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lizamango · 3 years

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Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 4/?

A/N: Yay I’ve managed to bang out another chapter before I get too busy this weekend. This is seriously the slowest burn fic I have ever written!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies, @yaszx

Word Count: 3117

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~

Warnings: cursing

Chapter Summary: Steve trusts you and you face the Winter Soldier

Chapter 4: IT WAS ALL A LIE

I wake up in a new car with Rogers driving.

“Where are we?” I ask groggily.

“Goin’ back to DC. Goin’ to someone I trust,” he responds keeping his eyes on the road.

“Didn’t realise you had friends. Other than me, of course,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood even though we almost got blown up.

“So we’re friends now, huh?” he says, playing along.

I shrug but it causes a pang in my side and I hiss at the pain.

“You alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t have enhanced speedy healing but I’ll cope. Give me an ibuprofen and I’ll be good as new.” I sigh, staring out the window.

“You sure that’s not an act to distract me from the fact you called me Steve and not Rogers or Captain?” he says, teasing.

I roll my eyes dramatically. Of course he picked that up. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Whatever you say… friend. Pal. Buddy,” he chuckles, amused at his own joke. Like a grandpa.

“Oh my gosh, anyone ever tell you you’re really annoying?”

He quiets down and the mood shifts notably. More somber. “Someone did.”

I frown, I thought he didn’t have anyone special… The car comes to a stop and before I could ask for more, even though I know he wouldn’t give it, he gets out of the car.

“Where are we, really?”

“Trust me.” I do.

I follow him up the steps and he knocks on the door. I look around, suspicious and skeptical, the sound of the door opening brings my attention to the owner of the house. Huh, the guy I saw when I first picked the Captain up for that cursed mission.

“Hey, man,” Sam says in shock.

“I’m sorry about this. But we need a place to lay low.”

“Everyone we know is trying to kill us,” I add.

“Not everybody,” he steps aside and Steve and I walk in. “Bathroom’s through that hallway and there’s a spare room right across from it… I’ll go and… make you something to eat. If you guys do that sort of thing.”

I chuckle softly and Steve lets me go wash up first. I splash water in my face and take a breath, something I couldn’t do until now. I stare hard at my reflection and I look as lost and tired as I feel. I find a small towel and take it with me, sitting on the bed and drying off. Steve freshens up next and goes to sit in front of me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I respond a little too quickly.

“What’s going on?”

“I guess… SHIELD’s been my life for so long. I thought I knew what it was… that it did good, helped people. I thought that everything I did, every mission I filled was the right thing, the good thing. But what if it wasn’t? Whoever gave those orders could have been using me. Using us all. If we’re the bad guys then… the people I’ve… crossed off… they could have been good guys.” I put the towel down and sigh. “I owe you, Rogers.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“I really thought… HYDRA was gone.”

“Well, yeah so did I, I killed their leader.”

“No… there’s something else.”

I know he’s frowning as he looks at me. “What?”

“I told you about Romanoff’s mission in Odessa… after that I was put undercover. Two years, deep. As a scientist researching the super soldier serum; from Romanoff’s debrief that seemed like the best option for a cover story. We had to find out about these threats that came outta nowhere. HYDRA picked me up. We never even considered them, I didn’t know it was them until later so I told Fury. At first… he thought it was just pockets, ya know? Thugs. People who wanted to take the reputation HYDRA had to scare competition. They had a secret… I kept coming up with nothing in my three-monthly check ins but I felt like I was close. Anyone interested in the serum had to know something, right? Then we found you and… I don’t know, maybe if Fury didn’t pull me out, I would have found the Winter Soldier and Fury wouldn’t be dead.”

“You didn’t know. No one did. These aren’t thugs. They’re organised and have been for a long time to be able to infiltrate SHIELD like they have,” he says sternly.

“If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life, now you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?”

“I would now. You’re not a bad person, Y/N. I can see that, I don’t have to know you that well to know that. And I’m always honest,” he adds, causing a slight smile to appear on my face.

“Well, you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out that killing the Red Skull did nothing to stop HYDRA.”

“Well,” he leans back on the chair. “I guess I just like to have a face to put on the people I’m up against.”

“Breakfast is ready…” Sam says. “If you… eat.”

“I like him,” I say.

“So do I.”

We stand and follow Sam to see the eggs, bacon and toast laid out on the table. “This is so sweet, thank you, Sam.”

He smiles. “I wanna help.” And I know it’s about providing us with a meal.

“We-we can’t ask that of you,” I say, knowing he’s not referring to cooking breakfast for us.

“You don’t have to because I’m offering.”

Steve nods. “Alright.”

“You’re just a civilian, right now,” I object.

“So are you, disgraced SHIELD agent.”

I huff, that’s fair.

Steve updates Sam on what has happened as I eat the breakfast so kindly prepared.

“So, the question is, who at SHIELD could launch a domestic missile strike?”

“Pierce,” Steve answers.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” I saw before having a bite of buttered toast. Yum.

“But he’s not working alone, Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.”

Thinking back, I go through all the names of the hostages on the ship. “So was Jasper Sitwell,” the only field officer on a ship of technicians and scientists.

Steve frowns. “So the question is how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is, you don’t,” Sam says then he places a file on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Call it a resume.”

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission. That was you?” I say looking at the picture. “You didn’t say he was a pararescue,” I say to Steve. “I heard they couldn’t bring choppers in because of the RPGs. What did you use? A stealth chute?”

“No. These,” Sam hands us the thicker file.

“I thought you said you were a pilot?” Steve says, surprised.

“I never said pilot.”

I finish my breakfast as they think of a plan to retrieve the… wings. The boys can handle that while I enjoy these eggs and locate Jasper Sitwell.

Steve kicks Sitwell through a rooftop door. “Tell me about Zola’s algorithm.” I follow after Steve, silently.

“Never heard of it,” the traitor says, out of breath and stumbling backwards.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?”

“I was throwing up, I get sea sick.” This smartass. He almost falls back but Steve catches him, grabbing him by his shirt. He calms down and smirks. “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you’re gonna throw me off the roof? Coz it’s really not your style, Rogers.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Steve smooths Sitwell’s jacket down. “It’s her’s.” He steps aside and I smile, kicking him off the roof as he screams. “Were you on the helicarrier when Barton tried to shoot us down?”

“What?” I say, caught off guard, as I stare down and the falling man.

“You said I had two more guesses.”

I chuckle, remembering what he was talking about. “No, I was on a short vacation by then. One more guess.”

“Where did you go?” he asks out of curiosity.

“Classified.”

“So it was a mission?”

“Classified,” I smirk. “Fine you got it outta me, I was at –“

Sam comes up with a still screaming Jasper who is dropped behind us.

“To be continued,” Steve comments as we approach the agent.

“Zola’s algorithm is a program for choosing Insight’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You. The TV anchor in Cairo, the Under Secretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city, Bruce Banner, Hank Pym, anyone who’s a threat to HYDRA. Now… or in the future.”

“The future?” Steve repeats. “How could it know?”

Sitwell chuckles. “How could it not?”

“The 21st century is a digital book,” he stands up, meeting Steve’s eyes. “Zola taught HYDRA how to read it. Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

“What then?” I ask, frowning.

He looks at me as if he’s noticed what he has revealed. “Pierce is gonna kill me…”

“What then?” I repeat.

“The Insight helicarriers cross people off that list. A few million at a time.”

Well Shit.

We get into a car, dragging Sitwell with us and we drive to the Triskelion.

“Insight launches in 16 hours, we’re cutting this a little close, fellas.”

Steve explains our plan of action which to no one’s surprise, Sitwell objects to. Before he can continue his rant there is a thud on the roof and an arm pulls him out through the car window.

I watch after him, seeing the metal arm of the Winter Soldier grabbing a gun from his holster. Moving fast, I slip through the two front seats and into Rogers’ lap, pulling his head forward to protect him as the Soldier shoots from the back seat to the front. Before the bullets reach us, Steve pulls on the break, causing the Soldier to fall forwards. Grabbing one of the guns, I aim but we get hit by a SHIELD Humvee from behind, causing me to drop the gun and the car to push forward toward the Asset. I fish for the gun, grabbing it as the steering wheel is ripped out of the car and Sam’s hands.

“Shit!”

I shoot after the Asset but he jumps off and onto the Humvee as we glide through the road, no way to control the car. We roll and Steve grabs each of us as we surf on the detached car door. The Soldier launches a bazooka at us but Steve pushes me away as I start running for cover so he takes the shot.

I dodge gunfire and moving cars, jumping off the bridge and using a grappling hook to safely get myself down and run but seeing his shadow, I stop just before the bridge and start shooting until he takes cover. I move to a cable car as the pissed off Asset rains bullets at my previous location. I shoot back and run as the bullets chase me.

As a diversion I record myself speaking on my communicator and play it on loop, placing it behind a row of cars as I take cover. I watch as he rolls a grenade to the source of the sound and it explodes so I jump up, using a car as a step up and kicking him in the face. I wrap my legs around him as I use my retractable steel bracelet to wrap around his neck as a garrotte but he gets his hands through and walks backwards, slamming me against a car. He gets his hands on me and throws to off of him and into another car. Geez. Before he shoots at me I grab an electric disc off my bracelet, throwing it at his arm to temporarily disable it as I run for my life.

“Get out of the way! Get away!” I yell at the panicking civilians then I feel a bullet pierce right through me. Stunned, I stumble backwards, resting on a car. I hear the soldier land not too far from my position and our eyes meet briefly as he aims at me. Steve runs in, giving me a chance to get away. Finally. Fuck me, why did I have to be the one to deal with him? As the two fight, I manage to get a hold of a dropped gun and slowly make my way back to them.

Steve flips the soldier over whose mask falls off as he lands. He turn around and I notice Steve’s stance stiffens.

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell’s Bucky?” the Asset asks. Sam kicks him, sending him flying but he’s too distracted, shaken to go after him. His eyes go wild, confused and lost as he looks at the mask now on the ground. He takes out a gun, aiming for Steve and instead of shooting directly at him I purposely target for behind him.

I recognize the STRIKE team’s vehicles coming for us and there’s no where to run. Agents put handcuffs on me and walk to the their vehicle, doing the same to Steve and Sam, confiscating their weapons and loading us up.

“What happened back there, Steve?” I ask. “Isn’t Bucky… your childhood friend?” I recall from reading the history books. He was the only Howling Commando to give his life in combat and was put on the SHIELD Wall of Valor as an honorary agent.

“It was him. He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me,” he says sadly.

“How is that even possible? It was like 70 years ago,” Sam asks.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in 1943, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did, helped Bucky survive the fall.”

“Zola did it to hurt you,” I say. “Using your best friend as their secret weapon, if they ever needed him to fight you. That’s why they chose him to experiment on…”

“Wow, classic evil guy tactic,” Sam comments.

“None of that is your fault, Steve,” I say softly.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

“Y/N, you’re bleeding badly,” Sam notices. “We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The masked agent pulls out an electrified baton, causing Sam to stop talking and jump back. They don’t use it on him though as they flip it in their hand to hit their partner who groans but passes out before he could do anything.

“Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain. Who’s this guy?” Hill removes her helmet.

“Long story,” I whisper. It feels like when I talk it hurts more.

Hill accepts that and uses a laser cutter to cut a hole in the floor and we slip out.

“I have a car waiting,” Hill says. “There are still agents on the right side.”

We arrive at a dam and Steve helps me down from the SUV, allowing me to lean on him as we follow Hill.

“GSW, she’s lost at least a pint,” Hill yells.

“Maybe two,” Sam adds.

“Let me take her!” A doctor I don’t recognize says, meeting us.

“She’ll wanna see him first.” I frown, who could I possibly wanna see right now, apart from a doctor to stitch me up?

Leading us into a room, there was no way I could have expected it. Fucking Fury, of course he’s alive.

“About damn time,” he mumbles then lists all his injuries.

“You’re too stubborn to die,” I say as the doctor sits me down to attend to my gunshot.

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve asks.

“Any attempt on the Director’s life had to look successful,” Maria explains.

“Can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides, I didn’t know who to trust.”

“So we just had to get targeted by the Winter Soldier for you to trust us?” I ask.

“I trusted you, that’s why I had you go to the apartment. I knew you’d find the truth, along with Rogers.”

“Well, you’re really gonna hate what we’ve found out,” Steve says.

“Alexander Pierce is the head of HYDRA,” I say, ripping off the band aid.

Fury nods slowly, processing. “That man declined a Nobel Peace Prize. He said that peace wasn’t an achievement. It’s a responsibility,” he scoffs bitterly. “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues.”

“We have to stop the launch,” I say.

“I don’t think the Council is accepting my calls anymore,” Fury states. He opens a briefcase with three drives in it.

“What’s that?” Sam asks.

“Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Hill briefs.

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own,” Fury adds.

“One of two won’t cut it, we need to link all three for this to work. If even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

Fury starts on his plan to rebuild SHIELD but Steve has none of it, interrupting. “We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with this!” Fury defends.

“You gave me this mission. This is how it ends. SHIELD’s been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“We’re meeting in this cave because I noticed.”

“How many paid the price before you did? You didn’t trust Y/N when she said she was close to something. If she had stayed, you would have realized how important that mission would be. You have to stop underestimating people, Nick. Your enemies as well as your friends.”

“Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.”

“Even if you did, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? SHIELD, HYDRA… it all goes.”

“He’s right,” Hill agrees.

“And you? You grew up in SHIELD. Trained, educated…” Fury asks me.

I shake my head. “This is the right thing to do. It was all a lie.”

“Well, looks like you’re giving the orders now, Cap.”

I find Steve on the bridge overlooking the water.

“I found the council woman. Hill had a photostatic veil ready for me to use…” I choose not to acknowledge his solemn look until he chose to.

“The other person… the one that called me annoying, was Bucky,” he starts referring to our earlier conversation. “He’s all I had. All I ever had. The day I thought I lost him was the worst day of my life.”

I place a hand on his back. “Do you think you can save him?”

“I have to try. I owe it to him to try.”

“And if you can’t? What if… he doesn’t let you?”

“He will. Suit up, it’s time.” He starts to walk and I frown.

“You’re not fighting in that are you?”

“No. If you’re gonna fight a war, you gotta wear a uniform.”

💖

Thanks for reading! Have a new fic idea but should probably get more of this one done before I start writing two at once but I’m so excited for it 🤩🤩😭

Chapter 5

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #platonic #slowburn #steve rogers x platonic!reader #winter soldier #captain america #sam wilson #mavel #marvel fic #mcu #series rewrite

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

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Aeipathy: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: i don’t (unfortunately) own Marvel or any of their characters, plot points, etc. so all right are to them and their our overlord Disney

AN: yeahhhh this one’s a shorty but i promise the next one will be longer and filled with plot and angst and shit so prepare yourselves <3

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder/arson, HYDRA collectively is a prick

Chapter One is available here!

Gnawing.

It claws through my body on all fours. Tearing, ripping, hacking, burning.

Monstrous fangs that sink into the deepest parts of muscle- I can feel it in my bones, the burning.

There is no noise, just the sound of whirring and the unholy screeching of demons in my ears. Faceless demons, demons whose faces have too much detail, demons that stare, demons that scream. Demons, demons, demons.

I have fallen. Fallen from grace. Fallen from…

No, no.

I am falling.

Something catches me. A savior in blue. Scarlet red smeared across their chest. Blood. My blood- the blood of sinners and saints and bystanders. Of children and ancients and of rich and poor.

There’s white streaked between the red. Piety. Purity. Righteousness. Desperately, I cling to the stark white stripes. Indecipherable mumbles pass my lips as I stare at the white. I beg for purity, to be clean again.

Every time I wake up, it’s always the same.

The immovable weight in my body. The unceasing shivering. The bite of frost. The writhing of filth in my veins. In my nerves. In every fiber of my being. Festering. Growing. Rotting. Corrupting. Remembering.

But why can’t I remember?

All I can remember are the demons. Faceless, nameless but never silent. Always screaming.

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

I cling to the white. The righteousness of my savior. Solidity in turbulence. Silence in cacophony. Purity. Cleanliness. Life.

I cling to life.

But life burns under my fingertips. It shrieks and squirms under my touch- tries to escape. Repelled by my presence, it retracts away from my grasp.

Color retracts into shapes as I take in my surroundings. An almost completely empty room completely made of concrete. A single contraption behind me made of metal. Icy fog slithers out of the open door, hissing and flicking at my ankles.

Words, however, remain blurred. The savior holds me upright- pulls me to my feet. Everything burns and aches. I’m so incredibly cold. Frosted water paints my skin, coats my clothes to my body. A puddle gathers beneath the writhing fog.

This seems familiar.

My eyes turn up towards my savior. The blood-stained guardian. Words fall from their lips, landing on deaf ears.

My body trembles as the cold becomes more vicious with its fangs. The savior turns away and says something. Everything is muffled- faraway and distant and like someone has their hands clamped down over my ears.

“Why am I awake?” I ask, straightening up. Every inch of me quivers while every part of me wishes to stop.

But I was awoken for a purpose. My mission.

And I’ll complete it.

Hail HYDRA.

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

Date: 2012

“Woah, easy, ________,” I mutter, holding her upright. Her eyes wide, they flick around the room. Her hands grip my chest as she shakes violently.

She’s here. She’s alive.

She… she died. Died on that table- how is this…

“Steve,” Tony mutters, holding out a blanket. I take it and start to wrap it around her shoulders.

As her glazed eyes lock with mine, I look over her face. She’s drained of color- blue and white. Her chapped blue lips open and close violently.

Hoarsely, she starts to speak.

But not anything I can understand.

Over and over, she repeats questions with her eyes wide and wary of every moment and movement. My eyes dart over to Tony- who watches ________, his eyebrows furrowed.

Russian.

That’s what she’s speaking. Russian. And fluently. Extremely well. Why… Why is she…?

“She didn’t… usually speak like this, did she?” Tony asks, gesturing vaguely to her as she continues to shake in my arms. Broken words off a stolen tongue hiss past her lips. She furrows her eyebrows as she looks between the two of us.

“Her files told me she was-” Tony continues.

“She’s… she’s never spoken this before,” I mutter, adjusting my grip under her arms. “Raised in Brooklyn for most’a her life- I dunno why-”

“V chem... moya missiya?” ________ hisses, her voice shaking. I look down and watch her straighten up on unsteady legs. “V chem moya missiya?”

“...why is she…?” Tony mutters, stepping in front of her. He lets his head fall back with a sigh as he taps his leg with his finger. “It’s been a long time, let’s see if I can do this.” Rolling his shoulders back and snapping his neck, he focuses back on ________. “Kto ty?”

________’s head tilts to the side slightly. Her eyebrows furrow further as she glares at him through them. “...Hetaerae. V chem moya missiya?”

Tony sighs and closes his eyes as he speaks. “Ch… chto… ty. Chto ty?”

Her eyes glaze over as she stops shaking, standing upright. “Ya HYDRA.”

“...she’s… She died, Tony. I don’t… I don’t know what else to tell you,” I mutter, looking up from the desk. “She… she died before I even got the serum. I hadn’t even seen Doctor Erskine- Bucky… he hadn’t been shipped off to Europe yet.”

“I may be able to help explain that,” Tony says as he gets to his feet. In his hand is a thick folder filled with papers and photos and notes and scraps of paper. He places it in front of me with a thud. “Apologies- I would opt for the digital version but, uh… you… don’t even know what... that… is.”

“Tony,” I say sharply as I open the folder. He just shrugs and sits down across the table again. The top paper is mostly blacked-out with a few words left untouched. ________’s name. Her age. Her parents and their causes and dates of death. And other words that… don’t make sense. ‘Mistress’. ‘Replication’. ‘Improvement’. ‘Rejected’. ‘Baroness’. ‘Salbei’.

‘Hetaerae’.

Repeated over and over throughout the sea of black streaks is that word. ‘Hetaerae’. At the very bottom of the page in tiny letters are the words ‘Project Samsara- Hetaerae’. In the corner is a skull with tentacles writhing beneath it. ‘HYDRA’ is written along the curve of the skull.

My stomach churns. If HYDRA really is behind this then...

I start tearing into the folder. Photos of the various angles of the steel container from when I woke up. Under it is a handwritten note. ‘Cryo-container; Vrsn: Hetaerae’.

Another photo- this one of a chair. On the armrests and legs are cuffs, along with another one on the back of the chair. Something metal comes around the chair. It juts off the side of a machine and looms over it like an archway. A note is written over the photo. ‘Neck brace may prematurely terminate subject. Issue logged during first programming session’.

Another blacked-out stack of papers. The same words are repeated over and over again. ‘Hetaerae’, ‘Baroness’, ‘Samsara’, ‘Salbei’, ‘HYDRA’. My fists clench the papers before tossing them to the side. Tony watches in silence.

What the Hell is this? What were they doing- what did ________ have to do with it?

My eyebrows furrow as I manically flip through the papers. Papers fly to the side as I tear through the folder. I can feel myself getting rigid as I near the end.

Nothing. I’ve learned nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. There’s nothing here-

My hands stop as my eyes rest on the last few items. A file not blacked out. It’s completely intact. Nothing scratched, no scribbles, no hasty lines cutting through words. I snatch it and start reading.

Project Samsara; Hetaerae

Subject Name: ________ Bishop

Subject Age: 26

Subject Info:

Daughter of Leon Bishop (deceased) and Catherine Chambers (deceased)

Resident of Brooklyn, NY

Military background

Non-combatant medic

Attempted pilot training

Worked under Doctor Akin Nachtnebel- HYDRA researcher

Personal friend of Captain Steven G. Rogers, Sergeant James B. Barnes, political activist Odessa Lily Mae Ababio

Official status: Deceased

Simplified Process Log (see file 178953 for detailed logs):

Day 1:

Body retrieved by HYDRA.

Blood and tissue samples taken.

Heart/respiration rates taken.

Note: Hetaerae seems to be semi-lucid. May require sedation.

Day 13:

Serum incubation complete.

Visible changes in body structure internal and external.

Bone density increased slightly, muscle mass increased, other changes to be tested.

Day 23:

Regen. abilities test positive

Enhanced reflexes test positive

Body modifications test optimal

Note: Hetaerae seemed to negatively respond to pain. Possible weakness. Must train to not respond.

Day 68:

First programming session prematurely terminated. Hetaerae reacted negatively to programming.

Admitted to medical wing.

Near strangulation and bruised trachea.

Removing neck cuff on programming station and attempting again tomorrow.

Day 100:

Programming temporarily successful.

Hetaerae could not recall set of numbers given pre-programming for forty minutes.

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Day 173:

Hetaerae admitted to medical wing for treatment.

Major vocal cord damage.

Damage not irreversible.

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Note: Hetaerae begged for ‘Steve’ and ‘Bucky’ repeatedly during memory wipe. More research needed.

Day 234:

Three guards admitted to medical wing.

Hetaerae had clawed at their eyes, noses, ears, and mouths

Broken nails were taken from guards’ faces.

Admitted samples for research.

Extra-long memory wipe testing done.

Hetaerae will be allowed a day to rest after strenuous session. Cannot allow for subject’s termination.

Day 250:

Near disaster.

Hetaerae attempted escape.

Four guards killed. Two more seriously injured.

Must increase security.

Note: Hetaerae lethal before combat training. A promising candidate. Akin, in his paranoia, chose well.

Day 276:

Hetaerae broke free of restraints during memory wipe.

Too exhausted to attempt escape.

Memory wipe has prevented Hetaerae from remembering subject name.

Will begin codeword implantation process tomorrow.

Day 342:

Hetaerae begins Samsara training tomorrow.

Complete memory wipe achieved.

Hetaerae is the only thing within subject.

Day 3658:

Samsara training complete.

Winter Soldier co-training complete.

Complete memory wipe complete.

Codeword implantation complete.

Hetaerae to be placed in cryo to await orders.

Hail HYDRA.

HYDRA status: Active. Ready for use.

“Look at her track record,” Tony mutters, sliding a thick wad of papers over to me. Turning away, I shake my head. “...fine. I’ll read it for you.” He huffs, flipping through the various pages. “Uh… her first mission was to…” he scoffs, “To take out a mid-level politician that had apparently laid his eyes on something he shouldn’t have. ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’.”

“Tony…” I warn quietly, my shoulders getting tenser with each word.

“A few missions later, she’s retrieving lab samples and… and destroying the lab... Fourteen people killed. ‘Mission: success, targets: terminated’.”

“Tony.”

“I’m skimmin’ here, Cap, but listen- an orphanage in Saint Petersburg, a… a couple in Prague, a woman in Athens, a man in Cairo...” Tony continues skimming through the pages. “‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’-”

“Enough!” I snap, turning to look at him.

Tony sighs and puts the papers down. Running a hand down his face, he purses his lips. “Dunno how else t’tell ya this, Cap- she’s dangerous. She has killed hundreds of people. She can speak seven languages, she can infiltrate a political atmosphere and topple it, she can... camouflage in any… social situation, she has a perfect kill record... Whoever she was before-”

“She’s still in there,” I cut in. “She’s still in there.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Are… are you not... hearing what I’m telling you?” He gestures to the original folder. “They laid into her for… ten years. Subjected her to torture. Wiped her slate clean. Whatever was in there, pal, it’s long gone.”

A huff leaves my lips. “...you don’t know what she was like,” I mumble coldly, reminiscing over what it was like to live with her, to live with her at my side like I was at hers. “She was… the most... hard-headed… stubborn dame I’d ever met. And strong, too.”

“Rogers-”

“She’s still in there, Tony,” I snap, my eyes flicking up to him. “She’s strong.”

“Good morning.” I say, waving at ________ as she sits on the chair. Her breathing is steady, eyes trained on the opposite side of the room. Her wrists are handcuffed to the armests- the same with her ankles. They clink slightly as she breathes.

The room is completely empty except for another chair across from hers. My shield lays against the chair- ‘a precaution’ Fury called it.

‘A threat’ is what I would call it.

I step further into the room and sit down on the chair. With glazed eyes, she watches me. “Are… those too tight?” I ask, gesturing to the cuffs.

She says nothing. Only blinks in response.

She… she looks so empty.

Her face was always glowing, her smile illuminating the clinic when Buck and I would walk in to bring her lunch or just to bug her. Letters would flood in every now and then from past patients or their families, thanking her for her patience and kindness. She would keep them all in a shoebox under her bed.

And her hands. She would wrap bandages around my wounds with care. She’d always tell me to not get it in my head to fight again… and then ask where the punks lived so she could ‘pay them a visit’. Her hands were always feather-soft when checking every injury’s progress.

Now they look… darker. Not in color but just… darker.

Stained.

Did she know what she was doing when she killed those people?

________ shifts slightly, the sound of the handcuffs pulling me out of my head. I clear my throat and straighten up. “...do you know who I am?” I ask quietly.

No response.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Haetarae.” She answers, eyes still glazed.

“Do you… do you know who you actually are?”

________’s eyes narrow for just a moment. “...HYDRA.”

“No. No,” I mutter, pointing to my chest. “...do you know who I am?”

...nothing.

“Steve. I’m Stevie. We… we grew up in Brooklyn together. With Bucky. We, um… Buck ‘nd I, we helped you out of a fight when you were thirteen. That’s how we met… you… remember that…?”

She blinks, eyes scanning over me.

Getting up from my seat, I reach into my pocket and tug a photo of the three of us out of my pocket. It was taken after she had gotten her nursing credentials. We had gone out dancing, just the three of us. We found someone willing to take our photo. A smile crosses my lips as I look down at it.

Colors start to fade into the black and white photo. Every detail is so crisp. ________’s chin is resting on my head as she stands behind me- a bright, red-lipped smile on her face. Her arms are wrapped around my chest as she leans over. Her hair is done perfectly- up with roses in her hair. Neat and tidy like she practiced. The skirt of her dress is the same shade of red as her lips. Black dots pattern the fabric of the skirt. The bodice was black- matching her heels. Hooked through her elbows was a creme-colored fur boa.

Bucky’s got his arm around her waist and he ducks down to my level. He holds a pressed black suit, wearing a red undershirt. His suit jacket is hung over his shoulder with his undershirt’s sleeves rolled up. I remember him shining his shoes that day while ________ meticulously placed roses in her hair. Bucky had sewn and hemmed my pants with pride. ‘It’s a special day, punk’, he mumbled with the needle between his lips, ‘can’t have ya trippin’ on your pant legs.’

She shifts again and I’m pulled right back into now. ________ sits in front of me. No smile, no roses, no brightness. And Bucky… Bucky’s dead and gone. Lost a long, long time ago. Slowly, I hold out the photo. “...see?” I mumble, “That’s me… before I… had a growth spurt. And that’s Buck.”

I look up to her. She’s focused on the photo, eyes slightly squinted and head tilted to the side just barely. “...Buck ‘nd you,” I laugh quietly. “He… he was… so crazy about you. He just… never realised it.”

The door behind us cracks open. Her body snaps tightly, eyes back to glazed. Tony peeks his head into the room and tilts it back. “Eyepatch wants you.”

I sigh. Looking back at ________, I tuck the photo into her hand. Slowly, her fingers wrap around it delicately. I nod once and start out of the room. As the door swings shut, I spare one last look. ________ looks down at the photo, her head slightly tilting once more.

“It may be our only option,” Fury sighs. “She’s unpredictable at best.”

“She’s still in there- if I can just… keep talking with her-”

“That is out of the question,” he says firmly, eye flicking up to me. “...you’re too close on this one, Rogers. I’m making the executive decision to-”

Lights start to flash overhead- red and screaming. A wailing buzz rips out of the hallway as the red light bathes us in scarlet. The door slams open, Tony standing in the doorway, panting. Fury slowly gets out of his seat, eye wide.

“She… She got out,” Tony mutters, gesturing outside.

My body launches forward as I run into the hallway. People are running, an anxious chatter swarming around them as they pass just in front of me. As I push into the main hallway, elbows and chests are thrown into me. Flicking to each person, my eyes catch the room where ________ was held. The door is almost completely torn off the hinges- the wood cracked at the handle.

I start to push through the sea of people. Like water, they throw themselves against me- eager to leave the building and get the hell out of harm’s way. But as I make my way to the door and push out the other side of the tempest, I can see the dangling cuffs still hanging around the armrests.

My fingers graze the splintering wood door, tracing the ridges of where her fingers had dug into the wood- leaving grooves in the shape of her hand. The hinges look relatively new as they hang lifelessly off the wall. The debris littering the floor is kicked around, leaving a partial trail down the hallway. I follow with a solid grip on my shield.

“________?” I hiss, looking around the empty hallway. Everything is dimmed by the red lights and the screaming of the alarms haven’t stopped. “________!”

I round a corner and every adrenaline-fueled tension melts away. At the very end of the hallway is a floor-to-ceiling window. Broken glass lays at the base of a gaping hole.

She’s gone.

#captain america #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #captain america x platonic!reader #eventual relationship #slow burn #angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #series #nick fury #tony stark

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bittykimmy13 · 4 years

Text

Playing with Fire (18+ GT Drama / Horror)

Premise: Sequel to Heart of Gold. Sherry navigates a vicious life teeming with cruel and lustful giants eager to get their hands on her. The only lifeline within reach is the person who sealed her fate.

Warning: Graphic descriptions of sexual assault, violence, and dehumanization in a GT context. This is not intended to be fetish material; commenting on it as such will result in an immediate block.

Print/Trinket Universe and characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 / @little-miss-maggie, who made the sick header image <3

(( Read Heart of Gold here ))

(( More from the Print/Trinket Universe ))

"I already told you, I'm done. Delete my number."

"One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now."

"What'd you do this time?"

"I just... I need you here. Please. I know how we left things. I understand if you never wanna see me again, but I need your help. This is the last time I'll ever bother you, I swear."

Tears drenched Sherry's face. Her attempts to drift away from her current hell led her down the most miserable memories. She wasn't sure which was worse: revisiting the moment she ruined her life, or being present enough to confront her ruined life.

A voice huffed overhead, forcing her to choose the latter. "Stop crying already. Fuck."

But Sherry couldn't stop. She didn't have a clue what was happening or why. All she knew was that she was pinned to a cold metal table while a human woman tried to fit a gold collar over her head.

Agent Taylor. That was what her badge said.

The cabinet doors had flown open at Zane's place, and the reaper's cold eyes had filled the space. Her grasping hands wrecked the makeshift shelter while she thwarted Sherry and Adam's pitiful attempts to bolt out of reach. They had been dumped into a glass cage and then separated before they reached their final destination.

Adam was nowhere to be seen. Was he being forced into a collar somewhere else? And what about Odessa? She had not been caged with them. Maybe because she had been captured by a different reaper.

"Please," Sherry whimpered, twisting her head side to side to avoid the collar. "W-what are you doing? Why am I here?"

Taylor wound Sherry's teal hair around one fingertip and tugged so sharply that Sherry screamed. The back of her head slammed against the table, making the world turn fuzzy. She squinted through the blinding fluorescent lights to see the reaper's annoyed expression hanging over her.

"Stop squirming, or I'll snap your pretty little neck, you hear me?" Taylor looked down at her with disgust. "I don't have a clue why Mitchell insisted on keeping a whiner like you, but you should be grateful. The best thing a trinket can hope to be is a snake."

"A-A... what?"

Fingertips viciously groped Sherry's neck until she held still enough for the perfect gold circle to slip over her head. The invasive hands pulled away finally. Panting, Sherry sat up and felt her collar all around, intending to yank it off. Impossibly, it retracted to a smaller size and settled snugly around her neck. There was no clasp to be found. Smart metal—the kind that was used on tracking cuffs for prints. Since when was such expensive material used on trinkets?

Feeling like she couldn't draw a full breath, Sherry whimpered and clawed at the collar. She felt the thin engraving of an inscription etched along the metal, but she was not interested in deciphering it.

"Don't bother." A hand swept Sherry into a fist, pinning her arms awkwardly against her body. "Mess with it too much, and it'll choke you out before you can even think to regret it."

Sherry trembled in the woman's grasp—not only from fear, but from the shock of being handled so roughly. She had been spoiled by Zane's consideration and careful touches, even if he had turned out to be a lying bastard in the end. Hours ago, she had felt like a real person, and already it seemed like a fever dream to ignore what she really was.

Trinket. Criminal. Doll. Prisoner.

She was whisked out of the small, blinding room and taken into what appeared to be the main hub of a police station. Sherry shivered harder than ever. The giants typing away at computers and chatting around the desks were not regular cops. These were reapers, government agents specifically tasked with the repossession of wayward prints and trinkets.

Although she fit the category of wayward trinket, she figured she would have been shipped straight to a facility to be redistributed to another bar. Maybe a brothel as punishment for her misguided attempts to be rescued by the rebellion. Why was she still here?

"New snake?" boomed an unfamiliar voice. A reaper passing by Agent Taylor eyed Sherry like a choice cut. She shrank away from his stare, which only seemed to encourage him. He stopped to reach out and brush a finger over her hair. "Where'd you nab this one?"

"Some barfly who can't get his story straight about whether he's black market or rebellion." Taylor made no move to thwart the other reaper from lifting Sherry's chin to see her tear-soaked face better. "Either way, the truth will come out. We got taped confirmation about a meet-up tomorrow at noon."

The guy whistled, finally pulling his hand away. "A confession and a follow-up location? Lemme guess. Odessa?"

"Who else?"

The mention of Odessa's name made Sherry perk up, but the conversation ended before she could make sense of what had been said. She'd been too preoccupied about being petted like a captive mouse.

Taylor took her to the center of the station. What Sherry saw made her stomach churn. A glass labyrinth of trinket-sized rooms sat atop a huge table. There were faint lines of translucent circuits within the walls that suggested it was no ordinary glass. There was no ceiling on the enclosure, as though a pet store had decided to set up shop in the middle of the government establishment.

"Welcome home," Taylor said derisively. "For however long you last. We call this the Warren."

The longer Sherry stared at the enclosure, the sicker she felt. There were over a dozen rooms. The walls offered no privacy, other than one cubicle that had sheets thrown up over the sides for some reason—but it still lacked a ceiling. There were doorways, but no doors. None of the openings provided a path onto the table. No exits. The only way a trinket could leave was if a human plucked them out.

Sherry was released into one of the cubicles, which looked like a rough draft of a bedroom. She backed up against the wall, shivering. She eyed the doorway, but with a reaper glaring down at her, there was no point in making a run for it. Her trembling legs were hard to convince.

Blessedly, Agent Taylor turned her attention to a tablet that lay beside the Warren and tapped away at it. "Name?"

Flinching, Sherry clutched her hands close to herself and stared up blankly.

"Tell me a name, or I'll pick one for you." Taylor's eyes flickered to her. "You look like a 'Diva' to me."

"Sh—" She swallowed a sob. "Sherry."

Taylor made a noise of ridicule under her breath. Perhaps like Zane, she didn't believe that was her real name and that it was really what she had been saddled with when being passed around at a bar. Whatever she thought, the reaper typed something into the tablet. Circuits along the wall flickered, and Sherry's name appeared in translucent letters on the wall by the doorway. It was then she noticed that the other rooms had names, too. The one across from hers was Raquel.

Despite her best judgment, Sherry couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Tell me what's happening," she said, hating the pathetic note of pleading in her voice. "Please. I... I don't understand."

She had never begged as a trinket. Not at the facility. Not at the bar. Not when she was worried that Zane's impossibly gentle touch was fake. But she had been able to make some sense out of those situations. For the life of her, she could not pinpoint what she had done to end up in the Warren with Agent Taylor leering down at her.

The reaper, forthcoming as ever, gave her a barbed smirk. "Do a good job, and you'll be rewarded. Do a shitty job, and you'll be at the mercy of that new necklace of yours. Do a particularly shitty job, and you won't even get that mercy. We'll leave you to the wolves to do as they please. Simple as that."

There was nothing simple about it.

Agent Taylor tossed the tablet onto the table and strode off without telling Sherry what her job was.

For a few minutes, Sherry couldn't do more than stand in one spot while her thoughts reeled. The moment it sank in that nothing stopped her from walking through the doorway of her assigned room, she stepped out. The glass walls were so clean, she might have walked right into a few if not for the pale circuits within.

She came across three other trinkets in her tentative exploration of the Warren. None were helpful. A couple of them were sleeping in their own rooms, and one was sitting on the floor in a central hub area.

He stared up at a news channel playing on a wallscreen that was embedded into the glass. Sherry didn't even realize they made screens so miniature, let alone that there were any systems in place that allowed trinkets to use them. It felt like a twisted, sanitized version of Zane's makeshift trinket hideout.

"Hi?" Sherry said, her voice thready. She stopped a few feet from him. No, inches. Inches. "Can you tell me what's going on here? What is this place? W-what do they want with us?"

He didn't look away from the screen. Didn't say a word.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Please... I-I have no idea—"

"You'll figure it out," he grunted. "Or maybe you won't. We don't bother each other around here, I'll tell you that much." He gave her a razor-sharp glance that told her it was time to stop bothering him.

She retreated back to her room and hugged herself on the bed. That's all there was. No pillow, no sheets. She had glimpsed a few other rooms. Most were fairly simple, but others were adorned with extra accommodations. More pillows, thicker blankets, extra furniture, a box packed with clothes. A couple even had their own wallscreens.

All around the outside the Warren, the reaper station went on business as usual. Footsteps thudded back and forth past the enclosure, but despite Sherry's instinct to duck down out of sight, no one seemed to give the trinkets more than a passing glance. As if the glass cage was no more out of place than a light fixture.

Although intense confusion continued to plague her thoughts, her adrenaline waned and exhaustion crept in. She absently felt along her collar to trace the letters and numbers. C117.

Without realizing she had curled up on her side, she fell into a fitful sleep.

She couldn't be sure how long she had laid there by the time heavy footsteps rattled the floors and walls, closer than before. Sherry jolted in bed, but she kept her head down. She debated on whether it would be a better idea to sit up or pretend to be asleep. A shiver ran through her at the thought that a person was towering over the Warren, looking down at her.

A familiar voice silenced her internal debate—a voice that didn't belong to a massive reaper.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know."

Odessa.

Sitting up, Sherry almost tripped over her own feet as she scrambled for the doorway. She gripped the glass edge and looked high up. The reaper who had approached was still there. A cold spike of recognition ran through Sherry as she examined his icy blue eyes and dark hair. He had raided Zane's place along with Agent Taylor. Currently, he held Odessa in a fist and glared at her.

"Well, someone must have tipped them off," he snapped. "We've gone over the recording a dozen times—there's nothing left up to interpretation. A distributor was supposed to be there at noon. Are you sure there wasn't some change of plan? Did he ever look at his phone as if he received a message? Because I'm still feeling pretty fucking suspicious about how long it took for you to boot up your tracker."

Despite being trapped in a gigantic grip, Odessa didn't cower. That was strange. She had been so skittish around Zane, and here this reaper was raising his voice at her.

"I wouldn't have gotten the confession at all if you all had busted in any earlier," Odessa spat. "It's not my fault the distributor didn't show up. Maybe some neighbor spotted Zane being arrested and passed the info along. Could be that you all weren't subtle enough. Instead of asking me, why don't you ask Zane?"

The reaper scoffed. "Haven't been able to get another word out of him. He's already on the docket for trial. Let's see if he's so quiet during his follow-up interrogation at three inches tall."

The hand holding Odessa plunged and deposited her in a nearby hall of the Warren. Overwhelmed by the appearance of a friendly face, Sherry bottled from her doorway. Seconds after the hand retreated, she flung her arms around Odessa and held on tight.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Sherry gasped.

Odessa stiffened, but after a moment, she hugged Sherry back. "It's okay," she said softly. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I-I thought I'd be alone here. I heard what Zane said about being with the black market. I knew it. But they won't tell me what's going on here! What are they making you do? Zane just barely got you last night—how can they expect you to know anything about what he was up to?"

A laugh boomed from above, effectively reminding Sherry that they were being watched. She cowered, but Odessa seemed more annoyed than frightened as she held Sherry close. The glare she aimed upward looked like it had been bred in a blizzard.

"Oh, that's just precious," the reaper said, bracing his hands on the table to lean down closer to them. "You sure picked a bright one, didn't you, Odessa? Poor thing hasn't even put two and two together, has she?"

Sherry looked from his looming face to Odessa's icy expression. "What's he talking about?" Sherry asked.

Odessa sighed. "Let me explain—"

"Allow me," the reaper laid in overtop. The cruel amusement in his eyes should have been reserved for a kid frying ants with a magnifying glass. "Sherry, is it? Well, Odessa is the reason you were dragged from that cute little hideaway in the cupboard. I mean, if we hadn't stepped in, you'd be up for bid on the black market. But still. You were rounded up thanks to our expert two-faced bitch here. I suggest you start thinking of her as your new role model if you want to make it through your first week."

Sherry's desperate arms went slack. She wriggled out of Odessa's protective embrace. "He's... he's lying," Sherry said. "Tell me he's lying!"

But Odessa did not attempt to deny any of it. Fury and a sense of utter loneliness exploded through Sherry so violently that she nearly collapsed. Spotting this, Odessa caught her arms and kept her standing despite Sherry's protests.

"Fuck off, Mitchell," Odessa snarled. "Why don't you go figure out the Zane situation before the captain mounts your head on the wall?"

Agent Mitchell was still chuckling as he straightened to his full, dizzying height. "Better start explaining things to her quick. She'll be out in the field before you know it."

Odessa locked her hand in Sherry's and led her away. Still in shock, Sherry allowed herself to be taken. There was a room with Odessa's name displayed on the outside. If Sherry had only explored a little further, she would have saved herself a few precious moments of humiliation. Even more mind-boggling, this was the room with sheets thrown over the walls.

As they entered, Sherry's eyes widened. Odessa had more possessions than anyone she had seen so far.

"Sit." Odessa led her to a dollhouse chair against the wall.

Sherry ripped her hand away and glared, making no move to obey. Her throat was too tight with tears and anger to say all the things racing through her mind. Odessa took her by the shoulders and made her sit.

"Listen up." Odessa's fingers stayed perched firmly on Sherry's shoulders. They were nearly nose-to-nose. "I'm going to explain my job. Our job. Are you listening? When a human is suspected of stealing prints or trinkets, the best way to find everyone they've stolen is to send in a snake. That's us."

"That's you," Sherry protested, her voice a mere croak.

"No. It's us. Whether you like it or not, you have to understand right here and now that there's no choice, Sherry. Either you comply, or they'll send you somewhere worse."

Sherry shook her head. "You said or. Sure sounds like there's a choice in there somewhere."

"Not when one of the choices is a fucking stupid one." Odessa knelt by the chair and looked up at Sherry, taking her hand. A display of vulnerability meant nothing when it came from a professional liar. "I saved you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this is the best thing I could've done for you."

"My collar disagrees." Sherry yanked her hands away, glaring daggers at Odessa's imploring expression. "If we're being set out as bait to catch these people, we're still ending up in bars. How is this any better?"

"The difference is that you'll be saved if you do your job right. You'll have a bed to sleep in. Food to eat. Moments of actual rest. Those other trinkets out in the world... They have nothing. They're dead."

"Oh, this is what you call living?"

Odessa pursed her lips, patience wearing thin. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it and say it's easy. It's the hardest job you'll ever have to do, but it's a job. You're not a doll or a sex toy or decoration anymore."

"You're right," Sherry spat. "I'm all those things at once, just depends on who the reapers plan to target, huh? Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," Odessa said simply, rising to stand in front of Sherry with her arms crossed tightly. "I'm expected to teach you what to do. So if you want to survive, I suggest you listen up."

Sherry scowled and clenched her hands on her lap, but she listened.

"Depending on the target, you need to tailor your personality to be tantalizing but believable. Some of these creeps have wizened up, or at least know that the reapers have a few tricks up their sleeves at this point. You just need to be something they want to take home with them. Whether it's for personal, black market, or rebellion reasons."

A sour look crossed Sherry's face. "So, that scared girl thing you did at Zane's place... that was just a routine to get him to nab you?"

Odessa scoffed. "Zane was hardly worth the effort. But then again, bar jobs are usually the easiest. The reapers work with the staff to make sure a snake gets served to the target. Those jobs are the most common. I'm sure that's what they'll assign you at first."

"And what about Adam?" Sherry said when he occurred to her suddenly. "Why isn't here, getting this informative seminar with me?"

"There's no way I could convince Mitchell to take you both."

"So... I'm just the lucky one you chose, then?"

"Luck had nothing to do with it." Odessa glanced away, frowning as if she was still processing her own decision. "I've never asked them to bring in a new snake before. But you were convincing when you hid your suspicions from Zane. Convincing enough that I know you'll be good at this job."

Before Sherry could help it, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be good at this job."

"Sher... I'm giving you something that didn't have before tonight. I'm giving you the power to take control instead of staying a helpless victim." Odessa leaned in closer and put her hands on Sherry's shoulders again, squeezing. "Lesson one. Never cry unless it benefits you."

One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now.

Rage flooded over the fear. Sherry sprang to her feet and shoved Odessa to the ground, catching her off guard. "You're a fucking monster! Just as bad as Zane, and these reapers, and all the other psychos out there who can't keep their disgusting hands off trinkets!"

A shadow darkened over them. Mitchell seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his voice rumbling with dangerous amusement. "Well, well, trouble in paradise?"

Sherry made a choked noise and tripped over the doll chair as his hand dove down for her. She scrambled to kick her legs free of the flimsy furniture, but in no time at all, fingers closed around her body and yanked her out of Odessa's room. He observed her panicked struggles for only a moment before raising his eyebrows at Odessa.

"Guess you forgot to mention in your little orientation that fighting isn't tolerated."

"Back off," Odessa said, brushing herself off. "You've barely given me fifteen minutes with her."

"Hm. Didn't happen to teach her about the collar yet?"

"I was getting to it," Odessa said hurriedly. Her voice jumped in a way that made Sherry's skin crawl with dread.

That was all the answer he needed. He released Sherry on the table's expansive surface outside the Warren, right beside one of Odessa's walls. Odessa tore down one of the hanging sheets, pressing her hands to the glass.

"Just relax!" she ordered Sherry, seeming caught between genuine worry and cold nonchalance in Mitchel's looming presence.

"Oh, stop babying her," he chided, doing nothing to fight a sick smile of anticipation.

Mitchell's hand crowded Sherry again. She backed up frantically, but bumped into the glass, unable to avoid his fingertip as it tapped her collar. He went on conversationally as if she wasn't cowering under his gaze.

"Now, if you're out in the field and need to communicate, put your fingertips on both sides and hold for a few seconds. When you've got a solid enough confession from the target, turn on the tracker by tapping the sides three times." His finger pulled away, but not before dragging it down her shoulder, arm, and leg. "Timing is everything. You'll find that several targets scan for trackers, so be smart about when you activate it. You wouldn't want them to know your little secret."

Once his hand no longer filled her vision, she managed to shudder out the breath she had been holding. She reached for the collar, pursing her lips. He spotted the question on her face and chuckled.

"Why would we give you the power to choose when we come for you? Because we have a neat little failsafe in the event that you try to dodge us. I think you deserve a demonstration."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. The reaper logo was stamped on the back. He set it on the table in front of Sherry, giving her full upside-down view as he moved through screen after screen until he came upon a list of codes and names. He stopped and tapped on one of the pairs.

C117 - Sherry

Before she could process how quickly her identity had been synced in the reaper station, she couldn't breathe.

A cry squeaked past her throat. She coughed and tried to pry her fingertips under her collar as it constricted against her neck. Panic seized her. She fell to her knees and writhed uselessly, certain that the metal would decapitate her in its rapid compression against her windpipe.

Odessa's voice sounded far away. "You made your point, now quit it!"

"Just showing her what happens if she gets any bright ideas," Mitchell drawled.

He tapped his device. The collar sprang back to its normal, snug fit. Bracing one hand on the table, he leaned in closer to get a better look as Sherry put herself back together. Gasping, she managed to stand shakily.

"That's for trying to rough up my favorite snake," he told her in a low, dangerous voice. "If you don't turn on your tracker while you're on a job, it starts a little slower than that. You won't even notice at first. Like a frog in boiling water. Just don't even think about activating the tracker until you've recorded some evidence or found some hoarded inventory. You got it?"

Sherry stood there and trembled, reeling to process the way he referred to smuggled people as inventory.

His hand slammed down beside her and sent a shockwave that knocked her off her feet. She looked straight up as he put his face inches from her.

"I said, you got it?" Mitchell barked.

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"Yessir!" She nodded frantically and pressed her back against the glass that separated her from Odessa, who looked on with wide, furious eyes.

"You done?" Odessa demanded of Mitchell. "Already collected plenty of material to jack off to later, don't you think?"

He smirked. "You know me so well."

In one smooth motion, he straightened and plucked up Sherry before she could think to be startled by it. He deposited her in Odessa's room, where she fell to her hands and knees. She didn't pause for a single second—she sprang to stand. Bolting from the room, she headed for her own, empty one. Mitchell's leer followed her path effortlessly, still laughing and watching when she reached her destination.

"Expect your first assignment tomorrow, new girl," he said. "Hope you'll leave a good review about orientation."

"I can't take this anymore. Why can't you just... just stop!"

"You don't understand, Sher. If we don't keep splitting it between us, I... You know what'll happen to me. Is that what you want? It is, isn't it? Then you'd be rid of me for good. Fucking finally, right?"

"Don't say that!"

The feeling in Sherry's gut was so familiar, it hurt like a freshly reopened wound. No matter which body she existed in, the universe demanded she be dragged into something she wanted nothing to do with. No choice but to follow through.

This time there was no family. There was no love, no urge to protect. There was only the will to see another day.

What's the point of seeing another day if this what the days are like?

As she lay in her depressing, issued bed and stared at the ceiling, she sincerely thought of running over to Odessa's room to punch her squarely in the face. Maybe Mitchell would swoop in and let the collar finish her off this time. But Sherry couldn't bring herself to budge. She stayed fixated on the fluorescent lights as the hours of the day dragged on. The lights never turned out—not even at night. Busting people for hoarding prints and trinkets was a twenty-four-hour business, but reapers could go home at the end of their shifts.

In all her waiting, she found herself becoming numb. By the time Agent Mitchell came stomping back to the Warren, she felt ready for whatever horror she was expected to carry out. At least she tried to lie to herself that she was ready. Odessa, a known liar, was certain that Sherry was an excellent one. So maybe she could convince herself.

"Four assignments tonight," Mitchell announced, reading from a tablet. "Odessa, Collin, Miranda, and Sherry."

Through the glass walls, she saw the summoned trinkets making their way to the common area. She followed suit, making sure to be as far away from Odessa as possible as they stood at attention.

Mitchell's gaze settled on Sherry immediately, seeming equal measures curious and amused as he wondered how she would react to carrying out her first job. She dropped her gaze to the floor. If some creep was going to toy with her tonight, the least she could do for herself was not let Mitchell get the ball rolling.

"Don't look so sad, Sherry," he chided. "You've got a bar tonight. Easy."

"I'll take her assignment," Odessa said as if she was commenting about the weather.

Sherry's head shot up to look across at Odessa. The other trinkets were staring too, while Mitchell raised his eyebrows steeply.

"See, that's a problem. Did you miss the part where you have your own job tonight?"

Odessa shrugged. "I'll do both. One after the other. She isn't ready yet, but the jobs need to be done, so I'll do them."

He scoffed. "What's the point of her taking up space here?"

"What space? Look around. Half the rooms are empty. Just give me more time to work with her, and she'll be as much of an asset as I am. You're risking her if you send her out too soon. Think long-term, Mitchell. She'll be worth it."

The reaper thought on it for a second, resting a hand over one of the outer walls and drumming his fingers on it. Looking more amused than ever, he turned his attention back to Sherry.

"And what do you say to that?" he asked her.

More than anything, Sherry wanted to demand what Odessa was playing at. Was this her way of apologizing? Sherry was not used to anyone taking the fall for her, but she stuffed down her shock with a cool look and mimed Odessa's shrug.

"If that's what she wants, you won't hear me complaining," Sherry said.

"Fine by me." Mitchell reached for Odessa. "As long as both jobs get done tonight."

And with that Sherry was left standing alone in the common area as the other snakes were plucked up as well. Dropping the pretense of her disinterest, she drew a deep breath and made a slow path back to her room. Along the way, she saw a couple of other snakes who had not been assigned anything that night. They rolled over in their beds, eyes open. No doubt they had heard the whole thing, but none of them had offered to take on Odessa's extra job.

Sherry spent the day drifting between her room and the common area, trying to block out the sounds of the station around the Warren. It was like existing as a ghost. Feeling real while having no significant impact on the real world.

She stared at the wallscreen as it played the news, but she may as well have been watching a broadcast from Jupiter for all the effect it had on her life. Watching the news from Zane's apartment had filled her with a weak sense of hope—at least, in those times when she could force herself to ignore how suspicious she was of his motives. Here, she was filled with nothing but sorrow, watching as the distant world went on without her.

Odessa had been taken at five in the afternoon. She was returned at four in the morning, looking as exhausted as Mitchell looked pleased. It must have been the end of his shift because he didn't stick around to torment anyone as the returning trinkets staggered to their rooms.

Sherry put up no argument when Odessa leaned in her doorway and beckoned her to follow.

"So... I'm guessing it went well?" Sherry asked once they were in Odessa's room.

She refused to give Odessa the satisfaction of immediately asking why she had taken the second job.

"I was responsible for three arrests." For all the extra privacy of her room, she didn't seem shy at all as she stripped off her skimpy bar outfit. Sherry averted her eyes to the corner as Odessa went on. "The first job was a well-off couple. They had been hoarding trinkets from bars and selling them on the side. Not part of any black market networks. Those are the easiest. They rarely have a clue what they're doing, and it's very obvious. Remember that."

Catching a flash of fabric out of the corner of her eye, Sherry peeked and saw Odessa had thrown on a sunflower dress. She did a double-take. It looked a lot like the one Zane had kept in his storage of trinket clothing.

"Independent sellers are easy," Sherry recited glumly. "And the other?"

"A low ranking distributor on the black market. He was crashing parties that had trinket rentals. Keep this in mind, too—those trinket rental services are the most notorious for losing their inventory. Too many moving pieces and rarely a solid guest list to keep track of."

Sherry nodded, sinking into the dollhouse chair as she tried to process it all. "How did you pull that one off?"

"I was alone. I made myself the easiest one for him to grab. So he did." Odessa leaned against one of the sheeted walls and crossed her arms. Her eyelids looked heavy. "It was hard getting info out of him. See, distributors are usually either batshit crazy or stoic. Still, at the end of the day, what most of them love is to feel powerful. The trick was for me to be awed and skeptical. In the end, he wanted for me to know how much of a badass he was."

Something cold warmed through Sherry as she watched Odessa rub her arms up and down like she was trying to rid herself of a lingering sensation.

"And did they..." Sherry cleared her throat. "I mean, did they touch you?"

Odessa dropped the back of her head to the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "The couple caged me. They weren't interested. The distributor... Well, he was handsy. I had to lure him to get those confessions out of him. A lot of humans are like that. They start getting physical, and their walls come down while they brag. They just need to make it clear how much stronger they are."

Humans. "I'm guessing you weren't human, then?"

Odessa fixed her with a guarded look. "What's got you so curious all the sudden?"

"What's got you so selfless all the sudden, taking my job like that?"

A scoff. "You don't know me enough to be shocked by my choices." She paused, her jaw ticking for a second. "Born and raised in a print community. That's where I get my sunshiney personality."

Sherry tried not to gawk. They had been born in entirely different worlds, and now here they both were, living in a glass cage together.

"Did you try to escape?" Sherry asked.

"To go where? The wild? Nah." Odessa pursed her lips as she reminisced. "It wasn't so bad there. I worked in a local bakery, and I was taken to the city a few days out of the month to pull weeds at a botanical garden."

A little snort escaped Sherry before she could stop it. When Odessa raised her eyebrows in question, Sherry shrugged. "Sorry, I have a hard time picturing you in an apron or surrounded by flowers."

"Well, I did have a different face at the time."

That sobered Sherry up in seconds, but she in no way apologized. "So what happened?"

"This keeper started harassing me when I was old enough to have my own place."

Cocking her head, Sherry waited for more, but Odessa just stared at the ceiling. Her gaze was beginning to look distant. Sherry supposed she could understand that. She stood, walking close enough to see the individual petals on Odessa's sunflower dress.

"Did you get into trouble with him?" she asked softly, as if it mattered at all who heard. "It's the kind of thing you hear about sometimes, you know. Keepers getting handsy with prints and getting no repercussions for it. Finding ways to get them in trouble when they don't reciprocate."

Odessa's eyes snapped to hers. "I killed him."

Sherry took a step back, her blood icing over. Her wide eyes incited a smirk on Odessa's lips.

"You were human, weren't you?" Odessa said. "You may not be as freaked as every other human-turned-trinket I've met, but you've still got that look, that way you carry yourself. Like you used to be on top of the world."

"Oh, please. I was never on top of the world."

"Yes, you were. Consider this. The poorest human is living better than the most well-off print." Still, she paused to think about Sherry's statement. "I'm guessing you didn't leave much behind?"

Taking slow steps back to the doorway, Sherry didn't have the energy to protest the shift of spotlight. The mere inquiry of her old life sent her head spinning along with Odessa's casual confession.

"I left behind plenty," Sherry said, gripping the glass doorway. "I have a twin. Had, I guess. Don't quite look alike anymore. Her name's Mia."

Odessa's poker face remained intact, but Sherry swore she saw a flicker of sympathy. "Since we're sharing, what did a sweet thing like you do to deserve what you got?"

It was Sherry's turn to be amused, though she felt like a cold knife was twisting in her gut as she made her exit. "You think you're hot shit for taking out one creep? You're looking at a convicted serial killer, queen."

"Hey, I'm here. I found your backpack, but where are you?"

"I-I..."

"Hello? Mia?"

"I'm sorry, Sher. I-I'm s-so sorry, I had to, I had to—"

"Whoa, slow down! Why are you crying?"

The next night, Odessa insisted once again on taking Sherry's assignment. And the night after that. And the night after that. Mitchell was apparently determined to saddle them both with jobs every night. The other snakes were granted periodic nights off.

There was no attempt to hide it—Agent Mitchell was thoroughly entertained. On the fifth night, he clicked his tongue and looked down at Odessa with what might have been admiration. "You know, you're this close to pissing me off, but I'm kinda curious how much you'll kill yourself to protect your pet girlfriend."

Being in the clear every night did not win Sherry any friends among the snakes. Then again, none of them seemed overly fond of each other anyway. As far as Sherry knew, she and Odessa were the only ones who visited each other, even if those visits were out of pure survival on Sherry's part.

Odessa returned later and later into the morning every time, burdened with the double assignments. The dark circles under her eyes became a permanent fixture. And yet, her performance in acquiring confessions and finding hoarded trinkets did not seem to wane in the slightest.

"Why not call the reapers earlier?" Sherry asked when she noticed Odessa massaging her neck and grimacing. She was back later than ever, which meant she must have put up with the collar tightening quite a bit.

"Holding off a little bit longer pays off," Odessa explained. Even her voice sounded sore. "More damning confessions. Plus, info on others in their network. I'm sure you've noticed that we're rewarded when we do a good job."

Sherry had noticed.

Odessa's cubicle was the most decked out. The best clothes, the most pillows, the softest blankets. The reapers didn't even bother her about the extra sheets she had tossed over the glass walls, allowing her privacy that the other snakes were denied. She did her job well, and like a prized poodle, she was given treats for it.

The reward system gnawed at Sherry over the next few days, but she had little time to confront Odessa about it. She continued taking Sherry's jobs and took to sleeping the entire time she returned to the Warren. The rage that had first taken over Sherry was slowly but surely flickering down to nothing each time she saw Odessa drag her feet to her room.

Then, out of the clear blue, the snakes were taken outside. Sort of.

They were allowed one hour of outdoor time per week. It turned out to be the necessary amount to keep the majority of them from snapping and killing each other in their sleep.

The seven of them were placed in a glass box that had been fixed outside a window. Naturally, the dreariest day of the week had been chosen. Drizzling rain pattered against the glass, keeping the occupants downcast as ever.

Odessa, for all her exhaustion, seemed the least bothered by it. She sat cross-legged in front of one wall. Her hands were braced on the floor behind her, chin tilted up and eyes shut as if she could feel the sunshine through the compact clouds.

Taking a seat beside her, Sherry curled up and hugged her knees. Instead of looking up, she watched the crawling traffic below. Watching from ten stories up made her feel less small.

"Was I just another reward?" Sherry blurted. "Just something you asked for when you did a good job with Zane?"

Odessa didn't answer.

Sherry sighed sharply. "Why bring me into this? What do you want from me?"

"I dunno, Sher," Odessa murmured finally. "Maybe, for once, I wanted to be around someone who wasn't hand-picked by reapers. Maybe I'm just fucking lonely, and you had enough potential as a snake that I could use it as an excuse to keep you. Or maybe I just think you're cute."

There was no more wrath in Sherry. Only an awful, hollow feeling. "I really am your pet girlfriend, aren't I?"

"You still don't get it. You don't have to be anything to anyone. That's the gift I gave you with this job. You choose the role you want to play. You aren't the prey anymore. You're the hunter. If you don't want me to take your assignments anymore, all you have to do is tell me."

Sherry dug her fingers into her arms, holding herself closer. "Why take my jobs in the first place? You care so much about survival and rewards. You think you're getting in my good graces?"

Odessa was quiet for so long, Sherry thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed. "I only meant to take the first job. It would have sucked for you to die on your first assignment. Then you didn't seem ready for the second one. Or the one after. And so on. Now here we are."

"You still don't think I'm ready?"

"You could be." Odessa kept her gaze fixed on the clouds. "Maybe I'm the one who's not ready to imagine someone getting their filthy hands on you. But I gotta say... Being a good liar is one thing. You seem a bit soft for a serial killer."

Sherry swallowed hard, feeling like she was stumbling up a staircase in the dark, knowing that one step was missing.

"Makes sense," Sherry said. "I was framed."

Odessa turned to look at her, scooting closer until their arms brushed each other. It was weirdly comforting to have someone listen instead of scoff. "Huh. Ain't that a bitch. Wrong place, wrong time?"

"No. I was right on schedule. I knew I was there to be framed. It wasn't the first time."

Clenching her jaw, Sherry stared straight ahead at the skyline. The city was loud, but it was so quiet inside the glass box, she felt as though every snake was listening in. None of them gave a shit, other than the one sitting beside her.

"Mia and I would switch places all the time," Sherry said, her words feeling strangely disconnected from herself. She had kept them in for so long. "Ever since we were kids, we would share the blame. We would keep track of whose turn it was to get in trouble. As we grew up... she was the one doing most of the bad things.

"And then, once we were adults, it was legal trouble. She could never seem to get herself back on her feet without being dragged back down by something new. It happened over and over. I would let myself get arrested for her petty crimes, and then I'd be let go. She had this terrible boyfriend who kept dragging her along. She may have loved me, but she was obsessed with him. It got to be too much. Once I realized she liked that life, I was done. I moved away, cut her off. It was more like cutting off an arm or a leg. She had turned into this awful thing, but she was still my sister.

"Four years, we didn't speak. Then one day she called me up. Said she needed my help one last time. Said she'd leave me alone after that. I almost didn't go, but I missed her, and I was worried. She promised it was nothing too bad, but she had built up her record so much since I left, she just couldn't afford to get caught again.

"So I showed up where she told me to. I found her backpack in an alley. When I called her, she was a wreck. She kept apologizing, kept saying she loved me. But that she couldn't be a trinket. She just couldn't do it.

"Right on cue, I was spotted and recognized by a witness. I was arrested. The police line-up lasted for about thirty seconds before I was singled out. I was dragged in for an interrogation. That was when they told me what she did. What I did. Seven counts of first-degree murder. See, her boyfriend had been arrested for gang activity and who knows how many hits. At his trial, the jurors took less than five minutes to deliberate: guilty. He was sentenced to be a trinket. And she snapped. She blamed it all on them."

Odessa nodded, having the decency to look disturbed. "The jurors...."

"Picked them off one by one over the course of a year. On her seventh one, she was spotted, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she was found. So she called me up. Told me where to wait. I hadn't even looked inside her backpack, but buried at the bottom was the gun she had used."

"I'm guessing they didn't buy the whole 'my twin sister did it and told me to stand here'?"

"Oh, they knew something was off. But the precinct was a laughing stock because of how long it took them to find the serial killer. By then, Mia was long gone, and they had the perfect scapegoat, along with eyewitnesses to back up that they knew my face. Detectives even lifted some of her DNA from a few crime scenes. We matched."

For a long time, the two of them stayed silent.

"I was right, then," Odessa said finally, leaning her head on Sherry's shoulder. "Great liar. Terrible criminal."

As the rain began to slam harder against the glass, Sherry couldn't bring herself to shrug her off.

That evening, Sherry was fully prepared to step forward and take the job that had been assigned to her. Odessa took it before she could say a word. Mitchell was beginning to look frustrated, but apparently he was more interested in testing Odessa's limits than he was in making her play by the rules.

Odessa did not return until the next afternoon, and judging by the state she was in, Mitchell had gotten what he wanted.

He was all smirks as he dropped her into the common area. "Walk it off, little snake."

Her injuries were so brutal that even the other trinkets broke out of their disinterested fog to stare. She had a split lip and dried blood caking the lower half of her face. She clutched her side tenderly, staggering against the glass to stay upright on the path to her room. She left a smear of blood on the pristine wall along the way. Mitchell watched for only a minute before taking his leave.

Sherry rushed up beside Odessa. A couple of weeks ago, it would have been satisfying to see her this way. Now, Sherry couldn't bring herself to remember what that smugness would have felt like.

"What happened?" Sherry demanded.

"You should see the other guy," Odessa croaked, wincing a cold smile.

"Don't be cute," Sherry said, allowing Odessa to lean on her as they headed to the sheet-covered room. "Don't we have some kind of medic? They know it's a dangerous job."

"Already stopped by the clinic downstairs. This was all they could do. Or wanted to do, anyway."

Sherry looked the half-assed job up and down, gently touching the hand that Odessa kept pressed to her side. "Your ribs might be cracked. What the hell happened?"

"Reapers suspected my target was working for the rebellion. He was spotted with the same trinkets multiple times, so he wasn't selling. I got myself all set up to be 'rescued', and it turns out this guy is a high roller in a fighting ring. Once I realized what was happening, I called for the reapers to come collect. But before I knew it, I was in the pit with another trinket, and he was not interested in talking it out." She smiled crookedly. "What, you worried about me, or something?"

Making a face, Sherry nudged Odessa toward her bed. "Yeah. If you can't go back out there, then I'll have to. Now lay down, come on."

"Bossy," Odessa sing-songed. "Kinda hot."

"Did you get a concussion too, or what?"

Sherry helped her lay down, then started looking around for something to help. Water and cloth were easy enough to get, but Odessa needed far more than that. Noticing Sherry's plight, Odessa raised her head.

"Raquel's got salve." She pointed to the box of clothes in the corner. "Take her the sunflower dress. She'll trade."

Digging out the dress, Sherry hurried out the door to find Raquel. It was a surprisingly easy trade for a mini bottle of salve. Mini to humans, at least. The bottle was the length of Sherry's forearm. It seemed that pretty clothes were just as much a commodity as life-saving medication. Sherry was still wearing her standard issue institution-like set despite Odessa's offer to share.

Returning to Odessa's room, Sherry set everything down on the nightstand, pulled up a chair, and got to work. She started by cleaning away the blood, moving more gently when Odessa winced.

"How do you not have your own salve?" Sherry asked to distract her.

"Covering my walls was a big ask. Mitchell, in his infinite wisdom, says he doesn't want to spoil me. He has decided that I can only ask for one or the other."

"Salve seems a little more practical if you ask me."

"Can always trade if I need it." Odessa reached back behind her head to lovingly touch the sheet on the nearest wall. "Ever notice how everything meant to contain trinkets is made of glass? Polished, perfectly see-through glass. That's part of the punishment, even if no one says it out loud. We're always on display. Always meant to be looked at and humiliated. Sure, there's nothing I can do about the ceiling, but... it's something, at least."

Sherry had never thought hard about it, though it had been staring her in the face for three weeks now.

"Lift your shirt," Sherry instructed, helping her sit up.

"That's forward of you." Odessa smirked at Sherry's eye-roll and did as she was told, lifting her shirt enough to expose her ribs.

Tenderly as she could, Sherry spread a few fingertips of salve over the bruising area. It wasn't a cure by any means, but it would help with the pain. After prompting Odessa to lay back down, Sherry dabbed salve onto Odessa's lip. Their eyes met, and Sherry felt heat rush to her cheeks.

Odessa shut her eyes for a moment and released a heavy sigh, reaching up to squeeze Sherry's hand.

"I poisoned the keeper," Odessa said quietly.

If she had been searching for the perfect way to kill the mood, she hit the nail on the head.

Frowning, Sherry slipped her hand free. "With what?"

"I worked in a botanical garden, remember? All kinds of plants. Prints were the only ones allowed to get up close and personal with the most poisonous ones. Prints and trinkets aren't affected the same way as humans. But let's be honest, they'd send us in there even if that wasn't in the case. Anyway, I started up a little collection, harvested the oils, and mixed them."

"He... he didn't suspect anything?"

She shook her head. "I didn't do it right away. I kept thinking... if he gets worse. And he did. I tried to convince him to stop, but he wouldn't. He had firmly decided there was nothing I could do about it, so why stop? That last night, he broke my window to get to me. The timing couldn't have been more deserved."

By that point, Sherry was fixated, forgetting the salve and soaked cloth entirely. "How did you manage to get it in his food or drink? It couldn't have been easy."

"Who said anything about food or drink?" Something sinister flickered at the back of her eyes. "I rubbed the oils all over my skin."

"Oh," was all Sherry managed to breathe out.

"Yeah. Oh. He had me strip like he normally did. Then, the moment he put his disgusting mouth on me, he was doomed. He didn't even know it. He drove home and didn't show up for his next shift. They found him in his apartment three days later."

"And they traced it back to you?"

"Well, I didn't go bragging about it." Odessa touched her sore ribs absently, staring at the buzzing fluorescent lights high above. "The autopsy revealed the poison. Those types of plants weren't native to the area and were traced to the botanical garden. And who was his only connection to the garden?"

"But you didn't slip it into his food or anything! For all they knew, you just happened to have leftover poison on your skin from working in the garden. He's the one who put his mouth on you."

Odessa laughed. "Like they gave a shit. Plenty of keepers knew he had a thing for me, then he suddenly shows up dead? They even had a few of my neighbors testify about how much I hated him. I didn't stand a chance. But... the way I went about it is also the reason I'm here to begin with."

"Oh. You said that reapers usually pick snakes, right?"

"Mitchell attended my trial when he heard what I did. It didn't last long. He approached me hours before my consciousness transfer. His timing is impeccable with that sort of thing—offering a deal just when you think things are hopeless you're desperate enough to say yes to anything.

"He said I could come work for him, or I could be shipped off to whichever business called dibs on the next trinket shipment. He fed me all this bullshit about being able to stop worse people than the keeper I killed. All he needed to say was that being a snake meant I had a fighting chance. I said yes, of course. From that moment, I was his. He even picked my new face. Took me into a storage room every night the first few weeks for training."

Sherry reached for Odessa's hand and squeezed, trying to draw her out of her distant gaze despite the quiet horror Sherry felt herself. No wonder Mitchell seemed to have the greatest sense of ownership over Odessa compared to the other snakes. She was his project.

"So," Sherry said. "Ever daydream about making some poison and letting Mitchell have a taste."

Odessa smiled wanly. "I used to. Then I realized that Mitchell is our survival. He's a sadistic fuck, but we need him."

The response took Sherry off-guard. She didn't think Odessa could look or sound so complacent.

"You're not covered in poison right now, are you?" Sherry asked. Before Odessa could process the question, Sherry leaned in and pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek. "Thanks for taking the fall for me. Since Mitchell's off-limits, can we at least daydream that the keeper is burning right now?"

"Now that one's a favorite."

Minutes ticked by, stretching into hours as Odessa rested. Sherry didn't realize she had dozed off in the chair beside the bed until the approach of a human rattled her awake.

"Odessa, you're out of commission for the weekend, lucky you," Mitchell announced, prompting her to jolt awake too. He smiled as his icy gaze moved between them. "Sherry, your assignment's already in, and I'm nice enough to give you a head's up. Velvet Delights. Be ready by 5 for pickup."

Cold fear drenched Sherry, stealing her breath.

"What!" Odessa snapped up to sit, grimacing at her sore ribs. "She can't go to a brothel! She's never even gone to a bar!"

"See, here's the thing," Mitchell said, leaning over to look straight down into the room until they had to crane their necks. "On file, she's been doing a hell of a phenomenal job at bars for the past three weeks. Even survived a fighting ring. No one can argue that she's ready as anyone for a brothel."

Odessa snarled, kicking off her blanket and standing to glare up at him. "Send someone with experience! You know she isn't ready!"

"Whose fault is that? She could have been more than ready if you didn't coddle her."

Eyes wide and frenzied, Odessa looked to Sherry, who had her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep a sob at bay. This couldn't be happening. She'd known that eventually she would have to work, but she had all but blocked out the possibility of being tossed into a brothel.

Drawing a deep breath, Odessa squared her shoulders and looked back up at Mitchell. "Send me in with her."

His eyebrows shot up. "You have three days off."

"Which means I'm free to volunteer. You know as well as me that brothels have the highest death rate. Always better to send more than one. It divides the attention, makes it easier to get evidence."

Mitchell scoffed, but he paused to consider it. "You really are something else," he finally told Odessa. His eyes slid to Sherry for a moment, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm starting to get a little jealous if I'm being honest." He straightened and walked off. "Ready for pick up at 5," he said over his shoulder.

Sherry put on a pretty good show of pretending she wasn't scared out of her mind. In the weeks of getting to know her, however, Odessa could spot her tells. The way she rolled her shoulders. The slight pinch of her brow and lips that could be mistaken for a determined frown. The deep breaths she took to steady herself.

Velvet Delights was upscale, almost heavenly in its angel theme, which could either be helpful or disastrous. The reaper team wouldn't be far, patrolling the area and waiting for one of them to send the signal on their collars. The owner was thrilled to have a couple of free laborers, along with a promise that his inventory would not be snatched by the scheduled suspect that night.

The two of them were ordered to stand close together on the tray. Since Sherry seemed to have forgotten how to move, Odessa went and sat next to her. They were imprisoned under a wine glass and carted into a silk-lavished room. A luxury bottle of wine towered beside them. Odessa had been to enough brothels to know this setup was a special request.

The hostess straightened the pillows, made sure the glass was centered on the tray, and locked the door on her way out.

"You were right about the glass thing," Sherry whimpered in a half-assed attempt to giggle.

"Just relax," Odessa said. "Don't draw attention to yourself. Trinkets have mysteriously vanished around this guy, and that most likely means he's selling. He won't want to damage his product."

"And if he's not selling?" Sherry whispered.

Odessa squeezed her hand. "Just leave everything to me."

"You're hurt."

"The salve helped. I'm fine." Breathing only hurt a little.

The lock scraped. Sherry jumped, letting out a noise of fright. Her breathing quickened, and she shivered with the beginnings of a panic attack.

"Don't," Odessa hissed.

The door swung open, revealing a man with brown hair. When his eyes landed on them, he broke out in a smile that could light up a room. He glanced behind himself dramatically to check the number on the door.

"Am I in the right room?" he said. "Didn't know I'd be getting two. Hope I don't get charged extra."

Stripping off his jacket, he tossed it on a lounger and sauntered to the cart by the bed. He leaned over for a closer look, his fingertips trailing along the glass, tapping.

"Though... I say it'd be worth it for you two stunners."

Odessa tried to keep a neutral expression while she read him. It didn't take long to surmise that he had a thing for power. According to Mitchell, he was a bartender at a fancy downtown club. Trinkets were an everyday fixture for him, and still he visited brothels.

He reached for the bottle and worked on opening it. Didn't waste time, this one. Neither trinket said a word. "Don't be shy, now. Let's break the ice with some introductions." He popped the bottle and smiled pleasantly at them. "I'm James."

"Lolli," Odessa said, purposely trying to make herself look smaller and vulnerable.

He gave a hearty laugh, eyeing her red hair. "Lucky me. Cherry is my favorite flavor. Well, tonight it is." His gaze slid over to Sherry expectantly.

"Charity," she squeaked out, huddling closer to Odessa.

"Precious. Does that mean you're giving?" He grabbed the edge of the cart and dragged it closer. "I'm pretty giving myself, but we'll see if you're grateful enough to appreciate it."

Delicately pinching the stem of the glass, he pulled it closer, forcing them to approach him. Lifting the bottle, he tilted it to pour wine over the upended glass. Pale red dribbles raced down the outside of their prison. Odessa bit back a sneer, knowing he had either done this dozens of times or had scripted this fantasy down to the last beat in his mind.

Still, she was hardly prepared when he thudded the bottle down and slipped his hand beneath the rim of the glass. They had no choice but to scramble onto his fingers, stuck in their enclosure like captured bugs. James lifted them to eye level.

"Sorry for the theatrics," he said without sounding sorry at all. "I have my way of sampling."

Hunger, lust, and amusement battled for dominance in his gaze. Odessa bumped against Sherry as they were suddenly lowered, bringing his mouth into direct view. Sherry gave a breathless shriek as he licked the dripping wine in front of them. She snagged Odessa's arm and urged her to back up to the other side of their prison—as if it would make any difference.

As he turned his hands to drag his tongue further along, his breath fogged the glass. Odessa tried to look more frightened than outright disgusted. So, he was the type who liked to scare his victims instead of winning them over. How original. At least she did not doubt the character she had to play now.

"S-stop," Odessa said, loosing a fake sob and covering her face. "P-please!"

He pulled away, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. "You're right, I shouldn't have all the fun."

Air rushed past them as the glass was lifted off, leaving them exposed in his palm. Odessa thought for sure they were about to get the same treatment with his tongue. To her surprise, he lowered them to the nightstand and let them slide off. Grabbing a cloth from the cart, he wiped off the glass and poured himself a real drink while Sherry huddled against Odessa.

"Oh?" James took a long pull from the wine as he observed his audience of two. "Are you two friends? Adorable. That always makes things more fun." His gaze settled on Odessa. "Lolli, wouldn't you say our friend looks awfully warm in that get-up?"

The two of them wore matching white babydoll lingerie meant to make them look like angels. Instead of halos, they had their collars. Sherry shivered in her outfit like she was sitting in a snowstorm.

"In case it wasn't obvious," James said, his voice taking on an edge. "I'm telling you to take it off her."

Swallowing hard, Odessa turned to face Sherry, nodding her assurance. They needed to do what he said, lure him to let his guard down. With any luck, they could get a confession before he stole them from the brothel. Her goal wasn't to be perfect tonight; it was to get Sherry the hell out of there.

With trembling fingers that were only partly theatrics, Odessa reached for the straps of Sherry's bra. She felt sick to her stomach, particularly when she felt Sherry recoil from her touch. Sherry's voice seemed to echo from weeks ago, accusing her of being a monster. She certainly felt like one right now, though not as fearsome as the one looming over them with his expectant stare.

"I'm sorry," Odessa whispered.

Sherry looked like she might burst into tears as she dropped her head. She made no move to resist as Odessa undid the straps and pulled her bra down her arms, leaving her topless. Reaching for Sherry's panties, Odessa stopped halfway and pulled her hands back. She shook her head, leaning into her guilty expression as she looked up at James pleadingly.

James scoffed and drained the last of his wine, slamming the glass onto the nightstand beside them. "If that's too hard, tonight's gonna be a rough one for you, babe. But I guess I'll let you off the hook for now."

Odessa breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll finish the job myself." James reached for them.

Sherry cried out in protest and latched herself to Odessa's arm, weeping. James' hand faltered as he eyed them. It wasn't pity—far from it. It was intrigue. Odessa could practically see the gears turning in his head as he took in the sight of Sherry cowering against her for protection.

He grinned. "Am I crazy, or are you blushing, Lolli?" Both. "Goddamn, more than friends, huh? I'm starting to wonder if management thinks it's my birthday or something. I'll do you a favor and show your little girlfriend how it's done, from the top."

His hand closed the distance this time, claiming Odessa as its prize. As he pulled her away, Sherry tried desperately to hold onto her, crying, "No! No!" But she fell back on the polished wood when James shook her off.

"Settle down, babe," he cooed. "You'll get your turn with her. You should be taking notes."

Odessa squirmed and whimpered in his grasp, silently relieved to have the sicko's attention focused all on her. She was no stranger to being stripped bare, but there was something particularly chilling about how expertly his fingers navigated her. He managed to be delicate and possessive all at once as he slipped off the straps of her panties and tossed them aside.

"N-no!" Odessa sobbed dramatically as he lifted her toward his mouth.

He curled his thumb in, effortlessly pinning her to his palm as hot breath spilled over her. His teeth teased at her skin gently until he found one of her bra straps. He tugged until it came loose, leaving her naked in his hand. The delicate lace was still pinched between his teeth as he pulled back to observe her. His thumb rubbed her middle up and down, testing how much pressure it would take to make her squirm in terror.

He let the lingerie fall from his mouth and flutter to the floor. "You're going to be a fun one, aren't you? Thank fuck. These high-end places usually have the prissiest trinkets."

"Please s-stop!" She dug her heels into his palm, trying to pry up his thumb. "You don't have to do this!"

"That's the best part." He leaned in again, trailing his tongue up along her side and circling her breasts while she tried to wriggle out from under his thumb. He sighed as if he couldn't be happier with how she tasted.

She could feel him start to pull away, could see that he was beginning to turn his attention back to Sherry. Odessa yanked her head up and bit his lip. He gave a start and looked down at her, jaw dropping.

"Fun and feisty," he purred. "It's like you were made for me." He caught one of her flailing arms between his teeth and bit her back. Not enough to break skin, but enough for her to let out a scream that wasn't staged.

But that did the trick. He seemed to forget Sherry for the time being, keeping Odessa clenched in his fist while he undressed. Her sore ribs screamed in agony. He moved slowly, making sure she brushed up against his body when he pulled up his shirt or unbuckled his belt. When the dizzying journey was over, he was as naked as she was. He was more muscular than she would have assumed, toned chest and abs filling her vision. She made sure he caught her staring.

A fresh grin lit up his face. "It's about to be all yours, Lollipop."

When he spread himself out on the bed silks, Odessa caught a glimpse of Sherry standing helplessly on the nightstand. Her shoulders moved up and down with visible breaths of panic. Odessa felt a fierce tug at her heart, but she didn't dare look too long, lest James get new inspiration to have Sherry join the party.

As it turned out, Odessa didn't have much of an opportunity to stare, anyway. James laid back and put one arm behind his head, observing as he dangled her by an ankle. He twisted his fingers, scrutinizing her at every frightened angle. He breathed with deep contentment, trailing her up and down his chest and abs.

Only her hair tickled at him at first, but with each stroke, he claimed more of her. Arms, face, shoulders, back, breasts, until the entire length of her was skating along the heat of his skin. When she managed to catch a glimpse of his face, she realized he wasn't even looking at her. She followed his gaze overhead and nearly gagged. There was a mirror on the ceiling, and he was fixated on the sight of himself torturing her.

She put on a good show for him, whimpering and squirming and trying to pull herself up to avoid touching him. She dug her fingers into his skin and made him groan. She screamed a few profanities for good measure, followed by desperate apologies begging him to forgive her.

He loved it. Now if she could just get him to confess.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she babbled to herself out loud, as if she had completely lost it. "Just tonight, and he'll be gone. I can do this, I c-can do this."

He paused, stopping her halfway down the slope of an ab. "Aw, you're gonna hurt my feelings. Wouldn't you want to stay with me forever?"

A sob wracked through her. "You can't have me! You'll have to give me back."

Her vision spun as he carried her in front of his face to look her over. His chuckle was sinister, but not damning. She wanted to scream in frustration. Just say you're stealing us, already! She kicked her free leg and writhed, actually feeling his fingertips get tugged from the motion.

"Fuck, you're a fiery one," he murmured low in his throat.

That was all he had to say for now. She saw the lust gathering in his eyes, the way his breaths became deeper. He sat up halfway and dragged her down the planes of his body once more, not pausing to drag her back up this time. With a sinking heart, she knew the destination he had lovingly chosen for her.

Seeming miles away, Sherry let out a shriek as she watched from the nightstand. "No! No, don't, please!"

Odessa blocked it out. She would have to deal with this before she could hope to get any info from him. It was far from her first time. As he pressed her up against his hardening cock, she shut down entirely and let it happen. His fingers guided her up and down, the motion becoming rougher by the second.

But he was more sensitive to her mood than she gave him credit for.

"Aw, what happened to all that fire?" he grunted.

Just as quickly as the pressure had started, it faded. He pulled her away from his dick, and she watched in horror as he turned his attention to Sherry's frantic form pacing on the edge of the nightstand.

"Maybe our girlfriend here will be a little more fun. It's her you want, isn't it?"

Odessa's reaction was genuine as she abandoned everything she knew about being a snake. "You keep your sick hands off her!"

But that only inspired him to move quicker. "There's the fire, Lollipop."

His other hand raced to snatch up Sherry. He laid back down, pausing to relish the violent squirms in both his fists before he placed them on his stomach. He stared down expectantly at them like they had been deposited on a stage. He raised his eyebrows viciously at Odessa.

"If you're not a fan of making me happy, I'll let you make your girl wet instead." He reached past them and started stroking himself with anticipation. "Go on."

Odessa turned to Sherry as the two of them rose and fell in tandem with their tyrant's breathing. She reached for Sherry's hand and squeezed. Biting her lip, Odessa searched desperately for some confirmation that this was okay, that they could do what they needed to continue the job. But Sherry gave her head the smallest, pleading shake as tears streamed down her face.

Not here. Not like this.

Turning murderous eyes toward James, Odessa dropped her act entirely and flipped him off. "I'm not putting my hands on her for you, you fucking psychopath."

James groaned in disappointment. "You know, it turns me on a little less every time someone calls me that."

Quick as lightning, he tore Odessa away from Sherry and dumped her in the glass on the nightstand.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Odessa pounded her fists against her damp prison as Sherry became the object of James' scrutiny.

He plucked her up under the arms, watching the panicky kick of her legs. "Oh, don't be like that. Your girlfriend didn't even want you. Don't worry, Charity, I'm here for you now."

Sighing in rapture, he leaned in and pressed kisses to her writhing body. Sherry's whimpers took on a higher octave as he nibbled at her panties. That was all the warning he gave before jerking his head back and ripping them free of her body entirely. He spat them out, eyeing her with a crooked, boyish smile.

"Doesn't that feel much better?"

He teased her with a few more deep kisses, poking his tongue between her legs long enough to elicit an involuntary moan.

"Listen to that. You love it."

He dropped her back on his chest. He nudged her to lay face down and let his hand fall over her, massaging himself with her squirms. He rubbed her down to his abs and back up again. Her muffled cries were silenced each time he fully smothered her, only to surface again when he eased up on the pressure. He couldn't seem to get enough of the rhythm.

All the while, Odessa did not stop shrieking for his attention. By the time he turned his gaze back to her, her throat felt screamed raw. He ignored Sherry's violent struggles against his chest to give Odessa a chiding look.

"No whining, now. You had your chance with her. But don't worry, I'm generous enough to include you."

James sat up halfway and lifted his hand to set Sherry loose. She slid partway down his stomach, scrambling to cling to him so wouldn't slip onto his erection.

"See?" he chuckled, giving her another rub against him. "She's crazy about me."

Reaching past Odessa, James snagged the wine and poured it over her head, filling the glass until she was swimming. Surfacing, Odessa grabbed hold of the rim and coughed. "L-leave her alone! Use me instead!"

The shadow of his hand darkened over her. "You talk too much."

His fingertip came down on her head and dunked her under the wine. He held her down for a good long time while she thrashed and tried to dodge around his finger, which only shoved her down further.

Even when he let her come back up for air, she was given only a millisecond to gather herself. He plucked up the glass and swirled his wine, making her dizzy as she struggled to keep her head up. She slammed into the side of the glass and nearly passed out from the explosive pain in her ribs.

Then he lifted the rim to his lips and took a long gulp. She was too disoriented to swim away from the current rushing into his mouth. Once he caught her arm between his teeth, she could do nothing but wait until he was satisfied with his drink.

As the wine settled back in the glass, Odessa gasped for breath and pushed her wine-soaked hair out of her eyes. She spotted Sherry crawling away on James' stomach. She made it to the sheets before he noticed, chuckling with delight.

"Oh, you like games?" The wine that held Odessa rippled at the rumble of his voice. Sherry moved faster and ducked under a fold. James gave her a head start before setting the glass down so he could poke through the sheets in search of her. "Ready or not..."

While he was distracted, Odessa frantically tapped at her collar to activate the tracker and communicator.

"He confessed," she coughed out, keeping her voice low so James wouldn't hear her. "He has other trinkets with him! He made other stops before this one. Come on, hurry!"

There was an agonizing pause in which James crowed in triumph upon finding Sherry. She screamed as she was yanked out of her hiding place.

"No shit?" Mitchell's voice crackled through the collar. "On our way."

James settled back down, holding Sherry in a fist. He kneaded her front with his thumb as he entertained himself with her weakening struggles.

"P-please," she said. The fight seemed to leave her body. She looked right at him, trying to appeal to a better nature that just wasn't there. "I don't belong h-here. I'm innocent, you have t-to understand! I was framed. Please, please believe me. S-stop this..."

He pursed his lips and nodded along as if he was listening. When she was done, he broke out in a grin so wicked that Odessa swore she felt the temperature drop. "As if I don't hear that same sob story every damn day of my life."

Sweeping his hand out, he deposited Sherry beside his swollen cock.

"Let's see what you got," he said, his voice growing huskier. "Make me happier than you did the judge, and I might be nice."

Sherry tried to run for the sheets again.

"Do I have to do everything around here?" James sighed, though he sounded pleased as could be.

His hand barreled into her and shoved her back where he wanted. He pressed her up against himself with his thumb, rubbing in tight circles. As his panting grew more frantic, he seized both her and his cock in one hand, hiding her entirely with his fingers as he began to jerk himself off. His hand pumped up and down, drowning out Sherry's sobbing screams.

"Stop!" Tears flooded Odessa's eyes, mixing with the wine. "P-please! Just stop!"

His head snapped toward her, wearing a toothy grin. "Don't think I've forgotten about my Lollipop," he panted.

He grabbed the glass and tipped it into his open mouth with reckless abandon. Wine poured in and spilled out the sides. Odessa scrambled to grab hold of something as gravity took over, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself as he tipped her over entirely. The cold glass was replaced with a warm, slick cavern.

Light vanished when he shut his mouth. The surface beneath her lurched upward. His tongue mashed her against the roof of his mouth while he swallowed the rest of the wine around her. The gulp was deafening.

Once she was the only occupant in his mouth, he began toying with her. His teeth narrowly missed crushing her limbs as he clenched his jaw and moaned from the ecstasy of Sherry's struggles. He tilted his head back, and for an awful moment, Odessa thought he was about to swallow her next. Instead, he opened his mouth and left her propped up with his tongue, allowing her a view straight up at the ceiling mirror.

In the reflection, she saw how he parted his fingers around Sherry, giving her a chance to shriek freely. Then he pressed his fingertip to the back of her head to muffle the sound again. An answering groan quaked around Odessa.

She gave a wordless cry and tried to grab his teeth and haul herself out of his mouth. His tongue practically wrapped around her and reeled her back in. He shut his mouth again, rolling her around and sucking on her like a piece of candy.

To her shock, he stuck his fingers in his mouth to grab her by the ankle and pull her out. Losing no rhythm with Sherry, he leaned over to the freshly-refilled wine glass and dunked Odessa headfirst inside. He swirled her around and yanked her out just as suddenly. Holding her over his open mouth, he let wine drip onto his waiting tongue.

Odessa couldn't muster the energy to plead or hurl profanities at him. The hold on her ankle vanished, and she was dropped back toward her dark prison. She managed to twist in the air, landing on the corner of his mouth with her legs halfway out. His teeth came down on her torso, gnawing with dangerous pressure. She tried to wrench her way free, but it was no use. While she was pinned, his tongue returned to greet her, and his finger nudged her the rest of the way in.

James gave another deafening moan of appreciation as he savored her wine-soaked skin.

The noises became more consistent, and his movements quickened. He was heading toward climax. Odessa couldn't help but feel a tiny measure of relief as she curled herself away from his teeth. It was almost over.

Then, to her horror, his tongue began nudging her toward his throat.

In that instant, there was no doubt in her mind that he meant to swallow her as the finale of his pleasure. She scrambled to pull herself away, but there was a shift in gravity as he tilted his head back again to thwart her pitiful struggles.

"NO!" she howled, but the sound went nowhere. The harder she tried to pull herself up, the further she seemed to fall. Her legs slipped into a steep drop.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Suddenly, she was tilted back to the center of his tongue.

"Occupied," James snapped, teeth gnashing against Odessa's shoulder.

The door banged open. He was so startled that he bit down on her arm. A wail of pain tore out as an incisor cut her. It was a miracle that the bone wasn't crushed.

She felt him cringe at the taste of blood. He plucked her out of his mouth. She coughed herself ragged while his fingers pinched her by the diaphragm and spine. Snagging Sherry's limp body, he used the same hand to toss the sheet over his nudity.

"What the fuck is going on?" James roared, making Odessa slam her hands over her ears.

It all happened in a whirlwind.

Odessa and Sherry were confiscated by Agent Taylor while Agent Mitchell gave orders to the others. They were kind enough to let James put some clothes back on before he was dragged into a corner for rapid questioning.

The trinkets were placed back on the cart tray, but it seemed everyone forgot to give them the privilege of clothing. Sherry looked ready to faint as she stumbled over to Odessa and threw her arms around. She wasn't crying, just breathing heavily. She pressed her hand to Odessa's wound to help staunch the bleeding. Odessa sank with her and held her close, knowing that things were not about to get any easier.

As everything unfolded around them, Odessa found herself looking at Sherry's face. Her gaze was fixed on James across the room. Where there should have been fear, there was pure, unadulterated hatred. She hadn't even looked this angry when she found out the truth about Odessa's role in her capture.

She looked like she would kill if given the opportunity.

"Are you okay?" Odessa whispered.

Sherry blinked and shook her head as tears began falling. Sniffling, she surprisingly chuckled. "Sorry, I know I'm going against lesson one. No benefit to crying here."

Giving a small sob herself, Odessa tucked a lock of hair behind Sherry's ear. "Hey, don't tell anyone, but I was crying half the time. Didn't do me much good, either."

"I'm telling you, I don't know about any other trinkets!" James insisted, pulling their attention back.

Mitchell, looking like he had just won the lottery, walked over to the cart. "Where are the others?" he directed at Odessa.

When she didn't answer, his smile dropped. He leaned in closer, expression darkening dangerously.

"There are no others," Odessa said, figuring she may as well rip off the band-aid.

Mitchell went perfectly still. "But you got a recorded confession?"

"Nope."

And with that, James was released with a heartfelt apology and an assurance that he would be compensated for his night at the brothel, along with a promise that the agency would negotiate with the owner about a few free nights.

"You're lucky if I don't sue the shit out of you," James snapped, making his way to the door.

But Odessa doubted he would. He had to be a black market dealer, or a skilled independent seller at the very least. He wouldn't dare draw the attention of a lawsuit. Even if he didn't complete his fantasy that night, he was walking away with the knowledge that reapers were on his tail, and now he could act accordingly.

Odessa swore he winked in her and Sherry's direction on his way out.

Mitchell sent out the rest of the team while he remained in the room with Odessa and Sherry. He loomed over the tray, looking ready to break them both in half. His hands even flexed at his sides as he gathered himself.

"What the fuck was that?" he managed finally, each word coated in malice.

"He was going to kill us both," Odessa said calmly.

She was prepared when the weight of his hand fell on her, but nothing could help the pain of her ribs crushing against her lungs.

"Like I give a shit," Mitchell hissed. "Snakes die. That's how it goes."

"If you're willing to let your best snake die over one creep, you're a fucking moron."

He pulled out his work phone, which didn't surprise her in the slightest. She took the deepest breaths she could manage, though it wouldn't do her much good. He was going to choke her until she passed out—it wasn't the first time. But when he finished tapping at the screen and looked down at her with relish, her collar didn't tighten.

Sherry gave a shrill squeal. She fell to her knees, clawing at the collar. Odessa gasped and bucked uselessly, every one of her injuries smarting as she fought.

"Quit it!" Odessa pleaded. "It's not her fault! I made the call!"

"She's nothing but a distraction to you," he said grimly. "Maybe this will show you what happens when you let your precious little wants get in the way."

He let her up, and she rushed to Sherry. It wasn't mercy; he intended for Sherry to die in her arms.

"If I lose her, you lose me!" Odessa shouted. "I'll fuck up every job, and you can choke me to death, too! Now stop!"

Mitchell let it go on for a few more seconds, but he did stop, looking weary. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Odessa? You ruined a perfectly set-up sting because you couldn't let your girlfriend take a little punishment."

"It won't happen again. I know she can survive now. I'm going to train her until she's perfect, for real this time."

He paced in front of them while Sherry wheezed and leaned against Odessa for support.

"The station's not gonna go under just because two little snakes are gone," Mitchell said, coming to a stop in front of them. "Either she's an asset or a problem. She'll make it clear which one when she goes on her first solo job."

With that, he scooped up Sherry, leaving Odessa alone on the tray. At first, she was confused as she watched Sherry get handed off to Agent Taylor in the hallway. But as Mitchell shut the door behind him and started taking off his jacket, she knew precisely what was happening.

She wanted to collapse and sob and beg that she couldn't take anymore tonight, but she was better than that. She held her ground as he loosened his tie and gave her a deeply possessive look.

"Well, my shift's over just about over," he said. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You want to keep your cute little girlfriend? Convince me."

At dawn, Sherry padded to Odessa's room. It had been stripped bare of incentives, including the sheets on the walls. It was as empty as Sherry's now. Her clothes were standard issue. A small spot of blood seeped through the cloth bandage on her arm. She couldn't trade for salve. She had nothing.

Well, not nothing, Sherry decided. She could have been confiscated just as easily.

Sherry crawled up beside Odessa, whispering an apology when she startled her. Odessa lay with her back to the doorway, curled into herself. No blankets. No pillow. Just the two of them. Sherry wrapped her arms around her from behind.

"Hey, queen," she whispered. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened before."

"That doesn't mean you're okay." Sherry slipped a hand to Odessa's ribs. "Sorry," she murmured when Odessa flinched.

"No, it's alright." Odessa placed a hand over hers, using it to rub a slow circle on the sore spot. Then she guided Sherry's hand higher and left it on her breast. Sherry squeezed gently and ran her thumb up and down. As right as it felt, Sherry stopped herself.

"Aren't you tired of being touched?" Sherry murmured.

"You're not them." Odessa's voice sounded tight. "You're soft. You could never hurt me."

Moving Odessa's hair out of the way, Sherry pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, trailing up until she reached her jaw, her cheek. Her lips brushed Odessa's ear. "Tonight may have been a bust, but on a normal job, it must feel good to put away sick fucks like that bartender," she whispered.

Odessa gave a weak laugh. "You're buying into the bullshit, huh? Saving the world? You realize we're not helping anyone, right? Just sending off our 'rescues' to a different circle of hell."

"At least the sick fucks are joining them along the way."

Odessa turned in Sherry's arms to face her more fully. "Rebels join them just the same. Tell me you know that."

Sherry was quiet for a moment, feeling an odd sting of guilt for something she hadn't even done yet. "I know."

She reached for Odessa's chin and gently guided it closer. Their lips touched softly at first, then fell into deeper, more frantic kisses. The fluorescents beat down mercilessly on them. Anyone could watch, but they didn't care.

"I think I'm ready to start doing my job," Sherry said between kisses as they leaned their foreheads together.

Odessa snorted. "I can't tell if you're lying."

"Then I know I'm ready."

#gt #gt writing #giant #tiny #giant tiny #gt horror #my writing #print universe #trinket universe #heart of gold #playing with fire #odessa #sherry #agent mitchell #agent taylor #james #size difference #mywriting

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ourcorny · 3 years

Text

charactersssss (a constant wip)

annie morris … twenty-five. currently haunted by her paintings and doodles. how embarrassing! waitress, artist, medicated for an illness she doesn’t has. is actually just from a bloodline of cursed female creative types. more info can be found @tghluck. (fc: mary elizabeth winstead)

edward ainsley … sixteen years old, is actually fifty-seven, vegan vampire. utterly disliked by his vampiric peers due to his being turned into a vampire in his youth, rendered sixteen years old for life. has a tendency towards alcoholism in order to silence his cravings for blood since he deems vampirism altogether unethical. more info found @pastytwat (fc: craig roberts)

robbie moore … fifty. always one of those too big for his own boots kinda guys – one of the ‘i’m jumping ship as soon as hit eighteen’ types. that’s what he did, and that’s when he absolutely fucked it. ran his mouth too loud for too long and ruined any chances he had anywhere he went. robbie is a writer but his unwillingness to compromise with his work leaves him unable to find any real place in the industry. an absolute self publishing expert. to pay the bills he’s an english teacher but there’s no real passion for it. he came back to his hometown after struggling his way around the country and settled down in a marriage with his high school sweetheart that turned sour quickly. the pair never had children and were heading to a painful divorce when his wife passed away suddenly. years down the line and he’s still trying to wrap his head around it. jesus fuck this guy. (fc: marc maron)

tara shaw … thirty-four. owner of SHAWSPB, an independent publishing company ran (run? past tense…? it’s confusing) by one tara shaw, someone who needs to work on her social skills. as it seems, you can actually only reject so many people so many times before it bites you in the ass. more specifically (and more accurately), you can only reject so many people so meanly after you fire the companies’ reader because they’ve let one too many trashy reads out of the slush pile and you have to start wading through the heaving thing yourself. opening manuscripts seemed well and good and safe enough because all you’d be facing is words that were crappy in a worst case scenario, until late one night, you stumble upon something that a sour faced rejectee (yes, one that landed themselves with a personalised handwritten and very specific rejection from the woman herself) gets their pages in the pile. tara opens it and finds that it’s no story at all. it’s a string of nonsense – words that don’t exist, script she’s not sure she’s ever seen before, but transfixed on the page, tara shaw reads the thing front to back and the second she puts the papers down is hurtled into the space time continuum, left to float around in there til something grounds her back into the real world, when or wherever that is. it’s an act of karma, or something, and whenever she lands she pukes her guts out because that’s what that kind of thing does to the human body apparently. (fc: natasha lyonne)

genevieve walsh … seventeen. was made fun of in year six for choosing to go to an all girl’s catholic secondary school, her classmates saying that she would end up a lesbian. she did, though it was unrelated to her formal teaching. very unrelated. she has too much going on and is too moody for her own good. extra info can be found @genegrieve.

morrigan kenny … age unknown. bringer of the apocalypse. wanders earth with her way too long hair (it collects twigs and mud) looking for someone to spend the rest of the end with.

alex … thirty-odd (undisclosed actual age) years old. she is yet to learn to do her taxes, and is for all intents and purposes: a con-woman. arguably not an ethical profession, charging the old and the gullible for exorcisms and that of a supernatural variety while having no knowledge of the subject. but a girl’s gotta make a living — volunteering yourself for stand up gigs at the same place night in night out with little to no compensation doesn’t provide much. she’s a kind person, if you ignore the conning, and is decent to talk to. will give away any information. whoops. (fc: jenny slate)

lou webster … seventeen. modern prophet. refuses touch with good reason (skin on skin means she see the other person’s skin melting off, right to the bone). regularly sees the end of the world and it gives her stomach aches. (fc: natalia dyer)

liv o'dell … twenty-nine. screaming messy would probably win the lottery (the luck of her) if she ever tried it, multiple time accidental murderer. makes no sense. is rude. is annoying. has a surprisingly sweet daughter (kitty). more info @heavyroads

betty cloverfield … a twenty one year old motormouth who can’t hold down a single thing she’s meant to. she happens to have recently induced some type of magenta sensitive dissonance in her sensory processing that she can’t shake. it’s speculated by many that she’s taken one too many poppers and it’s taken its toll. (fc: kat dennings)

aiden ryder … seventeen years old. the angstiest, quietest idiot with four fully charged portable chargers to hand at any moment you will ever know. heavily associated with @optimistsclub (fc: jack kilmer)

mert james ... 21. a children’s author, the writer and illustrator of the BEWARE GIANT CREATRUES series. he has many reasons to not want to leave his house and most surround the obvious images conjured in the phrase hatemyself1999 — hate myself (explanatory) and 1999 (dexter ‘mert’ james’ birth year. also self explanatory once you know this fact). all that said, he does in fact leave his house. teaches drums to kids. none of them practise and it makes him insane. in a running circuit of bands where none of the members are committed. that, or he’s misjudging their commitment and giving them nothing when they do in fact care and then he is the dick. music snob, deadpan snarker, karma houdini, middle child syndrome, world of cardboard, can’t get away with nuthin, i coulda been a contender!

lazyguts / victoria ... suicide/eating disorder mention. i’m writing her through ages 17-19 and here’s the brief overview/context: lazyguts lost all of her friends the year before she went off to university as a result of her total withdrawal [causes being a) her brother attempting to kill himself (he survived but it’s very confusing to grieve a hypothetical especially when you’re not supposed to talk about it) and then b) her already struggling with food issues getting worse worse worse. these two things alone are not the reasons as no one else explicitly knows about them, but the adverse effects of these things combined make her difficult to be around/hard to maintain a friendship with her. all very tragic, but still happens. uno].going to a uni where she doesn’t know anyone seems like the best move. she does. she makes friends with a girl called olivia and they become mad close very quickly. this lasts maybe two months until lazyguts starts locking herself away in uni room and doesn’t see much of anyone at all. she has to drop out on mental health reasons just before the end of her first year. she moves back home and lives miserably and very solitary. she and olivia have long lost touch by this point. a few months later she sees an in memoriam post up on olivia’s social media from some of olivia’s friends saying how tragic the loss is, etc/ olivia had killed herself. the post had said something about a project for the close friends of olivia and she tentatively sends a message despite having never really known the girl. anyway, after quite a few ‘exaggerations’ and then a few straight up lies, she ends up super into the friend group of olivia’s based on the lie of being a long-time friend of hers. she’s not sure why the lie comes out nor why she keeps it going. it’s something to cling onto so she does. best way to put it is she’s very dear evan hansen about it, lying lying lying lllyyyinng. eventually she’s caught out but we’re not there yet (fc: odessa a’zion)

dale knox ... 30ish. painter/decorator. info literally not ever written out before. he’s lovely and in a constant state of stress! affiliated with @fullyfungi (fc: aidan turner)

lenny gata ... 26. lonely funeral poet. followed by a select few of the unknown dead #irl after an accidental latin spell read out at a graveside (not her fault, literally not her fault - she read this out in good faith). caught ignoring them/walking them to their homes depending on the day. (fc: aubrey plaza)

millie matthews ... 17. half part antichrist. the other half is her twin sister (#MISSING). currently, unfortunately, sadly, disappointgly, worryingly, being tracked down.

more tbaaaaaaaa thank you thank you

#cast.#ignore the state of this blog #the STATEEE

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fulcrumahsokaamidala · 5 years

Text

Sunday Spectacular #24

Happy Sunday!!! So this is me thanking awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and all the time they put into their fics. ♥️ I want to recommend spectacular fanfic stories I read this week! ♥️ They are posted in the order I read them. All posts will be tagged #spectacular fic rec

Last week I didn’t post because it was my last week before spring break. I had so much homework that I didn’t read fic almost at all. I’m just adding what I read the week before to this post.

A Soul Lost at Sea by @tinaday3w | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Olicity Victorian AU - Five years after pirates attacked his ship, Royal Navy sailor Oliver Queen returns home to England to find his affluent family in financial ruin. So when he’s presented with the opportunity to marry Felicity, eldest daughter of the ridiculously wealthy Noah Smoak, Oliver doesn’t hesitate to capture her hand…even though he has no idea if he can capture her heart. Or if Felicity could ever possibly learn to love a soul lost at sea.

Pieces of Always by @so-caffeinated | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end.

A Surefire Guide to Getting Over Your Ex by lilbluednacer | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Felicity and Oliver can totally start sleeping together without ruining their friendship… right?

An Island Of His Own Making by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Oliver broke up with Felicity and Tommy because it was the right thing to do, at least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

The Green Arrow Did It by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: Tommy is on the other side of the country. Oliver is at work. Felicity is home alone with the twins. The twins might be ninjas.

Pas de Deux by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: With Oliver gone, Felicity and Tommy need to figure out who they are as a couple.

Workouts and Babbles by ElasticMonk | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Oliver comes to the rescue of one cute blonde at his gym just as Felicity stumbles upon one handsome mayor at her gym. They both have something in common, but will it bring them happiness?

The Daughter That Was Left Behind by @laxit21| Arrow | WIP

Summary: Before the Gambit, Oliver Queen met QC intern Felicity Smoak. When he boarded the Gambit, he left something behind. Now, five long years later someone is waiting for him.

Artemis by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When the Queen’s Gambit sank, two people were stranded on Lian Yu. Five years later, four came back.

in another world (just the two of us) by @inlovewithimpossibillity | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: She knows she has no right, no place here to say anything about it, but she can’t help the images that flash through her brain. A different Connor, with a kinder face and no facial hair, a different Mia too for that matter, in a completely different place. Somewhere darker and grimier, as if the filter that seems to shine over Star City has been removed.

[When Dinah and Laurel restore the rest of FTA's memories, Mia and Connor talk through some of their issues... or at least they try to. It's a little hard when you have two lives' worth of memories in your head.]

The Miracle of the Avenging Angel by @realityisoverrated-fic | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: It's a typical weekend in the Merlyn-Queen-Smoak household. Temple on Friday night, church on Sunday morning, and a whole lot of smut and confusion in between. It's the 20th anniversary of the arrival of the Green Arrow in Starling City and Prue has an unusual interpretation of her superhero father.

(your love is) always on my mind by @inlovewithimpossibillity | Arrow | One-shot

Summary: She’s clearly taken some time to get ready and that thought alone has Oliver’s heart beating out of his chest at an abnormal rate. The concept that she wanted to look nice for him makes his heart glow in a way he’d forgotten it even could. And good lord, she looks so much more than nice.

[An evening set between 6x03 and 6x04 because we all know these two couldn't keep their hands off one another]

Baby Daddy by more0rLessJess | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Bartender Oliver Queen was living his twenties to the fullest, he lived with his best friend John Diggle, and his brother in everything but blood, Tommy Merlyn just moved into their apartment as he started his professional baseball career for the Starling City Rockets. On top of that, his childhood best friend Felicity Smoak, who was no longer goth and instead blonde and beautiful, was back in town and they were hanging out again. Oliver thought his days were going to be filled with partying, one night stands, and boys weekends while also spending quality time with the girl everyone kept telling him he was in love with. Until his ex-girlfriend dropped a baby on his doorstep who turned out to be his son. After a lot of thought and Felicity Smoak pep talks, Oliver decides to keep and raise his son with the help of his friends. Or the AU fic inspired by the Freeform sitcom Baby Daddy that no one asked for but I needed to write. Aka Oliver and Felicity are childhood friends and are hopelessly in love with each other and everyone knows but them, oh and now they’re raising a baby. What could go wrong?

It’s in the Air by @emmilynestill | Arrow | WIP

Summary: December 23, 2016. It’s Mayor Queen’s first-holiday party and love is in the air.

No, wait, that’s tension in the air. Bitterness. Regret. Painful longing for one’s former love. Awkward interactions with current significant others. A little humiliation mixed in. Yup, this was one great party.

Then the gas came.

Maybe love was in the air afterall.

**Just my usual lock Oliver and Felicity in a room with a mind-altering substance with a dash of holiday magic thrown in. And, by magic, I mean Sex Pollen. And maybe a little Truth Serum to stir things up.**

Always Been You by @smoaking-greenarrow | Arrow | WIP

Summary: On Oliver's last night in Starling, Tommy throws him a yacht party. When his little sister and her best friend show up, Oliver has a hard time hiding the torch he's always carried for Felicity. But he's leaving in the morning... They both know it can only be a one-time thing...

From Russia with Love by griever11 | Arrow | Completed

Summary: Rookie FBI Agent and resident IT extraordinaire Felicity Smoak has just landed the assignment of a lifetime. Together with Supervisory Senior Agent Diggle, she returns to Starling City undercover in an attempt to flush out the elusive Odessa gang that has been a thorn in the Bureau's side for many years.

Leader of the Russian mob Oliver Queen stumbles upon a piece of information that unfortunately requires a certain set of hacking skills that no one he knows seems to possess. Lucky for him, he comes across an unusual criminal hacker who has mysteriously turned up in Starling and funnily enough, seems just right for the job.

How's that for perfect timing?

All Her Firsts by @callistawolf | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Felicity Smoak visits Starling with her high school decathlon team, prepared for a week of intellectual rigors. What she doesn’t expect is the emotional roller coaster that follows as she begins to fall for her host- the totally-out-of-her-league Oliver Queen.

Almost Lover by lust_muffin | Arrow | WIP

Summary: After the siege, after the whole mess with Slade Wilson, after telling Felicity he loved her without meaning it (but totally meaning it), things hadn’t been great between them. Tension was running high, they had problems communicating when that was something that never happened before and Laurel… Laurel was making everything worse. Until one night, she went too far. And that was the point that changed their lives forever.

Or a “what would Oliver and Felicity’s life be like if they got together sooner?”

It's A Long Corgi... by @alexiablackbriar13| Arrow | One-shot

Summary: William accidentally, secretly adopts a corgi puppy.

Felicity and Oliver eventually find out. Eventually.

Daughter of the Demon by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: What if in 1988 while traveling through Las Vegas Ra’s al Ghul bumps into a nice waitress named Donna Smoak and they have one-night stand together? A little bundle of joy named Felicity Smoak is the result. In 2014, the Demon Head becomes aware of his youngest daughter’s existence.

The Ravager by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Slade Wilson’s plan for revenge against Oliver took time, money and no shortage of lives to pull together. His plan didn’t anticipate Felicity Smoak. How will his plan change now that his lost-lost daughter is working with the very man he’s trying to destroy?

Felicity of Themiscyra by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: Years ago, Donna Smoak left the island of Themiscyra and her sister Queen Hippolyta behind to live in man’s world. She never told Felicity the truth about where she came from. As a result of the Undertaking, Felicity discovers some of her Amazonian abilities and makes an interesting new friend: Diana Prince.

I Scream But No Sound Comes out by @laxit21 | Arrow | WIP

Summary: When Oliver returns from Lian Yu after five years, he comes back different. What happened there damaged more than just his body. How will his friends and family deal with this new Oliver?

#spectacular fic rec #weekly fic recs

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kasspasia · 6 years

Note

Your works are superb 🙌👏. I check this blog everyday, it certainly is amazing. For my prompt; how about Kass being injured/with fever/in+out of consciousness for days dreaming of Aspasia, who is actually there taking care of her. Kass wakes up suprised to see Aspasia there and asks how long has she been out of it? "You've been here this whole time? Why?" Please and thank you 😊

Thanks for the prompt! Im actually going to continue on from this prompt here :D

Her vision was a blur. All Kassandra knew for certain was the pulsating burn from her side that flashed in the darkness of her bordering consciousness. Faces blurred in and out of her vision - expressions of concern, anger and fear melting and contorting with the burning pain. Myrrine, Barnabas. Pulsating pain, sweats and shaking. Phoibe, Odessa, Roxana. At one point she was positive a familiar goat stared down at her - its eyes staring into hers before its face split open to reveal a spear that pierced into her shoulder.She struggled to see the shadowed face at the other end of the spear - desperate to see who was causing her this excruciating and endless pain. A shadowed mask with blood for tears molded from the darkness – its painted mouth curving into a familiar smirk.

Odessa chewed at her lip in worry while trying to wipe some ofthe sweat from Kassandra’s writhing body. The gaping gash on her side was festering slightly from infection and the misthios was suffering from it. They had been travelling for nearly two days to Naxos from the small island that they had been on and only a few hours travel remained.

“I don’t know how much longer either of them are going to last.” Roxana murmured, doing the same actions to Aspasia who lay next to Kassandra. Her body was drenched in sweat but she was semi-conscious lying on her uninjured side with her hand resting on Kassandra’s chest. They had managed to pull the spear out and get the wound tightly wrapped and covered to prevent excess bleeding.

“She’ll make it.” Aspasia managed to whisper weakly and lifted her arm up enough to wipe sweat drenched hair away from Kassandra’s eyes. “She has too.” Her words seemed more to herself than the other two causing Roxanaand Odessa to shoot each other a look over the two women.

As the ship pulled into the docks of Naxos the dock workers stared at the damaged ship – the figurehead burnt and blackened and a sizeable dent crushed into the side of the ship with splintered wood barely holding together. Barnabas ordered they fetch Myrrine and her guard in emergency for medical attention. Roxana and Odessa dropped Kassandra’s arms over each of their shoulders to carry her up the stairs and onto the deck. A secondary lieutenant attempted to help Aspasia but she brushed her off, holding her injured arm to her chest.

“Look after Kassandra.” She grunted and slowly pulled herself up the stairs. By the time they had managed to get both woman to the docks Myrrine and her guards skidded to a stop on their horses – the older womans face wrought with concern. She ordered the guard to set down the makeshift stretchers.

“What happened!?” She demanded, crouching down to inspect her daughter – throwing a glance at Aspasia who was kneeling next to Kassandra. Aspasia’s jaw was clenched and she had her hand on Kassandra’s arm, staring intently at her face.

“We were attacked by pirates hired by Deimos – your son.” She hissed. Myrrine let out a slight gasp. “Why they thought kidnapping me was going to be of use I do not know.” She continued under her breath, staring at Kassandra’s pain ridden face intensely.

“Kassandra risked herself to save you, I assume?” Myrrine said as two guards lifted the stretcher. Aspasia pulled herself up with a grunt of pain gripping her arm - refusing to answer - and followed the guards, keeping her hand on Kassandra’s arm as they walked up toward the leader house. Kassandra’s eyes fluttered open and she glanced around in confusion.

“Kassandra?” Aspasia muttered, noticing before anyone else that she was conscious. She tightened her grip on the misthios arm as Kassandra tried to sit up. “Lie down, it’s okay.”She whispered. Kassandra fell back on the stretcher her eyes struggling to focus on the face in front of her. It warped – twisting and blurring one moment with blood running down it and the next white as a ghost. The same dark eyes staring into hers.

“You died.” Kassandra gasped out, gripping Aspasia’s hand to the point of the latter grimacing from the pain. “I stabbed you, I killed you.” She rambled as her head rolled back and she screwed her face up at the pulsating pain in her side.

“I’m alive Kassandra and I’m here.” Aspasia murmured in urgency as Kassandra’s face slackened as she fell unconscious again – her tight grip loosening and dropping. “Hurry up!” She shouted at the guards who were struggling a little with the weight as they approached the house.

Kassandra felt a floating sensation as if rocking on a ship made of cushions. She opened her eyes to a dark room and glanced around in confusion as her heart raced. A shadowed figure stood to the side and she sat up glancing around and realising she was not in the ships cabin. A strange room with swords and spears hanging from the walls all pointed toward her. She felt sweat beading on her brow and turned to the figure next to her.

“Aspasia?” She whispered. The figure leant forward and wiped the sweat off her brow with a damp cloth.

“Who else?” The familiar teasing tone caused her to relax slightly, the tension in her muscles easing. Aspasia’s face wavered into her vision causing the misthios to smile gently.

“How did you survive?”Kassandra asked trying to distract herself from the spears that were pointing at her. Aspasia sighed deeply and placed the cloth in the bowl of water next to her as she shook her head. In the distance a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room. The spears shook as if threatening to fall as a loud clap of thunder filled the air. Aspasia climbed onto the bed next to Kassandra.

“It’s okay. I am here with you and I am not going anywhere” She murmured and brushed her hand down Kassandra’s face.

“Aspasia…” Kassandra could hear her voice breaking slightly and lay back down next to the other woman. “Why are you here though?” She was so tired. Aspasia’s fingers traced down her neck then down to her side. As they traced across the skin, they left a searing pain. Kassandra grabbed her hand with a grimace to try and stop the pain –glancing up at Aspasia in shock. Darkness had enveloped the woman and nothing but her floating pale face was visible as the pain shut down Kassandras consciousness again and she let out a scream.

The physician stood up and wiped his hands as his assistant placed the still burning red blade into a pot of water causing steam to spray into the air. Myrrine stood up quickly from the stool she had next to Kassandra who lay motionless on the bed. Aspasia stood in the corner of the room, her uninjured arm covering her mouth and her injured arm held up in a sling.

“We have burnt away the dead flesh and stopped the bleeding.” The physician explained as they headed to the door. Aspasia walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, caressing Kassandras hand. “As long as you keep the wound clean and covered there should be no reason that she won’t make a recovery.” Myrrine followed them out the door as they continued discussing her condition. Aspasia quickly got up and closed the door behind them before returning to the bed. She sighed as she lay down next to Kassandra, closing her ears as fatigue overcame her body. The physician had also deemed her wounds to be okay and had strapped her arm and placed it in a sling. After a few cups of wine the pain had dulled enough for her to be comfortable.

“You are truly a gift.” She murmured into Kassandra’s ear. “Thank you for saving my life – placing it above your own.” Kassandra’s face contorted slightly in what Aspasia presumed was pain and gave her a chaste kiss on the check before resting her face into the cove between Kassandra’s neck and shoulder as the fatigue overcame her.

Kassandra awoke with a gasp, sitting up in bed and yelping at the ache on her side. She glanced down to see a heavy bandage wrapped around her torso. She looked around the room, shaking slightly in expectation of the spears pointed at her but found herself in herroom at Myrrines manor in Naxos. Her body felt weak but the previous searing pain had reduced to consistent dull throb. She could hear rain on the roof and a slow rumble of thunder. Shivering slightly, unsure if from the pain or fevers she glanced down at the sleeping form next to her. Aspasias face was pressed inthe pillow, her arm wrapped in bandages and slinged. She had changed out of the blood soaked and ruined dress and was wearing what was clearly one of Kassandras sleeping chitons. It was slightly oversized on her shorter and smaller frame and fell off her injured shoulder. The tightly wrapped bandages had a small spot of blood soaking through from the wound. Kassandra felt herstomach churning at the memory of her spear piercing the woman and quickly bent over the side of the bed to vomit.

“Kassandra are you okay?”Aspasias voice was sleepy and Kassandra felt her hand caressing her back as she retched and fell back on the bed panting. Her wounded side ached from the muscles tensing. She kept her eyes closed, unable to look at Aspasia without the guilt threatening to overcome her.

“How long have I been unconscious for?” She questioned dropping her arm over her eyes as her breathing settled. She felt Aspasia shifting next to her.

“Apparently we were both unconscious for two days on The Adestria.” Aspasia explained, her weight shifting off the bed and her footsteps leading away. “You’ve been in here for about another three days.” A pause. Kassandra glanced out from under her arm. Aspasia was standing at the side table staring at whatever was in her hands.“We thought we were going to lose you.” Aspasia’s voice cracked slightly and she cleared her throat and came back to the bed holding a jug of water and balancing a cup on her good arm. “Here, you should drink.” She said and struggled to pour the water with one hand – cursing under her breath as the cup tipped and a small amount of water splashed on the bed. Kassandra finally sat up and caught Aspasia’s gaze. Her eyes were red, dark rings obvious against the paleness of her normally tan face.

“You’ve been looking after me the whole time?” Kassandra asked softly, taking the jug from the other woman.

“Of course.” A moment of silence as Kassandra took a small sip of water.

“Why?” She said, avoiding the other womans frowns by looking into her cup.

“Why?” Aspasia repeated in confusion.

“Why did you look after me after what I did to you - and failed to do.” Kassandra murmured glancing up to see Aspasia’s incredulous expression.

“Failed to do? You saved my life. As you have done many times before.” She exclaimed. “I could not have aclear conscious if I was to leave you suffer.” Standing up in disbelief, Aspasia began pacing as she did when she was upset or frustrated.

“If you did it out of obligation or debt you don’t need to bother.” Kassandra said, somewhat sternly and hurt. “You do not owe me for saving your life. Not after I risked it and injured you in the meantime.” Aspasia’s jaw dropped open and she let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Do you really think I stayed by your side nursing you because I felt obligated too?” She almost yelled.Kassandra frowned slightly.

“Why else-“

“Because I fucking care so much about you!” Aspasia interrupted with a yell and slammed her uninjured armon the bed. “I have been by your side because I have been terrified that you were going to die and it was my fault for being so weak.” Kassandra stared ather with open mouthed shock. “I couldn’t help you.” Aspasia said quietly. Kassandra placed the cup down and slid across the bed and wrapped her arms around Aspasia carefully to ensure she did not hurt her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Aspasia.” She whispered, holding the woman as tightly as she could. “I’m sorry for injuring you and for not being there to protect you, for making you worry.” Aspasia returned the embrace sighing in relief and feeling the worry of the past few days leave her body at the realisation that Kassandra was going to be okay. She pulled out of the hug and lifted her hand to hold in front of Kassandra’s face.The misthios stared at it in confusion for a moment before she broke into agrin.

“You are wearing the ring I found you.” She said, almost with a bragging tone. Aspasia smiled and gave hera chaste kiss on the cheek.

“I put it on the moment I woke up.” She glanced down at it before smirking back at Kassandra. “At least you finally found one that was not ugly.” She said with a wink. Kassandra rolled her eyes, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you. For staying by my side.” She said seriously. “I dreamt about you, you know. I was in so much painI did not know what reality was. But you were there, both in my dreams and reality.”Kassandra admitted. Aspasia kneeled on the bed and gave her a lingering kiss.

“I do not plan on going anywhere anytime soon.” She assured the misthios. “So perhaps you should stick with reality.”

#kasspasia #kassandra x aspasia #kassandra #aspassia #assassins creed odyssey fanfic #ac odyssey fanfic

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cecilspeaks · 6 years

Text

136 - The Mudstone Abyss Part 2

Kevin: Age is just a number that counts quickly upward to an ending point.

Welcome to Desert Bluffs.

Hello, Desert Bluffs! Let’s start there. Let’s start with a greeting, a simple hello and of course, a huge smile. Then let’s move right into the good news, the happy news.

Charles and I went on our first date many weeks back, and it was magical! I met up with him in the new town square, which is a sand dune with a cow skull on it. I was wearing my best rabbit fur coveralls and rainbow-striped head band. He was wearing a rose gold lame cravat and soccer shin guards. We went to eat at Desert Bluffs’ newest restaurant, Vermillion, which specializes in lip meat. We shared a bottle of Cabernet and talked comfortably about all the things you shouldn’t talk about on a first date. Politics – we’re both theocrats -, religion – we were both raised in the arborial faith -, sex – we both have had it – and banking. We had some polite disagreements here. Later we went back to my house next to the Temple of Joy. It had been a long time since either of us had had - [chuckling] well, I don’t wanna share too much. So I’ll skip to the next morning, where over coffee we talked about our dreams, or rather dream. It was that same shared dream that all Desert Bluffs citizens have every night with the birds flying in seemingly random directions over the cornfield before crashing their bodies into the ground. Charles, being new in town, had a lot of questions about this dream. But I said that the dream is nothing more than a simple pleasure we all share as a community. It’s fun to know that the whole time sometimes wakes up at the exact same time, sweating and screaming for joy!

After enriching conversation and strong coffee, he said he had to go meet someone. When I asked who, he said, “We’ll talk about it later, it’s not a big deal.” He kissed me and I smiled like I have not smiled in years. I smiled so hard that every glass object in my kitchen exploded all at once. A lacerating confetti of joy.

An update on the construction of the new Mudstone Abyss. Mayor Lauren Mallard reported today that the dig is behind schedule. She sighted a shortage of workers. She had planned for a larger turnout of labor, but this simply has not manifested. I’m disappointed to hear this, Desert Bluffs, but it’s certainly understandable. We all have jobs and responsibilities, and making time to contribute to the building of this great monument can be difficult. Desert Bluffs is a place of hope, of renewal, of refuge for those in need and above all, of joy. The Mudstone Abyss is a celebration of all those things, and I tell you now that the reward will be great. Not just the reward of being devoured by the Smiling God, but the reward of your eternal impact on your town. Think of the Rapa Nui people who built the Moai, or the proud union workers who erected that deco masterpiece, the Chrysler Building. Or the time traveling street artist collective known as Banksy, who built Stonehenge.

Every great monument is built by human hands, and those hands leave their artistry for generations to enjoy, discover, and study. The Mudstone Abyss will be a triumph of Desert Bluffs citizens, and later a tourist attraction, and later a historical landmark, and eventually a curious and misunderstood artefact of a long dead civilization. You can be part of this.

Mayor Mallard and I put our heads together and agreed that the solution here is to set up communes and camps along the dig site to make your commutes easier. Schools and businesses will go on half day schedules so that everyone can make time for the monument. Mayor Mallard, and I support her brilliant idea 100 per cent – believes this is the only task we should be focused on as a town. The Smiling God deserves a physical manifestation of our penitence and devotion. Desert Bluffs deserves a notable landmark, and best of all, if we all worked and lived together, we would get to know each other’s interests, cultures, languages, histories. If we worked together, we could become so much – closer.

And now a word from our sponsors. When we talk apocalypse, we talk fires and spires of smoke and screams and wars and horrid clouds of ash and floods. And this is a comforting vision, because it supposes we’re all in it together. But death is mostly something you keep to yourself. In all reality, the apocalypse is likely going to just be you alone in a room with the flu. Bed, Bath and Beyond: you’re going to need some new sheets.

So after my first date with Charles, we went out again the following week. I showed him around Desert Bluffs, I took him to the Sandy Blossom Bowling Alley and Arcade Joy Compound. We bowled that afternoon and played a few old video games like Ms. Pac-Man, Sleepytime Spider Swallower, and Horse Carcass, all the classics from our youth. We then went for a romantic walk along the beach. Charles thought it shouldn’t be called a beach because there was no body of water, but I pointed out that it was sand, and that there was water somewhere. How close the water is is all a matter of faith. He laughed, and I squeezed his hand. Then we went to the food truck park. He bought some cheese pirogues from the Odessa Dumplings truck, while I went to the Tex-Mex truck and got a burrito filled with fibreglass insulation and refried beans.

The food trucks weren’t nearly as classy as Vermillion, but food is only as good as the company you enjoy it with. And I really enjoyed my time with Charles. It’s hard to intimately connect to people especially as you get older, but my time with Charles made dating seem easy. Why would anyone choose to be single when they could just walk up to the perfect man and say “Let’s know each other”? When life is good, it’s hard to understand how it could have ever been bad.

After dinner, I suggested we could go get a drink together. Unfortunately Desert Bluffs doesn’t have any bars. Not for religious reasons, I explained to him. It’s just that no one’s been able to open one yet. The state places some pretty high taxes on hard liquor transported across dimensional rifts. So I offered to have him back over to my place for some more wine. But he said he had to be going. I protested. Charles said, “Kevin. You fill me with such joy, and I don’t wanna keep secrets. I should tell you I have a son. His name is Donovan and he’s five. He’s a sweet kid.” Charles said he moved here because Donovan starts school next year, and he wanted to raise his boy in a community based in happiness and positivity. But Charles is concerned about bringing dates home with him until he knows they will stay around for a while. “Kevin,” he said, touching my face along the socket of my left eye. “I think you would be great around Donovan.” My smile disappeared from my face. Not because I didn’t feel happy, but because I felt – so many things. My lips couldn’t express them all. He said, “I’m not suggesting we have to be serious right now, we have to figure that out with time.” He then said we should go back to his place, but on the way, he needed to pick up Donovan from Grandma Josephine, who has been babysitting. We spent the rest of the evening drinking sodas at his home. I wanted to touch Charles, to put my hand against his chest again, to kiss him with real passion. But instead we watched Donovan play with toy airplanes and Charles talked about the things parents talk about.

Donovan was nice, but I had to concentrate hard to keep my smile.

[long pause] An update on the construction of the Mudstone Abyss. Nearly everyone in town is now at the dig site, setting into their lean-to’s and pop tents and gathering up the appropriate tools for the physical labor ahead. Mayor Lauren Mallard said she is heartened by the outpouring of support in the past hour. We have made huge strides, already marking out our mile-wide parameter and deepening the pit to almost 1,000 feet. Some stone workers have even begun carving sacred texts from the Book of Devouring. I’m getting reports from the construction area that some of those etchings have begun to glow bright white, as the earth trembles beneath them. Wow! I’m getting chills just thinking about this!

There have been some scuffles among the workers, miscommunication and arguments that devolved into small fights. The Desert Bluffs police department sent two officers, who are also friends of mine from the Temple of Joy, Keon and Kelton, to break up some of these skirmishes. But more fights and arguments happened than they could control. Officers Keon and Kelton reported that parties involved in fights were shouting nonsense at each other. They initially thought some were non-English speakers, but they could not identify the languages. Then they saw young Ryan Nichols, who was an English major at Ala-bay-, Al-bama, at his former university, spouting absolute gibberish at another person. Keon and Kelton reported that sometimes people’s words sounded like normal English, but without any context or meaning, and at other times like unconventional noises that are not common to any human language. But everyone speaks passionately and personally, thinking they’re communicating what they mean, even though they were not. Apparently the fighting became pervasive enough that Mayor Mallard had to make a public address. Here’s a transcript of what she said.

“Desert Bluffs, please do not fight. Remember to take time to smile and relate to one another. If someone says something you do not understand or do not appreciate, simply cauliflower. Roomba starlight rice tank ship. Stallion the ballisters right on through, until balloons.” And then she repeated “until balloons” over and over, with complete conviction and passion. And eventually the fighting stopped, not because of the speech but because of sheer confusion and exhaustion.

As the fighting stopped, so did the construction. No one knew what anyone was saying, longtime friends could not find their words and so resorted to physical gestures. But even Jerry Kramer and his daughter Morgan, who communicate mostly through sign language, found that they could no longer comprehend any of the phrases.

More on this developing situation, but first a look at traffic. Near the dig site for the Mudstone Abyss, several hazy dark shadows, vaguely human-shaped, have begun to appear. They are drifting along city streets, which has caused nearly a dozen minor traffic.. uh.. a-ci-des. Ac-dicent. Acci..dents. There is a ten minute backup entering downtown along sci-fi novel. Al-along rhubarb. Ugh, I can’t oak tree, can’t sparrow modem. Spar-row mmodem. Sparrowmodem. That’s not right. I have to condensate. Ugh. Have to con-den-sate. Yellow refrigerator shelves.

I’m trying to say – crab grass to the petroleum!

[“She Left Without A Goodbye.” by Cerah https://soundcloud.com/cerahmusic]

Machine: First unheard message.

Charles: Kevin. Sorry to bother you, it’s Charles. I need you to get the word out that language doesn’t work right in Desert Bluffs. I haven’t found a single dictionary that expresses normal word structure, I’ve been recording and re-recording this message for the past hour and each time it comes out like alphabet soup. No syntax, no identifiable verbs, no words that even appear to fit together. But I did finally manage to find an old text you wrote about the souls of unpure, those whom the Smiling God cannot clean even upon devour. There’s a certain style of hat you described that can keep your thoughts and ideas pure. I-I drove over to your house, because I remember you had one just like this you told me you wore during sermons. Sorry for going through your stuff, but the hat seems to be working for now.

Anyway, based on my research, I think this dig is (loosing) those spirits back into the world and they’re causing… [whispers] There’s something at my door, Kevin. I-I need to go, OK? Call you back in well, I don’t know.

Machine: End of message.

Charles: [whispering] There’s a hazy dark shadow hovering about my front door, Kevin. It’s not knocking, it’s just hovering in front of my house. I can’t make out a face, I’m peering through a crack in the living room blinds to get a better look. Oh no, I think it saw me!

Machine: End of message.

Charles: OK, it’s gone I think. This giant yellow hat is really remarkable. Anyway, I wanted you to get the word out on your radio show about the dig and let your friend Lauren know as well. If we can fully (stop) this giant (pit), I think we can stem the return of these unpure souls, who I think are dismantling our language.

Also… I haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope bringing Donny around didn’t scare you off. If it did, please just tell me now, OK, I won’t be hurt. That’s a lie. I would definitely be hurt if you stopped seeing me because I have a child, but I won’t be bitter. That’s really it. I won’t be bitter if you tell me now. Now that I think of it, that’s not true either. I’ll be less bitter, less hurt, less angry if you tell me now.

Or maybe you’re busy. I know the Mudstone Abyss has all your attention these days and what with communication failing us, I’m sure it’s hard to think about having dinner or even, I dunno, like a family date. You and me and Donny, maybe a trip to the amusement park or… We were thinking about adopting a cat, is there an animal shelter in Desert Bluffs? That could be a really fun day together.

Either day, when you have a chance, just let me know you got this. I don’t wanna stop seeing you, but I’d rather know sooner than aquifer. Aquifer. What? I mean platter.

Kevin, that shadow is back. He’s not at my window anymore, he’s inside graft huts. No I mean – grant first, grapple wigs grapple wigs, Kevin I – handlebar cereal, OK? Handlebar cereal.

Machine: End of new message.

Today’s proverb: Girl, did you fall from heaven? ‘Cause there’s a giant crater where you landed and radiation levels are spiking.

#welcome to night vale #welcome to desert bluffs #welcome to night vale transcirpts #episode 136 #the mudstone abyss part 2 #the mudstone abyss

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sueboohscorner · 7 years

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#IntotheBadlands S2 Ep 2 & 3 “Force of Eagle's Claw” & “Red Sun, Silver Moon” Recap & Review

“Red Sun, Silver Moon”

Episode Grade 9

We pick up where we left on in the season finale and with Sunny Identity revealed, the Engineer sets a battle between Sunny and Mouse (don’t let the name fool you that guy was twice Sunny’s size). Sunny and Bajie are shackled together as punishment for Bajie ratting him out. "You’re going to live or die together,” the Engineer taunts. Sunny and Bajie take some hits but manages to block most of them and prevent Mouse from breaking Bajie's leg.

Bajie and Sunny manage to escape out of the pit, but Mouse catches up with Sunny and Bajie, and during the fight, Mouse pushes Sunny hazardously close to a giant spinning exhaust fan. Bajie gabs Mouse Machete and lodges it in the fan before it beheads Sunny, then they tried quickly to crawls out in-between the giant blades. Mouse grabs Sunny’s legs before he could get to the other side and Bajie pulls hard, and both Sunny and Mouse came through, and the machete drops out, and the fan started to spin again and Sunny fly-kicks Mouse, sending him into the spinning blades. Mouse’s body splashes on the Engineer's face who witness the entire thing and Sunny and Bajie escape.

The Widow's Sanctuary, Tilda is reprimanded by Waldo (who betrayed Quinn and changed alliances) for slaughtering a group of Clippers in Odessa’s honor after the Widow granted them their freedom. Waldo tells her that they are at war and that she should do away with her emotions, using Sunny as a reference. Tilda asks Waldo if he heard anything from the River King, but Waldo tells her that he thinks Sunny is dead, which made her assume the same is true of M.K.

Meanwhile, at the Totemist compound Lydia new home after being banned from the Fort, the community celebrates a wedding. Lydia thanked them for welcoming her back to the group. In the middle of her speech, a spear impales the groom to a tree, and two Nomads kill another Totemist woman and drag her away as the congregation bows to their knees in silent prayer. One of the Nomads holds a knife to Lydia’s father Penrith throat, but he doesn't react, but Lydia jumps in and stabs the Nomad in the stomach. Lydia fights the second Nomad and manages to kill him. Lydia find out if her father was ok, but to her surprise, he reprimanded her for her violent actions on their land telling her she had no right and they would have rather died that soil the lane with blood (ungrateful much).

Now to M.K at the Monastery, he wakes up from a nightmare to find The Master stands over him with an origami blossom and tells him to follow her and Tate notices. The Master takes M.K. to a room filled with mirrors, and M.K. stares at his reflections, the Master explains to M.K that the mirrors hold memories and then crushes the paper blossom in her hand, turning it to smoke and M.K. inhales it, and it sent him to the cargo hold. M.K is surrounded by bloody bodies, and hooded figure grabs him and then take off the hood revealing to be M.K. in his dark state sending him into a shock landing him back in the mirrored room. M.K. wakes up in the Master's personal chamber and realizes he killed the people on the ship, but The Master tells him that it was not him it was not him but the one who takes control. The Master urges him to claim his gift from his dark self before he can ever leave the Monastery.

Quinn promises redemption to the men who stayed loyal after the Fort was compromised.

Lydia pays Ryder's a visit at his new mansion formerly belonging to Jacobee, Lydia tells Ryder about the Nomad raid and tells him his help would make a good impression on his own worker Cogs, who are religious. She tells him that she is aware that his Cogs have been abandoning his poppy fields to fight for The Widow and offered Ryder her help but Ryder, defensively grabs her and reminds her of her lack of faith in him.

Ava tells M.K. that Tate ran away, as She inquiries about M.K.’s training telling him that she has never seen the Master take on a novice. M.K. confides in Ava telling her to think about the worst thing she's ever done. Ava admits they’ve all killed people. After a long talk with Ava, M.K. returns to the Master to face his dark self again. This time he's sent to the woods, where he hears his mother screaming from afar. He runs but is stopped by his dark self, who advises him to go back. The two get into a fight, M.K is badly hurt after getting a gut punch making his mouth fills with blood in the present. The Master strikes him with chi to bring him back from the mirror vision.

Quinn shares the history of baptisms in the Badlands, mentioning that he had neglected the ritual with Ryder, but fate has presented him with a second chance to baptize the Badlands' newest heir. Quinn caught the Loyalist he observes eyeing Veil and stabs him in the eye with a deer antler as a warning to the men. Veil watches as Quin drinks deer blood and brushes some across Henry's forehead.

Waldo brings The Widow news of Ryder’s invitation for all Barons to meet at a conclave. Telling her that if Ryder convinces the other Barons that she attacked the oil fields violated the Foundation Treaty, Waldo warns they can expect an attack. The Widow suggests gaining the upper hand by killing them all first. Waldo advice against the idea is telling her it was reckless and suggests a diplomatic approach, though he stands by the use of violence if the Barons initiate.

The next day, Quinn shows Veil to a tiny room where sunlight pours in through the ceiling. She smiles.

Sunny and Bajie continue their journey but reaches the top of a hill and looks down at a huge wall that runs the entire length of the Badlands. Bajie tells him that they can go through if you know the right people.

I really enjoyed the episode, the scene with Sunny and Money was very exciting, and although Bajie betrayed Sunny, in the beginning, he is growing on me. I am not sure if he will stay loyal to a Sunny bit if he is smart he would, as for Veil I hate that she saves Quinn even though he serves his purpose now protecting her to some extent. I am more Team Widow now that I know her true motive, but I am not sure if I trust Waldo, he just does strike me the person who want a free living. I said this because the advice Sunny last season about having a normal life.

“Red Sun, Silver Moon”

Episode Grade 9

Sunny and Bajie journey continues through the barren landscapes of the Outlying Territories. Sunny suspects that Bajie has no idea where they are, after bragging that he knows of a shortcut through the wall. Bajie tells Sunny of a smuggler named Nos that they could trade something in exchange for passage through a secret tunnel. Sunny does not like the idea of a smuggler. Naturally, it is how he ended up in this situation.

Sunny and Bajie arrives at a stone bridge and is immediately confronted by a swordsman stands in the middle telling them that they brought trouble with them. He throughs his ringed sword in Sunny’s direction and it passed Sunny's head, killing the attacker who was creeping up behind them. The swordsman informs them that there was a hefty bounty on their heads and that every Stalker with a rusty blade is after them. More men attacked, and both Sunny and the man fight them off together, and Bajie chokes one to death. The man tells Sunny to follow him telling him “Live or die, it's your choice.” On the way, Sunny and Bajie discusses their options, and Bajie mentions to him that the swordsman only saved them so he can kill them and collect the bounties for himself. As they looked over at him, they saw his tattoos which indicated that he was a Clipper. Sunny ignores Bajie's fears, and they continue to follow the swordsman.

We them see M.K. training diligently at the Monastery after which he visits the Master and requests to enter the Mirror Chamber once more, but the Master denies the request saying, “You must learn to stop fighting yourself.” She warns that if he pushes too far, the consequences could be deadly and not only for him.

Now to The Widow's Sanctuary were, Waldo, Tilda and the Widow discuss Ryder’s upcoming conclave where each Baron must arrive unarmed with their second-in-command, while Ryder's Clippers will be patrolling the perimeters for Nomads. In attendance should be six Barons. Therefore, The Widow needs at least two on her side. Waldo urges her to start winning some hearts and minds at the reception beforehand. The Widow told Tilda that she would not be joining her because she needed her there to be in charge of the Sanctuary and instructs her to blow up the oil fields if she doesn't return.

We then see Quinn cradles Henry reading him a story as Veil quickly fetches Quinn to perform an X-ray on him to diagnose the status of his continued headaches. Quinn complains to Veil how he was duped by his young bride, Jade, into thinking Lydia tried to kill her. Telling her “Trust is such a delicate thing.” Veil asks what he's preparing his men for, and he said, “We all pay for our sins, eventually.” Veil develops Quinn's X-ray, and hides the original film, which shows a growing tumor in his head, and shows him one of a healthy brain; they give him an opium-laced concoction to drink.

Sunny and Bajie, freshens up, sit around a fire while Sunny shaves his face. Sunny and Bajie mentions the Clipper of myths of a legendary Regent named Nathaniel Moon who left the Badlands and now hunted fugitives. Moon admits that it was him, but insists he's not out for their bounty. Moon explains why he left and Sunny mentions a woman waiting for him and Moon advise not going back, for her sake.

Back to Vail, as she was about to cut up the X-ray showing Quinn’s tumor, she is interrupted by Quinn's Loyalist Clippers Edgar, who needs stitches.

While Bajie sleeps, Sunny finds Moon training with his sword, and they had a conversation from which Sunny learns that Moon has 999 kills, and I learned that Sunny’s has 404. Moon tells Sunny why he keeps killing telling him he was waiting for someone good enough to be worthy of his thousandth tattoo. Sunny grabs a sword just as Moon points one at him. Moon admires

Back at the Monastery's M.K. hears a scream and follows the sound which leads him to see three Abbots carrying a trunk to a secret chamber and watches from outside the room as the Abbots haul Tate from the trunk and strap him to a table. Tate promises not to run away again, but one of the Abbots still switches on a control panel. Ava appears and drags M.K. away and explains to him that Tate was being cleansed for not following the rules, telling him that they are treats to the people outside. M.K. ask Ava to leave with him telling her that the Master is a liar because she’s simply afraid of them, but she refuses.

Sunny wakes Bajie to leave, but Moon blocks their way and requests a battle with a worthy opponent in exchange for giving them shelter. Sunny tells Bajie to find Veil if he doesn't make it back to the Badlands and gets into his fighting stance. Moon charges after him and the battle begins they fight until Moon loses sword, Sunny kicks him in the face and Moon fell to his knees with his mouth full of blood and thanks to Sunny for the fight as he prepares for an honorable death, but Sunny refuses and turns away. Moon charges after Sunny with his sword, but Bajie hurls a sword, slicing off Moon's hand. Moon bleeds out while Bajie takes Moon's signature ringed sword telling Sunny that it was their ticket out of here. Moon yell out at Sunny that he would leave a trail of bodies before he makes it back to his family.

The Widow and Waldo arrive at the conclave. Ryder and Jade greet them. The Widow smiled and said, “Let the fun begin.”

#IntotheBadlands #Into the Badlands

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creativeashproductions · 8 years

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Innocent [6]

Summary: Blake Ainsley’s always had a rule that she wouldn’t getting into a relationship with someone outside of SHIELD, the problem came in the form of a tall brunette hunter trying to be normal. Blake and Sam believe each other to be too innocent for the world they both know, one that involved chaos, death, blood and pain. Will they ever know about each others ‘real life’?

Characters: Blake Ainsley/OC x Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff

Words: 2664

Warnings: Swearing, blood, a little fluff, and a little angst.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

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He was reading his textbook with little attention as he kept glancing over to his phone sitting near the glass he had been drinking from. It was late but he couldn’t sleep when he didn’t know how his girlfriend was doing; no call had come since she left yesterday for her friend. Sam was starting to get exasperated with the life he had with Blake, knowing that it wasn’t healthy with all the lies and secrets they both held. He didn’t want her to see him as a mindless soldier raised by his father’s rage and revenge driven lifestyle. Yet he didn’t like not knowing where she went and why she came back bruised and battered sometimes. Not to mention when strangers such up to pick her up, Steve Rogers? God he hated that guy.

Who are the people that came to his door? Why hadn’t he ever heard of this Steve guy? Was he a hunter? No, he couldn’t be but he had the look of seeing too much horror. Sam pushed his textbook away knowing he wasn’t getting anything done with the place his thoughts were going currently.

“Come on.” Sam whispered looking at his phone in frustration. He was minutes away from calling her or tracking her. He didn’t want to dig up memories of doing this with Dean when they got worried about their dad.

Was it too goddamn hard to want a normal life that didn’t involve lies? Sam didn’t want to think he wasted years with Blake but they way things were going…well it was starting to seem so. He loved her, he imagined a long life with her but not the way it was going so far. He saw only two ways to go about this, confront her about how they’re living or leave her.

Throwing in the towel he climbed to his feet turning off the lamp on the small desk in the corner of the apartment. Retreating into the bathroom he grasped a bottle of liquid medication to help him sleep. He mostly denied using it in times of sickness but he knew without it he wouldn’t get a blink of sleep and he had class early.

“God.” Sam groaned as he saw her toothbrush by his. He went through his routine before crawling into bed to get some very much needed sleep, “Good night Blake. Wherever you are.”

They had managed to secure Steve’s motorcycle and a helmet for Blake, Steve didn’t want her head to be bashed in. He sped up when he saw the spikes coming up from the ground, it seemed like miles away.

“We’ve got company.” Blake called out as a quinjet moves in front of them.

“Stand down, Captain Rogers. Stand Down.” The pilot said even as the machine lowers out of the jet. Blake’s eyes had widened at the sight of it, “Repeat, stand down.”

Instead of surrendering they continue on by zigzagging through the bullets being fired at them. Blake at this point was freaking out slightly. Instead she gazes at the shield she was smushed against. With a quick moment of thought she yanks it of of Steve causing a slight sway before she throws it as hard as she can. It flies straight into the propeller leaving both Steve and her stunned. With a quick word she jumps on rolling until she stops in time. Whereas Steve continues on using his hands on the windshield of the jet to roll. Within seconds his shield is yanked back into his hands and slams his shield throughout the jet, causing both him and jet to roll throughout the sky.

All Blake can do it hold her hand to her move realizing how devastating the entire situation is. She's waiting with her breath held until Steve finally finishes by throwing the shield to the back. As it begins to go down he grabs his shield somehow gracefully lands on his feet beside his female friend.

“Sure you want to keep going?” Steve politely asks her, “You can still give up and go home.”

“And leave you all alone to be taken?” Blake smirks pushing his shoulder, “Can’t get rid of me.”

He nods before they race off with one destination in mind, to get what they need before hiding in order to figure out what the hell is going on. The trip to the hospital involves discovering some hidden clothing that Blake had placed in a secret bin.

“Do you think it’s still there?” Blake questions keeping her gaze off of everyone else.

“Has to. No one really eats that sugar-free stuff.” Steve smirks at her. Out of everyone he knew she was the closest thing he had to best friend and sister since Bucky fell.

“Very true. Sam sticks to healthy food.” Blake smirks thinking the man back in California.

“You have time to go back. You can leave this all behind.”

“I don’t think I can leave this life. Rogers, you can’t get rid of me and I think it’s high time to stop trying.”

The vending machine is right in front of them but the one thing they didn’t expect was to see the flash drive missing. A muttered curse word from him and he turned to her.

“Did you take it?”

“What the hell! No!” Blake exclaims. Yet his attention turns to the female chewing some sugar-free gum. It a pissed off state Natasha lets the super soldier push her into a room against the wall.

“Where is it?” Steve growls.

Blake takes a quick moment sweeping the area before sliding into the room and closing the door.

“Safe.” Nat replies tilting her head to the side.

“Do better Natasha.” Blake snarls from behind them, “My life is ending and you think it’s a fun time to play?” “Where did you two get it?” Nat questions. She glanced over at the other female in the room with little emotion. Typical for her.

“Why would I tell you?” Steve replies.

“Fury gave it to you, why?” Natasha asked them. She was watching Steve more so than Blake given that the former had a harder time lying.

“What’s on it?” Blake cuts in, “We all know that you wouldn’t leave that untouched. It’s not in your hacking brain to do so.”

“I don’t know. Not everything that can be connected to a computer I have the urge to get into.” Nat spits out.

“Stop lying.” Steve hisses out.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.”

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates didn’t you.” Blake moved closer feeling the sudden urge to strangle the red head.

“Well it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

“We’re not going to ask you again.” Steve threatens nearly backing up to let Blake continue the assault.

“I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.” Nat explains.

“No.” Blake whispers feeling her eyes widen at the memory of the man with the one flesh arm.

“So he’s a ghost story.” Steve says.

“Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot at my tires in Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, I was pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me.” Nat said raising her straight revealing a large healed bullet hole covered by nasty scaring, “A soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis.”

“Yeah I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve chuckles removing his hand. There’s a smile fighting to be seen on Nat’s face.

“Steve I’ve ran into his guy. My partner and I were sent over in the Middle East. A bigwig was there demanding immediate protection with the strong belief he was being watched. I go to check the perimeter and I’m just behind a tree when I hear the car blow up. I watched my partner of three years be blown to literal bits and watching that human disgrace walk off. Steve he’s cold and menacing. He will kill anyone that gets in his way. It’s nearly a goddamn miracle that Nat and I are alive.” Blake informed the blonde man as Nat pulls the flash drive out.

“Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried. Like you said, he’s a ghost story.” Nat says handing the drive over.

“Well let’s find out what the ghost wants.” Steve says.

“Road trip!” Blake exclaims removing some of the tension.

“Call Sam.” Steve tells her with a raised eyebrow. Blake winces knowing that while he’s right it would probably be the end of her relationship.

“Fine.” She says stepping off to the side. She begging to get the voicemail before the familiar voice always giving her butterflies answers.

“Blake? What the hell?!” Sam exclaims nearly tossing his phone across the room. She could hear it in his voice how close he was, “What the fuck is going on?! I sent you messages and you haven’t answered.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I ran into some trouble, and we’re planning a funeral for-“

“Blake.” Steve warns her, “He’s going to be in danger. You need to let him know.”

“I know!” Blake snaps at him.

“Who’s with you? Blake stop lying to me!” Sam nearly screams into the phone, “I’m sick and tired of us tiptoeing around each other. It had to end, I don't know how much more I can take of this.” “I know Sam. I just…I wanted a normal life. I didn’t want you to be involved in all the shit I’m dealing with.” Blake softens her voice as tears begin to spill over, “You don’t deserve this.”

“I don’t deserve what you’re putting me through but Blake? We’ve talked about the future, if we have a chance you have to let me support you.”

“I know.” She whispers back feeling the urging eyes of Nat.

“When are you coming home?” Sam questions lightly.

“I honestly don’t know.” She murmurs.

“Well I guess it’s good I landed a few minutes ago.”

That sends Blake’s eyes wide in panic because Sam never impulsively leaves without informing her. Actually it’s rare he makes a trip because of the cost and the amount of work he has to do. Yet at the same time she feels comforted and happy.

“Steve, Nat. Sam landed a couple hours ago.” Blake says earning some eyebrows raised, “I guess we have another person with us.”

“This is good. Three people that can protect him.” Nat sighs, “I just wish he had some training. Let’s go pick the kid up.”

“Sam, text me the location and we’ll meet you.”Looks like it’s time Sam finds out her entire life.

Nat, Steve and Blake are hiding close to where Sam had requested to meet. Once the overly tall man could be seen, Nat began to walk over carefully watching for Agents. Sam was surprised at the sight of another woman in front of him.

“Sam Winchester?” The gorgeous red head asked.

“Yeah?” He said hesitantly wondering if his past life was in front of him.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff. Blake is waiting for you, it was better I get you instead of her.” Nat said smiling to him, “Follow me.”

Steve grasped the raven haired agents shoulder as she nerves kept her moving her feet around. His eyes found the man he had met in Blake’s apartment when they came to collect her for the Lemurian Star.

“Sam. It’s nice to see you again.” Steve said grasping the other man’s hand, “I’m Steve Rogers. America knows me as Captain America. You’ve met Natasha, she’s a fellow agent of SHIELD and Black Widow.”

“I’m sorry but how does this fit in Blake’s friend’s death?” Sam questioned.

“We’ll answer your questions as soon as we can but we have to move. We can’t be sure we weren’t followed.” Steve replied urging the group to walk off, “We need to figure out what’s on it.”

“We know the perfect place.” Nat shared a smirk with Blake. The confusion on Sam’s voice caught Blake’s attention.

“Okay the plan is that you guys will stay in the truck. As soon as you see up jump into the back and we’ll head out. Fifteen minutes.” Steve whispered cautiously jumping to the newer truck. Sam was still cautious as Steve drove off once Nat had explained where to go.

The backseat was silent letting the tension between Sam and Blake to sizzle. A fight would break out if she didn’t carefully word what she was going to say. Her eyes were trained outside the window to find if they had any tails. It was clear all the way to the mall.

“Remember the plan.” Steve said looking at the backseat passengers, “Blake take the drivers seat. Sam either go up front or stay in the back.”

“Are they holding you hostage?” Sam questioned turning the passenger seat.

“No.” “Than what the fuck is going on?!”

“My name is Blake Ainsley and I’m SHIELD agent and a member of the Avengers.” Blake said watching the outside world, “I was raised in the way from a young age in a program desired to mimic the Red Room program. I’ve been an assassin and a mercenary for a short period of time. When I was sixteen SHIELD found me and gave me a decision. Either jail time or I work for them.”

“You chose to work for them.” Sam whispered absorbing the information, “You lied about everything?”

“No. Everything about our life together was and is real. Sam, I know a large part of your life I don’t know about. I understand how you’re feeling.” Blake sighed looking over at him, “The work life I have isn’t something I want you to have either but I’m selfish.”

“The bruises.”

“Every mission or training session.”

“Okay.” Sam sighs pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt the need to explain the entirely of what he had been hiding from her but he wasn’t ready to.

“You don’t have to tell me until you want to. We’re in a difficult position right now. I’m so sorry I pulled you away from school.”

“Blake. It’s summer vacation.” Sam chuckled, “I’ve been reading the textbook for fun in the last couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“What’s going on?”

Blake delves into the story on what the current predicament she had found herself in since the mission pulled her off her break. Sam listened with ease knowing that dealing with this was better than dealing with his father again and the mindless soldier Dean turned into. He was beyond pissed but at least he knew what was going on now. “Holy shit.” Sam exclaimed not knowing what else to say, “I just can’t believe it. You’re childhood is worse than mine.”

“I don’t know. I remember bits and parts of the life I had with my parents.” Blake sighed looking down at her fingers, “Most of the life I had isn’t all that bad now. I have you and two great friends. We’re just in a bad spot rights now.”

“What else?” Sam asked curious.   “Well normally in the Viper program I was raised in, and it being similar to the Red Room program. The graduation involved sterilizing the female so that family couldn’t be more important than a mission.”

“You can’t have kids?” Sam questioned slightly crushed at the news.

“Actually I was being rolled into the room when SHIELD infiltrated the building. I escaped and went about being what I was created to. Assassination came easy to me and soon I branched out into being a mercenary. Couple years since my escape I was captured by SHIELD and given the ultimatum.”

She saw Steve and Nat rushing towards the truck and with a quick movement Blake was now sitting in the back seat after starting the truck. Sam fumbled into the back seat as Nat jumped in a pushed him into the back seat. He barely had time to put his seat belt before they were speeding out of the parking lot.

“What’s going on?” “My fiancée would like to check out our honeymoon destination.” Steve glared looking over the red head that had kissed him.

“Oh…” Sam trailed off leaving the anger rolling off the driver.

“It seemed plausible at the time.”

“Who goes to New Jersey for their honeymoon?!” Steve exclaimed, “You know what we don’t have time for this. Blake I want you to take a nap, you look exhausted. Sam can you help be our eyes?”

“Uh. Sure.” Sam mumbled feeling like he was back where he started before college. When life was shit since his mom’s death that had led to a miserable life hunting things that go bump in the night.

She was restless, she was never good sleeping in the car on trips. Not that they were able to without a good car. He just didn’t understand how they didn’t have enough money to have a reliable car seeing as what she does for a living.

“You still uncomfortable?” Natasha turned her head towards Steve. Her feet were on the dash stretched out as if that angle didn’t kill her spine in Sam’s opinion.

“It’s not exactly the word I would use.” Steve replied glancing over before his eyes returned to the road again. Sam looked up again as Blake shifted in his arms.

“So where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?” Nat questioned smirking over at him.

“Nazi Germany.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise at the answer. He must be joking because there was no way in hell that could be right.

“Mhm.”

  “And we’re borrowing. Take your feet of the dash.” Steve retorts sending her one of his righteous looks. With the look she follows his request.

“Alright, I have a question for you, of which you don’t have to answer. I feel like if you don’t answer it though, you’re kind of answering it, you know?” Nat smiled over at him.

Sam chuckled watching the interaction between the two, Nat was the flirty type wheres Steve was more uptight. It was a strange dynamic that reminded him on how different he and his brother were. Dean was similar to Nat while he was loosely similar to Steve.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

“Wait, what?!” Sam exclaimed rousing Blake from her sleep, “Did you just say1945? As in like world war two 1945?”

“How you do not know that?” Nat questioned the man in the backseat who was glancing nervously at the now awake Blake.

“Jesus. You’re how old?”

“I was born in 1918 to Sarah and Joseph Rogers in Brooklyn, New York City.” Steve sighed surprised at having to inform Sam.

“I don’t believe it. It’s impossible biologically and scientifically.” Sam snapped leaning back into the seat and staring out the window, “I think I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when you decide to quit lying.”

“Fine.” Nat shrugged. “That bad, huh?” Steve returned to Nat’s question.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, it kind of sounds like that’s what you’re saying.” Steve replied.

“Wait? What happened?” Blake questioned them leaning forward in anticipation.

“I kissed him. Rumlow was on the other escalator.” Nat answered smirking into the backseat where Sam was sleeping on the window and Blake was excited.

“Oh. Public display of affection. Makes everyone uncomfortable.” Blake smiled knowing exactly why it had to happen. Steve groaned at the the females in the truck.

“Nobody special, though?” Nat asked causing both Steve and Blake to chuckle.

“Believe it or not, it’s kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience.” Steve pointedly without revealing the whole age problem. Nat looked back to peer at Sam before looking to Blake.

“Blake found someone that doesn’t have a shared life experience.”

“Don’t bring me into this!” Blake announced, “In case you haven’t noticed things aren’t so smooth. The whole lying thing really does something to a relationship. Steve I hate to say it but you can make something up, leave a little bit out such as your date of birth.”

“What like Nat?”

“I don’t know. Blake is right though, the truth is a matter of circumstances, it’s not all things to all people all the time. And neither am I.” The redhead explained as Steve turned down a side road.

“That’s a tough way to live.” Steve sighed concerned for his friend.

“It’s a good way not to die though.” Blake intervened again, “Think about it like the Witness Protection program just less strict.”

“You know it’s kind of hard to trust someone when you don’t know who that someone really is.” Steve said looking over at Nat. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the only person he could really trust.

“Yeah. Who do you guys want me to be?” “How about our friend.” Steve said.

“I could use another friend.” Blake smiled.

“Well, there’s a chance you two might be in the wrong business. No I didn’t I just wondered how much practice you had.” Nat switched the conversation back again.

“I don’t need practice.”

“Steve everybody needs practice.” Blake laughed, “You get more talented over the years because of experience.”

“Alright, it was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m ninety-five, I’m not dead.” Steve lightly snapped, “Can we drop it.”

“Sure. How about we talk about how skittish you are about coming here.” Blake asked lightly.

“I’d rather not talk about it. The past is the past. I’m trying to live in the present.”

“Like you can.” Blake chuckled, “You have a lot of old fashioned personal items and you’re really an old fashioned gentlemen.”

“It’s not a bad thing. Have you seen the way women are treated these days? How complicated technology is?”

“What did you say before? Something about it being better with the whole new way to cook without boiling everything? That list you have?”

“Shut up.” Steve chuckled putting the truck in park, “This is it?”

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