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finleyjayne · 4 years

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Living a Lie: Chapter 1

Thank you for everyone who helped with this fic. Including the amazing @kittykatlow, the wonderful beta for this fic.

Summary: Penelope Grace Darling: the name you live by, the only name the world remembers. That doesn’t keep the memories of Y/N out of your head. All you ever wanted to do was create a better world. You thought you were doing that until some unexpected visitors to your hometown turn your world upside down. Can you leave your past behind you in order to keep your loved ones safe? Or will your fragmented memories keep you from the truth?

Pairings: Past Winter Soldier/Reader, Plus sized!Reader. Slow burn Bucky Barnes/ Reader.

Warnings: Dub/Noncon, Rape, Kidnapping, human trafficing (referenced), Underage Rape, Swearing, PTSD, Anxiety attacks, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Non consenting drug use, underage Drug use, Violence, Domestic Violence, I’m trying to remember what else comes later in the series.

This is a Dark Fic if you don’t like it Don’t Read It!

Ten sets of feet all in nicely polished leather-soled shoes, all connected to well-tailored suit pants.

Nine men sitting in chairs, all supposedly listening to the man standing on the other end of the table from where you sit curled up underneath.

Eight bottles of alcohol sitting on the dark mahogany sideboard. Beautifully cut glass reflects the firelight and dim room lighting as if they are made of stars. Clear globes sat on top of their stoppers, looking like witchballs, reflecting the horror story that had become your life.

Seven Matryoshka dolls, each colored with similar traditional faces, bellies painted with cityscapes and cathedrals sit on the mantle above the fire. Their faces mock the tense atmosphere with cheery smiles and laughing eyes.

Six books are housed on the other end of the mantle—each written in the Russian script, Cyrillic. From what you can read on their spines, they are books of traditional fairytales, as if this wasn't the central office of the Bratva, the Russian Mafia.

Five… five… looking around trying to find something that was five, you curl up a little tighter underneath the far end of the antique mahogany table. The panic rises in your body as your brain starts wandering from the little game of eye-spy to what had happened the night before. It was not the first time you had exchanged masters. You were a high commodity to these people. Young, talented, naive, strong enough to withstand what they wanted, and apparently unwanted. No! Stop! Back to the game, stay in the moment.

Four. Four panels on the door.

Just as you thought that, your eyes focusing on those panels, the men all stand up and make their way out of the ominously formal meeting. Leaving you in the room without a glance; you are seemingly unnoticed. You freeze in place to keep it that way. You glue your eyes to the wall with the mantel and fireplace.

What am I going to do?

The man that everyone keeps referring to as Krestniy Otets is pacing behind you in front of his throne. What if he’s like the others? Of course, he's like the others. The thought draws a small whimper from your throat. I have two options: let it happen and hope that he isn’t too sadistic; or fight and hope that he finds it fun. Either way, there isn’t anyone to save you. You know you have to find a way to protect yourself. You close your eyes, trying to come up with a plan as you listen to the man's solid footsteps. Who am I kidding? There is only one option. Make him WANT to take care of me. Play the perfect little pet. Innocent, think babydoll, lolita, submissive. Puppy dog eyes, tears, fear, hope. Keep hope they say that makes you seem like a little doll. What did Gammy use to say? Erwarten Sie das Schlim und seien Sie froh, dass es besser passiert. Expect the slumber and be glad it happens better? No… ummmm schlimmste not schlim, that’s it. Expect the worst, and be glad when better happens. That’s it-

The steps stop suddenly, halting your thoughts in their tracks. your body tenses impossibly tight to keep yourself from flinching. No need to draw any more attention, he’ll remember me when he is finished with his business. A deep chuckle resounds from behind you, sending a shiver up your spine. Or you know right now.

“Посмотрите на это, такой милый маленький котенок я купил себе [Russian: Look at this, such a cute little kitten I bought myself.]” The man's voice is deep and robust as he speaks. His tone was pleased but held a note of sadistic teasing. “Little котенок, what are you still doing under there? I thought you would’ve moved to get more comfortable.”

You tuck your head shyly into your shoulder as you look back at the grim-looking man with the biggest, sweetest doe eyes you can, “you said to sit and stay, sir.” Your voice trembles slightly as you whisper the words, It takes everything in you not to break down or vomit, but you manage.

A dark, possessive look passes through his eyes as a self-satisfied smirk graces his lips. “Хороший котенок [good kitten], now come we have things to do.”

Lithely, you roll to your feet, careful not to hit your head on the underside of the hardwood table, and follow him out the four-paneled door, your gaze following the bottoms of his black wingtips submissively as you walk further into the lions' den.

With a gasp, you wake in your soft bed, eyes open but unseeing. Blinking in panic, you wait for your eyes to turn the colorful blobs into precise shapes. The fear strangling your lungs only grows until your hand hits a hard form on the bed next to your pillow, clutching them you hold them inches from your eyes, glasses. Your brain finally catches up slightly, you realize it was just a dream. Taking a deep breath, you slide the thick-lensed glasses onto your nose. Eyes finally focusing. Looking up to the eastern facing window to gauge the time from the slight light slipping through the barred basement window. Sighing at the slivers of light that tinge the sky a rusty red, 8 o'clock. You roll off the bed, standing on your good leg. A hiss escapes your lips as the other tenses with phantom pains. Pushing you to sit and take a second to look at the unfeeling flesh covering the mechanics underneath. After a few moments of movement and messaging the joints beneath the flesh, your brain finally links to the wiring, stopping all sensation from the limb.

You take a few more moments, stretching out the tissues of both legs. Running through the diagnostics tests that have become as familiar as the back of your hands. It takes a few tries to get through the set without any glitches or pain spikes from the living tissues. After the twelfth run, you finally give up hobbling your way into the bathroom with a change of clothes, praying you won't be late for work.

You take care to keep your eyes off your reflection, keeping your eyes on the waterstained wall before rushing to clean yourself under the rusting showerhead. The water barely has enough pressure to send the suds from your body wash down the drain. You keep yourself distant, running through your schedule as you rub the suds over the ripples in your skin. The slight pull of stiff scar tissue against the plushy fat was invisible to the eye but felt as though it were neon stripes painted on your flesh. Your eyes burn with unshed tears, the scalding hot water feeling ice cold.

In a blink, the water is off, and your black, high-waisted skinny jeans and favorite pink peplum top are on--a calming compress to your suddenly overactive nerve endings. Finally looking into the mirror, you brush a hand over the flowing fabrics. Staring at your reflection's hair agitatedly, quickly doing what you can before letting the fading green and blue mass do what it will atop your round face. A quick brush of your teeth, and you are ready to head out the door.

You count the twelve stairs that separate your calm dark haven from your family's chaotic life, immediately running into your frazzled-looking mom. She looks up to meet your eyes, greeting you with a robotically cheery smile that burns the backs of your eyes.

“Good morning, Penelope Darling, are you working today?”

“Yeah, Mom." you choke out, each happy word leaving a metallic taste in your mouth. "Then I’m going to my appointment, I was told I’ll be back around 9,” you respond quietly, grabbing a fresh peach and a knife from the counter before sitting in the office chair at the cluttered kitchen table.

Making quick work of peeling and pitting the peach, you eat while letting your mind drift. It doesn't take you long before you slide on a pair of sandals, bending in half to do up the straps. You grab your bag off the floor next to them, tuck your phone into your pocket, and head to work.

“Bye dear, remember to thank that nice doctor for helping you.”

“Yes’m,” you reply demurely, leaving with a sigh, letting the door into the garage swing itself closed behind you. Walking to your sun-spotted 1996 Mazda 626, you run your hand over her roof, savoring the burn of the hot metal against your skin as you pull the key from your purse and unlock her.

“Heya Gertz, today is gonna be a hard day, but we can make it,” You tell her as you climb into her clean interior, turning the key and listening to her sad little purr. “Yeah, I hear you. Seems we both need an oil change.”

Once at work, you check your phone for the time, ten minutes early, five minutes late, same difference. Anxiously, you hurry into the backdoor of the small shoe store that you work for. Flipping on the lights, you make your way to the register, clocking in as the bossman comes out of the back office.

“Morning, you know you don’t have to be here for another 10 minutes." His cheerful teasing eases the tenseness that your brief interaction with your mother gave you. "I’m going to be outta the store for this morning. I’m leaving you in charge. Daisy should be here in a few minutes, but there is a lot of traffic heading into Salt Lake. Apparently, there is going to be a Stark conference at The U this weekend.”

Your heart dropped at the thought of fighting traffic to get to your appointment. Subconsciously you let out a groan, “If that’s true, I’m going to need to leave a little earlier today. I can just close up if you leave your key, but I have an appointment that I can’t miss.”

“Sure thing, Penny. I’ll be here before we close, so I’ll do it.” He sends you one of his easy smiles, melting away any of your insecurities.

“Thanks, good luck today! Be careful.” You smile back.

“Will do, call me if you need anything.” He says, walking out the back door.

Breathing deep, you start your opening routine, turning on the radio connected to the PA system of the small, main street store. Breathing in the scent of leather, polish, and warmth, you plug in your phone, setting it to play a mix of all the songs you have liked over the year of Spotify that is Utah appropriate. Russian opera, Ballet arrangements, Vivaldi, Frank Sinatra, some pop stuff, Alt. Rock, Jazz. A playlist that is long enough to play music for literal days without repeating a song. Turning on the volume moderator feature and adjusting the stereo's volume until it settles into the background.

As you pull the vacuum onto the main floor, your bustling, bubbly, blonde coworker bounds through the back entrance. She squeals when she sees you, giving you elevator eyes. “Penny! You look cute today. Do you have a date? Please tell me it’s with the guy who I gave you the number for. Did you hear about the Stark expo thingy? Apparently, Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers are coming here for it. Can you believe it? All those people are coming to UTAH of all places. And so close to us!? We could run into them at any time! Like seriously! There is even a chance that they will stop in Bountiful on their way to the DATC. We do have some of the best hiking in the area, after all. Just think, Pens, they are going to be here!”

You chuckle softly when she stops for a second. “Breathe, Daiz,” you instruct, resting your hands on her forearms to get her to pause her rant. “Slow down. Don’t want you to hyperventilate again. One question at a time. I can only answer you if you give me a chance to.”

The beautiful young woman bounces on the balls of her feet, heels tapping out a quick staccato against the ground while she takes a few deep breaths. After three, she loses patience and squeals out, “Pens, the Avengers are coming here! I can feel it in my insides! And you know my insides are never wrong!”

“Daisy, you can’t just say that your insides have psychic powers. Especially when the last time you quoted something from them, you ended up breaking your arm in three places.”

“Oh? Well, I trust my gut, and it says good things are coming.”

You think as you open your mouth to give some sort of salty reply, but she cuts you off

“Stop being such a grumpy pants. I know today is gonna be a great day!”

“Whatever you say, Daisy. By the way, I have to head out early, Bruce should be in to cover the last hour with you.” You say going back to vacuuming the storefront.

“You know I’m right, Penelope!” She yells back at me, grabbing the Windex from under the counter to wash the mirrors.

After a slow morning, Daisy goes out to get herself lunch. You perch behind the counter during a lull of customers on a petite but tall stool. Your foot rests on the seat where only half of your bottom fits, knee to chest, chin resting on your knee, looking uncomfortable, but enjoying the stretch across your lower back. Your eyes follow a plane cutting across the sky as you listen to the clock on the wall ticking patiently to your right. The speakers overhead switch from Led Zeppelin to a personal recording of a Russian Lullaby.

The jingle of the door cuts through the peace. You turn my head smiling, “Welcome to Anderson’s Shoes, what can I help you find today?” you say, sitting up a little straighter as a pair of redheaded women and a disinterested man come into view of your seat. As they look your way, the man’s face perks up a bit. You unfold yourself from the stool, prancing around the counter. The women turn to you, smiling friendly.

“We are window shopping and heard the music, then saw the cute golden sandals in the window,” said the shorter of the two redheads in a distinctly Slavic accent.

Taking a shot in the dark, you smile, “Well, Pani, you must have good taste, both of the things you’ve just mentioned are favorites of mine.”

At that, the Sokovian title the girls’ ears perk, and the shorter’s eyes take on a blithe quality, while the taller’s look unphased after the slightest twitch.

“My name is Penny, would you like me to measure your feet before I go grab a couple of pairs for you to try on?” you say, gesturing to a set of comfortable looking chairs upholstered in an outdated green.

“I’m Wanda, This is Natasha, and the doof standing over there with his mouth open is Clint, I am 37 European, I don’t know what that means American Sizing…”

“No worries, Wanda,” you say with a small genuine smile, “your choice of shoe is a European brand, but for future references, a 37 usually translates to a 7 US unless you're getting a Louboutin, those tend to run a half-size short. But the best thing to do when buying shoes is to try them on. Would you also like to try on a pair as well, Natasha?”

Natasha smirks and gives a small shake of her head. “Thank you, though.”

With a polite nod, you slip into the stockroom, silently making your way through the creaky back halls of the store, picking up the desired gold sandals, as well as a pair of black stilettos in a nine. Guessing about the yet silent woman’s preferences, and unable to help but feel the need to grab them, feeling them calling to her.

Coming out of the back with the two boxes, you find the girls laughing at Clint. His face is scrunched up in concentration as he tries to balance on the tiny stool. Before you can reach the front of the store, he has majestically teetered on the seat. He straightens a bit, throwing off his balance just enough to send him sprawling onto the hard floor. The girls' peals of laughter only grow as he scowls at them. He's rubbing his most likely bruised tailbone when you finally reach where they are sitting.

Chuckling softly at the embarrassed expression he gives you, you offer a hand up to the grounded man, “Don’t take it too harshly if you were trying to sit like me, I doubt even Hawkeye could perch on that stool comfortably. If I’m honest, I’m not sure how I end up on it myself." Pulling him up swiftly, you turn to the girls. "I feel like you should try these shoes, Natasha. They were calling to you. And here are these for you, Wanda.” You say, handing the boxes with their respective shoes to the women as they burst into even louder laughter.

After some more friendly banter, and happy sighs as the girls put on the shoes you handed them. Clint, seemingly determined to prove he is indeed as dextrous as a plus-sized girl from the 'burbs, starts trying to pose on the chair a different way every time you turn your back to him. Natasha, though still guarded, seems to have settled when Clint fell the first time, free with her lip twitches that were clearly her version of a smile.

Watching them and spewing facts about the shoes to them as they walked around the store, the minutes tick by; 5, 10, 15. Curiously, nobody else makes their way into the store while they were there. Right as the girls made their way to the register with their original shoes in the new shoes’ boxes, Daisy walks back into the door and stops in her tracks, whatever exciting news she was going to undoubtedly tell me stuck inside her cheek.

“Thank you, I really hope that you enjoy your new shoes. If you have any problems or need anything else, just let us know-” you start saying until Daisy cuts me off with what you can only describe as a blood-curdling scream, causing all four of you to jump and take up fighting positions.

“PENELOPE GRACE DARLING! DO YOU KNOW WHO IS STANDING IN FRONT OF YOU OR DO I NEED TO KICK YOU?! IT’S THE SCARLET WITCH!” came a rush of semi-intelligent squeals from Daisy’s mouth.

Looking genuinely confused as you try to place the name with the context, your eyes flipping between the four people who were now staring at you. Three highly amused with your confusion and one completely flabbergasted. “Daisy calm down a bit? I am apparently missing something here, and you yelling is definitely not helping me piece it together.”

At this, Clint bends over himself, clutching his sides as his laughter rips through his chest. What a sexy laugh? Even though it’s at my expense. Nat smirks a little longer than her usual quick flashes. Wanda, ever the peacekeeper, extends her hand, “Hello, My name is Wanda, but I’m usually more recognized by my superhero name: The Scarlet Witch. These are my teammates and friends; Natasha, or The Black Widow; and Clint, also known as Hawkeye. It’s very nice to meet you, Penelope. We definitely appreciate the help with the shoes.”

Chapter 2

If you want more Winter Soldier fics check out @darkficsyouneveraskedfor. They have a great one called Breach.

Thank you all for reading. Tags are open for this fic, I am also curious to see what you all think. Share your truth with me.

People I think will enjoy reading this: @star-spangled-beard-burn @angrythingstarlight @tossacoin2yourwitcher @navybrat817 @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @nekoannie-chan @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 @nsfwsebbie @jtargaryen18 @buckys-broody-muffin @nacho-bucky @giorno-plays-piano @buckybarney

#dark fic #reader insert #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x You #plus size reader #Dark #human trafficking #winter solider fanfiction #AU

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curewhimsy · 3 years

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In chapter 5 of Symphony Saga: Resonate, a lot of new characters are introduced now that Haku and Neru end up at a bakery in Whimsica.

Conversation is had... and I’m planning on each character having um... at least one speaking part!

But just in case... Yes... I wrote descriptions for all the characters I planned on introducing.

———

Teto Kasane- (UTAU) Cheerful, friendly, and silly. Likes harmless pranks, smiling, and anything fun or humorous. Kind of like an excited little puppy. Adorable and animated. Has chimera powers. Grows dragon wings and a tail when she’s angry, which is rare, but intense when it occurs. 14 years old.

Momo Momone- (UTAU) Teto’s close childhood friend. Clumsy, passive, and meek, but optimistic. Extraordinarily gentle and mild-mannered, but can unexpectedly pack a punch. Can detach her head with magic. Wears frilly clothes. Likes peaches, but hates nectarines. Has an older brother named Momotaro. 14 years old.

Luka Megurine- (Vocaloid) A bit like an older sister figure to Teto. Moody, quiet, elegant. Has a mature aura. A bit shy, and not all that confident. Good at music and art, and is quite knowledgeable. Clumsy in a fight. Gives good, sage advice. Half-nereid (water nymph,) and can hold her breath underwater for ten minutes. Loves seafood (especially tuna,) but would never eat her pet octopus... 17 years old.

Mako Nagone- (UTAU) Luna’s best friend. Calm and chill usually. Mostly agreeable, mature, and nice. Has a well-concealed, yet fiery temper. It’s a bit hidden, but she’s super-tough. Her berserk button (hated thing) is when people discourage dreams. Acrobatic. A kunoichi (female ninja) in training. Plays viola as a hobby. Loves historical media. Loves ultra-spicy food. 17 years old.

Luna Amane- (UTAU) Mako’s best friend. She’s kind of an airhead. Rabbit fauna with youkai powers. Dramatic, eccentric, theatrical. Likes idols and astronomy. Surprisingly very adept at astronomy and math. Awful at chemistry and cooking. Wants to be an idol! Dancer trained in ballet. Likes carrot cake. Likes sparkly indie fashion. Likes magical girl shows and the manga authored by her friend, Yowa Shion. 17 years old.

Yowa Shion- (UTAU) A worrywart, thinks Teto is too impulsive. A shoujo manga artist. A bit like Teto’s “tsukkomi,” or straight man to her joker. Enjoys quieter activities like drawing and reading manga comics (romance and adventure,) cooking, cosmetics, and studying. Has an embarrassing little crush on Sora Suiga. But it’s pretty embarrassing. Her favorite food is taiyaki. Rather modest. Likes soft things and round things. Hangs out with Mako, Luna, and Sora a lot. 14 years old.

Sora Suiga- (UTAU) A dorky, yet charming and friendly sort of everyguy who likes music, sports, memes, plays Minecraft, has bad luck, is gullible, easily scared, and wishes he were cool and tough like Mako. Class clown. Mischievous. Likes curry bread. A fan of Yowa’s manga stories, and often helps her with ideas. Has a sarcastic pet squirrel named Acorn. Hangs out with Mako, Luna, and Yowa a lot. 15 years old.

Pandora Panda- (OC) Black, indigo hair in two puffy buns. Manager of Pandora’s Bakery. Teto and Momo’s boss! A bit like an older sister figure to Teto, nonetheless. However, she can be irresponsible. Purple panda fauna. A carefree person who has passion for the things the likes... which are food, shopping, and decorating! Pandora is usually carrying around a box... of fun things! Likes bamboo bread. For some reason she doesn’t like parallelograms. Her favorite shape is a hexagon, like her box. But don’t worry... her Pandora’s Box is hex-free. 18 years old.

Emi Byul- (OC) Korean, periwinkle hair. Random gremlin of memes. Yells a lot. Impulsive. Tomboyish and wild yet loves cute fashion. Plays violin. 4’10” but somehow a force to be reckoned with. Usually smiling innocently. In her random phase. However, she’s secretly insecure... 13 years old.

Nova Sol- (OC) Spanish, orange hair in pigtails. A writer. Always getting inspiration for stories. Likes citrus. Always jumping around, demanding attention. Underneath her confident and smiling exterior, she is a sentimental sap. She just doesn’t like to show that side... 14 years old.

Roy Nijine- (OC) Black and a quarter Japanese, plum purple hair in six long braids. An inventor. Stoic and grumpy. Secretly shy and sensitive. Sometimes feels lonely. Nova and Emi are his best friends, even though he pretends they get on his nerves. He actually really appreciates them and likes seeing them happy. 13 years old.

Ian Glaze- (OC) Norwegian, dark mint hair. Likes ice cream (in summer) and hotcakes (in winter.) Mild-mannered and quiet, but outgoing and sociable around friends. 15 years old. He is a bit new to Speckle Town and isn’t as close as Emi, Nova, and Roy are to each other. He is eager to become closer.

Tako Luka the octopus- (Vocaloid derivative) Luka’s pet octopus that greatly resembles her! Quite spoiled. Playful. Likes pranks. Giggly. Cannot speak human languages.

Nyan Cat- (Internet sensation, voiced with Momo Momone’s voicebank) Momo’s gray alien cat with a pop-tart for a body. Can fly and leaves a rainbow trail behind in the air. A loyal companion. Cannot speak human languages.

Muffin the bunny- (OC/stuffed animal) A relaxed and calm anthropomorphic blue bunny. Non-binary. They would talk, but are mute, so they communicate with sign-language and gestures. Loves to eat pie and take siestas.

Merengue the bunny- (OC/stuffed animal) A cheerful and humble anthropomorphic talking pink bunny. Understands sign-language. He is Muffin’s best friend. Skips everywhere. Likes to decorate.

Happy the llama- (OC/stuffed animal) A teal blue talking llama who loves to throw and attend parties! A charmer. Just a little self-centered... Wears a black top hat. Likes tap-dancing, especially at parties. Banana’s best friend. They dance together. Likes to drink Ramune soda.

Banana the lemur- (OC/stuffed animal) A graceful, yet hyperactive talking magenta lemur who does ballet and wears a pink tutu. Happy’s best friend. They dance together. Likes to drink bubble tea.

Slumber the owl- (OC/stuffed animal) A sleepy and scatterbrained talking gray owl who is an inventor. Speaks very formally. His inventions are often very genius... and often duds with specific, obscure uses. He sometimes messes up on the inventions, with humorous results. Overall, he is quite friendly and somewhat silly. Wears a monocle.

#symphony Saga: resonate #symphony saga #resonate #symphony Saga resonate #whimsica #my writing #oc #ocs #utau #vocaloid #ideas #brainstorm #life of pastell #whimsica saga #whimsica the crossover

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f33itan · 3 years

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oop

Ok, hey demons, it's me, ya boy girl. Back at it with another dream rant. now this one is kinda uh, interesting. I would call it a hybrid nightmare dream shat thing, but I HAD FEITAN IN IT FOR EVERY BIT FISMDISJSISK (well mostly every bit) Anyways this is a train wreck but here we go..

First part of dream I remember...

So me and my cousins lily and dominick were in this dude's car on an adventure or something, like you know in games that one person who's your guardian or someth8ng like that? wWe were in the car with that dude. Anyways, then we dropped off lily and domo so i went to the front and me and the dude were chatting while he was on the freeway, then he started swearing a lot, to what i assumed time be the stupid drivers on the rest of the freeway, but then a light teal smoke bomb went off and we had to drive through it. Whilst we were doing this we ran over a pretty lady, and the car broke and I fell right on top of her. I could see her brain goop shit com8ng out of her head, all of the blood splattered on her and the street, and I started hyperventilating in weird patterns. The paramedics came and I got to drink a baby bottle of water. Once I calmed down, i was talking a bit to this lady taking photos of the crime scene, and this other dude who idk what the fuck he was doing. Then some people dressed in bee colors started dancing and the world turned orange, which was kinda weird but i joined in their dancing and it was fun. oh and did I forget to mention while the whole car thing was going on the road and everything was foggy already?

Second part of dream I remember...

Ok so we're back at it again with domo, and this time is a bit hard to explain. So yk when 80s themed movies start and they're in a teen's room? that's where we were. we were playing some video games and there was another older teenager in the other room, and there were these weird colored tape lock things on domo's door. the more you could break and get past the cooler you were or something like that. So somehow i pissed the teen off and he wanted to throw me out the window but in order to do that he needed to break the locks. he broke about 7 or 8 of them and he was pissed and breathing heavily while me and domonick were so excited that somebody got that far on the locks. He was weirded out and left. then this part of my dream shifted to my school and we were doing some sports and stuff.

Now here's where it gets interesting...

So me and Feitan were at this super mario type setting world, and i've been in this setting before in another dream, just not with fei. so we were playing whatever games princess peach had for us but THEN it was a punishment round bc we messed up on something. So the dream shifted to this dark room and I had a black katana in my hand. Sillouettes of the troupe members were coming at me and I had to cut off their heads, but for some it was really hard. Fei was standing behind me while I cut them all, but I missed some. Then the dream shifted again to a dark woodsie area, and me and fei were crouched down on the ground. He had an arm around my back holding me really close to him.

F- "We should get out of here --starts turning in the opposite direction holding me to his side- "

N- "No, I see a door over there."

While we were shimmy shamming to the door we passed this momo lookin ass thing but kept crawling. eventually we ended up on this medium sized ramp and started to shift down it but then there were these weird baby things. I'll draw what they look like at the bottom of this post but then feitan accidentally hit some big metal things and they fell, then the babies started screaming. We ran to the door as they were chasing us then got into the door but i was going to be sent somewhere else. He couldn't come with me soo-

F- "Please be safe and be careful"

N- "I'll try"

F- "IM SERIOUS BE CAREFUL *hug*"

N- "Okay, Ill see you in a bit, love you"

F- "Love you too"

THE DREAM SHIFTED AGGGAAAIIN and now I was in this carnival kind of setting. If you know the VR game rush of blood then yeah this will make more sense, but if not go look it up ODNHEOFMEJ but anyways.. so yk the second level after the pig one where you're in the red and yellow run down carnival tent? that's where i was but it was rectangle shaped and it was kind of an obstacle course. the carnival runner from rush of blood was the controller person thing for it and me and another dude had to run the obstacle course. THE BABIES WERE IN THE OBSTACLE COURSE >:( there was a lot of hurdles which we had to put one hand on and use that to jump us over as if you were jumping a gate from the cops. after the 3rd round i couldnt do it anymore bc i was getting tired and so once the 3rd run was done i think I took a wrong turn into this maze that had orange and blue uv lights with glowing sticky stars and LED lights. I would pass a baby or a blue glowing light from time to time which was scary, but then i got taken back to the super mario world. I ran to Feitan and hugged him and then the dream got foggy.

And their skin was a discolored grayish yellow with dried blood and when they walked they stomped. that's what the babies looked like.

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blankdblank · 4 years

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Next Caller Pt 16

Morning stop in came again before the next spine tingling show with another stop after where you stole a moment with Balin while his brother and cousin were busy to go over a possible outfit list. Thorin had dropped you off and for some reason couldn’t seem to talk to you again seemingly noticing that you were going off alone together after his assumed welcome into your neighborhood as your date. You had stated he could bring Roac, though by then he had agreed with Dwalin to have him watch his raven to guard against the chance Roac would demand that he stay in your home while you were away. He couldn’t risk leaving your birds bonding unsupervised so that would have to wait until later.

Post show stop to the tea shop you were home again folding your clothes into the medium suitcase. Jeans, shorts for sleeping and t shirts and long sleeved shirts alike to go with Dwalin’s chosen shirt for you the bag was ready after adding basic toiletries and an empty sketch book with writing supplies for that. By the door you left the suitcase and turned your focus to a quick snack to counter the sweets you imagined to eat.

Scrubbing up post explanation as to why you would be gone a few days you simply let the birds relax and set their own schedules while you chose to go and peek in at your turtles currently sunning themselves on the rim of the fountain. A doorbell tore your focus away from the turtles and went to let Thorin in. Through the door he stepped with his gaze dropping to the middle sized suitcase and he asked, “That’s all you’re bringing?”

When his eyes met yours you crossed your arms saying, “Two days. Let’s not forget that my legs don’t reach to Orcarni like yours do. How big is your suitcase?”

“Well, the boys have taken turns hiding in it before.”

“I rest my case.”

“But you need room for souvenirs and such.”

“I have room. Don’t you worry about that.”

To himself he nodded then said, “I should probably take it out then to my car.”

Nipping at his lip he lifted the bag trying not to make a sound at how light it felt to him and made his way back down the walk to his car to add it to his trunk. A bit after four at the check of time you noticed people walking towards the park a call for Belly came with his flight through the house ending with his place on your shoulder planting his feet on your arm in the locking of your door. Out to his car you trotted closing your gate behind you and let out a giggle seeing the hefty black suitcase coated in rams heads you could no doubt work him into if you needed to.

“Don’t laugh, have to be prepared.”

“Not laughing. Come on let’s go get to tasting.”

Excitedly Belly looked around and your apparent fan club took notice that Thorin was here with you. From booth to booth you eyed the clear markers for any common allergens in areas separate and from person to person Belly puffed up excitedly greeting each Raven you passed as you greeted your passing neighbors who all greeted him happily in return. Cards in hand you tasted the offered treats and marked your scores and passed Belly the offered treats for the feathery companions as well he took to squatting on your shoulder using one of his feet to hold to sample and eat at his own pace.

Small talk and conversations circled around the deserts you were trying and still Thorin couldn’t help but grin at this very couply occasion. Together it seemed as if you were getting to know your neighbors, surely enforcing for them at least he would be more present in the future. Grins had eased out and surely ignoring the whispers as to you both being the new faces in town you continued to focus on Belly and Thorin. It had only been over an hour and with a comfy yawn Belly crouched again Lowering to your shoulder dozing off making you lean your head over, “Sleepy Belly?” He nodded and you said, “Alright, guess we can get an early start on the drive over.”

It was as if you both had a child in your care and jointly had taken to choosing his comfort over the needs of others expectations. With score cards turned in and silver coins added to the donation till you made your goodbyes and headed off home with others grinning at the Raven nestling his head under his striped wing clearly full and ready for a nap like many other Ravens who had been up all day being led home as well with keepers ready to return again once the task was done.

Quietly you walked back to your home and Thorin waited by his car allowing you to settle him in on your own. A task taking a few moments to gently cradle the bird encouraging his grip on your shirt to loosen allowing his transfer into his nest. “Love you guys, see you in a couple days alright?”

Kuu came over and pressed his head into your middle extending his wings around your sides as a makeshift hug. “Enjoy your trip. We shall protect our nest.”

Stroking his head you giggled out, “Thank you,” and turned to have the hummingbirds in flight nuzzle against your cheeks wishing you a safe trip.

Turned again you headed back for the door that locked behind you leaving just the sight of Thorin opening your door for you as you came closer. “Thank you.” Lowering into the car you shifted your satchel onto your lap and watched his stroll around the car to get in. Once his door was closed his head turned feeling your gaze on him and before he could as what the problem was you asked, “If I ever did get a car and gave you a lift would you be offended if I opened the door for you like that?”

Instantly a smirk split across his lips and he hummed back starting the engine, “I would be honored. What type of car would you like?”

“Why are you asking like you’re going to buy it for me if I told you?”

“I am not.”

“Sounded like it.”

“Well I am not going to buy you a car.”

“I think I might need that in writing.”

Lowly he chuckled saying, “I doubt I would agree to its validity.” Making you scoff and him to chuckle again. “In all the time you’ve known my family do you really think you could stop us from buying you gifts? We’re givers.”

“Oh ya, house, full paid trip to Rohan, why wouldn’t you think you could just surprise me with a car?”

Thorin glances over at you, “They will not all be extravagant. And honestly Dwalin acted alone in this. I had no idea.”

“Where do they live?” Thorin glances at you again, “Trying to picture what sort of home they would have.”

Thorin chuckled saying, “A Dwobbit home not far from your neighborhood. Maybe fifteen minutes away.”

“And you have a modern flat, I’m guessing Dis and Vili have something extravagant.”

Thorin chuckled to himself, “I always teased it was like the Addams family house, to the point they decorate it up like that on Halloween.”

“I know Mal would want something like that one day. Always talks about it.”

“Hopefully not too soon. Dis and Vili won’t let the boys jump too deep just yet.”

“You don’t think she would like Mal?”

“It’s not that, just the usual protection for their young. Have to follow the courtship rules.”

“Well, she is part Hobbit,”

Making him chuckle again, “I know they’re young and inching towards deeper feelings beyond that burning adoration and her genes would make it harder on both sides to honor tradition. They won’t be unfair to her.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that.”

“Bilbo surely would have been giving her some tips on how to fold into the clan.” You smirked at him and he glanced your way with a smirk of his own, “You’re different. Not everyone gets your treatment.”

“Right, I’m me.” In a move to prop up your foot on the seat you flinched your leg down again.

“Prop your feet up if you like. Get comfy it’s nearly an hour drive.”

“So is this the public airport we’re off to?” You said timidly tucking your legs up to lay sideways in front of you.

“Rohan doesn’t allow private jets to land there. We would have to fly to Gondor and take the train there. Only so much space at their airlines. Have you been?”

“On a private jet? No.”

“Rohan?”

“Um, rode through it on a train once.”

“To Gondor?”

“Yup. You like Gondor?”

“Only been when I was a baby. I assume I had fun.”

“I always assumed traveling as a baby is sort of like traveling drunk in a group of sober friends.” Widely his grin spread at the analogy, “You’re basically helpless and you won’t remember a thing so you just go off of pictures and second hand recounting from the people there. So they could have left you in the hotel for all you know past the pictures and you’d be none the wiser.”

Lowly he chuckled and then asked, “I take it this would be your first time flying post enlistment.”

“Yes. Depending how bumpy it gets I may or may not end up on your lap.”

“Only if I don’t beat you to it and jump in yours.” Making you giggle to yourself and watch the city turn to highway outside the windows. A turn of the knob on the radio had his grin deepening playfully at one of Belly’s travel jams you both hummed and sang along to starting a jumble of tries to do the same on the next bundle of songs you both collectively knew a quarter of the words to.

Lights in the dimming sunlight grew brighter as you eyed the airport signs growing closer together. Two round abouts and a long yielding turn found you in the parking lot for the departure terminals.

Out of the car you hopped drawing out your phone to snap a picture of the bush between his car the one in the row behind that. “What are you doing?”

“We’re parked by the butt bush.”

Deep in his throat a chuckle caught and he asked, “The what?”

On your heel you turned and answered pointing at the bush, “Butt bush, it’s shaped like a butt.”

He turned his head only to laugh out loud turning to the trunk he opened with a hit of the button on his key fob. “Oh that is priceless. I think it’s supposed to be a peach.”

“Huh,” You blurted out, “It’s clearly a butt.”

Again he chuckled, “I can’t deny that, but we’re in peach section of row 5.”

Easily he pulled his monster of a suitcase out and set yours on top of it extending his handle as he did, “I-,”

Playfully grinning at you he said closing the trunk, “I know. But there are unspoken rules.” He said stepping around you locking the car with a hit of the button to walk with you closer to the line of trunks and him near the possible lane for traffic.

“Is this a male female thing?”

Again he chuckled saying, “It’s eve of the crescent moon, no woman carries anything heavy while a male of their acquaintance is nearby.”

“Or?”

He smirked at you, “Or the man is turned into an ass by Mahal and the Dam’s beard grows an inch.”

In a whisper you replied, “But I’m not a Dam.”

“No, but I don’t have boarding papers for livestock.” As if in cue you both turned to the growing argument ending at the bray and shriek from far behind you. A fiery haired Dam stood next to a clearly stunned donkey she touched timidly before patting her chin now coated with an adorably curly riff of hair all along it instead of her usual heavy sideburns and goatee. “See. That’s gonna be an extra few hundred to swap papers and pay for the crate.”

He turned and you stayed there a moment then turned to catch up to him asking, “You weren’t joking! Does he stay a donkey?”

Lowly he chuckled, “No he’ll turn back after the month is out. On the waxing crescent.”

“Any more rules like that I should know about?”

“Well, I can’t have toast for breakfast, anything toasted really, least for tomorrow. After that we’re clear for anything. But if there was more I’d let you know.” He looked you over with a spreading grin at your next glance back, “No rules like that for your kin?”

“Mainly for colored moons or equinoxes.”

“I look forward to hearing about them.”

“What’s he gonna do for work?”

Holding back his chuckle he said, “We have donkey days for Dwarves. But his family will have to send in pictures for proof that no doubt will be posted on some sort of wall at work.” He glances at you again, “It’s the anniversary for when Mahal carried boulders to fashion Yavanna’s private spot’s walls. No one knows what the spot is for, but she wanted that space and he carried stones to aid in protecting her tiny domain. That was when she was cultivating some of her Ents I believe.”

With a grin you replied, “That is sort of sweet, you pay respects to his love for his love, who was at the time creating creatures bent to attack your kin for sacking her trees.”

Lowly chuckling he replied, “There’s a give and a take to every relationship. We’re headstrong so she ensured that we had creatures to check our destructive tendencies when attempting to create.”

“Well said.”

“What Gramps used to say to Gran. She was a Hobbit, and thought he was out of his mind most of the time.”

“Aren’t you?” You teased in a giggle making him chuckle again.

“Absolutely.” Once at the door to the closest guard he nodded his head saying, “Donkey, row 5.”

Huffing in his reach for his radio he nodded his head to you both and said, “We got a donkey in row 5.” Though his eyes flinched back to you and Thorin wondering at the pair of you in his own little distracting game to get him through his shifts. From his inner jacket pocket Thorin pulled out the tickets and handed you yours humming out, “I just have to check my bag and we should be able to carry yours on.”

With a grin you approached the counter on your tip toes handing the ticket to the Dwarf trying not to take too much amusement at your struggle as you signed in and weighed your bag Thorin had set on the scale for you then took off again through his being weighed and tagged. Just over the carry on weight by half a pound Thorin nipped at his lip seeing yours being tagged as well and taking your ticket again you joined Thorin at his side asking on the way to the gate, “Does this mean you have to carry my satchel now?”

With a grin he replied catching your eye easing his hand out over the top of your back guiding you to turn through a lull in the people crossing to later security check points father down the long hall. Into the line you went and he replied, “No, only heavy things.”

In a giggle you said, “If it makes you feel better I think most of the weight was in the case.” Spreading his smirk again.

“Little bit. So, nearly three hours, ready for it?”

“Three hours? Hmm, hope you weren’t wanting a nap,” he looked down at you again after your joint step forward seeing you pull out the book on tea he had given you with a open mouthed grin making him smirk, “Cuz I brought the book and you won’t be sleeping.”

Shaking his head as you put the book away to keep a blush from spreading across his cheeks his focus turned to the line again. Step by step you made your way to the pocket emptying station and tugged up your sleeves easing the strap of your bag off your shoulder readying to add it to the tray Thorin was emptying his pockets into. His phone and wallet settled in next to your bag you set your phone onto in his stroll through the metal detector.

After sliding the tray onto the rolling rack you walked through the archway that beeped making Thorin turn as you flashed a grin to the guard motioning you over for a wave of the wand over you. Curiously Thorin expected maybe your belt or a hidden necklace only to feel his heart skip seeing the wand pause at your belly and in a lift of the base of your maroon sweater a flash of a double belly button piercing had him frozen and the guard inhaling sharply.

Lowly he apologized and you nodded moving over towards Thorin whose mind was reeling at the meaning for you on the piercing. In actuality a marker of reaching womanhood for Elves it held an all too well known meaning for Hobbits sought after by Dwarves, a Lass in search of a husband. More bedfellow really as in they were aiming more for the affectionate and intimate aspects of yearning for a husband, even out of legal wedlock if fated to be that way. Overall it silently claimed an ache for suitors to stake their claims to be weighed as possible husbands to one day father children with.

“Keep forgetting it’ll set it off.”

“Um-,”

Hastily he wet his lips and you said, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t mean what you think it means.” That had his brow inch up, “Means the first to buy me a car gets to take me to wife.” That had his brow inch up a bit more only for you to giggle and say, “Joke.”

The approach of one of the screeners had you stepping closer, “Miss, there was an abnormality in your bag.”

You nodded and neared opening the flap for him and started to empty it into the tray until he saw what it was, your beaded Valar pendant necklace, “Tried wearing it last time I flew and they told me I didn’t have to.”

“Thank you, you’re all clear, have a lovely flight.” You thanked him and filled your bag again shouldering it and lifting your phone as Thorin pocketed his phone and wallet holding both of your tickets and leading the way to your gate.

Stealing a glance up at him you saw the reeling of his inner cogs going that halted as you said, “For Vanyar it’s a mark of our womanhood. There’s a whole ceremony where we make an oath to Yavanna and pierce the mark of our Naneth’s bond.” He glanced down at you, “Where the chord once was.” And he nodded at your grin easing out, “Honor our Naneth and the Mother of living things wife of the Crafter of Earth and all matter. We join their ranks.” After his second nod you said, “But I am part Hobbit as well,” making him glance at you again, “And I know what it means for that part of my kin as well.”

His gaze shifted over your head to one of the men from security behind you who passed by flashing you a wink saying, “Gate 67 if you’ve got a long wait.”

From him to Thorin you looked and smirked saying, “So if you’ve got your resume ready apparently I’m taking interviews. Not likely I’ll be heading to 67,” lowering your voice you said, “Think I smelled store bought chamomile on his breath.”

That had Thorin rolling his eyes and looking forward, but in the steadying of his gaze his heart was still racing through pondering if your teasing was meant to drive him off possibly offering courtship or to goad him on showing he had already gained your comfort by the joking back and forth you always ebbed through. A poke to his side had him look to you again and stop as you asked, “Aren’t we gate 98?” To the tickets in his hand he looked then looked up again and nodded.

“Sorry, sort of, zoned out. Long walk.”

“It’s ok, looks like we’ve got here with a nice cushion time before take off.”

Checking in again allowed you to take your seats and try to coax your grump back out of his shell. Sure enough as you cracked the book open his frame leaned over to peer at the page you were on. Subtly brushing his fingers over yours in a point to a part on the page to clarify what he was speaking on came as a minor test, seeing if you would shy away from his touch or not. Once he had held your hand, while you were being tattooed and it was hardly past comforting you in your moment of pain with only a couple of pokes and a pat on your back to add to the minor contact. Stolen glances to check your expression while he lingered closely only pulling back at the call for people to start boarding. From back to front they loaded on and near to the last people on the curiously packed plane and into the middle seat you lowered beside Thorin at the window seat the flight attendant insisted he stick to instead of swapping with you.

Buckled and settled in you readied for take off seeing Thorin’s fingers clench around his knee. Reaching over you planted your hand on his causing his hand to shift and mold around yours laced around his palm for the pressure building process of reaching your cruising altitude. Safety video and take off demo later the screen switched over signaling that you could all delve into any of the offered channels and in releasing your hand he bent to bring out your bag allowing you to pull out your book and distract you both again. Over your side he loomed and absently tapped his finger to your thigh next to the book between points he was discussing further with you, though the poking got a bit sideways at his hand gripping across your thigh entirely in a sudden jostle.

A shake of your head and pat on his arm had him calming that he hadn’t crossed a line accidentally in the release of it to hover next to your book again that you turned his focus to once again. Another hour flew by as you finished off another section of the book you eased back into your bag he settled under your seat again and bravely took hold of your hand for the landing in a grip that clenched slightly then released in the slow pull up to the extending tunnel leading to your exit gate. Last in you were the first section out and shouldering your bag you felt Thorin’s hand brushing against your back in the walk through the plane so that once in the tunnel he could step out to your side. Settling it on your upper back in the growing crowd as if he thought you might be lost from him if there was no contact.

After the exit gate you saw why. Even as a tiny country this airport was bustling and jam packed and just barely you managed to make it without having to leave Thorin’s side through the tall Men and Elves to the baggage claim. Waiting in line you watched the crowd disperse and were in front for the next layer of luggage to drop. One by one you eyed each then helped Thorin pull his monster bag off the turning belt and easily after he lifted yours and set it on top to begin the final steps of your airport journey to head out to the exit gate. In a line of drivers a clearly familiar driver lowered his sign and popped the trunk as he opened the back seat door nodding his head to you taking hold of your bags. A pat of his hand on your back had Thorin following you into the back seat, on which you settled eyeing the people passing while the trunk was closed and the driver walked around the car to take his own place to start the drive.

From highway to city you took it all in until out into a long stretch of green lit only by the trail of cars heading the same way you wondered just where you were headed until a point from Thorin had you leaning into his side to see what he was trying to show you. A lake fed by a series of dams behind the city of Helm’s Deep built into the wall of a small ring of mountains had your lips parting at the bridges jumping from each tiny island along the way across the vast almost endless lake. Each bridge taking you up in an almost hill allowing for boats to pass under that dipped on each island only to rise up again all the way into a near drawbridge like entrance to the fortress of a city lit to the tiniest out looking ledge on the outer wall.

Paved streets between stone buildings wound until you eyed one of the lavish hotels built in a half circle around the half mountain buried convention center yearly used for secure conventions for several topics and attractions. Under a covered spot at the front door the car stopped and following him you slid out and flashed a quick grin to the doorman who had opened the door for Thorin, who was now near the trunk to claim the bags from the driver he tipped and thanked for the both of you. Behind the burly grump a voice called out, “Oi, Oakenshield! Tiny shop couldn’t fund sending a friend for you this time?”

Without looking he rumbled back, “I have company Talbert.” Walking on to the waiting open doors feeding into the grand lobby that dropped your jaw. Painted roof sections between criss crossing breams in gold lit exquisitely in their drop onto lined pillars feeding into more halls all fed by the same copper, white and black illusioned square marble tiles stretching on to a distant dead end. Taking in the details at his side you mirrored his turn and saw the large copper desk that you steadily stepped closer to while a fluid stream of bellboys led the guests up to their rooms.

By the time it was your turn Talbert had apparently found the line and when you had stepped away to follow the chosen bellboy you heard him comment, “Good on you, Oakenshield. Brought a date to a convention. Should win over points.”

As he chuckled amongst his pair of chosen companions you replied before Thorin could, “I help with advertising for the shop, just so you know Mr Talbert.”

Talbert joked back, “Advertising? It’s the size of a matchbox!”

“An incredibly delicious little matchbox, you should be concerned.” You replied without looking back hearing their muttered conference making Thorin’s smirk deepen on your way to the lift.

Once inside he rumbled back, “Thank you.”

You swatted your hand in the air, “Nah, it is you know, and with the show you have a steady growing customer base. Even if they tend to linger around a bit.”

“You do have a point. We have doubled in refill sales alone.”

At your lingering smirk up at him he asked, “Yes?”

“You’re really not gonna explain?”

“Explain what?”

“Oakenshield?”

“Ah,” he chuckled out and looked to the floor dial rising closer to your floor, “Rugby nickname.”

“Hmm,”

Again he glanced at you, “Hmm?”

“Gonna be hard to get the image of you in a jersey and short shorts out of my head.” His blushing turn of his head to rub the back of his neck had the bellboy biting his lip not to laugh.

“That’s the image you get when you think of rugby?” he rumbled to the wall.

“Might be a bit uncivilized but arms and thighs, on some of the fiercest cuddlers you’ve ever met,” lowly he was chuckling.

“Did you play sports?”

“Tennis and jousting were the go to. I was better at the first. Managed to sneak into some ax throwing too when I was discharged, some of my new Dwarf buddies got me into it.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“They went home, and apparently going weekly to the ax throwing place alone is a bit unsettling for some.”

“Ah, I can bet. There is a place back home if you like, we could pick a day off, all hang out throw some axes.”

“Just be prepared to be smoked,” Making him chuckle again. “And I will warn you I get a bit cocky if I drink you’ll need to hide the axes if I offer to juggle.”

Through another chuckle he said sarcastically, “I can’t imagine you cocky,” earning a sarcastic smirk up at him, “Why would juggling be a bad thing?”

“Because last time I tried to see how long I could juggle, got up to two hours before the owner said he had to shut down for a private party. Could have easily gotten to twelve. Imagined myself a champion juggler when I was little.”

“I’ll have to keep you and the boys from drinking together then, avid jugglers. Kept trying to use knives when they were little, nearly had to have Kili’s finger stitched back on had Mili not caught it when he lost focus. Ten year juggle ban in their house.”

“Must have been painful.”

Thorin chuckled and led the way out on your floor, “You have no idea the hell they put us through until the ban was lifted. Only to remember they weren’t that good to begin with and had to start over again.” He stepped aside as you did to let the bag toting bellboy guide you to your room at the end of the hall.

Unlocking the door he opened for you both to pass through first he said, “Your room, double King with a mini kitchen and all the amenities.” In the middle of the living room while Thorin drew out another loose bill he had slipped into his pocket on the ride over you looked over the cozy half stone half wooden room framed around the flat screen on one wall across from a small dining table. “Now we did receive the call from your business partner to confirm on the restriction of lavender from the couples massage, manicure and pedicure treatment. Thank you.” He said pocketing the bill Thorin had given him.

“Thank you. I take it the dining floor is closed?”

“Yes sir, however room service is open 24 hours feel free to order from any of the offered menus they cover and you can even pre order your breakfast as well if you wish. Would you like turndown service? I could have one of the maids sent in.”

Thorin shook his head, “No thank you.”

Earning a nod from him, “Enjoy your night, Sir, Ma’am.” Turning to head back to the door that locked behind him

Looking around again you said, “Nice place.”

Thorin smirked and offered his hand to you palm up dropping the room packet on the couch closest to him saying, “You haven’t seen the best part.” Settling your hand in his he guided you through to one of the halls you saw the double door bath just before the door to a jaw dropping bedroom with an enchanted glass dome roof completely submerged in water with large fish swimming around the wood floored room.

“We’re under water?”

Thorin chuckled saying, “Between the falls and the dams the hotel thought to include the aquatic life around them. You should see your room.”

Turning around down the same hall to the other end he led the way through a room two thirds stone and wood with a full curved wall revealing its own coral centered aquatic scene. And just the same on your awed stare Thorin stared as the fish did in return to your skin shimmering ever so slightly as your Vanyar kin do when they are feeling sheer joy. Though it lasted just a moment then it stopped again when you noticed Thorin lowering his phone from stealing a picture of you.

“Two can play that game.” You said releasing his hand to pull out your own phone to snap a picture of him then you eyed your phone and asked, “What’s this event called?”

“World Tea Expo ‘43.”

You nodded and switched to your Mafioso social page writing, “So no updates for the Arkenstone this weekend as I am out at the World Tea Expo ‘43. Let’s see if they can keep up with my Mug Dealer. Can’t wait to see all that has been brought out this year.”

Looking at his pinging phone he chuckled out, “You do realize they have no clue who I am past a small group here.”

“Well they’re going to be buzzing about this Mug Dealer all weekend. I’ll make sure of it. And we’ll see just if anyone pays any mind to Mafioso’s postings.”

“It’s going to drive them crazy for who it is. You tagged the event.”

“As it should. Keep them on their toes. We may be small but always mighty. If anything I’ll get a few more chuckles out of you and drive that Talbert up the wall looking to impress the mystery Mafioso.”

In a low chuckle he said, “You and your mysteries.”

“You appreciate my mysteries and you know it.”

Again he chuckled, “Of course I do. I’ll get your bag. You do like that one?”

“Ya, long as there’s no crabs should be fine.”

“Crabs?”

“Ya, they don’t like me. Faced off in Ruun more than once.”

Remaining quiet he nodded and turned unwilling to break out the heavy question of what that place was like for you. Having seen pictures growing up it was hard to imagine any could live there a week let alone your 48 years. Back again he came with your bag after leaving his in his room and he asked with menus in hand, “What would you like to eat?”

Waiting for the food as he flipped through the channels you asked, “Couples massage and a mani-pedi?”

Smirking at you he replied, “It’s supposed to be relaxing on a work trip. We always get it done, if you don’t want to I can cancel.”

You shook your head looking at your nails, “Have to get my nails redone anyways. I suppose I could take advantage of your pre planned pampering, this once.”

Making his smirk deepen. “Glad to hear it.”

With a grin another worker brought up your meal they set out on the table while you untied then removed your shoes to take to your room finding it a bit odd to be on the other end of the service spectrum. And in his leaving you were back taking your seat while Thorin turned the tv on its rotating stand so you could watch the show he had chosen in his loss for small talk at the moment. The quiet was a thing you were both grateful for while your mind reeled as to how the weekend would go completely alone with your grump. There was no risk for him hurting you or crossing any lines but all the same it would be the first time to not have any job or relatives of his to distract you from one another. You supposed it could be a chance in disguise to see just what could possibly grow between you or if the pair of you would remain friends.

“What time are we starting in the morning?”

Thorin, “Breakfast will be here at six and the expo doesn’t officially start until eight. Plenty of time to sleep still.”

You nodded and turned for your room while he turned for his, “Seep tight.”

“Same to you, I know you’ll need it for your mischief.”

Joint sighs behind your closed doors car before wake to your suitcases you opened to start changing into your pajamas and climb into your puffy beds. Yet for all the poof of the comforter you grumbled into your pillow at the absurdly hard mattress and closed your eyes to force yourself to sleep without wasting any time complaining about the bed.

Pt 17

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

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The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Seventeen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

—

When Trouble Comes To Town, Men Like Me Come Around

“Hey, where the hell were you two?”

“Huntin’.” Arthur dropped the three turkeys they’d shot on the way back onto Pearson’s table.

Pearson grumbled something under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“I thought you’d gone.”

Arthur frowned as his hands went to his belt. “What?”

“After... what happened, I thought you’d both gone.”

His jaw moved slightly as he looked at him. “Well, we ain’t. We ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Pearson nodded, and Ada thought he was going to say something else when his head bowed and he studied the state the turkeys were in. “So, uh, where did you get—”

“Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach, ain’t you?”

“And you’re better than all of us, are you?!”

She turned with Arthur to watch Karen storming after Miss Grimshaw, coming up the path from the river. Both women looked thunderous.

“At least I didn’t fuckin’ shoot someone who didn’t even know what was goin’ on, you miserable bitch!” Karen yelled and Grimshaw turned sharply, halting and thrusting a finger at her.

“Listen here, you little ungrateful cunt, I did us all a favour!”

“You did yourself a favour, you’ve been wantin’ her gone since Dutch cast you aside and took her in!”

“They ain’t stopped since,” Pearson muttered behind them, and Arthur released a long breath.

Starting to move forward, he murmured, “I better—”

“No, Arthur,” Ada murmured, her hand settling on his arm making him stop.

It seemed Susan had had enough, though, her face red and twisted.

“You don’t know what you’re talkin about, you bitch.”

“Oh, ho, I don’t?” Karen’s hands went to her hips. “You get real fuckin’ sad when you drink, Susan, and you don’t fuckin’ shut up so I know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“You keep away from me!” Susan hissed, turning on her heel and striding towards the fire pit.

Karen scoffed, for once not looking delighted that she’d gotten the upper-hand. “Gladly.”

Turning, she, too, strode away, nearing Arthur and Ada. Lifting her head, she stopped abruptly as she caught sight of them, her gaze flicking between them. Her eyes settled on Ada and her lips pressed together. Then, she turned, heading in another direction.

Swallowing, Ada released Arthur’s arm as he turned to her, arching an eyebrow.

She gave a small smile as she lowered her voice. “It’s better if we just leave them to it, let them get it all out.”

He nodded, then his hand lifted and rubbed her arm as he sighed, his eyes scanning the rest of the camp. “Let’s find Sadie, see what’s been goin’ on.”

They found their friend down by the river, guarding the small path. Her features lit up at the sight of them, shouldering her rifle and striding towards them.

“Hey, I got a plan to get John, now,” she said before either of them could even open their mouths.

“You do?” Arthur didn’t sound particularly surprised.

She nodded, keeping her voice low. “Yeah, we can’t all go, though, it’ll be too suspicious. I’ve just had to talk Abigail out of comin’ with me, for Jack’s sake, and she’s mad as hell.”

“I’m comin’ with you,” Arthur answered instantly.

Ada pressed her lips together slightly but said nothing.

Sadie inclined her head at him. “All right. Now, we obviously ain’t tellin’ Dutch.”

Ada almost laughed. “Yeah, good idea.”

The older woman turned her gaze to her. “Can you stay here and just, make sure he doesn’t suspect anythin’? Say we’ve gone huntin’ or somethin’?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Maybe we’ll just have another explosive argument, that’ll keep him occupied.

“Thanks. We shouldn’t take long but, just incase.”

“Of course.” She raised her eyebrows, releasing a breath. “Look after each other, please.”

“We will, I promise.” Her friend’s features softened for a moment before she was patting Arthur’s arm and heading back up towards the camp. “C’mon, we ain’t got a lot of time.”

“All right, give me a minute.”

Ada’s gaze shifted from Sadie’s back to meet Arthur’s, a light smile pulling at her lips. He returned it as his hand went to her arm again, squeezing gently.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Bye. Be safe, please.”

“I will.” His smile lingered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then he was turning and following after Sadie.

Ada folded her arms as she watched him walk away, her heart twisting slightly. He was eager to get back out there, to be useful, to save his brother, she understood that, but she’d only just got him back, what if—

No, no, don’t think about that... He’s with Sadie, they’ll both be fine.

Occupied, she needed to keep herself occupied.

Blowing out a breath, she headed back up to the camp, reaching it just in time to see them riding away. No one looked up, unbothered. It was like she could feel the very life had gone out of the camp, and she knew it couldn’t all be down to Molly’s death, though that was still going to be raw.

She found her few things on Arthur’s bed, grateful that whoever had set it up had taken the initiative and grouped their things together.

It was a lovely, strange mile-stone, a quiet acceptance of what they were.

How long would that acceptance last, though? She glanced up, trying to find if anyone was watching her but, again, people were unbothered.

It’s in their minds, though.

Stop it.

She pulled a blanket down across the small space, the garment acting as a curtain so she could change in privacy. With Arthur having ripped most of the buttons off of her blouse, not that she’d complained too much, though she had complained as they’d dressed, earning a smirk from him, she’d had to just wear the flimsy corset and her jacket, buttoning it entirely and praying they wouldn’t be stopped on the way back. It was a crisp, almost cold day but she and Arthur had moved quickly, having no difficulty in hunting the turkeys and then cantering back.

She pulled on a light blue blouse, one that she’d bought from a group of travellers she and Sadie had encountered, the colour reminding her of a shirt Arthur had.

She’d worn it the day he’d returned, almost like she’d known. Then again, she wore it nearly every single day so she couldn’t really put it down to fate.

After buttoning it, she brushed the blanket aside and stepped out, tucking the blouse into her trousers. She left her gunbelt and jacket on the bed, not planning on leaving the camp due to her mission, and there were plenty of guns around if trouble came.

Her gaze drifted to Dutch’s tent as she straightened the sleeves. The opening of it moved gently with the breeze and she could just glimpse him in there, lying on the bed, napping, possibly.

That makes this a lot easier.

She was planning on just sitting on Arthur’s bed and keeping her eyes fixed on the tent when Jack’s faint giggle drew her attention away, making her heart twinge.

Abigail.

Rounding the wagon, she found mother and son a short distance away from the camp, Abigail sat up against her tree, hugging her legs as she watched her son draw in the mud with a stick. Ada glanced back over her shoulder to Dutch’s tent.

He won’t move, and if he does then, well, guess I could start up that argument.

Abigail raised her head at the sound of someone approaching, twigs snapping beneath boots. Ada smiled warmly as the woman’s alert gaze met her own.

“Hey, Abigail.”

She relaxed a little, letting out a breath. “Hey, Annie.”

Ada sat down next to her with a soft groan, wiping her hands against her thighs, watching Jack along with his mother. He was drawing random shapes and swirls, then occasionally stabbing the mud with the end of the stick and giggling at the sound it made as he pulled it back out. A smile pulled at her lips.

“I’m gonna have to wash all his clothes, again,” Abigail sighed, prompting a soft laugh from Ada.

“Can’t you just leave them? From how frequently and earnestly he gets them dirty, I think it’s a strong choice.”

His mother huffed out a sound, maybe a laugh. “Can’t have him being too much like his father.”

Ada turned her head to her, her smile fading a little. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly.

Abigail kept her gaze on Jack, gripping her legs. “Arthur’s gone with her, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

She released a breath. “Good.” She nodded a few times then. “That makes me feel a little better.”

“That’s good.”

They fell into silence as Ada watched Jack, too, the boy now trying to squish leaves into the mud.

“How are you doin’?”

Abigail’s quiet, gentle question made her blink as her gaze returned to her.

“Me?”

“Yeah.”

She searched her features, finding genuine concern there, knowing there was more to it. So she took a chance.

“Abigail...” she began, lowering her voice even further, almost whispering. “... What Molly said, about me—”

Abigail took her hand, shaking her head. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it here, now.”

She swallowed lightly as Abigail squeezed her hand. “Okay.”

The other woman nodded then released her, hugging her legs again. Ada gazed at her for a few moments longer before looking back to Jack, playing with her ring. The small act of kindness was threatening to bring tears to her eyes. She couldn’t tell if Abigail believed it or not, but the very notion that she would listen, in time, bolstered her.

They sat in silence for a little while, both women thinking about the men they loved and not saying so for fear of upsetting the other. It wasn’t until the boy raced after a butterfly that Abigail sighed and pushed herself up with a groan.

“Come find me later,” she murmured before striding off after her son, her skirt billowing in the breeze.

Ada watched her go as she got to her feet, trying to ignore the twinge in her heart.

If anything happens, I’ll get them out.

Don’t think about that.

She made her way back to the centre of the camp, looking to anyone who might be watching, which they weren’t, as if she was just getting herself something to drink. She poured herself some fresh water from a wooden jug into a tin cup, taking a long drink, her eyes fixed on Dutch’s tent. He was still in there, still sleeping.

This was turning out to be a lot more boring than she’d expected. Swallowing the last of the water, she placed the cup down and wiped her mouth.

What to do, what to do, what to do...

...

Guess I could take a watch.

No one had taken over from Sadie so it left the small lane unguarded and, after the last couple of days, she could do with just one day of no bad surprises. Returning to Arthur’s tent, she pulled her jacket on and then secured her gunbelt around her waist before taking one last glance at Dutch’s tent and then heading around the wagon to the path.

It was quiet around here, almost eerily so sometimes, the only sound the rustling of the trees, some small animals, or the gentle rush of the river. Taking up Sadie’s position, she angled her back so it faced the camp and she could keep an eye on the other bank and the path that stretched ahead.

It took all of two minutes before her mind began to wander.

When they returned with John, and they would return, she’d insist to Arthur that they make a plan. She knew he wouldn’t just leave, not unless he knew everyone would be okay. The gang would have to be in a good position... or not a gang at all.

Increasingly, it was seeming like the latter was the way fate was taking them.

If only they could get some people to leave, others would then go, too... maybe if they got John, Abigail and Jack away—

She fell forward with a sharp gasp as something blunt collided against the back of her head, and the world went black.

—

“... stop it, I want that...”

“Nuh-uh, I gots my hands on it first!”

“That ain’t fair!”

“Shut up!”

Her head ached and her face felt wet. Slowly opening her eyes, she had to blink several times for her vision to focus. At first all she saw was leaves and trees, realising the wetness on her face was due to her cheek being pressed against mud.

“He said I could have what I wants!”

“He said we could have what we wants!”

Her gaze slid up to the two men sat nearby, one of them holding her jacket, the other her boots. Ah, that’s why she felt so cold.

Murfree Brood. They had to be. She’d never encountered them, but it was hard to not recognise them for who they were.

Something grabbed her foot suddenly and she gasped sharply, her head twisting to see what it was.

A third Murfree grinned at her, spit sliding out of the corners of his mouth. He laughed gleefully, gripping her ankle tightly. “Hey, lady, you got pretty toes, I’m gonna cuts off one little toe first, then all the other pink little toes, then I’m gonna wear ‘em as a pretty pink necklace.”

Oh, fuck...

“Hey, hey, she’s awake!” one of the other men said, the argument swiftly ending.

Gritting her teeth, her heart and head pounding, she tried to push herself up before realising her wrists had been tied together tightly. Too tightly. Her fingers were tingling from the lack of circulation.

“Pretty, pretty toes...” The Murfree holding her foot sang, his other hand searching in the pocket of his overalls.

The other two men stepped closer, leaning over her.

The one holding her jacket, patches of long, thin hair on his head, grinned, revealing missing teeth. “I’m gonna cut your hair, it’s so bright and pretty.”

Her gaze darted down as she suddenly felt the cold flat of a knife against her foot. The drooling man giggled, waving the knife. “I can’t wait to get me a pretty new necklace—”

He yelled in shock as her other leg lashed out and her heel struck him in the nose, sending him falling back. Grabbing at his face, he howled in pain, sobbing, and she tried to push herself up. The man with thin hair dropped the jacket and grabbed her shoulders, though, shaking her hard and making her already sore head spin.

“That ain’t nice!” he yelled, and she could hear the other man trying to console the crying one.

“Fuck off,” she hissed through her teeth, feeling queasy and cold.

“That ain’t nice either!” He shook her again and she closed her eyes tightly.

Then he dropped her and she grunted as her back collided with the ground.

“You okay, Den?”

The crying man whimpered in reply, blood seeping through the fingers he held against his face. The man who held her boots, his hair dark and balding, glared at her, baring his teeth.

The man above her huffed out a breath before lunging down, his arm sweeping out, and he scooped the knife up. Turning back to her, his other hand gripped the front of her shirt and he tugged her upper body off the ground, making her groan.

His face inches from hers as he leaned over, spit landed on her cheeks as he hissed, “I’m gonna cut your hair off and you’re gonna apologise to Den for bein’ a nasty bitch and then you’re gonna make it up to him and—”

Short gunfire erupted.

The Murfrees barely had time to cry out. She stared at the man standing over her as a bullet tore through his face, spots of blood landing on hers, and his grip instantly loosened on her as he died and then his body was crumbling, falling on top of her as she fell back.

Gasping out her breaths in shock as she landed, her eyes wide, she felt panic clawing its way up her throat as the dead man lay on her, his features now unrecognisable. Gritting her teeth, she grunted as it took three attempts to shove him off of her completely.

Sucking in deep, harsh breaths, she then went to turn over, wanting to see who had saved her, when a shadow fell across her.

“Fuckin’ inbred trash,” Colm O’Driscoll tutted, his gun by his side as he looked down at the body.

In her peripheral vision, she saw men moving behind him, going to the bodies and their little camp, but she just stared up at him.

Oh, fuck...

Holstering his gun, Colm’s gaze then shifted to her and he smiled. Bending at the knees, he gripped her under the arms. “Come on, darlin’, don’t wanna be hangin’ ‘round here too long.”

Hauling her up with a grunt, she winced, finding that her feet were so cold she could barely feel them as she stood.

“Jesus, you’re shiverin’. Hey, Zach, hand me that...”

A tall dark-haired man with a large beard picked her jacket up and tossed it to Colm who caught it and then draped it around her shoulders. She just continued to stare at him, silent.

He hummed as he removed a knife from his belt with one hand and gripped her arm with the other, keeping her hands out so he could cut through the rope. It took a couple of attempts but then her hands were free, and she hissed out a breath as she started to rub at the red marks they had left, blood rushing back into her fingers.

“These yours?”

She glanced at Colm as he accepted her boots from Zach, arching an eyebrow.

She nodded silently.

“All right.” He dropped them near her feet and turned away, his hands going to his hips as he surveyed the small camp, watching his men search the bodies of the Murfrees.

After tugging her jacket on, Ada then bent down and pulled the boots back on, tying them tightly. Her gaze darted about the ground, trying to locate her guns and gunbelt. They were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck.

Once she’d finished tying them, straightening, she still felt cold so she folded her arms tightly, trying to warm herself. Her eyes lifting, she found Zach stood a few feet away, watching her.

Probably making sure I don’t go anywhere.

Wonderful.

She still felt queasy, too, possibly from the knock to her head... and also the Murfree’s destroyed face which she was very much avoiding looking at.

“All right, let’s go, boys.”

The men, seven of them, started to move at Colm’s announcement, and the man himself approached her once more, nodding his head in the direction they were heading.

“Come on, darlin’, our camp ain’t too far away.”

He held an arm out, gesturing for her to walk first. She paused for a moment, before moving with a long exhale. What choice did she have?

He fell into step with her and rubbed his hands together, glancing at her with a smile. “We heard all the hollerin’ and fancied havin’ a little fun. Who’d have guessed what we’d come back with, huh?”

She remained silent.

“Oh, you ain’t gonna talk to me, is that it?”

Silence.

“Ain’t gonna thank your uncle for savin’ your life?”

Silence.

... and she felt very, very queasy.

“Ahh, that’s all right, I didn’t do it for the—”

She stopped abruptly and doubled over, vomiting onto the damp grass. Her eyes were shut tightly but she heard Colm let out a whistle before feeling a hand rubbing her back.

“Jesus, girl... All right, get it out...”

She heaved again but this time nothing came out, so she spat to rid the awful taste from her mouth, sucking in deep breaths. She was shaking and she didn’t know if it was from the cold still or from how peculiar she felt.

“Zach, can you...?”

She just had time to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand before she was suddenly swept up with a gasp. Staring at Zach as he carried her bridal-style, she tried to push herself out of his arms, albeit weakly.

“What are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ start, all right, just let the man carry you,” Colm sighed as they walked, Zach looking ahead and not saying a word.

She pressed her lips together, folding her arms, her body tense, but again... no choice.

The camp was only a few minutes away, and despite the current circumstances it felt good to have some time to try and breathe and settle her stomach. It gave her a chance to recognise the woodland, too. They weren’t too far away from Beaver Hollow, she thought, they couldn’t be, the sun was still relatively in the same position. She could escape, she could get back, maybe even before Sadie and Arthur returned. There’d be no need for him to worry, God, she didn’t want to worry him, not when they’d just got each other back.

The trees thinned out into a small clearing and the men broke off to either the fire pit or one of the three tents set up. Two wagons resided to the right and there were probably four or five men here, talking and laughing. She kept her arms folded tightly, her gaze darting between them.

“This way.”

Her eyes returned to Colm, staring at his back and watching him head to the smallest tent, Zach following him. A blonde man sat on a chair outside it, a small table next to him, though he quickly rose from it and trotted away as Colm neared, and as they approached Zach lowered her and set her down on it. She resisted the instinct to thank him, instead just keeping her mouth shut and staring at the ground. He turned and walked away instantly though, not waiting for gratitude.

Humming again, Colm picked up a cloth from the table and dunked it into a bucket of water, squeezing some out of it before turning to her.

As he gripped her chin with his free hand, she hissed as the wet cloth touched her skin, ice cold, which was the last thing she needed. He chuckled, continuing to wipe the specks of blood and mud from her face.

“I don’t think you could be any more pissed off with me, huh?”

She just looked at him, her features tight, jaw clenched.

He chuckled again, wiping hard at her skin. “Don’t tell me you’re the strong, silent type now, huh? I kinda miss you bein’ all loud and shouty.”

She didn’t saw a word, just let him clean her face, willing to make allowances now that she hadn’t been tied up again and he hadn’t demanded a ‘thank you’.

“What happened to your face?” he said after barely two seconds, gesturing at her scar.

The gentle tone of the question surprised her.

“Nothing.”

Damn it.

“Oh, she speaks,” he grinned, gentle tone gone, and tilted his head. “Dutch do that? Or one of his boys?”

She was already shaking her head, her brow dipping at the insinuation. “No, no... Pinkerton agent did it.”

“When?”

Well, I’m already talking and he’s not gonna shut up...

“When we had to escape from where we were staying, a place called Shady Belle.”

“Ah, yeah, I heard about that.” The grin returned as he wiped at her chin. “How is Dutch doin’? Heard he’s just come back from a nice trip.”

Exhaling a weary breath, she moved her head away from his grip, his movements pausing. “What are you doing here, Colm.”

He raised his eyebrows innocently. “Here? Just cleanin’ up my wayward niece.”

She wasn’t in any kind of a mood for this. “I mean this far east.”

Colm grinned, placing his free hand on his chest. “I’m here by invitation, darlin’. You met him, didn’t you, Angelo Bronte? Italian feller, greasy as they come?” She gave no reaction to the mention of the man who’d held Jack and she’d once been hell-bent on killing, but Colm was continuing anyway. “He extended a little invitation to me some time ago. I’d say it’s been a very prosperous relationship indeed, despite Dutch killin’ him which I’m pretty pissed about but, hey, from it I got Dutch cornered, got me better guns and business here, got my niece back—”

“You don’t have me back.”

He sighed, dabbing repetitively at her nose and making her pull her head back to try and get it away. “C’mon, join us, Adaline, it don’t make no sense for you to be runnin’ ‘round alone—”

She snatched the cloth out of his hand, wiping it against her forehead because it suddenly felt warm. “I’m not alone.”

He chuckled, folding his arms as he leaned against the table. “Ah, yes... your little affair with Arthur.”

She froze, her eyes darting to him. “What—”

He tilted his head. “That’s how we knew where you was campin’, darlin’, down at that big house, Shady Belle. Followed you back there after your stay at that fancy hotel. Kieran just decided to take a little walk at the wrong time—”

She rose to her feet, raging. “You bastard—”

His hand was already on her shoulder, easily shoving her back into the chair. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a bastard. I ain’t any worse than Dutch, though.”

She fell silent once more, folding her arms and staring out across the grass.

He laughed, and she didn’t think she could hate him any more. “Nah, you can’t argue with that. ‘specially with all the time you’ve been spendin’ with him—”

“Where’s Thomas.”

He blinked in surprise as her gaze met his, then smiled. “You believe me, then?”

She released another weary breath. “I just want to know the truth, Colm. I’m tired of it all.”

Her uncle shifted his stance slightly, tilting his head. “Well, he ain’t here.”

That was it, then, finally, what she’d known all along, he is dead, he—

“He’s out with scouting groups.” Her eyes met his again as he smiled. “Tryna get rid of the last of these Murfree fuckers. This is good land.”

She stared at him.

It had to be lies.

“You’re a sick man—”

He just spoke over her. “We’re regroupin’ soon, though, west of here.”

She’d had enough, again.

Standing, she smiled tightly. “Well, you can send me a letter when he gets back.”

She was about to stride away when his hand was on her shoulder once more and he pushed her back down, chuckling, it all too easy as she was still a little unsteady on her feet.

“Every time I forget just how damn funny you are.” He placed a hand on his hip, the other on the table as he looked at her. “You know you ain’t goin’ anywhere. Sooner you get used to it, sooner you’ll be happier.”

Smiling brightly, he then straightened and clapped his hands together. “All right, I’ll see if I can get someone to get you some food. Don’t you move, now!”

He strode away, whistling, and she stared at his retreating back, her lip almost curling into a snarl, her fists clenched. It had to all be a lie. Another game he was playing for his own, unknown amusement. It was all too convenient, Thomas not being here, meeting with him ‘soon’. What the hell did ‘soon’ mean, anyway? Well, she wasn’t going to hang around long enough to find out. Her gaze shifting from Colm, she played with the cloth in her hands, surveying the camp.

It was a mess in the most sparse of ways, if that was possible. Another table beside one of the other tents, what looked like it had maps strewn across it with a couple of tins and an empty glass bottle. A few blankets balled up here and there along with saddlebags, even more tins lying around. The wagons were half-filled with a few sealed crates and sacks filled with something she couldn’t identify, unevenly shaped. She could hear horses but couldn’t see them, they must be somewhere behind her or one of the wagons. The men sat around the fire, talking, sleeping or drinking. Zach was with them, watching her. Her eyes quickly left his and looked to the treeline. She could see a man there, guarding. If she just waited until it was dark then she could sneak out and hide in the trees and be back in camp by morning and then—

“Hello!”

She jolted, her head whipping to the side.

An Irish boy, well, young man, really, with shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair, possibly a few years younger than her, stopped abruptly, raising his hands as the grin faded into a sheepish smile. “Woah, hey, sorry. I forget how loud m’ voice is.”

She eyed him, still. “What do you want.”

His smiled widened a little more. “Nothin’, really, I just wanted to say hello.”

“Why.”

He was rather taken aback at that. “... Because it’s polite.”

She just continued to stare at him, trying to work out what his ulterior motives could be. He lowered his hands and took a few steps closer.

“I’m Peter, the camp doctor. And, well, I’m here for another reason, too. Colm wants me to have a look at ye.”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, taking a slight breath. “Sure, sure, he just wants me to double check.”

“I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, lowering his voice gently. “Look, I might be polite but I think ye know Colm always gets his way.”

Her jaw moved. Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Shrugging, she looked away, releasing a breath.

“Fine.”

Taking the granted permission, he took the last few steps closer and cleared his throat. “May I?”

She glanced at him and his raised hands and nodded.

“Thank you.” One hand settled on her forehead, the other on the back, feeling the small lump from where she’d been hit, which made her wince.

Fucking Murfrees. She hadn’t had time to think about it but now she did... what the hell were they doing so close to camp? Trying to take back their land? Shit, another thing to worry about.

“The bump should go in a few days,” Peter was murmuring, “Ye’re a little warm, too, but that could be from all the excitement.”

Lord, give me strength.

She raised her eyes to him. “Yes, because I’ve never experienced excitement before.”

He laughed sheepishly. “Yes, sorry, I bet ye have. Does ye’re head hurt?”

“It aches a little, yes.”

“I’ll get ye some water, you should be okay tomorrow.” He removed his hands and she looked at him, watching his nose wrinkle as he studied her. Smiling gently, he gestured at her face. “What’s this?”

She assumed what he was referring to. “A scar.”

He laughed nervously again and she probably would have felt guilty if she wasn’t so pissed off.

“Stupid question. How’d it happen?”

“A knife.”

“Right...” He cleared his throat, then pointed at her throat. “And this other scar? How’d this happen?”

“From when a man held a knife to my throat as Dutch van der Linde killed my father.”

There was a pause. It went on so long her eyes rose to look at him to see what he was doing. His mouth was moving slightly, a sympathetic frown on his features.

“I know about that. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She just hummed, his sincerity finally starting to make the guilt creep in.

“Does anywhere else hurt?” he asked gently after a moment.

“No.”

“You sure?”

Go easy on him.

Licking her lips, her eyebrows rose slightly. “My wrists ache but it’s fine.”

“Yeah, that’ll just be from how they’d had ye tied, it should have gone by tomorrow. Let me know if it doesn’t. Ye’re shakin’, too, lemme get ye a blanket...”

She watched him duck into the tent and come out moments later with a thick green blanket, allowing him to drape it around her. She was about to ease up a little more and thank him when his hand went for the cloth.

“C’mere, ye still got some blood on ye—”

She moved her hand away. “I can do it.”

He instantly drew his hand back, smiling lightly. “All right. It’s just on ye’re left cheek there.”

She began to wipe at it, expecting him to make some kind of an awkward, drawn out goodbye, but he just stood there, his hands clasped together.

“Can I ask ye a question?”

Guilt was still very much lingering so she didn’t want to abruptly turn him away. “Sure.”

“What’s he like?”

She paused in her wiping, taking a moment to fold the cloth. “Who?”

“Dutch.”

Ada exhaled a breath, having half-expected it. “I don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Was this his ulterior motive? Had Colm asked him to gain her trust and then enquire about Dutch? See what state he was in? She had no love for either men but giving information to Colm that might hurt Dutch was something she’d never do. Hurting Dutch meant hurting Arthur, unfortunately.

Peter was all apologies. “Sure, sorry, I was just curious.”

I bet you were... but maybe he just genuinely is.

Glancing at him, she then looked away again, staring at the ground as she twisted the cloth in her hands.

“What do you want to talk about, then?”

Why isn’t he going... Lord, please give me all your strength.

“I don’t.”

“Oh, all right.” The guilt came again at his crestfallen tone, but he brightened a moment later as she looked at him. “I’ll get ye that water and maybe somethin’ to eat, yeah?”

“That would be nice.”

“All right. I won’t be long!”

Watching him walk away, she took in a long breath.

You can be back at camp by morning, just wait until it’s dark and most of them are asleep.

Just wait.

—

The tent was to be hers that night, Peter told her when he returned with a bowl of tasteless stew and a tin cup of warm water. He said it with a smile, like it was a lovely treat. Looking at the state of the camp, it seemed like it was, though.

Situated a little way from the camp fire, they could still keep an eye on her, and she sat on the ground outside it, the blanket still wrapped around her, staring at the grass as darkness fell, lost in her thoughts, mentally mapping out the area and, depending on which main road she was closest to, the quickest way back to Beaver Hollow.

No one approached her or said a word, even Peter left her alone, having finally taken the hint, hopefully, but every now and then she’d look up and find Zach’s eyes still on her. She’d just return her gaze to the ground.

To them she probably just looked tired, dejected, resigned, but she was just biding her time, waiting for them to relax a little more, to drink more, to sleep, to leave longer gaps between when they looked at her.

She did feel odd, though, hot all over, almost feeling hot inside, the sensation having overtaken her rather suddenly about an hour ago, but maybe it was just the blanket. She kept it on, though, the night cold. Her head pounded still, too, but, as Peter had said, that would go soon.

She glanced up at the men. Colm was sat amongst them, smoking a cigarette and drinking from a flask, quiet, smiling, looking at each man as they spoke. Zach was beside him and, thankfully, for once not looking at her, watching the flame of his match as he lit his own cigarette.

A loud laugh went up suddenly from the group and she took her chance.

Pushing the blanket off, she crawled under the table and around the tent. She hoped they would just assume she’d gone in the tent, but she knew that was just wishful thinking; one of them would check, just in case, most likely Zach.

So, knowing time was precious and keeping low, she instantly ran to the trees, straightening only when she was several feet into the woodland. The density of the trees made it seem darker than it was but she hoped that would aid her.

Then she heard shouting from the camp. They had realised what had happened.

She kept running, bowing slightly as she went up an incline. It didn’t matter where she was going, she’d find her way back to Beaver Hollow, she had to, she had to get—

A bullet sounded, then more shouts.

“Don’t fuckin’ kill her!” she heard Colm thunder over the rest of the voices, sounding closer.

With a grimace, she tried to run faster, her leg starting to ache, head pounding, the odd feeling lingering no matter how many deep breaths she inhaled. The men were drawing near, though, she could hear them calling to one another.

“Here! She’s this way!”

Shit.

She was headed down the hill now, slipping slightly on the mud but she kept her footing. She could hear the river, close by, maybe only a few minutes away. If she got to it she could cross it, and then disappear into the trees there, or maybe even hide by some of the large rocks that were usually dotted along it, maybe she could bide her time and then—

Someone barrelled into her, knocking her to the ground.

Landing with a loud groan, her teeth slammed together, narrowly missing her tongue. The person was grabbing at her shoulders, trying to keep her down, but she was thrashing too much, trying to crawl forward as she hissed out sounds.

“Stop, stop it, okay, he’s really angry!”

Peter.

"Let me go,” she hissed, striking her elbow back and knocking him in the chest.

He grunted at the impact but was stronger than he looked, or was she weaker? She certainly felt weak, drained, even.

“I can’t, I’m sorry, please, the others are comin’, they won’t be as nice—”

“I have to get back,” she was hissing, still trying to crawl forward, kicking her legs back in an attempt to push him away.

Tears were pricking at her eyes as she thought about Arthur, imagined him returning to camp, unable to find her, no one knowing where she was, what he would be thinking.

I have to get back to him, I just told him I love him, I can’t leave him, I can’t—

Peter’s weight was suddenly off of her and she released a breath, but before she could surge forward, one hand gripped the back of her jacket and an arm slid under her and then she was hauled up and on to someone’s shoulder.

Zach’s.

He was instantly walking, heading back towards the camp, his arm like a vice around her lower back, keeping her in place. That didn’t stop her from trying to push herself up, though, her hands gripping at the back of his jacket, her legs kicking out again. He didn’t move or say anything, just continued walking, and her struggles were useless.

Why was she so drained?

She could hear the rest of the men catching their breath or coughing out curses, not entirely delighted at having been made to unexpectedly sprint through the woods. She ignored them, trying to blink the tears away because the last thing she was going to let happen would be Colm seeing her cry.

He was angry? Good. So was she, but she would bide her time until she got the upper-hand because, God help her, she would.

Zach halted abruptly and when he set her down, surprisingly carefully, she turned and found they were back at the camp, the fire glowing to her right. It didn’t have her attention, though, because a foot away stood Colm, flask in one hand, finger tapping against it, resting his weight on one foot, his other hand hanging by his side, cigarette resting between his fingers.

His gaze was fixed on her, hard, unreadable. She held it, her chin lifted, breathing even.

What had he expected?

His tongue ran over his teeth and then he turned his head to the side, hawking and spitting. Tilting his head, his voice was light.

“If you try that again I will keep you tied to a post, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Taking a drag on the cigarette, he nodded leisurely a few times before dropping it to the ground and pressing it into the damp grass with his boot.

“Well, all right, then.”

His hand suddenly lashed out, slapping her. It wasn’t particularly hard but the surprise of it was enough to have her already unsteady legs falling from beneath her. Zach caught her arms in time, though, holding her up, and she swiftly shook one of his hands off so she could raise her own to her stinging cheek.

Hissing out breaths through her teeth, shaking from what now she didn’t know, her eyes tracked Colm, the man having already turned away, watching him move back towards the fire to join his men.

“All right, where was we, then,” he called out loudly, resuming his seat as they continued their conversations like nothing had happened, their backs to her.

Zach was still gripping one of her arms so she wrenched it out of his grip, though she knew it came free more from him allowing it than her own strength.

“I think it’d be best if you went to sleep.”

She stiffened slightly at his voice, American, deep but quiet, and for some reason it made the tears return to her eyes. Sniffing, she dropped her hand from her cheek and swallowed hard. Without saying a word, she turned and moved past him, heading for the tent. If she’d deigned to look at the men around the fire she would have found Peter watching her, regretful, torn.

Stooping and entering the tent, taking the blanket she’d left at the entrance with her, she settled on her knees, letting the flap fall closed behind her. It was tiny, only enough space for her to lie down and maybe lay a few items next to her. She only had her jacket and boots. She just removed the jacket, and realised as she did so that her shirt was sticking to her skin, a light sheen of sweat covering her. Had the run been that strenuous?

Lying down on the bedroll, it was thin but it’d do, she pulled the blanket over herself, rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes, willing sleep to come quickly.

Tomorrow would be a new day.

Tomorrow she would come up with a plan.

Tomorrow she would leave.

—

The next morning she could barely move. Her entire body ached and she felt hot and cold all at once, shaking.

Peter, thankfully, was the one to come and check on her when she didn’t emerge, guilt still troubling him. Taking one look at her, guilt turned to concern and he placed the back of his hand against her forehead.

“Think ye got a fever,” he murmured, pressing his lips together. “Nothin’ too serious I don’t think, but we’re gonna have to wait for it to break.”

Ada just nodded slightly, her throat too sore for her to speak.

“I’ll get ye some water and see what medicines I’ve got, all right?”

He smiled gently before exiting, and she just felt like crying.

Just let me go, just take me to a doctor in town, I don’t want to be here...

“She ain’t up yet?” Colm, stood right outside her tent by the sounds of it.

To no surprise, so was Zach. “Peter says she got a fever.”

“What? Awh, shit...” She heard him hawk and spit. “... We’re still movin’ on today. You and Peter look after her, do what you can, keep up.”

“Will do, boss.”

She heard Colm walk away, whistling to himself.

A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. They were going to move on, taking her further away from Beaver Hollow. And with how awful she felt... It could be days before she could even sit up without feeling queasy. She’d had a couple of fevers before as a child, could remember how awful she’d felt for days, how her mother had tended to her, had tried to soothe her as she’d cried, wanting to play with her brother.

Peter returned then with a small bag and a skin of water, and she was suddenly struck with how young he was. Maybe even still a teenager. What the hell was he doing here as a doctor? Could he even look after her properly?

She licked her dry lips and swallowed, wincing with the motion. “Take me to the doctor in town,” she rasped.

He glanced at her, and she thought she saw guilt in his eyes before he resumed looking through his bag. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Please...” she murmured, and she thought she had him when he paused again, his eyes closing briefly.

“Ada, I can’t,” he whispered, placing his hand over her clammy one unexpectedly. “I’m sorry but I can’t and ye know it. But I will take care o’ ye and ye will be fine, I promise.”

She just looked at him, knowing her eyes were shining. She didn’t care, now, if she cried, she just felt so awful, every single part of her aching.

“Pete, we got ten minutes then we gotta go,” Zach called, and Peter’s hand left hers, quickly going through his bag.

“All right!”

He had her drink some kind of a tonic, the thick, syrupy, sugary taste of it nearly making her gag.

“I think you just got t’ sweat it out, all right?”

‘I think’ didn’t fill her with confidence.

She nearly burst into tears when Peter helped her sit up and shifted her to the mouth of the tent so Zach could reach in and pick her up. Her body hurt so much but she knew Colm wouldn’t make any allowances for her. Knew even if she hadn’t tried to escape last night that he still wouldn’t have.

She was placed in one of the wagons on a pile of blankets, another one placed over her, and Peter sat in with her as Zach drove it. She stared up at the white canopy of the wagon, feeling every stone and dip the wheels of it went over. It felt almost like a dream, to the point where when she closed her eyes and fell asleep and did dream, she was still lying in the wagon, but now her mother was at her side, fussing and stroking her hair from her face.

“You’ll be all right, you’ll be okay, Mama’s here, darling...”

Peter pretended not to notice when, after she awoke only a few minutes later, the wagon jolting her out of it, silent tears poured down her cheeks.

She didn’t know how many days passed, the fact they moved every day not helping. Whenever she was awake and somewhat lucid, she was either in the wagon with Peter at her side, or in a tent. It sometimes took her a while to work out if it was real or not as her dreams were so vivid.

Her mother came to her often, humming a lullaby like she used to, telling her she’d be all right soon, that the weather is improving. Sean came, too, asking her what the hell she was doing, why she was wasting a perfectly good sunny day when she could be out robbing, making him proud. He was always smiling.

Then there were the dreams she had about Arthur.

Sometimes, she thought she could feel his arm around her, or his voice was in her ear, murmuring to her that she was okay, she was fine, he loved her even though she was a sweaty mess.

Then sometimes he’d be at the other end of the tent, asking where she was, why she was here.

No matter who came, though, they always looked slightly off, like it was them but wasn’t them. Her mother’s eyes were a different colour, Sean smiled differently, Arthur was expressionless, his voice bland.

Several times she thought she’d died and was in hell.

What she wouldn’t remember was Peter sat by her side for most if not all of it, hearing her mutterings and murmurings, hearing her mumble to people who weren’t there, barely able to make out what she was saying. Sometimes he’d have to place a hand on her shoulder to keep her still as she thrashed a little, telling her quietly she was all right, she was okay.

Zach was the only other person to visit, bringing Peter food and water for him and Ada. Sometimes he could get her to eat, when she was having a lucid period, could get her to have half a bottle of a tonic then some water before she’d be out again.

He thought about changing her out of her sweat-soaked clothes, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he placed fresh garments he believed would fit by the opening of the tent, in case she woke in the rare times he wasn’t there.

And he kept watch, keeping his promise of looking after her.

—

When she awoke, she knew something was different.

She wasn’t hot or cold, just normal. She could see and hear properly, her body didn’t ache. She felt drained still but nowhere near as much as before. She was so thirsty, too, and hungry; she could feel her stomach groaning in protest.

Staring up at the roof of the tent, she just took in a few, even breaths, hoping this wasn’t a dream.

“Oh, hey.” Her gaze dropping sharply, she found Peter sat just outside the slightly open flap, smiling widely. “You’re awake.”

As he ducked his head into the tent, she swallowed, feeling like nails were in her throat.

“Water,” she croaked.

Peter paused, raising his eyebrows a little. “What?”

“Water.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry...” His head ducked out before it returned again moments later, and he leaned in, offering her a skinful of water.

Pushing herself up, her arms shook a little but her head was fine. Accepting it, she took long sips, her eyes closed. She could feel Peter watching her, but it wasn’t until she finally lowered the skin that he spoke.

“You okay?”

She wiped her mouth with her fingers as she looked at him. “Little hungry.”

“Yeah, you’ve not eaten much, but this is good, means you’ve got ye’re appetite back.” He was grinning now, thoroughly pleased. “I’ll get ye somethin’—”

“How long?” she asked just as he started to turn away.

He understood what she meant, his features softening. “A week.”

She nearly felt sick.

“A week?” Her already hoarse voice cracked on the word.

Fuck... We could be anywhere by now.

Peter smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, ye... It wasn’t the worst I’ve seen but it was pretty bad.”

Ada just nodded, her eyes on the blankets covering her legs, trying not to cry. She heard Peter shift slightly.

“Do ye still want somethin’ to eat?”

Clearing her throat, wincing, she shook her head. “It’s all right, I’ll come out and get something. I could do with some fresh air.”

“Yeah, I think that’ll do ye good.”

There was a slight pause in which she met his gaze, and then she allowed a faint smile to lift her lips. “Thank you, for looking after me.”

He shook his head, returning the smile. “It’s all right, no need t’ thank me. ‘m just glad ye’re okay.” Pointing at a corner near him, he continued, “There’s clothes for ye here, they should fit. I’ll be by the fire.”

Before she could thank him again he was gone, the tent flap closing.

Closing her eyes, she ran a hand over her hair as her head bowed, feeling how dry it was but ignoring it for now.

A week.

They could be on the other side of the county, or in another one, miles and miles and miles away. It hurt her unbearably to think of Arthur, to think of how he must be feeling, what he was even doing. Would he be out looking for her? Would gang business keep him away? What if something awful had happened to them all?

She couldn’t cope with it, not now, not with how fragile she felt, so she shoved it to the back of her mind, focusing instead on something smaller; food.

She took her time changing into the odd assemble of black, pinstripe trousers and brown, faintly checked shirt. They were a little big, but once she’d tucked the shirt in and used her belt to tighten the trousers she deemed that they would do. Pulling her boots on, she then neatly folded her beloved blue shirt and her own trousers, and placed them on the bedroll. After running her fingers through a few knots in her hair, she took a breath, licked her dry lips, and moved out of the tent.

She was rather stiff as she straightened so she just stood for a few moments, rolling her shoulders and neck. As she did, grimacing, she surveyed the new camp. They were on top of a hill on a flat patch of grass, and for miles and miles all she could see was the tops of trees, nothing distinguishable anywhere. She took in a breath, fighting the faint feeling of panic that was starting to build.

It’s all right, you can find your way back to him, you will get back to him...

Is he even alive.

Stop it.

She didn’t want to think about that, that the mission to get John might have been unsuccessful. That any of them could have died.

Exhaling a breath, she looked towards the fire pit. She estimated it must be morning, a couple of hours until noon possibly, and the camp was quiet, a few men still sleeping. There were more blankets and saddlebags dotted around so she assumed they must have picked up some more O’Driscolls along the way, wherever the hell they were heading. She saw no sign of—

“Well, look at you, you made it.”

... Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

Turning her head, she watched Colm approach, tin cup in his hand, the other in his pocket, a lazy grin on his lips. It wasn’t until she saw him that she remembered he’d slapped her. It shouldn’t have surprised her but it had; despite the man he was she’d gotten the sense that he wouldn’t lay a hand on her, yes, even despite the fact he’d had her tied up previously. She’d thought there was some part of him that really did care for her, in his twisted way. What a fool she’d been.

She eyed him warily now, grateful that he stopped a few feet away, sipping his coffee.

“I did.”

The grin lingered. “Good, I would’ve hated to waste time buryin’ you.”

You bastard.

“Come on, boys!” he suddenly called out, in such a loud tone that some of the men sleeping jerked awake and she flinched. “We’re goin’ west to meet with the others.”

His gaze shifting to her, he smiled over the rim of his cup.

She knew what the smile meant; Thomas was supposedly going to be there.

Not giving him a reaction, she asked flatly, “When is this regroup happening.”

He shrugged a shoulder, still smiling. “Couple days.”

Fine. Just a couple of days and then she would have the truth.

—

They travelled for another week.

She would have thought it was on purpose if they didn’t move on every single day. They were always moving, heading west she could tell by the sun, but still a week passed with no sign of a regroup.

And so Ada was forced to acclimatise to what life was like in an O’Driscoll camp.

It was nothing like Dutch’s where there was community and cohesion; here there was no organisation, she was more than certain the men stole from each other, and they found food and drink for themselves. A few would go hunting together and share what they killed but beyond that, nothing. From eavesdropping she gathered they were conducting business as they went, trading, bartering and killing when they stopped at night. She never saw any of it or was asked to go with any of them, though; both not trusted and not allowed to do anything, stuck between being a captive and their boss’s niece.

So with nothing to do, not even a book to read, all she could do was sit and watch and stare and think. Sulking, Colm called it once with a laugh, which just made her press her lips together and made her look like she was sulking even more.

It felt like torture, left with nothing but her thoughts.

She asked Peter if she could assist with anything but he was so adamant that she rest, so polite that he wouldn’t allow it, that to save herself from screaming she just gave up asking. She did sit with him, though, needing something, anything, to do, and she learned from his never-ending stream of consciousness that he had just turned twenty one and only recently come over from Ireland, his father, now a doctor, having known Colm in a former life. So Peter had arrived here, with a letter from his father, and asked around until he found them, and had been welcomed with open arms; there was always limbs to be reattached and wounds to heal. He was excited to be in America, giddy, even, and he either hadn’t witnessed was the O’Driscolls did, ignored it, or was frightened because he didn’t say a bad word against them, didn’t even raise a minor gripe, even when a few jokes were made at his expense. It was nice to make conversation with someone, though, to distract her, and he had saved her life.

She spent all the daytime hours with him, and he eventually did allow her to roll bandages and repair them, though that was it. When they travelled she would sit in a wagon with him, almost bored to tears as they took turns pointing out things they saw.

Zach watched her constantly, even when she bathed in any rivers or lakes they came to, but he never leered, never stared, never even spoke, just stared at a part of the water near her so she was in his peripheral vision, and then above her head when she got out, even though she’d opted to keep her underclothes on. That was useless, though, as they just stuck to her body, but there was no one around to see; no one dared sneak a peek. She quickly realised the men both deeply respected and were kind of afraid of Zach, and she didn’t think it was just to do with how tall he was. He was silent, muscular, and had huge revolvers strapped to his belt and she didn’t doubt that he very much knew how to use them. He shared his food and drink with her, he seemed to have an endless supply of tinned goods, and they sat in silence together, which she didn’t mind one bit. She did murmur a thank you every time, though; she was her mother’s daughter.

His ever watchful gaze gave her no chance to slip away.

At night, tears would trail down her cheeks at knowing Arthur was out there, her heart aching unbearably. What if he thought she was dead, his heart breaking all over again. Would he give up? What if he was grieving her. Spiralling, doing stupid things in disbelief and anger. The darkest, cruellest parts of her mind whispered to her that what if he thought she’d gone, disappeared when she’d had the chance. She was aching to get back to him so much it hurt.

On the fifteenth night of being their captive, she was keeping count now, with the second week spilling over into a third, these insecurities and anxieties swirling in her mind yet again, she sat outside her tent, staring at the ground sullenly.

Zach was sat on a chair a few feet away, whittling something and smoking on a pipe. Peter was asleep a short distance to the right, snoring softly. A few men were talking around a fire some way off, but other than that it was quiet. That’s what surprised her most about the O’Driscoll camp; the quiet. She’d expected raucous laughter, copious drinking and shouting, insults flung this way and that but, no, the men spoke to who they wanted to talk to and got on with what they needed to. Part of her wondered if this was why Colm chose these men to be around him, for the quiet. Maybe they were just the best listeners, the ones least likely to disagree.

Her thoughts lingered on her uncle. He’d barely spoken to her since she’d recovered, only grinning when he caught her eye or bidding her a cheerful good morning or evening when he passed. Other than that, she didn’t see much of him and she liked that just fine. She was... apprehensive of his company now, knowing he wasn’t beyond physically hurting her if she disobeyed him. It made her all the more anxious for whenever there would be this regrouping; who better to make an example of than his own niece?

She couldn’t even think about it, the prospect of being around more O’Driscolls, ones she knew for certain would be rowdier than this group... and also finally knowing Thomas’s fate.

She knew it already, though; he was dead.

Once it was confirmed she was going to leave by any means necessary, but not before—

“Hey, darlin’.”

She caught herself before she flinched. Lifting her eyes, she found Colm sauntering closer, smoking. The apprehension grew; she’d learned that any conversation with him didn’t turn out well.

He coughed and then took a drag, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. “You better get some sleep, we’re all meetin’ up tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Part of her believed he was actually telling the truth this time.

Her eyes followed him as he passed, smiling. “You’re gonna need all your energy for seein’ your brother.”

I hate you.

Her teeth were clenched so tightly. She didn’t believe it. It was a cruel trick he was playing.

And she was going to kill him for it.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat, @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @ntlmundy

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darksaphire2002 · 4 years

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👅: top 5 kinks/turn ons 🍀: do you have good luck, bad luck, no luck at all, or do you make your own 🛍: favorite store(s) [online//physical] 🧸: your main/favorite toy growing up, why 🚬: bad habit you want to break 🎮: the greatest time you had playing a video game 👹: 6 things someone would put in a pentagram to summon you 😱: biggest fears

Oh my... okay, here we go lol!

1) My kinks lol. This is both a fun one, and a scary one to admit because y'all are gonna get a glimpse of just how freaky ya girl Saph really is, so here we go:

• Blindfolds

Blindfolds are probably my #1 kink. There's more excitement in the mystery of what comes next than there is in the anticipation of expecting something you're familiar with.

Please, only do this with people you TRUST.

• Fire play

I enjoy being set on fire. Lol I know it sounds crazy for people who have never heard of the idea, so lemme break it down for you. You coat the area you wish to set fire to in 100% alcohol and ignite it. The fire will only burn the alcohol and not your skin.

This of course can go very wrong very quickly, so DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES try this at home by yourself. If you're curious, go to your local dungeon (trust me, they're around) and set up a tasting session with someone who is familiar and practiced with this particular kink. It doesn't hurt and it feels amazing!

• Monster kink

I mean...this one is self explanatory. Ninja turtles, sentient slime monsters, lizard men, vampires I love all monsters, but I draw the monster fucking line at zombies and mindless killing machines.

• Violet wands (electro stimulation)

Violet wands are a lot a fun and a great starter kink to satisfy even the freakiest of sensual adventurers. They have interchangeable glass heads of various shapes that send out controlled jolts of electricity across your skin. Some heads use more electricity than others, so it can go from a soft tingle, to a jolt of pain very quickly. So it's important to start slow. But it's fun.

• Pumps

This was a hard one to pick, and let me tell you, it's not for the feint of heart. Pumps can be used on male and female genitalia and can be taken to both extreme and soft measures.

The purpose of a pump is to draw the blood to the area of choice, making it much MUCH more sensitive than usual. The area will swell up and, in prolonged use (not recomended,) will engorge.

I don't usually take it quite that far, but you get the point lol.

2) Do I have good luck, bad luck, no luck at all, or do I make my own...

I suppose it has to do with the scenario really. For example,

• Say I'm playing a game of blackjack at the casino: That can be either good, or bad luck.

• Say I wanna date Tom Hiddleston: Absolutely no luck whatsoever.

• Say I'm being attacked by a man in an alley and there happens to be a baseball bat in my hand: I'll make my own damn luck and start swingin.

It's all about perspective. >;)

3) Favorite stores!

Okay, I love shopping. I have tons of favorite stores, but I'll try to narrow it down for you:

• ebay!

This is more for fun, but if you're looking for a laugh, check out their miscellaneous section.

• Amazon.

Amazon is my go-to for the majority of my shopping. If I can't find it in person, I'll find it for a quarter of the price here.

• Ross

I'm a fluffy girl, so my fashion stores are limited, but if you're looking for a good deal, Ross is the place to go. Nearly all of my streetwear clothes come from Ross.

• Rosegal

Rosegal is an almost identical site to Rose wholesale, the site I was originally gonna post, but they are closing down. Lots of good bargains here for women and curvy girls.

• Ranch 99 Market

Okay, so this is actually a grocerie store, BUT I LOVE IT. It's an Asian food market that carries everything from rice cake to fresh fish to durian fruit (gross!) They have everything you could ever want by way of exotic nummies. If you can find one in your area, check it out!

4) Favorite toy growing up?

Hmm....that's a hard one to remember because I grew out of toys at a very early age, but if i had to pick one....I'd have to say it was this round stuffed goose that my mom got me when I was very young.

It was eggplant shaped, white, fuzzy, and had no wings. Only two flat stuffed feet and a big orange bill. The backside of the animal was stuffed with fluff and plastic beans so it made that beanie baby sound when you hugged it. When I was a baby (4-5ish) I would chew on its bill for comfort until there was a bald patch on the fabric lol.

Her name was Jemima.

5) Bad habit I want to break

Okay so I'm not sure this is so much a bad habit as it is a part of my autism, but I have a tendency to talk a lot about certain subjects that I'm momentarily interested in and it can be off-putting for people.

I like to learn about everything in my spare time, so if a topic I'm knowledgeable about comes up in conversation, I tend to get a bit chatty. Not everybody minds this, but I sometimes make people uncomfortable and I hate that about myself.

6) The greatest time I had playing a video game?

Alright, so I'm not really much of a gamer. I have a PS4 and a SN emulator on my computer, but I don't really play a lot of games. I'm more of an "outdoor with a book" kind of person.

But I absolutely LOVE Kingdom Hearts, Final Fantasy, and Yoshi's island. I got into those when I was younger, that probably why lol. A lot of the newer games don't really pique my interest as I have a difficult time sitting I front of a screen for so long.

But I will tell you a story about the time my friend made me play Until Dawn (fuckin scary ass game holy shit.) It was a scene where you (the player character) had to break into the family cabin and let the other members of your party in from the outside.

Okay, so no scary shit is happening yeah? We're exploring the cabin, trying to find a way to let the other characters in, and for some god awful reason, I decide to look under the sink in the downstairs bathroom.

A fucking wolverine jumps out from under the sink and scares the shit out of all of us.

IT WASN'T EVEN A SCARY PART! I screamed so hard and chucked the remote at my friends head for making me play. She laughed at me.

7) Six things someone would put in a pentagram to summon me?

Hahahaha okay this is a fun one:

• 2 litre bottle of Pepsi

• 1 green Bad dragon dildo

• A copy of Out of the Shadows

• A booklet of memes

• Lobster w/garlic butter sauce

• A box of daifuku mochi (peach mochi can be used as a substitute)

8) My biggest fear.

I have three. Spiders, heights, and losing my mom. I won't elaborate on them as they're pretty self explanatory. But yeah. Heights make me pee.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

That was a fun one!! LOL I hope I answered all your questions well enough ^_^

Thanks for the ask!

Btw, @ravn-87 you're next lol

#darksaphire2002 #ask

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tommyplum · 4 years

Photo

- tis the saison | tommy/alfie, modern au for @boundinshallows’ sholomons prompt fest 2019

Nobody much cares for holiday parties, but everybody's got to go to them nevertheless. Tommy Shelby's no exception, much as he would like to be. .

notes: takes place in the same modern au as eggplant peach question mark - maggie

"Tell me one more time that you don't want to go, Tommy Shelby, and I'll not only send Arthur round to drag you there, I'll buy you a Christmas jumper with mistletoe pinned to the hem and sit back and laugh at the thought of you jumping around the room like a scalded cat trying to avoid being kissed on the cock."

"Christ Almighty, Pol." Tommy rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, using the heels of his shoes -- currently hooked up on the edge of his desk -- to drag his wheeled office chair forward. "Giving me a little too much credit, aren't you?"

"Giving the other attendees of the liquor board holiday party too little, more like it." Polly's voice sounded amused and warm, even over the tinny speakerphone. "Thomas, you know I usually take on party duties, but it simply can't be helped this year. You're going to have to represent for us. It won't be so bad! How many distributors can you have slept with already?"

Tommy felt it was quite admirable that he had the grace to just let silence stretch between him and speakerphone Polly in answer to that question. Pol, however, didn't seem to share his viewpoint on that.

"Oh, hellfire, Tommy! It's a wonder you get any fucking work done at all, I swear to God."

"Look, I'll go, I'll go. I won't like it, but I'll go." He used his heels to push himself away from the desk, drag himself close again, bony knees accordioning up on each approach as he chewed a thumbnail and mentally totted up the likely suspects he'd be running into over fusion dim sum appetizers and rounds of whatever vodka blended drinks were on the themed menu. "Might even make it out of there unscathed."

"You're a horror." Polly paused, and then said, "--Alfie Solomons is going to be there this year. He said since we were clear that it's a holiday party and not a Christmas party, he felt at peace in his devotions with dipping a toe in the secular festivities. He literally said those words."

Tommy grunted, thumping one shoe down onto the floor. "So what? So he's religious. I've seen you twirl a rosary or two in your time, Aunt Pol."

"Shut it. Don't fuck anybody."

The dial tone followed this warning, and Tommy ended the call on his desk phone. With Alfie Solomons around being the cock-blocking arsehole he'd more than once proven himself to be, Tommy thought sourly, there wasn't much chance of his even being able to disobey Polly's orders.

---

Hour One of Holiday Representation Hell consisted of two tremendously terrible courgette gyoza, a peach-and-satsuma nightmare of a blended drink, and two elderflower ciders in quick succession to rinse out the taste of both. It also consisted of Tommy smiling and nodding as a number of representatives of small labels that wouldn't see next year paraded themselves past him, pressing flesh and telling him their names with voices of great import. Tommy made jokes that didn't land half the time, but watched them all laugh anyway.

Hour Two of Not-Christmas Carnival of Nonsense saw the introduction of wasabi cheese straws (somehow more tasty than the gyoza, and Tommy had one in his mouth at all times through that hour), another cider, and a few shots of green apple soju. Luca Changretta followed him around for at least twenty minutes trying to sell him on fruit wines, and Tommy finally promised to try his blueberry merlot before hiding in the kitchen for the rest of the hour and feeling up one of the servers through her sensible cotton pants. She ate the rest of his cheese straw and he retreated once the coast was clear.

Hour Three of Whatever It Was, the peach-and-satsuma nightmare had become much more tolerable with the addition of most of a bottle of peach schnapps, and Tommy watched a short parade of those small label representatives conga out the back door.

"What are they called?"

Tommy blinked, raising his eyebrows as he turned and found Alfie Solomons standing next to him, munching a wasabi cheese straw as if it were a stalk of hay and himself the laziest cow in the pasture. "Pardon? What? What are who called? Make sense, Alfie."

Alfie snickered and nodded at the tail end of the line. "They all gave you their names when you glad-handed them, love, and you looked oh-so-terribly interested in each one. I'll give you five pound and a kiss if you can tell me the name of even one of the poor blighters."

"Why would I bother to remember their names?" Tommy said, irritated, and looked around for where he'd put down his drink. "It's a party. Bad manners to expect proper business at a party. If they had any sense they'd give me business cards."

Tommy spun back towards Alfie, startled to find the man's fingers delving into one of the back pockets of his jeans … and extracting a little sheaf of business cards. "You mean these?" Alfie said, then laughed and pitched them in the air. Tommy made no move to stop him, only groused, "The serving staff won't thank you for that, Mr. Solomons."

Alfie made a noise that Tommy would swear he'd heard a high-fantasy tree make in a movie once, and took Tommy's hand in his own -- warm, surprisingly deft, with a crown tattoo near the thumb that Tommy'd somehow failed to notice before -- and brought it to his lips. For one heart-stopping moment Tommy thought the daft bugger was going to kiss his fingertips, but all Alfie did was brush the very end of his nose above Tommy's fingers and intone, "...and you've already ingratiated yourself to the serving staff from the aroma of it, eh, darling?"

Eyes blazing, Tommy snatched his hand back and rubbed it against his shirt. "Pick those up," he snapped, pointing at the cards scattered on the floor. "Really, Alfie. Some fucking manners."

A low chuckle followed on Tommy's heels as he marched away, in search of a fresh drink and maybe some fresh air. His face was feeling awfully hot, for some reason, all of a sudden.

---

Hour Four of the Wonderful Year-End Festivities found Tommy performing his best booze-related trick for a captive and somewhat plastered audience: lopping the cork off a bottle of mid-range champagne with a short saber brought expressly to the party for that purpose. Tatiana shrieked with triumph when he managed to pull off the feat, champagne geyersing from the neatly broken neck of the bottle in dry-scented frothing excitement, and flung her arms around his neck to claim a very wet and vodka-fumed kiss.

"All Tatiana's idea, I assure you," Tommy told the remaining celebrants as they applauded him and he brandished both bottle and saber around. "In fact she's the one planned this whole party. A round of applause, ay, for Tatiana?"

The gathered people obliged, and Tommy handed off the bottle but kept the saber as he trailed over to the decimated cake in the shape of a squat beer keg and used the sword to hack off some frosting for himself. He bore it carefully outside, using a case of bottled water to prop the door open, and leaned against the railing of the stairway landing to swipe his thumb through the clot of frosting and stick it pensively in his mouth.

The party hadn't been that bad, all told, apart from that fucking courgette repeating on him and the hopeful looks some of those nameless reps had been shooting him all night. The server girl with the sensible knickers had caught his eye and it was clear she'd be up for it, if he wanted a go. And she was pretty, with curly hair dyed some sort of pale purple and a snub nose and freckles across her dark skin.

But, Tommy thought bleakly as he bit frosting from his thumb, there was just something … wrong. Something missing. And the thought of ending the night as he'd ended so many others, making the trek back to his quiet, junk-filled flat with a bottle of gin to fall exhaustedly asleep on the settee and wake up to dry toast and jelly, it was … well, it was depressing. And Tommy was getting heartily tired of feeling depressed.

He lifted the saber with the thought of bringing it whooshing down again so that the gobbet of frosting on the end would sluice off, somewhere down three floors to hit the ground, but a hand grabbed his wrist and -- dammit -- here was Alfie Solomons again, peering at Tommy in the dim light. "Steady on, sweetie," Alfie said, "don't want to disappoint the cleaners more than you already have, eh?" He nodded towards the party, now in its decided downswing. "That girl you had as an aperatif has gone off with one of the Young Bolsheviks--"

"Young Turks, you mean?"

"No, red's back in fashion, it's very woke to talk about the evils of capitalism at the drop of a knitted hat these days." Alfie grinned, twisting the saber out of Tommy's unresisting grip and scraping the frosting off on the railing before sliding the sword into his belt.

"Ridiculous," Tommy said, although whether that was about the saber, Alfie's wearing it, or his farcical claim about young people and their politics, he didn't care to draw a bead on. But that hollow feeling had eased, somehow, and Tommy was suddenly in no hurry to get back inside. "You don't look the slightest bit drunk. Have you turned teetotaller, Alfie?"

His companion shrugged, heavy shoulders rolling under t-shirt and plaid. "I don't get sloppy at company hurrahs, love," he said. "Hard to erase that picture when you're back at the grindstone trying to cut deals with suppliers and distributors. I save my getting squiffy for when I'm with friends."

"And you've got some," Tommy scoffed. "Friends."

"Not all the ones I'd like." Alfie reached into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt and pulled out a cellophane bag tied with twine, holding it up by the cinched bit to swing in front of Tommy's face before Tommy took it and opened it, taking out one of the rings inside and laying it in his palm before looking at Alfie, perplexed.

"What's this?"

"Oh, come on now, Thomas -- I know you Shelbys grew up the ragamuffins on your street, but surely even you, the benighted orphans, had biscuits once in a while? A chocolate finger or two? A fucking Jammie Dodger on the High Holy Days or whatever your kind celebrates when you're not busy moaning and rending your garments?"

Tommy scowled, closing his hand over the bag and -- just barely -- easing up his grip enough not to crush the remaining rings of cookie it held. "High fashion party rings," Tommy said after a moment of studying the one in his palm. Begrudgingly. The damn thing had flower petals as decoration. He looked up at Alfie. "Why on earth--"

--and then he was being kissed, and Alfie tasted somehow of fizzy lemonade and smelled of cake frosting and hops, and his hand was cupping Tommy's jaw (so deft! Who would have thought) and stroking the crest of his cheekbone with one thumb. His mouth is like a peach, Tommy thought stupidly as he breathed and opened up and swayed into Alfie's space. Or maybe a satsuma.

Alfie's lips closed and he smiled, not moving away, staying close with Tommy in his space. "Been wanting to do that all fucking night," he rumbled. "Longer, if I'm honest."

"Make some fucking sense," Tommy said, because damned if he was gonna give in that easily to this. He curved his palm enough that the scalloped edges of the delicate biscuit nipped slightly at his skin and said, "you never liked me. I never liked you. It's a happily mutual distaste we've maintained for each other."

Alfie made a hurt, indignant noise. "You wot! I know for a fact that I've been nothing but lovely to you, sweetie, sheer loveliness on a sodding stick."

"You're in my phone as 'that loser who keeps texting me,' and I'm in your phone as 'how about no.'"

Alfie considered this for a moment. "Aside from that." He laughed and took Tommy's hand, curling his fingers over into a fist until the biscuit he was holding snapped, in one place, then two, then crushed into more pieces than Tommy could tell without opening his hand to look. "Don't tell me you'll let a little thing like that stand in the way of what could be a bloody mind-blowing shag for the both of us, Tommy. After I brought you a little prezzie and all."

"Which you've just ruined."

There's three more." But Alfie looked fainly contrite, letting Tommy unfurl his hand while still keeping his own beneath it. Tommy sniffed and tossed his head imperiously, the smell of sugar seeping up from the warmth of his palm.

"How about no," Tommy said, and ducked his head, licking up crumbs and icing and petals like a horse nosing around for a sugar cube, licking the gritty bits down onto Alfie's fingers, grabbing his wrist and turning his hand over, sucking down hard on that crown tattoo as he listened to Alfie sucking in his breath like a dying man.

Straightening, Tommy slid his tongue against the roof of his mouth and swallowed, lips parted, eyes hooded as he regarded Alfie steadily. "Did you pick up those business cards like I told you?" he asked, voice low and measured, thrumming in his throat. "Like a good little boy?"

Alfie reached into his back pocket, crumbs and spit smearing against his jeans, and brought out the slightly crumpled wad of cards, holding them pinched between thumb and forefinger. "Mmmm," Tommy hummed, and knocked his hand against Alfie's wrist, sending the slips of cardstock fluttering over the rail as he grabbed the back of Alfie's neck and kissed him, deep and wanting, all thoughts of shame or restraint sent down to the ground three floors under.

A beat passed, and then Alfie growled, the saber clatering against the concrete barrier when he shoved Tommy against the wall, hips crowding in against him, cock thick and promising when he rolled his groin into Tommy's and felt the answering rise there. "That loser, eh?" Alfie muttered, nipping hard at Tommy's jawline. "I'll make you eat those words along with the rest of your biscuits, pet, see if I don't before the night's through."

"You can make me do whatever you want, Mr. Solomons," Tommy said primly, knuckles white as he gripped the back of Alfie's belt, clung to the back of his collar, cellophane crinkling into the nape of Alfie's neck. "Dip your fucking toe into the secular festivities."

"I'll be dipping more than that, Tommy," Alfie said, with a firm thrust that drove Tommy's breath right out of him.

Maybe he'd have to ask Pol where he could find himself one of those mistletoe jumpers.

/end

#peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #sholomonsfest2019 #tolfie #i feel sort of bad for monopolizing the prompts so far #erk #sorry guys

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argyle-s · 6 years

Text

THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME CHAPTER 36/38

Rating: Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Susan Vasquez is not paid enough to put up with everything that happens in this chapter. Guest staring Lena Luthor.

Thanks to @ifourmindbeso for her great work as a beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Chapter 36 - Fallout

Lena looked up from her desk in annoyance as the door to her office opened, but the annoyance vanished as she saw Sam, replaced immediately by a smile.

“Hey,” Lena said.

“Any idea what the Secret Service detail is for?” Sam asked as she walked across the office to sit down in one of the chairs across from Lena.

“I think they’re actually US Marshalls,” Lena said. “I can’t get any kind of clear answer, other than that the President ordered the protection detail personally.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Lena agreed. “It’s nice to see a friendly face, though.”

Sam sighed. “I kind of hate that you said that when I’m here with bad news.”

“More?” Lena asked, her eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline. “This should be thrilling.”

“Someone bought LuthorCorp out from under us,” Sam said.

“What?” Lena asked. “Who?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Sam said. “The SEC filing for the notice of intent went through at about 11:15 AM Eastern this morning. By 11:45, Danvers International held fifty-three percent of the voting stock. I haven’t had time to do a forensic analysis of the stock transactions, but we’ve known for a while that something funny was happening with the purchase patterns. My guess is, they’ve been buying through subsidiaries and shells for months.”

“Danvers International?” Lena said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither has anyone else,” Sam said. “I looked. It was incorporated about a year ago. It has exactly one employee, who holds the position of Chairman of the Board, CEO, COO, and CFO. There are one-hundred shares of privately held stock, all owned by that same employee. Someone named Kara Danvers.”

“Who the hell is Kara Danvers?” Lena asked.

“Hell if I know,” Sam said. “The only Kara Danvers I can find is the head of the Supergirl Social Media Group at CatCo, who was Cat Grant’s assistant up until about two weeks ago.”

“Could it be the same person?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve got an investigator looking into it, and it would sort of make sense, because we’re not the only ones Danvers International is trying to buy.”

“Who else are they going after?” Lena asked.

“CatCo, Galaxy Communications, Lord Technologies, TychoTech and Queen Consolidated.”

“That’s quite a list,” Lena said.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “All vulnerable right now, all with depressed stock prices.”

“Odd mix, though,” Lena said. “Lord Technologies might be a good fit with CatCo and Galaxy. I could even see raiding LuthorCorp to get at the LexTel assets.”

“Could it be the Super connections?” Sam asked.

“Maybe,” Lena said. “Though I don’t recall any connection between Queen Consolidated and Supergirl or Superman.”

“I’ll keep looking,” Sam said, “But as much as I hate to say it, I think you should look at the Tender Offer. Even with Lex’s shares, we won’t be able to hold the company.”

“I’m not ready to give up just yet,” Lena said. “See if you can get a hold of this Kara Danvers. I’d like to talk to her before I make a decision. I mean, assuming the Marshalls will let me go to National City.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Maggie walked through the police station, head held high, daring anyone to say so much as a word to her as she carried the banker’s box filled with the meager contents of her desk towards the front door. She needn’t have bothered. No one looked at her. No one wanted the taint covering Maggie Sawyer to splash on them.

Fuck every last one of them.

She’d known of course. Every police departments had corrupt cops. It’s something you hate, and you live with. Some cops, and Maggie was one of them, would drop a dime to internal affairs when they saw it. Some cops would call you a traitor for that, but Maggie had decided what kind of cop she wanted to be before she ever joined the force. Had decided when a good friend of hers had disappeared for three days, only to turn up, beaten and bruised. The cops who did it were never caught. Never faced justice. After all, who was going to believe a gay black prostitute who said a couple of cops had beaten him up?

She’d known, and she’d signed up anyway. She’d moved up fast, made detective, made it into the Science Division. She was thirty-three years old, and she was holding her own. She made good busts, did good police work. She helped where she could. Kept aliens who weren’t hurting people out of cells., kept gay kids out of trouble, and absolutely destroyed anyone who threatened either of those communities, and she HATED dirty cops with a passion.

She could never quite talk herself into making the jump to internal affairs. They’d asked three times, but the streets were Maggie’s passion. The streets were where she could help people like her. The outcasts, the misfits, the rejects. Out on the street, Maggie Sawyer was the thin blue line that stood between the vulnerable and the monsters, in and out of uniform.

And then came Kara Danvers, with her sunny smile, and her sympathetic ear, and a sister she couldn’t stop talking about. Kara Danvers who could fly, and shoot fire from her eyes, and blow the arctic wind from her lips. Kara Danvers who cared, just as much as Maggie did. Kara Danvers, who had finally introduced her to that sister, who was everything Kara had promised she would be. The sister who made Maggie’s insides melt every time she smiled. The sister who, just a few nights ago, she found tasted like peaches, and smelled like apples, and moaned just so.

Kara Danvers who was from the future. Who had lived through a vicious, horrible war, and walked away from the woman she’d loved and had chosen to die and risk having to go through it all again, just for the chance to make things better. Kara Danvers who risked everything to save the life of a woman who’d belittled her and scorned her, not because it was the smart thing to do, or the right thing to do, but because she couldn’t bear the thought of someone getting hurt because of her. Kara Danvers, who was too kind and gentle and compassionate to be someone who’d seen her world die, and spent over a decade fighting a hard, bitter war.

Maggie didn’t regret it. Not for a second. She loved Kara. Kara was her sister, in heart if not in blood. And Maggie had seen enough cases get rigged to know exactly what was about to happen.

Maggie had known there were crooked cops in the National City Police Department. She just hadn’t realized that the Chief was one of them. And the Commissioner. But she wasn’t stupid, and she’d seen the writing on the wall, clear as day, so she’d made a choice to protect Kara in the only way that would stick. She’d talked to the press, and she’d let Leslie talk to the press. She’d let the press see Kara and Leslie standing there together, and even if the Chief and the Commissioner tried to walk back what she’d said to the press, there was no way in hell the DA would press charges. Maggie had spiked the case against Kara irrevocably. She’d poisoned the well.

And all it had cost her was her job, her pension, and her future.

The orders had been specific. Hold Supergirl and Willis until the Captain arrived. He would take over the case. Simple as that, Maggie knew. She’d called Alex, told her what was happening, and they’d worked out a plan. Then, she’d lied to Alex for the first time. She’d told her it would be okay, and she’d get a slap on the wrist, maybe a couple days’ suspension, but Maggie knew what would happen. She could tell by Alex’s tone that Alex didn’t believe the lie any more than she did.

In the end, Maggie didn’t try to fight it. Her union rep’s arguments on her behalf were perfunctory, and when it was over, Maggie had just tossed her badge on the desk and left without a word. She’d just packed her desk and headed for the parking structure.

She used her key fob to pop her trunk and tossed the banker’s box inside. The two bullets slammed into her back as she reached up to close the trunk. The shots were positioned perfectly. Two 9mm hollow point Plus P rounds dead center.

They should have killed her instantly. They should have severed her spine, torn through her heart, and blown out her sternum. Except that Kara had ordered Konex to replace all of Maggie’s, Alex’s and Susan’s clothes weeks ago with Kryptonian fabric which was designed to stop a micro-meteor hit at orbital velocities.

Maggie didn’t feel a thing, but the parking structure was like an echo chamber, and even with the silencer, the sound of a gun was distinctive. Her hand dropped, brushing aside her jacket and drawing her Glock even as she turned. Her would-be assassin stood there, staring at her in disbelief, even as Maggie squeezed the trigger.

Alex jumped slightly when her phone started playing Mr. Roboto. She turned away from the security plan she was looking over, and pulled out her phone, swiping to answer it.

“Hello,” Alex said.

“Lady Alex, Maggie has been attacked,” Konex said.

“What?” Alex said loudly enough that everyone in the DEO command center looked up from what they were doing.

“She was shot in the back twice at close range,” Konex said.

Alex physically recoiled from the words, fear twisting in her gut like a knife.

“She is unharmed,” Konex said. “Lady Kara had me replace her entire wardrobe with Kryptonian barrier cloth several weeks ago, but she requires assistance immediately. Normally, I would contact Lady Kara, however, I believe her presence would make the current situation worse.”

Alex felt relief flood into her when Konex said Maggie was okay, but she knew she had to get to her now. She had to protect Maggie. That was the only thought in her head, overriding everything else.

“Konex, can you transmat me?” Alex asked.

“Of course,” Konex said.

“Do it,” Alex said, ignoring the startled look on Susan’s face as Alex drew her gun.

The first thought to go through Susan Vasquez’s head when Alex drew her pistol and vanished in a flash of light right out of the DEO’s command center was “why the fuck does this shit always splash on me?”. She gave herself about five seconds to wallow in her self-pity, before she turned around and started barking orders.

“Reynolds, Tsung, I need two strike teams full kit, in the Blackhawks five minutes ago. Come on people, move like you’ve got a purpose!”

She turned to Wilson, who was at her normal station. “We’ve got a situation. Get me details.”

She reached for her phone, taking it out and unlocking it, then tapping Konex’s contact and hitting the call button.

“Agent Vasquez,” Konex said.

“Report on Agent Danvers’ status,” she snapped.

“Maggie was attacked in the NCPD parking structure. She was shot in the back twice at short range. However, at Lady Kara’s instructions, all of Detective Sawyer’s clothing had been replaced with garments made of Kryptonian barrier fabric. The barrier fabric prevented injury, but Maggie was forced to kill her attacker. Given the situation, I believed it best to contact Agent Danvers instead of Lady Kara.”

“Good call,” Susan said. “Wilson, I want those strike teams at National City Police Headquarters parking structure yesterday.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said.

“Konex, put me through to Supergirl,” Susan said. There was a brief pause before Kara answered.

“Hey, Susan,” Kara said.

“Kara, where are you?” Susan asked.

“I’m with Cat,” Kara said.

“Okay, good. I need you to stay where you are. Do you understand?”

“Susan, what’s going on? Where are J’onn and Alex.”

“Supergirl, I need you to listen to me,” Susan said. “This is adult supervision talking. Do you understand?”

There was a moment of silence, then Kara said, “Yes. Adult supervision. Stay where I am, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Susan said. “Konex will brief you. I have to go.” She hung up the phone and shoved it into her pocket. “Wilson, get me President Marsdin.”

“On it,” Wilson said.

Susan stood there, waiting as the minutes ticked by, until President Marsdin’s face appeared on the screen.

“Agent Vasquez, where is acting Director Danvers?” Marsdin asked.

“Maggie Sawyer’s been shot, ma’am,” Susan said.

“What?” Marsdin asked, disbelief written on her face.

“My understanding of the situation is she took two rounds at close range. She’s unhurt, to the best of my knowledge, but she had to kill her attacker. I have Supergirl on lockdown, and two rapid response teams are heading for the Blackhawks now, but Director Danvers made use of certain technology in Supergirl’s possession to travel to the scene and render aid. We’re waiting for an update, but Madam President, I am not at all comfortable with you travelling to National City at this time.”

“I understand your concern, Agent Vasquez, but the situation is spiraling-”

“No, ma’am, you clearly do not understand the goddamned situation, or you wouldn’t be walking into it. They shot a fucking police detective inside of the NCPD Headquarters parking structure. That’s after they tried to beat Leslie Willis to death in her home and pin it on Supergirl. This entire city is a fucking powder keg, and you aren’t a match, you’re the Goddamned Olympic torch. Either divert your flight, or I am going to take it under my own authority as acting director of the DEO, in Director Danvers’ absence, to enlist the aid of anyone I see fit to prevent this from turning into an absolute shit show. Am I clear, ma’am?”

“Perfectly, Agent Vasquez,” Marsdin said. “I understand Superman is still in National City at this time.”

“He is, ma’am.”

“Can you contact him?” Marsdin asked.

“I can.”

“Do so. See if he will agree to meet and escort my flight,” Marsdin said.

“Understood. Vasquez out.” Susan didn’t wait for a reply, she just reached for her phone, and dialed Konex again.

“I need to talk to Superman,” Susan said.

Alex materialized in the parking structure with her gun ready and turned immediately toward the sound of a surprised gasp, only to find herself staring down the barrel of Maggie’s gun.

“Jesus, Danvers,” Maggie said, quickly lowering her weapon. “I could have killed you.”

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, looking around, taking in every shape and shadow. “Konex said you’d been shot.”

“I’m fine,” Maggie said.

“Thank God,” Alex said, and without thinking about it, she stepped forward and pulled Maggie into a crushing hug. “You scared the hell out of me.” She felt Maggie hug her back, and a bit more of the terror that had hold of her loosened.

“I scared the hell out of me,” Maggie said. “But Konex was wrong. The guy missed. I heard the shots, turned around and popped the guy.”

“Maggie,” Alex said, finally letting go of her, “take off your jacket.”

“What? Why?” Maggie said.

“Because he didn’t miss,” Alex said.

Maggie frowned and holstered her gun, then shrugged out of her jacket and turned it around, looking at the back of it. There were two grey lumps stuck to the back.

“What the hell?” Maggie asked.

Alex reached out and peeling one of the lumps away from the jacket. “Bullets,” she said. “Same thing happens to Kara’s cape sometimes when she gets shot in the back at close range.”

“But how?”

“Konex said Kara has provided you with protective clothing,” Alex said. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“No,” Maggie said.

“DROP THE WEAPON!” A voice yelled.

Alex turned her head, and spotted two cops, both men, standing there, weapons out.

“Easy,” she said as both she and Maggie raised their hands. “I’m a federal agent, and she’s a cop.”

“I SAID DROP THE WEAPON!” one of them shouted.

“I said, I’m a federal agent,” Alex replied.

“I don’t care if you’re the fucking pope, drop the damn gun,” the cop replied.

“I am going to holster my weapon, then I am going to reach for my ID,” Alex said.

“You are going to drop the damn gun, right-”

“TOH SNUG!” a woman shouted from the shadows.

Both of the cops shouted and dropped their guns, waving the hands frantically as if they were burnt.

“Dloc snug,” the same woman said, this time in a much softer tone. Alex looked toward where the shout had come from, only to see a woman in a tux and tails step out of the shadows, shaking her head. “You boys really should learn some manners. Kcirb llaw.” She waved her hand as she spoke the last two words and a brick wall appeared, blocking the cops from view.

She turned toward Alex and Maggie. “Are you Alex Danvers?” she asked.

“Um… yes?” Alex said as she lowered her hands and holstered her gun.

“Zatanna Zatara, at your service,” she said, before bowing to them. “Your sister thought you could use some assistance.

Alex and Maggie looked at each other. “What is it with your sister?” Maggie asked.

Alex just shook her head.

“You’re sure everything’s good?” Susan asked.

“Assuming I don’t shoot one of these assholes, I think we’ll be okay,” Alex said.

“So, fifty-fifty?” Susan asked.

“Shut up,” Alex said, but there was amusement in her tone.

“Shutting up, ma’am,” Susan said.

“I don’t know how quickly I’m going to be able to shake us loose,” Alex said.

“Anything I can do to help, ma’am?” Susan asked.

“Just make sure the security is set for the President’s visit,” Alex said. “I’ve got Konex putting together everything we can find on this John Corben guy, but this whole thing stinks. I think right now the only reason Maggie isn’t in cuffs is that I’ve got twelve guys with Tevor assault rifles and two gunships parked on the roof.”

“I’m on it, ma’am,” Susan replied. “See you soon.”

The video feed cut, and Susan turned around, only to jump at the sight of Leslie Willis standing right in front of her.

“I will say this for Supergirl,” Leslie said, “she sure knows how to find the hot ladies.”

“How did you get in here?” Susan asked.

“Easy,” Leslie said, then she vanished, leaving behind only an arc of lightning jumping from where she was standing, to a spot on one of the catwalks, where she reappeared. She leaned down, resting her arms on the hand rails of the catwalk. “You know, when Supergirl said I was going to have powers, I thought it would take me forever to learn to use them. I had the whole thing in my head. There was a training montage, me in a sports bra and yoga pants punching a heavy bag and looking fabulous, me fighting Supergirl, me frying Supergirl with lightning. The soundtrack was Come With Me Now by Kongos. It was a thing. But this…”

She disappeared, and a lightning bolt struck the ground in front of Susan, leaving Leslie standing in front of her. “This is like breathing. I don’t even have to think about it. I can feel the electricity flowing around us. It’s calling to me, like music.”

Susan frowned, not at all liking where this was going. “Are you okay?”

Leslie nodded. “It’s a… It’s like a really good high,” she said. “I’m wired, and I need to do something.”

Susan was going to kill Kara. Really, she was.

“I tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t I have Kafel take you down to the firing range, and you can try blasting a few targets? Sound good?”

Leslie nodded. “I can work with that,” she said. “Get in some practice for when we find this Henshaw guy.”

Susan waved Kafel over. “Take Miss Willis down to the special ordinance firing range,” she said. “The Heat Vision settings should do.”

Kafel nodded and headed for the range, Leslie in tow.

Susan watched them leave, then shook herself as she realized where her eyes had been focused. She must be a lot more stressed than she thought. She’d only been single a month, and she usually had to have a dry spell of at least six months before she was reduced to staring at straight girls’ asses.

Being the adult sucked.

J’onn stared down at the board in front of him, trying to find a way out of the trap he’d been so skillfully lured into, and had to admit there wasn’t one. He reached forward, and tipped his king over, conceding the match.

“You’re a fast learner,” he said.

“You are a capable teacher,” Astra replied. “But truth be told, you give me more credit that I deserve. The game is similar to one we played on Krypton. A bit simpler. /,mizrhosh,levrrosh,/ works in three dimensions.”

“I should teach you Go,” J’onn said. “Kara loves it. Says it reminds her of /,:divi,chao,dovrrosh,/.”

Astra smiled. “She loved that game,” she said. “From the moment I taught her. We played for hours.”

“Was she any good?” J’onn asked.

“No,” Astra said, her smile growing a bit. “I love my niece, but she has no patience at all.”

“She might surprise you,” J’onn said.

“I find you surprising, son of Mars,” Astra said. “Most would be angry, were they in your situation.”

“I knew this day would come,” J’onn said. “A secret like mine can only be kept so long. Oh, it might have held, if Henshaw had really died, but once I knew he was alive, this moment became inevitable.”

“Tell me, does my niece still deceive herself into believing we will be freed?” Astra asked.

“You will be,” J’onn said as he began to reset the board for another game. “One way, or the other.”

“That sounds ominous,” Astra said.

“It should,” J’onn said. “If Marsdin doesn’t keep her word, your niece will tear this place apart to free you.”

“And then?” Astra asked.

“War,” J’onn said. “A long, terrible war.”

“I do not wish that for her,” Astra said, as she made her first move.

“War is coming,” J’onn said. “If not with the humans, then with the Oans and the Apokoliptians.”

“You sound sure of that,” Astra said.

“As sure as I am that I’m sitting in prison.”

“Very sure than,” Astra said. “I trust the irony doesn’t escape you.”

“It doesn’t,” J’onn said. “The humans even have a phrase for it. ‘A prison of your own making.’”

“And yet, you still have hope.”

“I do,” J’onn said. “It’s a byproduct of spending time around the Danvers. They have ways of working miracles.”

“Well, J’onn J’onzz, let us hope you are right. I would very much like to have a word with this man who’s cast doubt on my niece’s good name.”

“You and me both.”

Susan stood at attention as the President walked into the DEO command center, wondering not for the first time what on Earth she had done to deserve a day like this. Superman was only a few steps behind her, and there was a vague look of fear on his face. Given the expression on Marsdin’s face, she couldn’t say she was surprised. If Marsdin has looked at her like that, even a month ago, Susan probably would have run and hid under her bunk. Somehow, though, the prospect of being responsible for stopping the end of the world made her worry less about the President being pissed at her.

“Agent Vasquez,” Marsdin said, and her tone did nothing to hide the anger behind her eyes.

“Acting Director Vasquez,” Susan corrected.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t apologize,” Marsdin replied.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t apologize for calling you a damn stubborn fool,” Susan shot back, making Superman, and at least two members of the secret service team wince.

“Well, I suppose there’s no questioning your bravery,” Marsdin said.

“I’m trying to keep you alive, ma’am,” Susan said. “I don’t appreciate anyone adding to the difficulty of that task. Even you.”

Marsdin relaxed, just a bit. “I suppose that’s a fair sentiment, Director, but I don’t believe I have any choice. If what we’re doing is to succeed, we all have to accept a little risk.”

“With respect, ma’am, you could have signed the paperwork in your nice, safe office three thousand miles from the fucking war zone I am trying my best to manage.”

“I could have, but I could not have appeared on stage with Director Henshaw, General Astra, and Supergirl.”

Susan took a deep breath. “We could have arranged that, actually,” Susan said. “Or, at least, Supergirl could have. But it’s done. You’re here. How would you like to proceed?”

“First, I’d like an update on the situation with Detective Sawyer,” Marsdin said.

“The situation is still in flux,” Susan said. “Detective Sawyer called us this morning to inform us that she believed the National City Police Commissioner and the Chief of Police were attempting to railroad Supergirl. She had a signed statement from Willis confirming Supergirl’s innocence, but the Commissioner and the Chief ordered her to hold Supergirl, and a contact she had in the DA’s office confirmed that charges were still being prepared. Detective Sawyer headed this off by making a public statement confirming Supergirl’s innocence, and then allowed Willis to speak to the press. The Commissioner fired Detective Sawyer for insubordination and disobeying a direct order. Detective Sawyer turned in her badge and cleared out her desk. While loading her belongings into the trunk of her car, a known assassin for hire named John Corben shot her from behind with a silenced Glock 9mm. Detective Sawyer was wearing low profile body armor of Kryptonian design when attacked, and as a result, was unharmed. She drew her weapon, which she was carrying under cover of a civilian carry permit and shot Corben twice in the chest. Acting Director Danvers was notified of the incident by an automated monitoring system and took advantage of a piece of Supergirl’s equipment to travel immediately to the scene and make sure Detective Sawyer was safe. I dispatched a pair of strike teams as back up and assumed command of the DEO in Director Danvers’ absence. I notified Supergirl of the situation, and ordered her to remain in place, however, she contacted one of her assets, a sorceress named Zatanna Zatara to render aid. Zatanna arrived in time to prevent two National City Police Officers from taking Danvers and Sawyer into custody. The situation has since devolved into a jurisdictional pissing match between the NCPD and the DEO. The NCPD wants jurisdiction because the attempt was made on NCPD property. We are claiming jurisdiction because Sawyer is a credentialed consultant for us. Of course, we’d be better able to press the claim if we weren’t having to claim to be FBI, but for now, there’s nothing we can do about that situation.”

“Well, that I can help with. Once we’re done here, get me an office, and I’ll make a call.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Susan said.

“What about the arrangements for the signing?” Marsdin asked.

“Progressing. We’ve been holding off on securing a venue, however. We have no idea how far our enemy’s intelligence reaches, so we want to save that for the last minute. At the moment, we haven’t even informed NCPD that you will be in town. That’s why I insisted Air Force One land here.”

“How quickly can we have this done, Director?” Marsdin asked.

“Unsure. I’d say one o’clock, but it depends on how quickly we can find a venue.”

“As fast as possible, please,” Marsdin said.

“Understood,” Vasquez replied. “Brody, set President Marsdin up in the office next to the one Major Lane is using.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the response as a young agent stepped forward. “This way, Madame President,” she said, leading the way towards the office General Lane used when he was there.”

Susan waited until they were gone, then pulled out her phone and dialled Kara.

“Susan, is Alex okay?” Kara asked.

“She’s fine,” Susan said. “Quick thinking with Zatanna. Alex was impressed.”

Kara snorted. “Is that what they’re calling it now,” Kara said, amusement in her voice. “I’d worry that Maggie would notice how impressed Alex was, but Maggie’s probably too busy being impressed herself.”

Susan smiled for the first time in hours. “Having seen Zatanna, I’m pretty impressed too, but that’s not why I called. I need your help.”

“What’s happening?”

“Marsdin is in National City,” Susan said.

“WHAT? No. Oh, Susan, whose dumb idea was that?” Kara asked.

“Hers, and I’ve already told her it was a horrible idea,” Susan said.

“Can’t J’onn do something?”

“J’onn’s not available,” Susan said.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Susan said. “Just, I need a safe venue where Marsdin can hold a press conference. She’s going to sign the Amnesty act, then sign the pardons we’ve prepared, along with a couple of executive orders. Once it’s done, our hands will be untied. We can go after Cadmus. But she has to live long enough to sign them.”

“Do it here at CatCo,” Kara said. “Short of the DEO building downtown, it’s the most defensible location in National City.”

“Um… No offence Kara, but CatCo Plaza is a giant target.”

“It would be, if I hadn’t spliced an Omegahedron into the power system and installed defense field generators around the CatCo building months ago.”

Susan blinked as her entire thought process blue-screened for a moment. When it came back online, she just shook her head.

“Kara, I could kiss you right now,” she said.

“At least buy me dinner first,” Kara said, laughter in her voice. “We have a studio on the twelfth floor that should be large enough. I’ll get working on it. No motorcade though. You keep Oliva there until it’s time, and we’ll do a site-to-site transmat.”

“Got it,” Susan said. “See you soon.” She hung up, and slipped her phone back in her pocket, then started making preparations while hoping like hell no-one told Kara that J’onn had spent the last few hours in lock up, and that two of the pardons in question were for Susan and Alex.

Christ, today was a shit show, start to finish.

Bruce muted the sound coming from the batcomputer, and leaned back, staring unseeingly at the screen.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Bruce asked.

“Positive,” Barbara said. She was sitting at the workstation next to him.

“We’ve checked everything three times,” Tim said, from the other side of where Bruce sat. “The money trails are incredibly well covered, but the initial deposit was done in nineteen ninety-eight.”

“There was about fifty billion in accumulated assets by the time Kara got hired at CatCo,” Barbara said. “But that number has grown about three thousand percent in the last fourteen months.”

“I don’t get it,” Tim said. “I thought she arrived in two thousand three.”

“She did,” Bruce said. “I tracked her from the Fortress while Clark went out to intercept the pod.”

“Then how is this possible?” Barbara asked.

“I don’t know,” Bruce said, “but we need to find out. Can you get me a physical location on where the transactions were coming from?”

“Up until October of last year,” Tim said. “After that, the connection becomes much harder to trace. Victor might be able to run it down, but we haven’t been able to trace it.”

“That makes sense,” Bruce said. “According to Clark, that’s around the time she set up her own Fortress.”

“Well, before that, everything was coming from this building,” Tim said, pulling up a map of Keystone City, and zooming in to a small building in the industrial district. “I’ve pulled everything I can on it. The property taxes are paid by a property management service, which also pays a maintenance crew to keep the place up to code. Twice a year, an IT subcontractor goes in and upgrades a server rack and checks all the network connections. The old computers have their hard drives replaced before they are donated to a charity which does IT for community centers in low income areas of Keystone, Central and National City. The old hard drives are shredded. There’s a security company that drives by twice a night and monitors an alarm system, but there’s no onsite security. The only thing odd about the place is the amount of internet bandwidth. It’s been steadily upgraded over the years. Right now, it’s at one-hundred gigabits per second, symmetrical.”

“That’s a lot of bandwidth for a single server rack,” Bruce said.

“What do you think it means?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know,” Bruce said.

“This is Kara we’re talking about,” Barbara said. “Why not just ask?”

“Because something doesn’t add up,” Bruce said.

“Because we don’t have all the information,” Barbara said. “Hence the asking part.”

“She has a point, Bruce,” Tim said.

“I think I might need to take a trip to Keystone city,” Bruce said.

“Or I could just call Kara,” Barbara said. “Look, I have my phone, right here.”

Bruce hit the intercom button. “Alfred, call and have the jet prepped for a trip to Keystone city.”

Barbara leaned over, so she could see Tim past Bruce. “Why is he like this?”

Tim threw his hands up in the air. “Repeated head trauma?”

Translated from the Kryptonian:

,mizrhosh,levrrosh, Advance - Retreat

,:divi,chao,dovrrosh, light and shadow

#supergirl #supercat #supercanary #sanvers #fanfiction #the shape of things to come #kara danvers #alex danvers #cat grant #maggie sawyer #sara lance #j'onn j'onzz #susan vasquez #lois lane #clark kent #james olsen #winn schott jr.#future shock

19 notes · View notes