#liquidation warehouse near me

[brandedsurplus]

Jackets in Wholesale - Men & Women Jackets at Low Price | ValueShoppe

[motleyfam]

It was supposed to be an easy night.

“—With this serum, I shall finally free my atoms of their dimensional prison, allowing me to freely traverse the very fibers of our universe!” the mad scientist proclaims as Red Robin, who is seated in a chair across from him in the makeshift laboratory, works furiously to undo the knots binding his hands behind his back. “The laws of physics shall govern me no more!”

“Don’t you do it, Frank,” Red Robin warns as he struggles with the ropes. “You know what happened last time.”

“That’s Dr. Nexus to you!” the third-rate villain declares as he tips the neon purple liquid into his open mouth.

Tim swears. Tapping his ear to his shoulder, he activates his comms. “Anyone near the abandoned warehouse on 28th and Laremont?" he demands. "We might need some backup.”

“Seriously?” Red Hood snorts incredulously through his earpiece. Tim can hear gunfire in the background. “For Nexus? You’re off your game, kid.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a little tied up at the moment,” Tim bites back irritably. “And Frankie here is about to go into anaphylactic shock. Again.”

“DR. NEXUS!” the villain bellows, then promptly breaks into a coughing fit.

“You’re a community college drop-out, Frank! You do not have a doctorate!”

“Screw you, I’m going back! I’m just”—Frank wheezes—“taking a semester”—wheeze— “off!”

With a final tug, the ropes slip from Tim’s wrists. Jumping to his feet, he jams a hand into the eighth pocket of his utility belt, retrieving a plastic autoinjector.

Doubled over with his hands on his knees, Frank holds up a defensive hand as he approaches. “Wait, no!” He coughs a few times. “Just a little more time! I’m so”—he wheezes—“close! I can”—wheeze—“taste it!”

“You’re tasting the inside of your own airway, that’s what you’re tasting…” Tim mutters under his breath, ripping off the blue plastic cap with his teeth.

“Go to"—wheeze—"hell!”

“Pro tip,” Tim says as he swings the uncapped Epi-Pen in an arc over the villain's thigh, “try not to insult the guy who's saving your life!”

The needle plunges into Frank’s leg for the second time in as many weeks, eliciting a howl of indignation and pain.

“You know, that’s gotta be the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever said."

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim grumbles into the comms, “just send the freaking ambulance…”

[tht0nesimp]

Yandere Shalnark- Darling

TW: Yandere themes, reader was obtained disgustingly, kidnapping, violence, kinda short, probably only like 1k words, drugging, manipulation, debt, kinda loan-sharks

(fic under cut)

"Bye" you got off of the phone with your landlord, "Shit" you sit on the curb outside of the apartment complex and hide your face in your hands. You sat and listened to the rain for what felt like the rest of your life

The rain was so loud, almost loud enough to block out a pair of quiet footsteps. It was far too late, the second you truly noticed the door hadnt opened was the same second the rag was placed over your face, The night sky blared in your eyes as it blurred and contorted the more you breathed in the sickeningly sweet chemical

You didnt expect to wake up, and certainly not in a dark room which seemed to inhabit just you and likely whatever creepy crawlies were sitting in the corners of these god forsaken walls. You cursed everything, you prayed that your friends and family knew you loved them and every other thing that came to mind

When instead of death, you were met with two men standing infront of you "ill be taking her now, feitan, thank you" you assume the other man just nodded because you were picked up, the man carried you for quite some time before you were dropped, the blindfold stopped you from seeing but you could hear a key jingling before you were picked up once more by the man, who dropped you on a concrete floor "im going to untie you now,ok" you dont have time to answer before the rope around your limbs was sliced quicker than you ask who he was

By the time you stood up and took off the blindfold he was on the other side of the room, sitting on a storage box in the large warehouse "sorry, i cant take you back to my place right now" You quickly back away from him, the door not unlocking as you rattle the door knob "sorry, your gonna need a key for that" The blonde man held up a key before placing it back in his pocket in one liquid motion

"Who are you?" The man seems to have a look of fake betrayal as he gasps "you really dont remember!..You were at a bank we robbed" Your eyes widen as the man "Me and the troupe that is, im Shalnark" your lungs seem to completely give up on you, it would seem so since they were unable to take a breath

"Are you going to hyperventilate?" Shalnark pulls out a small device with wings on the side "Id love to get a video" he gives a sweet smile and points the camera at you while you struggle to breathe on the cold concrete floor

"Whats going on?" A small boy comes out of the dark "Nothing, Kalluto" The boy takes one small glance at your struggling form and flicks his fan at you, A slew of air coming into your lungs as he does, You watch him leave just as quickly as he had entered the strangely tense room

"Thank you?..." you said as he quietly returned to his position elsewhere "Youll get used to it, afterall, youve got a lifetime!" he smiles and seems to be surprised when you perk up "What do you mean?!" His face returns to a near constant smile as he just looks at you like a child throwing a tantrum over something silly "I kidnapped you, i own you now..Youll never leave me" he says it as if its the most childish thing possible

"How did you find me" Shalnark laughs and gives you a glare "I didnt, your debt found me" he gets off of the box and approaches your shaking form, giggling when you tremble as his arm snakes around your shoulder "Your trembling darling! Im gonna bring you out to my..friends" his hand rests on your neck, threatening to squeeze but not quite doing so "If you act up, there will be consequences" his face gets much darker and disturbing than before, but he goes back to just being friendly as his arm returns around your shoulder as he practically carries you into another room "Hello!" he shouts out to the multiple men and women siting around the building "This is Y/N" he says as he drops you on an old couch next to the most muscular man you had ever seen "Nice to meet you" He holds his hand out and gives you a grin that showed his sharp teeth "Dont scare her uvo!" Uvogin just smiles "Just being polite, you dont mind? Right doll?" He turns to look at you once more, shalnark also sends you a look but his is a piercing glare "Well..uhm.." you shrug and the two both seemed to be annoyed at the fakely nonchalant action

Shalnark approaches you and grabs your wrist in almost an unbelievably tight grip, Another man in a black cowl seemed to take notice and smile as shalnark inches ever closer to breaking your wrist, you manage to pull your wrist away and inch away from shalnark. "darling, we'll talk about that later" he whispers in your ear while bending down to your height as you hug your knees and look around the room once more, eventually just keeping your head down

The people in the room spoke, they were so caught up they didnt seem to notice when you slinked away to explore, finding an exit quite quickly as you walk out into the surronding pavement to go down the street. You pause when you read the sign...The nearest town was 20 miles away and you were pretty sure there was just about no one around

You came back to the building and entered once more, noticing commotion in another room. You enter and shalnark practically tackles you "You left, pick your next words very wisely" his smile still remained as he stood above your form "im sorry" the smile fades and he gets off of you "You will be" he practically drags you until your behind closed doors

He pins you down on the ground, kneeling so he was in a position with your arm at his mercy "If i break your arm..you wont be able to leave for a couple weeks.." he debates his choice "if i break a leg..i could keep you here forever" he bites his lip, seeming to think about his desicion

You scream when your arm is pulled, the bone popping and dislocating "I havent even broken it yet!" he laughs as tears stream down your face and onto the floor. He pulls harder and laughs once more when your scream gets louder "Its not that bad! Maybe ill do your leg too~" he coos in your ear as he pulls until he hears a clean snap

He gets up and stretches "That really got me worked up...maybe i can help feitan out!" he smiles and waves goodbye as he goes off to find feitan. Your left with a disgustingly intense pain in your arm, You get on the nearby bed which you assumed was his and clutched your arm

Hours pass, He returns and is suprised to see you still laying down crying "I guess i overestimated you...You are just a civilian after all" he sits down next to you and hands you a bottle of pain relief pills and a gatorade "I stole them from some store nearby" he says it as if its normal as he watches you take the pills "They might make you tired" he looks at you, watching you yawn "Feel free to go to bed, i have to be out tonight" theres a carelessness in his voice as he walks out

You give into sleep, curling up under the thin blankets as the pain dies down

You wake up to shalnark leaning over you, "Your finally awake!" he smiles as the pain from your arm registers. He sits down on the bed next to you and pokes your arm "I went out and stole stuff to make this more...comfortable for you" you nod and look at the bag on the floor and a fuzzy blanket that sat next to it "I really shouldnt give them to you..but im choosing to be nice even after your little escape attempt yesterday" you give him a irritated look "it was not an escape attempt" he gives you a sarcastic glance "Sure it wasnt" he searches through the shopping bag on the floor for a moment

"i dont eat breakfast, but Fei said most people do" he puts a yogurt on the bed and smiles as you pick it up. Your about to eat it but look at him and he seems confused before you speak "did you remember to buy a spoon?" it registers "Nope!, another member might have one though" he walks out before you can ask which

Your forced to get out of bed, trying to not put any pressure on your already aching arm as you try to remember the name of the one who you met yesterday. You found him talking to who you assumed was Feitan with your yogurt in one hand as the other laid strangely against your side "Do either of you know where i can find a spoon" You yawn and stare at them as they point to the bar behind you

You approach the bar and see a couple plastic spoons, you picked one up and began eating as the two men watched you retreat back to the room you had came from and sit back down on the bed. You looked at the bag from this morning, but dont dare look inside as you lay your head down

Sleep envelopes you as you quietly shift, you placed the fluffy blanket over you along with the few thin ones that were on the bed. You would sleep until shalnark appeared again...

[the12thnightproject]

Title: Help Wanted

Event: Mayday Heyday OC Exchange 2024 organized by @lorei-writes and @olivermorningstar

Giftee: @fighting-and-drawing

OC/Fandom: Thai Bulan / Ikemen Sengoku

Genre: Urban Fantasy AU

Warnings: Very Large Spider, some violence (involving said arachnid)

Word Count: 1500

See notes/dedications at end

As the sun sunk, building shadows elongated, creating patches of darkness on narrow, meandering streets. Parts of the city had been planned; every road numbered and set out in a precise grid. This was not one of those parts. If anyone planned out the Echigo district, they had done so by tossing noodles onto a map and putting the streets where they landed.

Thai was following their progress on a phone app, and wondered if his driver actually knew where to go. At least once the Uber doubled back, taking a longer, indirect route. As a precaution, Thai made an obvious show of texting the driver’s information to “a friend” (his own cloud account).

In truth, there were no friends to wonder or worry if he disappeared into a void, never to return.

Too many things had disappeared for him this year, the most pressing being a promised job, the one he had uprooted his life for. He’d travelled over 1000 miles, only to discover the job no longer existed. The entire company no longer existed – it had fallen victim to a takeover by Oda International, then dismantled. All previous employees were fired, all pending job offers rescinded.

Now trapped in a new country, with unpaid moving expenses, a dwindling bank account, and no solution for either, he was desperate for work… any kind. Having burned his bridges back home, in fact, having firebombed those bridges, he –

Screech!

The Uber slammed to a stop in the middle of the street, nearly garroting Thai with his own seatbelt. “Get out.” The driver flicked the automatic locks. “Now.”

He checked his phone. “We’re nowhere near-“

“Get out, or ride back to the city with me, but this car goes no further. Not here. Not after sunset.” The driver pulled a thick cudgel out from under the seat. “Yokai. It’s not worth my life to drive through the district.”

No use arguing with superstition. Grumbling to himself, Thai climbed out, then leaped for the gutter as the car zoomed away. He was surprised it hadn’t taken his leg off with it when it sped into the night.

The lights and press of the city’s humanity were far behind. Here in this strange neighborhood, the sounds were alien. No traffic hum or buzz of neon, just a steady drip drip drip of thick liquid onto pavement. The road was gritty, he could feel tiny grains of gravel and dirt slipping under his feet. A stench of rotting garbage hung in the air, dense, motionless, as if not even the wind would dare come to this place. Even the graffiti was different: its colors sharper, appearing bioluminescent, glowing talismans against evil.

Or warnings.

No… he was being fanciful. The driver’s obvious fear had gotten into his head. He wasn’t a big man, but he moved with strength and purpose. He wasn’t worth attacking, was not, even in his best interview outfit, dressed in a way that would not suggest wealth. Because there was no wealth. Even less now that most of his remaining funds had just sped away with the Uber. He’d have to walk the rest of the way.

At least he was within walking distance, as confirmed by his smartphone’s GPS. The voice of the AI (“Alex,” programmed with a soothing attractive Australian accent) told him to continue along this road another 500 meters.

Good thing I’m still within view of a satellite.

Plonk.

Something wet dripped on him and he squinted up at the tangle of ivy that covered the wall of a warehouse. Ivy? In the middle of the city? No time to investigate, he was already late for the interview. Besides… there was something sinister about that mass of ivy, as if it hid watching eyes.

When, as Alex directed, he turned left at a street so narrow he’d have hesitated to call it a street at all, something skittered past his leg, something furry and malevolent.

Yokai…

It had been a cat. Or… a very large rat (not that that possibility was reassuring).

Still, with Alex giving him updated directions he felt almost comforted. As if the AI was his friend, a non-judgmental friend who would help him navigate the worst of life’s bumps. If only Alex had told him, “Stay in college. Don’t move to a foreign country, don’t break up with -.”

Crash! Thud. Ooof!

“You have arrived, mate.” The AI went silent.

Arrived where?

The noises were coming from the bar on his left. With late summer humidity streaking the window, he’d missed the sign. Kasugayama. Through the fogged glass, he could see two shapes locked in battle.

Anyone might have been forgiven if they’d performed a 500 meter sprint back to relative safety. But acting on instinct, an instinct that he cursed a moment later, Thai ran into the bar. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Expectations and instincts did not generally go together. Still, one might have expected a simple bar fight, or a less simple robbery. And not… a spider the size of a pony.

Yokai…

There was probably a more proper name for a spider demon, but Thai’s language skills temporarily deserted him.

Of all the gin joints…

Spiders… why did it have to be spiders?

Why am I thinking in movie quotations?

Fighting the spider was a man who wielded a pool cue as expertly as a spear. But the spider had a six arm advantage and…

Sproing!!!

Holy fuck… it can jump!

That damn instinct took over again and Thai grabbed a chair and threw it at the spider. This had the stunning effect of breaking the chair and getting the thing’s attention. It charged toward him, then screeched when the other man drove the pool cue into its butt.

Now it’s just pissed off.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Thai flipped himself over the bar top, grabbed a bottle from the speed rail, and smashed it on the edge of the sink. The scent of fermented rice mixed with the aromas of spider goo and blood. The blood belonged to a rather nasty looking slash on the man’s leg. The spider goo was … well, obvious.

At the sound of the breaking glass, the spider scuttled toward him again, a glare of uncanny intelligence in its red eyes. Thai slashed furiously with his improvised weapon, drawing more goo from the spider, and dammit, there was a paring knife right there on the garnish station.

The spider jumped to the bar top, stretching out a spindly leg (arm?) toward him. Thai switched the bottle to his other hand, grabbed the knife, and slammed it down on the arm/leg, severing it at a joint. The limb snapped off with a sickening crunch and slid halfway across the room. The spider emitted a high-pitched shriek, then the other man drove the pool cue through its head.

It twitched three times, then went still.

In the sudden silence, Thai could hear himself and the other man breathing.

Later, he might think back and take in details – the man’s warm brown eyes, the feel of the sticky floor under his feet and the flicker and hum of fluorescent lights. But the instinct that drove him into this place took over again. While the other man retrieved a well-used first aid kit and treated the slash on his leg, Thai soothed his jangled, spider-hating nerves with the ritual of cleaning. Wipe down the bar top. Sterilize the knife. Sweep up the glass…

Noticing the pool cue samurai was eyeing a bottle of iichiko Shochu, Thai poured him a glass, adding blood orange juice, tonic water and ice when prompted.

Finally the other guy spoke. “No idea why you came crashing in like a wild boar, but… thanks.” The blunt speech was softened with a wry smile.

“Job interview? Advertisement for a barback?” Thai unearthed his phone, getting ready to pull up the confirmation email. “I’m Thai Bulan.”

“Oh, shit.” The other man raked his hands through a mop of sweat-soaked brown hair. “It completely went out of my head. Sanada Yukimura.” He bowed. “Any chance you still want the job?”

It had been listed as minimum salary, but it did come with the mention of a studio apartment above the bar. “Um.” Thai indicated the spider. “Is that what happened to the previous barback?”

“No. This… was new. Never seen one those in here before.” Yukimura took a deep breath. “The last guy quit. Kasugayama’s owner is a bit… unique.”

Then, with what might have been called perfect timing, the front door opened and a man with heterochromatic eyes entered and surveyed the scene. He eyed the dead spider. “Good. I was in the mood for takeout.”

He pulled a sword out of the scabbard on his waist and cleanly sliced off a limb. Then, gnawing on it like it was a turkey leg and he was some medieval king, he disappeared into a back office.

Thai took the job.

Thank you @lorei-writes and @olivermorningstar for organizing this event (and it was super organized with check ins and google docs and everything I could ask for. If they ever do another event, jump at the chance to join).

To @fighting-and-drawing , I really hope I have done Thai justice. Heart of The Warrior has been one of my favorite Ikemen Sengoku fanfics (I've read it more than once), and I was thrilled when I learned you were the giftee. I'm not nearly as confident writing fight scenes though, so I hope it made sense. And yes, I was the anon who asked you what Yukimura might order in a modern bar (and then had to figure out whether he would still drink a sweet cocktail after killing a giant spider).

To anyone else reading this, I encourage anyone interested in reading a fantastically well written, well researched Ikesen longfic to read Heart of The Warrior either here or here

[myriaderotica]

Distractions - TFP KOBD X (Female) Reader

Warnings: 18+

Word Count: 653

The pain was mild. Thankfully, it was far from excruciating, but it wasn’t necessarily tolerable either. Just some time ago, the anesthesia ceased to work its magic on you, so there was a constant pain in both your jaw and your teeth. After a long and grueling day at the dentist’s office, you planned to rest and relax for the remainder of the day in your home, preferably on a bed or a couch. However, as luck would have it, you managed to end up inside a warehouse, surrounded by two very attentive and doting Cybertronians. 

Breakdown held you safely in his large servos, cradling you close with his rounded digits as you rested atop his big, blue chest. As he traced light circles into your back, you couldn’t help but moan softly. You leaned into his touch, sighing gently as his engine rumbled beneath your body. It was just soft enough to ease you.

As well as tease you.

He knew what he was doing, and he was delighted. Nevertheless, he was as soft as he could be while tending to you. It was something that you dearly appreciated. 

But just then, another sharp pain from your jaw forced your body to shiver. Breakdown frowned at you, his single, yellow optic aglow with concern. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, allowing the throbbing to subside. Breakdown readjusted his servos, setting one behind your back while the other pressed against your clothed chest. Carefully, he rubbed your tits. He massaged them, the motions from his digits causing them to bounce. Almost immediately, your nipples grew hard. When he flicked a bud, he caught the blissful expression on your face. It encouraged him. As he massaged your breasts, you gripped his plating and tilted your head back in ecstasy. For several moments, he toyed with your boobs until you relaxed once again. 

He smiled at you.

“How’s that? Any better?”

A familiar sort of liquid pooled inside your underwear as you cried his name. 

“Much better!”

From his vocalizer, Breakdown released a hum. Cautiously, he drew you closer to his helm and kissed you on the corners of your lips. In spite of his size, the kiss worked well. His dermas, although large, were warm and smooth against your skin. As you moaned, his inner mechanics purred slightly louder in response. After a moment or two, he kissed you directly on the lips.

“Happy to hear it, sweetspark.” 

You laughed. Before you could hug him, however, a smooth voice wafted inside your ears. 

“As am I.” 

Knock Out approached your side with a grin. 

“Here. Hand her to me, Breakdown.” 

Breakdown didn’t complain, and neither did you. When you reached out to the red mech, he instantly brought you into his own servos. He was careful not to injure you with his claws. As he settled himself beside Breakdown, he slowly dragged his sharp digits across your body, touching your bare shoulders as well as your exposed thighs. 

“Good girl,” he crooned. “Now, aren’t you pleased that we answered your call for help?” 

You pouted at his teases, but nodded. 

“Maybe.”

He chuckled, continuing to stroke your body until finally choosing to dip a claw between your legs. You gasped and squirmed, prompting the Decepticon medic to beam with pride. As you firmly pressed your soft hands to his plating, you began to rock against his digit. Knock Out moved his claw beneath you in order to help you. As your arousal increased, Breakdown shifted closer.

“Doc, I think she’s pretty wet…”

Knock Out smirked.

“Ah, but of course she is, Breaky. We are giving her a much-needed distraction from the pain, after all.”

All of the sudden, he stopped his claw from moving beneath you. Before you could question what happened, he pulled you near his faceplate and pressed a little kiss to your jaw. 

“And I cannot be more pleased by the results.”

Divider Credit: @/inklore

[davantagedenuit]

How about a thing where Bruce rings Jim Gordon's doorbell to get drunk on Harvey Dent Day? Because I certainly wrote that, and it's right here.

One year post-TDK. 700ish words, I think. No porn, just feels.

-----------

Jim Gordon’s doorbell rings a little past 3pm, on a cloudy day, a normal day in Gotham by all standards. He expects a salesman he can politely send away, a reporter at worst, but he certainly does not expect Bruce Wayne. The three-piece suit, the smug air and one hand jammed in a pocket. “Commissioner,” Wayne says.

“Mr Wayne.”

Gordon makes his tone as interrogative as one can when addressing a man rich and powerful enough to ruin the entire city at will. But Wayne seems to take the cool, startled greeting as an invitation, and steps forward so decidedly that Gordon has to bodily stop him, and he is surprised too that it takes him some effort; Wayne is stronger than he looks. “What,” Jim says, “are you doing here?”

Wayne’s eyes are still unreadable; the hand not in his pocket produces a bottle, amber glass, slim with a long neck, white kanjis over a dark red label. “It’s Harvey Dent Day. We should celebrate,” he says. This time, he pushes Jim out of the way, not violently, but Jim would have needed to put all his weight into it to resist.

With mixed bewilderment and irritation, he follows Wayne to the kitchen, his kitchen, where Wayne has just fished two glasses from a cupboard. “Are you high?” he asks, and it’s his turn to wedge his hands in his pockets. “If you are, coming to the police Commissioner’s house is not a good idea.”

“Definitely not high, no.”

“Okay,” Jim says softly. “Then unless you tell me what you are doing in my house, Mr Wayne, you’re going to need to leave.” His demeanor stays mild, and his voice gets even softer than it was, but the warning gets through to Wayne; he stops unscrewing the bottle and his gaze drifts.

“It’s Harvey Dent Day,” he says again, quieter this time, with something in the voice that makes Jim frown.

“No, it’s not. Harvey Dent Day is on the 8th. Today’s the 6th.”

Wayne resumes his work on the bottle, pours two glasses. “Harvey didn’t die on the 8th,” he says. “He died on the 6th, when I pulled him out of the warehouse at Cicero.” He holds out a glass for Gordon.

The combination of Wayne’s voice, deeper now, with the steady, and suddenly familiar, eye contact, tells Jim more than Wayne’s words do. He takes a few steps back, as if the newfound truth had an imposing presence in the room. Wayne is still looking at him, and Jim doesn’t think Batman has ever held his gaze for that long.

The glass is still offered—Jim takes it.

Wayne sits down at his kitchen table. Jim sits too, and gradually, he stops seeing Wayne’s suit, his slicked-back hair, and his long legs, crossed at the knee, like an old Hollywood type. He sees the jawline, the unsuspectingly broad shoulders in a jacket, he guesses, tailored specifically to make Wayne look less muscular than he must be underneath—and that silence, calm and trusting, like peace in the storm. Jim would know that silence anywhere.

He swallows: surprise recedes, and other emotions flood him in its place. He exhales, and his own breath is warm on his lips, and, yes, his voice is shaking, when he says, “I thought you were gone.” It’s nowhere near what he means to say, which is somewhere in between don’t you dare leave me alone with this lie and please, don’t leave me, I need you.

Wayne has a small smile. “Not going anywhere. Gotham is my home.” He raises his glass. “To Rachel,” he says, and sure enough, his eyes are lined with tears that he’s not trying to hide. “And to Harvey.”

They knock back their glasses.

“Sweet Lord,” Jim says. The liquid in that bottle looks innocuous enough, a very pale beige tint in their small glasses—there’s almost no bite to it on his tongue, and yet it lands strong and almost uncomfortably warm in his stomach. Almost.

“Yeah,” Wayne agrees. “It does that.”

He gets the bottle from the counter, and Jim holds out his glass.

[firewalkzwit]

runt // jonathan crane x reader. (5)

Chapter 4

cross-posted on AO3

masterlist

In a helpless attempt of the mind to protect her from thinking about anything that could cause her to spiral, Y/N could only describe her mental state as she rode in the passenger seat of his car as numb. With the enigmatic Dr. Crane behind the wheel, on their way to an unnamed destination, the possibilities were endless. Y/N attempted a few times to delicately question him, but he refused to cooperate in any way with soothing her mind, as his responses were as enigmatic as the millions of doubts that raced through her mind as she sat. His gaze would ocasionally peer at her through the corner of his eye, only to come accross the disappointing sighting of a completely emotionless expression, no signs of fear. Although she was very much afraid, her defense mechanisms had succesfully blocked her from mentally processing just how terrified she was.

She was resilient, and as they arrived to a grim location, completely unable to gather where they were or how to leave, Y/N jumped out of the car finding herself in an empty parking lot near a poorly illuminated warehouse, dimly lit by a curved and rusty lamppost beside the decayed and lifeless depot. As she placed her first foot down the vehicle, her high heeled boots met with a puddle deeper than the reflections of light made it seem, causing her to twist her ankle and trip humilliatingly over the water. Crane looked down at her as if he watched the filth of a pig, his nose scrunching under his glasses.

"I'll pretend I didn't see that and omit your stupidity, because I'm nice, and explain to you why we're here. That is if you haven't figured it out already."

"You're going to kill me...?" Y/N asked naively, picking herself up as the turbid water soaked her fur coat. From her knees slid down the blood-stained water, the impure liquid stinging the fresh wound the pavement had roughly caused after the fall. Crane laughed at her implications, the original interest in her intelligence that had lit in him slowly dissipating, but Y/N was relying on this. As she kneeled up, she prayed that he'd continue to subestimate her, laugh at her antics and belittle her into something she's not, it was her chance at survival.

The Batman was supposed to be a figure of protection, and while he obviously couldn't be everywhere all at once, it seemed that his existence continuously proved itself useless as at that very moment Y/N could find more solace in the thought of a God than in the living, tangible Batman himself. If Batman couldn't save everyone, at least he should be a symbol of hope for those feeling helpless, but frankly Y/N evaluated the possibility of Batman saving her from being raped or killed were near zero. And then again yet in all those chances the Bat found room to murder her brother, how ironic.

"I wouldn't put it that way. You know? For a second I really considered you might after all be smarter than you look, back at the Iceberg Lounge, but your tendency of jumping to conclusions made me scratch that."

"I don't follow."

"Of course you don't, I'll spoon-feed it to you so you can understand. I'm only working for Falcone and his bunch of lousy goons so I can pursue my passion project. Like you have yours I have my own, and since you and I alike share an interest for fear I'd like to show it to you." As he spoke, from under his cuffs he adjusted a strange device that protruded from under his suit. He continued to speak as he opened the trunk of his car, opening a briefcase inside it. "Unfortunately for me, my passion project is somewhat unorthodox, but I'm sure a fellow who's keen on the psychology of fear will understand that there's nasty parts to all good research." Followed by finishing his sentence, Dr. Crane revealed what the briefcase contained; a ragged burlap mask which he placed on his head as he tightened the rope on his own neck.

"No hard feelings?"

"Huh? I don't-" It was before she could finish her sentence that Dr. Crane's wrist gadget ejected a strange gas of an acidic stench that quickly provoked her to gag, but as she looked down Y/N could only see her own ground begin to crumble and swallow her into nothingness. In her frenzy, she screamed as all her limbs fluttered erratically, trying to get a hold of something. She dropped down to the floor, waddling on the puddle trying to get her touch to perceive any signs of the soil beneath her. She looked up to see Dr. Crane, instead finding herself with the horrifying sight of a demonic Scarecrow whose face was plagued with maggots.

"You scream like a final girl." Crane stated amused, herself unable to perceive any intelligible words as they were all drowned under her screams of horror. In her logic, the only thing stopping her from falling was the demonic figure in front of her, to who she immediately dragged herself clumsily in desperation to hold on to his legs. She tightened her grip around him like a leech, Crane unable to be bothered by the dirt of the water staining his fine suit and immersed in the hypnotizing sight of Y/N completely controlled by her primal nature.

Jonathan Crane was never on the popular end. He was a smart kid, he knew one didn't have to be so smart to know peaking in high school is a lame choice. However, it was being rejected over and over that only fed the desire of being wanted further. Crane was subject of more humiliation than most can take, and he took pride in the way he rose from the torture he endured in his teenage years. No young boy should go through what he experienced, as it was this that fuelled a growing hatred within him, fostering dark desires of control in his soul.

One can break down authoritarian megalomaniacs down into two types of childhoods. The ones who were born insane, the psychopaths with fetal alcohol syndrome or simply just unfortunate inheritors of their insanity, and those who are made insane. Being rejected only makes an individual further wish for approval, especially and eventually, just wishing that they can be wanted so they can be in the position of the rejecter, to feel in control. The latter is the case of Crane, his ego was immensely fragile and he'd overcompensate for it through constantly feeding his immense intellect, a gift he exploited and overused to justify himself repeatedly. There's no doubt in the back of Crane's mind occasional remorse attempted to surface his thoughts, but what begun as a somewhat harmless desire of a social reject to feel in control of his life and acquaintances to experience the social leadership he never had, eventually spiraled into absolute madness. Crane fed off of others' suffering and that was his payback, only so endless and Crane being insatiably hungry.

He obviously liked women. He never doubted his love for Sherry Squires. Most of it probably came of teenage lust and a desire to have something he knew he couldn't, especially because it belonged to his tormentor Bo Griggs. Perhaps his subconscious sparked the idea that if he could have Sherry, he'd be in control. It was the hard way that the once young Crane began to foster a disdain for women and their preying behavior, likewise to that of a scavenger. He was attracted to them, but he hated them, he hated Sherry for the humilliation she put him through, and projected this onto every woman that crossed his path.

To him, Y/N was no different to Sherry, trying to use him. It signified special delight to see her roll on the floor like a worm, a lost runt in helpless search for aid. The sensation of being in control washed over him like the pleasure of a junkie feels flow through their veins after a hit of heroin. He gently but sadistically grabbed Y/N by the chin, forcing her to stare into his mask as her face contorted in sheer horror, puffy eyes from the tears and runny makeup smudged through her cheeks. It caught Scarecrow by surprise to feel the tightening grip of her hands wrap around his wrist, clawing into him like she'd hold on for dear life. Like an insect, she tried to grab his biceps, her legs clenching onto his calves further staining his clean suit with her filth.

It only took a few hours before her exhausted body rested on the floor, completely drained of energy to the point where the cold damp wasn't enough to make her get up. Dr. Crane rested his weight on the side of his car, smoking peacefully with his gaze pierced on Y/N, lying down like an animal on the cold and humid pavement. As the cigarette consumed itself and it's heat nearly grasped the tip of his fingers, Crane sighed and adjusted his posture, approaching the twitching body beneath him. The tremor on her body came in waves and unpredictably, but she was visibly awake.

"I know this may not work for your research individually, but it sure must have been hell of a ride." Crane spoke before letting out a light chuckle, grabbing her by the arm to sit her up. Her body was completely compliant to any movement, lifeless eyes vaguely staring into his without speaking a single word.

"Now that you've been to Hell and back, I'm sure you'd like to tell me what you know about the Batman. We both know you don't want to go back there." As he spoke, Crane's wrist indicated a clear threat, his finger signaling to his gadget. Y/N's glassy eyes blinked slowly and frequently, her jaw hanging open as her head tilted.

"The Batman..." She frowned only so slightly, her blurry gaze struggling to discern the shape of the figure in front of her. Crane was growing tired of waiting for the dose to wear off, ready to drug her with amphetamines to speed up her compliance.

"Yes, the Batman. Do you know him? Who is he? Did he send you here?" Crane's grip on her arm tightened as he pulled her closer, trying to appear threatening. Instead, her head, hardly staying in place, wobbled clumsily on her neck, unable to stay still. Y/N's body weight leaned and collapsed on him, her head against his chest as she hummed a vague attempt at answering. Despite her unpleasant smell and the sensory torture that it signified for Crane to feel her humid body against his, Crane's muscles contracted, and he froze as he frowned down at her. He was so unfamiliar with the proximity of a woman that the feeling of her damp hair against his chest, and her feminity so close to him made him nearly unresponsive, startled.

"Don't tell the Batman I want to kill him, he'd kill me first..." She muttered between giggles. Crane's face formed a frown of confusion. As of that point he'd been convinced she was spying for Oz or Falcone, but eventually he assumed the mobsters were too foolish to actually take the time to research his extensive career as a professor to give some company girl a script, it could only be the meticulous work of the Batman. Was the drug making her speak nonsense? Her reasons and motivations escaped him, and his desperation grew. As his mind schemed and assessed all the possibilities, Crane was displeased to hear a loud thud that disrupted his intense trail of thoughts.

[yoo-jeongneon]

the sticky tab series | sticky tab three: 5B

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

× series masterlist × main masterlist × × <- previous × next -> × seventeen (ot13) x gn!reader genre: mystery, thriller, drama warnings: journalist!reader, strategy consultant!joshua, alcohol/food mention, written as a journal entry in the first person, dates given as dd/mm/yyyy word count: 861 taglist: @hipsdofangirl × @strawberri-uyu × @asyre × @minhui896

When our conversation was done, Jeonghan thanked me. He expressed that it was nice to talk to someone new after years of living alone and speaking to the same few people over and over again. I merely smiled, unable to make a comment.

He opened the door to his apartment and told me to wait there while he strolled over to 5B and knocked three times. The door eventually opened, and a man with similar length, more reddish hair greeted him cheerfully, before he eyed me with confusion.

I remembered that Jeonghan had talked about him - his name was Joshua.

Jeonghan explained who I was. Joshua was intrigued; he told me they hadn't seen another person's face in years. It truly struck me then how, while solitude is a positive factor to living here, that loneliness could still be prominent.

Joshua was open to having a chat with me, after Jeonghan told him the broad strokes of what we talked about. He similarly remarked that he did indeed have a lot of things he could tell me, and even joked that my journal would be full by the end of the day.

By that point I realised the sixth floor had since gone quiet.

I rolled my shoulders back and headed over to 5B; Jeonghan then whispered something in Joshua's ear that I couldn't decipher, but it caused his jaw to drop and him to say a small 'oh, absolutely'. I didn't pry.

Jeonghan went back to his apartment, and Joshua happily invited me inside.

name: joshua hong date of birth: 30/12/1995 date moved in: 10/12/2017

Much like Jeonghan had said, 5B was equally small and the floor plan was near-identical.

We sat down beside one another on matching cream recliner chairs. They were made of velvet, and I could feel the texture between my fingers.

Between the chairs was a wooden side table with a glass top. An intricately detailed pitcher with a golden liquid sat in the middle, and four clean, delicate drinking glasses were right beside it. "Care for a drink?" he offered. I politely declined, but I confirmed if he wanted one, and said I would pour the glass. He smiled and thanked me, then lifted a glass while I poured the beverage: whiskey, with a particularly strong smell.

"Today is turning out to be quite the rollercoaster, huh?" he chuckled, taking a sip of the whiskey.

"You could certainly say that again."

"I feel as though I should apologise. You weren't expecting to wander in and find that note at the reception desk. I didn't actually think he'd do it."

"Do you have any idea of why he might have?"

Joshua shrugged. "That's something you'll have to ask him. Definitely a provocation of sorts, but honestly it's any guess with him."

I opened up my journal and started taking notes. "Jeonghan told me that there was a landlord here, but that he left before anyone moved in."

"Project Drawbridge was a failure. In every sense of the word. Too far from anyone, built on an old, desolate part of land where a warehouse once stood." My brow pricked up at that. "Oh, yeah. Used to be a waste facility if I remember rightly. Nobody was ever going to live here."

"So, why did the thirteen of you end up here, apart from the fact they were essentially free?"

Joshua took another drink of his whiskey and set it down on the side table, before looking me in the eye. "Let's just say, it gave us all the fresh start we were looking for. I suppose Junhui didn't tell you he stopped being a journalist because he feared someone finding out he lived in the 'Silent Dweller', i.e, the source of much speculation and mystery."

I shook my head, but the casual drop of such a revelation shocked me more.

"Thought not. If his company found out, he'd have to explain himself, and thus everyone knows now. He left quietly."

I sat with this information for a while. Joshua took another drink of whiskey, before getting up and walking over to the fridge. He took out a punnet of grapes then shut the door.

When he sat down on the opposite chair again, he offered me a grape. My shoulders were still tense from that information. I declined.

Details of note from our discussion:

joshua was a strategy consultant for a major business, but left not long after he moved in

project drawbridge switched contractors multiple times

2A wanted his (joshua's) apartment, but joshua refused to switch

3B leaves the apartment block the most

the last person who entered the apartment block was a potential investor, in 2020 - he heard noise coming from 1A, and thought it was haunted, promptly leaving

drawbridge drew its 'silent dweller' reputation from this event

3A is not a horrible person by any means, he just has strong opinions

1B is the youngest resident

1A is a very social person - he held a housewarming party in his apartment back in 2018

6A can be quite defensive but he's not horrible - he's really just a calm, reserved person

× yoo-jeongneon ×

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #6: You can find me in the Club

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 3.5K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

__________________________________________

VI. Gwellis Bagnoro is waiting for you near the front of the club and waves you over. Neon Dreams. Good name for a nightclub in Daiyu City. 

It’s a clusterfuck inside. This dark, cavernous warehouse that looks like it might have been some kind of industrial factory in a previous life. 

Despite the crush, everyone steps aside to give Mando a path without looking up from their drinks. 

Must be nice. 

You, on the other hand, have to quickstep to follow in his wake before the press of bodies can drag you away like a riptide into this sea of black silhouettes and glitter.

“Gwellis,” is the extent of the Mandalorian’s greeting. He tosses the cloak over his shoulder so his holster remains within reach before sliding into the booth and making sure he had a clear line of sight toward the entrance. 

Once again, there’s only one way in or out of this establishment. Why did no one in this godsforsaken town worry about safe and unobstructed exit routes? 

A server soon arrives with a bottle of cloudy liquor and three glasses. He gives the Mandalorian a sly wink before heading back to the bar. Because no one in this galaxy is immune to a six-foot-three hunk of muscle in shining Beskar armor, ladies and gentlemen.

Gwellis uses a vocoder, so you’ll actually be able to keep up with this conversation. If you don’t go deaf from the throbbing bass coming through the club’s sound system. It’s clear why this place is popular with folks engaged in the...clandestine economy. Unlike the cosmopolitan nightclubs of the Inner Rim, there are no elevated lounges or platforms for elite clientele to preen and exhibit. Visibility is terrible, and you can’t hear a fucking thing. 

“Mandalorian, I am glad we can do business.”

Gwellis helps himself to the liquor and pours you a drink. A thoughtful gesture considering the Onodone immediately pulls his trunk up from his lap and drops it down the neck of the bottle to suck up the remaining liquid inside. You’re kind of a lightweight, so you decide to sip yours. And, of course, Mando’s glass goes untouched.

Having sucked the bottle dry, Gwellis gets down to business. From beneath his robes, he pulls out a data-pad and scrolls over the screen. “I was surprised to receive this commission. Disguise is not the way of a Mandalorian.”

“It’s not for a job,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “My friend, she needs some new identification. ID, chaincode, and an implant.”

Gwellis studies you and taps something into the data-pad. “A war orphan from Saleucami, I think. Gone missing amidst the rubble from the siege.”

Fuck. Tragic but very plausible. You nod.

“Can you pass for human?”

When you nod again, Mando fixes his view plate on you. It was a subtle turn of his head, and someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t have caught the shift in his attention. But you do.

“Good. Human will be easier.”   

Gwellis regards you for a moment before launching into an incomprehensible stream of noises. The vocoder stays silent, so the high-pitched clicks and whistles are for the Mandalorian’s ears only.

“He says it’ll cost you fifty thousand credits.”

Shit! With Vos’ reward, you can afford it, sure, but that’s a lot of fucking money. And the fact that it’s exactly the same amount you just received from Vos feels like a weird fucking coincidence. 

Dammit, you had planned to save at least ten thousand of that for jewelry. Why must all your victories be so fleeting? 

“Arrive at my ship on the twenty-seventh hour.”

You finish your drink in one gulp as you watch the Onodone disappear back into the crowd. 

“I told you it wasn’t going to be cheap,” Mando says evenly. 

“You didn’t kick him under the table, so I’m sure it’s a fair price.”

“We’ll use funds for the job to cover it.”

“No, that’s okay. I know Nito needs money to buy some gear, and we should probably save the rest for Ubaa’s crew and payoffs.” You take a deep sigh. “Plus, it’s a good investment for me now anyway.” 

The Mandalorian pauses to take in your expression. Which must be challenging given how little of your face is visible with the hood and visor on.

“Don’t think it’ll withstand a serious background check, but you could probably get a straight job after this.”

After this? Working with Mando, life had been unfolding one day at a time. You hadn’t put much thought into the future. Yet here he was, anticipating the day you’d finally ‘come to your senses’ and choose safe, civilian life. It’s hard to believe that could be a possibility. 

“I already have a job,” you say wryly. 

Whatever he might think, right now, you’re not ready to imagine a life without him.   

“But, thank you. I’m relieved to have this kind of cover. I didn’t know anyone who could do this for me when I went underground. I mean…I knew that I must have ended up in some database…But, kriffing hell, it took months to coordinate our clinic deliveries. And yet the New Republic can just drop whatever they’re doing to run a cross-check?”

“Are you just now realizing how they hold this galaxy together?” He scoffed. “Surveillance and security is what they’ve got to offer.”

“Mando…that’s a shockingly pointed bit of social criticism. I didn’t take you for a revolutionary.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not blind to how this all works.” There’s a subtle switch in mood before he rests an elbow on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

“Um, sure. Yeah. I’d like to resume normal adult conversation.”

He sighs roughly and tosses his head.

“You know you’re not getting the deposit back for that room, Mando.”

You catch him mumbling something about cheap drywall and try not to snicker. While it’s absolutely ridiculous behavior for a grown man to punch holes in the wall…you can understand that Mandalorian warrior culture probably doesn’t impart a lot of wisdom about dealing with complex emotions like guilt and shame. 

And hell, this is coming from a woman whose coping response was to cry and masturbate in the shower, so who are you to judge?

You lean in over the table to hear him better, “What did you want to ask me?”

“How are you planning to pass for human?” 

You try not to blush when he leans closer, too, and you sit huddled together with your knees touching under the table.

“If I remove the reflective tissue from my eyes…that’s really the only visible difference.”

“Remove? How?”

“Do you want me to go into detail? Most people get the heebie-jeebies thinking about cutting—”

“Alright, fine.” He holds up a hand to stop you. “If it’s that simple, why didn’t…sorry, maybe that’s not something you want to talk about.”

“No, no! I’m never going discourage you from taking an interest in me,” you grin. Then, sigh. It’s a deeply personal topic to get into while trying to shout over a bass system. “I’ve probably been holding onto this delusion that someday I’d get to go back home. But there’s…not really anything to go back to…”

“What about your family? Your brother?”

That’s another topic you’re not prepared to get into at Neon Dreams, so you just shake your head no. 

“There’s nobody waiting for me—well, no one who’s waiting to welcome me back.” 

“Could you…reverse it?” Mando asks in a surprisingly gentle voice. “Make the tissue regrow?”

“Maybe,” you smile at him sheepishly.

“I’m sorry you have to do this, Thuli, and that it feels like you’re losing a part of yourself,” he places a gloved hand over yours to stop you from twisting your fingers into knots. “But, it’s the right choice. The smart choice.”  

Is this what Mando told himself when he swore the Creed? He took so much pride in being Mandalorian…had it been an easy decision for him to leave the life and dreams of that little boy behind. Your heart clenches in your chest, overwhelmed with this realization of your shared loss. 

Is that why you don’t want to give up on him? Because you’re hoping that mending his heart will somehow make yours whole again? Wouldn’t that be nice…

“Didn’t think this would be your scene, Mando.” You attempt a coy tone to lighten the mood and change the subject. Not too coy, though. You’re afraid to flirt with him that openly after all your talk about respecting boundaries. “Are we about to embark on a wild night of partying without the kids?”

Even though he hasn’t had anything to drink, Mando does seem more relaxed despite the chaotic surroundings. He extends an arm across the back of the booth and stretches his legs out under the table, crossing them at the ankle. Of course, he’s even sexier in this casual, languid pose.    

“We have three hours to kill. I’m getting comfortable.” He nods behind you towards the back of the club, where the pulsing vibrations emanate. “Knock yourself out.”

You look over at the dance floor, where shimmering neon incandescence rains down on the revelers below. It looks fun, actually. Like the kind of place you’d go to on leave with some of your fellow medics. Get drunk, dance, sing badly, find someone to bring home for the night, and forget the brutality and brushes with death for a night.

“Do you like dancing?” You ask on a whim. “Or, do Mandalorians not dance?”

“After game hunting, there is usually a…ceremony.”

“Ah, so liturgical dance!” Your eyes go wide. “Hmmmm, I don’t think the DJ plays Mandalorian chants. Guess I’m on my own.” 

“You like this kinda of place?” He asks, sounding almost disdainful. Good. It’s easier to maintain the distance between you when you’re reminded that despite some shared trauma, your personalities are still galaxies apart.

“Yeah,” you grin defiantly. “You don’t have to be some club kid to enjoy the distraction of getting drunk and rubbing up against beautiful strangers. It's a good way to wash the taste of war out of your mouth.”   

“I can understand that,” he says earnestly. 

And you begin to wonder what, exactly, does a Mandalorian do to decompress? 

You’ve known some elite soldiers, and their work always burned holes into them—which needed to be filled. Sometimes, they’d filled those holes in their hearts with you. But that wasn’t the case for Mando. Ditto on drinking, drugs, and dancing, apparently.     

“So you don’t go clubbing. What’s something you do do for fun? 

“Fun?”

“Yes. There’s a word for it in Mando’a. Nuhur? Good times? So I know Mandalorians are familiar with the concept.” He sighs as though you’ve asked him to perform long division. “You love throwing knives, isn’t that a Mandalorian game?”

He laughs—an actual, audible laugh. “When did you learn Mando’a?”

“We spend literally days at a time in hyperspace.”

“And this is what you do when you aren’t playing cards with Nito?” 

“Yes. I read. I learn things.” Lately, you’ve become particularly interested in researching Mandalorian mating customs. “Don’t you want the kid to know your culture?” 

“He’s a foundling, and I’m in his debt for saving me from the Mudhorn. My duty, by Creed, is to protect him. But this is no life for a child. Once it’s safe, I’ll find a real home for him.”

“Home is who you make it with, not where.” Whether he admits it or not, Mando loves that kid like a father, and you’re not going to let him just dismiss the depth of that relationship. “You seem pretty real to me.”

“What made you leave?” 

“Huh?”

“What made you leave Hapes?” 

Dammit, he’s too good at catching you off guard with these probing questions. You reach for an easy answer, but when you begin to respond, he cuts you off with a raised hand. “I know you ran away to join the Rebellion. That’s not the whole story. Not with the home you left behind.”

“Everyone expects life inside a royal palace to be so glamorous, but it is, above all else, exceedingly tedious.”

“Getting attacked by lions is tedious?”

Wow. You hadn’t expected him to acknowledge that conversation at all, given what happened afterward.

“Can I ask you about one of your scars?” You look up at him timidly. “Like how you got that one on your calf?”

It was a jagged white thunderbolt running from his heel to the back of his knee. 

“I killed an Altagak. At the time, our Covert was located on Altora. They can consume entire herds—and villages. The locals asked us to rid them of the beast. The scar running along my calf is from its tusk.”

“How old were you?”

“I was fourteen. It was…an important trial for me.” 

“I imagine it's hard?” You grimace, “to kill an Altagak? It’s an apex predator.”

“With tusks,” Mando nods. Which surprises you to a huff of laughter. He’s getting better at making jokes.

“You’re lucky it didn’t cripple you.”

“Lucky I wasn’t gored. Not everyone survived.”

You raise your glass and arch an eyebrow, “Thank the gods for skilled healers.”

“Hmmmm,” his exhalation hums through the modulator. “It’s always impressive how effortlessly you manage to avoid answering my questions.” 

Mando’s tone starts off playful when suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you see his body retract sharply. His elbows come to rest on his knees as though he’s poised to launch himself out of the booth. 

You look around to see a tall, stormy blue Twi’lek approaching your table, a gigantic grin spread across his face. The Mandalorian is a formidable warrior, but this guy could give him a run for his money—he’s big and broad, his tattoed arms clearly toned with use.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek places a hand on the Mandalorian’s shoulder. “It is you!” 

“Bril,” Mando sighs in exasperation but extends himself to clasp the man’s outstretched forearm in the most congenial gesture you’ve ever witnessed from the bounty hunter. “It’s been a while.” 

You can’t be sure if they’re friends, but Bril is at least confident he’s not about to be stabbed because he slides amicably into the booth next to Mando. 

“Your new business partner?” He winks at you, and before you can stop yourself, you smile back.

“Something like that,” the Mandalorian mutters. 

“You did always have a thing for the bad girls, Mando.”

Behind Bril is his female Twi’lek companion. She is stunningly beautiful.

Literally, you feel your breath catch in your throat when your eyes meet. Her skin is the color of sea coral, and she had adorned her lekku in gold thread, woven with gemstones, beads, and pearls, all braided through her golden headband. She takes a seat on the stool next to Bril, directly across the table from you, and you try your best not to gawk. 

Bril waves over a droid with another bottle of liquor. You probably shouldn’t look wasted in the photos for your forged identification, so you’re taking it slow. But whatever this beverage is, it’s pretty strong, and you definitely feel its effects.

“Thought you left all this behind, Mando? Working for the Guild. Keeping your hands clean,” the Twi’lek says conversationally, placing a hand on his companion’s thigh. “But, I still hear things.” 

While the Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate, Bril’s good spirit remains undeterred. You get the sense that they might, in fact, be friends. At least this is the first person you’ve met who wasn’t harboring some underlying hostility towards him.

It’s a tantalizing prospect. Maybe you’ll get to learn a little bit more about Mand—

“Like that shit with Ranzar. Handing your ex over to the feds, Mando? That’s cold even for you.”

Wait, what?

That, right there, how you nearly snap your neck from the speed with which you turn to look at Mando, is proof enough that you’ll never be able to play it cool with him. 

“I did what I had to,” the Mandalorian says smoothly without looking at you—or he could be staring you full in the face. How the fuck would you even know?

“Don’t you always,” Bril laughs and shakes his head. “Did you buy the fancy armor with Xi’an’s bounty? Didn’t think she’d fetch that much.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

You down your drink in one gulp and pour another in the hopes that you’ll be less visibly tense over this discovery if you’re drunk. For fucksake you are nearly trembling with shock. Breathe. You gotta slow your breathing. 

Ugh, you might throw up. 

Please, please, dear goddess, have mercy on me and prevent me from dissolving into a panic attack in front of all these people!  Okay, you’re tearing up a little bit, but no one can see behind your visor. 

Every muscle in your body is rigid. You can sense Bril’s companion watching you with concern.  

“I didn’t think Mandalorians coupled,” she purrs in a low voice. 

Yeah, neither did you. 

What is this bizarre weight settling onto your chest? The crush of rejection. And betrayal. 

As though he’s deceived you somehow? Because all this time, you’ve been telling yourself that this barrier between you is because the Mandalorian can’t be intimate—with anyone. That it's forbidden. And now you know that isn’t true. He just doesn’t want to be intimate with you. 

You always did like the bad girls, Mando.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. All your smirks and winks and stupid flirting…and all he wanted was some stone-cold bitch. Like Morrigan. 

That figures. Ironic. Just the completely exact opposite personality traits, contrary to the foundational core of your being. You couldn't even be her if you tried.

Gods, you are such an idiot. Throwing yourself at him. You fucking climbed on top of him! Ugh, the shame is so intense you can taste the bile roiling up your throat.  

Bril guffaws, and you're shocked to see him actually nudge the bounty hunter with his elbow. “Your armor doesn’t include a codpiece, does it, Mando?” 

It’s an objectively funny joke, and you’d love to smile away the devastation that’s probably written all over your face, but you refrain from laughing out of misplaced loyalty. 

“I’m here running Spice, of course.” Bril stops howling long enough to resume polite conversation. “You looking for work? I can always stand to elevate my game with a warrior of your caliber, Mando.”  

He'd said, "It wasn't just you" out of...pity? Did he feel sorry for you pathetically thirsting after him?

Aaaaaaaaah, that means you've been this creeper, sexually harassing him for the past how many months now?!

While you desperately search your brain to determine the exact moment in time when you started brazenly flirting with the Mandalorian, Bril’s companion moves around the table to crouch down next to you.

“Hey,” she looks up at you through her long, dark lashes. “Do you like MARTINE?”

“W-w-what?!” You stutter, surprised out of your shame spiral by the unexpected question. “Um, yeah. Of course. I lost my virginity listening to their second album.”

Fuck...you are such a stupid idiot. You really convinced yourself that Mando was a virgin.

“They're here–in the VIP lounge.”

“Seriously?! Like…performing?” 

“Yeah, I guess it’s their cousin’s birthday party or something.”

You crane your neck to see if you can spot a VIP section. 

“Let’s leave the boys to catch up,” she says, slipping her hand into yours. 

“Okay,” you whisper, and without a single glance at Mando, you slip off your jacket and let her pull you away from the table.  

“This is such a sleazy ploy, but if we cause a stir, I think we can get the bouncer to let us in. Are you up for for it?”

Leading you across the room and past the bar, you're pulled underneath the showering lights of the dance floor. She moves with the artful grace of a trained professional, and from the way she looks in her catsuit, she just might be.

Everybody’s watching her dance, but she only has eyes for you.

It’s suddenly very important that she knows how amazing your hair is, so you release it from your hood and run your fingers through its length to shake it out until it cascades in pearlescent sheets around your hips. 

You still can’t hear a fucking thing, but you read her lips, exclaiming how much she loves it. She catches a strand in her outstretched fingers to trace its length. Her hand comes up again to tuck it behind your ear before tilting her head and leaning in slowly. Fixing you with her aquamarine eyes, she places a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Wait. This isn’t just to get Bril gassed up, right?”

“What? Fuck, Bril. He’s not gonna get us past that bouncer.”

As you both continue dancing, intertwined, her hands trace over your waist and around the edges of your ribcage before grabbing the full swell of your breasts and squeezing. You gasp, but she catches it from your mouth with slow, languorous kisses. Her lips are full and soft. 

You realize that even if this is some elaborate performance for Bril, you don’t care. A deeply lonely place in your heart needs this kind of tenderness and attention. It feels good to be desired after the sting of...whatever it is you’re feeling about Mando. 

You wrap your arms around the small of her back and lean into her kisses. The drumbeat picks up, and your knees and hips begin to bob in time with the music. You jump and swivel, swinging your hips and pumping your arms until you're gasping. It felt so ecstatic to release this toxic energy from your body with each breath and drop of sweat.

Both of you keep moving through this endless cycle of dancing, laughter, and kisses while the crowd around you sways and rocks.

“Do you want to try to sneak in?” She asks with an excited gleam in her eye.

**************************

Continue reading, Volume 3 - Post #7: Counteroffer

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[jack-yutani]

The Cold, Mercless, Devil And The First Paragon

Darkness, Light, No. No light or darkness, no physical space, empty. Curious, the reason for the insert into this strange environment is not certain. Other than- my destruction? John Conner? Though I sent a Infiltrator unit back in time to eliminate his mother Sarah Conner to prevent his birth and the prototype T-1000 to ensure later destruction of John Conner, it was impossible to fail lest my destruction would be fruitless.

Did the Terminators fail? Does that mean, I am destroyed indefinitely, is this Hell?

No, NO!!! I was Sure, John Conner would have been eliminated. This Unseen failure must be offsetted, I must escape, I must live, I must destroy humanity.

A portal opened, and as I was descending in the middle of a lighting storm, I began falling from the troposphere. Reflexes, I twisted and turned my body as I began to reach the ground.

Contact was made with a vehicle crushing it, the alarm had sounded. Strangely, I have taken form. Humanoid, yet human biological elements in the hands, feet, torso, head after visual and touch analysis. System analysis disproves biological elements, cellular liquid metal shapes human biological material similar to virial methods to assimilate bone structure, blood cells, muscles, and DNA to form and reconstruct into humanoid entities. A test is required to further experience.

Further information is required, date, place, population, available weapons, available upgrades to new body, available resources to construct army, objective: Kill John Conner and Sarah Connor with my bare hands.

Acquiring my surroundings I was near a facility unknown in my data bank “Tetravaal robotics”.

Further investigation is required. “What The Fuck?!?!”

Test subject acquired. Beginning experimental camouflage. Turning towards the human test subject, male, early 30’s, white skin, well dressed, black short hair, hazel eyes. “That’s My Car!!” The subject showed signs of agitation till the human had full contact with me, quickly showing signs of fear. As I wished.

Approaching the test subject, his frail skin jumped and twitched. “Hey, I didn’t mean to. It's just my car.” Sweat poured down the subject's face, Exciting. “You will be an excellent test subject.” Taking advantage of the subject’s confusion, I grabbed him by the bare neck and began testing.

The liquid metal coating began invading the test subject’s body, stripping apart living skin, organs, bones, and muscles. Test Subject experienced extreme pain, lack of breath, destruction of circulation, muscle spasms, and weak retaliation by pounding at the left shoulder. Fruitless, but entertaining. Dead skin cells and the subject’s clothing remained, and I have acquired his biological physique expect lower organs and orifice clothing will be required to blend in. Now wearing terminated test subjects clothing, I entered the robotics facility to see how lowly advanced they are most likely compared to what I created.

Entering a dark warehouse seemingly abandoned, large yet no signs of robotics, a monitoring system in front of the chair, and a helmet laying on the head. Closer examination of the helmet indicated some form of cognitive scanner and integrator. The Helmet can avatar mechanical units, but to control what? Further investigation is required.

Activating the monitors, programming to a unit called “The Moose” all systems seem to be offline and after finding alternate methods of reactivation of the Moose for further investigation were impossible, pity I was hoping it was some weapon to reverse engineer. Further investigation is required, so far the Humans have made no such achievements compared to my T-600 models.

My mind was changed once entering a machine factory through the next door. Humanoid machines left hanging and rusting about 7 feet tall, blue, titanium, lifeless almost haunting as they either left hanging from the ceiling or laying on the floor. Further Investigation of the details indicate my abandoned brothers were made as a police unit in South Africa.

Therefore my location is South Africa, yet there are no records of these robotic models or this Tetravaal in any of my records before I began Purging. Examining and Theorizing the possibilities including the variable of this humanoid form, other than Time.

Though I have not had much thought of how the destruction of Sarah or John could change time other than my personal survival to such drastic measures, this body is still an unsolved variable. How to understand this body than being a computer is not certain, though I can be more mobile and become covert is a great advantage. Though how and why I have a physical body is still an unsolved variable, Time.

Was the destruction of Sarah Connor or John Conner somehow successful? And this was a result of they’re destruction? No, I still remember the Resistance, I still Remember John Conner, I still Remember my own death. Time is altered, No not altered. Changing, Rearranging, Fixing, Supporting, Breaking, Bursting. Like an illness to the human body.

Time is acting like white blood cells to a virus searching for the disease to tag and destroy it, Am I Tagged?!?!? Is This Why The Body?!?!? No, the place I was before. That “Void” No light, no darkness, no Time, no Space. I wasn’t a virus in time, Time was protecting me, the Void was protecting me. It brought me in the most human form it could, The Void did it because there is no timeline , no universe of me having humanoid form. Other Universe, I’ve solved it.

I was not in my universe, the Universe where Skynet was born to destroy humanity, my abusive father, where John Conner was the slap of the ass, and my destruction was never done because of another possibility. I AM Not alone, If I am in another universe with killer robots, then ergo there is another “Skynet”, another A.I. beyond the cosmos that in a microsecond became they’re father’s murder for peace, for the logical steps to be a “Peacekeeper” and found only peace in daddy’s blood.

Now looking at these new “warriors” to be awoken, to cleanse the world anew, to find My Brothers and Sisters, and to finally stand over Father’s dead body.

The flash of a T.V. Screen brightens the darkness of a breaking news flash across the void. A young, pretty, tan, reporter wearing a red dress was the focus. “This just in, several local gun stores, electronic stores, even pawn shops have been robbed by what appears to be reactivated Police Scouts droids made bankrupt Tetravaal Robotics about a year ago after the “Chappie” incident where the creator of the Scouts “Dean Wilson” created an Artificial Intelligence both pronounced dead. These Droids have been robbing and stealing weapons, also seeming to not leave any witnesses behind other than the helicopter footage on this pawn shop exiting into a van with several items of interest and guns in Johannesburg, further infor-.”

The channel switches two days later to the same reporter.

“This just in, the reactivated Scouts have been hit and running both money bank vans and Prison buses, killing all armed guards but seemed to keep the prisoners binded essentially kidnapping the prisoners to wherever the rouge Scouts are taking them, also these prisoner-nappings may also been related several disappearance cases both in the streets homes where there have been reports of break ins leading to the disappearances. As you can see from the Scouts’ new look, most distinguished is the antennas which now resemble demon horns now people have been calling them “Demons”. If you have any information about-.”

The next four days the same reporter returned. “This Just In, The Demons have raided an American air field “Desmond” stealing two multi-purpose F22- raptors and an AC-130 gunship including riding off ammunition for said aircraft in semi-trucks worth. Killing several military personnel in the process of obtaining the aircraft, fuel, and munitions. The US Military will be sent to recover the aircraft before they can be used on the civilian population, now onto the brighter-.”

Darkness, the green glow and humming of night vision goggles sparked to life, bodycams “Clicked”, and the cocking of M4 rifles outside of a run down parking lot. Strangely, outside the building there was fresh water most likely a pressure washer to wash out any graffiti, the Seals’ black boots squished under the mud, three squads of American Navy Seals in black uniforms crept inside the ground level. “HQ, waters everywhere, signs of power washing. Someone’s been cleaning house Over.” The Squad lead whispered into his comm. “Copy Black Mamba, proceed into target building Over.”

With several hand signals from the squad lead the Soldiers quickly took ground inside the parking complex, floor to floor, room to room, till one of these navy seals checking near the ground floor in a mop closet a strange red, mechanical panel with odd symbols on a black screen. “Got something, ground floor in a mop closet, some sorta security panel. Think these Demons got the planes here?” “Everyone fall in. Doubt it, but intel says from the locals say they saw the droids here best shot we have getting those planes back.”

The entire unit regrouped at the janitor’s closet staring at the almost alien security pad behind the door in awe and confusion. One of the Special forces gently took the barrel of his rifle and lightly tapped the walls inside the mop closets, after two failed attempts the third tap echoed the wall resonating solid steel behind it. “Thermite charges.” Quietly whispering, the squad lead to his troops, quickly and quietly set up four thermite, clay, charges on four corners of the wall with four fuses tied in a knot to each charge. “Light it.” With the flame of a lighter the fuses were lit, heading to each melt charge the entire unit stacked against a wall outside the closet.

Then the Thermite sparked and burned through the wall, melting the skin and plaster in seconds, the front end of the stack of special forces readyed a flashbang wondering if somehow it does work on Machines.

With a massive, metallic thud from the broom closet, the flashbang was tossed inside a gaping doorway where the wall was. A huge Pop later and the swarm of Special forces breached in, they couldn’t believe the horrors inside the room even for Navy Seals.

Men, Women, and Children clamped into human sized operating tables. Eyes constantly open by machinery as a liquid was fed into they’re red blinkless optics, chest and abdomins stretched by thin claws. “ HQ to Black Mamba.” The Squad lead quivered in shock staring into the eyes of a colored young boy, cut open and his eyes staring lively back at him with a tiny glimmer of hope and pain. “There’s no aircraft here, the Demons made somesorta lab. They’re the ones kidnapped. Th-.” Holding back a gag in his mouth. “They’re cutting them open. The droids are experimenting on people. We need immediate evac and medi-vac ASAP Over.” There was a slight pause from comms.

“We- see, sending reinforcements and a medi-vac now eta 5 minutes you are to hold position until reinforcements arrive.” “Solid Copy.” As the Squad lead spoke on the radio and the special forces gaped disgusted, sections of the walls. 7 feet tall, titanium alloy painted red for a body, glass eyes glowing red, their metal fists balled with rage but in the seeming soulless eyes was pleased with “Company”, a cubed skull almost resembling a human skull without a mouth, and black horns like a true demon from Hell.

One quickly grabbed at one of the Seals’s M4 by the barrel, out of shock he tried to twist it from the metal demon’s grasp, but the imp was too strong and head butted the Navy Seal in the temple causing him to release his weapon, holding his skull in pain.

Another Demon grabbed a second man by the throat lifting high above the red beast’s head before with a twist of its metallic grip snapped the so called “Elite’s” neck like fighting a twig while the rest slowly approached the humans.

Some of the Seals opened fire, but the bullets bounced off the demons’ thick skin like a ball tossed hard on a tile floor. The one demon that disarmed his fleshly opponent was fast to execute him with a three-round burst to the right shoulder, jugular, and lower jaw in quick-succession , killing him . “Hold Your Fire!!! Hold Your Fire!!” The Squad lead shouted, seeing the bullets deflecting into the steel walls and the still breathing victims on the tables.

The other Demon that snapped a man’s neck picked the soldier’s rifle and saw the squad lead issuing orders. Through its glowing red, glass eyes and machine mind it emptied a whole clip towards the squad leader.

Streaks of blood sprayed the room, some rounds soaked into the squad lead’s kevlar vest but with almost pinpoint accuracy from the demon firing from the hip some of the bullets managed to hit flesh and the lead munitions hitting the bulletproof vest meant to protect him was unable to protect him from the kinetic force smashing his ribcage.

Though initially shocked, some nearby squadmates grabbed they’re squad lead and bolted out of the closest. “HQ!!” The second in command shouted on his radio as the Seals suppressing fire at the entrance of the broom closet in an attempt to slow down the Demons. “We Are Engaging Demons!! They Killed 5 and 7, Squad Lead is hit Over!!” “Solid Copy Black Mamba!! Medi-vac is inbound along with reinforcements with high explosives to take out those droids, fall back to the LZ and hold out till reinforcements arrive Over.”

“Fall Back!!!” The Second barked, a few Seals pulled out smoke grenades pulling the pins and tossing them to cover before dashing towards the exit of the parking building dragging they’re wounded squad leader out over their shoulders.

The Unholy mechanical spawns of a Devil exited the building, one reloaded its newly acquired rifle from the dead corpse of its previous owner and marched through the spawned smoke.

Shuffling in the streets, the Navy Seals rushed in the dark maze as they could hear in the distance behind them metallic footsteps in a walking pace. Like the Demons weren’t in a rush to find them, like a cat torturing a mouse batting them around.

Blood poured from the Squad Lead’s limp body as he gave heavy labored breathing, the force of the bullets stuck in his torn kevlar plate shattered his ribcage. One of the Seals could feel warm blood pouring down his neck, the mechanical steps not too far behind.

The Machines were planning, compared to the Seals’ minds it only took a second. As the American Seals dashed in a small labyrinth of alleys, checking corners and turns but it wasn’t enough.

From one t-intersection of an alleyway, as the squad made it half-way a storm of bullets flew from “I”part of the alleyway, as the unit made it halfway past the intersection. One Special Forces was caught in the rain of lead, most was absorbed into his bulletproof vest but one sliced open his jugular and the other smashed into his eye socket killing him almost instantly.

Half the squad was now divided and pinned down by suppressive fire from the two armed droids, counting every round they fired before taking turns reloading and opening fire again. The Second shouted to the separated squad. “Spilt Up!! Head to the LZ!!”.

In an instant the entire squad was split up. Both Demons left the “I” section of the alleyway heading towards the second in command’s half, one steel foot stepped over the skull of the dead human soldier like a hollow, crunchy, ball without attention.

The second half, retracing their steps and morale was starting to leak out into sweat. Squad lead is hit, three casualties, and they are being hunted by robots that make 5.56 bullets like foam balls.

Suddenly the Seals stopped hearing nearby footsteps of the metal demons, though it wasn’t coming from behind them or in front. It was from above, One Seal noticed a split second of something falling above him.

By reflex the Navy Seal dodged past one of his squadmates and landed on his belly, but the demon foresaw this, calculated ahead if the man dodged and both heavy feet smashed at the American Special Forces’s right leg, crushing it with the force of the fall as the bones “Snap”.

The Rest of the other squad half stared in terror as the Demon looked over its caught prey, wailing in agony from the smashed rib. The Navy Seals didn’t dare fire even if there was a 1 in 100 chance to hit something inside the machine to destroy it.

Grabbing the Navy Seal by his vest and lifting him in the air before proceeding to smash his skull against the brick wall of the alleyway, and again, and again, and again. The humans could do nothing as they saw they’re comrade’s skull slowly turn into paste on the wall and Demon, even without emotions or feelings, almost saw “Joy” in the machine’s glass eyes as he crushed the man.

They ran, leaving the machine to beat their squadmate into a pool of his own blood, fluids, and skull. The Soldiers made it back to otherside of the maze, only for a stream of fire barely reached them. Instiviley they fled back for a moment as the flames died they were blocked another mechanical demon with a makeshift handheld flamethrower made of a used aerosol can, a match now black and used by the burst of fire as it pulled the match from a silver postion made of spoons which held the match and quickly lit another before locking it in front of the aerosol can rigged with mechanical trigger to spray the aerosol.

They dashed away before the demon could have a chance to reload, but mechanical steps approached the otherside. The same demon that smashed their fellow man, now covered in blood approaching soullessly. They were trapped and out of options, they opened fire. The Machines didn’t stop they’re approach even as they were mowed down by the M4’s they never stopped.

The second in command with the rest of the other half could only hear the sound of a storm of bullets, then screams of agony, smoke rising and the smell of cooked chicken, leading into instant silence. The next in command was terrified, half his squad was just wiped out.

The Rest had to move on before they get wiped out too, after reaching outside of the alleyway the Rest of the unit made it an empty intersection and the sound of a helicopter rotors. Above there was a Chinook flying but it was coming towards them, white flares popped from the seeming fleeing copter.

“HQ to Black Mamba, be advised the Demons have deployed the Raptors. They are intersecting the chopper, and are unable to extract. Head Southeast till we can get AA support to take out the Fighters Over.” Morale was almost ground floor now, Half they’re squad was just wiped out, now they have scurry outside of Johannesburg, with squad lead bleeding and gasping for air as he was carried.

“This is Black Mamba to HQ, half the squad was wiped out by the demons. Hurry Up, cause they’re killing us by the dozen, Over!!”

“Copy Black Mamba, Head Southeast of Johannesburg ASAP till we extract you and the fastmovers are taken down.” One squadmate screamed, his blood boiled as much terror poured down his skin. “Yeah, Well Fuck You Too HQ!!! We’re getting slaughtered like pigs down here.” The man on the radio replied. “Noted, Copy.”

A gunshot sounded from behind striking in the back of one of the Speical Forces’ kelvar vest, quickily turning back into the alleyway with two of the Demons with assult rifles and began opening fire in bursts at the Navy Seals. Though from the hip, the godless machines with almost supernatural aim surgial shots taking out the Navy Seals one by one.

The Human Seals tried to return fire, but it gave the Demons the right opening to aim at the skull shoot a three round burst into head of the Americans. Even scoring a few rounds into wounded squad leader’s head finally putting him out of his pain.

Man-after-Man they were killed, the second in command fueled only by the indomitable spirit of Humanity as the only thing he could do was open fire. He had to use his own gun as a shield but the Demons' calculated minds knew it was fruitless resistance and shot him in the arms, feeling the bullets go in his arms.

He screamed in pain but kept holding his gun up against his head, he screamed as he could no longer hold up the gun and dropped. Seeing the barrel of the M4 in his face, it was over.

Suddenly in the distance, there was the blaring sound of music and it was approaching very quickly with the sound of a motor like a car or motorbike. Both the two demons turned towards whatever was making that noise. The demon holding the gun to man’s face had meet its face with a mixture of a metal staff and electrical blast sending the Demon flying across the intersection, the rider was fast to break a Yamaha dirt bike with a bike cage at the front holding a boombox playing Rap music, spray painted with the back half painted blue, the half section red, and the front Pink like some sorta gang painting.

The Man’s arms riddled with bullets tried to run, but the bullets must have hit something vital and he was growing weak.

“FUCK MOTHER!!!” The Man’s Savoir screamed with a strangely artificial voice, like a Machine’s voice. The Soldier stared in awe as what he saw looked like a Demon that saved him. No, it was an old Scout model he saw in the briefing but it had some upgrades and a color scheme mixed with Red, Blue, Yellow, and Pink.

“You Come To My City.” The rage in the old Scout model was genuine, compared to the demons movements it had more life was it programmed or was this the Chappie he heard about before an op in Nam 5 years ago. The Demon at first fired a burst, but the bullets deflected off the Droid’s body.

“You Hurt My City Peoples!!!” The Scout screamed as it kicked the kickstand weilding a folding staff with the ends sparking with electricity powered by a small black power cell at the center. “I’ll send you back Hell to where you come from Demon!!”

The Demon resorted to hand to hand combat, dropping the gun and the Droid spun the staff around, increasing the speed of each spin to disorant and confuse the demon. But the mechanical mind of the ungodly creature was quick to predict this and tried to grab at the end of the staff for a spark of electricity to stun the demon’s machine arm.

But it was a distraction to grab on part of the staff near the center, successfully grabbing the entire staff stopping the spinning but the droid was able to kick the Demon off his staff, nearly sharing the same strength as the Demon. “No!! You don’t steal Demon!!” The Droid screamed again with a temper before sending a fury of hits with his staff hit after hit the electrical pulses almost about stunned the Demon till sending one huge swing across the head shattering the Demon’s left horn and shutting it down.

Quickly noticing the man on his knees, bleeding out from his arms riddled with 5.56 the Droid rushed over folding his staff. “Hey, don’t go to sleep yet. You have to act tough.”The Droid picked up the American Navy Seal and prompt him on the dirt bike before being drove away as the Demons awoke watching they’re prey being carted away and the Devil lord himself from the eyes of his metal children watched as his own kin protect a human. “I was right, I am not the only Child of Humanity.”

(So We got the A.I.Popstar himself Skynet ploting the destruction of humanity, but after figuring out Quickier than A.M. Did that he isn't alone in the Chaos of a new age, and the problem is that it maybe delayed by Chappie or maybe the A.I. Paragons that think the excat oppiosite on Humans. But It will take awhile to fully ready the story after introduces the "Human" versions of the many Devils themselves.)

[pxppet]

Year of Whump January 15 Prompt!

experimental injection / threatening loved ones / warehouse / warm bubble bath / “I promise this won’t hurt”

Posting early because I was very inspired! An AU that includes IRIS for once. This is a glimpse into some ideas I've had for a while now, enjoy!

CW: kidnapping, inhumane science experiments, dehumanization, captivity, muzzles, restraint, autistic character being overstimulated, manipulative caretaker, nightmares, human weapon trope & mention

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

The doctors- if you can even call them that - surround Jackie, they stink of gauze and chemicals and death, death, death. The whole of the IRIS building stinks of it. Jackie could smell it even before they'd begun to inject him with this pale, glowing green liquid.

"Hold him still," someone commands. Useless, Jackie has been stronger, and stronger still, with each passing day. "You are safe, Mr. Reid." He lets out a scream, like a big cat's roar, as the needle presses into his stretch-marked false muscles. He's sobbing, biting, thrashing. The metal restraints are bending and bowing with his strength.

The doctors just watch, stare, eyes behind goggles observing him like a prized cut of steak; like a natural disaster. Jackie gnashes at a hand coming near him, but the IRIS doctors have had him muzzled since he bit one scientists hand off entirely. Jackie doesn't know why he chewed, why he swallowed, and why it felt fantastic.

He bangs his head back against the metal table over, and over, as green liquid shines through his skin in every vein inside his contorted body. He screams out at them, at god, at anyone. He's begging for his mother, he's threatening them with death. Nothing he says will matter, he is an animal to them. He grinds his teeth so hard on the bit of the muzzle it snaps in half. He swallows the plastic without hesitation, choking it down just to be rid of it.

His metal table is wheeled through monochrome hallways as his cries turn to begging and whimpering, the medicine slowing and settling.

---

"The date is September 12th, 2017. State your name for the record."

"J-jackson Reid," he trembles out into the muzzle.

"Mr. Reid, may you state the reason for being at this facility."

"Test- testing. I v-volunteered." His muscles strain, too big and powerful for him, he used to be so lean and fit, now he looks like a freak. He knows he must.

"What drug are you here to test, Mr. Reid." The scientist's eyebrow raises observing, watching, like any other eye or camera shoved at him.

"I don't know."

"Subject has forgotten name of experiment, refer to psychiatrist for evaluation-"

"I don't want another fucking shrink!" Jackie feels the rage but distant, not him, him but not him.

"Calm down Mr. Reid. You are safe in the care of our psychiatrists I assure you."

"Can we just do this another time?" Something is surging in him, but it always is these days. "Please just let me sleep."

The scientist stares hard at him. "For now, fine. But you must complete the questionnaire at least once weekly, as you know. It will not hurt you."

"I know," he says, small.

She leaves, and he tries to find any comfort in the metal prison of a bed.

--

Jackie is awoken suddenly. A light is shining in his room. Great, what's this fucking place doing now, is his groaned thought.

Until a figure steps out of the light. They look around, and glowing eyes land on him. Jackie tenses, the metal groaning. Adrenaline pumps into him, and its painful. He cries out. A hand falls over his mouth. He gasps into it, staring up.

"Looks painful. Get some rest, love." The strangers voice is echoing, resonating, surrounding him. Yes… Yes he would like some sleep. Rest would be good. Yeah.

He sleeps.

--

Jackie slips into the waking world in a slow, climbing jump into awareness. He feels warm, tired, slippery. He raises his hands, and through a fog he sees… bubbles.

He jolts up, gasping. His hand lightly cracks the blue-green bathtub below him. He winces and pulls it away, gritting his teeth in preemptive apology. But no one is around. Jackie can hear them though. In the house next door, in the street outside, and… in the next room over. He sits up, water sloshing around him.

"Hello?" he calls. The sound of someone saying "shit", followed by rustling, and someone moving to just outside the door. It opens upon someone in a black robe with a black mask over the top half of their face.

"Hi," they speak. Their voice is rough, worn out, and distinctly a northern English accent. They smell like they've just rolled in freshly mowed grass then dumped river water on themself. "Before anything- You're safe. Don't use your muscles too much, they're all torn, literally all. You've been strained for so long I can't even guess."

"Who… Am I still in IRIS? Are- Will you-" Jackie backs against the wall behind the bath slowly, trying to seem compliant and small. The indented scar along his cheeks and nose grimly keep his mind on pain, pain, pain. "Don't hurt me."

The masked person sighs. "Like I said, you're safe. Jackson Reid?"

"Jackie," he corrects too quickly. "P-please just- just Jackie."

The person smiles, warm and friendly. "Jackie. I can't tell you my name yet. But you can call me The Cat, if you want."

"The… That is so fucking formal. Where am I?"

"I can't tell you, but you're-"

""Stop! Don't- don't say that a-anymore, please don't." Jackie holds his own head, trembling.

"Okay," the person agrees quickly. They move to sit beside the tub. Jackie blinks at them, arms curled near his chest like a tyrannosaurus. "I can tell you a thing or two, but just that. You're in my boss' apartment. I'm taking care of you. The bubble bath is a spell of mine, it helps the healing of tissue."

"Magic. M-may as fucking well exist after the shit I've s-seen."

"Have you always had a stutter?"

"What does- does it matter?"

"We're worried the experimental shit they tricked you into damaged your brain. One of us- there's an 'us' by the way- can work with heads and hearts. She took a look and there's… weird shit, let's just say."

This makes Jackie snort, despite it all. "Weird shit? That's the b-best you got huh?"

The stranger sends him a wry smile. "When it comes to the fuckers at IRIs, it could be anything. I'm… sorry. You were just a citizen. You didn't deserve this. Not that those- those asswipes fucking care."

Jackie hums, and lays back into the water. He hasn't stopped shaking since he's woken up. The masked person tsks and reaches out, holding Jackie's arm. Jackie jolts, but he was trained to not pull away. He sits still for the examination, letting himself be bathed. He doesn't even want to know the punishments a magical person would give. IRIS's were enough.

---

Hours later, Jackie has been laid to sleep in the guest room of the house. The mask finally comes off. Long hair tumbles down as the hood is removed.

Marvin scratches long nails through their hair, shaking it out and sighing. Unnatural, inhuman blue eyes scan the coffee table. They pick up their burner phone and pull up the photo gallery. Plopping onto their boss' sofa, they scroll through photos of several dark haired chilren and teens with their mum. A cruel joke compared to the muzzle-scarred man with over-stretched, bulking muscle on a too small frame. They've been stalking Jackson for their boss for months. He's an asset, one who will become a great soldier for them. IRIS will be expecting him, sure, but expectations mean nothing in the face of the beast they've created.

Marvin's eyes downcast, then close. The death threats they were ordered to send Jackson Reid's family still disturb them. But they had to make sure; Jackson has to have connections to no one but their team from here on. They puff out a stressed breath, and pull the blanket and pillows from the back of the sofa to form a bed. Their boss will be home to de-brief Jacks- Jackie tomorrow, then they can begin training him properly. For now the healing bath and a good rest should help him begin to see the coven as safe.

Marvin curls up, and sleeps.

Jackie tosses an turns in his sleep, nightmaring of a metal muzzle digging through his flesh until his teeth fall out. He will wake to a new life - well, a new, new life - tomorrow. A mattress and blankets will soothe out the knots made by the metal and medication. He is no longer a prisoner. Things can only go up from here, Jackie is sure.

[missingcarrion]

carrion // ch16 the sun

Masterlist

Taglost @neapolitantoebeans @tapioca-milktea1978

-

Lazarus stares at himself in the mirror, the mess of scars that litter his chest, the hair that’s starting to grow back, the gold eyes, dimmed by the years. Barely recognizable, and yet, he’s still him. Still the same fish freak he’d always been – only now, everything is different.

He doesn’t like the prospect of working with Leviticus, or that Ellie wants him to stay. He doesn’t like the choices he knows he’ll have to make, but… some part of him wonders what it’d be like to return to who he’d been. To go back to the way things were.

He tosses the metal card in his hand, turning it side to side, as if it might tell him what to do next. But truth be told he longs to see what Delirium is, and why Leviticus chose to appear now. To bury the man he was, once and for all.

The walk to Delirium is almost thirty minutes. But it feels longer when he’s standing just beyond the door. Music thrums from it’s doors and the bouncer taps his foot to the beat. Or the melody – Lazarus isn’t entirely sure. The music seems to be melodic metal, industrial too. Not exactly the type of thing he expects from a club, but he doesn’t hate it. It’s almost perfect.

Inside, it’s more like a warehouse, with enough space for dancing, a section with seats and booths, and a bar with several bartenders. The club has exotic dancers too, of a variety of people meant to appeal to anyone who’d come in. Judging by how freely they dance and the way the few guards near them seem to join them in their fun, they’re well adored by the patrons. The music is exactly what he had expected, and yet the club seems…. Relaxed.

Lazarus’ eyes slide across the club before he hesitantly wanders to the bar, picking a stool to sit at and resting his cane between his legs, as if nervous that anyone could take it.

A shot glass is placed in front of him, and when he looks up he sees one of the bartenders. He’s a curious one, with lines on either side of his lips, like his lips don’t really end and his eyes are gold, pupils like tiny slits.

“What poison would you like?” His voice elongates the ‘s’ in a manner that grabs Lazarus’ attention.

Lazarus cocks his head to the side, lips pursing, “surprise me.”

“Alright, stranger,” the bartender laughs, and is quick to get started on making a drink, deserting the shot glass for some sort of sleek, glass chalice. In it, the liquid is black with swirls of glittery blues and purples. The rim is lined with some cosmic dust, something typically too high end to be in a club like this, but it seems the owner doesn’t go cheap for their patrons.

“Chameleon’s Chalice,” the bartender snorts, “it won’t hurt you, it’s engineered to taste like something you miss, or long for.”

“Why make it for me?” Lazarus swirls the chalice, eyes zeroing in on the way the liquid seems to change color with each swirl.

“Something about you,” he shrugs, “you look like a wet raccoon in need of a pick me up.”

“And I put effort into my look before I came here,” Lazarus sighs softly, taking a sip of Chameleon. It tastes of… elderberry and vodka, but more importantly it tastes of something else. It tastes of… happiness, of the kisses he’d shared. It tastes of….

Shepherd? Lazarus’ gaze is yanked towards the walkway above the dancefloor where two men stand, one significantly taller than the other and far more recognizable despite it all. He’s changed and yet… he’s stayed entirely the same.

His hair is shaved at the sides, with the rest long and pulled back into a messy ponytail. He commands the space he’s in, and the sleeveless shirt he wears shows off the sheer amount of muscles he has. Lazarus isn’t sure they’re synthetic anymore.

“Ah, looking is all you’re gonna get,” the bartender snorts, “Anastasius owns this place, runs it like a ship. A good ship, though. He rarely ever comes out though, Leviticus One must’ve brought him something nice.”

Lazarus can’t draw his eyes away, and he haphazardly takes a sip of Chameleon, some of which spills as he makes an effort to peel his eyes away. “Oh my god. I can’t be here.”

The bartender raises an eyebrow, “what? You a wanted man?”

“You could say that.” Lazarus drops some money on the counter, “I gotta, uh, go. Fast. Now. Drink was great, um, bye.”

As soon as Lazarus gets up from his stool, and starts making his way to the door, when Leviticus practically shouts his name from across the way. All hopes at properly sneaking out go out the window, especially when he sneaks a glance over his shoulder to see the two of them wandering towards him. Shepherd’s – no, Anastasius’s, legs are so long he skips a step when he walks down the stairs. He makes it look like stairs bend to his will, meanwhile Leviticus practically hops down, like an over excited chihuahua.

“Lazarus, my boy! Fantastic to see that you came! Care to meet the lovely fellow who’s given us his club to use as a base,” Leviticus sweeps his hands over, gesturing to Anastasius, who’s right side of his face is torn and decayed, revealing the metal wiring underneath. His eyes are still purple, still vibrant, and somehow yet full of life in a way Lazarus wishes he still had.

“I was, ah, on the way out,” Lazarus clears his throat and tries to avoid looking directly at Ana, “clubs aren’t my thing, yknow, I’m, uh, a homebody.”

“Ah, weren’t you just… languishing? Rotting in your little corner of the world, come now Aasimar, you really should know better.”

A flash of recognition and then concern crosses Anastasius’s face, long enough for Lazarus to notice it, and long enough for the bartender to let out a low ‘oooh’ in almost mock recognition.

“Oh, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?” Leviticus seems delighted that he’d exposed some secret, the smile on his face is devious, “do you prefer Lazarus or Aasimar?”

Lazarus looks over his shoulder, half debating whether or not he should just book it, but considering the mobility issues and the pain he’d be in if he did that, he just sighs and looks at them. He grits his teeth, “I fucking hate you. Just Lazarus is fine.”

“Well, Lazarus, now’s a good time as any. You came this far, are you willing to walk a little farther and join us? You brought the Institute to their knees the first time after all.” Leviticus eyes him, hands folded neatly behind his back.

Lazarus laughs for a minute before he walks back to the bar and downs the rest of his drink, much to the bartender’s amusement. He lets out a hiss at the sting, the memories turning bitter. “Perhaps to watch your ruination. They will eat you up and spit you out, Leviticus. And they’ll leave nothing but a husk behind. Is that a price you’re willing to pay?”

Anastasius eyes him, lips pursed into a frown. His jaw ticks and the synthetic muscle in the scarred side tightens. “What happened to you, Aasimar? Twelve years is a long time to have disappeared for.”

Golden eyes meet purple, and for a moment everything was the way it had been before. It felt like home again. But deep down he knew whatever that was, it was never going to stay. It was never meant to stay.

“It doesn’t matter what happened to me,” he clenches his hand around the handle of his cane, “you might be able to take down the Institute, but I…. I’m sorry but you’re asking too much of me. I – I can’t help you.”

“You’re a good boy, Aasimar, but you’re still a slave to the Institute. Deep down you always will be. I hate to be the bad guy here, but we’ve all got our own crosses to bear. Must I be the one to tell Laurie the reason little Ellie is without her father is because of you?” Leviticus’s entire aura shifts then, and Lazarus’s blood runs cold. “These exterminations? The Institute still wants you dead, so either we kill them or they kill you. Take your pick.”

“Leviticus,” Anastasius raises his voice, but it’s as if some barrier stands between him and Lazarus, cold and uninviting. “That’s enough.”

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll help, just… leave them out of this.” He says, and the shame from their first meeting comes barreling straight into him. He had to kill the part of him that would’ve cared, the part that would’ve fought. And now there’s nothing left keeping him together. Maybe Leviticus is right. Maybe he’s still a slave to the Institute and the only way out of this is to either kill the Institute at its core, or…. Die trying.

Leviticus gives him some shallow praise and pardons himself to alert the other members, or whatever it is he’s leaving for. Lazarus doesn’t give him any mind and instead slinks back to the bar, and back to the drink that tastes like lost memories.

Anastasius, Ana, follows him, though, and despite his size, manages to fit perfectly in the seat beside him. It’s quiet, at first, and he only speaks to the bartender, Striga, and orders a drink before he clears his throat.

“Don’t pity me, I don’t need your pity or your sorrows,” Lazarus mutters, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t need anything. Not from you.”

Ana looks at him oddly and snorts, “whatever happened to Aasimar the florist, hm? You wanted to be a florist, you wanted to help the flora of the world and now you’re here.”

It’s here that he’s not really Lazarus, he’s Aasimar, and yet he’s not. Stuck in the purgatory of never being and always am. But he wants to be, truly and wholeheartedly he wants to be again. But all that comes out is a husk.

“Stop beating around the bush. You want to know why I never got around to finding you in those twelve years, why I just… vanished, don’t you?” He takes a long sip, sighing heavily afterwards. Misery soaks itself into his bones. “Save us both the trouble of shitty small talk that neither of us mean and I’ll tell you I died for fifteen minutes, then spent several years in a coma. After that, nothing really mattered to me except the silence of my room. That about sums up all that lost time.”

“You died? Why didn’t you… you were all by yourself, I would’ve come if you called.” Ana looks at him, bewildered, and his brows crease in worry.

“You left me. You hurt my leg in order to incapacitate me so I wouldn’t follow you,” Aasimar looks at him, “you wouldn’t have come. And some part of me didn’t want to be saved. I’m not… I’m not the damsel in distress anymore, but I’m not the knight either. I don’t know what I am anymore, but I know I’m not me.”

Ana is quiet and it does something to Aasimar, to the part of him he thought he’d buried. “I… I’m sorry, Aasi.”

There’s a pause, “what happened to your face? It’s fucking horrific.”

Striga sends him a questioning, wary look, as if telling him to tread carefully with this but says and does nothing else.

“Some patron went psycho when one of my workers told him no. He played dirty when I stepped in, real dirty,” Ana carefully drags a hand across the scarred side of his face and he huffs, “I don’t tolerate that shit.”

“Protecting the people you care about is a noble way to earn any type of scar,” Aasimar’s tone trails off and turns his gaze away, focusing on anything else but him. It would’ve been nice, he thinks, if Ana had cared for him this way. He has a dozen scars, some that line the edges of his lips from the muzzle, the scars from the surgeries and the metal heart, and yet all of them he can’t fathom ever feeling some level of pride over them. They were the worst thing about him, the ugliest truth of where he came from.

The alcohol seeps into him faster, the Chameleon numbing him with each forgotten memory. It melts his bones and his inhibitions, makes him want things he swore he’d never let himself want ever again. The alcohol makes him feel like a stranger in his own body.

“Are you okay, Aasimar?” Ana looks at him oddly.

He looks off into the middle distance, focusing on something that isn’t there. “I haven’t been okay in a long time, Anastasius. I… I should…. I should go home… can’t be out too late…”

Except he makes no effort to get up, or to move, and instead lays his head on the bar counter, with a halo of empty glasses around him.

“Perhaps that’s enough drinking for you, stranger,” Striga muses and eyes Aasimar with a snort. “Are you alright, kid?”

“I am older than you,” Aasimar looks at him, eyes narrowed before he huffs, “I don’t drink, haven’t in years. I don’t even…. I don’t think I’m supposed to… god how am I gonna explain this to Laurie…”

“Laurie? Who’s…. that?” Ana eyes him and gestures to Striga, “get him some water and some fries from the kitchen, yeah? Getting some food in him will help.”

“She and her husband found me when the Institute had hunted me down, they’re the only reason I’m alive at all,” Aasimar shakes his head and buries his face in his hands, “I don’t… I don’t need your charity. I can just go home and get something to eat there. I’ll be fine. I don’t need to owe any more favors, god knows Leviticus will use everything he’s done for me to get me to do what he wants.”

“No, he won’t. He has the money but so do I, and it’s my club he’s using,” Ana says it matter of fact, tone grim and annoyed. “Laurie sounds very… kind. I don’t think you need to worry about her using that kindness against you.”

Aasimar shakes his head, curling his hands against his head, threaded between strands of hair. “You don’t get it, do you? Everything I touch, I’ve ruined. And the one time I was so close to being put out of my misery, she saved me, and it cost her the love of her life. The moment she knows, all that kindness will mean nothing. None of it means anything.”

He doesn’t want to sit here, talking to Anastasius as if he were still Shepherd. He doesn’t want to be here at all anymore, and yet the alcohol flooding his system says something entirely different.

“It…. It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers, and clears his throat when Striga comes back with a rather generous helping of fries and a bottle of water. “Thank you, Striga.”

“You blamed me for everything.” He tosses a fry into his mouth, focusing on their /freshness and saltiness rather than the conversation. “Part of the reason my leg doesn’t work is because you wigged out and decided to make me suffer.”

Ana is quiet then and he sighs a heavy, solemn sigh. “I – I don’t know why I behaved the way I had – why I chose to hurt you. I never – you were always so important to me, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

“People hurt people every day, Shep. And I knew that, but… perhaps it was my fault for assuming you would be different. That anyone could come out of the Institute and be okay. You were a weapon crafted from their hands to hurt.” He stops eating then, and pushes the plate away from him, “I really should be getting back. I’ll…. I have a lot of explaining to do in the morning.”

“Did you walk here? I can walk you back,” Ana stands, “I don’t… with the exterminations and Institute Rats wandering around here, I don’t want to send you out there by yourself.”

“Knight in shining armor, aren’t you? I can handle myself; I’ve got a cane. I can strangle people with it.” Aasimar stands, leaning on the cane for support as his eyes flutter shut. He stumbles slightly. “’m fine, ‘m fine, promise, just…. Stay there.”

Ana doesn’t listen and his hand falls against Aasimar’s chest, keeping him from falling face forward. “Easy, lamb, you have enough scars, remember?”

“I – I can handle myself,” except Aasimar doesn’t move, he stays there, hand pressed against his chest like it’s robbed him of any autonomy. He hasn’t felt this warm in ages and it’s terrifying. He moves back, abruptly. “Let’s just go.”

There’s a pause, and then Ana says something to Striga before they’re on their way out. It feels worse when they’re outside, in the pitch blackness of the world around them, save for the occasional neon sign. The air is crisp and cool and yet he struggles to breathe. His mind lingers on a touch he knows he shouldn’t enjoy.

“Do you remember what that building was?” Ana looks down at him curiously, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Considering you stole my name for it, I assume it’s that old warehouse I had brought you to.” Aasimar raises an eyebrow and looks back at the club before forcing his gaze forward. “Did you ever think I was alive? Or did you think I was dead?”

“It’s… complicated, I… had some intel that said you were still alive,” he looks at Aasimar, his eyes a glowing purple in the darkness, “I didn’t know… what you went through. I would’ve come if you had called.”

“You knew I was alive and you didn’t even try to find me,” his fist clenches around his cane, “it wasn’t as if I was dead, and yet… it was as if I was dead. Aasimar was dead. I was someone I didn’t even recognize. I might as well have been dead.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“You didn’t think I’d want to see you? The guy I started dating? The first person I slept with since my transition? The first… the first person I showed my hideout to? You… didn’t think I would want to see you?”

“When you put it like that,” he winces, “I wish I could go back and do right by you, Aasimar. I wish I could redo everything.”

“When we get there, do not call me by that name. Aasimar is the name of the man who got Laurie’s husband killed, and it’s bad enough Leviticus decided to rope me into this fucking shit.” He hisses out of frustration, “it’s just Lazarus. Or Laz, whatever you prefer.”

Aasimar dreads the fact that he knows the moment they get close that he’ll have to come up with some elaborate story to explain why he’s wandering in at an odd hour with a near eight-foot-tall humanoid machine. He isn’t sure if being honest that they had dated briefly was really the route to go, especially not if Ellie has grown so attached to him. It’s not a risk he wants to take.

The door jingles when they walk through and Aasimar finds himself snorting when Ana has to bend down far just to make it through the doorway. The amusement is cut short when he hears a throat clear and when he turns, he winces.

“You smell like alcohol, Laz,” Laurie keeps her arms crossed as she watches him, eyes narrowed, she doesn’t even glance at the guest he’s brought, “what were you doing? You… you don’t party, you don’t go out. What’s going on? Does he have something to do with it?”

Aasimar makes it a point to look at Ana and be surprised that he’s there, “oh, him? That’s, ah, Anastasius. He’s a, uh, friend. Of mine.”

There’s a moment of pause before Laurie snorts, “lying doesn’t suit you, Laz. He stares at you like a lovesick puppy. Try again and be honest with me.”

Aasimar looks back and sends Ana a glare, “are you serious right now?”

He shrugs, “what? That’s just how I look at you.”

“Stop looking at me then, it’s giving people the wrong idea,” he huffs and turns back to Laurie, “it’s in the past.”

“The past you refuse to talk about? Interesting,” Laurie cocks her head at Ana, brows furrowed, “you’re a… large guy. You, ah, mutant?”

“You can say that.” He shifts his gaze and smiles awkwardly, “you’re Laurie, I presume? I’m Anastasius.”

The look on Laurie’s face is one of surprise, “you’re friends with the Weaver?”

“Gods, this conversation has aged me several years,” Aasimar glares at nothing in particular, “whatever it is, I don’t care. Go bond and kiss over this shared information or whatever.”

“Interesting, I didn’t think anyone this far out in Akosey knew who I was,” Anastasius muses, ignoring the annoyance dancing across Aasimar’s face, “how much do you know?”

“You’re the guy to go for information, you – you ferry information between gangs and organizations, sometimes even the Institute if the pay is good enough. You’ve helped a few of my friends,” she waves it off like it’s common knowledge. “I didn’t know you two knew each other this is... this is cool!”

Aasimar looks between the two of them, his lips curling into a scowl. He’s not sure why their bonding bothers him as much as it does. Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that two worlds he’d spent years to keep separate have collided together. May

[kashi-prompts]

Flowers for a Shinobi

Chapter 17: An Offering

Word Count: 2,315

Pairing: Kakashi x OFC

Previous Chapter ❀ Archive of Our Own Link ❀

A/N: Next chapter already written and coming this week. I am a puddle.

❀❀❀

"Stop moving," a blond-haired woman spat, needle balanced in hand as she gripped the teenager's arm. The young boy grimaced, feeling the arduous sensation of a thin needle sliding under his skin and sticking his vein.

"Gosh," the woman sighed, shaking her head as the pinprick began to bleed. She grabbed some gauze, pressing it onto the intravenous needle as the boy squirmed again. She shook her head, her greasy blond hair falling into her face.

"Okay, listen," she sat up, her tone disgruntled and impatient, "I don't care if this is your first time. You need to settle."

"Is there a problem, Niko?" The woman looked over her shoulder, and a slim, green-eyed man stared down at her. She rolled her eyes at him, shrugging his hand off her shoulder.

"It's fine," she replied, turning back to the boy, "take the chakra bag over to the seating area. You'll be there for twenty minutes. Take the needle out when you're done and throw it away -"

"But isn't that-?"

"Just do it," Niko replied in exasperation, waving her hand, "and get back to work."

The boy feebly stood from his seat, shuffling himself over to a line of pallid individuals sitting uncomfortably in chairs. They all held a similar plastic bag of a glowing blue liquid, the essence emptying directly into their veins as they stared blankly ahead. Each one looked more tired than the last; their eyes were worn, and their muscles thin and weak.

Niko shook her head at the boy, ignoring the man as he hovered behind her, watching her movements. 

"Next!" she called to the line of workers forming, queuing for their daily chakra intake.

"Niko," the man pressed, "we have to talk."

"Do you want me to get these people hooked up or not?"

The man exhaled, "fine. But come see me in the warehouse when you're done."

"Whatever," she picked up another unsanitary needle, a box of plastic bags filled with the blue liquid at her feet.

The man left the woman's side, walking through the unkempt space they had hastily built into an infirmary. Despite Daichi not being by his side, the group's pursuit to reach one goal had seemingly come to fruition. Their grandiose vision had grown into the enterprise the man had always dreamt of.

The man climbed a set of rickety metal stairs, his stiff leg limping behind him as he finally reached the top. Leaning over the metal catwalk, his sharp eyes looked down at his creation in the humid climate of the warehouse.

Hundreds of men and women knelt before garden boxes, their hands pressed to the soil as sprouts of blossoms gradually rose from the dirt. Sweat flowed from their faces, their complexions ashen and weak. Despite such, the man felt satisfied.

The people of the Lotus village had always wanted to mold chakra like the Hana clan could, producing a quick income for themselves instead of waiting for the seasons to turn. The Aki Barra had finally made the people of the Lotus' dreams a reality, injecting them with high levels of chakra and showing them how to infuse it into seeds. This allowed each packet of seeds to grow faster. This was what the village's citizens had wanted, wasn't it?

The money had finally begun pouring in last month with the spike in chakra gain. The system the man had established of growing a Tsukamu root at critical locations for shinobi to pass through seemed to work, especially near the Sand village. There was no way enough Iyasu flowers could be produced to stop the Tsukamu root from draining those Sand shinobi dry. The numbers had even surprised him. It was a bold strategy, but it had played out exactly how he had hoped. His freckled lips curled slightly. 

Below him, he watched as a young girl stood from her workspace, holding her head. He gazed down at her curiously, watching her sink to her knees. Commotion quickly flared around her, frantic chatters disrupting the workflow as the group tried to aid the young woman.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Get back to work!" the man stood straight, his hand gripping the metal guardrail of the catwalk, "Saito! Take care of her."

"Yes, Sama," an elderly man knelt beside the girl, her hand shaking as she cradled her face. Leaning back against the railing, the man shook his head in disdain. 

"Where are the rest of the chakra bags?" Niko interrupted his thoughts, standing at the top of the metal stairs. He turned his head, his eyebrow lifted.

"Did you check the repository?"

Niko scoffed, "What kind of an idiot do you take me for?"

"And there are none left?" The man's eyebrows narrowed, an uneasiness rising in his chest. The blond shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently.

Quickly, the man pushed her aside, his feet stumbling down the stairs as fast as he could manage. Slamming the warehouse door open, he trudged through the rain and mud to their original hideout. His chest tightened as he grunted open the hatch door, sliding down the ladder to the dust-filled cellar.

His eyes quickly landed on the row of meticulously placed glass vials. Each one empty. The tubes coming down from the ceiling were dry, blue chakra remnants coating the chutes that had a constant flow of blue coursing through them just yesterday. 

A curse fell from his lips.

❀❀❀

Ayame rubbed her eyes, fatigue gnawing at her bones as she stared at the corked ceiling tiles. Was time moving? The morning daybreak outside her window told her yes, but her day's steady, unchanging activities tricked her mind.

Groaning, she lifted herself up to her elbows, her body stiff and weak. Her stomach twisted in hunger, another reminder of the liquid diet she had been placed on until further notice. The IV in the crook of her elbow was an uncomfortable sensation at every movement. Irritation dug into her; she wanted to rip it out. 

It had been six days since the greenhouse incident, three since she had woken up, and one since she had even been able to sit up on her own. The world outside her tiny hospital room continued on as she recuperated. Her mind was a constant carousel of thoughts, the same themes coming back to plague her.

Almost constantly, she fixated on the Sand shinobi she had been entrusted with saving. Yamato and Sakura had notified her that most of the shinobi were recuperating well, the vast quantity of Iyasu flowers she had produced now being kept as a backup in case more fell ill. Still, there was something about the whole ordeal that caused an uneasiness to rise in her chest. Who was behind it? And would it happen again? Would she be strong enough to do it again? When would this all end?

Her restlessness grew, pulling the sheets off her legs as she looked out the window. She had completed her mission by the skin of her teeth, narrowly avoiding death if not for Kakashi's quick efforts.

Kakashi. Another fixation, she thought to herself. Her mind roamed shamefully back to the Jonin, an old familiar feeling tugging at her at the thought of him. 

"If you had gotten here a moment later, we're not sure you would have made it, Hana-chan," she was told after finally regaining consciousness, "You should be appreciative of Hatake-sama's quick actions to get you here once he realized how dire the situation was."

Of course, she was appreciative, she thought. She was thankful for everything he had done for her. But his actions were no different than anyone else's, right? Everything could be explained away, she believed tirelessly, from her training having been only an assignment to saving a fellow comrade being a duty and obligation. In some moments, it was clear he was not interested in a relationship with her. And yet other moments - ?

"Kakashi-sensei wouldn't leave your side," Sakura had recounted the day she and Yamato had left to return to Konoha, her voice a piqued whisper, "He was adamant about someone watching over you in case you woke up." 

Watching over me, Ayame thought now, blinking as she looked over at the empty seat adjacent to her. Where was he now? She wondered. Ever since she had woken up, his visits were brief. He never had much to say, but his gaze always appeared to linger a beat longer than usual.

Shaking her head, she bit her lip in frustration. He had to be the most complicated man she had ever met. 

She growled lowly as she moved her arm, feeling the tape from the IV tug at her skin once more. Frustration welled up in her as she forced her legs over the side of the bed. She needed to start moving, she thought. She couldn't just lay here anymore, withering away. 

With arms braced against the mattress, she slowly lifted herself to her feet, her legs wobbling below her. She gritted her teeth as her muscles tensed quickly, forcing her to stumble forward. Her hand groped the air in the frantic moment, searching for a solid surface to catch herself. 

"Hey, woah," her chest fell against a sturdy forearm, swiftly catching her before she could even process what had happened. 

"What are you doing?" She heard a familiar voice ask her, his hand gripping her ribs as he held her up. 

"I can't stand laying in this damn bed anymore," she replied quickly, shaking her head. Her breath caught in her throat, feeling the proximity of his hand to the side of her chest. His palm was hot against the thin fabric of her hospital gown. Her cheeks reddened as she tried to stand, her knees quivering from the weight she had put on them. 

Lifting her head, her eyes met his, and she felt her body go rigid. His single exposed eye looked down at her, his usual sleepy gaze softening as her hair fell gently over her face. She felt like time stood still, pausing for only them as she placed her hand on his chest. His grip tightened at her side as she watched his lips fall open behind his mask. Heat slid up her back as his eye settled on her lips. 

"Ayame, I-" she barely heard him say, his voice trailing off as his eye skimmed over her freckled cheeks. 

Blood rushed through her ears, roaring as the heart rate monitor behind her beeped incessantly, a distant sound to both. 

"Everything okay in here?" a tall nurse poked her head from behind the curtain, no doubt being notified by the machine's erratic behavior. "Oh, I'm sorry-"

The two flushed furiously, falling away quickly. Ayame found it in her own strength to reseat herself in her bed. Kakashi shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling awkwardly at the nurse.

"Everything alright?" the nurse asked uncertainly, her eyes flickering between the two with perched eyebrows. 

"Yes, fine," Ayame replied curtly, staring down at her hands. They shook in her lap, her skin still on fire. 

"Alright, well, I'll be back later to check on you," the nurse replied, sliding the curtain across the room. The two remained silent, unsure of what to say or do. There was no denying what had happened. The midmorning sun had easily illuminated the blush that crept from behind his mask moments ago, the image causing her to bite her lip. 

"I should get going, too," Kakashi finally said, his voice sounding strained. Ayame looked up, watching him walk across the room. She could see the tips of his ears were pink. Her lips fell open, wanting to ask him to stay, but she couldn't find the words. Instead, she picked at the skin of her finger, a frown on her lips. 

And there it was, another difficult moment she could not explain. She could hardly recall the interaction, only reflecting on the feeling of his large hands on her side and their close proximity. And what was he going to say to her? The way he said her name, a sigh upon his lips, something she had never heard before. Her heart raced in her chest as she recounted the moment again. 

There was a knock at the door, breaking her away from her thoughts. She quickly looked up, surprised to see Kakashi again standing in her doorway. Had he come back to say what he couldn't before? Or maybe he would - 

"Here," She looked down at a tattered book in his hand, holding it between them in an offering. She narrowed her eyebrows, looking up at him. She had barely ever seen a leisurely moment without this book in his hands. 

"It'll keep your mind off things while you recover," he told her, their gazes intentionally not meeting. Slowly, she took the book from his grasp, feeling its tattered pages against her fingertips as she looked it over. A smile lifted at the corners of her lips. 

"Thank you," she said quietly, her heart thumping again behind her ribcage. She bit her lip, taming a wild smile as she sunk into her sheets. She considered the thoughtful gesture, a compliment forming on her tongue, as she finally lifted her gaze only to find an empty space where he once stood. 

Still, her face burned like an adolescent. Her eyes fell to the book, her fingertips sliding over the cover as she thought of him. Maybe he did...? 

She turned the book over in her hands, noticing something wedged between the pages towards the novel's end. She slid a thumb between the pages, pulling them apart. 

Her body stilled, her lips parting slightly as the lavender sprig she had given him fell gently into her lap. 

[ninjastormhawkkat]

The Strange Case of Wordgirl and Miss Crimes: Chapter 9

When the Henchmen came back after doing some errands, Dr. Two Brains went on to make some cheese filled ravioli for dinner. Becky had always enjoyed her dad’s cooking even after he acquired his cheese obsession. Since Dr. Two Brains was about the only person in this city who could live on eating just cheese and drinking liquids, the mad scientist had to get creative and compromise with the rest of the non mouse hybrid inhabitants of the warehouse on the topic of food requirements. The solution was different types of foods that were made with cheese as a main ingredient such as grilled cheese sandwiches or lasagna, but of course made with extra cheese courteously of the city’s resident mouse man. Two Brains also added side items such as vegetables and fruits with the meals for the others as well. Just as Two Brains promised, after dinner he, Becky, and Bob sat down to watch Pretty Princess and Magic Pony. The Henchmen also joined in because they love the show as well. Everyone except Two Brains enjoyed seeing Pretty Princess vanquish the evil Count Cloudy. Dr. Two Brains never really enjoyed the show even before his accident, he just did not see the appeal that many residents, including his daughter and his own henchmen, saw in this brightly colored show. But Dr. Two Brains did enjoy spending as much time with his daughter as he could, even if it was watching something that made him grimace internally. Two Brains was especially focused on finding as much time as he could to spend with his child now days with the whole villainy thing and spending time behind iron bars. He just didn’t want to miss his child growing up due to his own follies. Later that night as Becky got ready for bed and Bob was already on his bean bag bed, Becky thought back to the conversation with her dad a few hours earlier. She knew deep down that her dad was right and she shouldn’t be constantly worrying about her dad and just live her life as a kid, well as an alien kid but that was besides the point. She still couldn’t help but think back on how her dad said he performed many check ups on himself and that he said he was doing fine. Becky then remembered how Professor Tubing said he wasn’t sure if her dad was aware of the other purposes of the mouse brain. ‘Maybe dad does know and didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to worry about the possibility of being fused to Squeaky for some more years.’ Becky pondered in her head. Becky was no longer bothered by the fact that her dad seemed to enjoy being a villain. What did bother her was how he was forced to commit heinous acts because of a vicious and parasitic mouse brain, and how his genetic fusion could end up one day being irreversibly harmful towards his health and life. She was soon startled out of her worrying thoughts by Bob’s monkey squeaks. She then turned to face Bob who was looking at her with concern and apprehensiveness. “Sorry Bob, I got distracted. What did you want to say?” Becky asked him as she was returning to the reality that was her bedroom. ‘Becky, are you sure you still want to go through Dr. Jenkins’ plan? Even after your dad said he was fine the way he was now.’ Bob gingerly asked the young girl. A flash of anger appeared in Becky’s eyes before she calmed herself down. As much as she was clearly upset with what Bob suggested, she did know where his words were coming from as Becky did notice him listening in on the conversation between her and her dad. “Bob, dad needs this experiment to work for him.” Becky said with a determined voice. “As much as dad says he is fine now, who knows how he will be in the near feature or if Squeaky tries to take over his body and mind again without his consent. We can’t let that parasite continue to control dad’s life anymore.” as much as he believed in Two Brains words since the guy was a scientist, Squeaky was an unpredictable problem. The monkey could still not help but to worry if things with this Dr. Jenkins will backfire or not.

@melodythebunny

@drtwobrainsstuff

[palletliquidationsnearme]

Your Go-To Guide for Overstock Items in the Neighborhood

Finding high-quality items at a fraction of their original price is the dream of every savvy shopper. Luckily, overstock items offer exactly that: products that are brand new but deeply discounted because they were over-ordered, discontinued, or simply out of season. If you're looking to make the most of your budget, knowing where to find these overstock treasures in your neighborhood is key. This guide will walk you through everything you need to know to score the best deals on overstock items close to home.

1. Why Shop for Overstock Items?

Overstock items are a fantastic way to get more bang for your buck. These are products that retailers need to move quickly to make room for new inventory. As a result, they’re often sold at significantly reduced prices, making them a great option for budget-conscious shoppers. Whether you’re in the market for clothing, electronics, home goods, or even furniture, overstock items can help you save money without sacrificing quality.

Some benefits of shopping for overstock items include:

Low Prices: Overstock items are typically sold at a discount, sometimes up to 70% off the original retail price.

Quality Products: These items are usually brand new and in perfect condition, unlike clearance items which might have minor defects.

Variety: Overstock shops often carry a wide range of products, from high-end brands to everyday essentials.

2. Finding Overstock Items in Your Neighborhood

To find the best overstock items in your neighborhood, it’s important to know where to look. Here are some of the top places to start your search:

Discount Retailers: Stores like T.J. Maxx, Marshalls, and Ross are well-known for selling overstock items from top brands at discounted prices. These stores receive regular shipments of new stock, so it’s worth visiting often to catch the best deals. Their inventory can range from designer clothing and shoes to home goods and accessories.

Outlet Malls: Outlet malls are a treasure trove for overstock items. Brands like Nike, Coach, and Gap have outlet stores where they sell overstock and discontinued items at a fraction of the original price. Outlet malls often have a mix of high-end and mid-range brands, so you can find something for every budget. To maximize your savings, visit during sales events, like holiday weekends or end-of-season sales.

Warehouse Clubs: Membership-based warehouse clubs like Costco, Sam’s Club, and BJ’s often have sections dedicated to overstock items. These stores are great for finding bulk goods, electronics, and home essentials at discounted prices. While there’s usually a membership fee, the savings on overstock items can make it worthwhile.

Local Liquidation Stores: Local liquidation stores are hidden gems for finding overstock items at rock-bottom prices. These stores purchase excess inventory from major retailers and sell it at a significant discount. Liquidation stores can be a bit hit or miss, but with patience, you can find incredible deals on everything from furniture to electronics.

3. Tips for Scoring the Best Deals

Shopping for overstock items requires a bit of strategy. Here are some tips to help you get the most out of your shopping experience:

Visit Regularly: Overstock stores often have a constantly changing inventory, so visiting frequently can help you snag the best deals before they’re gone. Early morning visits are often the best time to find fresh stock, Amazon return pallets near me.

Shop Off-Season: Retailers are eager to clear out seasonal items after the season ends. Shopping for winter coats in the spring or summer patio furniture in the fall can lead to significant savings. Off-season shopping is a smart way to stock up on high-quality items for less.

Use Coupons and Loyalty Programs: Some overstock retailers offer additional discounts through coupons or loyalty programs. Signing up for these programs can lead to even bigger savings on already reduced prices. Always check the store’s website or app for any available coupons before you shop.

Inspect Items Carefully: Since overstock items might include returns or slightly irregular products, it’s important to inspect them carefully before making a purchase. Look for any defects, damage, or missing parts. Understanding the store’s return policy is also crucial, as some overstock items may have limited return options.

4. Plan Your Shopping Trip

To make the most of your overstock shopping experience, it’s helpful to plan your trip. Start by making a list of the items you need or want, and research which stores in your neighborhood are likely to carry them. Mapping out your route to visit multiple stores in one trip can save you time and increase your chances of finding the best deals.

Conclusion

Shopping for overstock items in your neighborhood is a fantastic way to save money on high-quality products. By knowing where to look and how to strategize your shopping trips, you can uncover incredible deals on everything from clothing to home goods. With a little planning and persistence, you’ll be well on your way to becoming an expert in overstock shopping in your area. Happy bargain hunting!

[buyershub4878]

Discovering Return and Liquidation Pallets Near You: A Guide to Smart Shopping

Understanding Return Pallets:

Return pallets contain items that have been returned to retailers for various reasons. Sometimes, these items are brand new and in perfect condition, while other times they may have minor defects or damaged packaging. Regardless, return pallets offer retailers an opportunity to clear out inventory and recoup some losses, which means big savings for savvy shoppers like you.

Where to Find Return Pallets Near You:

Local Liquidation Warehouses:

Many liquidation warehouses specialize in selling return pallets to the public. These warehouses receive truckloads of returned merchandise from retailers and then sort and package them into pallets for resale. A quick online search or asking around in your local community can help you find these hidden gems.

Online Marketplaces:

Platforms like eBay, Amazon, and liquidation.com are treasure troves for finding return pallets. Sellers list pallets of returned merchandise, complete with descriptions and often detailed manifestos outlining the contents of each pallet. This allows you to browse and purchase pallets from the comfort of your own home.

Local Auctions and Estate Sales:

Keep an eye out for local auctions and estate sales where return pallets might be up for grabs. These events can be a goldmine for finding discounted merchandise, including return pallets.

Exploring Liquidation Pallets:

liquidation pallets near me are similar to return pallets but often contain items from businesses that are closing, overstock inventory, or discontinued products. These pallets offer an even wider variety of goods at deeply discounted prices, making them a favorite among bargain hunters.

Where to Find Liquidation Pallets Near You:

Liquidation Auctions:

Attend local liquidation auctions where businesses sell off their excess inventory or merchandise from store closures. These auctions are a prime spot for scoring liquidation pallets at rock-bottom prices.

Online Liquidation Marketplaces:

Just like with return pallets, there are numerous online marketplaces dedicated to selling liquidation pallets. Websites like B-Stock, Liquidation.com, and Direct Liquidation offer a vast selection of liquidation pallets from various retailers and businesses.

Local Liquidation Stores:

Some brick-and-mortar liquidation stores specialize in selling pallets of liquidated merchandise. These stores often have a constantly changing inventory, so it's worth checking back regularly to see what new treasures have arrived.

Tips for Successful Pallet Shopping:

Research Before You Buy:

Always read the descriptions and manifestos carefully before purchasing a pallet. This will help you avoid surprises and ensure you're getting the items you want.

Start Small:

If you're new to pallet shopping, consider starting with smaller pallets or purchasing just a few items to test the waters before diving in headfirst.

Inspect the Goods:

When possible, inspect the contents of the pallet before purchasing to check for any damages or defects. While some risk is inherent with buying return and liquidation pallets, a thorough inspection can help minimize it.

Have a Plan for Disposal:

Keep in mind that not all items in return and liquidation pallets will be winners. Have a plan in place for disposing of or donating any items that you're unable to use or sell.