidence but that's just my opinion)

Vegas speaking Italian, now THAT'S hot

Porsche and Vegas have such good chemistry, such a shame Vegas is forcing it (though I don't think he's completely faking)

Pete as Kinn's spy keeping an eye on Vegas and Porsche is so good lol

I need the scene of Porsche dancing, drinking and smoking as a live wallpaper on my desktop please and thank you ❤️❤️❤️ idk what it is about that scene, it's so satisfying, aesthetically pleasing, attractive? Idk it's just great. The music really matches the vibe and Porsches dancing and the editing match the music I just love it

Especially that first shot where he empties his glass and the light hits his tits just right lmao

"Let's go outside" *takes him to the bathroom*

Porsche's triceps as he leans on the counter APOOOO ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US

JEALOUS KINN TO THE RESCUE

"DO YOU NOT SEE THE RING ON MY FINGER?" 🔥🔥🔥

I can't focus on them fighting I'm distracted by Apo's arms HOLY SHIT

"I shouldn't have loved a crappy guy like you" LOVE CONFESSION LOVE CONFESSION

This scene tho. THIS SCENE.

The way Kinn goes straight for Porsche's tit - same, babe

The lighting is so beautiful aaaa

The most unrealistic thing is that there is no mess whatsoever, no clean-up, nothing xD

But the hug??? Beautiful. <3

I guess in a way we have Vegas to thank for this huh?

[berestweys]

Kinnporsche Rewatch - Episode 7

Summary: Pete summarizes it best: Porsche seems shy. Now they’re holding hands!

Favorite Line: “Is he taking you as his bodyguard or wife?!”

Porsche’s Wacky Antics: Wrestles a guy with a grenade. Climbs on a motorcycle that isn’t his, like a little kid with a cookie jar, and gets caught by Macau. Holds his champagne glass by the base like an unhinged maniac. Takes the opportunity to fondle Kinn’s dick and call it a Magnum. Drunkenly dances with the Minor Family guards. Slaps Kinn across the face and is so mad that he loves this asshole (“Yeah, get him!” someone in my house might have yelled).

Why is Chay crying? He’s panicking because Kim shows up to his house unannounced and sees Chay living like a slob. I’ll imagine he sheds a desperate tear or two.

Woe is Big: The dude he thinks is the saboteur from another gang is actually just some guy chatting with his wife. Porsche finds the grenade guy instead and gets the glory of taking him down. Poor Big.

Tankhun Highlight: Where is he I miss him.

A Woman Speaks: Go-go dancer yells for help after catching a grenade. Innocent dude’s wife berates him through his Bluetooth earpiece, yelling at him to get his ass home. She is clearly the true victim here.

What’s Pete eating, and who prepared it for him? Grilled pork skewer, given to him by Vegas when he remarks they look tasty. Joins in the Minor Family lunch.

Vegas Report: Arrives at the casino at just the right moment to catch the Don’s lackey. His lil’ torture briefcase with neatly folded raincoat is the cutest. All his tools have matching red handles! Once he’s done dismantling the henchman, he comes up with a plan to catch the bad guys. But, to pull it off successfully he MUST have Porsche as his assistant. Why? Who cares. He puts on a show for Porsche at the Minor Family compound in an effort to coax him away from Kinn. His Evil Smirks are hilarious. Appears unfazed by the truly insane way Porsche holds his champagne flute. Kinn throws him out of his own bathroom. Vegas thinks Porsche can be bought with gifts and promises, but I won’t hold it against him because his abysmal and pathetic attempts at seduction are adorable.

Shipping Activities

KinnPorsche: Kinn is upset! Vegas asks to borrow Porsche, “Because he wants everything that belongs to me.” Never fear, Kinn! Porsche promises to come back. They hug it out. Porsche sports a shit-eating grin as he describes just how great the Minor Family treats their bodyguards. Kinn is not amused. Kinn calls him to wish him a nighty night while he’s staying at Vegas’ place, and it turns out he missed him so much he hurled himself out of bed, “escaped” his house, and went to see Porsche. His hair is in a wild state, proof of how fast he ran. He gives Porsche his lucky gun & makes dick jokes. They exchange sexy emotional hand jobs in Vegas’ bathroom. The way they cling to each other is so much. I’m thrilled at the opportunity to type the phrase “sexy emotional hand jobs.” Thank you, gents.

VegasPete: While Vegas is using all manner of matching tools on their prisoner, Arm and Porsche look ready to puke. Pete… watches. He doesn’t look curious really, but rather speculating. Later he gives a considering nod when Vegas tells their tour group, “There’s no schedule here. You can eat whenever you want.” That night when Pete is tryna be sneaky on Spy Mission Number Two, Vegas of course catches him immediately. Pete’s cheerful eyesmile sure is something at this juncture. Paired with Vegas’ charming smile as he plants his hand on the back of Pete’s neck and guides him back to his rooms, these two are a couple of Spidermans pointing at each other.  

Do I care about KimChay yet? No. Kim discovers Chay’s shrine to him and proceeds to grill him about who he likes and I’m actively dying this is pain. Then Kim ruffles Chay’s hair bleeegghhhhhhh just shoot me. Maybe I’m not cut out for cute things? Except Pete is cute and I love him, so. Hmm.

# of KimChay scenes in this episode: 1

# of KimChay scenes I watched without skipping through: 1

Kisses: Forehead kiss on the balcony so nice. Vegas tries to kiss Porsche in the bathroom and it is yikesawkwardyikes. In general I want Vegas to have whatever he wants whenever he wants it. But too bad so sad Porsche is not about Vegas’ mouth At All. Better kisses once Kinn gets Porsche’s pants off. Like, really really good kisses. How are they so good at kissing how.

Tits Out: Porsche in the bathroom, getting it on with Kinn. Kinn appears to appreciate Porsche’s boobs as much as I do and for that he has all my affection.

What’s Gun wearing? TWO FASHION FORWARD OFFERINGS 1) Brown & navy plaid suit, navy shirt, multi-colored scarf with tropical pattern. 2) Beige sweater!polo, orange/blue/green scarf. I didn’t even know they made polo shirts as sweaters; I am enchanted.

Serious Observations of Various Sorts: The episode opens with a closeup of Pete’s sweet little squirrel face. He’s a dimpled casino worker now! The enemy of the day is someone called Big Wang (I am twelve years old). All of the doors and archways at the Minor Family compound are bright green. I’m once again in love with how this show carefully uses color as symbolism.

Have I calmed down? Ha! As if.

*

Episode 1/ Episode 2/ Episode 3/ Episode 4/ Episode 5/ Episode 6/ Episode 8

[queermarzipan]

OKAY SO GUYS GUYS GUYS.

I figured out a way to make The Day That Wasn't happen. Like, actually happen. Realistically.

There is no "Five inexplicably just decides to come back an entire day later than he could," which is the literal only other way that I could think of.

I actually love it a bit, because it is so simple.

Five isn't only at the Commission to get a briefcase; The Commission also has information. Information that Five desperately needs. And it is, in fact, entirely accessible... via the Infinite Switchboard.

And let's face it, Five happening across that one transmission at the exact right time was entirely coincidental.

So what happens if Five misses the message that says, "Protect Harold Jenkins"?

He looks for answers elsewhere.

He threatens the entire roomful of people with the grenade like "I can drop it and be out of here before it hits the floor."

On the Infinite Switchboard, he examines every interaction his siblings have with an outsider, including fucking Klaus's torture.

And he finds Vanya opening the book. He reads what she reads. And he's like, wait, when did this happen? Holy fuck, has something good happened while I wasn't there??? Hang on——

And what does he see but his siblings each, seperately, having the best thing happen to them that is possible in that moment. PLUS he now knows that Vanya's powers are a very real possibility in what causes the apocalypse, and that said powers are linked to her emotions. Which is such a HUGE advance on what he knew before, which was Nothing, that skipping a day might actually not hurt in the long run. And if it's this day, it might actually be helpful.

And while Five is constantly annoyed by his siblings' "incompetence"— He does care about them. A lot.

I mean, he has lived literally an entire lifetime revolving around trying to Get Back in order to save their lives kind of caring.

Bingo.

[reddus-sideblog]

M.E.R.C.s - Ol’ Reliable

7-24-890 AR

With a screech of tires and the thunk of doors slamming, a car stopped outside the Top Shelf Guns Emporium. Bruno cast an eye about the store to make sure that it was in order. He’d meant to stock some more of the shelves earlier but a lengthy call for a customer out of the zone ordering a bulk shipment of .44 magnum cases that had lasted an hour and a half had banished the thought from his mind. The store was plenty stocked as it was, and as the late afternoon sunlight filtered in through the high, barred windows it happened to fall on the display for the season’s new rifles that he’d just put up yesterday.

The door to the shop jingled in succession as it opened twice in a row. A pair of chimeras entered the State Island gun store and the bearded devilkin at the counter folded his newspaper before looking up at the boys that had entered his shop. The two dogboys must have been from the same litter, the pair of them were black and white all the way down, and dressed similarly. One was carrying two briefcases while the other grabbed a pair of handbaskets. The chimeras gave him a friendly wave and they quickly started down one of the shop’s aisles, obviously knowing what they were looking for already. Bruno set the paper down on the counter and watched the duo go about the shop for a moment. They seemed like they were in a hurry.

    The young man not carrying the briefcases started loading up on ammunition, magazines, grenades, body armor plates, and batteries. After a brief argument over a thirty meter rope spool, the dogboys approached the counter. The two handbaskets were weighed down by a truly monumental stack of materiel in each. Bruno looked at the pair of them, his skepticism evident on his face. In response the one chimera pulled up both briefcases and laid them on the counter next to their purchases. The jingle of golden bullion made Bruno less skeptical, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.

    The devilkin scratched his thick black beard, “Deus Machina in Heaven, you boys tryin’ to start a sector war or something?”

    The boys were disarmed by the invocation of the Machine Lord by a devilkin, on top of what seemed to be a sudden recognition of the sheer amount of ammunition that they had picked up.

    “Well,” began the chimera that was white with black mottling, “We have our reasons.”

    “I don’t normally pry, but I usually do for purchases of over one thousand gold.”

    The black chimera with white mottling cussed and checked his pockets and the other began berating his brother for not bringing enough cash. Bruno drummed his fingers on the countertop loudly to get their attention. The chimera’s ears perked up at the sudden noise before the two of them turned back to the store owner.

    “So. Again, what do you boys need all of this gear for?”

    Both of them hesitated for a minute, before the white with black one began.

    “Well, you see, a friend of Jack and mine got picked up by some suits-”

    “He’s just a kid y’know,” chimed in the other chimera.

“-and Landen was taken off in a white van. I saw the place where they took him but we needed to gear up to go grab him. Especially if we’re fighting g-men, right?”

Bruno rested his elbows on the counter and let out a deep sigh.

“So you two are gonna take on the feds to get your lil’ buddy back. A stone’s throw away from the Capital Sector? In broad daylight?” Bruno crossed his arms at them, expecting a response. 

The dogboys paused for a moment, the wind obviously taken out of their sails. It seemed like the difficulty of what they were proposing was starting to sink in. Bruno didn’t want to completely sink their hopes, but he didn’t need two overeager young men loaded down with merchandise from his store kicking the hornet’s nest that was the Newland government in the zone.

“Look, Wyatt and I-” started the one named Jack.

“Are gonna get yourselves killed if you just charge in,” finished Bruno. “I get you need to help your boy but you need to be more deliberate about these sorts of things. Just charging in might get the both of yah killed, captured, or even get your buddy killed in the crossfire. Get it?”

Jack growled and slammed his fist down on the table.

“Well, are you gonna sell us your crap or not?!” he snarled.

Bruno didn’t flinch, in fact the older devilkin hardly reacted to the chimera’s bared teeth and aggression. Instead he reached across the counter and grabbed the twins by the collar of their shirts, one with his flesh and blood arm, the other with his cybernetic limb.

“Listen here you little brats. You can tell me what to do once the both of you have been mercenaries for over twenty years. I know a damn thing or two when it comes to retrieving a hostage, storming a federal facility, and chewing through g-men like they’re wet toast.” 

“Oh yeah?” One of the dogboys retorted.

Bruno pulled the snarky chimera in with his cybernetic arm and smashed his nose against his broad forehead before letting go of both of their collars. The upstart chimera fell to the ground with a bloody nose before Wyatt hoisted him to his feet.     “Yeah.” Bruno reached into one of their baskets and pulled out a box of .45 caliber AP rounds. “Sure these are good for wasting gutter trash in scrap metal, but against the guys you two idiots are going after, they might as well be blanks.”

The store owner disappeared behind the counter for a moment before reappearing with a nondescript cardboard box. He shook the box a little, making the rounds inside clatter.

“If you want something that’ll actually do some damage you’ll want high velocity rounds. Now, I’m half decent at makin’ handloads, but these’ll wreck your barrel if you hold down the trigger. But they’ll go through just about any body armor and make sure that the guy wearing it doesn’t get back up.”

Jack looked almost pouty, but he was paying attention to what the old man had to say. 

“Now, what kind of piece do you carry?”

Keeping his nose pinched with one hand the black and white chimera slowly pulled out his pistols and laid them on the counter. Bruno was glad that his advice was being treated a bit more seriously now. He looked over the dogboy’s pistols. A pair of Blu-Ning .45 Classics. About as simple as pistols got, really, but half-decent for their price point. 

“The mags for these things ain’t huge though, I’d recommend extended mags and maybe a mag spring if you want more up time when you’re shooting them.

“Ah right, I also have a couple extra barrels, if you want to buy some now. Don’t come back here and yammer my ear off if your gun jams in the middle of a firefight though, I’ve warned yah that those HV loads ain’t the best for its health.”

He handed the pistols back to their owner and turned to the other dogboy.

“Whaddabout you, son?”

Wyatt blinked in surprise before handing off his huge, ungainly axe to the devilkin. While at first glance the large heat weapon seemed like an old piece of crap, Bruno knew looks could be deceiving. It was a knockoff of an Asmodeus Arms model that was no longer produced, and the PIL maker’s mark gave away that it was a Pseudo-Industries Limited reproduction. He turned it on and watched the blade go from inert to white hot over the course of a minute, before turning it off and letting the weapon cool down. 

“Yeah, this thing is OK, but yah should probably get a new coil, this thing’s getting to the end of its life, and you don’t want to have to wait a whole minute and some for it to get to maximum heat. I do have a third gen Burnout coil that you could put in here instead of that, though. It’ll eat batteries like nothing else but you’ll get up to temp in half a minute.”

The white with black dogboy mulled it over as the storeowner took apart the weapon’s heating mechanism.

“This thing would’ve crapped out on you when you needed it most too,” he said as he pulled out the old heating coil, showing it to the chimera.

“See right here? Hairline fracture. The damn thing was gonna crack in a few swings and then the whole weapon would be useless, or light itself on fire. I’ll throw in the baseline replacement, if you don’t want the Burnout-3?”

“Oh,” proclaimed Wyatt, as he removed himself from his pondering. “You’d do that?”

“Aw sure, no one uses the types of coils those things take any more, I have a whole pile in the back if you wanna buy more.”

    Bruno looked over the two boys. They could barely be twenty, but the two of them had the look of M.E.R.C.s about them already. He’d been just the same when he was that age, half-cocked and ready to take on the world. That exact mindset had cost him an arm and one of his horns, and it had cost a lot of his fellow M.E.R.C.s more than that. M-CA, HMB, Triage, Co-Op, it was all the same, contracting agencies ate up eager young bucks and only spat out mangled corpses or hardened combatants. Employment with criminal organizations, on the other hand, only ended with death.

    “If you can spare me a bit of time I can get a friend of mine on the horn, she might know a thing or two about those guys who grabbed your buddy.” Elaine usually had the straight dope on government operations, and while getting specifics out of the lady was like pulling teeth Bruno could usually suss out what was going on behind the scenes by asking the right questions. If the Newland government actually did have anything to do with the abduction he’d get wind of it pretty quickly.

    “What’s made you give so much of a damn all of a sudden?” asked Wyatt, his tone bordering on suspicion. As much as he might have guarded his voice, the chimera’s ears gave him away when they pinned back in apprehension.

    “Look,” said Bruno forcefully, “I’ve seen enough young guns run off to an early grave for one lifetime. Personally I don’t think that Heaven and Hell need any more kids in ‘em. I’ve seen enough people dying in front of me when I worked for Triage, and if those bombings by that catbitch are anything to judge by Newland ain’t getting much safer for anyone.”

    Both of the dogboys looked like they wanted to protest, but Wyatt thought better of it after a quick glance at Jack’s bloody face. The two finally resigned to letting the old man help them, and they spent the next few minutes purchasing their chosen gear.

    Once the small pile of purchases was heaped into a large cardboard box, and all the gold was counted out Bruno started for his office to call his friend. Elaine should have been back from her usual late lunch about now, if nothing too urgent had come up for the Special Police Force captain.

“Hey, how much for those?” injected Jack, pointing at the white box of hand loaded shells. His nose had stopped bleeding, but the mottled skin of his face was caked in still-tacky blood.

“Those?” Bruno shrugged. “On the house.”

[distopea]

@maljefe

body catapults over the bench, immediately dropping to her feet with canine like grace. gritting her teeth she glances over her shoulder, spotting two dark shapes coming her way. clicking her tongue against pallet she takes off, arms and legs pumping til she was practically a blur sprinting through the trees. it was dark in the area, but it gave her cover. the night sky had been lacking a moon that day and she silently praised whatever god was watching over her.

bursting through the tree line she spots a busier street and takes off down it, zipping in and out of the crowds. by now she wasn’t far from her shop, but heading there would cause issues if they followed. so instead she took a turn down a dank alley, running for another ten minutes before finding herself near a port. “I should know better than to go here…” but as long as she was smart she could avoid any negative interactions- or so she thought.

as soon as she made it to where she thought she’d be safe she rounded a corner and smashed into a mass of something soft yet solid. stunned she dropped back, wrist popping in a way that made her stomach crawl. fuck, I just want to get back home to my son goddamnit. reaching down to her boot she whips out a blade, holding it out protectively. “get out of my way.” in the distance she could hear voices approaching, and let out an audible groan. “sorry don’t have time to explain but if anyone comes through here you never saw me-“ / I’m sorry I didn’t expect it to get this long ajdjehdhd

The night was very fresh but a spring day. It reminded him of the few ones he had spent during his training near the Fjord, the natural coldness of the place creating clouds of smoke each time he was breathing out. The docks were almost empty at this hour of the night, and those who were reckless enough to come any closer would certainly regret their decisions. The Cleaners were out for business – an important importation of new machine guns from Russia, along with a few barrels of bullets, grenades, flamethrowers, and quite a dozen of briefcases loaded with a lot of money. It was the monthly refill they were expecting from the East, quite in a good timing since there were some issues with a few smaller gangs downtown.

Kaizen had just finished to settle the deal with his usual interlocutor, his cigarette clipped at the corner of his lips. The freshly acquired merchandises would be transported downtown during the night, and he was still anxious that some crazy idiots would do something stupid just to mess up with a large organization. Robbing the Cleaners was thrilling but it was also putting a target over their heads, and he was more than ready to take his gun out and shoot the first person crossing his path. He was always the last one leaving the docks after a trade, and while he was almost sure that everything went smoothly, well, someone bumped into him.

“Hands up!” Kaizen immediately barked with a low voice; his Glock was lifted up so he could shoot the intruder right into their face. His brown eyes now adjusted to the darkness surrounding them, he finally recognized the face of a woman, her fingers holding a blade up. He was still tense because of the transaction, but his instincts were telling him that she wasn’t here for the weapons. Shit, was she a fucking runaway too? He clearly didn’t need to deal with that right now. He looked behind her back, the distant sounds of voices echoing against the containers on the harbor giving some legitimacy to her prior statement. “Fuck.”

He was trained enough to quickly catch her wrist, putting some pressure on it so she couldn’t swing her knife and hurt him. He pushed her against the nearest wall, his palm over her head so she could squat down, hidden by a large tower of boxes and other wires. “Down. You stay here.” He caught his phone inside his pocket and called the first number on the list, waiting for his partner to pick up. After one dial, there was a voice echoing on the line.

 “Docks 5. At least three.” Kaizen threw his cigarette on the ground, a new cloud of smoke invading the space around him. He would deal with the woman later. At least a dozen Cleaners were also heading their way.

[dykeza]

As the person who became your mutual through Kisuke mpreg, I feel it only right that I'm the person who jumps on this grenade. Plus it gives me an excuse to gush about your writing and I love doing that (gotta break out my business suit/briefcase again).

I'll talk about your writing with Mayuri, Akon and Kisuke (just post-tybw, Nemu is still a brain). Honestly the fact that people can breathe so much humanity into Mayuri, an incredibly psychopathic and deranged, otherwise evil, character is insane to me. I really enjoy your characterization of him because it felt really in-character while also heightening the love for Nemu that we never really got to see in the canon story (that's why his sudden protectiveness over her in the Pernida fight didn't land quite right with me, nice as it was; it just came out of nowhere). His extreme denial over Nemu being dead even when he's holding the remnants of her brain is great- absolutely destroyed me, and really helps strengthen the idea that Mayuri loved Nemu so much- more than just as a physical manifestation of his success in the scientific field, but as an actual daughter. I also really enjoy the relationship he has with Akon (Twelfth Division my beloved) and how familiar they are with eachother- you really nail the idea that Akon grew up working under this man, and that Akon was the only person Mayuri really confided in, having experienced similar things to him (the Maggot's Nest, Kisuke's exile, etc). You really nail the closeness in the division too, with how much Akon cared about Nemu (the sibling dynamic was not one that I expected and destroyed me emotionally so thank you for that) and how Kisuke was the first person he ran to get help from when he couldn't get through to Mayuri. The scene with Kisuke in the tent was great too- I loved that little moment with Shinji crying outside of his tent, and Kisuke cracking a (terrible) joke that he all but begs Akon to laugh at because of course Kisuke would joke about his blindness moments after waking up. He's Kisuke. I also love how he knew about Nemu, despite the two of them (seemingly) never having met in the canon story- of course, he and Mayuri weren't having passionate gay sex in the canon story either, so he'd probably have met her sneaking out Mayuri's window at 2am once. I love the confrontation with Mayuri, where you can tell that Kisuke genuinely cares about him, and that Mayuri, for all his aggression, has something of a soft spot for Kisuke, at least. AND THEN Kisuke mentioning Ururu at the end, and how she wants to become a shinigami, and the throughline to your last work about Mayuri & Akon where Mayuri doesn't want Akon to become a lieutenant and have to through his life away for Soul Society; we love callbacks. Mayuri resenting having to become a shinigami is so in-character for him, and honestly makes me wonder why he let Nemu become his lieutenant- I can't imagine she went through the Academy, although that would open up the funny image of Mayuri having to attend parent-teacher conferences and the like. I'm getting off track- the work was really really good!! I really enjoyed how deep the chemistry in the Twelfth Division goes, and how you nailed the weird family-dynamics in play (Mayuri and Kisuke's weird divorced energy, Akon and Nemu having been raised in this environment, the latter having been born in the Twelfth, etc)

I'm pretty sure that's eight sentences. I don't wanna go back and check. Also I couldn't search Kisuke's tag either, nor your art tag, which made this process a bit trickier because I had to rely on art/writing I reblogged.

I get to pick the father, lucky me. Uhhhh. I'm torn between Mayuri OR a Mamma Mia situation with Fruit Smoothie, where there are three men and nobody knows who the actual father is. The latter sounds funnier honestly. I'll leave it up to you which tho, since you only technically asked for one father and I don't wanna make you do extra work if you don't want to :)

Anyway this was cursed as fuck and I have to submit this ask before I get the chance to regret it goodbyeeeee

It took me 5 minutes to collect myself from scream laughing on the floor because I did Not expect to actually get an ask. But Fawn Fawnatrix, the mutual acquired through Kisuke mpreg jokes, comes in with the steel chair. Thank you for this beloved 8-10 sentences I don’t know why my search function is acting up, maybe it’s Tumblr forcefully trying to silence mom Kisuke enjoyers. Anyways Mamma Mia time.