#less old woman yelling at clouds and more old woman reflecting in her mirror

[strangefable]

the words you speak about another person will always, always, speak louder about you than them

[buckysforeverprincess]

Same Story, Different Pen

James Barnes/Chase Collins x Reader

Words: 1953

Warnings: Sad James/Chase

A/N: Hey all! I’m back with the second installment of the James Barnes/Chase Collins crossover. The title says it all. I felt we needed to hear from James/Chase. I got more planned, just have to find the time to get it written Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! ❤️❤️❤️

GIF by @erikisright​

Five years had passed since he last spoke to her and time had not been nice to him. Gone were the pretty boy looks he’d once used to charm the literal pants off her and in its place, he looked more like he was approaching middle age. The change was so drastic, she hadn’t recognized him when he approached her today and it was a punch to his gut. The love of his life no longer knew who he was.

 Chase had been keeping an eye on his girlfriend and son for the past year. Well, it was more or less stalking, watching their every move and making sure they were okay and wanted for nothing. He’d always known where they were, using his magic to locate them, and was surprised to find them closer to his location than expected. Only over the course of the last couple of months did he decided it was time to show himself to her. To let his presence be known.

 He’d followed them, like usual. Saw them leave the apartment building and walk to the park, the two of them holding hands and unsuspecting of his presence. His cold heart ached for them, his love and his son. They were nothing but smiles as they made their way down the crowded street and to the park and he desperately wanted to be a part of it.

 The warmth they shared made him long for a time when they could be together as a family, exchanging loving looks and walking hand in hand. Chase yearned for it, to spend time with them while he still could but was unsure of just how well his resurrection would be perceived and he was living in borrowed time. With each passing day his looks changed, and he grew older. It was only a matter of time before he’d leave this life for good, leaving the people he truly loved behind.

 When the pair arrived at the park, he watched his son like a hawk as he let go of his mother's hand and ran over to the slide to play with the other children. Chase was sure the boy didn’t know any of the kids hanging around but that didn’t stop him from running right up and making friends, the others accepting the brown-haired child like they’d always known him. Chase couldn’t help but smile and feel a pang in his heart. His son was just as outgoing as he was, and it warmed him to think he’d got more than just his looks from his father.

 Reasoning his son was fine, his eyes gravitated to the bench his love sat on, watching their child playing with the other kids. Chase could feel his pulse accelerate as he stared, caught up in her beauty and grace. She’d glanced over in his direction but turned away, quickly focusing back on her child so she wouldn’t miss a thing, smiling and waving when they made eye contact with each other. Chase knew, no matter what life threw her way their child was her priority and she’d always be an amazing mother.

 As he continued to watch, Chase figured it was now or never and he stood from the bench he had occupied and began to walk over to the love of his life. The sky began to darken, and he stopped, knowing it was his magic causing the shift in the atmosphere. Damn him! His powers had grown so much that even a negative thought could make something change or shift, and in this moment, he needed the sun shining if this was going to work. On the flip side, the dark clouds could signify an omen… his rejection. Chase didn’t know if he could suffer another heartbreak and the loss of losing them both again.

 Chase only moved when he concluded she was lost in thought, her head looking up towards the sky. His eyes were focused on her while he closed the distance and sat down beside her without making a sound.

 “It’s not going to rain.” His voice is low and ragged from the lack of use and he knows he startled her. Chase kept his head forward, not wanting to make eye contact or show his face to her, trying to get a read on the situation.

 “Are you a meteorologist? Got the inside scoop on what’s in store with the weather?”

 It was a joke, or her attempt at humor. She was tense and rightfully so. It wasn’t every day a man sits next to you and makes small talk. In this day and age, people kept to themselves and allowed for as little contact as possible. His love had every right to be skeptical of the man taking up space on the bench next to her. In her mind, there was no telling what his intentions were.

 “You're a good mom… I’m sorry you had to go through so much on your own.” The words were out before he could stop them, and he knew at that moment he had fucked up.

 “Do I know you?”

 Chuckling, he faces her. His eyes lock onto hers and he can feel the intensity of her stare but doesn’t answer her question. It wasn’t that he wanted to avoid it and lie, he just wasn’t ready. This wasn’t the time and the place for full disclosure, and he couldn’t risk being honest and watching her take their son and run away. Chase would have to play this smart and let the wheels in her head spin and make the connection to who he was on her own.

 “Forgive me,” he holds out his hand in offering, “I’m James. James Barnes.” The alias he’d been using rolls off his tongue with ease.

 She stares at him, like she’s searching for something within him. Chase knows he looks nothing like the eighteen-year-old boy he’d once been with the baby face. He was young and carefree once and she loved his soft features and playful smile, but that wasn’t the person he was anymore and in front of her was a middle-aged man with some very adult wrinkles and a graying beard. There was no way in the world she’d recognize him like this and not a chance in hell she’d believe him if she told her who he really was.

 “I don’t bite.” Chases’ eyes move between his hand and her face, a silent plea for her to take. She just stares at it and he can sense the gears shifting in her head. The love of his life doesn’t trust him, smart woman. He can tell she’s at war with herself and because she can’t figure it out, she does the one thing he hoped she wouldn’t do. Chase shakes his head when she grabs her purse and quickly stands, hurrying to put some distance between the two of them. Fuck! This is not how he’d played things out in his head and he was hoping for a better response than running away from him.

 “Y/N!” Chase yells making her stop and looks back at him. He couldn’t tell if it was fear or curiosity staring back, but he’d called out her name without thinking of the consequences of what that might do. His gut was telling him explaining this away wouldn’t be easy and she wouldn’t give up without answers.

 “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

 That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question now, wasn’t it? If he told her who he really was, game over. She’d run. Chase knew she’d disappear without ever looking back. And who’s to say she wouldn’t end up back in Ipswich and telling those four fuckwads he was still alive? Right now, he was off their radar and he’d like to keep it that way. There’s no way he could tell her the man she once loved and shared a child with was standing in front of her wanting to make things right. No, today’s not the day for that.

 James shrugs and gets up from the bench and slowly makes his way to where she stands. “I don’t understand. Why Brooklyn? You could’ve gone anywhere, any place in the world. Why here?” He was doing his best to avoid answering her. He could play the distraction and omission game all day long if it meant not sharing his deepest secret.

 “You… you didn’t answer my question. Who are you and how do you know my name?”

 Of course, she wouldn’t give up. Chase knew she was stubborn and headstrong. It’s one of the many reasons he fell for her in the first place. She was a firecracker and once that fuse was lit, she wouldn’t stop until she either got what she wanted, or she went bang. He was trying not to make the former or the latter happen. Not today, devil.

 James takes a chance at distraction and leans in to her ear. So close he knows she can feel his breath on her skin. “I told you… my name is James Barnes… and you have something that belongs to me,” he says low and soft, almost like a whisper.

 “I-I… I have nothing… please, let me go.”

 Chase can’t help but laugh. He’s not holding her and definitely isn’t prohibiting her from walking away if she really wants to. If she had her wits about her, she’d know she’s the one holding all the power. Chase is at her mercy and is the one who should be begging her for absolution.

 “Is that what you want… to go? I let you go once… I don’t intend to make that mistake again.” Chase knows he’s practically giving himself away, but he needs her to make the connection on her own. He can’t divulge who he is without her freaking out. The warlock knows it’d be better for all of them if she’d look past the face fuzz and the gray hair and figure out just who was standing in front of her.

 “Mom!” The sound of his son’s voice pierces his ears, gaining his attention. God, seeing his son up close is like looking in a mirror, his own reflection staring back at him. Chase wants nothing more than to scoop him up and hold him close, never letting him go.

 Chase stands watching the interaction between mother and son, desperately wanting to be involved, but he can’t. Today was about appearing before the love of his life, trying to ease her into knowing. It was up to her to connect the dots and see the big picture. It was apparent he’d have to give her a little more push than he’d originally intended.

 “Here young man…,” he takes an envelope from his pocket and hands it to his son, a little insurance plan he’d already planned out, written by him prior to leaving his own house. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N.” As soon as his son takes it, he starts to back away, but not before leaving a parting gift for one of them to find.

 Chase was able to disappear without being seen, using his magic when he was far enough away to leave without a trace. He didn’t stick around to see the end result and how she reacted to the letter, he couldn’t. The only part left of his heart was broken and he wasn’t sure how or if it could ever be repaired. It’d been five years and he regrets ever letting his greed and lust for power control him. How in the hell would he ever win the love of his family… and could he do it before it was too late?

Tags:

@sexyvixen7

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[illusion-of-zenith]

Aira'Nan

July 6th, 2060, Earth. 

Two kids walked around the beach on northern California, one human, olive skin and black short hair and brown eyes, the other, a phenari, blue skin with amber glowing speckles on his face, small and scrawny with teal messy hair shaved from one side and kept in braids on the other.

"So, how's California?" Noah asked as they walked near the water, "Got nice beaches, huh?" A smile crept on their lips as their eyes went from looking at the sand to looking at Ainan.

"Nice, I guess, too crowded for my taste…" Ainan responded, he just arrived on Earth a month ago, or so he thinks, time seems like a blur ever since he escaped, he still hasn't gotten used to how time works there and it'll take a while until he finds another ship to hide in and go somewhere else.

It was dark, warm, perhaps too much for his own liking, he never liked warm weather.

"Just nice?" Noah frowned their brow, "I expected something else…" 

Those words went unheard to Ainan until Noah managed to catch his attention, which meant they were frantically waving their hand in front of his face.

"Uh, w- what… did you want me to say then?"

Noah looked away and pouched their lips as if to find an answer, "I don't know," they said, "You're always more… don't know, cheerful than this, you know?"

Truth be told, Noah wasn't so far from the truth, Ainan's first weeks on Earth were anxiety inducing to say the least, being alone on a strange planet were you barely speak one among hundreds of languages and the constant fear of… well, that's another story Ainan didn't want to think about.

"You've been distant lately," their voice showed clear concern, "Hmm, I guess so…" Ainan responded, "Is the something wrong? Aira?" Aira… They called him Aira, that's the name those people gave him, not the one his mother did, part of him still responded to that name.

"Is it the weather? We can go and takr a swim if you want to." Ainan stopped dead on his tracks, "We're alone and the water is nice! Nobody will see us!" Noah's words echoed in the background as Ainan stared at the floor, memories clouding his mind as every second passed by.

Aira! Aira! Aira'Nan mexi'o!

All the village's kids used to sing that.

Seaweed! Seaweed! Sweeweed boy be careful!

It wasn't about him, he knew it, he knew it wasn't about him yet being down there in the water with little to no light, freezing, half naked as all sorts of cold and slimy creatures crashed onto his body made it seem like it was. 

Alone, hiding behind the moss covered rocks as the hot sand burned his feet, carrying glowing red seaweed on a bag, hoping he wasn't late.

Aira! Aira! Aira'Nan Ih haye'o, the kids chanted as they saw him, chasing him around the docks and trying to grab the contents of his bag, pulling him by his feet and hair to make him trip. Seaweed, seaweed, seaweed boy, we saw you!

"Aira, Aira?" Noah's voice was louder, growing with concern, "I's Ainan! Ainan!" He scream, covering his head with his arms and abruptly sitting on the floor.

"Uh, hey, what was that?" Noah sat next to him, "My name is not Aira, It's Ainan, I told you the wrong one!" 

"That's ok! People here also change names!" 

"No! I'm not Aira, I'm not Seaweed! I'm Ainan!"

Noah didn't know what to say, "I hate it here, I hate the sand, I hate the sea, I hate seaweed!" Ainan hid his face and tried to do the same for his sobbing, "A-Ainan, I don't get it. What's going on?"

Noah looked around, spotting a rock among the sand "We can sit on the rock, it'll keep us dry and away from the sand, what do you say?" They offered a smile, Ainan looked at them and nodded.

"Well then!" Soon they were climbing said rock, the wind blowing on their faces as they sat on the surface, "Is ok if you don't want to tell me…" Noah said, Ainan kept taking deep breaths ever since they got to the top of the rock.

There was silence for a moment.

"I used to collect seaweed." He said, pausing for a while as Noah looked back at him, "Red glowing seaweed, it sold well on my planet, mom and I would collect what got washed upon the shore, but once she got sick, I went to collect it alone."

He still remembers the smell of salt, the sensation of seaweed on his hands, "The other kids mocked me, they would chase me and steal from me to sell the seaweed." Ainan collapsed into the floor and looked at the night sky. "There was this old song they would sing all the time before chasing me. I would come back to home with less merch."

"Didn't you say it sold well? Even a little should be expensive!" Noah said, "No, we didn't have the license, we gave it to another guy who did and only got part of the payment…"

Even to this day, Ainan can still hear his voice.

"Only this?! Useless woman. Useless child! I can replace you! This is your last chance!"

"He would yell at us, throw things, he would punch my mom!" Tears escaped his eyes, "He punched her! He made her bleed almost every day! I-I couldn't just stay there!" Ainan started to hyperventilate, fingers pressing his scalp as he tried to keep it together, "I- I… He killed her… He killed her! He killed my mom!"

He let out a loud scream as Noah rushed to hug him, rocking back and forward as he cried, the pressure on his chest growing second by second, breathing got harder until he could only do it through his mouth, tears blurring his vision.

They spent the next hour like that.

"I didn't told you why I brought you here…" Ainan looked at Noah, "Look." They pointed their finger at the sea, glowing blue with the bioluminicense algae that were carried by the waves.

"You said you missed how the sea glowed back in your planet…" Ainan's eyes were as wide as saucers as he looked at the glowing waves of algae, "W-Wow…" the only word he could muster.

"Earth is not so boring kow, right?" Noah said in an uplifting tone, "Wait until I'm 18, just five more years and We will travel all by ourselves to more places like this! Ever heard of Madagascar? Bolivia? The Caribbean?Bolivia has a place where salt acts like a mirror and it's like walking on the sky, the caribbean seas, The Stone Forest on Madagascar! Can't wait!"

"Can't we do that now?" Ainan asked, "I don't think my parents would let us…" 

"Hey, didn't notice! Your english has improved a lot!" 

"I had a good teacher." Noah smiled at Ainan's words.

They both sat on that rock until it was too late and Noah's parents came to pick them up and gave them a scolding for being out so late.

July 6th, 2213, Ainan walked on his own, salt on his boots and sun blinding him as the sky reflected on the ground, walking away from the crowd, carrying a photo on his hand.

He held it in front of him, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Noah, look! we made it!"

[heartslogos]

an oath to keep

Gideon is sitting on a dull ashy rock, boots covered in dull ashy dirt, staring out at a dull ashen sky as dull ash clouds puff around her. She is waiting for a drop ship to pick her up and take her away.

She is certain of two things.

One, when Harrowhark Nonagesimus gets her she’s going to be so mad at Gideon that she’s going to skip straight past frosty rage and into frothing at the corners of the mouth and she might try to pop each individual vertebrae of Gideon’s spine out through Gideon’s mouth like a candy dispenser.

Two, Gideon is deader than disco. Which provides a minor sliver of hope because disco has a weird tendency to dip its toe back into living every so often before being quickly shunted off into its shallow grave.

Gideon, in fact, does feels some minor, weird, buzzing feeling in the back of her skull that signals to her that she’s not all the way gone yet. Just ninety nine point nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine percent there.

She raises a hand and runs it through her hair, as she sighs, slumping down on the rock to stare up at the bleak sky.

Trust being dead to land her back at the Ninth. The afterlife couldn’t have something a little bit more interesting? Gideon’s no saint and didn’t have many expectations for what the other side would hold for her, but surely it wouldn’t be ye old homestead of eternal bleakness.

Figures that the bad place for the bad people is just the Ninth. It explains so much, honestly.

So far Gideon has catalogued three bits of good news while sitting on her old rock friend.

One. She’s got her two hander. Its familiar weight means that this place can’t be completely awful. Real hell would’ve been stuck in the afterlife with the little metal wand of a rapier and the kind of alright knuckles.

Two. Gideon also still has her glasses. Unscratched, unbroken, and in perfectly mirrored condition that she can see her reflection in them.

Three. Gideon’s existence in the afterlife is not a complete mangled wreck like it was when Gideon threw herself into it to start with. Her arms and legs work, her torso isn’t a sieve with a bonus chance at tetanus, and — not as great, but neither here nor there — her face paint looks fresh, sharp, and unblemished. Which also leads to the bad news that Gideon poked at her face a bit and could still feel the angry little zits on her forehead and the sides of her face.

Being dead, apparently, does not rescue a person from acne. Acne is a powerful curse that extends beyond life. There can be no rescuing from acne.

“Ninth.”

Gideon looks up and is somehow disappointed to see Camilla.

“Yo,” Gideon stands up, waving awkwardly. “Do I apologize?”

Camilla blinks at her, confused, “What for?”

“You’re here.”

Camilla looks around, and shrugs. “Not for long.”

They both look up at the sound of ship engines.

Camilla’s hands rest on her hips as they watch the dull clouds part, and the lights of a ship start to come closer.

“Thank you for what you did back there,” Camilla says as they watch the ship descend. “You do your house proud.”

Gideon shrugs, uncomfortable at the thought of making the Ninth House feel anything positive. The Ninth could suck it. It wasn’t really —

“The Ninth has less syllables than Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” Gideon says.

Camilla’s lip twitches upward at the corner. Gideon has a feeling Camilla already knew that.

“It was an honor to fight with you,” Camilla says as the ship completes its descent, landing off in the distance and lowering its ramp. She turns to Gideon and holds her hand out. “I’m going to join my adept.”

Gideon grasps it. “Hey, what was it that you were supposed to do?”

Camilla’s smile is grim and thin. “Finish it.”

Gideon’s hand tightens on Camilla’s. “And — ?”

She doesn’t now how to finish that question.

Camilla nods once. “It is done.”

They both let go of each other and Camilla turns to walk away. Gideon watches her for a bit before returning to her rock.

“Gideon!”

She looks up and sees Camilla, almost at the ship.

“You could come with us,” Camilla yells out towards her, “You’ve done more than enough. Our part is over.”

Gideon stares at Camilla, and then beyond her at the ship. She imagines she can see Palamedes in the shadow of the ship’s entryway. Boy that would be an awkward ride to wherever dead people go next. No thanks.

“Pass. I’ll wait for mine,” Gideon yells back.

Camilla is very still in the distance before she raises an arm and waves, then turns and completes the walk onto the ship.

Gideon watches the ship as it slowly returns to the sky and away from here. Her throat tightens and she tells herself she isn’t crying. She’s got no paint or brushes. If she messes up her face it’s going to be stuck that way for eternity. No thanks.

Gideon doesn’t know how long she’s been here. It could be minutes. It could be hours. It could be days or years or centuries.

She doesn’t feel tired or thirsty or anything. She’s got enough to do. Infinite laps to run, push ups, crunches, squats, sword drills. She even messes around with pushing rocks around the bleak landscape.

“You.”

Gideon groans, sheathing her sword as she drops her stance. She turns and she sees the hulking mass of Crux lumbering towards her, face grim and foreboding as ever.

“Come on, Crux,” Gideon gestures around them, “We’re dead. Can you drop being a giant wanker for like…a minute? I’ll even pretend I don’t know about the part where you rigged my ship so I would die as soon as I got off planet.”

Crux scowls, coming to a stop a few feet away from her, “Death is the least of what those who abandon their house deserve.” The formal marshal looks her over. “Ultimately you made up for your many flaws, though I can see that your disrespect and lack of manners remains unfixable.”

“Thanks?” Gideon hedges that this is supposed to be the most backhanded of complements, so backhanded that it goes right around to being a complete insult. “You know, Crux, I didn’t think you’d ever kick the bucket. Do I get to ask what did you in? Was it spite? Did you enjoy yourself so thoroughly on the news of my death that you kicked it to see if it was real? Did your dusty old bones just give in and send you collapsing to the floor in a puddle of skin?”

If Crux’s scowl gets any deeper it would threaten to become engraved onto his very bones themselves. Crux’s scowl is so deeply etched into his face that Gideon swears that you could pack the grooves like pockets.

“You wear the paint and patterns of the Ninth like an unattended toddler who put them on in the dark with their fingers,” Crux says. Overhead Gideon hears the sound of a ship coming.

“Looks like your ride’s here,” Gideon says, “Bet you hope that I’m not the one who rigged it this time, eh? Wouldn’t that be a nice turn of the dramatic? You want to offer me some skin mags? For old time’s sake?”

Gideon scrambles to hide behind her rock as Crux advances.

“You can’t kill me, Crux. I’m not scared of you, you old bag of dust,” Gideon says as Crux strides past her and her rock towards the ship, one hand on her sword just in case. The entire way the sound of his breathing and the rattling of his bones made Gideon think of a goody bag for necromancers with knuckles in it being shaken about. Gideon gives Crux’ back the finger.

“Gideon Nav,” Crux says as he walks towards the ship, “You have been a blot on the records of the Ninth since you fell onto our heads.”

Gideon is about to fire off a retort regarding the lack of heads in the Ninth in general, when Crux continues.

“But you saved the Reverend Daughter, and thus the Ninth. You may have been a blot on our records, but you will remain recorded, nonetheless. You were a cavalier worthy of service.”

Gideon watches Crux shamble all the way to the ship and get onto it, saying nothing in return.

Aiglamene comes around eventually, and Gideon is surprised to find herself sad to see her old mentor.

Her face is, dare Gideon think it? Fond.

“What’s up?” Gideon says, mustering up a small salute for the old woman. “You outlasted Crux! Good on you.”

“You are a wretch and a fool, and a legend of the Ninth House,” Aiglamene says. “It is good to see that despite the legends that came after your death and the amount of heroics involved in those legends, you are still Gideon Nav. When we heard word of what you did, I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. You did — “

“If you say I did the Ninth proud I’m going to throw myself down right here and have the biggest fit you’ve ever seen in your life, and since you’ve been around since the beginning of time it’s going to be one impressive fit.”

Aiglamene gives her a flat look that makes Gideon’s guts gurgle in protest.

“You did me proud, you thrasonical miscreant.”

“You got a dictionary for that one?”

Aiglamene sighs. “I can’t believe that I actually missed you.”

Gideon puts a hand over her heart, “Captain. You do care.”

“I regret the waste of emotion every second I spend looking at you. What are you wearing on your face?”

“Glasses and face paint. Don’t I look like a real proper Niner?”

“You look like a proper malignancy.”

It feels like it’s too soon when the ship comes for Aiglamene. Gideon wants to keep her here, ask her a billion questions about what exactly happened after Gideon died. About Harrow. About the Canaan House. About everyone and everything. About what it felt like to see Crux dead and do a jig over his body.

Aiglamene might even stay.

Gideon’s not so selfish as to ask that, though. So Gideon just gestures to the ship.

“No one’s rigged that one to blow, swear it,” Gideon jokes.

Aiglamene just looks at her, like she’s studying Gideon’s face. Gideon half expects the woman to command her to drop and give her some drills, make sure she’s fighting fit. Gideon expects that she’d do it on reflex.

“If you wait here, you will have a long time to go,” Aiglamene says. “You’ve done your service, Gideon. You did more than what anyone could have asked you, more than what duty asked. You’re free, Gideon. No one owns you, no one can ask anything of you anymore. You can walk away.”

That would be nice if it were true. But it isn’t.

“I made an oath, Captain,” Gideon says. “And I intend to keep it.”

Aiglamene starts to smile.

“You know, so when her lady of eternal gloom and dusk shows up I can tell her that this is what keeping a promise looks like.”

The smile doesn’t go away.

Aiglamene holds her hand out, Gideon grasps it, expecting a firm shake and a serious and slightly formal nod goodbye, but the old woman pulls Gideon in with surprising strength. Gideon is surprised to find that she’s actually taller than Aiglamene now. Which is weird, because one would think you would stop growing when dead.

“Goodbye, Gideon Nav,” Aiglamene whispers into Gideon’s ear. “And good luck.”

It takes a huge amount of effort to uncurl her fingers from Aiglamene’s robes as they part.

Gideon watches Aiglamene go. And when Aiglamene raises her hand to wave goodbye as the ship’s door closes, Gideon salutes. And she holds that position until the clouds have closed over the ship and the gray world is silent again.

There are others. Eventually Lachrimorta and Aisamorta kick it. Gideon takes great pains to make sure that she’s well hidden when she hears those two biddies coming. She’s there for a handful of nuns she recognizes, some other serfs and cultists, various laypeople. Most of them she doesn’t know by name. There are some she doesn’t recognize at all. She does her best to remain hidden for the most part. Gideon would rather not have to deal with them.

Time must pass, though Gideon doesn’t really feel it. It’s like all of time is a giant slush that Gideon stands in the middle of, unmoved and unmoving.

The temptation to get on one of those ships and get away from here is there, but Gideon has something stronger than that. An oath.

Gideon’s word is important. She can’t leave here until it’s completed.

So she waits. She practices drills with her sword, even though she doesn’t really need to anymore. It does keep her fit for running away and hiding from faces she doesn’t want to deal with, which is nice. She does laps. She does sit ups. Crunches, squats, one handed push ups. Clap push ups. Hand stands. Whatever.

She even does the motions for the drills with a rapier and knuckle using a stick she’d found.

Gideon waits.

It feels like not long enough when she feels the dreaded step of Harrowhark Nonagesimus on the horizon.

Gideon turns, hand resting on the pommel of her two hander, the other adjusting her glasses as the shadowy figure of velvet and lace and bone drowse closer.

She hears a ship in the distance.

“One flesh, one end,” Gideon whispers to herself as Harrow comes into close enough view that she can see the press of her thin lips, the coiled tension in her shoulders, and the spite flickering in her eyes. “Sup.”

“You,” Harrow snarls. Gideon holds her ground as Harrow picks up the pace, great clouds of gray dirt and ash puffing away behind her as her long robes hiss along the ground. “You impertinent, selfish, foolish, insufferable, malicious, contrary shit.”

“I feel like that this is just the prologue for an epic speech,” Gideon says, pointing towards the ship coming towards them, “You want to discuss this on that instead?”

“I’m not going to discuss anything with you Griddle,” Harrow snaps, but continues walking towards the ship, “I am not having a discussion. I am going to tell you exactly why you did a completely stupid and unnecessary thing. I am going to tell you exactly the many ways you were wrong and how idiotic you were. I am going to tell you, in great and exact detail, the many ways in which your choices negatively impacted me over the past centuries, and I am going to explain to you in a way that even your single brain cell — which, I imagine has much atrophied over time due to lack of any meaningful stimulus — can understand how incomprehensibly and stupendously ill advised your abrupt departure was and the repercussions of you disobeying my orders was.”

Gideon falls into step behind Harrow, folding her arms around the back of her head and grinning at the back of Harrow’s.

“Oh, you did miss me.”

“It was a cold universe without you, Griddle,” Harrow snaps. Gideon beams. “And I had to deal with it by myself. I had to hold a sword, Griddle. A blasted sword. Do you know how frustrating it was to do — to do laps? It took me years, Griddle. Years. Just to swing a metal stick. A metal stick. Did it ever strike you that I had better things to do? That such physical labor was meant to be delegated to one such as yourself? I doubt it.”

Gideon stops waking and just watches Harrow go at it, snapping as vicious and mean spirited and terribly frustrating as ever. She missed this. She missed Harrow.

And now she’s going to have forever with this.

Gideon’s smile feels like it’s going to crack her face. She’s a masochist.

“Are you coming or not Gideon?” Harrow turns about, one foot on the ship’s ramp, tapping impatiently. “I’ve been waiting for this end for millenium, Gideon Nav. How long are you going to keep me waiting?”

“You’d think with millennium to yourself you’d have learned patience,” Gideon says, slowly walking towards her. “Besides. Aren’t I worth waiting for?”

[seriouslyhooked]

You Look Good (A CS NYE story)

A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to start by wishing you all a happy New Year! This story is actually one I have been working on for a while, and I had stalled out with writing it. A long long time ago a reader asked for ‘You Look Good’ by Lady Antebellum and I love the song but just couldn’t get inspired, and then today I realized a good way to engage with this song was through also engaging with the holiday. So, this is a CS AU oneshot where Emma and Killian are both on holiday get aways in paradise with their friends. They happen to see each other from afar and… well, you’ll just have to read it to see how it goes. Thank you all for reading and thanks to the very patient reader who suggested this song!

“Now this, right here, is the life.”

The words from his friend Will should have been grating, especially since the rest of the men on this boat were all actually pulling their weight this afternoon on the water while Will was lounging about. But still, Killian couldn’t help but agree.

Being out here on the sea was infinitely better than life in the city, especially in the dead of winter when New York was 25 degrees and covered in ice. There the air was frigid and sharp, and here it was clean, crisp, and glorious. The sunlight that had been gone from the north for so long was out in full force here, and the sand and the waves underneath a clear blue sky were the perfect remedy to anyone’s winter woes.

Even with the frozen temps, at home everything was driven by competition and hectic chaos. Business in New York was cutthroat, something he’d learned as the CEO of his own business. There were no breaks. If you wanted to be a success you worked like a dog and you never slowed down, but out here there was a gentler pace of living that held no less purpose even in its quiet calm. It was easy to get caught up in how much more vibrant the world seemed out in these kinds of open coastal spaces, and how much more possibility floated about in the air out here, but soon enough they’d all head back to reality. That was just the way things were. No matter how much he and his friends may enjoy their annual holiday trip to the tropics, they always returned home, waiting and wishing for the next year to end and call them back again.

This trip was a tradition for the four of them, starting way back when Will, David, Graham and Killian had met in college. David had a friend of a friend of a friend who had a place on a sunny island where summer lasted all year long and the rest was history. Things had radically changed since those good old days, what with all of them having time consuming careers and various responsibilities, but the peace they all found out here on the ocean had never waned. This was a critical time of respite for the lot of them, what with Graham taking time off from his police work, Will leaving the run of his bar to his staff, and David leaving the hospital to the care of other residents. But Killian couldn’t help feeling that each year they were getting closer to the loss of this tradition, or at least a substantial change in the way it came about.

It was only a matter of time before his friends started settling down, and when that day came it was unlikely that their girlfriends or wives would embrace a weeks-long guy’s trip especially during Christmas and New Years. It would no longer be realistic to put their lives on hold for such a long stretch, and Killian understood that. For his part, he would actually welcome such an addition to his life, a woman who would miss him too much to want to be apart at this time of year, but he had to be realistic. So far experience had shown him that finding such a match and meeting a woman who he could truly see forever with was a long shot. It would take a miraculous woman to truly speak to his heart, and only that kind of love would entice him into marriage and the whole happily ever after thing.

“You’ve got that look again, Killian,” David joked and Killian raised his gaze to his best mate who looked smug and all-knowing.

“I haven’t got a look,” Killian responded, prompting David and Graham to laugh.

“Sure you do,” Graham quipped. “The dreamy, brooding one. That one women eat up because they think you’re grappling with the universe’s big questions.”

“Maybe I am,” Killian quipped and after a moment they all laughed.

“Nah you’re just worrying,” David explained. “You’re thinking that this might be our last run out here, and you’re probably right, at least the way we do things now.”

“He’s right?!” Will asked, his genuine concern manifesting as a shriek. It was like a banshee, and the harsh tone was so shrill Killian winced.

“Well, yeah. Next year’s gonna be different. I don’t know about you all, but I’m finding my girl. I’ve got it all planned.”

“You’ve planned it out?” Graham asked with a smirk. “And how exactly did you do that, Doctor Nolan?”

“That’s for me to know and her to find out.”

David’s adamant refusal to elaborate prompted some more ribbing from the others, but it only reminded Killian about how sure and true his instincts were. He sensed that this tide was shifting, and he believed David was right. Not about the having a plan to find the woman of one’s dreams– that was bull shit. There was no way one could plan to find a love strong enough to build a life around. But when he said this year was going to be different, Killian found he genuinely hoped that would be true and that hope carried him through the rest of their afternoon out on the water.

By the time they pulled back into port, docking their sailboat in the marina they’d come to know well, Killian was no closer to answers about what he wanted and when it might come. He tried to take solace in the beauty that was the sky at this time of day, with sunset silhouettes dancing, painting lazy, wayward clouds that hung over this seaside place. The shades of pink and orange and gold could never be recreated back home, but while he appreciated the sight, it did nothing to truly calm him. He was restless still, but he supposed that was normal for the last day of the year, and the final few hours before a brand new start. People had a tendency to get antsy in these final moments, and even in paradise it seemed that was to be his fate.

“Well lads, it’s time for the age-old question – Captain Jack’s or Odie’s Place for New Year’s this evening?”

No one answered Will’s eager question as they got into the jeep they’d rented for the two weeks, and that was likely because they didn’t care. Either place would suit their purposes. They wanted a decent meal and a few drinks to get them through to the new year. Other than that, there was little consideration to be had.

“All right then, driver’s choice,” Will responded, hopping into the vehicle and hardly waiting for any of them to do the same before he tore off onto the main road and raced towards their vacation villa.

Absentmindedly Killian watched the scenery around them, noticing the way the docks gave way to the bustling town beside it. The island was particularly busy this year, a sign that perhaps their secret haven might not be so secret after all. Years ago it felt like they were the only foreigners here this time of year, but alas it seemed to be a new and wide-spread trend. Some people were here with families, others on trips that mirrored theirs, but none of these people really mattered to Killian. At least until…

The first thing he noticed about her was her golden hair, which reflected the iridescent light of the year’s last sunset in an almost ethereal way. It was pulled back, likely from hours spent at the beach, but soft and wavy tendrils hung loose, shielding parts of a face so stunning it made Killian’s heart skip a beat and then another. In the three seconds that they were passing her, Killian swore he took in every little detail of this woman – nay, this vision – memorizing her like she was the answer to his every prayer. Her lithe form, her perfect face, the way the smile she was wearing met her eyes and the essence around her that was light and happy. She was an angel dressed in a yellow sun dress, an impossibly gorgeous woman the likes of which he’d never seen, and in an instant he knew that he’d regret every moment he lived from this point on if he didn’t get a chance to know her.

“Stop the car!” Killian yelled as he finally got his wits about him. His eyes stayed on her as Will braked a bit but kept driving.

“What the fuck -?”

“Pull the car over, Will. Now!”

David’s intensity matched Killian’s and if he were able to think of anything outside this girl Killian would wonder why his friend was so animated too, but as the car slowed down, Killian hopped out of the side, and raced back down the street. She was only a little while back, but this place was packed with people and there were hotels and storefronts all around. She could be anywhere, and the realization that she was lost to him damn near gutted the sense of hope he’d suddenly found.

“What the hell is up with you two?” Graham asked, appearing beside Killian and Killian shook his head.

“I thought I saw her,” Killian confessed and he continued to look out through the stream of people, but she didn’t reappear.

“Saw who?”

“The one.”

“The one?” Graham scoffed. “Wait are you serious right now? This isn’t just some sort of sun-induced hallucination?”

“I don’t know,” Killian whispered, fear clinging to him that maybe that’s what she was. Surely now that he thought of it no one could be so perfect or call to him so quickly. Maybe Graham was right? But then he saw her again, this time across the square from where he was. He started moving towards her, and as if she could feel his attention she stopped, looking at him and halting him in his tracks. God she was incredible. She was stunning and remarkable and every other good thing and when he saw her he forgot to breathe. All he could do was stare and enjoy the rush of adrenaline that came in realizing she was doing the same. She was caught too, snared in by this connection between them, whatever it may be.

“That’s her!” David said and Killian looked over, suddenly feeling very territorial and jealous. It didn’t matter that this was his best friend. This woman was off limits. She would be his, at least he hoped. God did he hope.

“Back off David.”

“Not the blonde, dumb ass, her friend.”

Cursing from David? Wow he must be just as caught up as Killian, and when Killian looked back over to the woman who captivated him he saw she had a girl beside her. She was brunette and petite, with a blue dress and the same beach-ready look, but she didn’t hold a candle to his girl.

“Aw shit, not now,” David groaned and Killian looked to see what he meant. Fuck! The end of year festival was happening, and now a sea of people were swarming in, dancing away the bad of this year and ringing in the new one. It was, admittedly, a very cool ceremony, but only when one wasn’t trying to meet the girl of their dreams. Instead the dancing and the noise made Killian agitated, but he couldn’t get around it, and by the time it was all over and they were free to move again, both women were gone and Killian was left feeling stunned and defeated.

“They can’t have gone far,” David said, scoping out the area but there was no sign of them. Eventually they changed tactics, with Graham questioning a vendor selling flowers down below. Killian listened as his friend asked questions about the girls but to no avail and so Killian did the same at other markets and shops. It was crazy, but finally one woman selling bracelets by the beach drive said she’d seen them.

“They came to look at my wears. Fancied a few pieces too, but said they forgot their wallets back at their hotel. They promised to come back tomorrow and get them. Said it would be their last day at the beach. Usually I don’t believe tourists when they say these things, but they had such honest eyes. Good things come to people like that.”

“Did they mention which hotel?” David asked, sidestepping the woman’s local superstitions about ‘honest eyes,’ and the woman shook her head.

“Nah, love. They did say they had to get back to the north side of the island though and there’s not many places out there. They likely at the resort.”

“Which ones did she like?” Killian asked, surprising the woman. Slowly a smile of understanding crossed the woman’s face and she gestured to a woven bracelet with a golden hue and a swan charm. It was unique, even in an array of one of a kind bracelets. “I’ll take it.”

“And I’ll take whatever else they looked at.”

It was a small consolation in all of this, and again, it defied rational explanation. This was somewhat crazy on both Killian and David’s parts, but hell if he could stop it. He wanted to have a piece of her with him, even if it was something she’d never gotten a chance to have. It felt a bit better to have this tiny trinket, and it was even more miraculous to know that tomorrow they’d be at the beach and were planning to come back here.

“So that’s that then. We’ll just be sure to get out here early tomorrow.”

Graham said the words, convinced that everything was now all set, but still Killian felt restless. Tomorrow was better than nothing. He’d been afraid he’d never see her again only a few moments ago, but he also hated the idea of waiting. Now that he’d seen her and he knew she was out there, Killian was eager to meet this woman who entranced him. She had him under her spell and she’d never so much as said a word to him.

“Captain Jack’s,” David said to Will, confusing their friend in the process. “You asked which bar and it’s Captain Jack’s.”

“If you say so, mate,” Will said as they all filed back into the car.

“It’s on the north side of the island,” David said to Killian and Killian agreed it was the best place. It wasn’t a surefire plan, what with the resort being an all inclusive, and them not being one hundred percent certain they were even there, but it made Killian feel better. Upping his chances of finding this girl was all he could ask for and they were doing just that by going north.

The next few hours passed with painful slowness, and by the time they got to the bar Killian was a bit of a wreck. It didn’t help matters that all of this was uncertain. She might not come, she might not like him, hell she might already have someone. That last though in particular scared him half to death, but he had to believe that his instinctive reaction meant something. He’d never felt this way, losing himself at first sight like this. It would be the cruelest trick of fate if she was taken, and if she could never feel the same… God he hated to even think how much that would hurt.

“I feel like my hearts going to give out any second,” David said standing next to him and casing the place with the same intensity. “I know it’s crazy but… she’s just gotta be here, man. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

Killian completely understood, and he was going to try and say some words of encouragement, however half-assed they would be but then something caught David’s eye and his friend’s whole demeanor changed. The excitement that pulsed off of him and the adoration told Killian that she was back and his own heart leapt at the prospect. If her friend was here, surely the girl he wanted was here too, right? But when he looked he only saw three brunettes, and the girl of his dreams was nowhere to be seen. This was upsetting in the extreme, but he waited patiently, knowing at the very least David’s girl could tell her where she was.

Funnily enough, the girl who had caught David’s notice was staring at him with almost the same level of intensity. She gazed at him for longer than strangers should, and then she blushed, and that was all it took for David to start moving towards her. Killian followed, noticing the other two women as he did.

“You think he’s the guy?” one of them whispered. “The one from the festival?”

“Oh totally. Look at her, she’s losing it. I just wish Emma was here to see it. Maybe she’d find her guy too.”

Emma – that must be his siren’s name. He heard it and it just clicked inside of his very being, like it belonged with him all this time. He wanted to say it aloud over and over again, to say it in the heat of passion when he’d kissed her senseless or driven her wild with need. But more than that he wanted to see her again.

“Where is she?” he asked, killing David’s attempt at a smooth first greeting and not giving a damn. “Emma, your friend. She was with you at the beach today.”

“Yes, she was,” David’s girl said. “She’s outside. She said she needed some air.”

Completely neglecting his manners Killian rushed off with only a quick, ‘thanks.’ Outside was a loose description of where she could be. At the front of the bar there were people milling around, but his feet took him to the coast, the place where he would go if he needed space. Out here in the darkness there were yellow lanterns and twinkle lights set up, and the pale glow of the moon, but none of it was needed. For there, with her feet in the waves and her hair whipping in the gentle breeze was his woman, radiating her own kind of light that could never be replicated.

Killian stood rooted to the spot, watching her, for longer than he could really know. Any real coherent thought fled the moment he saw her again. Well, the shape of her really, for in the dark, and from the back like this she was a silhouette, dancing at the shoreline, feet bare and hair flowing in the night’s breeze. Killian didn’t know if the music she swayed to was something she could hear from inside the bar or a melody from her head, but either way he stood transfixed, stunned by not only how beautifully she moved, but how freely she expressed herself. This moment was a snapshot into this woman’s very soul, and it was a happy one, a carefree one that didn’t give a damn about the noise or the buzzing all around them. This girl, Emma, just… was, and Killian couldn’t help moving closer, craving the chance to see this siren’s face.

“Come here often, love?” He asked, his voice carrying across the evening air, the slightest tremble discernable in his tone. Emma, for her part, didn’t even flinch, just shook her head without looking at him, as if he and his question were an afterthought.

“Definitely not as often as you use that line,” she quipped, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed at her boldness, and he knew she was right. It was a line, but damn if he could come up with anything original. She stole the air from his lungs and the sense from his mind. He was lucky to have uttered anything at all.

“Forgive me, that was bad. Let me try again. Are you interested in a partner, or is this more a solo escapade you’ve got going here?”

Now Emma whipped her head towards him, and whatever he’d felt for her before ramped infinitely. She was a beautiful woman from any distance, but up close that was even more undeniable. Her soft, full lips tormented him because all he wanted was to claim them and see them swollen from his kisses, and the smattering of freckles on her skin spoke to lots of time out here in the sun. Her hair was hanging lose now, curled and silky, tempting his fingers which craved the change to run through it, and the dress she wore now was red and fiery, a complete transformation from the pale, pure yellow of this afternoon. He caught her scent on the air, a hint of lavender and something else he couldn’t place, but her eyes did the most damage, striking him with a blow of recognition and interest he never could have expected.

“It’s you.”

“Aye, love, it’s me.”

“Sorry about before. A couple of guys have come up to me and some of them forget that no means no.”

“Someone was bothering you?” Killian asked, his anger rising as he looked around for signs of dead men walking. Who would dare to bother his Emma? Oh shit, now he was really losing it, thinking of her as his when they’d barely even met. Only the gentle touch of her hand on his arm could pull him back.

“It’s okay, I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it all my life.”

He hated to think that she had to be her own defender, when she should be protected and provided for in every way she wished, but he loved the feel of her hand on him. Even when she removed it, realizing she’d touched him and pulling back with a little bit of embarrassment, he could feel her branded on his skin. And he liked it A lot.

“But how did you find me?” she asked, letting her happiness at seeing him slip when she probably didn’t mean to. “I mean, I saw you earlier, in town, but I thought you were gone…”

He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, creating a rush of pleasure as they made contact again. It emboldened Killian, and it made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. “I tried to find you earlier, but in the craziness I lost you. I admit I thought you might have been a dream. It was hard for me to imagine you could even be real.”

“But now you’re here. How?”

“Fate, destiny, and perhaps a little help from a local vendor.”

Emma’s eyes shone with wonder and he heard her gasp as he pulled the bracelet he procured earlier and presented it to her. “For you, love.”

“I don’t usually take gifts from strangers,” Emma said as he tied the strands of the trinket together, sealing it around her wrist. He smiled at the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was forgetting himself, but thankfully, Emma didn’t seem to mind too much.

“My name’s Killian. Killian Jones. And you are?”

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything before.

“Yeah, you too,” she said and Killian’s chest swelled with pride. He was still holding onto her, his thumb running against the underside of her wrist as he felt her delicate skin. Her pulse beneath him was rapid, matching the beat of his own, and when he looked back up to her, her eyes were on his lips, torn between hunger, intrigue, and still a little bit of wariness. He wanted to kiss that worry she had away, to show her there would be no reason for fear, not where he was involved, but that might be taking things too fast. He needed something, anything, to show her he could be trusted or to give him just a little more time in her company.

At that moment the music changed and the song filtered over the stereo outside was slower and written out of love. It was intimate and seductive, and for Killian it proved the perfect opening. “So, love, about that dance… would you do me the honor?”

Emma smiled at him, setting him alight as she stepped into his arms, fitting like the piece he’d been missing for too long. It felt amazing to hold her close and sway back and forth with her. One song blurred to another, and another, until truth be told he was so lost in her he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. In the meantime they talked, they danced, they got to know each other but not just with words. This was a blending of two souls, and, if his suspicions were right, the evolution of a love at first sight story that would endure long past this trip.

“I can’t believe you live in New York too,” Emma said as they were finally walking back to the party to rejoin their friends. It was nearly midnight, but it felt like no time had passed at all. “What are the chances?”

“I couldn’t tell you that, love, but I will say I’m glad for it.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, her face a little flushed from their closeness. He stopped their walking, pulling her into his arms and tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.

“Aye. It makes the whole asking you out thing a bit more manageable. Not that distance would have stopped me. I’d have made it work, no matter how far away you may be.”

“You want to ask me out?” she asked, her voice hoarse from emotion and her eyes wide at the prospect.

“I want to do much more than that, love. And it’ll be more than one date I’m after, you can rest assured. But it’s a good place to start, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, maybe,” she said before smiling at him and edging a bit closer so her lips were mere inches from his.

“You’re not convinced?”

“Well, I kind of like the idea of starting with a chance meeting, some moonlight dancing, and a New Years’ kiss…”

Growling out his own approval Killian crushed his lips to hers, tasting her sweetness and savoring every bit of it. She was magic made real, and the feel of her on him, chasing the same high and the same bliss from being with him that he got with her was life altering. Lightening could strike them now and he’d never know, not when he already felt so much with Emma. This was the first kiss they’d ever shared and yet Killian knew it would be the last first kiss either of them ever had. This was the beginning of a new forever, and Emma was right, this was the best kind of start their story could have.

“I was thinking the kiss would come at midnight,” Emma said when they broke apart, her breathing ragged and her green eyes darker from the desire she was experiencing. “You know that’s kind of the tradition.”

“So you’re saying we should wait then? No more until -,”

He couldn’t get the words out before Emma was pulling him in for another kiss, and that was just fine by him. And as the rest of the night sped by, and the year changed from the old to the new, Killian was certain that this lucky happenstance would be something much bigger, and that this time next year and every year thereafter he and Emma would still be together and happy and whole.  

…………

On a boat, on a beach In the water, in the sand, in the back of a bar Cold beer in your hand Breaking hearts, breaking necks When we rolling down the street, heads turning all day when they see you with me I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good Black dress, 2 the 9s, New Year's in a pent From the floor, to the roof, make the skyline spin Yeah, you're killing me boy in your black-faded jeans Ain't gotta work hard when you're smilin' at me Like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Come on baby you look good You look good Baby you look good

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little CS insta-love fluff to get us through the end of this year. Like I said, I hope you all have the best end to your 2019 and a wonderful start to your 2020. Thank you all so much for your kindness, support, and friendship this year. Looking forward to next year and wishing you all the best decade to come!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188

[anditendshowyoudexpect]

as if time stopped

um. it turns out that Ji Seo Yeong fic of mine (AO3) was just the first part of a short series (let’s entitle it annyeong dangsin - there you have your goodbye and your hello in one), because i realized i had to get our favorite devil in as well (@clusterstruck that’s partially on you and your tags again). thing is, while Ji Seo Yeong sort of wrote her part herself, i’m not sure i can do half as decent a job with a supernatural being like Ryu, so i don’t like this one as much (not least because it’s shorter but took me much longer). now, the whole thing obviously calls for at least one more part but i don’t think i have it in me. feel free to pick up the torch though.

as if time stopped (Ryu/Ji Seo Yeong - although, in all fairness, mostly Ryu) link to AO3

Hope. I hate this word.

Even if the concept of time existed in hell, the seventh pit of it would be an exception.

Only the dim-witted humans with their tiny brains were naïve enough to believe in the deity’s mercy and kindness. He knew better. The deity was petty and vindictive and there was certainly no forgiveness for the likes of him.

Faces and scenes replaced one another in an endless procession, and while some of them merely amused him (Blood and viscera, he thought, Really, big guy? You should step up your game), others ripped a gurgling scream of fury and bursts of sparks out of his cracked glowing chest. A middle-aged man with a little girl in his arms… the girl’s stare blank, her skin pale, almost blue, the man’s eyes peering through his broken, half-melted sunglasses: please, bring my daughter back... A young man with a mane of copper red hair… no, an old, gray man with crinkled liver-spotted skin and knobby fingers kneeling at his feet: please, save my son, please, I’ll do anything… His own father's outstretched hand: please, son...

Here, in the infinite nothingness, it all felt like a fraction of a moment — and like an eternity. Had he left the world of mortals yesterday or a century ago? Were the people he used to know sitting to dinner or dead for many years? He couldn’t even remember their names, the pesky humans he’d been toying with while trying to prove the deity wrong.

What was that dull annoying something somewhere under the layers of ash and plasma, gnawing, twisting him from the inside?

The deity be damned, he could bear it. He could take it all for all eternity if it wasn’t for her. That woman. The deity was not playing fair again. That human woman with short blond hair. She came more often than others. He didn’t remember her name either. What did it matter anyway, to him, whose own name was barely more than a number? She would come and look at him, her big eyes shining with tears. She never spoke but he could hear her voice all the same.

Cry if you want to.

And another voice, like an echo: There's even a human who understands a monster like you.

He did not want to give the deity the satisfaction. He swallowed every howl until the very chains that bound him became too heavy, soaked with his agony. He squirmed in the void, crushed by their weight, powerless and still too proud to beg for mercy.

And then her voice said, I hope you’re doing well, you nameless being, making him howl again, now with hysterical laughter at this new torture.

And a million years later, her voice said, Hi… you. I’m looking at the stars. They make me think of you. I wonder if you’re out there somewhere.

And a second ago, her voice said, Hi, you. I wonder if you really liked steaks. Or wine? Or ramyeon? Did you really enjoy all that or was that an act too?

And her voice said, Hi, you. I'm thinking about you.

And her voice said, Hi, you. I think I miss you.

And her voice said, I’m tired.

And her voice said, I’m alright. I hope you’re alright, too.

And her voice said, I hope you’re still there somewhere.

STOP IT! he yelled finally, the pain too excruciating to go on. I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE SO STOP IT JUST MAKE IT STOP!

But the deity wouldn’t respond. The deity wouldn’t even gloat.

And he saw her again, walking slowly in a bustling crowd of other humans, and he followed her instinctively, as he had back then, almost against his will, drawn by an invisible force. Something was off. He was someone else now. He remembered the sensation — the feeling of being in a human body. What is it now, you heavenly bastard, isn’t your revenge complete yet? This body was young, full of energy, so unruly — some humans were like this when their soul was still more or less untarnished by sin and didn't want to share. It expelled him before he could touch her. He saw her wild eyes and… screamed again, rattling his chains, his one and a half wing drooping in helpless resignation.

He closed his eye. Alright, you divine asshole. Exhaustion washed over him like waves and his thoughts wandered off again before he knew it. What was that song he had sung to her?

Will I get to see you again?

Enough. Fucking enough. He stood up in a cloud of sparks and focused and he spread his arms, and the chains fell as if they were made of paper. So easy. He grinned. They really should have upgraded the security here. If he ran this place, he would have made sure no one could escape.

Her voice called him again and he froze, baffled. Surely, that was impossible now. Which could mean only one thing. It was her calling him. 

Come back to me, you.

The pain, whose name was hope, returned, redoubled, striking him down again, reducing him to a fiery lump of raw emotion. His ears filled with a cacophony of sounds and had he listened hard, he would have made out one clear voice in the jumbling mess of the noise that surrounded him.

YOU MUST SEE THE END FOR IT TO END.

DID YOU THINK I ENJOYED WATCHING YOU SUFFER?

YOU PUT THESE CHAINS ON YOURSELF.

YOU CAN BE FREE IF YOU WANT TO BE FREE. IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE PUNISHED YOURSELF ENOUGH, THEN RISE, MY ANGEL, RISE, MY DEVIL. RISE, MY CHILD.

But the 49th Ryu Who Danced Three Days After Its Birth from a Three Thousand-day Fire didn’t hear any of it. The void started folding in on itself, crumbling like a sandcastle. He gasped and he laughed, and he lifted his head and staggered back to his feet, eyes flashing triumphantly, two wings billowing in the ethereal wind.

Ji Seo Yeong. Her name was Ji Seo Yeong. And she was waiting for him.

Remember this, you holy jerk. You haven't tamed me. I will never be one of your angels again.

It was time to get back to what really mattered.

He had enjoyed being in Mo Tae Kang’s well-groomed body — the man obviously looked after it well, eating healthy, exercising, moisturizing. And he looked stunning in suits. When you lived among humans for so long, you couldn't help adopting some of their vices. Vanity wasn’t the worst of them.

Of course, she would blow a gasket. The woman had a temper of a small typhoon. But he was a devil, not her puppy. Besides, she never said anything about using replicas of people’s bodies, now did she? And if this created a bit (a lot) of confusion and inconvenience for the real Mo Tae Kang, well, even better.

He felt a strange pleasant rumble roll through him. That body fit with hers perfectly — he remembered the taste of her lips, the weight of her in his arms, the firm softness of her stomach against his cheek, the sting of her tears on his neck, her hands in his hair, her shoulder blades under the palms of his hands. These were not Mo Tae Kang’s memories — oddly, he could access almost all of those, but the ones that were about her seemed to be locked in a safety deposit box and he had only one key.

Ah well. He would make his own.

He stepped out of the mirror into Mo Tae Kang’s living room, fixing his tie, as the petrified original in the identical outfit stared unblinking at his reanimated reflection. The actor’s cleaning lady would find him fully clothed and soaking wet in his bathtub a couple of hours later, dazed and without a clue how he had ended up there. A small revenge on the man who had known her first — pettiness and vindictiveness were not the deity’s exclusive domain.

So what if he had lost the bet (although he could still argue with that)? He had been long bored with it anyway. Too much time wasted on the stupid thing, too much missed. This time, he would just have fun. This time, he was truly free. This time, he had a much better reason.

This time, he would tell her his name.

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 3: Bad Day at Black Rock

di

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 8,860

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN** There was less tension in the air since Dean and Riley had talked things out. Dean’s deal still hung above them all like a dark cloud. It was something they didn’t really talk about, but whenever Sam and Riley had the time, they were researching ways to help the older Winchester. Neither were giving up any time soon in finding an answer.

Dean, Riley, and Sam moved about the motel room getting ready to head out of town. As Dean cleaned his gear and packed, Sam cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh--Rye and I are gonna go grab some dinner.”

Popping his head up from his task, Dean told him, “I don’t care what you get, just bring me back some pie.”

Riley chuckled before running to give him a quick kiss. “You’re my favorite.”

“Hey, if you like me that much, you should stay and enjoy the empty room with me,” he replied with a hooked eyebrow and a hungry look in his eyes.

“Oh, god,” Sam interrupted, annoyed. “I need her help carrying stuff back.”

“Pfft. Sissy.” Dean mumbled as he went back to work.

As Sam and Riley left the room, Riley’s hands found her jacket pockets. “Alright, what’s up? You get dinner alone all the time without a problem.”

He sighed. “Look, I just couldn’t talk to you about this in front of Dean, but...I did some digging. A lot of digging actually. Remember what that girl from the diner said? That we should look into our mom’s friends?”

“Yeah. Dean and I have been practically attached at the hip, I haven’t had a chance to.”

“Well, I did. I made more calls than I can even remember and--” Sam stopped Riley when they reached the back of the motel. “Riley, every person that our moms ever knew? They’re dead.”

“...what? What are you talking about, Sam?”

“Doctors, relatives--your mom’s fuckin’ dentist and neighbors--it’s like they’ve all been systematically wiped off the map one by one.”

Riley just stood with a scrunched face trying to piece it all together. “But, why? I mean, was it all the Yellow-Eyed demon?”

Just then, a voice from behind them spoke out. “It would seem that way, wouldn’t it, Riley?” 

When the hunters turned, there stood the blonde woman from the night of the demon attack and who then found them at the diner. 

“Hey, kids.”

“Alright,” Sam started with a scoff. “What’s your deal? You show up wherever we are, you know all about us and our moms…”

“Yeah. Enough with the cryptic games. I know you’re not a hunter.” Riley bit. “We don’t even know your name and you act like you have our social security numbers.”

The blonde woman smirked. “I’m Ruby. That’s all you need to know.”

Riley felt something in the pit of her stomach. As her abilities had begun to come back recently, she was feeling more and more. She trusted her instincts and rammed the girl against the wall. Riley’s arm held her still against her throat as she yelled in her face, “who the fuck are you?”

“Fine.” Ruby blinked once and when her eyes opened, the went demon-black before she blinked again and they returned to normal. 

Jumping back, Riley realized they were both unarmed and backed up to Sam. 

“Think twice before either of you do anything stupid.”

“Why should we?” Sam sneered.

“I’m here to help you.”

With a look of disgust, Riley sized her up. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

“God’s honest truth,” she teased. “I mean--or whatever.”

“You’re a fucking demon.”

Ruby huffed and rolled her eyes. “Don't be such a racist. I'm here because I want to help you. And I can if...you trust me. “

“Trust you?” Sam asked in disbelief of her bold choice of words. “Start talking. All those murders...what was the demon trying to cover up? What happened to our moms?”

“I honestly don't know. That's what I’m trying to find out. All I know is that it's about you two.”

“What?”

The demon laughed to herself. “Don't you get it? It's all about you and Riley. What happened to your moms, what happened to their friends--they're trying to cover up what he did to you. And I want to help you figure it out.”

“I don’t buy it,” Riley answered back. “Why would you wanna help us?”

“I have my reasons. Not all demons are the same. Not all of us want the same thing. Me?” Ruby just shrugged. “I want to help you from time to time. That's all.  And if you let me, there's something in it for you.”

“There’s nothing we could ever want--”

Interrupting Riley, the demon hissed, “I can help you save Dean.”

Sam and Riley both looked at each other in shock before a loud noise came from the trash cans behind them. They spun around to the sound and saw nothing there. 

When they turned back to Ruby, she was gone.

------

The sound of the Impala’s engine roared down the dark Indiana highway. The rain had covered the ground and reflected the moonlight as leftover drops clung to the car.

Dean’s knuckles turned nearly white as he listened to what Sam and Riley told him about Ruby. “You two are unbelievable. I mean the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don’t fuckin’ chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam replied with a breath of exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because...because she said she might be able to help us out!” 

As the brothers continued to bicker, Riley sat quietly in the backseat.

“How?” Dean sniped. There was a pause between them before the older Winchester pushed. “No really, you guys, how? How could she possibly help us?”

With a quick roll of her eyes, Riley couldn’t help the words she blurted out. “She told us that she could help us save you. Alright?” In the rearview mirror, Dean’s eyes met hers. “She said she can help us get you out of your dumb deal.”

Dean’s eyes darted from Sam to the mirror again and again as he stared at them incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you two, huh? She's lying! You gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is--it's me. She knows you’ll do stupid shit for me.” Taking a deep breath, Dean tried to collect himself, still filled with deep frustration that Riley could feel. “What else did she say?” No one answered him. “Guys!”

“Nothing, okay?!” Sam bit back. “Look we’re not stupid, Dean. We’re not talking about trusting her, we’re talking about using her.” Every word Sam said seemed to get him more and more pent up. Any time he talked about Dean’s deal, he couldn’t help how emotional he got about it all. “I mean we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy; we don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now yes, it's a risk, we know that, but we need to take it.” Before anyone could say anything else, a phone began to ring. Sam sighed as he reached for his cell. “It's not mine.”

“Not mine,” Riley added. “Not Dean’s either; it’s back here with me.”

Dean nodded to the passenger’s side. “Check the glove compartment, it's Dad’s.” When his brother gave him a confused look, Dean went on. “I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

Opening the glove compartment, Sam pulled out an older flip phone and answered it. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey…” He listened as the person on the other line spoke. “No! No, no, no, don't--don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just, uh--can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Um, I uh--I don't have my book in front of me,” he told the caller as he gestured to Riley for a pen. “Do you--do you have the address so I can...sure, okay. Go ahead.” Sam scribbled down the address on a notepad nearby. “Right, thanks a lot.” As he ended the call, the Winchester looked taken back. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place? Outside of Buffalo?”

“What?” Dean answered surprised. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

Trying to diffuse the tension, Riley leaned forward. “Fifty bucks says it’s where he hid dead bodies.”

------

The hunters stepped out of the storage facility elevator and onto the concrete third floor. Dean just lightly shook his head. “I swear. Dad and all his fuckin’ secrets. Spend all this time with the guy and it's like we barely even know the man.”

“Well,” Riley told them as she pointed out the right container. “Looks like we might find out something about him.”

Dean unlocked the padlock and slid up the sliding door to a dark room. All three pulled out their flashlights before entering cautiously. 

On the dusty floor of the container was a protective symbol drawn in red, along with several bloody boot prints.

“Looks like John only hosted demon-free parties in his home away from home. And, uh--correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s blood, my friends.”

“Check this out.” Dean crouched down to hold up a tripwire. His eyes followed it to see the wire had been attached to a shotgun hidden inside a large animal skull. “Whoever broke in here got tagged. I got two sets of boot treads here, looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking.”

Continuing to look around, Sam asked, “so, what's the deal? Dad would do work here or something?”

Riley shrugged sarcastically. “I mean, I get it. Living the high life.” She pushed a cobweb out of the way and shook her head rapidly to get it off, brushing anything out of her hair with a disgusted expression. “Classy as always, John.”

They all ventured further inside, splitting up to look around. Sam aimed his flashlight over to a desk and picked up a trophy from the shelf. Scraping off the dust he read, “1995. Oh, no way!” he smiled with a chuckle of excitement. “This is my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah. It was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy,” Dean teased as he wandered over to another find. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother beamed and laughed as he pumped the shotgun.

A reflection pinged from off a piece of glass that caught Riley’s eye. She reached out to pick up an old frame with most of the photograph covered in thick dust. Wiping it off, she smiled from ear to ear and scoffed in surprise with a look of pure joy. 

“Guys, come here.” 

Sam and Dean went to her side and looked over her shoulders. It was a picture of Jackson and John in front of the Impala and Jack’s beloved truck. They had their arms around each other and were grinning. 

“I’ve never seen a picture of them together.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, me neither. Man, this had to have been taken--what? Twenty or so years ago? I mean, they look so young.”

“Well, hunting ages you,” Riley said as she placed the frame back onto the forgotten desk with a slight frown until she nearly gasped at something nearby. “Oh, my god.” She found a dusty ribbon hanging from a nearby cabinet. ‘1997 Talent Show 1st Place’ “I can’t believe it. This is the ribbon I won for a talent show my dad pushed me to do--first time I ever performed in front of anyone but him.”

When Dean looked it over, a pleased hum came from his chest. “Guess Dad and Jack shared this place,” he smiled as he looked around again into the dusty space. “Little bit of work, little bit of home.”

Riley pocketed the ribbon before the couple turned to see Sam headed toward an open door in the back. 

As they flashed their lights around, they saw an already open, rusty, metal bar door that led into a caged area. Weapons of every assortment lined the shelves and hung all over the walls. Thick dust had settled on them after not being moved for several years.

“Holy...shit...” Dean uttered slowly as he looked around. “Look at this, they had friggin’ land mines.”

Riley’s bros scrunched with puzzlement. “Wait. The guys that broke in here didn’t take any of this? None of the guns, grenades...nothing? Safe bet that they knew what they were looking for.”

On a far shelf, Sam spotted old boxes inscribed with symbols. “Hey, check this out. See these symbols? That's binding magic. These are curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” the older brother asked. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes...but he never did say where they ended up.”

“Huh,” Riley stated. “So, what is this place? Their dump yard?” She noticed a rectangular shape in the dust and ran her finger along it. “Well, that’s not good. One of these suckers is missing.”

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean shrugged.

She turned with a sigh to meet his gaze with a look of exasperation. “Right, because luck always works in our favor.”

------

Sam, Dean, and Riley walked through a rundown apartment hallway looking for the right door as they cocked their guns. Following what lead they had, the hunters knew where to find the locker thieves.

“58,” Riley whispered with a nod in the door’s direction.

Dean clucked. “Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of the security camera…” 

His boot flew into the door with force and it splintered open. The three fanned out to block all exits from the two men that sat on a disgusting green couch. Peeling walls, the faint smell of mold and strewn about clutter seemed to be the chosen nest for the burglars. 

“Freeze! Freeze! Nobody fuckin’ move!” Dean commanded.

The two men on the couch jumped up with their hands in the air. One had blonde hair so short, that from far away you might have thought he had no hair at all. He had a matching goatee and his clothes were distressed and worn, his white tank top stained down the front. A bandage was wrapped around his shoulder from a fresh wound. He was obviously the one that got clipped in the storage unit. His partner was in a beat up flannel and was almost completely bald. The days' old shave on his face matched his appearance all too well.

“Don’t move!” Sam commanded loudly.

Disoriented and caught off guard, the wounded man shouted, “what the fuck is this?

Riley’s face grew stern and she yelled back. “They said don’t move, asshole! Alright, which one of you is Wayne?” When the blonde turned to Riley she smirked and then looked at the other thief. “So, that must make you Grossman.”

“Alright,” Dean started as he eased on over to them with his gun still drawn. “Give us the box. And please tell me that you didn’t--”

“Oh, they did,” Sam replied as his eyes went to the open curse box on the side table.

As he charged at the blonde thief, Dean shoved him against the wall. “You fucking opened it?!” 

Panting and still befuddled, Wayne shouted, “are you guys cops?”

“What was in the box?” Dean caught him glancing over at the coffee table. There, sat a white and brown rabbit’s foot on a short, silver ball chain “Oh, was that is, huh? It was, wasn't it?” Taking his eye off the pinned man, Dean took a harder look in the object’s direction. “What is that thing?”

Using Dean’s distraction, Wayne knocked the gun from the hunter’s hand. As it fell to the floor, it went off and the bullet shot across the room. It ricocheted off a radiator and hit Sam’s gun, causing him to drop it. 

The same bullet boomeranged again, causing Riley to dive out of the way and fall before it broke a nearby lamp. 

Sam and Grossman went for the Winchester’s gun in the same moment as Wayne pushed Sam into Dean. Falling back onto the coffee table, Dean launched the rabbit’s foot into the air and then to the floor.

Sam winced with guilt. “Sorry!” the young Winchester told his brother.

Riley charged in the direction of the two strangers, ready to fight. But she immediately tripped on the cord of the broken lamp with a yelp before going down again. 

Grossman threw himself at Sam, sending them both to the floor before he started to punch the Winchester in the face. The blonde thief took Dean’s gun and when he lifted it to aim at Sam, the weapon struck Dean hard square under the chin, knocking him down once more. Grossman had his hands wrapped tightly around Sam’s neck and began to strangle him. 

The Winchester reached out for the rabbit’s foot nearby, just barely out of reach. Managing to grab it just in time, Sam then knocked Grossman’s hands away from his throat and kicked him hard back into the corner.

Finally on his feet again, Sam held up the rabbit’s foot. “Guys! I got it!”

“Sam!” Riley yelled as she saw Wayne cock Dean’s gun and aim it toward Sam’s face.

Wayne pulled the trigger on Sam and the gun jammed. He panicked and tried to clear the chamber while Riley and Dean got up to try and stop him. 

Surprised at the turn of events, Wayne stumbled back and tripped over a rug. The trip sent him backward and over the couch before he knocked himself out.

The hunters all looked at each other utterly puzzled as Grossman began to get up to point the gun at Sam. As he stood, his head his the bookshelf above, causing the large books to fall on top of his head before he fell unconscious. The gun flew out of his hand during his fall and landed perfectly in Sam’s hands. 

Riley and Dean stared at him, astounded.

“Well, that was a lucky break!” Dean panted looking at his brother. “Is that a rabbit's foot?!”

Sam held it up by its chain. “I think it is.”

“Huh.”

Riley sucked in air through her teeth and rubbed her backside. “Can I be done falling now?”

------

In a parking lot not far away, Dean walked over to the Impala with two paper bags in his hands. Riley and Sam sat waiting inside as Dean joined them. 

Taking an instant ice pack out from the bag, he handed it to Riley who sat in the backseat. “Here. Fix that cute butt of yours.”

She took it from him with an approving groan. “Oh, my god I love you so much.” Riley cracked the pack and it quickly began to cool before she tucked it into her pants onto her bruised cheek. “Oh…” she almost moaned. “So good.”

“I'm not finding anything on it in Dad's journal,” Sam told them flipping through the book. 

Dean’s attention switched to the second paper bag and he pulled out several scratch cards with a grin at his brother. 

“Dean, come on.”

“What?! Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at your head and my gun don't jam. So, that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out...also a lucky break. Here, scratch one. C'mon Sam, scratch and win!” Dean handed over a coin with the card and Sam scratched it with a huff.

“Dean, it's gotta be cursed somehow. Otherwise, Dad or Jackson wouldn't have locked it up.”

Taking the newly scratched card from Sam’s hand, Dean beamed as he looked it over. “$1200...you just won $1200!” He laughed and hollered with excitement. “I don't know, man, it doesn't seem that cursed to me!”

Not long after, Dean laid out six scratch cards on the hood of the Impala as he calculated his winnings. He was still laughing, “Oh, man!”

Sam and Riley were on speakerphone with Bobby several parking spots away while the seasoned hunter bit into the siblings through the line. “You touched it? Damn it, Sam!”

“Bobby,” Riley almost pleaded. “Come on. We didn’t know. Our dad’s never told us about this thing. I mean, did you know about the storage locker in Black Rock?”

“Their lockup? Yeah, I knew. Hell, I built those curse boxes for them.” He sighed in frustration, trying to remain calm. “Listen, you have got a serious problem. That rabbit's foot ain't no dime store notion. It's real Hoodoo--Old World stuff.”

Noticing something, Sam bent down and lifted a newspaper off the ground. Underneath was a mint condition gold watch. He held it up to show Dean, and his brother just mouthed, ‘awesome’.

Bobby went on. “Made by a Baton Rouge conjure woman about a hundred years ago.”

Riley blew a raspberry before replying, “well, it’s one hell of a good luck charm--crazy good.”

“It's not a luck charm, it's a curse! She made it to kill people! See, you touch it, you own it. You own it--sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the Devil. But, you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you're dead inside a week.”

“Well, so I won't lose it, Bobby,” Sam told him confidently.

“Everybody loses it!”

“Well, then, how do we break the curse?”

With a sigh, Bobby answered, “I don't know if you can. Lemme look through my library and make some calls. Just sit tight.”

As Bobby ended the call, Riley looked up at her brother as he put the rabbit foot back into his pocket. “Well, that’s not good.”

“Dude!” Dean hollered out. “We're up fifteen grand!”

------

In desperate need of lunch, the hunters headed for the closest restaurant, a “Biggerson’s”. As they walked inside, they continued their conversation.

“Don't worry,” the older brother told them both. “Bobby'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little ‘Rain Man’. You can be Rain Man,” Dean added pointing to Sam with a grin and then wrapping his arm around Riley.

Sam had been worried ever since talking to Bobby and so had Riley. As if they didn’t have enough to concern themselves with, now Sam was cursed. 

He and Riley shared their anxiety without a word. 

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam turned to the restaurant owner at the counter. “Hi, uh--table for three, please.”

The man at the counter beamed from ear to ear and shouted, “congratulations!” A loud alarm went off and the hunters all shared a stunned look. “You are the one-millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” The whole staff began to sing and take photographs. Balloons and streamers poured from the ceiling as they were handed a giant check for them to hold. “You’ve just won one year of free food from any and all Biggerson locations!” 

As the cameras continued to click, flashes went off and Dean smiled ecstatically, while Riley and Sam both turned to each other in embarrassment.

------

The family had sat down in one of the booths near the windows and enjoyed a large meal. Employees were still cleaning the front area from the tossed confetti and balloons and the patrons had all gone back to their meals.

Sam worked diligently on his laptop looking for answers with Riley at his side, scanning everything he was reading. Dean sat across from them both, eating a bowl of ice cream.

“Bobby's right,” Sam said. “This lore goes way back. Pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit--has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth.”

Ignoring his brother, Dean scooped up another large bite of ice cream and mumbled with his mouthful. “I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's.” He was immediately struck with brain freeze and the others chuckled.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.” Riley was up and gone just as quick as she said it.

Dean leaned out from the booth to watch her walk away and he just smirked mischievously. “Mm. I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her leave.”

“Dude,” Sam scoffed as he went back to work.

At that moment, a man in old sneakers, with a worn hoodie and sweats walked right beside them. His hood was over his face and he stumbled like a drunk. 

The man reached into his pocket to pull out a handful of change, only to drop coins and crumpled dollar bills onto the floor. He clumsily squat down to pick it up and Sam rushed to help.

“Here.” Sam collected the money as quick as possible and handed it to the disheveled stranger.

The man never looked up, his voice hoarse and tired. “Thank you.”

Sam helped the man stand once they were finished and pat him on the back. “Take it easy, man.”

Just as wobbly as he walked by, the stranger went to the front door and left.

“Man. Someone should tell the guy to lay off the sauce,” Dean sniped as his brother sat back down.

As the young Winchester picked up his coffee, he knocked the cup over and managed to spill it all over the table and into his lap. 

Sam jumped out of his seat at the warm liquid in his lap. “Oh! Oh, shit, uh…” He turned and a waiter who carried a full tray crashed right into him, sending things flying and causing a scene. 

Dean watched, completely shocked. 

“Sorry!” Sam pleaded with the waiter before looking back at Dean.

“How was that good?”

Riley walked in from the bathroom in awe at the disaster. “What the fuck did I miss?”

Sam searched his jacket pocket only to come up empty. The rabbit foot was gone.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean uttered as he scurried out of the booth.

The brothers rushed toward the entrance as Riley trailed close behind. “I’ll ask it again: what the fuck did I miss?” she called out.

Sam and Dean’s eyes darted around the area looking for the stranger Sam had helped as they ran out. There was a loud grunt as Sam tripped and fell flat on his face, causing Dean to stop in his tracks.

“Ooh,” Riley seethed.

Dean went to help pick him up off the ground. “Wow! You suck!”

“Ow…” Sam groaned as he looked down. His jeans were torn open at both knees which were bloody and raw.

“Oh, my god,” Riley said with annoyance at her realization. “You lost the foot, didn’t you?”

“No! Well--I mean, yeah. Some homeless looking guy...he took it.”

“So, what? Now your luck turns bad?” Dean asked.

“I guess…”

Riley’s gaze went up to both of the boys. “Should I ask how bad?”

------

Needing answers, the hunters went back to the thieves’ apartment. They had heard on the police scanners that Wayne had died of ridiculous circumstances after tripping and being impaled by a barbecue fork. 

Wayne had lost the foot, so it was bound to happen.

Dean, Sam, and Riley walked through the front door to see Grossman grieving the loss of his partner. He was drinking and slumped down in his chair. 

Dean and Riley went further in and Sam stayed back just to be careful.

“Oh, man. What do you want?”

“Heard about your friend,” Dean clicked his tongue. “That's bad luck.”

“Fuck off.”

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because the asshole just stole it from us,” Riley snarked and Grossman laughed at the hunters’ misfortune.

“Listen, man, this is seri--” Sam stepped forward and tripped on a wire on the floor mid-sentence. A CD player was pulled from a shelf by the cord, sending it and Sam crashing to the ground. Sam even took out a lamp as he went down. 

Riley’s face went into her palm watching the clumsy state of her brother.

Dean just rolled his eyes and didn’t even look. “Sam, you okay?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah, I'm good!” he murmured from behind the couch. Sam stood up weakly as Riley helped him.

Returning his attention to the thief, Dean demanded, “I want you to tell us his name.”

“Fuck you.”

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner. It was the rabbit's foot.”

Grossman scoffed incredulously. “You're crazy, man.”

Riley was losing her patience and she strode over next to Dean and the thief. “You know he’s not. All that luck? The random flukes? You lose the foot and your luck goes sour--fast. That was what killed your buddy. Our brother? Now, he’s next and who knows who else after that.”

“She’s right,” Dean agreed. “Now, I can read people...and I get it. You're a thief, and a scumbag, that's fine. But you're not a killer. Are you?

Grossman shook his head and his eyes welled. “No,” he almost whispered. “Lewis--he said his name was Lewis. That’s all I know.”

Riley’s eyes grew at his words. “Wait a minute--Lewis? What did this guy look like?”

“I don’t know. Uh...tall? Like--his height,” he said pointing to Dean. “Uh--dark black hair…”

“Did he have a small scar at his right eyebrow?” When Riley asked her question, Dean looked at her taken back.

“Yeah…” Grossman told her. “How did you---”

Interrupting the thief, Riley exhaled harshly. “Goddammit.” She spun on her heel and stomped out of the apartment.

Dean’s gaze met Sam’s who just shrugged in return.

------

Outside, in the dark parking lot, Riley ran her hands through her hair and lightly growled with frustration. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Alright,” Dean started. “What the hell was that about? You know this guy?”

“Yes…” she almost whined. “Ugh. Lewis--Richard Lewis.”

While the couple talked, Sam came up close behind until he heard a squishing sound. He got a deeply frustrated look on his face and lifted his shoe to see pink bubblegum strung between the pavement and the sole of his shoe.

“Care to explain how you know a thief?”

Groaning with discomfort and irritation, Riley went on. “Dad and I, we ran into him on a hunt about three years ago. He said he was a hunter and was super eager to help with a case that was kicking our asses. It was an old school ghost. Turned out the spirit was tied to an antique diamond necklace. When we planned to destroy it, Richard took it and disappeared. Last I heard he was in the middle east somewhere.”

Sam began to scrape the bubblegum off his shoe using a broken storm drain grating. He mumbled under his breath with exasperation.

The older Winchester could see how fidgety Riley was and his brow furrowed as his lips pursed. “Mm-mm. It’s more than that--I can tell.” After an awkward pause, Dean gave a dramatic and theatrical gasp with wide eyes. “You slept with him.”

“Yes! Okay? Yes, I slept with him.”

At that moment, Sam moved his foot too hard and dislodged his shoe. It dropped into the drain with a splash and he bent down to reach in and search for it.

“Well, now this whole thing just feels dirty.” Dean frowned.

Riley’s head fell backward and her mouth went open with a frustrated sound. “Ugh...Dean...whatever. It was three years ago! Let’s just find the son of a bitch and get this over with before our brother ends up choking on his own spit.” The couple turned to Sam, who looked thoroughly defeated. “What?”

“...I lost my shoe,” Sam said sadly.

The two looked down at Sam’s sock-clad foot and sighed. Sam hung his head in shame as Dean rolled his eyes and began to walk away.

------

The Impala pulled into the lot of a local motel and stopped outside the entrance. Sam sat in front, still looking dejected while Riley was in the back with her arms folded, dreading where the night was heading.

With his phone at his ear, Dean finished his call. “Alright, Bobby, thanks. Hey, we owe ya--another one.” He hung up at turned to look at the others. “So, Bobby knows about this Richard dude too. He’s got it on pretty good authority that the guy lives in Queens. It’ll take us about two hours to get there.”

“So what are we doing here?” Sam asked.

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed.”

After checking in, Dean unlocked the door and led Sam inside as Riley turned on the lights.

Sam exhaled like a petulant child. “Guys, what am I even supposed to do?”

“Nothing!” Riley said sternly. “Absolutely nothing.”

Pulling a chair into the middle of the room, Dean agreed, “yep. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your damn nose.”

As Sam sat in the chair, he watched Dean and Riley leave. 

Before they closed the door, Riley leaned her head back inside. “No guitar practice while I’m gone. I love you like crazy, but I’m more worried about that guitar.” She pointed at him firmly and closed the door before locking it.

His brother’s words had gotten into Sam’s head and he felt an itch grow on his nose. He wrinkled it a few times before risking a scratch. 

When Sam’s hands fell back into his lap, he slumped slightly in his chair with and exhaled in frustration.

------

The Queens apartment was elegant and richly decorated. The early morning light flooded the large space. Various valuable artifacts including vases, paintings, sculptures and more adorned the walls and shelves. 

Richard Lewis calmly paced around his hardwood floors on a phone call. He was the epitome of ’tall, dark, and handsome’. Standing at over six feet, Richard’s black hair was slicked back with a small strand down on the side of his forehead. His beard was short and well groomed, his eyes a hazel brown. The well-off thief wore high-end slacks, shiny shoes and a button up; looking nothing like he did at the diner.

With a deep and smooth voice, Richard’s British accent dripped from his lips. “Because you shook on one point five. Well, maybe I should just take it somewhere else?” He chuckled cockily from his chest. “Don't threaten me, Luke. I know your reputation, but I also know you know mine.” Richard’s security monitors registered Dean and Riley approaching, only he wasn’t paying attention. “Well, I'm glad you see it that way. I'll see you at the airstrip in an hour.”

Ending the call, he picked up the rabbit’s foot with kitchen tongs as he smiled with satisfaction. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a quick motion on his security monitors and put down the foot on the counter. Richard bent down to take out a hidden gun from his wine cooler. He moved through the living room toward the front door only to see it was ajar. 

As he approached, he noticed a beeping noise. The alarm system panel was flashing ‘ERROR’ with a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the panel. ‘TURN AROUND’.

Immediately spinning around with his gun ready, he turned to see Dean and Riley with their guns drawn as well. They were officially in a stand-off.

“Riley…” he nearly moaned with a smirk.

“Richard…” Riley replied flatly.

“Long time, no see.”

“Can’t say I missed out on anything.”

He feigned offense. “Oh, Riley...you wound me.” Richard smiled at her partner, smugly. “And you must be Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, Dick,” Dean bit. “You got something of ours. And you’re gonna give it back.” He scratched his nose with a free hand, giving Riley their signal. “Are you kidding me, Rye? This guy is like fuckin’ John Stamos with a British accent!”

After hearing Deans thought, Riley slightly cocked her head. “Thank you! I’d always tried to figure out where I’d seen him before’”

Dean shot Riley a look of ‘what the fuck’.

With an arrogant chuckle, Lewis stared him down. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not.” He turned to Riley and looked her over. 

Noticing immediately, Dean’s grip tightened on the handle of his gun. 

“And...yes, sweetheart, I know it’s cursed.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Don’t call her that.”

Richard chuckled again and seemed to pity the hunter. “I’m assuming you must be the boyfriend?” 

Dean didn’t even acknowledge his question and shot a quick look at Riley. “Please tell me I can shoot this asshole.”

“Later.” The jealousy coming from Dean was palpable and she could feel it all. He wanted to take Riley right then and there in front of her old fling to claim her as his own. Not to mention, his thoughts let her know how badly Dean wanted to pummel Richard.

“Anyway,” Richard went on. “Cursed or not, you’re be surprised what some people would pay for something like that. There's a lucrative market out there--a lot of money to be made,” he continued to find humor in their conversation. “You hunters with all those amulets and talismans you use to stop those big bad monsters. Any one of them could put your children's children through college. I mean,” the thief shrugged at Riley, “that necklace alone got me a cool million.”

“Yeah, and now that dangerous spirit will never be put to rest until I hunt it down all over again.”

Dean scoffed with disbelief. “You know the truth, about what's really going on out there and this is what you decide to do with it? You become a thief?”

“I procure unique items for a select clientele.”

“Yeah. A thief.”

“No,” he grinned. “A great thief.

“Enough, Richard.” Riley’s empathic ability let his pompous attitude pour from him and it was enough to make her sick. “Look, we need that foot. You took it from my brother and his luck went to shit.”

“Your brother?” he asked condescendingly.

“Oh, that’s right. That word must be strange for you seeing you’re incapable of caring about anyone but yourself.”

Dean whistled at her quip. “That’s rough, Dick.”

“Richard, he’s gonna die if we don’t destroy that thing. So, we’re gonna need that back.”

“Okay,” he said almost teasingly. “One point five million, and it’s yours.”

“Nice. Yeah, I'll just call my banker,” Dean snarked. “How'd you even find the damn thing? Stuck in the back of some storage place, middle of nowhere.”

Looking over his shoulder, Richard’s gaze went to a Ouija Board and planchette on the mantle. “I just asked a few of the ghosts of the people that it killed. They were very attuned into its location.”

“So, you're only out for yourself, huh? It's all about number one?”

“Being a hunter is so much more noble? A bunch of obsessed, revenge-driven sociopaths trying to save a world that can't be saved? We're all going to Hell. Might as well enjoy the ride.” Richard nodded in Riley’s direction. “I seem to remember you enjoying the ride, Ms. Munroe.”

“Yep. I’m gonna put a bullet in his fucking head,” Dean thought.

“Dean, be cool.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean pulled himself together. “Anyhoo, this has been charming but, uh--look at the time. Oh, and...this?” the hunter asked as he pulled the rabbit’s foot from his pocket with a proud grin. 

Richard looked furious and he gritted his teeth. 

Utterly pleased with himself, Dean smirked as he went on. “Looks like you're not the only one with sticky fingers. If it's any consolation, I think you're a truly awful person...and I hate you,” he smiled.

Richard fired at Dean and missed completely. Dean whirled around and grabbed Riley before pulling her close and using himself as a shield. Lewis fired again, the bullet ricocheted around, breaking several objects and hitting the Ouija Board.

The Winchester chuckled and held out the rabbit’s foot to taunt him before he covered Riley and ran for the door.

Richard shot at Dean’s retreating form, and the bullet again ricocheted around, destroying more of his collectibles.

As the couple darted out the door, Dean was the last out and laughed to himself before yelling back, “see ya, Dick!”

------

Sam sat, bored beyond measure, in the same spot his siblings had left him. In the middle of that cheap motel room, he gently rocked back and forth in the chair over the blue carpet. 

Suddenly, the A/C unit on the wall in front of him began to make a clunking, grinding sound. There was a brief spark before smoke began to seep out.

Despairingly, Sam moaned, “oh, come on, I--I didn't--I wasn't…” he sighed before getting up and cautiously approaching the unit. 

As he got closer, the unit caught on fire and Sam’s eyes grew with worry. He ripped the comforter off the nearest bed and attempted to snuff out the fire. Just when he thought he had it under control, he got up only to find that his jacket sleeve was on fire. 

Sam panicked and used the curtain in an attempt to put it out. The curtain ripped and fell away, revealing two men waiting at the window. 

He then fell back, knocking himself out on the floor.

------

When Sam regained consciousness, his eyes weakly opened and he groaned out. The sound of tape being torn off echoed in his ringing ears as he realized his muscles were feeling constricted. 

Sam jolted as he came to his senses to find two strange men restraining him to his chair with duct tape. The hunter had never seen them before and his mind ran a mile minute trying to understand what was happening.

“Oh, he’s awake,” one of the captors chuckled. He was probably in his early 50’s with brown hair and goatee.

“Back with us, eh?” The other man got up from his spot on the bed with a pleased grin. He had scruffy blonde hair and was about the same age as his disgruntled partner. The stranger had unkind wrinkles to parts of his face and wore a neutral colored Henley that he left completely unbuttoned.

“We didn't even have to touch you. You just went all…” he mimicked a dramatic and violent wiggle and laughed. “...spastic, and knocked yourself out? It was like watching Jerry Lewis try to stack chairs!”

“Who are you?” Sam asked somewhat weakly. “What do you wa--”

Snapping his finger at the hunter, the blonde man stopped Sam mid-sentence and stood in the silence for a moment. “Kubrik. This here is Creedy. That’s all you need to know. The funny thing is, I used to think your friend Gordon sent me.”

“Gordon? Oh, come on!” the Winchester almost whined.

“Yeah, because he asked me to track you down, and put a bullet in your brain. Well, you and that girl you and your brother run around with.

“Great. Yeah, that sounds like Gordon.”

“But, as it turns out...I'm on a mission from God.” Kubrik didn’t give Sam the chance to answer before he struck him hard across the face.

A while into Sam’s beating, he had passed out again. He was unsure of who did it, but one of the two men threw water in his face to wake him. 

Sam’s face was bruised and his nose was bloody. He shook off the water while the two men’s eyes sat fixated on him. Exhausted, Sam sighed.

“You were a part of that demon plan to open the gate weren't you?” Kubrik asked firmly but in a calm tone. “You and Riley.”

“We did everything we could to stop it!” Sam told him in exasperation.

“Lie lie lie! You both were in on it. You know what their next move is too, don't you?”

“No, I don't, okay? You're wrong about all of this.”

The blonde captor got right in his face. “Where are they gonna hit us next?” 

Exhaling, Sam stayed silent before he’s struck again. 

“Where?! Gordon told me about you, Sam--about your powers. You're some kinda weirdo psychic freak?”

“No, not anymore. I--no powers, no visions, nothing, it just--”

“Liar!” Kubrik’s fist flew into the hunter’s face with rage. “Where’s Riley?”

Sam remained unmoved and stared him down. “I don’t know.”

“We want you dead,” he hissed. “But she’s top priority. Everyone knows she’s the freakiest one of you all. It’s going to be a real pleasure watching the life fade from her evil eyes. Now, no more lies. There's an army of demons out there pushing at a world already on the brink. We're on deck for the endgame here, right? So, maybe, just maybe you can understand...” Kubrik drew his gun and pointed it at Sam. “...why we can't take chances.

“Whoa, okay, okay, no, don’t--hold on a minute!”

Realizing things had escalated, Creedy tried to intervene. “Hey, Kubrick just--”

“No,” his partner snapped back as he turned to him. “You saw what happened, Creedy. Ask yourself, why are we here? Because we saw a picture of them at Biggerson’s on the web? Because we chose the exact same motel they did? Luck like that doesn't just happen.”

“Look, I can explain all of that if--” Sam uttered from behind them.

“Shut up!” Kubrik didn’t even look at him, but pointed at him sternly as Sam sighed. “It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do his work. This...is destiny.” 

He aimed the gun point blank to Sam’s forehead. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam braced for the fire. 

The sound of two other guns being cocked was heard from behind the captors and they spun to look.

There stood Riley and Dean, both with their weapons drawn and ready. 

“Nope. No destiny. Just a rabbit's foot,” Dean told them.

“Put the guns down, kids or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall.”

Riley clicked her tongue and shrugged. “Honey, looks like they don’t know.” She turned back to the two men with a smirk. “It’s his lucky day.”

They both put their guns down on the table next to them and Dean picked up a pen beside it. “When you’re right, you’re right, sweetheart.” 

The Winchester tossed the pen toward Kubrik and it lodged itself in the barrel of his gun. Dean and Riley both laughed with excitement. “Ha ha! Did you see that shot?!” 

Dean calmly blocked Riley as Creedy lunged at them with a ready punch. The older brother side-stepped with her behind him and Creedy ran straight into the wall, falling backward and hitting the floor. 

Kubrik stared at the pen in the barrel for a few moments in shock before trying to dislodge it. 

“I'm amazing.” Dean picked up the TV remote from the table and threw it hard at Kubrik just as he was about to aim for the hunters. It hit the madman right between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

Kubrik’s eyes nearly crossed before he dropped like a stone. 

Dean’s brow arched and his lip curled. “I'm Batman,” he said in a dark, husky voice.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed with sarcasm. “You're Batman.”

Stepping up to his side, Riley smiled at the men on the ground with pride before looking up at Dean. Her eyes went hungry and a mischievous look grew on her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Mm. I always had a thing for the Dark Knight.”

“Oh, really?” he smirked before dipping down to kiss her.

Sam scoffed from across the room. “Uh--if you two could untie me before you start your porno--that would be great.”

------

The cemetery was dark and quiet that night as the crickets nearby sang their lullabies. Sam crouched and sprinkled something over the embers of a small fire. Dean was checking over more scratch cards as Riley packed up their supplies.

“Alright.” Sam stood and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper--that should do it.” Noticing Dean still abusing the luck of the foot, Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, man.”

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I'm bringing home the bacon.” Dean smirked and stashed the cards in his jacket, which was slung over a headstone. “Alright, say goodbye ‘wascawy wabbit’.” 

The sound of a gun cocking came from behind them and they all slowly turned around. There stood Richard, still dressed to the nines with a beautiful handgun pointed at them.

“I think you'll find that belongs to me. Put the foot down.”

Riley practically stomped her foot in frustration. “Dammit, Richard. Why? Why are you the way you are?”

“Oh, darling. You love the way I am.”

Dean’s face cringed at Richard’s words, but he pulled himself together. Using the same tactic he did with the thieves, Dean played it cool as he calmed his tone. “No. You're not going to shoot anybody. See I happen to be able to read people. Okay, you're a thief, fine, but you're not--” 

Ignoring Dean completely, Richard aimed at Sam and fired. The bullet hit him in the shoulder and he went down, groaning while the others practically gasped in shock. 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled ready to charge.

Lewis pointed his gun more firmly at the older brother. “Back off, Winchester. You make one more move and I'll pull the trigger.” 

Sam stood up as Riley helped him to his feet. He clutched his shoulder and winced.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don't just go around shooting people like that!” Dean yelled.

“You've got the luck, Dean. You, I can't hit. But, your brother? Him I can't miss. But don’t worry, I won’t be shooting our Ms. Munroe.”

“Bite me,” Riley snapped.

“Everyone relax. It's a shoulder hit--I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

Dean put up his hands in surrender. “Alright! Alright. Take it easy.” As he went to drop the rabbit’s foot, he quickly turned and threw it to Richard. “Think fast.”

The unwelcome thief caught the foot and cursed under his breath, “goddammit.”

Linking her arm with Dean’s and beaming with pride, Riley turned to Richard with a satisfied look. “So, you good with us destroying that piece of carcass now?”

Richard sighed, deeply annoyed, and dropped the foot into the embers. “Thanks very much. I'm out one and a half million and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.”

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that,” Dean snarked. He then looked at his partners. “Guys?”

With his eyes locked on Lewis, Sam seethed. “Nope. Not even a little.”

As Richard turned to go, he stopped and leaned onto the tall gravestone over Dean’s jacket. “Hmm. Maybe next time I'll hang you out to dry. Riley, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He nodded in her direction suggestively and Dean’s fists clenched.

“Always a pleasure, Richard,” Riley said with pure sarcasm.

Dean yelled out to him as he walked away. “Yeah, later, Dick!”

The three slowly made their way across the graveyard. Sam was still holding onto his fresh wound and Riley kept turning to check on him. 

He laughed at her continuous glance. “I’m fine, Rye.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately, I can feel some of that pain in my shoulder too. God,” she groaned. “Being an empath fucking sucks.”

Dean smirked at her remark. “I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. Oh!” He went to dig through his pocket with excitement. “I forgot we're up $46,000. I almost forgot about the…” Dean's voice trailed off as he realized his winnings were gone. “...scratch tickets.”

The loud engine of a car on the road nearby roared through the silence. A slick sports car honked its horn as it drove off. 

Sam, Dean, and Riley looked at each other in disbelief.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean screamed and stomped his foot. Both Sam and Riley chuckled to themselves and Dean’s palm slid down his face. “I hate that douchebag.”

“Well…” Riley stood under his gaze until her fluttering lashes caught his attention. Her hand barely tickled Dean’s as she traced her fingers over his skin of his hand. She stood up on her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “you won’t need a rabbit’s foot to get lucky.”

Dean looked surprised and excited all at once. 

With a scoff, Sam turned to keep walking. He shook his head as he yelled out to them, “I don’t even wanna know!”

------

S3 Chapter 4: Bedtime Stories

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[killeret-and-the-void]

Former Sidestep, Riley Arcade

Now, super villain: Collateral Damage.

Appearance: His suit is ambiguous by design, easily lost in shadow and relying heavily on reflecting his opponents back at themselves. The visor itself acts as a one-way mirror, shaped like a triangle resting on one of its points. On the sides of the helmet toward the back there are two other shaped protrusions that make him resemble a chastised or otherwise scared animal or dog with their ears pinned back and down - this is for two reasons. One, the ‘frightened animal’ look in of itself could give him the edge of others underestimating him, and two, when paired with the mirror, his opponent will see themselves as the animal with their ears pinned so sadly back. It’s a form of soundless mocking. The are other shapes and elongations on other places of the armor as well, such as from the elbows, all to make him look more alien than human. Being human never did him any good in the past, so why make this new second skin of his anything but extraordinary? As for extra features, he requested the extra resistance to damage, and the telepathy boosters, because sometimes the best offense is a bit of defense... or at least that’s what he tells himself. Also there’s no cape (have we learned nothing from The Incredibles?).

The Name: Playing the role of a hero, he was eventually marked as dead, and easily forgotten; a victim. And for what? An organization where only one person took him seriously? He knew he was just collateral damage for the Rangers. And now he’s putting a positive connotation to the phrase because others get to feel the same way he has now for years.

Despite the name, however, he doesn’t go out of his way to put civilians in danger. He won’t go out of his way to ensure their safety, though, either. As such, his assault on the museum’s opening gala resulted in many injuries, but no casualties.

Goals: Ultimately, he wants to make a name for himself. He wants revenge against the people he feels betrayed him and made him feel unimportant. He wants to be loud, but strategic. But most importantly he wants to expel the truth of what playing the hero did to him; leaving him with irreparable scars and a tanked self esteem all for what feel like nothing.

But what about Riley himself? (Well he’s hiding under a read more. He’s safer there.)

Riley’s a bitter, bitter individual. Years of slowly working on his plan to recreate himself as the newest fearsome villain on the scene, all the while keeping completely to himself and being a nameless face in the crowd, truly did nothing to help his growing isolationism. It made him curt, socially unaware, and lonely. 

But it did help him hone in his telepathy, finding it to be his biggest ally in such a dilapidated state. It became so much easier to step out of his own hated body and adapt to the strengths and weaknesses of others, no matter their state or occupation. And along with his skills of the mind, he kept up with the latest tech and imagined what he could do and the life he could live if he just had unlimited resources.

With his mind frequently stuck in the past, he relives his trauma nearly every night and it exhausts him. But it also gives him a hell of a push to better himself. To be the person that ‘Sidestep’ couldn’t.

To be ambitious, to be meaningful, to have an achievable goal that wasn’t ‘Let’s see what civilian needs protection today’. Someone who wasn’t caught in the shadow cast by people who wouldn’t think twice about him.

But even all the most well thought out plans can have a roadblock, and Riley’s roadblock had a name: Ricardo Ortega.

Ortega, the hero, the perfect one, the former.... well, boyfriend probably wouldn’t be the word, but something close. The one he wanted to direct the brunt of his anger against but found that he couldn’t. Especially when he accidentally waltzed back into Riley’s life. With his annoyingly caring attitude.

As Collateral Damage, he treats ‘Charge’ like any other hero: an obstacle. But without the suit, Riley just becomes a conflicted mess, trapped between the parts of his past that weren’t horrible, and the knowledge that if Ortega knew what he’d become, he’d probably be disgusted. And he wants to think that it’d be a good thing, to see him as just another former friend and betrayer, but if that were the case, then why would the thought fill him with dread as it does?

So he’s stuck in a middle ground of simultaneously keeping him at an arm’s length, while also craving their old banter and the way they used to look at each other. He’d just as soon get into a yelling match with him as well as hug him mere minutes later.

And when one relationship is that complicated, it’s a no-brainer that all others must stay simple, or perhaps one might, quite frankly, implode. And that’s where Riley’s pawns come in.

Jane is the definition of Jane Doe, seen by Riley as merely a chess piece on a big board of moving pieces. Her purpose was never to be an extension of himself, and therefore any relation she has is primarily just for Riley’s eventual gain. A curious close, but strictly-business connection with Dr. Mortum, flirting with Ortega purely as a means for easy access to the gala, etc.

That being said, Jane is far from expendable, and Riley takes great caution with her safety. To keep an essential part of his plan, of course, but also (unadmittedly) because he loves the freedom of being anyone else. It’s a rush to be this attractive, charismatic woman and the play the part of someone much more assured of herself.

Unfortunately, with this new self esteemed granted by playing the part of Jane, he stumbled onto caring about another associate, who proved herself worthy of earning the title of his first henchman.

Rosie was an obvious first choice. Working together with her against the Psychopathor proved her worth, and her kindness towards Jane only bolstered her competence in Riley’s eyes. He would go as far as to say she was his first friend he’d had since his life turned to Hell - even if she’s totally unaware of his existence or the fact that they’ve met in more ways than one. But despite this, he has a strict plan to keep her, like many others, at an arm’s length away.

Of course, all plans have a habit of going to shit, but it won’t stop him from trying.

Any other interactions he’s had are more regrettable. Seeing Steel again opened up old wounds and a feeling of worthlessness, as he blames a lot of his lacking self-worth on the fact that the current marshal never even once pretended to trust him or believe in him; Herald is loved for the most obnoxious and enraging reasons (Riley loved pulling him down out of the clouds, where he seems to like to keep his head); and Lady Argent has proved to be a major thorn in his side - a fascinating and exciting one to goad, but a thorn nonetheless.

And that leaves him all with what, exactly?

The thrill of being Collateral Damage, a villain with a score to settle against the Rangers. It makes him a telepath who uses his powers to embezzle the rich and steal from their flashy, sad excuses for a ‘charity’ in which they merely show off their wealth. It makes him, himself, wealthy, and willing to use these resources to pay his growing villain circle handsomely and tinker with new advanced tech. 

It made him determined to never be a victim ever again. Not like Sidestep was.

The journey to get to that point had its hardships, however, as evidenced in the scars across his back and down his left arm, courtesy of a foolhardy one-man scuffle against a re-gene, and the dark bags under his eyes from sleepless nights.

But underneath all of that, and no many how many personas he creates, he’s still Riley. Androgynous, with a preference for lazy, baggy clothes, and a perfect unassuming face to blend into a sea of people. His earliest feeble attempt to separate himself from Sidestep and the trauma at the Farm (the half-assed dying of his hair from his natural blond to black) remained a constant, still never quite following through with dying his eyebrows, leaving them a couple shades lighter. He still has feelings for an old flame, no matter how much of a conflict of interest it is. And maybe he has a long way to go before he can balance his own identity with that of his puppet, and his public villain face....

But as far as he’s concerned? The sky isn’t even the limit anymore.

Bonus:

I figured this ‘profile’ of sorts would be naked without the Stats™. A snapshot of where he’s at at the end of Rebirth. 

(Why are those so big, Tumblr? Why?)

But fun fact, his blue vs. orange stats were more or less swapped before he made his debut as a villain. I’d like to think he was way more careless and destructive as he felt he had nothing to lose! But now he could lose everything he’s worked for so he’s toned down. At least a little.

[texanredrose]

Dishonored - Ch 2

Chapter 2: Roots in the Den

The beeping of her alarm roused Winter, despite being in the other room. After finding the report she’d sought, she’d hardly made it back to her quarters before exhaustion took the remainder of her strength.

Two hours before sunrise, she sat up in the chair she’d collapsed into, stretching her arms above her head. The glass she’d filled with burning amber liquid the night before sat next to the report, half empty.

Silently, she reached over and opened it, confirming that she hadn’t suffered some manner of fever dream that strung together fictional events. No, every word she’d read stood out against the faded, crinkled paper, so she closed it and set it aside, eyeing the glass for a moment. Although she wouldn’t usually start the day in such disarray, she also felt like she absolutely needed the bracing bite to fully rouse her.

Ultimately, she pushed it away and went to her bedroom, shutting off her alarm and pulling out a fresh uniform for the day. She would need her wits about her fully if she wished to confront her prisoner.

Winter couldn’t be sure if the answered she sought… would be the ones she wanted to hear.

Before heading to her office, she stopped by the interface in her living room to read the notes sent to her overnight. Among them, she noted the two-two-sixth had rolled out to link up with their squad and a notification that a secured message arrived via the only operable line they kept open during the blackout.

On top of dealing with the contraband issue and her prisoner, she’d need to personally call to Atlas Command and explain herself to one of the Generals.

Sending a message to her staff officers, she informed them that she expected a pot of coffee in her office by the time she arrived.

It would be a long day.

Ruby sat against the wall, humming softly to herself a tune she’d learned sometime when she was young. She couldn’t remember where she’d heard it from but Yang always smiled whenever she started it up and sometimes even joined in, even when things looked dire. Like that time they were both pinned down by Atlesian soldiers- no ammo, steep odds, and no chances of getting any back up. They’d gotten clever that time, and perhaps a bit lucky, but they’d made it out with only a few new scars.

It just… gave her hope, even when she probably shouldn’t have any.

She could tell by the movements of the soldiers outside that it was close to daybreak. Usually, everyone on the base would be awake about an hour before, scuttling to wherever they needed to be in time for the morning call-to-arms, and then in full swing by the time the sun started its climb through the sky.

But there seemed a bit more going on than the previous morning. The guards moved around a little erratically, as if startled by something.

Then the door opened and she supposed that explained everything well enough.

The Colonel walked stiffly, as if she’d been injured or just slept wrong, the tightness in her neck probably from stress. Though, the pinched expression might also be from finding out the nighttime guards weren’t as attentive to their duties as their daytime counterparts. She held a few papers in her hand that looked weathered, old, and recently leafed through.

Ah, she thought, schooling her expression into one of mild curiosity. A clever soldier indeed.

“Summer Rose,” she said, those blue eyes staring down at her, looking for any sign.

Ruby thought it would work to her advantage, so she indulged her. “My mother. I’ve heard a lot of stories about her over the years.”

“Including how she died, I assume.” The Colonel indicated the report. “What’s your version of the tale?”

“Interesting word choice.” She met the woman’s gaze. “You’re already implying that what I’m about to say isn’t the truth.”

“What you’ve been told is likely an embellishment.” She indicated the papers. “Between your version and this, I will find the truth.”

“Do you really think that’s the most important thing I have to offer?” A nonchalant shrug, a bait to hurry up with the interrogation process, but she continued regardless. “Alright, I’ll tell you. Mom and Dad lived in a little cottage on Patch. It’s an island just off the coast of Vale.”

“I know where it is.” Her eyes narrowed. “The population there was small, the economy was geared towards fishing, most people inherited their occupations from their parents- it’s a blip but one I’m familiar with. Atlas Command had the people there relocated a decade ago.”

“You should be a tour guide.” Ruby smirked, noting the brief flicker of annoyance in the woman’s face. “Back then, before the ‘relocation’, it was just the four of us. Mom, Dad, my sister, and me, and the thing about small, tight knight communities is that you can’t really take someone away from it without leaving an impact. Trades are passed down- remove the people who know that trade, and you’ve left the community lacking a basic element. That’s what the relocation order was doing to Patch, trying to tear it apart. First, they took the Faunus, forcing them to move to Menagerie. Mom stood up to the Atlesian soldiers doing it and they killed her for it. So Dad took us and tried to come here, to Mistral. Eventually, the Atlesian military got their way and took a third of the island’s population, then stationed their own soldiers there.”

“Soldiers who didn’t take up the trades vacated by those relocated- or on the run. I suppose that’s where you’re going with this.”

“Well, that, and they continued using resources. Less people fishing but more people eating the fish- it’s not exactly a sustainable model.”

The Colonel hummed. “The infrastructure collapsed on itself, leading to the relocation of Patch’s remaining population. I suppose I could believe that.” Her head tilted. “But it doesn’t explain how your father died yet you survived.”

“My sister did too. We’re kids from an island; we knew how to swim before we could walk.” She couldn’t recall the details herself- just a bit too young- but Yang told her the story when she was old enough. Usually while yelling, because she’d been holding onto the anger for years and needed to let it out, but Ruby could be a bit calmer, even if it hurt. “Dad stayed with the boat, drew the soldiers chasing us away so we could swim to shore.”

“Two children alone in a strange land.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That was almost twenty years ago. How did you survive?”

Now, she had to get creative. “We were taken in by a village. They raised us for a while, until the Atlesian patrols became stricter. After that, we wandered, until we decided we’d had enough. Atlas took everything from us- Mom, Dad, our home. All we have left is each other.” A pause and she chuckled; even if the this part of the story wasn’t strictly what happened, it did hold a bit of truth in it all the same. “Well, I guess, that’s out now. Once she finds out where you’re holding me… there won’t be any stopping her.”

“I’m not sure if I believe that.” Now the Colonel seemed to be gaining confidence, convinced she’d ferreted out a lie. “Your sister’s dead. Else, she would’ve been here by now.”

“She might not be the poster child for patience, but she knows how to bide her time. I know she’s out there.” Another shrug. “It’s a sister thing; you wouldn’t understand it.”

“I have siblings. A sister and a brother.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger, both of them.”

“Are you sure they’re safe?”

The Colonel immediately bristled. “You’re in no position to be making threats. And if any of your ilk come anywhere near them, I will personally skin each and every one of you alive.”

“Oh, but how could you use us against our friends and family then?” Ruby shot back, noting the dark cloud that seemed to settle over the woman. “Since we’re playing the game of fact or fiction, I’m curious- did you really use the reanimated corpses of fallen rebels to fight their former friends in Azulen?”

“I don’t use reanimated corpses.” She forced out through gritted teeth, the hand holding the report clenching hard enough to crinkle the papers.

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”

And then something happened- something Ruby could hardly explain, even as it unfolded before her very eyes. White light erupted around the woman’s left hand as she held it out, towards a spot between the two of them. A symbol of some sort- like an intricate snowflake- appeared, a mirrored copy three times the size reflecting on the floor. The glyphs began to spin as light filled the center of the larger one, growing bigger and taking shape, until a life sized white Beowolf appeared, with bright blue markings across its muzzle.

The beast regarded her with cool, blue eyes, before turning its head and dropping down to all fours, nuzzling into the Colonel’s hand.

“I can summon any foe I’ve dispatched,” she said, paying the Beowolf little mind, and it seemed rather content with that. “But I don’t desecrate the dead.”

“Well… that’s a first, for an Atlesian.” Ruby watched the creature, having fought more than her fair share of Beowolves, but finding none of the aggressive posture in this one. Usually, Grimm hunted with a single minded purpose- to find the source of negative emotions and elicit even more, that they might feed. Killing came secondary, and usually the result of a young Grimm trying to get more out of its meal and unintentionally destroying the source. The Alphas and older ones, no, they didn’t often kill, unless it could be used against witnesses… sometimes, she thought the Atlesian military took more after the Grimm than anything else. “Having a pet like that trailing you during battle would probably help.”

“Age, training, and discipline have honed my abilities. They call me the ‘Wolf of Azulen’ because I summoned six score of these and saved the unit stationed there from an embarrassing rout.”

“You must have quite the catalogue of dead enemies to pick from, then.” She shifted her gaze. “But I can promise you this; using me against my sister won’t work as any sort of advantage for you. She’ll be able to tell it isn’t me and it’ll just piss her off worse.” A smirk lifted her lips. “Maybe that ‘embarrassing rout’ will come around anyway. You might want to get used to the idea that your name will go down in history as the one who lost Mistral to one seriously ticked off big sis.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” And then, briefly, she could see something akin to fear in the woman’s eyes.

“You’re arrogant, underestimating-”

“No.” A bit of force in the woman’s voice, a crack in the armor. “I wouldn’t ‘use’ you against your sister.”

Ruby couldn’t help but be surprised at that. “An Atlesian not pressing an advantage? That’s unheard of.”

“You shouldn’t make light of what you don’t understand. I’ve made the mistake already and I won’t do it again.” The Colonel turned sharply, leaving the summoned Beowolf behind. “Enjoy your new company.”

As the door slammed closed, she frowned, watching the creature as steadily as it watched her.

While she’d probably managed to achieve her goal in unsettling the woman, now Ruby wondered if, perhaps, there were certain lines not even the Colonel would cross. The plan would work fine under the assumption that the woman could achieve her goals no matter the cost, but if she held some manner of standards, that would throw a wrench into everything.

Which made the impending arrival of the interrogation squad all the more troubling.

Winter sat at her desk, a cup of coffee off to the side and the report she’d carried around that morning tossed into a nearby chair. Although she didn’t particularly like the task before her, she really had no choice in the matter. Reaching over, she hit one of the buttons.

“Sergeant Forecastle.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I’ll utilizing the secured line,” she said, a frown on her lips. “See to it I’m not disturbed.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

With that out of the way, she pulled up the secured line and punched in the proper code.

Now, if her call could go unanswered, that would be splendid, but she didn’t seem to have that sort of luck.

But she did have just enough as a familiar face filled the screen. “Colonel Schnee. It’s been too long.”

“General Ironwood,” she replied, trying to force a smile. “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“You shouldn’t equate contacting Atlas Command with being reprimanded, Winter.” He favored her with a smile of his own. As her mentor, he’d always held a bit of a soft spot for her, and she could honestly call the man a better role model than her father ever could be. However, he was her superior first and foremost. “Though, we are curious about the current blackout. You’ve yet to file a justification.”

“I wanted to be sure I have something before troubling Command with it, Sir.” Winter shifted slightly in her seat. “Considering the current state of Remnant, throwing about accusations or making unchecked claims seems… reckless, at best.”

“I remember there was a time when you were exactly that sort of reckless.” The General clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them. “I trust you’ve made headway in verifying whatever it is that prompted the blackout? Or are you waiting for the interrogation team to arrive?”

She’d almost forgotten about that. “I’d like them to verify my results, Sir. Their methods might prove… more illuminating.”

“I trust your judgment.” He looked away and sighed. “However, I’m afraid I’ll need something- vague as it may be- to provide the other Generals. As you’ve said, these are turbulent times, and losing contact with one of our most solid strongholds is more than a little concerning. They won’t accept mere assurances.”

Winter nodded, buying herself a moment to make her decision. “I believe I’ve uncovered the methods by which the resistance here in Mistral is growing. Their motivations and the particular events they’re utilizing to gather more support to their cause. I also believe it’s possible to dismantle their rhetoric, but I’ll need more time for that.”

General Ironwood raised a brow, slightly taken aback by her words. “While I’m genuinely intrigued by how you came by that information I’m not sure if it’s a worthwhile investment of your time.”

“Why not?” Her brows furrowed. “If we can stop the resistance from recruiting new members, it simply becomes a matter of routing the remainder.”

“I don’t discredit the logic, Winter; I simply mean that I don’t think it’ll have the effect you’re hoping for.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “As long as Atlas has ruled, there have been groups trying to undermine the security we provide Remnant. The problem is that you can’t combat illogical ideations with logic. Rebels and the like will crop up, no matter how you trample and remove their excuses to do so.”

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that’s an accurate assessment.” Her gaze briefly deviated to the report. “I believe with some adjustments to policy, we could very easily dissuade a large number of people from supporting or joining the forces acting against us.”

“Every policy we have is justified; there’s simply no pleasing everyone.”

“Sir, have you read through the census reports from Mistral over the past five years?” She had, several times, both to try and nail down where the missing children of Taiyang Xiao Long might’ve turned up, and then looking into it further when she began to notice a trend. How she hadn’t seen it before boggled her mind. “The local population of Mistrali is beginning to give way to Atlesians and those of mixed heritage. The vast majority of locals are either joining the resistance or suspected of doing so and being executed.”

“Then it sounds like the problem will take care of itself in another generation or so.”

Winter’s mouth opened but no sound came out as she blinked, turning that sentence over in her head a few times. “Sir… what you’re suggesting is practically genocide.”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate way of looking at it.” He shook his head. “We are just as much part of Remnant as they are; as long as we remain to stand strong, Atlas- and, by consequence, all of Remnant- will continue to march forward, and we’ll drag the territories kicking and screaming with us, no matter how they protest.” A sigh left his lips as he reached up, massaging his temple, just shy of the grey streaks running through otherwise midnight black hair. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure, Winter. Being the commanding officer for a territory is a difficult step in your career, but right now, you need to focus on executing the missions Atlas Command puts before you. Deal with the resistance when they present a problem and put them down, but don’t try to understand them. You’re simply wasting your time.”

For a moment, she just stared at the screen. “Of course, Sir. There… is the matter of a possible traitor on my base.”

His brows furrowed. “That’s a serious claim to make. No Atlesian would dare defy Atlas Command.”

‘And expect to live’ she mentally tacked on, though outwardly she only offered a nod. “I’m not entirely sure where the source of the leak is coming from, but I’ve reason to believe someone is… attempting to undermine our position here, and using our own soldiers to do it. I’m sure the interrogation squad will be able to hunt down the source of this… troublesome flow.”

“Yes, good, see that you put your efforts to solving that immediately. We don’t tolerate spies in our ranks, Colonel.” He sat back. “Finding the leak is a much higher priority than concerning yourself with the cause of the resistance. The interrogation squad will be arriving this afternoon; they’ll be able to assist you in this matter.”

“Yes, Sir. I will lift the blackout and make a full report to Atlas Command as soon as there’s proof of my concerns.”

“Good. Take care, Winter.”

“You as well, Sir.” She ended the call and sat back in her chair, sighing heavily. In the back of her mind, she could feel the connection with her summoned Beowolf- anxious, bored, never a fan of tight spaces. Rose didn’t seem to be provoking it.

However, she needed to provoke her prisoner a bit more.

The only thought Ruby really had during the hours between when the guards reluctantly brought her breakfast and when the Colonel returned was that she hoped beyond hope that Ilia didn’t try returning any time soon. Although the beast didn’t breath or move like a living creature would, it reacted to movement and sound, looking at the guards when they came, following their movements even through the wall, snapping its attention to Ruby whenever she shifted. It could be unnerving, at the least, but she couldn’t tell if it had the capacity to recognize friend from foe.

But then it started… pacing would be the only way to describe it. Restless, moving around the cell in a pattern that seemed to speed up with every pass, and she couldn’t rightly tell what caused it.

Until the Colonel burst into the room, somehow even more stressed than when she’d left. “What’s your plan?”

“Well, I was going to read a book and order a pizza for lunch,” she replied sarcastically, lifting up the chains still binding her wrists. Better to feign ignorance than give away that she had a plan at all. “But I’m tied up at the moment, so-”

“Spare me your smart remarks.” Whatever had gotten under the woman’s skin, it had dug deep, and the summon began gnashing its teeth as a reflection of her frustration. “If your resistance, by some miracle, manages to displace the Atlesian military presence here in Mistral, what then?”

Ah, so she hadn’t been found out yet. A little bit of relief suffused her being but now she stood at a crossroads. In the woman’s eyes, she could see how hard she searched for something, but couldn’t be certain what, or which response might tip the scales in her favor. Every day she sat in the cell she accomplished nothing for her allies and, without her there with the others, she worried what concern over her might encourage Yang to do. She needed to continue hitting the woman’s buttons, even if it meant playing the bloodthirsty rebel.

“What makes you think we’ll ‘displace’ you?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “We’re not interested in your relocation methods.”

“Then you seek blood.” In a flash of steel, the Colonel drew the sword at her side as the Beowolf growled. “There is no reasoning with you.”

“See?” She offered a smirk. “Your own methods seem harsh when they’re turned around on you, aren’t they?”

“The Atlesian military attempted to relocate-”

“Poorly attempted, and when that failed, they turned to executions; don’t split hairs with me about skipping the optional first step to your people’s two step plan.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “This is what I’m talking about. Everything you people do, you’ve already built in a justification by first being unreasonable and refusing to see it. Destroying entire communities because they didn’t suit Atlas’ needs.” Their eyes met, and she could sense that she was getting somewhere, pushing the woman, because the grip on her sword faltered just a bit. However, something told her that she wasn’t getting any closer to her goal, which presented a problem. “There were four kingdoms, now there’s five, but Atlas only sees itself as the rightful holder of that distinction. The rest? Second class citizens, or worse.”

“There’s no other way,” the Colonel said, the tip of her sword lowering until it almost touched the ground as her summon fell silent once more. “That’s how things have been and how they’ll stay. How do you possibly hope to change that?”

She’d have to switch tactics. At this rate, the woman seemed to be daring her to provide a reason to be taken seriously. So, she’d oblige.

“By fighting. Fighting with everything we’ve got, until we’ve pushed Atlas off Mistral’s shores and reclaimed the kingdom for the people born to it.” A sigh left her lips. “Then, the hard part starts.”

“If you’re trying to insult me-”

“For once, no, I’m not.” Ruby looked up at the ceiling. “Right now, we’re united. Everyone who is sick and tired of what Atlas has done to Mistral- we share a common enemy, but when we win, then that goes out the window. As it is, those of us who’ve earn the resistance’s trust will be seen as the leaders, and we might be able to hold onto that power long enough to set up some form of government. Mistral used to run on a system of city-states; we could bring that back.” Perhaps she’d let a bit too much of the truth out but, for some reason, she felt like it might actually be working in her favor. The Colonel listened intently, something she seemed to do whenever searching beneath what Ruby said, so perhaps she could be tricked into believing she’d uncovered something else. “But, if something happens to us- if the heads of the resistance somehow get taken out before we can rout Atlas- then the ones who step up to fill those spots might not hold the same ideals we do.”

When she lowered her gaze, she found blue eyes watching her, but they looked away as she paced the length of the room. “What I’m hearing is that killing you could very well destabilize the resistance now.”

“It might.” She held up a finger. “But there’s also my sister to consider. She might be mad enough to destroy every last Atlesian fortification on the continent but she’s not going to be able to use that anger to keep things stable after the fighting stops and I won’t be there to convince her when enough’s enough.” A short chuckle. “You’re banking on her getting her revenge and stopping but she’s the sort of person to run across the ocean and take the fight to Atlas Command herself, if it means avenging me.”

She only stretched the truth a little. Yang’s temper might be legendary but she could also be calm and level headed when the situation called for it. Yet, she also would be the sort of person to launch a one woman assault on Atlas Command. It was kinda where Ruby got the idea in the first place.

“That would be a suicide mission.” The Colonel seemed absolutely sure of that.

“At that point, she’s lost everything else. What more could she lose? What’s a life when everything that made it worth living’s been stripped away from you?” She nodded at the woman. “You say you’re a big sister. If one of your siblings was killed, what would you do? Hunt down the people responsible, even if it meant sacrificing your life in the process? Or sit here and send a card for the funeral?”

Then, she had the woman’s attention once more, her pacing halting as she threw a heated glare at Ruby. “I would never be that callous. They would have justice.”

“Good! Then, now, you’re getting it. You understand what lengths she’ll go through and how little she’ll care for the outcome.” Her voice took on a teasing lilt. “It’s only a matter of time before she comes here, looking for me.”

“What of the others?”

“What others?”

“Don’t play coy. The Fox, the Cat, the Dragon- there are other leaders. How many of you are there?”

Now, she had a chance. “The Dragon is my sister. The others aren’t in Mistral.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean they aren’t in Mistral?”

“Vacuon rebels engaged Atlesian troops in a full scale battle the day I was captured; a full platoon lost on your side. In Menagerie, the White Fang resurfaced after an extended dormancy period. And, if you haven’t heard from Vale yet, they’ve had a few mishaps at several of their trainyards, disrupting supply lines and putting several of their outposts at risk.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I think we’re the only ones who missed our mark. I’m sure Dragon will catch up, once she’s done destroying every building on this base.” She paused, hoping she’d counted the days right. “And, unless I miss my guess, this morning is going to be very eventful for the troops in Vale. Those near Forever Fall- they were doing a training exercise out there this week, right?” A smirk. “Guess there’s no better training than the real thing.”

“Are you implying that every rebel group working against the Atlas military is connected?” The barefaced confusion splayed across her expression- no one had tried connecting the dots? Really? She didn’t know if that spoke to how well they’d covered their tracks or Atlas’ arrogance. “How?”

“Sorry, Colonel.” She closed her eyes and leaned back. “I’m done talking to you.”

That should be more than enough reason for her to be turned over to the interrogation squad. Especially if she’d gotten the timing right.

“You little-” The Beowolf growled and lunged, but she remained calm and didn’t even open her eyes as it landed just in front of her. It didn’t touch her, though, and while she could feel it standing over her, the presence disappeared a moment later as the woman made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “Your mind might change once the interrogation squad arrives.”

“If you’re anything to go by, I have nothing to fear,” she replied, satisfied she’d prodded enough. With the return of the threat, she felt certain she’d tipped the scales back into her favor. Now all she had to do was force the woman’s hand. “Bring them in. At the end of the day, you won’t have anything to show for it.”

“We’ll see,” she replied, turning to exit again.

Left alone with the summon, Ruby wondered just how long she’d be left to sweat it out before the Colonel’s frustration rose too high. The pressure had to be pouring on from everything else happening around Remnant; Atlas Command kept too close of tabs on everyone under their thumb to allow for a period of silence to last. Eventually, someone had to break, and it couldn’t be her.

The door opened again, a full squad of Atlesian soldiers with riot shields and armor entering the room, regarding her like a threat while paying the summoned Beowolf no mind.

“On your feet,” one said, his voice gruff and obviously displeased. “Move.”

Well, so much for sweating it out, she thought wryly while complying with the order and mentally preparing herself for the trials ahead.

But twenty minutes later, she found herself in another detention cell just as devoid of anything remarkable as the first, and her cellmate of sorts had followed her during the move.

“What is that woman planning?” She watched the summon but received no answer, though it looked just as anxious as before, pacing the length of her cell mindlessly.

She had half a mind to join it.

Winter marched through the halls, sparing no one a glance as she made for her office. After instructing the guards on duty to move Rose to a new cell and not disclose the new location to anyone not guarding that particular section, she’d started for her desk. Not only did she need to make preparations to stall the interrogation team, she had to find a suitable distraction, and that wouldn’t be easy.

“Ma’am.” Sergeant Major Cirrus’ voice caught her attention, her brisk pace slowed so the man could catch up, accepting the scroll he handed her. “We finished questioning those found with contraband. They identified a few soldiers as the sources they bought the goods from.”

“All Atlesians, which we expected…” she slowed to a stop, reading over the information and drawing the connections- why the names seemed quasi familiar “... but isn’t that odd.”

“Erm… Ma’am?”

She pointed to the right hand side, where the soldiers’ units were displayed. “I find it strange, Sergeant Major, that all of these soldiers are recently returned from night patrols. Is that where they acquired the goods? And did they sell to multiple people to hide who their intended target was?”

“I… suppose that is peculiar.” He remained silent for a moment before lowering his voice. “Ma’am, permission to speak freely.”

“Granted.”

“Are you accusing one of our own of turning against us?”

The same, grave seriousness she heard in General Ironwood’s voice when she brought up the same idea. So, she opted to push a boundary, just to see the reaction. “I notice some of these soldiers aren’t born of Atlas. They have Atlesian blood but they’ve never been to the homeland, Sergeant Major.”

“Ah, that explains it.” He nodded, apparently accepting that conjecture without a second thought. “I can launch a full investigation into them immediately.”

“Investigate all of them,” she replied, handing the scroll back and not giving away the rolling in her stomach. “Let's not tip our hand.”

“Of course, Ma’am.” As he left, she reached back through her memories and opted to check his personnel file.

Because, if she recalled correctly, Sergeant Major Cirrus was born in the Mantle Mountain range, just beyond Atlas’ borders. Just as much a territory as Mistral, even if inducted into the fold earlier.

Winter shoved the thoughts from her mind, heading into her office after shouting to Sergeant Forecastle that she'd be on the secured line. Amid all the thoughts pinging around her head, something lurked and preyed on her mind more than the rest, setting her nerves on edge. Only one thing could assuage it.

When the line connected, she was greeted with her sister’s perplexed expression. “Winter? Or is it Colonel this time?”

Her eye twitched. “There’s no reason to be formal. This is a personal call.”

“It’s not my birthday.” Her eyes darted elsewhere. “And it’s not yours-”

“Weiss, please.” A sigh slipped past her lips as she ran a hand over her face. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I suppose. My assignment in Menagerie has been… somewhat eventful.” A quirk to her lips. “Knowing General Cotta, you already know what I mean.”

“I do.” Sitting forward, she folded her hands and tried to keep the restless energy at bay. “I just wanted to check on you. See… if everything’s going alright.”

Brows pinching together, her younger sister tilted her head slightly. “Winter, is something wrong? I know the report appears to be troubling but we’ve been vigilant. There’s no White Fang activity; it could’ve very easily been an elaborate prank.”

“You’re sure?” The certainty in Rose’s tone, the barest of hints in those silver eyes… Weiss might be an intelligence officer, but things sometimes slipped through the cracks. “You’ve sent out your scouting parties? Double checked the perimeters? Have you determined how those flags got hung in the first place?”

“Winter, slow down.” They, perhaps, weren’t as close as other siblings, not as tightly knit, but she recognized the thread of unease in Weiss’ voice, could hear it plain as day. “Of course we’re taking the threat seriously. The last thing we want is for another rebel group to disrupt our work.”

She sighed, looking away for a brief moment. “Our work… you refer to the mines.”

“The dust deposits are the reason we’re here.” Weiss recited the official line of Atlas Command- Vale and Vacuo to instill order, Mistral to provide protection, and Menagerie for the vital resources. A reason to continue their work across Remnant. Something to believe in, something good and necessary. “And they are still operating to full capacity.”

Winter pressed her lips into a thin line. “I suppose that’s good.”

“It’s exactly what Atlas Command asks of us.”

“Do you believe it’s right?”

Weiss blinked, apparently taken off guard by the question. “Is what right?”

“Our missions.” She sat forward, interlacing her fingers. “I’m here to protect the people of Mistral, yet my night patrols engage with more and more people every day- more and more ‘suspected’ resistance fighters who don’t survive the encounter. And I’m forced to ask myself: who am I protecting?” A pause. “Do you ever have thoughts like that?”

Her sister remained silent for a moment, and in her eyes a battle waged, before she hid everything behind a mask. “Of course not. It’s not our fault the people we’re attempting to serve and protect revolt against us. If they simply obeyed, you wouldn’t be pushed to such measures.”

“Indeed.” It should’ve assured her, should’ve calmed the storm of her mind just a little, but instead she just heard the same resolute belief she’d already experienced with the General and Sergeant Major. In her heart… she felt a keen sense of disappointment. “It’s that reminder that keeps me true to the course. But diligence alone won’t protect you, Weiss. You’re aware of that?”

“Of course. I plan on leaving no openings that could be exploited.” Weiss smiled, though it looked a touch forced. “I appreciate your concern, Winter, but I assure you. I will not fall victim to some foolish rebel.”

“Good.” She nodded. “If you are in need of reinforcements, remember that I always keep two rapid deployment units on standby along the south coast.”

“I’ll be sure to brief my command on the resources available to us.” She offered a small smile. “Goodbye.” Winter reached forward to disconnect the call but stopped short. “And… I love you. Even when you’re troubled by heavy thoughts.”

A soft smile curled her lips. “I love you, too. You make me very proud, Weiss. Take care.”

Ending the call, she sat back in her chair and sighed heavily, lifting her gaze to the ceiling.

“I’ve already made my decision, haven’t I?” Nothing answered her, of course, save for the sinking in her chest. Yet, she found herself reaching out to dial another number… and frowning when the line connected. “Whitley… where the hell are you?”

He feigned innocence. “What makes you ask?”

“The fact that it’s snowing and the only place you could possibly be at this time of years is up in the mountains, which I distinctly remember you not being stationed near at all.”

“Am I not allowed to take leave?” He pouted- outright pouted- while snowflakes clung to his hair.

“You were just on leave!” She began to massage her temple, frowning at the screen. “I remember having a long talk with General Ironwood and Colonel Gold over how much leave you’ve taken, in fact.”

“Okay, so, maybe this isn’t so much ‘leave’ as… I’m not going back.”

Winter breathed in deep and let it out slowly. “You… what?”

“The military isn’t for me,” he replied, ducking indoors somewhere- given the construction, it looked more like a house or shop than any military building. “You and Weiss are free to walk in Mother’s shadow but I’m rather tired of it all. We still run the mines up here in the mountains, so I thought I’d help Father with overseeing them.”

“So… you just… left.” Reports began flashing through her mind. How many people were hunted down for simply walking down the street too late at night? And her brother just… abandoned his post?

“They’ll hardly miss me.” Whitley shrugged, sitting down somewhere as a window with snow clinging to the pane framed him. “And I’m much happier freezing up in these mountains than I ever was out in those awful forests. Do you have any idea how many forests there are in Vale? The answer is too many.”

She drew a steadying breath. “You’re my brother, so I’m obligated to say I’m pleased that you’re enjoying yourself, but as an officer-”

“Who is not in my command and can’t do anything anyway?” He smiled at her then, smug. “Report me if you wish but it’ll do little good. I’m sure Mother’s already been informed, and if she hasn’t come to collect me herself, what outcome are you expecting?”

Her hands curled into fists. Her brother had a point. “I understand if you’re disinclined to continue your service but why not at least finish out your commitment first?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he replied, expression slowly falling. “I suppose it’s a feeling you can’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“None of you understand it- Mother, Weiss, all of you are good at the whole military thing.” He practically spat the last word, dragging a hand down his face. “I never wanted to join, but I didn’t have a choice in the matter, and now? It doesn’t matter how proficient I am. I could be the best soldier or the worst and my place wouldn’t change one bit.” Then, he gestured behind him. “But here? When I excel, I excel, and I’m rewarded appropriately.”

She had half a mind to accuse him of something so base at greed but the words caught in her throat. Laziness wouldn’t be tolerated at her level, of course, but the chances of Whitley ever reaching her rank ran slim, purely because she’d been born first. Just as she’d never reach General until Mother died or retired. It was one of many laws put into place to mitigate certain risks- no chance of professional jealousy if one’s rank was determined by fate- but she’d met her fair share of incompetent officers. And only Atlesians born in Atlas were considered qualified to reach beyond a certain rank anyway.

A method of control, to keep people in their place… to walk in the shadow of those who came before.

“You’re good at it, then?” She kept her voice even despite the tumultuous thoughts rolling through her mind. “Managing the mines?”

“So far, I’ve increased productivity by a fair margin. Father’s impressed.” He sighed. “I’m not sure if that’s very encouraging though. So far, all I’ve done is walk through the mines. Apparently, having a real Atlesian in the area is required for these lazy workers to actually do their jobs.”

Winter frowned. “Really? You haven’t threatened them in any way?”

“There’s no reason to; they know what awaits them if they fail to meet my expectations.”

That didn’t ease her concerns in the slightest. In fact, it just made some of Rose’s comments echo in the back of her mind. “Are you expectations at least reasonable?”

“Of course; I learned from you and Mother, after all.” That set her stomach rolling. She’d always maintained high standards, just as Mother had, but when they weren’t met… she’d always justified the punishments in her mind. However, what she would ask of soldiers and what she would ask of civilians differed and she didn’t believe for a second her brother understood that difference. “We’re on schedule to have these mines closed by the end of the year and the workforces moved to new prospects.”

Her brows pinched together. Admittedly, she’d never paid Father much mind when he talked about the mining business; dust provided an important asset to the military, yes, but they’d won many battles without it.“You’re going to relocate the workforce? Move entire cities?”

“Of course. We don’t need them here; we need them where the dust is.”

“And they’ve agreed to that?”

“Winter.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You act as if they have a choice.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I suppose that is rather foolish of me.”

He sat forward, looking genuinely concerned for the first time throughout the conversation. “You’re probably just stressed. It’s not like you’ve taken leave recently. You should look into it; get some time to clear your head.”

“I’ll consider it.” A sigh slipped past her lips; although not exactly the way she’d wanted to find out, she had the answer to the question she’d asked Weiss. “Try not to get into trouble, Whitley.”

A scoff. “Good luck to you, too, Winter.”

As the call ended, she passed a hand over her face and slumped in her chair. Checking in on her siblings… she didn’t do it as often as she should, true, but she’d always justified it with the knowledge that they understood the demands of her position. If they needed anything, they could easily call her- she’d never denied a message from them, no matter the form- and she would move mountains if necessary to help them out.

But they were all products of Atlas, of the military, and under the thumb of Atlas Command. For anyone of lesser status, abandoning one’s post would be grounds for a severe punishment. Yet, she understood rather well that Whitley would face no repercussions. Born of Atlas, for him to face any sort of consequence would first require something a bit more serious than dereliction of duty, especially if Mother waved a hand and had him ‘reassigned’ to some fictional position to cover his absence.

Confronted with this reality alongside the eagerness of Sergeant Major Cirrus to ferret out the non-Atlas born weak link and General Ironwood’s grave interest in a possible traitor, she found it nigh impossible to justify the clear classism. She couldn’t even explain the flippant way Whitley spoke of the mine workers, how they were expected to do as told, and she didn’t doubt they’d be killed for any failure to comply. They were likely working themselves to the bone not out of a previously held lack of effort on their part but simply motivated by the knowledge that Whitley could order any one of them killed for little to no reason and it would never be questioned.

Reaching over to the console, she typed out a message to Mother, informing her of the situation. Not that it would change anything- if it wasn’t swept under the rug already, it would be after this- but because it was what she would be expected to do, as both the eldest sibling and a higher ranking officer. Mother charged her with keeping tabs on Weiss and Whitley decades ago; remaining silent when she full well knew the woman would find out eventually would simply draw more suspicion to her.

And she didn’t need any more, even as she sent the message and dialed another number.

“Colonel Schnee.” A man answered, his expression twisted and face flushed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the time to track down your brother if he’s not answering his scroll.”

“I’ve already spoken with him, Colonel Gold,” she replied, frowning as the sounds of several voices droned on in the background, some panicked. “He’s abandoned his post; he’s up in the mountains overseeing our family mines.”

A small amount of relief washed over the man. “With respect, good. I don’t need his antics on top of everything else right now.”

“Anything I can assist with, Sir?”

“No, we’re already mobilizing a full brigade to go investigate.” That… was a lot of soldiers. “One of our units was training in Forever Fall when we lost contact with them. Their last communication indicated some manner of attack.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s probably some fool Valen’s idea of a prank. I’m sure it’s nothing but I don’t tolerate such blatant disregard for training protocol.”

She raised a brow, slightly confused. “Training protocol?”

“We sent an augmentation force with the unit to act as an opposing force- a bit of force on force training is good for morale, you know.” He waved a hand. “But knowing these blasted vermin, they cut the comm lines like an actual enemy would, and there’ll be hell to pay when I find out who had that bright idea.”

In that moment, Winter thought about warning him that it might not be a simple training mishap. That those soldiers might be marching into an ambush. “I’m… sure the culprit will be revealed when a fully armed brigade arrives looking for them.”

“Fully armed?” Colonel Gold scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not wasting time outfitting an entire brigade. They’re rolling out with the bare minimum; I need them there quickly to put an end to this fiasco.” A light chuckle. “Though I would rather like to see the looks on their faces when the brigade arrives.”

“Have you considered it might not be a training accident?”

All mirth fled him at that moment. “Listen here, Schnee. I understand Mistral and Vacuo has its share of rebel scum, but you’re seeing shadows where there are none. We pacified Vale years ago; there’s simply no way the local populace could stage anything close to an attack. Even then, they’re just Valens. We’ll simply burn whatever village they came from to the ground, if it comes to that, which it won’t.”

“My apologies, Sir,” she said. “Perhaps you’re right.”

He nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an augmentation force to reprimand.”

When the screen faded, Winter had to face a harsh truth.

She’d just willingly withheld vital information that could lead to the deaths of several Atlesian soldiers… and as conflicted as she felt about that, she rightly shouldn’t- it should’ve been the most clear cut decision, and she’d made the wrong one.

Yet… she found herself thinking about a little island village destroyed by Atlesian troops. The cost of that ‘pacification’. And the futility of it.

Standing, she walked around her desk, intending to visit Rose, but the moment she opened her office door, she was confronted with an unfamiliar sight.

“Ah, Colonel Schnee. Just who I wanted to see.” A shock of orange hair poked out from beneath a black bowler, green eyes that seemed a touch too friendly, and a white coat in the Atlesian style but lacking any rank identification, instead bearing a mark representing Atlas Command- someone she’d never met but could recognize instantly and her blood ran cold. “You are the one who requested an interrogation squad, right?”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Monsters”

Monsters are made, not born. Monsters forget they were once loved, nothing in their mind besides darkness and vengeance against the world. Monsters know no remorse, regret or sorrow. Monsters exist inside every person. And they will never disappear.

As soon as you enter the office with your three year old daughter, The Joker signals his henchmen to leave. After the last one exits and the door closes, he gives you a mean glare, definitely not excited about your presence.

“I thought I told you to stay away!” J sneers, tapping his fingers on the glass desk. “Why are you here, hm?” the annoyed tone makes you even more self-conscious about your situation.

“I…I need help…” you gather the courage to speak while Evie clings to your leg, scared by the strange looking man. You protectively hold her close to you with one hand, hoping she won’t start crying: that would certainly irritate The King of Gotham to the point of kicking you both out before you can explain yourself. “It’s not for me, it’s for my little girl,” you quickly add when The Joker rolls his eyes.

“Oh, you need money?” he sarcastically smirks but you know what that smile hides.

“My daughter is sick,” you inform, taking advantage of his momentary silence. “Her medications are very expensive; I work and my insurance covers some costs, but not everything. I only…” and you pause, gulping. “…I only have medications for one more week before she runs out and I don’t know what I’m going to do. Can you please help me? I’ll pay you back,” the desperate mother pleads.

“How? Are you gonna sell your body on the streets?” The Joker bluntly asks.

You really don’t want to be here; it’s so humiliating and you feel out of place.

“I’ll find a way,” you whisper, caressing Evie’s bald head.

The Joker at least realizes you’re not lying; your child does look sick: shaved head, scrawny and pale, wearing a yellow summer dress that accentuates her frail frame.

How would he know how many times you skip meals in order for your daughter to have enough to eat? Or how you struggle to pay the bills and rent, every month one step away from being homeless? How would he know how much you hate being here asking for money when it’s clear he won’t lift a finger to help? You are truly out of options, otherwise you would have gladly used another source.  

“Don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband to share the burden with?” J huffs, interrogating the hopeless parent. “Where’s her father?“

He sees the tears coming down your cheeks and your voice breaks when you answer:

“My husband…passed away… a while ago.”

“Well…” The Joker pretends to debate on the reply he received,” …one mouth less to feed, right?”

You sniffle, reaching for your daughter and lift her up in your arms: your only comfort after the cruel remark.

“Let’s go baby,” you kiss her forehead before she wraps her tiny arms around your neck.

Evie whimpers, staring at the plate full of cookies and strawberries on J’s desk.

“No sweetheart, that’s not ours. Mommy will get you something after we visit daddy at the cemetery, OK?” J hears as you rush out of his office, wondering how you’ll actually going to fulfil the promise since you have only 10 dollars left in your wallet for the rest of the week.

“Don’t let me catch you here again or you’ll regret it!” he shouts and you almost start running down the hallway, afraid he might retaliate.

The Clown Prince of Crime is not happy about your visit; he didn’t see you in years and planned to keep it that way until you showed up today, begging for a meeting; it was dumb to allow you to bother him. He should have told his men to chase you away.

J keeps on pacing around the office for minutes until finally deciding to go for a drive, the only thing that can calm him down at this point.

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

“Where to, sir?” Frost asks, adjusting the rearview mirror inside his boss’s favorite SUV, the reflection revealing a grouchy Joker in the back seat, definitely in a foul mood. J stretches his legs, indifferently muttering:

“Don’t care, just drive.”

“Yes sir,” Jonny turns left on Gentry Avenue while J glimpses at the busy Gotham from behind the tinted windows allowing him to enjoy freedom during day time also. The ride is smooth and there’s nothing The Clown Prince of Crime envoys more when he feels restless. Frost’s excellent driving makes J close his eyes for a few seconds, relaxing after the earlier unpleasant reunion with his past.

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

“Y/N…Y/N…” the little boy shakes you, crawling in bed by his older sister.

“What?…” you cover him with your blanket, yawning but not opening your eyes. “Did you have another nightmare?”

“Y-yes,” he whimpers, snuggling to you.

“Here,” you search under your pillow and pull out his favorite toy: a small blue car, the kind you find in cereal boxes. “This keeps the monsters away,” you give it to him and decide to open your eyes. “You forgot it here last night before going to bed, that’s why you had bad dreams.”

“Sissy,” your brother tugs on your hair, using the other to hold the toy to his chest.“When’s mommy coming back?”

“Mommy died, Damian; she’s not coming back,” you bite on your cheek, saddened when he starts sobbing.

“I want my mommy,” the 5 year old rubs his eyes, not understanding why his mother can’t return.

“Me too,” you hug him under the covers, crying because there is no one else to fill the emptiness she left behind; the children only have each other.

“I’m hungry,” Damian pouts after you managed to soothe him.

“We don’t have a lot of food,” you announce, making a mental inventory of what you’ve seen laying around the kitchen. “And daddy didn’t leave us any money.”

Your father would disappear for days, forcing a 12 year old and a 5 year old to fend for themselves. Luckily, your mom’s friend kept an eye on you, aware the two siblings were mostly abandoned in the cheap two bedroom apartment bellow hers.

“But I’m hungry,” your baby brother insists, on the verge of crying again.

His sister attempts to distract him.

“I’m jealous you have mommy’s eyes,” you caress his cheek, that clear blue gaze staring back at you.

“I do?!” Damian curiously scoots over in your arms like it’s the first time hearing the statement.

“Yes, the most beautiful eyes in the world,” and you tickle his sides while the young boy giggles, laughing up a storm under the attack. He tries to fight back without success until the growling tummy reminds him he’s famished.

“Y/N, I’m hungry,” your brother whines after you pinned him under your weight, wiggling to escape the temporary prison.

“Ok,” you sigh, releasing the captive since you don’t have another choice. “We’ll brush our teeth and then we’ll eat, alright?” “U-hum,” he smiles, jumping on the bed when you signal him for his favorite: piggyback ride.

“Come on,” you admonish the impatient kid that keeps on hopping on top of the pillows.” Hurry up!” and he finally obeys while you strain to walk with him dangling on your back. “You’re getting heavy,” you complain, heading towards the bathroom.

After the morning routine, you put together a measly breakfast: a little bit of milk and a handful of cereals in two bowls, adding water to multiply the already poor nutrition, but it’s better than nothing.

Damian gets more because you promised mom you’ll take care of him; the unfairness is striking: a child taking care of another child. Yet what choice a dying mother had but to teach her older daughter to tend to herself and the younger sibling the best way she could? Not too many willing to help or to raise someone else’s kids in a district already ravaged by poverty. Nobody cared, including their father.

You’re scarfing down your food, talking to the little boy:

“I’m gonna go and ask Auntie Jenna (your mom’s friend) if she can give me money so I can buy some stuff, OK?”

Your brother’s eyes lit with happiness, hoping he can eat more for dinner. Usually, lunch is skipped if possible, this way the supplies last longer.

“Really?”

“Yes, be good and behave while I’m gone. The grocery store is one hour away and I’ll have to walk there.”

“Can I come?” he smiles, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“No, just finish your breakfast. I’ll be fast,” you get up from your chair, already done snacking.

“OK,” he bounces his legs, anticipating the moment of your return.

Auntie Jenna was able to give you a few dollars, even if she barely had any money herself and a super excited Y/N bought a few basic groceries from the store, including a can of grape juice, which is your sibling’s favorite.

You run upstairs to let the woman know you’re back and she looks puzzled after opening the door.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?! I thought you went away with your dad and your brother.”

“Daddy was here?” the shaky voice inquires and the plastic bag is dropped on the floor by the weakened hands.

“Yes, he took Damian and a few things from the apartment …Hey, where are you going?” she yells when you start running towards your condo, panicking at the dreadful feeling creeping up in your heart.

“Damian?… Damian?…” you call out his name, searching around the small apartment and start crying when you realizes his clothes are gone from the closet, only yours left on the hangers.

“What’s going on?” Jenna follows you, stunned when it hits:

Did that piece of shit just abandoned his daughter here?

“Oh, no!” you gasp when you see the tiny blue car forgotten on the kitchen table. You snatch it and rush outside, running up the street without being able to see too much from the tears clouding your vision.

“Damian! Damian!” you scream and Jenna catches up with you, pulling on your arm in order to stop you.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she pants and the young girl shows her the toy that was left behind.

“Th-this is for the m-monsters,” you stutter and Jenna gets down on her knees, hugging a terrified little girl that can’t stop trembling in her embrace. “H-he gets scared at night…”

“Sssttt,” she slowly rocks you in her arms. “Don’t cry honey; we’ll find him, alright?”

In the meantime, your little brother’s whining aggravates an already drunk father driving the beat-up van he stole from the other side of town.

“Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!” he threatens the 5 year old fidgeting in the front seat by him.

“I want my sister!” Damian sniffles and turns his head towards the bitter parent. “Please daddy, I want my sister!” the boy pleads and the man slams the breaks, fed up with his son’s behavior. “I want my sister!!!!” the painful tone pierces the air and…

Frost suddenly stops the SUV when the car in front of it switches lanes without signaling.

The Joker opens his eyes, abruptly woken up from his dream.

“What the fuck?! “  a grumpy King of Gotham snarls, regaining his grasp on reality.

“Apologies, sir. Some idiots don’t know how to drive,” the trusted henchman patches up the mistake, a bit startled himself. The Joker continues to watch the city from inside the SUV, deep in thought.

“Frost,” he finally opens his mouth after minutes of quietness. “How much money do we have at the warehouse on McCormick Boulevard?”

“Ummm…” Jonny counts in his mind, trying to estimate as close as possible. “Maybe… about a million dollars.”

“I want it in a suitcase, ready to go by the time we arrive,” the order follows and Frost complies, already dialing Nikko’s cell number in order to convey the message.

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

Getting inside your place was a piece of cake for The Joker; the easiest lock to pick, flimsy and tacky just like the rest of the almost empty building. It’s all you can afford with the hardships you had to endure, one misfortune after the other, fighting to survive like you always did.

How you wish you could have offered your daughter a better life than you ever had! For a while, things were good because you had your husband and even if your baby got sick, the extra paycheck and health insurance were a tremendous help. There was no greater pain than to sink in the same deep hole of poverty after Kent died in a freak accident at work; not a lot of options but to try and make it somehow.

J cautiously enters the apartment, so small and crammed it gives out a claustrophobic vibe: a tiny kitchen with a table and two chairs, no other furniture around. The moldy smell almost makes The Joker sneeze as he opens the cracked door to the only bedroom not having enough space for more than a bed you share with Evie. He notices another door behind the bed, probably the bathroom.

You and your little girl are asleep, exhausted after walking to the cemetery and back home, not having enough money for a taxi.

The Joker quietly opens the fridge: not too much food in there, the pink wrapping surrounding the blueberry muffins you bought for Evie making him bite his lip. He’s very familiar with that color that marks bakery items about to be thrown away, sold at discounted prices a day before their expiration date. He yanks the sweet treats out of the shelf and stashes them in the garbage can, mad without knowing why: the truth is they remind him of things he doesn’t want to remember.

He closes the fridge, glaring at the pictures under the magnets: memories made with your husband and daughter, the ultrasound image from when you found out you were pregnant, the last card your husband gifted you for your birthday before he passed away, Evie’s drawings and an old photo of a 10 years old Y/N, tightly holding a 3 years old Damian in her arms like he was the most precious treasure on the planet.

And he really was.

A long time ago…

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

“What the hell is she doing here???!!!” The Joker shouts from behind the bars keeping the detainee confined inside the lower level of Arkham prison.

You look completely terrified, not having seen such violence and chaos in your entire existence.

His men came to get him out after he was captured six months ago during a very ambitious heist at the Wayne mansion: the guy was loaded and The Joker couldn’t stay away from such opportunity.

When you found the suitcase full of money on your kitchen table, you knew exactly who left it there, yet the note on top of it made it difficult to reconnect with the estranged relative:

Come near me again and you’re dead!

And still, here you are, risking your life to see J, aware this is the only chance you’ll ever get.

“Why is she here???!!” he growls while you seem frozen, petrified from what you have witnessed so far.

The goons are working to get their leader out, the electric saw already cutting through the thick bars.

“She paid for the extra mercenaries and insisted we take her with us,” one of them replies, commanding a large group of hired guns to swipe the premises and make sure the area is cleared for takeoff.

“She did what??!!” The Joker growls, approaching the bars and you gulp, jumping each time you hear an explosion. He gestures you to come closer and you drag your feet towards a pissed inmate. “Are you fucking stupid?!” J sneers, intensifying your anxiety.“Take her away before I strangle her myself!!!” the harsh sentence makes you snap out of trance and speak up:

“I…I wanted to thank you for…”

One of his people grabs your hand and you slap it, fighting to stay close to the bars.

“Get lost, Y/N, you don’t belong here! You have no idea what you’re doing!” J rests his forehead against the cold metal and he’s right: you have no idea what’s happening or how to handle these crazy events.

“For you, little brother,” you whisper, taking the tiny blue car out of your pocket and returning it to its owner after so many years. “To keep the monsters at bay,” you close his fist and he frowns, hissing:

“Your brother is dead!” “My brother is not dead,” you sadly smile through tears and kiss the tattooed knuckles wrapped around the toy before J can reject his sister’s affection.

He backs out, his men moments away from releasing him.

“Frost!!!!” The Joker yells when the latest emerges from the dark corridor. “I want her out of here! NOW!!!”

You know you won’t be able to fight his will and comply, following Jonny’s lead as he’s guiding you towards an escape route outside Block D.

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

Your daughter had a hard time getting used to her uncle, but after you two moved at the Penthouse, things slowly improved. She’s always amazed there is so much food around, brand new clothes and toys. Evie’s medications are expensive, but purchasing them is not an issue anymore; she even gained a little bit of weight and it makes you happy to see your child feeling better.

“Honey, you need to take your pills,” you walk out on the balcony where a playful little girl is having fun in her own inflatable pool.

“Ok mommy,” she gets out of the water and you lift her up, making sure to wipe the liquid on your way in with a towel: The Joker doesn’t like his carpets stained.

“You want some ice cream?”

Her eyes get big: the same clear blue as her uncle’s.

“Yes mommy,” she smacks her lips with anticipation and you bump into the glass coffee table, almost knocking down the center piece: an old photograph of a 10 years old Y/N and a 3 years old Joker, lovingly held by his sister.

He really was the most precious treasure to her.

A long time ago…

And he remembered.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[tickedpiggie]

Chapter One: Birthday Parties

         Jin stared into the mirror. There was something so off about his own reflection. He didn't look any different either. His broad shoulders were still prominent while his thin wrists were still pale. Jin poked at his crooked nose that had been broken many times in his adolescence. His face was still tan and the sun spots scattered along the bridge of his nose were still there and were still a few shades darker than his face. Jin poked at his hair, "It's still just as frizzy as it was yesterday," the young man leaned closer to the mirror that stood tall and proud against his wall. He bit his lower lip as his left eyebrow rose. Jin turned and quickly picked up a dark yellow t-shirt his friends had bought him for Father's Day last year. They were always so thankful to Jin for caring for each of them in their time of need. Jin smiled to himself as he slipped on the worn out shirt. His boxers hung loosely on his hip bones, just below the mole that rested against his left hip. There were small scars littered along his thin legs, gathering around his shins. He pulled thick, expensive brand name socks over his ankles before he struggled to pull on his too tight black skinny jeans.

` As Jin left his room, he grabbed his phone from the charger. 

     "We're all waiting for you at McDonald's," Jin read out loud from his notifications. A small boyish grin covered his usual emotionless face. As he slipped the cracked phone into his back pocket he checked his reflection once more. Jin twisted his loose curls that he could never tame. He huffed before giving up and quickly turning to open the door that lead to the rest of his empty apartment. Before he could touch the doorknob, Jin had clumsily slammed his toe into the small suitcase that made its home next to his mirror. The picture frame that held his favorite picture fell and broke into pieces as it hit the hardwood floor. "Dammit," his temper flared as he watched the pieces of glass scatter all over the floor. The thin man knelt down in order to clean the mess he made. His lower lip twitched as he grabbed each of the shards of glass. Jin began to rush as his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Jungkook" flashed across the screen multiple times as he continued to spam Jin's phone.     As Jin swiftly tapped against the screen, his foot slipped and pressed against a sharper piece of glass. He flinched before lifting his foot only to see blood dripping from the sole of his sock. "I'm already fifteen minutes late, I'm sure they'll be fine for another ten," Jin sighed as he finished cleaning up the glass and placing the broken picture frame back onto the suitcase. He slipped off his bloody sock before wrapping his foot and applying a bit of healing ointment onto it. He opted for a pair of Nike slides instead of his usual pair of sneakers as it would be more comfortable for his injured foot. Grabbing his house keys and a pair of earbuds, Jin ran down the sidewalk and to the local fast food restaurant where his friends had patiently waited for the young man.      While nearly sprinting down the dirty sidewalk of New York City, Jin stared down at his phone, desperately trying to reply to Jungkook as quickly as he could. The boy was kind hearted, but impatient. Yet today his continuous jabs at Jin would be the death of him. As Jin slowed down to a jog, he bumped into a woman holding what looked to be a pile of important papers in office-like manila folders. The loose papers slipped from her plump fingers. She let out a small gasp as her documents flew into the middle of the busy street. Jin could only give an apologetic stare before he started to run again. "Sorry! I swear if we run into each other again, I'll do you a favor," Jin shouted over his shoulder. He refused to be any later than twenty-five minutes late for Jungkook's 18th birthday. 'I'm finally turning into an adult so just don't blow me off like you did with everyone else,' Jungkook had begged him over the phone the night earlier. 'I promise I'll be there.' And with that thought in mind, Jin began to sprint once again with a small grin on his face.

        "Do you think he's gonna show?" Yoongi mumbled as he nearly inhaled his fries. He gave a quick concerned look at the birthday boy. ‘I need a smoke’ Yoongi thought to himself as he bounced his right leg out of habit. If Jin wasn't known for his cockiness, then it was his amazing ability fall back asleep in less than 5 minutes. “Don’t go putting those idiotic pessimistic thoughts in Kookie’s mind, Yoongi. He already is starting to act like a blunt dickhead since he’s been hanging out with you.” Jimin sharply interrupted. He pulled at his sleeves to cover his fingers before averting his eyes from Yoongi’ gaze. Taehyung rolled his eyes before lightly sucking on his teeth. “Both of you, shut the fuck up. Jin is sprinting across the damn street in those old ass slides he bought his freshman year.” Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin turned their heads and stared at the lanky young man roughly take off his shoes and limped is way into the fast food restaurant. Jin slammed open the glass door before wildly searching for his group of misfits. His harsh breathing calmed to something that was somewhat normal when he made eye contact with Jungkook.   Jungkook’s smile broke through his once solemn face and a dimple on his right cheek was something that made the rest of the boys smile. “Over here! We’re gonna go to the bridge in a bit,” the boy yelled as he motioned Jin over towards the booth in the corner where the four boys sat at. “Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, Kookie,” an apologetic smile rose to Jin’ tanned face as he started to play with the hair that lie on the back of his neck, purposely avoiding the frizzy mess that sat atop his head. Taehyung pulled out his earbuds, giving Jin a thin smile before turning to talk to Jimin. Jin watched Taehyung as he quietly whispered and played with the frayed edges of his sleeves. His lips parted as he began to voice his concern toward Taehyung, but Yoongi cut him off. “So why were you so late?” the dyed redhead asked, his voice sharp and stern.“You knew it was Kookie’s birthday today and you knew he was gonna hurt if someone else were to let him down again.” Yoongi’ fingers tightened around themselves under the table. His dark brows were brought down at an angle, nearly touching the bridge of his nose. His breathing became heavier as anger rose from within him. To others, Yoongi might have been over reacting, but within those five boys it was expected and in reason. Before Jin answered, he gestured to his injured foot.

“I was on my way out and I dropped some glass.” Jin’s reply was sharp, he didn’t want to go any more into what he had dropped before his mental stability drops as well. “I really and sorry I’m late though. I’ll make it up to you later tonight, I promise.” the tan young man smiled at his friend before holding up his right pinky. Jungkook’s inner childishness was brought out and he linked his own finger with Jin’s.

The group of friends sat around a small makeshift bonfire that was just under the noisy bridge. Taehyung pulled out a small purple package from the pocket of his hoodie. As he ripped it open, Yoongi had pulled out a small baggie filled to the brim with a green substance. “Are you guys gonna smoke?” Jin asked while he tossed his empty bottle of some cheap alcohol he had bought the earlier that day out into the woods that were just a few feet from them.

Yoongi hummed quietly before handing the bag of bud to the younger man. Taehyung expertly rolled a blunt in his hand before lighting the tip of the Backwoods blunt on the small bonfire in front of him. “Clearly. I got 3 grams of some AK-47 for five dollars,” Yoongi bragged to Jin. He took the blunt from Taehyung’ boney fingers and placed it between his plump lips. Jimin turned towards Yoongi and watched as the thick cloud of smoke slipped through his lips. “Bitch could’ve just made me pay the full price and let me fuck instead of giving me a whole discount.” Yoongi spoke up once again.

“Why’re you acting like this?” Jin and Yoongi were only one year apart, and had they never dealt with a similar past, they would’ve never been friends. “You’ve haven’t always acted like this much of a dick before.” Jin’ voice was soft, he waited for the blunt to finally reach him before he continued speaking. “I’m serious though, what happened? You know you can tell us,” Jin finished, his tone as soft as it could ever be when he was smoking. Yoongi was quiet, he didn’t know how to react or maybe he was too high to even know what Jin was talking about. Jin stared at his closest friend with sad eyes. He felt the warmth of the smoke in his lungs escape through his parted lips. Yoongi turned away without a response. The rest of the group spoke amongst themselves, complaining about the workload of their classes, oblivious to the sudden drop in the atmosphere.

“Have either of you guys passed that one human anatomy class?” Taehyung said. He might be higher than a kite, but he was still worried about his own grades as he was trying to leave the Big Apple, and in order to do that, he needs to get into a good collegeー granted if he had the money, Taehyung would have moved long ago. Jin looked up at the high school senior, he opened his mouth to respond, but instead he laughed. “You good, Jin?” Yoongi still hadn’t spoken since Jin’ question. Frustrated, he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket before placing it in between his pink lips. Dammit. Where’s my fucking lighter? A yellow lighter was suddenly shoved into his face. Yoongi’ eyes flashed upward from his cigarette, Jungkook. Since when did he start carrying lighters with him?

[katsbarrells]

That I Would Be Good

(4/?)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Read on AO3.

Teaser: Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.

Nicole stood with her feet affixed to the sides of a treadmill that should have gone into retirement at least five years ago. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the lateral bar in front of her as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Nearly a dozen moon-shaped electrodes had been strategically placed on her chest and torso, all laid out to map her cardiac function. Her hair was tied up in a high pony tail, torso exposed with the exception of a plum colored sports bra. It had been the only one she could find on such short notice. Waverly had kept a lot of her clothing as relics, but they were mostly sweaters and old college t-shirts. The less sentimental items had been put into storage, or had been left sitting for so long that they took on an insufferable musty aroma. Deep down, she knew full well that the color of her sports bra didn’t exactly deserve such scrutiny – but she had to focus on something, anything other than the gaze of the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The body she occupied no longer felt like home.

“Are you ready?” Dolls tenderly interrupted Nicole’s introspective examination of her physical identity.

Nicole blinked slowly in attempt to pull herself from her own mind and looked around the small exam room that Dolls had managed to “borrow”. Her eyes briefly caught Waverly’s before moving on to Doc, and finally Wynonna.

“Full house today,” she huffed. “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

“You can do it,” Waverly murmured under her breath. Nicole could hear it clear as day.

Dolls nodded and pushed the start button on the treadmill, slowly bumping the speed up to a breezy 1.7 miles per hour. “Just a quick warm up,” he offered. “…and loosen your grip. It could interfere with the reading.”

Nicole obliged, walking excruciatingly slow for three minutes. Dolls bumped up the speed and incline ever so slightly and she continued with her stationary hike until Dolls increased the levels once again.

“An average human should be reaching about 85% of their predicted heart rate at this stage. Yours hasn’t budged at all from your resting heart rate. How do you feel?”

Nicole shrugged. “Fine.”

With a nod of approval, Dolls increased the speed and incline once again. Nicole’s legs pumped a little faster, but her breathing remained even. The former deputy adapted quickly, though her EKG gave no indication of cardiac distress.

“We’re going to go through one more stage before we try something different, Haught.” His tone was cool, even – though his own confusion was palpable. Even he broke a sweat during exercise.

“Do what you need to do.”

“Be careful,” Waverly pleaded. Wynonna rolled her eyes in response. Doc remained quiet, an unlit hand-rolled cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Without another word, Dolls cranked up the incline to 50% and increased the speed to 10 miles per hour. Nicole broke out into a run. After a few moments, she began breathing heavily, though sweat was yet to dampen her skin. The hum and buzz of the treadmill’s failing motor filled the room until Nicole slammed her hand on the stop button, startling the room’s other occupants.

“This isn’t doing anything other than reminding me that I forgot to eat dinner last night…and breakfast this morning.”

“It’s telling me that I need to work on my cardio,” Wynonna quipped, elbowing Waverly in the ribs for some validation of her humor.

“Actually,” Dolls paused. “It’s telling us that you have cardiovascular capabilities far beyond that of any human. Even now, you’re not breathing heavily. No cramps. No light headedness.”

Nicole nodded along with Dolls’ observations, ripping the electrodes from her skin and plopping down in a chair. “What’s next? You need to find out what I am so you can decide if Wynonna will have to kill me, right?”

Everyone in the room gasped at the uncharacteristic harshness of Nicole’s delivery. Nicole herself was taken aback by the brutality of her statement, and looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed. “Sorry.” Her eyes moved up to meet Waverly’s, who’s eyes were already glassy at Nicole’s proposition.

“No. You’re right, Haught. We need to find out what you are. And you’re not going to like the next test.”

*****

“Is all of this really necessary?” Waverly asked, worry constricting her vocal chords until they elevated the pitch of her voice twofold.

“Yes.” Dolls grunted, strapping Nicole down to the medical facility’s bastardization of a bed.  

Waverly’s anxiety levels were rising, her usual flightiness only amplified by the situation at hand. She quickly bound across the small room to grab Nicole’s hand. Nicole squeezed it back after ten long seconds of hesitation.

“It’s okay, Waves.”

“I know you think this is cruel,” Dolls confessed. “I’m not trying to be. This is what we need to do.”

Wynonna had left the room to tend to some other Revenant-related business, but Doc still observed from the corner, stepping out to the center of the room. “Agent Dolls…if I may,” he drawled. “What young Waverly here fails to see is the necessity of what you’re about to put Ms. Haught through.”

“You guys can stop talking about me like I’m not here strapped to a table.”

Doc tipped his hat in apology and continued. “With any creature, supernatural or of this world there are only two ways to see what it’s made of. One is through its head and the other is through its heart. The heart usually heals faster than the head – at least in these kinds of unconventional circumstances.”

Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hand just a little tighter, before letting it go and stepping away from the other woman. “Will you stop if it gets to be too much?” Her eyes widened as she looked at Dolls, who nodded slowly.

“I will.”

Nicole’s body went rigid as she watched Dolls cross the room to grab the defibrillator. Her hands balled into tight, shaking fists. For the first time all day, she felt her heart begin to race. She was acutely aware of the blood that circulated through her veins, the pulsing so loud that it dampened the voices of her companions.

By the time Dolls had resumed his position at her side, Nicole had regained control of her body and managed to cease her shaking before anyone noticed. In hell, fear is the easiest thing to swallow.

Her eyes met Dolls’. There was a sadness in his eyes, but it was eclipsed by his need for answers, his methodical approach to everything he did. She understood his plight. Nicole watched in silence as he gently placed the two large electrode pads on her exposed skin, staggered on her chest for maximum efficacy.

“You’re not wearing an underwire, are you?”

Nicole shook her head.

“Good. Are you ready?”

“No. But do it anyway.”

The Deputy Marshal took a step back and turned a dial on the defibrillator machine. Pumping it up to 200J, he promptly pushed the charge button. After a few seconds he announced, “Stand back,” and pushed the button again. Controlled lightning shot through Nicole Haught’s chest, her body jolting upward from the shock. Gasping for air, she fell back into the table, heaving, coughing; but showing no signs of supernatural influence. Dolls pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s head snapped back, a low growl stirring in the back of her throat.

Waverly took a step forward. “Dolls, this is too much. You’re going to hurt her!”

Dolls made a snap judgment. He was close to calling forth whatever it was that now lived inside Nicole Haught’s body. He could feel it. He could smell it. He pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s body jerked, snapping one of the straps that held her to the table. Doc took a step forward to help restrain her, but Dolls yelled out in protest.

“Do not touch her!”

Another high voltage shock to the system.

That was all she needed.

Nicole’s eyes shot open, embers glowing deep within the irises. Her mouth opened as though she were gasping for air, guttural snarls passing through her lips. Her hands, still balled into fists were dyed crimson with her own dripping blood.

“Please stop!” Waverly shouted.

This time, Dolls listened.

The former deputy expelled any excess energy that had accumulated from the shocks. Her eyes snapped shut, body falling limp. Her hands opened as she slipped into an ethereal state of unconsciousness. As her hands relaxed even further, Doc cocked his head to take a closer look. Her fingers and nails had elongated, sharpened like razor blades. The gashes they had left across her palms were already closing, drying blood the only evidence of her pain.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Doc mumbled.

“What?” Dolls and Waverly asked in unison.

Doc ignored them and stepped towards Nicole. He reached out and picked up one of her hands, examining the nails and joint position of each digit. “How the hell did you pull this one off, Haught?”

After a moment he set her hand down and reached into his pocket, fishing for his matchbook.

Waverly and Dolls stared at Doc is disbelief, one too distraught from the events that had transpired, and the other too perplexed to properly analyze the situation.

“Well?!” Waverly probed. Doc opened up his matchbook, pulling out a small firestarter and swiping it to the point of combustion. He slowly raised it to the unlit-cigarette he had been nursing, and lit it up. He took a long, slow drag. Shaking his head, he blew out a cloud of smoke right over Nicole’s face.

“I know what she is…and you’re not going to want to be here when she wakes up.”

[zenonaa]

Ibuki/Mikan

… leaping into the other’s arms.

requested by @dontmesswithabunnyposts

SEMI-NSFW MEME – SEND ME A PAIRING AND A NUMBER AND I’LL WRITE YOU A FICLET ABOUT ONE

Word count: 1578

AO3: click here

Mikan stares up at the haunted house that grows in size as she and Ibuki draw closer to it. Okay, the white building towering over Mikan isn’t really haunted. The chain link barriers that turn the queue into a maze all the way to the porch wouldn’t be at a real haunted house, and the tombstones bearing names with puns, dotted on raised terrain behind a picket fence to one side of them, are clearly deliberate and fake. Added onto this, through no fault of their own, the grey clouds in the sky feel excessive and over the top. Well, they are over the top in the sense that they exist above them, therefore on top, but -

“Finally!” Ibuki yells and Mikan joins in almost as loud, which inspires Ibuki to scream too.

Near the entrance of the haunted house, an attendant in a black-and-green loita dress jumps, and most likely so does anyone lurking around this section of the park who also decided to brave against the cold, rain-prone weather today.

First to stop screaming is Mikan. Victorious, Ibuki holds the noise for as long as she can, and then she remarks, “Wow-Ow! Nurse Mikan-chan was defeated by Ibuki’s hyper voice, but Mikan-chan was nonetheless impressive.”

“Y-You startled me,” explains Mikan, clutching her heart.

Ibuki grins and says, “Ibuki commends your enthusiasm! The attraction hasn’t even started yet and Mikan-chan’s all fired up! Woo! Ibuki’s feeling another kind of attraction more than ever now!”

Mikan just gives a small smile back, but her lips compress and split open into an o-shape when Ibuki grasps Mikan’s hand and leads them up steps then across the porch to the attendant who ushers them into the building.

Green ceiling lights enable sight in the foyer. From an out-of-sight speaker, a voice drawls, “Be careful not to dawdle for too long, mortals. After all, who knows what followed you in...? It really makes every creak in another room and flickering candlelight much more sinister, don’t you think? Please... come into the next room...”

Still holding Mikan’s hand, Ibuki takes them to the next room as instructed. Normally, the place would be packed, but on this rare occasion, they find themselves the only visitors on this particular tour because of the temperamental weather. While Ibuki beams, Mikan looks around uneasily. Different portraits hang on each wall, totalling four, of middle-aged to elderly people from the torso up in mundane poses in mundane places. For example, one painting depicts a woman in front of a town hall, and another shows a chef flourishing a spoon. The door that they entered through closes and the small room darkens significantly, flushing it with a dull yellow glow, but the paintings remain distinct due to LED lights above the top of their frames.

“Welcome to my haunted mansion,” says the same bodiless voice that greeted them. “Make yourselves at home... there’s not much else you can do. See, the only door is locked and there are no windows, so you can’t do much else. Don’t worry though, it’s not so bad here... as long as you don’t upset the residents. A few of them have been here for over one hundred years, so they’re quite used to things being as they are. It’s crowded, but I suppose we can accommodate you... at a stretch.”

The walls of the room seemingly begin to stretch upward and Mikan tenses, but she quickly realises that the room they stepped into is actually an open-topped elevator now traveling downward, and the covering on the bottom halves of the paintings slide down as she and Ibuki descend. The woman in front of the town hall has flames licking at her legs as she burns at the stake, and the chef’s platter has a head biting down on an apple.

Mikan grasps Ibuki’s arm.

“Ibuki tots wants this kind of stuff on her next album cover,” announces Ibuki. She makes eye contact with Mikan. “Hey, you’re not grossed out, are you?”

“N-No,” Mikan admits. She fidgets with the bottom of her skirt. “During horror movies, only jump scares get to me... but these paintings are q-quite strange, aren’t they?”

“Strange is just misunderstood,” Ibuki replies.

At the bottom, the door opens, and they wander through the next room. It contains the sort of things that one would expect to find in a pretend haunted house: silver string cobwebs, paintings of people that change to skeletons when viewed at certain angles, fake windows that flash with pretend lightning and rocking chairs set to lurch by themselves. The voice on the speakers tries to evoke a sinister mood with a narration about the old tenants, but once Ibuki has headbanged in front of all the paintings on the walls and seen every possible image, she drags Mikan into the next area even though the narration hasn’t ended yet.

“Climb aboard,” the voice commands, referring to the connected carts moving along a track ahead of the pair. It doesn’t stop for them so the girls jump on, Ibuki first.

Mikan adjusts the angle of her foot as she lands so she falls on her face by Ibuki’s feet.

“That’s a spectacularly uber fail, even for you,” remarks Ibuki as she pulls Mikan up. They sit next to each other, shed their damp coats which they slip behind their backs, and lower the bar to their lap.

“I’m so clumsy,” Mikan apologises, receiving less of a reaction than she predicted. Her stomach hurts a bit where she landed on her satchel, which contains her purse, first aid kit and umbrella.

Ibuki shrugs. “Next time, fall on Ibuki and Ibuki will catch you, okay? Lap or chest are preferred.”

She fixes the position of Mikan’s cap, which matches Ibuki’s and has two sequined rabbit ears on it, and winks.

A squeak pops out of Mikan and she hides her burning face in her hands.

Even though the next part of the attraction doesn’t scare Mikan, the technology certainly impresses her and both girls are more than happy to use it as an excuse for Mikan to cling to Ibuki’s arm. Though, really, Mikan doesn’t need an excuse because the fact they’re dating should be reason enough. Right? Right. They pass by a ballroom where holograms fade in and out of existence, and they see more paintings where the subject shows more ghoulish characteristics depending on the angle.

“It appears they’re having some difficulties passing through to our world. What a shame... they really want to meet you,” says the narrator.

A hologram swoops past them and Mikan shrieks. Due to the bar on the cart, she can’t leap onto Ibuki’s lap. Well aware of this, Ibuki rests her chin in her palm and pouts.

“Perhaps Madame Damara can... lend a hand or two,” suggests the narrator.

The next room has them go around a loose bend around an animatronic woman whose hand flies around as, at a guess, a hologram. Her cackles echo through the chamber, and the hand she stirs with is also disconnected from her arm, stirring a cauldron.

She says,

“Crickets, snails, basil and puppy dog tails, eyes of newts and rotten fruits... These are just a few of the ingredients for all you miscreants.”

Their cart drives into a room decorated to resemble a graveyard. Tombstones, zombies, ghosts... Mikan tries to take in as much as possible as the narrator describes their surroundings in rhyme. Ibuki raises her hand to her forehead and surveys the dark room, holding her stance as their cart bounces them in their seats. Afterwards, they wind through another hallway of portraits and ghosts before climbing up a slope.

“Congratulations,” says the narrator. “It seems like you reached the end! Please, take this certificate... this death certificate...”

Smoke hisses out either side of them, making the girls twitch. Between the pipes in the walls that pump out the smoke are mirrors where a ghost can be seen with their reflections. At the top, doors open and the floor levels, and their cart comes to a stop. Ibuki lifts the bar over their lap and they step out. Mikan hugs herself, shaking not so much due to fear, or even because she’s cold, but because the ride overwhelmed her senses with noises and shifts between dark and light.

“That involved a lot more sitting than Ibuki anticipated,” says Ibuki as they put on their coats and head toward the exit. She curls her lips and scratches the back of her head. “Ibuki had it all planned out... Mikan-chan would zoinks into Ibuki’s arms, and Ibuki would carry her over the horizon to their hotel room and go on the slip ‘n’ slide with her!”

If Ibuki continues saying things like that, Mikan will pass out and have to be carried to their hotel room. Her head spins and she hides her face in her hands. Hearing Ibuki chuckle, Mikan peeks out from between her fingers and drops her hands so she can rub the goosebumps on her arms as they step outside.

Lightning causes their vision to flash white. Thunder rumbles. Ibuki yelps and leaps into Mikan’s arms. Though Mikan stumbles, she manages not to fall over. Thankfully, Ibuki doesn’t weigh much. No, not thankfully, because Mikan keeps insisting that Ibuki eats more but Ibuki always changes the topic...

... but anyway.

“H-Hotel room, was it?” asks Mikan with a quivering smirk.

For once, Ibuki has been rendered speechless.