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dracoignisworld · 4 years

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From the 2 - 6 Word Starters: “Dance with me?” I wonder what your muse does with it. I’m excited to find out! 💙

Last dance

Daenerys had danced with all of them; Theon, and Tyrion, and Gendry, and Robb. She had even danced with the old science teacher Jorah whose sweaty hands stuck to her waist like tape. By the time the song came to an end, he could barely drag his fingers off of her, and his bow was one of awkwardness rather than courtesy.

But, Jon thought bitterly as Daenerys joined hands with Margaery, and he watched how her pink skirt twirled and fluttered as they jumped around to the upbeat tune of Pharrell Williams’ ‘Happy’, she hasn’t danced with me.

Jon knew that his sixth form prom was never going to be the event that would change the course of his life. Despite Robb insisting on it being ‘the most awesome thing to happen in Liverpool for decades’ - something Jon heard the graduating students say every year - he sensed that it would be just another night to forget.

Now, sat amongst downtrodden confetti and deflating balloons, watching some DJ Daario trying to hide behind the stage as he filled a soda bottle with vodka, Jon knew that only one thing could make these past hours of pain worth it. Only one person could make him stand up from the plastic chair and rock his hand-me-down tux to the ‘UK Top 40’s. And she was currently busy teaching Margaery how to do the dance from the music video, complete with shoulder bouncing and clapping.

“They look stupid,” Theon said as he collapsed into the chair next to Jon. He was panting, droplets of sweat running down his forehead to his wisp of a moustache. He grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped himself down.

“You look stupid,” Jon frowned, “you’ve got cake crumbs on you.”

“I do? Ah shit - someone’s used this napkin already.” Theon threw the paper aside and grabbed another. His pale eyes were focused on Daenerys. “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“Is she?” Jon asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“She’s a fucking tease. Do you know what she said while we were dancing?”

“I don’t care,” Jon said whilst looking very curiously at Theon.

Theon leaned closer to him. As he spoke, there was a smirk on his lips: “She said, I’m going to kiss someone tonight. Just like that. Now what do you think that means, Jon?”

Jon stared at him blankly. “I think it means that she’s going to kiss someone tonight, mate.”

“No shit - but why would she say it to me?”

Jon chewed on his inner cheek and shrugged. “I don’t know, man,” he mumbled, dragging his gaze back to Daenerys, “I don’t know.”

In truth, there were many things about Daenerys that Jon just couldn’t understand. He didn’t get how she could study Latin, French, and Chinese at the same time and still be caught up on Love Island. Or why she was now friends with the same girls who’d bullied her in primary school. Or why, whenever she looked at him with those bright, violet eyes, his face would glow red, and she would smile and talk as if she didn’t even notice.

It’s because she’s nice, Jon decided, and she doesn’t want to embarrass you by pointing out how hopelessly in love you are. But he was hopelessly in love. Not that he was ever going to admit it to Theon, or Tyrion, or any other lad likely to tell him about how the sight of Daenerys’ ass drove them crazy. No, Jon thought, watching the girls collapse in a giggling hug as the song ended, their feet red from dancing, what’s the point of being hurt.

“Oh my God!” Margaery panted as she reached their table, her face as pink as Daenerys’ dress, “That was phenomenal.”

“Actually,” Theon quipped, “phenomenal indicates a one of a kind experience, something extraordinary.”

“What’s your point?” Margaery asked, crossing her arms as she sent him a bored look.

Theon waved at the moving crowd. “Whatever you guys were doing out there was maybe okay at best. Definitely not phenomenal.”

“Mhmm, and I bet you could do better?”

“I never said that,” Theon replied, but he was already getting to his feet.

Jon scooted closer to the table to make space for him to move around, his grey eyes focused on Daenerys. She was standing at Margaery’s side, coyly scratching her arms as she watched her friend being dragged back onto the dancefloor. “Go have fun,” she urged Margaery.

“I think I’m suddenly growing two left feet,” Margaery winked, “I hope he has thick shoes.”

As the two of them disappeared into the crowd, Daenerys pointed to the chair next to Jon and asked: “Is that seat free?”

“It’s empty,” Jon replied sarcastically before he could stop himself. He suckled on his cheek and averted his eyes, but Daenerys just smiled at him and slipped in to sit down.

As she filled a plastic cup with water from the jug, she breathed a lock of sweaty hair out of her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever danced so much,” she said. “My feet are killing me.”

“You were the first girl on the floor tonight,” Jon said and leaned back in his seat. The plastic groaned under him as he balanced the chair on its back legs. “Bet you’ll be the last one home too.”

“Mhm, I think I’ve danced to every song,” Daenerys said around the cup.

“And with every man,” Jon replied. The moment the words left his mouth, he imagined sucking them right back in and swallowing them into the pits of his stomach never to be spoken again. But it was too late, and even Daenerys’ kind face twitched.

She popped the cup back down and peeled at the tablecloth. “Something like that,” she replied quietly. Then, her face perked up as she asked: “I haven’t seen you dance?”

“No one wants to dance with me,” Jon said dismissively.

“That’s not true. I’ve seen girls ask. Jeyne was upset in the bathroom.”

“She was?” Jon tried to recall who Jeyne was. A blurry image of a brunette flickered before his eyes, but he wasn’t quite certain he was remembering the right girl.

“Not into dancing?” Daenerys pressed. When Jon looked at her, she cocked her head to the side, her straight, silver locks falling down over her shoulder to reveal a golden earring. It was shaped like a star.

Jon thought he’d like to gaze at it all night. But he dragged his eyes away and replied: “Something like that,” before picking up his fork and stabbing at a random slice of cake that someone had left behind.

For a moment, they were quiet. Then, DJ Daario’s voice boomed over the speakers: “Alright boys and girls - I mean, ladies and gentlemen - are you ready to party!” A few girls cheered. Then, to Jon’s chagrin, some techno remix of ‘Who Let The Dogs Out?’ filled the room, and he sunk his head down between his shoulders as he tried to let his secondhand tux swallow him up.

Daenerys laughed. “Come on - it’s all about having fun.”

“Yeah, the fun guy. That’s me.”

“I mean it, Jon,” Daenerys continued, and she sent him an earnest look, “it’s the last time all of us will be together. Who cares that the DJ is shit? It’s Liverpool. Everything is shit.”

“Not everything.” Jon glanced back at her. Something about the smile on her face was making his pulse quicken. The longer he stared at her, the longer he looked into those violet eyes, the more rapid his heartbeat was getting. If I don’t look away, he thought, I’m going to have a heart attack right here in the gym hall. But he couldn’t look away - all he could do was reach out, cup Daenerys’ cheek, and-

“Let’s dance!” Sansa’s arms dropped around Daenerys’ shoulders, and Jon watched with quiet frustration as his sister dragged her up standing. “I love this song!”

Daenerys sent Jon one last, longing look, but then she let Sansa pull her onto the dancefloor to join Margaery and Theon who were throwing their hands about as if they were at the Electrik Warehouse.

Jon, feeling bile fill his mouth, scrambled to his feet, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and headed outside into the cool evening air.

In a quiet corner of the empty car park, Jon lit a cigarette and let the smoke clear his mind. He watched the stars above as he thought about the past few years. He had spent all of sixth form longing for Daenerys; staring at her in the hallways, watching her nape in class, sitting at her table during lunchtime. He even played the flute for a short stint, just to join the orchestra where she played the violin. He had watched guys date her on and off, and he had dated too, not as much out of interest as to appear normal.

What a waste of time, Jon thought, watching a cloud slipper past high above, hiding the full moon from sight, to never tell her how I feel. Now, it was likely too late, he realised. She was going to kiss someone tonight, that much she’d told Theon, and Jon could imagine a handful of guys she could fulfil that promise with.

Somewhere, a door slipped open. The dull sound of music playing inside was scattered by the cool breeze. Jon could hear ‘Story of my life’ echoing in the building, girls screaming along to the lyrics, guys loudly proclaiming how One Direction is stupid.

“Jon,” someone said.

Jon looked up and saw Daenerys. Against the grey backdrop of concrete, her pink dress appeared even brighter. As she walked, the skirt swayed around her hips like fluffy strands of cotton candy. She looked silly. She looked great. Jon swallowed and said: “Weren’t you dancing?”

“I told you - my feet hurt.” Daenerys paused next to Jon and nodded at his cigarette. “May I?”

“You smoke?” Jon said surprised, but he handed it over and let her have a drag.

As smoke escaped her plump lips, Daenerys sighed to the sky. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Jon feigned interest in the zipper of his windbreaker whilst watching her out of the corners of his eyes. She was rolling his smoke around her fingertips, lifting it to her lips now and again to have another drag. “What don’t I know?” he finally asked.

Daenerys tapped ashes off the end of the cigarette. They fluttered away with the breeze like dust. “Why haven’t you asked me to dance?” she returned the question.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I don’t know.” Daenerys rolled her head back as she watched the moon reappear from behind a cloud. “It’s weird, don’t you think? How we’ve known each other for years.”

“Mhm,” Jon replies, kicking a stone, “I guess.”

“We’ve gone to the same classes, the same parties. We’ve chatted rubbish.”

“Mhm,” Jon replies again, unable to come up with something smart to say. He was just watching her, wondering where she was heading with her ramblings.

Daenerys looked down at the cigarette before handing it back to him. As his fingers closed around the filter, she asked: “Why do you hate me?”

Jon blinked and dropped the smoke to the ground. “Fuck.” He stepped on it to kill the light before kicking it into a nearby drain. He suddenly needed a smoke then more than ever. “Fuck, what do you mean, hate you? I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you always talk crap to me?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah? The seat is empty,” she said, imitating his grumpy voice.

Jon could’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the situation. He sent her a perplexed look. “That’s just how I talk.”

“It’s not. I’ve heard the way you talk to other girls. That’s why Jeyne was crying tonight - she thought you were in love with her, Jon. Way to upset her.”

“She did?” Once more, Jon tried to recall who she was, but he gave up after a few seconds of wrecking his brain. He shook his head. “I don’t hate you,” he said again, “of course I don’t.”

“I used to think you didn’t. You were always nice to me in school,” Daenerys said. She kicked her skirt out and settled on the asphalt, her feet nestled on the curb. After a moment’s pause, Jon sat down next to her. “When everyone else bullied me, you talked to me and played with me. I remember. I was so lonely.”

“Why are you friends with them?” Jon asked. “Margaery and all of those girls. They were horrible to you.”

“Life’s too short, Jon,” Daenerys sighed, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him tiredly. “Life’s too short to hold stupid grudges, and not to wear stupid clothes,” she tugged at her skirt, “and not to dance to stupid songs. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t really do stupid,” Jon mumbled, silently thinking that everything in his life he’d ever done was, in fact, really dumb. Like playing the flute.

“What changed?” Daenerys asked. She cocked her head, her earrings glimmering in the dim light from the moon as she watched him with care. “Why did you start pulling away?”

Jon thought back to secondary school. He thought back to the day he fell in love with Daenerys. It was a Sunday, he remembered it clearly. He was riding this bike around the park when he saw Daenerys and Margaery huddled up beneath the swing set. As he approached, he could see bruises on Margaery’s knees, and the girl was weeping as Daenerys explained how she’d fallen off the swing and scraped herself bloody.

“Can you help me get her home?” she’d asked, and of course Jon had let them use his bike. Side by side they walked, Jon quietly holding on to the handlebars as Daenerys whispered words of comfort to her bully, and it was in that moment that he felt something inside of him twist and turn. That day, he realised that he loved Daenerys for how gentle and kind and forgiving she was - and he hated her for the same qualities.

Jon cleared his throat. “It’s complicated,” he replied.

“Only if you make it so,” Daenerys said. She suckled on her lower lip, then continued: “I really like you, you know?”

Jon’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Don’t,” he asked. He wasn’t sure why - it just slipped out of his mouth before he could give it a second thought. But he repeated: “Please don’t,” and sent her a sorry look.

“Why?” Daenerys asked. Her voice was clear and proud, but there was nervousness in her eyes. “I do, though. I have for years. Is that so wrong?”

“You love everyone.”

“Life’s too short for grudges.”

“So you say.” Jon looks down at his feet. Despite shining his shoes that morning, the leather was now looking dull. Feeling the need to do something with his hands, he started rubbing the tips shiny with the tips of his fingers. “Look, I don’t like being played for a fool.”

“Then you better stop acting like one. I just said I like you - can’t you even reject me?”

Jon scrubbed his shoes harder, biting his teeth together so harshly that he started tasting blood on the tip of his tongue. “You love everyone,” he repeated, “even people who’ve treated you wrong, people who’ve hurt you.”

“Please just say you hate me. I can’t stand this.”

“But I really like you too.” Jon turned to look at her, and he felt his cheeks redden as he saw the tears on her cheeks. He could feel them too - wetness escaping his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, settling in the few hairs on his chin. He swallowed. “I like you too,” he said again, as if admitting it to himself out loud.

Daenerys took in a deep breath. He could see her nostrils flare. When she breathed out, her cheeks seemed more red than before. “So what’s the problem?” she asked. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I don’t want to be loved out of pity,” Jon said.

“Who said anything about pity?”

“Don’t you get it?” Jon shook his head and smiled a smile of disbelief. “You love everyone, you’re kind to everyone, you’re good to everyone - am I just another charity case? Am I just another ‘life is too short’ situation?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Daenerys replied, but the hard tone to her voice told Jon that she did.

He stood up and started pacing the ground around them. “Theon said you’re going to kiss someone tonight.”

“That was the plan,” Daenerys said. She too stood up. Her hands were twisted around the fabric of her skirt as she watched him. “So what?”

“So what?” Jon stopped in front of her. He looked at her with a headshake. Everything inside of him was jumping around, clenching, squeezing, kicking him, making him feel sick. “So… everything! You’ll kiss a guy to make him feel better, too? I don’t want to be loved because you feel you have to embrace the world.”

“My love is not measured,” Daenerys replied. “Do you think a woman with ten children loves the last born less than the first born?”

“I think,” Jon said, staring into her eyes, his own quivering, “that you’re in love with Theon.”

Daenerys’ hands closed at Jon’s cheeks as she pulled him in for a kiss. Her movement surprised him so much that he felt himself gasp in the kiss, staring at her, not blinking even once as she pressed herself to him. Only when she let go did he wish that he’d held her and kissed her back. “All I ever wanted,” she whispered, looking into his eyes with a quiet sob, “was for you to love me like I have loved you. All of you.”

“But I do,” Jon said, stunned.

“Then show me,” she asked, blinking tears out of her eyes. “I have been waiting for years, you know. I don’t know where we will all be going after tonight, and I don’t care. I mean it, Jon - life is too short. I will not hate someone, but I will love someone dearly. Will you do the same?”

As Jon looked back into her violet eyes, he felt his heartbeat quicken. A fool, he thought, I’ve been a fool. He closed his hand at her waist. He took her other hand in his. As the sounds of music from inside simmered in the air, the lyrics indistinguishable, he begged: “Dance with me?” and Daenerys laughed through her tears as she replies:

“I thought you’d never asked.”

In the concrete car park, under the full moon and to the booming voice of Liverpool’s worst DJ, Jon and Daenerys danced slowly, and they danced closely. And Jon thought: maybe it’s not so bad being loved by a girl who can love everyone. Maybe it’s the best thing in the world.

Thank you for the prompt @burninghecate! I hope you liked it!

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys fanfiction #quick writing

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radiorenjun · 4 years

Text

Lavender Antics.

→ Pairing: Han Jisung X Reader

→ Summary: Shooting in a drama with him was your absolute nightmare. Working with your enemy and pretending that you were love interests has been the most frustrating experience of your life. Though, after saying your farewells, the scent of lavender never leaves.

→ Genre:enemies to lovers au, idol au, romance, angst, slowburn.

→ Warnings: Very hurtful words. Antics. Mentions of insecurity. Alcohol, Swearing, Making out. Suggestive?

→ Word Count:

→ Chapters: 1, 2, 3

You tucked your phone in your pocket as you entered the dance studio to be greeted by your group members stretching and warming up. "Hey y/n!" they greeted in unison, making you smile at how their cheerful aura greeted your exhausted figure. "Hi," you replied shortly, dropping your dufflebag near theirs on the floor.

"How was filming?" Jaehwa asked, letting out a groan when Haneul pushed her back down as she did a split. "The usuals: Jeongin being a crackhead, the director shoving it into our faces that we're going to Tokyo, that donkey being insufferable. Same as always," you chuckle, joining them as you stretched your arms.

"Oh yeah! I forgot you're leaving for Tokyo soon. When are you going again?" Cheonsa exclaimed, massaging her ankles. "Honestly, first Cheonsa was on hiatus. Now you're on hiatus just for some drama film?" Jaehwa chuckled. You rolled your eyes at Kiyeon before answering Cheonsa's question, "Im leaving in two days. I'll be out of your hair for a whole month so enjoy it while you can," you joked.

"Believe me, I know I will." Kiyeon responded, taking a sip of her caffeine. "Oh hush, you'll miss me when I leave." you snickered as you hit her shoulder playfully. "Since you're leaving your dearest best friends behind for some dick, you better treat us to something tomorrow." Cheonsa exclaimed.

"I want steak!" she added with a bright smile. You lifted your fist as if you were gonna punch her, sucking your lip into your mouth as you growled out. "Why you lil-" Jaehwa sat up from her split and patted your thigh, "don't kill anyone just yet, y/n. You still have alot to live for. Plus I don't wanna be the one getting you out of prison," she sighed.

"Cheonsa's not wrong though. You should treat us to something before you leave," Haneul nodded in agreement, making Cheonsa let out a victory cheer at her statement. "I agree. Last time, y'all completely ditched me in that restaurant leaving me to pay that tremendous bill when you all said we were gonna split it!" Kiyeon grumbled.

"It was all planned, by the way." you smirked with a chuckle. "It was Cheonsa's idea for a prank, too." Jaehwa smiled with a nod. Kiyeon glared at our leader who was giving her an innocent peace sign. "Man, I'm really gonna miss you guys when I'm in Tokyo." you sighed, laying your cheek on your palm as your elbow stood on your thighs.

"Of course you will, you can't live without us." Kiyeon chuckled, giving a soft punch to your shoulder. "And Im leaving," you pretended to stand up as the girls chuckled at your reaction. You giggled as you retreated to your former position. "Man, who am I going to talk to in Tokyo when you idiots aren't there?" you whined.

"Yang Jeongin? Or that makeup artist, she looks really nice when I came to visit you on set." Haneul suggested. "Stop acting as if it's the end of the world, you fucking drama queens. Video chatting and texting exists, too, you know." Jaehwa patted your back. You smiled softly at your friends.

"Wait, you're saying that y/n isn't going to die? Damn, I made a whole song and funeral and everything." Cheonsa said in a sardonic tone, causing the whole group to laugh. "You wish. You're stuck with me, get used to it." you wrapped your arm around her shoulder and pulled her to a side hug.

"I really hope our contract ends soon." Cheonsa uttered jokingly. "Very funny," you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. "By the way, have you heard that Chen-sunbaenim is getting married?" Haneul gossiped in a dramatically posh-popular girl tone. "Oh my god, what? Ugh, I can't believe some girl took away my sunbae," you mocked her tone.

"Isn't Sehun your bias, though?" Kiyeon laughed. You nodded with a laugh, dropping the whole fancy act, "though, it wasn't a surprise, really. I mean, whenever I walk by there's always this girl he keeps hanging out with, I'm guessing that's her." you informed.

"Can't believe we're gossiping bout our seniors." Jaehwa shook her head with a chuckle. "What? It's already made public, it's basically the trending topic of the hour. I hope I get invited though, I wanna see my childhood idol get married. God, we're becoming old, girls!" Cheonsa whined, flapping her hands aimlessly.

"You're becoming old, that is. I'm still younger than you," you teased. "Oh hush, just because I have a boyfriend doesn't mean I'm getting old for fucks sake. You're probably gonna date that Jisung guy in the future, just wait and see." she tutted with a point of her finger. You pretended to gag, laying a palm on your chest as you stuck your tongue out in disgust. "No thank you," you croaked dramatically.

"I rather date, Shrek, himself than that stubborn cheesecake stealing donkey." you clenched your jaw angrily. "You know, he's not that bad. From what I see in interviews, he looks like a really nice guy to hang out with," Kiyeon shrugged, taking her coffee cup to her lips.

"That is, if he doesn't hate you for no absolute reason!" you exclaimed, flailing your hands up dramatically. "Well, it seems like you hate him too so you're both in the wrong." she smirked. "I do hate him, if that wasn't clear. But he started it first! If he wasn't such a dick then maybe I would've considered him a friend!" you huffed.

"You're being over dramatic. What did he do that was so bad to make you hate him anyways?" Jaehwa rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. You paused, recalling the unpleasant memory, "I don't wanna talk about that." you mumbled, looking at your hands.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Kiyeon grumbled. "Shouldn't we practice?" she asked. "We should, but we really need a break so let's just slack off for a while and get back to practise in a couple of minutes." Haneul suggested. Cheonsa was about to retort when her phone rang, her face lit up at the sight.

"The bf is calling, do what you want. But when I get back, be prepared to be trained hard vocally and physically." she chuckled, walking out of the room with her phone vibrating like crazy in hand. As the door swung shut, there was a peaceful yet awkward moment of silence. "So what now?" you asked.

"Have you packed yet?" Haneul asked, ignoring your question. You scratched your head at the thought, "kinda, but most of my clothes that I already packed are just sweaters and shorts." you shrugged. "I'll help you pack once we get back to the dorm, you always under pack and borrow my clothes or shop for really tacky ones in supermarket stores." Jaehwa laughed.

"Oh hush, I just like wearing comfy clothes!" you chuckled. "Unfortunately for you, comfy clothes isn't an option for this comeback." she grinned with a snap, causing you to roll your eyes at her statement. "Shut up," you groaned.

The door opened slightly, attracting your attention as Cheonsa's head poked through. "Hey girls, I'm about to go to the other dance studios real quick, alright?" she informed with an excited smile before exiting the room once again, grabbing her waterbottle in the process without letting any of us respond to her.

"Appointing her as our leader was the number one worst mistakes of our careers," you announced aloud, causing the girls to laugh and nod in agreement. "Couldn't agree more, y/n. Couldnt agree more," Jaehwa laughed.

A few seconds later, the door opened once again and Cheonsa's head poked into the room. "By the way, you're really gonna treat us to food right?" she grinned with a hopeful and teasing glint in her expression. You chuckled, waving your hand to dismiss her as she laughed and exit the door.

"Guys, is that really necessary?" you chuckled, looking at your members after you checked if your passport and ticket was there. Your members had thoughtfully decided to drop you off at the airport, while wearing unessecary disguises such as a Mona Lisa costume, a moustached detective, Dwayne Johnson's face duct taped to a clown mask and Oli London's face carved from cardboard.

"Yes it is. It's important for us to not be recognized by the public and drop our little y/n off to school." Kiyeon responded, shamelessly fidgeting with her detective hat. "If you guys are gonna walk out looking like that, not only y'all are gonna get recognized by the people, you'll also embarrass me and cause more drama online!" you laughed, crossing your arms as you entered the airport gate.

"Hush, I'm parking the car. You don't want me to make this long and miss your flight do you?" Cheonsa gave you the stink eye through the rearview mirror, gazing at your through her long wig. "Honestly, y'all are gonna be accused as weirdos and get escorted out." you pursed your lips as the car stopped.

"What's so wrong bout wanting to drop off our member?" Jaehwa asked, nudging your shoulder as she shifted her Oli London mask back on to cover her face. "Thank you for the ride," you rolled your eyes and stepped out of the vehicle, quickly grabbing your suitcases and running off before your members could spot you.

As you ran, you lifted your phone to call your manager, informing him where you are. "I'm in the station already, where are you?" you asked, looking around as it was almost 10 minutes til boarding time. "You what?" you gaped at your managers response.

"Hey ugly!" a familiar voice yelled through the crowded room. You winced at the sound of the voice and chuckled nervously at your manager, "you couldn't just come here yourself?" you exclaimed nervously. "Right, you have to check on the other staff." you nodded before rubbing the space inbetween your eyes, ignoring the voice yelling your name behind you that was getting louder and louder.

"Hey ugly!" Jisung exclaimed, showing his pearly white teeth as he layed a hand on your shoulder. You glared at him, giving him the stink eye at the nickname which caused him to chuckle. He has been calling you thathighly insultive nickname since that scene you had to do with you being pushed to a puddle of mud, smearing your face in it.

Playing the role of the bullied popular girl has never been so tough when Jisung became your real life bully. "Hello donkey," you spat as your manager spoke his last words bout checking the VIP tickets and hanging up without giving you a second to reason with him.

"Im here to pick you up!" he chuckled, his heart shaped lips forming a bright smile that never left his face. You shuddered before gripping the handle of your suitcase tightly, "I am very much aware, thank you very much." you answered with a shaky breath.

"Let me help you with your suitcase," his hand reached to grab one or your suitcase which you slapped away due to your suspicion. "I don't trust you enough with my suitcase, who knows you might leave it here when we board." You said with a raise of your eyebrow.

He frowned at your words, his lips forming a scowl before he rolled his eyes. "I was just trying to be nice, sheesh, don't need to be a bitch about it." he shot back, pulling the straps of his backpack to his shoulder before leading you forward to where the rest of the cast were sitting.

You felt his hand hit your back gently, you flinched at the contact looking back at him as you cursed in response. "What the fuck was that for?" you exclaimed, looking back at Jisung. Jisung just looked at you with an unbothered expression, "Chill out, Ms.Y/n. I'm being nice here, there was a bug on your back and I took care of it for you," he rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome." He smirked, crossing his arms as you glared at him suspiciously before sitting down with a nod. You continued to speak with your co-worker, Yeoreum, who was playing the role of your bully. Despite her role, she's an absolute sweetheart.

"I see you and Jisung are bickering, once again." Yeoreum smirked, offering you a lollipop which you happily accepted. "Im not surprised anymore, it's become a daily routine now." you sighed, sipping your lemon tea. "Your members didn't come to say goodbye?" she asked, "I wanted to see them before we leave."

"Trust me, they did. They dropped me off and dressed up as if tonight's Halloween or something. But to be honest, if I didn't leave them alone I would've been bombarded with more paparazzis than I was three minutes ago," you chuckled, showing her a picture of them with their ridiculous costumes on your phone.

She burst out laughing, grabbing your phone in her hands. "When we arrived at the hotel, we're definitely video chatting them to see if they still have those ridiculous outfits on, right?" she smirked. "I don't know... Im probably gonna feel to tired to even open my eyes," you joked, earning a strong push from her.

"Y/n!" she whined, shaking your figure vigorously. Jeongin groaned, feeling interrupted from his game. "Director-nim! Yeoreum is bullying me!" you laughed, whining playfully. "Would you guys shut up, you're distracting us from our game!" Jisung complained as he tried to focus what's happening on the screen of the Nintendo Switch before him.

"Shut up, donkey." you chuckled as you lined up for the VIP section of the plane. You heard Jisung snickering behind you, only to be smacked by a disappointed Jeongin who was shaking his head in disapproval. "Honestly, why are you like this?" he mumbled.

"Shut up," Jisung laughed, nudging his friend as you continued to walk towards your seat, subtly giving him a look filled with suspicion. "What's wrong with him?" you muttered to yourself, sucking your lollipop as you sat down next to one of the staff who was already fast asleep.

You plucked in your earphones and fidget in your seat to get into a comfortable position, you turned on your favorite playlist and relaxed in your seat, drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

You stretched as you exited the plane and entered the airport, reuniting with the rest of the cast. Jisung was giggling behind you despite his tired eyes boring into yours. You raised your brow, "what are you laughing bout?" you asked with a croaky voice.

"It's 2 in the morning, what could you possibly be laughing bout?" you repeated in a cranky tone. He giggled before shaking his head at you, continuing to grab his suitcases. You huffed at the peculiar boy giggling away infront of you, rubbing your eyes to try and wake yourself up a lil bit more til you arrive at the hotel.

"Hey y/n. Is that sign on your back always there?" Yeoreum asked, dragging her suitcase behind her, pointing at your back. Your eyes widened as your arms quickly reach to venture your back, feeling a piece of paper taped to the fabric of your hoodie.

You gripped it and pulled it away from your hoodie, taking a closer look at the slightly crumpled paper. "What the fuck?" you whispered under your breathe almost inaudibly. Written in bold letters was a big 'KICK ME' in an oh-too familiar handwriting.

You growled, crumpling the piece of paper and tossing it into a garbage bin. "Han Jisung, I am going to slaughter you!" you exclaimed, running up to him who surprisingly ran for his life. Due to your lack of sleep, you were a little slower than him so you gave up.

You spotted him hiding behind his manager, his head poking out. He looked at you with eyes wide awake, grinning like the cheeky bastard he is, you raised a fist at him. He stuck his tongue out playfully at your small threat. You raised a middle finger at him in response.

"Alright then, once the bus to the hotel arrives, sleep as much as you can. We're going to start filming late this noon til midnight, so get all the rest you can." the director announce with a yawn, going through the files and looking at his wrist watch.

The whole staff groaned including you who was checking your phone, notifying your parents and members bout your safety. "I take it back, I'm gonna be sleeping like a pig for the next ten hours" you groaned at your costar. "Geez, weak." Jisung chuckled before yawning into his mouth.

"Im sorry, Mr donkey. I didn't order a glass of your opinion," you rolled your eyes at him. As the bus came to a stop infront of you, you yawned taking the first step with Jisung half asleep beside you. You chuckled to yourself at the sight of the older boy yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes.

This was going to be a long month.

#lavender antics #han jisung x reader #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #han jisung imagines #han jisung #skz scenarios #skz au #skz fluff #skz jisung #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids #stray kids smut

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

White Christmas

Clyde Logan x Reader ; 1.9k

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

You’re in the kitchen finishing up the very last decorations on the gingerbread house, when Sadie sighs. She’s been huffin’ and puffin’ all evening, much to your dismay. You had hoped that buildin’ the homemade house from scratch would be a fun activity to end off Christmas Eve, but your normally sunshiney niece was practically gloom and glum all night.

She reaches for the final perfect gumdrop, but you use your hand to block her, givin’ her a questioning look, wondering what in tarnation is going on in that mind of hers. Christmas was her favorite holiday, it always had been, and for the first time in years all the Logans had decided to celebrate together, everyone staying in the nice new house you and Clyde bought after the heist.

“Do you think it’ll come tonight?” Sadies finally chews her lip and asks, pouts with those big sad eyes of a child whose dream has been crushed.

Your heart aches, knowin’ what she means. You both glance out the window, to the decidedly un-snowy front yard. In the reflection of the glass, you can see the disappointment on her face, and your heart aches.

“I don’t know sweatpea, but I hope so.” You say, twisting her ponytail affectionately.

“We’ve had snow every year.” Sadie sighs again, plucking off one of the red and green M&M decorations on the roof of her house, popping it in her mouth and chewing noisily before sighing once again with a, “I hate global warming.”

“Me too, me too.” You give a sympathetic smile, pulling her into your arms for a little while, a nice reassuring hug. Before you let her go, you try to get her back in the spirit by whispering real quiet so only she can hear, “But instead of worrying about that for right now, why don’t you run up and get ready for bed, hm? Santa Claus can’t come if you’re not asleep by eight.”

That perks Sadie right up, and before you know it she’s bolting out of your arms with a glance at the clock, realizing it’s already seven-thirty.

“Shoot, you’re right!” She gasps, “Goodnight Uncle Clyde! G’night Aunt (Y/N)!” She gives you each a kiss on the cheek, you in the kitchen and your husband on the couch in the living room, before running into one of the guest bedrooms which she has claimed.

You chuckle fondly at the renewed excitement, and with the gingerbread houses finished, you grab a mug from the counter and fill it with icy cold ‘nog.

You hang in the doorway for a moment, simply admiring the view before you. Clyde is relaxed on the couch in his Christmas pajamas – something you purchased for the whole family so you could all match. He’s got his prosthetic off, put away somewhere in the master bedroom, and his hair is freshly washed and fluffy. From the angle he’s sitting at, all you can see is the strong contour of his profile, and you get the sudden urge to kiss his nose.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

“Is that the news?” You ask, and he perks up at the sound of your voice, that permanent scowl of his fading away to something much more soft and sweet.

“Yep.” He says, forever a man of many words.

“Has the weather come on yet?” You ask hopefully, but he sighs in that very Logan way that they all do, and you already know the answer before he’s tellin’ you.

“Nope.” He tells you anyway. When he sees your eyes sadden, he reaches out to you, beckons you with his hand and a, “C’mere darlin’, sit with me?”

You sit on the armrest of the couch, and he wraps his arm around your waist. You lean your head on top of his and offer him the mug you brought, still nice and chilled from the frozen bowl you had poured it into just shy of an hour ago.

“Want some eggnog?” You offer, but he shakes his head, tears his gaze away from the news – still no weather – to look at you, smile at you.

“Not if you can’t have any.” He says, and you kiss him softly, just a chaste little something when you push it into his hand.

“There’s no brandy, I made it special so Sadie could have some too.” You explain and his whole face lights up at that, makin’ you chuckle and card your fingers through his hair gently as his huge mouth gulps down half the mug in one swig.

“When d’ya think we can tell everyone?” He asks, throwing a glance to your stomach, and you can’t help but laugh at the cream that sticks to his moustache.

“Not for two more weeks, just to be safe.” You reply, and he nods in understanding.

You steal the mug back from him for just a moment, just long enough to catch a sip or two before letting him finish it off, and you lean your head back down on top of his, feeling safe and warm in his loving embrace as the low light from the TV flickers on and on, as the two of you wait for a forecast.

The whole family has gone to sleep by the time you and Clyde decide to turn off all the lights and make your way upstairs.

With Jimmy across state lines to see his daughter more, the whole gang didn’t have much opportunity to get together all that often. You figured that if there were any time of the year to celebrate with your loved ones, it was Christmas, so you managed to convince Clyde to open up the house to his brother and sister, as well as some of your family and friends.

All in all, absolutely every one of the spare rooms was filled for a long weekend of all sorts of traditions. Sadie was so excited to see the new house, she ran around and around the place, gawkin’ and gaspin’ at the newness of it all.

You knew it shouldn’t make you feel so proud and petty, but well, compared to the kind of livin’ Bobby Jo had managed to secure for herself, you thought you did pretty damn good.

But Sadie was snoozin’ in her bed, as were everyone else. You thought about the poem, how Clyde had read it aloud to the whole group, his deep baritone the perfect pitch for the smooth rumblings about sugar plums and sleighs and tiny reindeer. You thought about how they were all dreamin’ themselves, the house so quiet as you both made the rounds to switch off the lights on the tree, blow out all the candles.

It’s only when you’re passing under the doorway to go into the kitchen and help Clyde put away the eggnog and gingerbread houses, that you see the little bundle of green that’s been taped up above your heads, your husband appearing just on the other side of the door.

“Would ya looky here,” He says shyly, always ever so shy your husband, shy as he smile and quirks a brow as he points up to the, “Mistletoe.”

“Now who put that there?” You wonder teasingly, softly, eyes already closing and leanin’ in, lips puckering.

“Someone smart.” Clyde whispers, arms coming around your waist, big warm hand splayed out on your back, pressing you close to him.

On the in the background Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are singing in red velvet in front of a live audience, and you let your heart swell with the romance of it all.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

Just like the ones I used to know

Where the treetops glisten and children listen

To hear sleigh bells in the snow

After smoochin’ in the doorway, the two of you can barely keep your hands off of one another, and he walks you back back back against the kitchen counter. He’s so strong, sometimes you forget how strong he is, your husband, forget those special ops muscles. He’s eager, excited, his kisses more and more urgent as he maneuvers you so that he can stand between your legs as your breath puffs and pants against one another.

Y’all hadn’t had much opportunity for any sex, with the entire house packed with family, and you knew you couldn’t reasonably get away with anything in this moment, but it was still thrilling to try. He’s handsy, big warm palm sliding up your blouse and gropin’ grabbin’ pinchin’ at ya.

You only giggle and bite at his lips, bite at his big cheesin’ grin, that special smile only you ever get to see.

You lean back enough to just get a good look at him – and that’s when you notice it.

“Clyde!” You gasp softly, hopping off the counter and immediately moving to the living room once more.

“Hmm?” He frowns, concerned and following you hot on your tail, not seeing what you’re seeing.

But you see it, the soft white flurries that flutter down from the black of night. The porch-lights are on and you can catch bits and pieces of the fluff. Your first thought is of Sadie, how she’s going to get to wake up to a winter wonderland, get to wake up to snowmen and snow angels and maybe even a snowball fight.

But your second thought, is that you want to feel the snowflakes on your face, on your tongue, and even though it’s late, you turn to Clyde with a pleading, hopeful expression.

“Can we go outside?” You ask, your hands braced on his chest, practically unable to contain yourself.

He smiles and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until you’re laughin’ and coverin’ your mouth to try and keep quiet, so as to not wake up the rest of the family.

“Only if you’re warm enough darlin’, I don’t wantcha catchin’ cold.” He says softly, appraising you in your pajamas, wondering if he should stick you in ten more layers.

But then you’re grinning up at him, pulling him by the hand to stick your feet into slippers to protect from the chill of the snow that’s already starting to stick, and you toss him one of your beaming grins with a twinkle in your eye as you tell him, “I won’t be if you’re holdin’ me.”

You don’t stay out long, just enough time to get the cool bite of the gentle breeze on your face, jack frost nipping at your nose, as they say. Clyde is right by your side, hand on your waist, walking around and around the yard with you in the dark, the only light coming from the strands of icicle lights that Jimmy had helped hang up, and the porch lamps.

It’s not much right now, but you just know that come morning, Sadie’s going to be laughing and shouting and wakin’ y’all up to come outside.

So for now, it’s enough that it’s here, enough that you can chuckle softly as you brush the snow out of Clyde’s hair.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas

With every Christmas card I write

"May your days be merry and bright

And may all your Christmases be white"

-----------

Tagging my Clyde lovin’ friends! <3 @autumnlovesadam @dreamboatdriver @fullofbees @adamsnackdriver @kyloxfem @formerly-anonhamster @kylo-renne @callmehopeless @magikevalynn @scheherazades-horcrux @whiskey-bumblebee

#reader insert #clyde logan x reader #clyde x reader #logan lucky #christmas fic #my writing #12DoO #12 days of oneshots

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thats-how-i-role · 3 years

Text

Almost Missed You

Jem was propped up on the communal bathroom counter, a cigarette in one hand and their phone in the other. On leg was hanging over the counter while the other was propped up. Their tie was loosened, and their hair was a shaggy mess in comparison to when they were in class.

“How’s the new school?” Elgar asked, speaking to Jem over the phone.

Jem shrugged, even though he couldn’t see them. “Sucks without you guys. But it’s also really weird. Like people only stick to their own groups, and the teachers are totally okay with that. Not to mention it’s always foggy here.”

“You’re in England Jem, put up with it and find Harry Styles for me.” Elgar joked, which only made Jem’s longing for their best friend that much stronger. “Meet any new friends? Someone to replace me?”

“No,” Jem chuckled. “No one could even try.”

Elgar scoffed, “Well you should at least try and find a new gang. I’m worried you’ll become too much of a hermit. Don’t get a douchey moustache or neckbeard, I beg of you.”

“Fine, fine.” Jem grumbled, taking a bite of their sandwich. “But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Stop eating your lunch in the bathroom by yourself for starters.” Elgar mentioned and Jem rolled their eyes. And began packing up their lunch nonetheless.

“Don’t call me out when you’re in a different timezone, dickweed.”

Elgar laughed on the other side of the phone, “I’ll let you go. Mingle, be brave padawan.”

With that, Elgar hung up. Jem tossed their bag on their shoulder, and walked towards the dining hall. There, Jem saw many groups of friends that they would rather die than be a part of. For the Anne Rice Academy For Wayward Children, was famously known for making troubled students into assholes. They were watched by the old students, judgement and disgust varying from person to person.

Eventually, Jem spotted two tables. At one, there was a girl with reddish-brown hair and deep blue eyes scanning the pages of a leather bound journal. Across from her was a boy, who decided to forgo the tie and blazer from his uniform. He had long, straight white hair and silver eyes. He seemed even more pissed off that he had to be there than Jem was.

At the other table were three others. They seemed to be in deep conversation, but none of them seemed to be on the same page. One was a short girl, with shaggy, black hair and amber eyes. The other, who was bombastic and loud was a tall boy with a blonde and white undercut. A blue bridge piercing gracing his nose. And last but not least, a lean boy, with black hair, sea green eyes, and his right ear pierced with a hoop.

Jem didn’t want to be forced to make conversation so they sat down with the bookworm and the frustrated boy. They awkwardly approached the table and gestured to a seat near the girl.

“Is this seat taken?” They asked, giving her a kind smile.

The girl looked up from her journal, seeming shocked that someone was speaking to her. “No, go ahead.” After Jem sat down, the girl continued to make polite conversation. “You’re the new kid, right?”

“Call me Jem.” They introduced themselves, beginning to pick at their food. After a moment of silence, Lew awkwardly went back to her book and Jem wanted to collapse into themselves, figuring they came off as a bit rude. “And you are?”

“Lewellyn V’lain.” She replied, and then gestured to the boy. “That’s Umbra, he doesn’t talk much. Finds it pointless.”

“I talk to Lew.” Umbra stated, his low and gravelly voice was commanding. “That’s it, even if she gives away my trade secrets.”

Lewellyn laughed saying, “Your name is not a trade secret.”

“That’s what you think.” Umbra quipped, smirking a bit.

Jem began to loosen up a bit, but really wanted to get to the question they’ve been wondering since they got here. “Is it just me, or is this town really weird?”

“Oh, you mean the curfew?” Lewellyn replied. “We’ve had some people go missing once every few weeks for the past couple years. It’s mostly just to keep us safe.”

Jem nodded, “But there’s still so many other people that stay out past it. And they don’t even get in trouble for it.”

Lewellyn shrugged, “I’m not sure myself.”

“I’m thinking aliens personally.” Umbra pitched in once again, earning a laugh from both Jem and Lew this time around.

A few minutes of banter got exchanged between the three of them before a girl with scarlet red hair approached, an unfortunate cliche posse following up behind her. The girl took her water bottle and tipped it over Lew’s head.

Before a drop of water could land on Lew though, Jem was able to grab the girl’s wrist.

They ripped the bottle from her hands saying, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Lewellyn looked solemnly at Jem, whispering, “Don’t Jem, just leave it.”

“Aww,” the girl mockingly cooed, “the freaks got herself a little boyfriend.”

Jem let out a humourless laugh, “Wow, somehow you managed to say something stupid and also be politically incorrect.”

The girl tapped her chin thoughtfully, her devilish smirk never wavering. “Would you look at this? Fresh meat that’s ready to be pounded.”

“That is the title of my sex tape.” Jem quipped, also unfazed.

Suddenly, Jem felt a presence next to them. It was the black haired girl from the other table. She came up to just about Jem’s shoulder height.

The dark haired girl grabbed the bottle from Jem’s hand, and without hesitation, dumped it on her own head. “Ah, refreshing.”

Next thing anyone knew, the dark haired girl rammed the plastic bottle in the mean girl’s face. Jem froze in shock and decided on taking a back seat to this one. The boys from the other table walked over and the white haired boy hooked his arms under the dark haired girl’s, holding her back. Not before the girl could kick the mean girl in the stomach.

One of the boys that was the mean girl’s sycophant came and tried to deck Jem, who was able to duck out of the way.

When Jem opened their eyes, the bully was on the ground with his nose bleeding. Umbra was behind Jem, fists high and ready for a brawl. And a brawl was exactly what they were all gonna get. Bodies colliding, fists and elbows crashing into bone. It took a few minutes before supervisors and teachers were able to separate the two groups. The only one who was relatively untouched was Lew, who was hiding underneath the table. Despite being covered in blood and bruises, this was the most Jem had felt like they belonged in a long time.

To say the least, everyone got detention.

The teachers put the two sides of the battle in different time slots for detention in order to keep any further conflict from arising. Jem was placed with Lew, Umbra, the dark haired girl, the guy with sea green eyes, and the boy with the bridge piercing. The room was completely silent as the group of “misfits” as many would say, studied their homework.

Jem’s eyes began to ache, trying with all their might to make sense of the words that would come easily to others. Eventually, they caved and just toyed with their pencil in silence. They were startled when the secretary came over the intercom, calling for the teacher.

The teacher stood up, closing their laptop. “No one move, or make a sound. I’ll only be a minute.”

As soon as the teacher left the room, the boy with green eyes stood up from his seat, “My god that took longer than I thought it would.”

The white haired boy also rose from his seat, stretching. “I already got slapped with a ruler in the last two detentions, I ain’t risking the third time.” Umbra let out a small laugh but remained silent.

Lew was still fidgeting in her seat, but decided to speak. “I’m really sorry you guys had to go through that. I mean, you don’t even know me”

Jem walked over to her and sat on her desk. “Honestly, anytime. I think it was more about my temper than actually defending you.” Lew gave Jem a small smile, which they returned. Then Jem turned to the other girl, “by the way, you backed me up in the strangest way possible. And I don’t know if I should thank you or call you a therapist.”

The girl shrugged, “She had it coming. She got me in trouble last week because I tried to steal her sparkly pen set. I’ve been looking for a reason since.”

Jem smiled, turning back to Lew. “See, we didn’t fight for you. We had our own selfish reasons.”

Lew playfully shoved Jem, “Jeez, I feel so special.”

“Not gonna lie,” the green eyed boy approached the two, “starting a fight on your first day, pretty ballsy kid. Alveyn Jones, pleasure.”

“Jem, this is Lew and that shadow over there,” Jem pointed in Umbra’s direction, who just flipped Jem off without looking, “is Umbra.”

Alveyn nodded, “the little klepto is Aerilyn, and that guy over there is Volstigg.”

In the ten minutes that the teacher was gone, the two groups of three merged into one. No matter how reluctant Umbra was either. Not many of them had things in common. But it was their individuality that linked them together. And their combined stupidity that got them caught, and put in detention together the next day. It didn’t matter as much though, because they’d all still be together.

A few weeks later, after school the group snuck off the school grounds. Lewellyn told the group that she had discovered something fun with one of her friends the other day. Alveyn brought the alcohol, Volstigg and Lew brought the snacks, and Jem brought something to smoke. Even though the walk was a little gruelling with the fog rolling in, they made it to an abandoned church

There was a small, run down cemetery off to the left of the building. The windows were shattered, and the roof was caved in. Upon entering, they noticed the pews, and altar overturned and sun bleached. There were definitely noises of rats, or other rodents but the aesthetic was so unmistakable that each person decided to live with it.

The group pulled seats out of the rubble, and found positions to get comfortable. Breaking out the chips and rum was the first priority, along with some tunes chosen by Aerilyn. Mostly because how Aerilyn’s playlists could jump from heavy metal to chipmunks remixes was incredibly amusing.

Alveyn rubbed his hands in anticipation, “So, for the question we’ve all been waiting. Why are we at the school for Wayward Children?”

“You go first smartass.” Aerilyn challenged.

Alveyn dramatically cleared his throat for presentation, “I don’t know my parents. They ditched me when I was a young lad. I got picked up by a gang, and eventually years down the line the police caught up to them. So now I’m basically just floating around until I turn eighteen, die, or get imprisoned.” Alveyn took a swig of alcohol before gesturing to Umbra. “Your turn grumpy.”

“No.” Umbra stated, clearly unamused. “Jem, you go.”

“Wait, if you get to skip I should be allowed.” Jem argued, not seriously upset.

“No.” Umbra repeated, eyeing Jem down, who eventually conceded.

Jem rolled their eyes, taking a drag of their cigarette before saying, “Shit went down in America. Can’t really get into it but my mom wanted to ship me off to make sure nothing bad happened to me. She only had two parenting modes anyway, working and worrying. This at least takes one of the modes away.”

“Not even a hint!” Volstigg cried. “We’re best friends!”

“We’re not best friends.” Jem stated plainly, yet they were obviously amused.

“We’re good friends!” Volstigg argued.

“Still nope.”

After a beat Volstigg conceded but still passionately yelled, “We’re friends!”

The group laughed, some until their sides hurt. They continued going around the circle, and it turned out that Jem wasn’t the only person there with things to hide. The gathering went well into the evening, until most people passed out from booze, drugs, both, or Umbra was just tired.

Lew and Jem were the last ones awake. The two were huddled on the same bench, staring up at the nights sky through the hole in the ceiling. Their arms were side by side. At any moment one of them could’ve just shifted and they would be holding hands.

But they didn’t.

“Do you miss your mom?” Lew asked, leaning her head on Jem’s shoulder.

Jem physically strained themselves from being so still as to not disturb Lew. “I mean, sometimes. It was easier when my Dad was around. But my Mom was mostly just sad nowadays. That was hard to watch.”

“I’m sorry.” Lew’s voice was now barely above a whisper.

Jem kept at the same tone, worried about waking the others. “Yeah, me too.” After a moment of silence, Jem continued, “What about you? Do you miss your parents?”

Lew shook her head, “Not really. I mean, even when they were right in front of me they weren’t really there, y’know? At least this way they don’t have to pretend to be interested in what I do, or what I have to say.”

Jem smiled sadly, looking down at Lew, “you never have to think that I’m pretending to care, okay? I will always listen and care about what you have to say.”

Lew grinned at Jem and leaned in. Jem froze, but relaxed when Lew just nuzzled into Jem’s neck. Jem, not exactly sure what to do in this moment, held Lew in their arms. Partly to keep her warm, mostly to melt in her embrace.

A few more weeks passed with the group of unlikely friends. Volstigg desperately trying to get everyone to admit that they were at least good friends. Lew and Jem sharing stolen glances at one another. Umbra enjoying the noise of his friends, even though he didn’t always participate. And Alveyn and Aerilyn always searching for their next adventure.

But one day, Aerilyn wasn’t there.

The group asked around for their friend, but to no avail. They assumed she either was skipping class or ran away. But the misfits knew better than that. She wouldn’t come up with anything crazy on her own. Yet no one took them seriously.

Aerilyn fell of the face of the earth. No sign of her in town, at the dorms, or even at the church where the friend group spent most of their free hours. None of knickknacks were taken with her, and she left any money she pickpocketed as well. She had completely disappeared.

Eventually, even though they missed her, the group stopped looking. Figuring out that if she was around, or wanted to keep in touch she would’ve done it by now. There was a message sent to Volstigg’s phone once that they might’ve been her but it was a dead end. As Christmas passed by, everyone just hoped that she was okay.

But returning from Christmas Break was a little less heartwarming than the group intended. Because after Aerilyn, Alveyn didn’t return either. Again, asking around and everyone just figured Alveyn ran off.

The way the Academy was treating these kids, as if they were just problems. They didn’t care if they ran off to join the circus or may be cold and starving in the ditch somewhere. Lew left as many messages on his phone as she could. Some sweet, some not so. Jem and Volstigg began putting up missing persons posters up for both him and Aerilyn, who still hadn’t turned up. Umbra went underground for a couple days, asking around for information and yet still came up short.

In such a short time, one went to six, that turned to four. It was odd how the group changed along with the seasons, almost unnerving in a way. When the four friends went to the church now, it wasn’t to talk or party, it was to focus on the matter at hand. But they were just kids. Too young to help, considered too naïve to be taken seriously. What were they supposed to do?

After the semester turned over, and the snow began to melt, a body turned up in the alley. Volstigg was the first to hear about it in a gossip circle during first period. He literally ran out of class, clanging his binder against the doors to get his friends’ attention.

By lunch, it was discovered to be Aerilyn.

There were photos circulating the town because she was discovered by some students. It didn’t make sense. Her body was fresh, only had been dead for a couple days at the most. Her head was tucked behind the dumpster. She had new tattoos, new clothes. It was Aerilyn, Jem was positive. But if she was so close to home, how did no one hear from her?

Jem left in the middle of the night to the church. They just needed to get away for awhile. It was spontaneous and hardly planned. They were so numb they were thankful they at least remembered shoes. But most of all Jem was just so confused.

Jem jumped from their seat after hearing thumping coming from the church’s entrance. Walking in was Lewellyn, wrapped tightly in her winter coat and a blanket in hand. Jem’s eyebrows raised but they smiled. In spite of all the circumstances, she was still making them smile.

“How’d you know where I was?” They asked, taking the blanket and wrapping themselves up.

Lewellyn gave an awkward grin, “I wish I could say this was planned. But I’ve been coming here every day just trying to make sense of things.”

Jem nodded solemnly, “There’s nothing to make sense of. There’s no sense in any of this Lew.”

“I know.” Lew reassured, rubbing Jem’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s head back.” Lew hooked one arm around Jem, the other leaning on their arm. After a moment of silence Lew continued saying, “But I wanna make this clear, I’m not giving up. Even if nobody believes us, we know something’s going on in this town. And I think if you and I, and Umbra and Volstigg, we all stick together we might make it out on the other side.”

Jem said, “Yeah, I think so too.” But what they were feeling, deep in their bones was that they never wanted her to leave their side.

Over the course of the next few weeks, the group basically gave up on their studies to focus on the mysteries revolving around the disappearances in town. The more the group looked into it, the further the disappearances went back. There were typically sightings of the missing people, and very rarely did the bodies turn up dead. But despite the sightings, no one ever came home again.

The four were very task oriented. Even in the small breaks between each session, they would still joke about the people in different articles. Volstigg’s favorite task was to find a police officers name in the paper, and then come up with a whole dramatic life for them. He made them laugh, even when they all felt like they shouldn’t. Umbra would bounce back and forth between being the reluctant friend, and the concerned mom. He would take care of his friends, no matter what. Lew led the charge everyday, even as she juggled her grades, her parents expectations, and a social life outside of the Academy. She was an inspiration, and the soul of the group.

Jem however, didn’t feel as important as the rest of them. Only for one reason, and that was their friends’ support was the only thing to give them strength. A reason to get out of bed, to never give up hope, and to enjoy the little things. But all good things must come to an end.

And nothing was as shocking or as painful than when Lewellyn didn’t show up to class the next morning.

Jem, Umbra and Volstigg didn’t even bother to go to class that day. They even knew better than to ask their useless teachers if they had seen her. After all, she was just one of the misfits. Before the Academy would attempt to cover this up, Jem was able to sneak into Lew’s dorm and steal her journal. That was the one object that she would come back for if she could.

And that’s how Jem knew she was still out there.

They left her journal on their desk for the entire first week, nothing happened. But after Umbra, Jem, and Volstigg came up empty handed after their nightly search in the woods and town streets they returned after curfew. Jem was exhausted, dark circles forming beneath their eyes. It took them a minute to realize their window was open, and the journal was gone.

The next day, Jem came crashing into the library to meet up with the two boys. “Lew’s alive.” They explained their process, and how Lew would be the only person who cared about that thing. But Umbra wasn’t as optimistic.

“Or, Lew had clues on the person or people that have been kidnapping others for the past century.” Umbra debated, remaining calm but frustration was evidently bubbling up. “And then whoever took her, and Alveyn, and killed Aerilyn, grabbed the journal to burn any evidence.”

“That makes no sense.” Jem shot back. “How would they know that Lew kept her clues in there? And why would Lew keep clues in there instead of giving them to us?”

Umbra threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t know. Maybe they’re torturing because she got too close. And now they’re gonna kill her because they have the evidence.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” Jem growled, their knuckles going white from gripping the table so hard. “She’s not dead. I know it.”

“She might be, and you’re just gonna have to put up with that.” Umbra snapped right back.

“Guys.” Volstigg attempted to diffuse the situation, but was ignored on both sides.

Umbra stood up, leaning on the table and keeping his hands flat against the table. “I know you had this thing for her and whatever, but you’re gonna have to face the facts at some point. She might be dead, and we might never know for sure. But the one thing the evidence does say, is that we’re never gonna see her again.”

Jem leaped out of their seat, and flipped the table out of their way. They grabbed Umbra by the lapel of his shirt. “Take it back you prick!”

After a moment of grappling, Umbra was able to spin Jem around and pin them against the nearest wall with their hands behind their back. Even though Jem kept fighting against him, he calmly said, “Jem, I know it’s hard. I didn’t want to lose her either, I... I didn’t want to lose any of them. But all I got left is what us three have here and now.” Umbra’s voice wavered slightly, but it would’ve been easy to miss. “I’m not gonna give up, I’ll go out there every night. But if it means that I’m gonna lose you, or you,” he said the last word towards Volstigg, “then it’s not worth it.”

Umbra finally let go of Jem who collapsed against the wall. Umbra crouched down next to them, putting one hand on his shoulder. Volstigg, who had politely turned the table back over and put the books back on it before joining the other two, knelt down next to them.

“How the hell did this get left up to us three?” Volstigg asked jokingly.

Both Jem and Umbra breathed out a laugh in response. Jem was the first to speak and break the peace, “I’m sorry. I just... I can’t help but feel like we’re in over our heads here.”

“Oh, it’s because we are.” Umbra admitted shamelessly. “No doubt in my mind.”

“But we’ll do it together?” Volstigg questioned, his nerves still on high.

Jem and Umbra eyed each other warily before nodding. “Yeah, together.”

The three people went on for the next couple months, investigating as much as they could. The more evidence that came to light, it was becoming more and more clear that there was no logical explanation. And considering Jem’s past, they knew that the supernatural wasn’t completely out of the question.

But there were some nights where things just got too overwhelming. So after taking to the streets, Jem wouldn’t head back to the Academy with the others. But make a detour to the church. Memories often flooded them, but it was their own way of keeping Alveyn, Aerilyn, and Lew alive.

They perched on a broken bench, that they had done so many times before. Once upon a time it was with someone Jem had a connection with, one that is impossible to replicate. Once they had gotten comfy, Jem looked at the sky through the broken roof and they cried.

It felt weird crying, and they felt like they didn’t deserve to cry over someone so perfect. Not to mention that Jem and Lew were never anything more than friends. But eventually Jem figured out that’s what they were crying about. The fact that they never had the chance to be more than friends.

Jem weeped over the possibilities. A future that may or may not have come to pass in any universe. People say that the not knowing is what kills people. But adjacent to not knowing, is the word almost. They almost had a date. They almost held hands. They almost kissed. They almost fell in love. They almost were happy.

But that didn’t matter, because it wouldn’t come to pass. At least, that’s what they thought.

A couple nights after that, Jem went back to the church. Their hands digging through their hair, making it shaggy as per usual. At this point, Jem had forgotten what a good nights rest was like. And the exasperated yawn that slipped from their mouth made that even more obvious.

Maybe they’d just spend a few minutes at the church tonight. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

Right.

Upon entering the dilapidated building, Jem saw someone hunched over on one of the splintered pews. Whoever it was, was dressed in black and a light cream color. Her shimmering blue hair covering her fair skin.

Jem wasn’t going to say anything, they were just going to turn around and leave. Afraid that it might be some homeless person who might jump them just because they look like they came from money in their school uniform. Until, upon closer examination, they noticed something that chilled them to the core. The girl was writing in a journal. It was Lew’s journal.

It didn’t make sense, it didn’t seem possible. And yet the sliver of hope they had for it to be true was enough to bring them towards the mysterious figure. They swallowed deeply before breaking the silence.

“Lew?”

The girl looked up, and it was Lew. It was her beautiful blue eyes, and those freckles Jem had tried to count one time when she fell asleep on their lap. It was her soft cheeks, and plush lips that Jem had pictured on theirs too many times to count. It was her.

“Hi.” Jem began to move towards her slowly as she stood up and brushed herself off. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, aren’t you breaking curfew?” A warm palm pressed against her cheek, and she heard Jem exhale shakily. “I’m sor--” She didn’t even get the word out before she was pulled into a tight hug.

She was real. It was all Jem could think about. But something was different. Other than her look that was obviously updated, but she smelled different. Her body was so cold, even though they were in the middle of spring. Although, the climate was super dewey at night so it could just be affecting her that way.

That had to be it.

“You’re really here, god you’re so cold Lew.” She could feel tears dripping onto the skin of her neck and collar as Jem buried their face into her neck.

“Yeah, I’m really here.” She replied, hooking her arms around Jem, her hands being covered by her sleeves. “I can still feel warm after all.”

Jem pulled back slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear, “What do you mean?”

Lewellyn’s eyes widened, “Uh, it’s just- never mind. It’s not important.”

“You sure about that?” Jem chuckled in disbelief. “Because I swear Lew, from here on out everything you say is important.” Jem wanted to pace back and forth they were so stressed and confused, but they opted with just staying in her arms. “We need to get you back to Academy. Umbra and Vol-“

“No.” Lew tried to pull back, but Jem kept her in place. “I know you probably won’t understand, but I can’t go back there.”

Jem’s concern grew even more. “Why? Did something happen? Is that why you left?”

“I can’t even begin to explain!” Lew exclaimed, stress over taking her entire body. She shoved Jem away, and they tumbled a good few feet back. Thankfully, they were able to stabilize themselves. But the thought didn’t escape them that there’s no way Lew should be that strong.

Jem slowly raised their hands, reassuringly. “It’s okay, it okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know.” Lewellyn cried, holding herself tightly. “I’m not afraid of you hurting me.” She shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. The two stood there in complete silence until Lew flicked open her golden-yellow eyes, and extended fangs. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Jem tried to keep their cool as best as they could. It wasn’t everyday that your friends came back as a vampire. This was seeming more dreamlike by the second. And Jem weighed the options in their head, and they decided that even if this was a dream, they never wanted to wake up.

Jem pointed at their own mouth saying, “the fangs, good look. Kind of amps up the sexy, mysterious vibe.” Lewellyn’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. Jem began walking towards her, slowly. “I haven’t had the chance to say this but, your new look is drop dead gorgeous.” They shoved their hands in their pockets, and leaned down to Lew’s eye level. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of having a cute, alternative partner.”

Lew rolled her eyes, a genuine smile gracing her features. “Jemon Morale, where the hell did this confidence come from?”

“You know,” Jem closed the space, framing both sides of her face with their hands, “when three of your friends are presumed dead, you typically get a clearer outlook on life. Carpe diem, all that shit. Live every day like it’s your last.” Jem brushed her hair out of Lew’s face gently. “And I promised myself that if I ever got the chance to see you again, I wouldn’t screw it up.”

Jem leaned down getting within an inch of her lips, and they asked the simple question floating in the air with their eyes. Lewellyn answered by closing the inch and finally kissing Jem. Their lips moved slowly, and in sync with in another. Jem lightly caressing Lew’s lips with their tongue along the way. After one last, long kiss the pulled away.

“One, I’ve passed the verdict that the fangs are hot.” Jem quipped, earning them a smack on the arm. “Two, I’d say I took your breath away but I don’t think you need to breath.”

Lew playfully pushed them back again, this time more mindful of her strength. She hooked her arm through Jem’s and walked with them. Jem updated her in what was going on at Academy and she explained what happened the night she went missing. Although it’s still blurry for her, she tried her best.

By the time they reached a large manor, they both were slightly out of breath from laughing. Jem looked up at the extensive decor and immediately felt under dressed. Lew stepped inside, her hand linked with Jem’s and she looked around before entering.

“Did you sneak out?” Jem quipped.

Lewellyn tilted her head back and forth, as if weighing the options, “Well, yes and no. I’m not a prisoner here, but I also shouldn’t be bringing a human here.”

“Well, at least you’re aware of that.” A voice spoke, coming from the left of the foyer. Lew and Jem jumped, pulling each other close. Standing in the shadows were two people, that Jem could only assume to be vampires.

The one who spoke was a lean man, with dark skin. He had short, curly hair, and was wearing fine, purple robes. He stood there, with a clearly unimpressed look on his face. Lewellyn and him shared a tense look that Jem would swear they could see the electricity between them. The other vampire was a tall, slender woman. With medium toned skin and black hair with a blue tint to it. She had grey eyes and wore a simple black gown.

The female vampire was the next one to speak up, “Hi, I’m Mercy and this is Romy. Welcome to our manor.” She approached them and offered her hand. “Let me fix you some tea, and let these two sort some things out.”

Jem looked to Lew, who -after a moment- nodded. Jem took Mercy’s hand as she led him through the dining room into the kitchen. Everything in the manor was well crafted, made from solid wood. Antique furniture and dishes were the only things that could be seen. Other than a few stray phones and a television set.

Once they reached the kitchen, Jem sat down at the table. They simply stated, “Listen, I don’t want to cause any trouble. If Romy doesn’t want me here, I can leave.”

As the water began to heat, Mercy sat down across from Jem. “It has nothing to do with you. Romy and Lew have some underlying tension they need to deal with. It’s not fair to you to have to leave just because they’re being stubborn.”

Jem gave an awkward nod in response. After a moment in silence, Jem attempted a subject change. “I assume you don’t really get the chance to cook very often for guests, huh?”

Mercy shook her head, “Not for guests, no. Depending how long you stay here, you’ll see how things work.”

After a few minutes of idle conversation, Lew entered the kitchen. She was visibly frustrated but lightened up upon seeing Jem. It was getting to be early in the morning, and Jem technically had class to get to (that they would’ve skipped anyways). Jem couldn’t see the sun through the curtains, but Jem put the pieces of that puzzle together quite easily.

Lew grabbed Jem’s hand, wished Mercy a good sleep, and led them up to her room. As if tonight hadn’t happened, Lew and Jem began to undress. Just to get comfortable enough to relax in bed together. Jem kept their uniform pants on, without the belt. While Lewellyn went to the in suite bathroom to change into some silky pajamas.

She climbed into bed next to them, and immediately began playing with Jem’s hair. “Is this okay?”

“You’re seriously asking a person if sleeping in the same bed is okay?” Jem joked.

Lew giggled shyly, tucking her face into her pillow slightly. “I mean, everything. You might just be on a high because you missed me but this isn’t exactly something you can change your mind about.”

“No ones changing their mind here.” Jem reassured, taking one of Lew’s hands and kissing it gently. “I said it before, and I meant it. I lost you once Lewellyn V’lain, and I’m not gonna screw this up.” Lew smiled gently, slowly closing her eyes.

“Good night, Jem.” Lew whispered into the night.

Jem smiled, closing their eyes as well. “I almost miss you already.”

The next day, Jem woke up when they felt tender little kisses on the back of their neck. The memories from last night flashing before them, and they realized how happy they were. They didn’t even want to look at the clock, but they knew they must’ve been out for hours. The best sleep they’ve had since they came to England.

Jem turned over to face Lew, who smiled at them warmly. Jem was a little taken aback because Lew’s eyes were flickering between her natural blue and gold. Her fangs were extended and it seemed like she hadn’t even noticed yet. Jem, motioned to their mouth, hoping that would explain it.

“What? Do I have morning breath?” Lew joked, but then felt her fangs brush against her lips. She gasped, shooting up in bed. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Jem, still sleepy, sat up with her. “Don’t be, I’m assuming it happens once in awhile. I’m not bothered by it.”

“Only when I forget to feed. I’m not exactly accustomed to my new diet yet.” Lewellyn admitted, embarrassed.

Jem, now more awake, kissed Lew on the cheek. Their voice however, was scratchy and deep from just waking up. “Yeah, keto’s a bitch.”

Lew playfully flicked Jem’s nose, “Not funny. I have some bags downstairs. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lew got up from the bed, but Jem was slightly faster. They scrambled to the edge of the bed, grabbing Lew’s wrist gently. “Wait.” Lew gave them a questionable look but stilled. “Okay, you can say no. But, if you’re okay with it and you think you can do it, you could feed off me.”

Lew’s eyes flicked gold again. Clearly, her primal instincts enjoyed the offer but Lew still didn’t seem so sure. “I haven’t exactly done that a lot. Mercy has been teaching me slowly.”

“Who’s better to practice on than someone who trusts you,” Jem propositioned. They dragged Lew forward, placing her hand on their chest to feel their heartbeat, “with everything that I am.”

Lew gazed lovingly down at them, and felt herself being drawn to them. She straddled their hips, cradling their face in her hands. “You’re sure?”

Jem kissed her palm, maintaining complete eye contact as they did it. “Yes.”

Lew nodded, leaning down and capturing their lips. Moving slowly against theirs, it was sweet. No lust or hunger, just the raw affection they felt for each other. She pushed Jem down gently, lying them flat on their back. Slowly, Lew left wet, opened mouth kisses down Jem’s jawline and continuing down the neck.

Eventually, she found the vein. Pulling her hair over on shoulder to ensure nothing would get in the way. With her index finger, she stroked the vein lightly, sending a shiver down Jem’s spine. Then ever so slowly, Lew dipped down and placed her fangs over Jem’s neck. With that, she sunk her fangs into them.

Jem grabbed Lew’s hips, shocked by the sudden pain. But the pain quickly turned pleasure as the blood rushed to their head. Jem desperately tried to keep their moans in, completely embarrassed but at the same time this was unlike anything they had ever felt. Every nerve in their body tingled as they felt their blood rush through every inch of their body.

Never before had Jem felt this relaxed in spite of the pleasure coursing through them. It was an intimacy they had only ever dreamed about. With Lewellyn, in this moment, they felt safe. Loved. Cherished. And they wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Lewellyn finally pulled away, seemingly out of breath. She quickly used her fangs to prick her finger and used that to seal over the wounds in Jem’s neck. She pulled back to look them in the eyes. Both Lew’s and Jem’s pupils were blown wide.

Jem let out a breathless laugh, “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Lew giggled, leaving them with one more passionate kiss. “Wow.” She stood up, completely reenergized. “Do not stand up. You need a cookie or something or lose you’ll faint.”

Jem gave a playful salute, “Yes Ma’am.”

(BONUS:)

Throughout the rest of the day, Jem and Lew walked through the manor. Mercy answered any and all questions she could about vampirism and Jem finally felt like they understood a little better.

When dusk fell, Jem and Lew were sitting on the staircase when Romy came to join them. “Will you be staying another night?”

“In all honesty, I should probably get back to the Academy before they clear my shit out.” Jem admitted, standing up. “But I might swing by later if I’m allowed.”

Romy nodded, “As long as you don’t bring any of your friends with you, I think we can agree.”

Romy and Lew walked Jem into the foyer. Just then, Umbra entered the manor, Volstigg on his tail. Romy threw his hands up in the air, completely giving up and turned around towards his study. Umbra continued his stride over to Jem, who was excited to see their friend again.

“Hey, how’d you find-“ Their voice was cut off due to Umbra’s fist connecting with their stomach. The wind got completely knocked out of them.

Umbra huffed, clenching and unclenching his fist in pain. “We share a find your IPhone, remember? In case we went missing? Remember idiot?!” Umbra breathed out a sigh, finally turning to Lew. It took him a second to actually register who she was. Umbra’s eyes shot up and blurted out, “Oh my god, Jem you found her.”

The only response was Jem’s groan in pain.

#campaign 1 #jem #mercy #lewellyn #laufi #alveyn #volstigg #romy #umbra #Aerilyn #my ocs #friend ocs #my writing #au week

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slash-em-up · 4 years

Text

Marry Your Monsters Pt. 9

When one door closes, look for another door.

TW: Self-harm, suicide attempt.

---------------------------------------

‘What the fuck just happened?’

That was the only thought racing through Miranda’s head as she stared, stunned, at the brushed metal of the door her husband had fled through.

The ache in her shoulders and the broken furniture confirmed the violence of the last few minutes; but the reality of it was so different from the man she’d known for over a decade that her brain couldn’t – it wouldn’t – come to the obvious conclusion.

Jesse and she were both passionate people and they’d had their fights like any couple… but Miranda has never feared what her husband might do to her, until the moment his hands wrapped around her and she looked into a ferocious gaze she was wholly unfamiliar with.

She rose on shaking legs, wandering absently back to the bathroom where her dress lay discarded on the floor.

The bare medicine cabinet met her gaze as she glanced up past the sink out of habit.

Miranda realized unhappily what had probably happened to the mirror.

Well, if Jesse thought she was just going to roll over and let him do whatever without her having her say… he was in for a big surprise.

She was no ones doormat, punching bag, or fuck-doll god dammit.

Pulling her dress up with a yank she turned and marched to the door and out into the hallway, prepared to give Jesse the biggest piece of her mind to date; only to come to a screeching halt at the flurry of activity in the main room.

Shrieking and sparking machines spat out heat and noise as several men held what looked like wickedly formed knives to grindstones - while another group unloaded shining, waxed wooden coffins from the back of a truck.

Miranda pulled herself back behind the wall and watched as Spann and Preston walked into the large room. They appeared deep in conversation – meaning Preston talked as Spann followed with a vaguely annoyed look on her face – and at a word from Preston several of the black-clad workers scurried away to another part of the warehouse Miranda couldn’t see.

What the fuck was going on here?

Moving quietly, Miranda slunk back into the main room, keeping as close to the wall as she could to avoid detection. Somehow, she managed to make it to the opposite hall without getting caught.

She mentally patted herself on the back.

A cadre of gleaming metal doors met her gaze as she turned to survey her surroundings and she huffed in annoyance.

Of course, there wasn’t going to be a big blinking sign with ‘Shady Business Dealings’ pointing her in the right direction.

Listening hard for any movement she gingerly began testing the doors.

Locked, locked, locked... jackpot.

The hinges were silent as the unlocked office slid open, allowing Miranda to slip inside.

Fuck, that’s a lot of black.

The room looked like something Marilyn Manson would approve of – Hot Topic chic at its lamest.

‘All you guys are missing is the evil cat... literally one step from cartoon villainy...’

A soft snort of amusement escaped Miranda as she wandered through the office – glancing casually at the thin folders – black – the computer – black – the gleaming desk – also black... until she came to a stack of half a dozen video tapes. All labeled with what looked to be city names and some numerical indicator.

The closest case read ‘Miami #1’ in neat print.

Glancing back to the doorway, Miranda strained for any sound indicating someone was coming her way.

Nothing.

She gently lowered herself into the desk chair and reached to tap on the keyboard, bringing the computer back to life.

The desk drawers were unlocked, allowing her to peer inside as she waited for the home screen to pop up.

She reached into the depth of one and carefully withdrew a large, mean-looking knife with a serrated double-spine. There were small flecks of brown embedded in the ridges.

Shit...

This was getting worse and worse by the second.

Maybe her initial panicked thought that Jesse was into gun-smuggling or drug-dealing hadn’t been too far off.

Either way, she owed it to herself and any future she might have with her husband to find out the truth.

Hesitantly, Miranda slowly inserted ‘Miami #1’ into the computer’s drive.

She pressed play.

“... I know you only paid for a blowjob but... don’t you want a little more?”

--------------------------------

“Jesse, there’s been some questions raised as to your ability to continue on as the head of this Organization.”

The nitrile gloves stretched to near breaking as Jesse’s hands clenched.

He just bet there had...

There were very few people in the world who could bring ChromeSkull to heel and unfortunately the five faces staring at him from beyond the large screen in his office fit that description.

The Board felt the need to directly step-in for the first time in over a decade.

Jesse had made sure this was a very, very rare occurrence.

Efficiency and brutality were his trademark, no matter how Preston whined that he was too showy; he got the god damn job done.

For the last eight years as he’d led the Organization after his grandfather retired, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d talked to all of the board members at once.

His fingers flew angrily across the keyboard.

‘Whatever information you’ve been given is incorrect. My injuries are healing and I’m ready to continue the work.’

An older man with a large handlebar moustache raised a bushy brow at his answer.

“It ain’t so much that you’re not healin’ well. It’s the... Aw hell... how do I say this... It’s your outside relationships we’re concerned about.”

A stern looking woman took over.

“Our source has reservations about your wife – and how she might be influencing your behaviors.”

Jesse blinked behind his mask.

‘My wife has nothing to do with my business here.’

“Except apparently, as of yesterday, she does. Is it not correct that she’s there in the facility with you now?”

If Jesse could have, he would have strangled Preston on the spot.

‘She is.’

“And did you or did you not fall into a ‘emotional state’ when a criticism of your wife’s presence was made?”

‘If you're asking if I disciplined my insubordinate second for making an off-color comment about my pregnant wife, then yes. I did.’

Jesse felt what was left of his lips curl into a snarl at the memory.

‘...And I’ll do a lot more than that when I get my hands on him after this ridiculous waste of time is finished...’ he mentally promised.

Significant glances were sent from board member to board member and Jesse felt his stomach sink.

“I think we’ve heard enough...”

Jesse slammed his fist into the desk, leaving a dent in the metal surface and bringing all attention back to him.

‘You could at least say ‘thank you’ for handling your Cannon problem before we part ways.’

That visibly surprised the five people on the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Gotcha.

‘Jessica Cannon is here. Sleeping off a nice cocktail of sedatives in a coffin.’

Jesse leaned back in his chair as murmurs of disbelief and shock rattled across the computer speakers.

“... That’s very interesting news, Jesse. When did this happen?”

‘Probably while Preston was busy feeding you all his load of bullshit. Sorry, I was getting some real work done.’

“You know who she is then?”

Jesse smirked.

‘You mean, do I know who her father is? Yes. I’m aware. Feel free to send him a little love note. I’ve already forwarded my video files to your server.’

Another quietly muttered conversation crackled over the speaker.

“Alright Jesse. We’ll keep things status-quo for now. But you need to clean house.”

‘I couldn’t agree more...’

Preston was going to wish he’d never been born once Jesse was done with him.

His torturous plotting was interrupted by one final voice.

“And that includes your wife. Bring her onboard or... handle her. We can’t have loose ends.”

The screen went black.

------------------------------------------

Miranda stared into the blackness on the computer feeling everything and nothing all at once.

A hysterical voice in her head was yelling how that had certainly explained a lot.

The long business trips, the unexplained scars, the fucking three months without a word.

She supposed getting your face ripped off and your skull bashed in would make video chats a little awkward.

The next thing she knew she was crouching on the cold cement floor emptying her stomach into the waste basket.

All those bodies... those women in the barn... her husband... her Jesse... holding the knife currently sitting so placidly on the desk and using it to decapitate a naked, crying blonde...

She vomited again as the gruesome pictures looped through her head.

She’d been in shock at the end of ‘Miami #1’. Her fingers were trembling and her mind racing as she quickly fed ‘Miami #2’ into the player.

Now she wasn’t sure what she was feeling besides horror.

And there were so many more tapes...

One of the drawers held fucking dozens of them.

Miranda lifted herself to lean against the desk and began to ram her coiled hand into it as hard as she could.

The pain felt... exquisite.

Tears began to stream down her face and her mouth shifted into a rictus grin as she saw smears of blood start to stain where her fists collided with the solid surface.

The clatter of metal on cement made her pause, and her gaze shifted from the blood-stained desk to the razor-sharp knife that had been knocked to the floor as she’d rattled it’s resting place.

Miranda choked out a laugh.

How many people had died on the edge of this knife? How many wives? Husbands? Sons? Daughters?

Why was she the exception to Jesse’s bloodlust?

Maybe she wouldn’t be.

Maybe that would be the eventual end to all this.

Wife murdered by serial-killing husband.

How anti-climactic.

She reached out and took the knife in her bloodied hand. Dispassionately taking in every little detail as the dull roar of her thoughts got louder and louder.

A sob echoed through the office as she leveled the sharp edge to her wrist and pressed down.

#jesse cromeans x mrs. cromeans #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #laid to rest (2009)#chromeskull: laid to rest 2 #tw: suicide attempt #we gettin angsty here people #and I get to play around with The Organization a bit #hang on things are about to get dialed up quite a bit in the next few chapters #Get The Cromeans Marriage Counseling 2k20 #tw: self harm #jessica writes #horror movies #slasher fiction

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faveficarchive · 4 years

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Summer's Circus: Part 1

By Barbara Davies

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle (uber)

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Summer Walsh owns a struggling circus with a dark history. When journalist Alison Carmichael walks through her Big Top, though, things might just start looking up for the distant Ringmaster.

It was late Wednesday evening when the last trailer finally limped on site. Summer watched anxiously as it eased its way between the other trailers, caravans, and vans to its designated spot, its tyres leaving huge ruts in the turf.

So much for 'Flaming June'. Rain had soaked the work crews as they pulled down the Big Top and loaded the unwieldy poles and sections of canvas onto the long trailer kept specially for the purpose; rain had streamed down her van's windscreen every second of the journey by tortuous, winding B road; and it was *still* raining, the hills surrounding Cheltenham almost invisible through the downpour.

She sighed. At least Cox's Meadow had turned out to be a proper field, she consoled herself, not one of those derelict building sites that were all most councils could seem to spare these days. She wondered who Cox was and what he would have made of the meadow that was rapidly turning into a swamp. For this they were paying £1,000 a week? Tomorrow they'd have to get the boards out - couldn't expect the public to wade through mud. She rubbed her forehead tiredly.

"Headache, boss?" Pyotr Dyakonov had come up behind her, unheard in the pelting rain.

"Yeah," Summer confessed. "Just the usual 'Will we be ready in time,' 'Will people like us enough to pay to see us' kind of headache."

"We always are; they always do," said the acrobat complacently.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "I thought Russians were s'posed to be pessimists."

He shrugged. "Things always seem to work out OK when you're around, Boss."

Summer snorted. "Yeah, right."

"It's true," protested Pyotr, stroking his moustache.

"Tell that to Uncle Tommy," she murmured, too low for Pyotr to hear. She turned away and began the tricky process of picking her way carefully between the ruts and puddles towards her caravan.

***

Alison replaced the telephone receiver and let a broad grin plaster itself over her face. "Tomorrow, I'm going to the circus!"

For a moment she allowed herself to feel the excitement she had felt as a little kid, even hopped up and down a bit, then she sobered. This wasn't for pleasure - well, maybe just a bit. This was her chance to prove she could hack it, to call herself 'freelance journalist' and mean more than the book reviews and column fillers that were the only things on her CV so far.

She paced up and down, hardly seeing the little sitting room, considering what to take with her. Her camera, of course. The article would be nothing without pictures, but she was good at photography - she could probably come up with something colourful and spectacular. Her tape recorder. Some spare batteries, a pen and notepad, just in case.

If all went well, she'd be interviewing each of the performers, maybe even the owner of the circus herself. Summer Walsh; what an unusual first name. Alison crossed to the table and rechecked her notes. Yes, it *was* Summer. And not many British circuses were owned by women, according to her research.

Would that make the interview harder, she wondered suddenly. Men were so easy - you just dressed femininely, batted your eyelashes, and simpered. Her Mother had taught her how to flirt with them from an early age, and then been devastated to learn it had been a waste of time. She sighed, remembering how difficult it had been coming out to her mother, how she had wished that her father had been alive to take her part as he always had.

She shook off the melancholy memory, and her doubts. "I can do this," she told herself. "I *will* do this." After all, all circus owners, regardless of their gender, would welcome a chance of free publicity, wouldn't they?

Alison remembered the circuses of her youth, full of horses, elephants, tigers, and lions. These days British circuses without animals were the norm - unrelenting pressure from animal rights protestors and the RSPCA had seen to that. She wondered if the show could possibly be as magical without animals.

Well, tomorrow night she'd see for herself, wouldn't she.

***

"Out of the question." Summer glared at the man who had barged into her office five minutes earlier, and who, rather disconcertingly, reminded her of an orangutan. (It must be the ginger hair and long arms, she decided.)

"I don't think you quite understand." His earlier affability had vanished.

"What's to understand?" she demanded. "I have all the permits and licenses I need. Why should I want to spend more than I have to?"

So far she had managed to keep a tight rein on her temper, but it was getting increasingly difficult. Especially since she was exhausted from helping the work crews to assemble the tiered seating inside the Big Top.

"For a quiet life," he said. "For oiling the wheels of progress -"

"For greasing your palms, you mean." If he thought the sunglasses and leather jacket made him look cool, thought Summer, he was wrong.

"Call it what you like, Ms Walsh. But I think you'd be very unwise not to -"

"I said 'no'. I meant it."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

Summer stood up, placed her hands firmly on the desk and leaned forward, fixing the man with a feral glare from which, to her satisfaction, he flinched. "You're just running a glorified little protection racket, aren't you? Well, no deal." She bared her teeth at him. "You haven't met Tonio and Marcello yet, have you? They're strongmen, they perform under the stage name Men-o-War. I'm sure, if you met them, you'd understand why."

Her visitor was already backing towards the door, looking anxiously through the glass as though expecting the two strongmen to be waiting outside for him. Which, if she'd known he was coming, they would have been, she thought sourly.

"This is probably the worst decision you've made, lady -"

"What happened to 'Ms Walsh?’"

"- in a long, long time."

As he disappeared, like a rat up a drainpipe, she wondered gloomily if he might not just be right.

***

Alison halted just inside the tasseled blue-and-white marquee that was the Big Top, and surveyed her surroundings. It would hold about four hundred people, she judged, but it was barely a quarter full. She checked her watch. There was still ten minutes before the performance was scheduled to begin, but she was doubtful the place would fill up.

She tried to get a sense of the kind of people that had come to the circus. Some were parties of adults only, chattering excitedly to one another; some were adults with children, the parents wearing longsuffering looks; and some, like herself, were alone, their wistful expressions indicating a desire to recapture the magical experience of their youth.

Alison suppressed a smile and searched for Block D. Ah, there it was - the far side of the tiered seating, near the ramp that led from the ring to backstage. She eased herself along the row of tip-up seats until she came to the one that matched the A9 on her ticket stub then sat down gratefully.

She made herself as comfortable as possible on the very basic seat then opened the brochure, emblazoned: 'SUMMER'S CIRCUS', that had cost her a pound. As she had feared, it consisted mainly of advertisements for ice-cream and hotdogs - but a loose sheet of A4 itemized tonight's running order.

She closed the brochure and leaned back, squinting first at the apex of the Big Top high above, then at the trapezes, wires and safety ropes a little below it, then at the ring itself - not covered with sawdust, these days, she noted - which was a lot smaller than her childhood memories had led her to expect. Not bad, she decided, feeling pleased with herself - she should be able to see the performers close to as they came up the ramp into the ring. She pulled her camera from her pocket and hung its strap round her neck ready.

A group of well dressed people - businessmen and women and civic dignitaries by the look of them, one overweight man even wore a chain of office round his neck - approached her block and began to take their seats in the front row. A rather striking dark-haired woman was directing them - her scarlet jacket had wide lapels and tails, and she was wearing a matching bow tie.

The woman smiled brilliantly and said, "I hope you enjoy the show." Alison eyed her with interest.

"I'm sure we will, Ms Walsh," said the man with the chain.

So that was the mysterious Summer Walsh? Well, well.

As the scarlet-clad woman strode away, Alison found that she was suddenly looking forward to interviewing the circus owner.

***

Summer made her way backstage. It was chaos; organized chaos - at least she fervently hoped so.

"Five minutes to the Overture," she yelled. "Everyone okay?"

"Okay, Boss," came the chorus of replies.

She stepped over the pile of baseball bats that looked like wood but weren't. They belonged to Egor and Maks who were due on first after the Overture. As she negotiated the clowns' other props: a foam rubber hatchet, a scrawny looking chicken, and a huge inflatable ball that after the Intermission would be bounced off the audience's heads to screams of fear and delight, her mind returned to the mayor's party.

"Pompous ass," she muttered. He had insisted on complimentary tickets for his wife and colleagues too. "Does he think we're made of money?"

Summer knew the figures all too well. Just to survive, the circus needed three thousand customers a week. Paying customers, like that little blonde who had been sitting just behind the mayor and his cronies. Her thoughts dwelt pleasantly on the woman's interested green eyes for a moment, then she remembered her intention to see how the Ticket Office was getting on.

She was heading for the office wagon at breakneck speed - she had barely ten minutes before she was needed in the ring - when she noticed that a weaselly little pickpocket was working the queue.

With a growl of anger, she somersaulted neatly over the goggling members of the public and launched herself at the man whose hand was about to delve into an unsuspecting customer's coat pocket.

He took one startled look at her and tried to bolt - but by then she had him by the back of his coat collar.

"'Ere, what d'ya think you're - Ulp!" His protest became a strangled squawk as an arm strengthened by years of trapeze work held him effortlessly six inches above the ground.

"Going somewhere?"

He struggled briefly then stopped and concentrated on simply breathing.

"You have a choice, sunshine," growled Summer. "You can spend this evening down the nearest police station...or..." She lifted him higher and watched him think through the implications.

The thief smiled rather glassily at her. "No harm done, lady," he babbled. "I was just looking after a few things for their owners. Know what I mean?"

She lowered her arm, and saw relief wash over his face as his feet touched the ground again. Then she released her grip on his coat collar and held out her hand meaningfully. "Give."

Reluctantly he reached into deep raincoat pockets and began to pile purses and wallets and wristwatches into Summer's hands. From the Big Top came faint music, the first bars of the Overture, reminding her that time was passing.

"Need a hand, Boss?" Tonio and Marcello had joined the little crowd of bystanders watching the proceedings as though it were part of the evening's entertainment.

She nodded, relieved to see them. "I'm due in the ring. Make sure these -" she pushed the pile of purses and wallets into Tonio's huge fists "- are returned to their rightful owners. Most'll have some kind of ID or photo in them, I expect. The rest - well, you may have to ask members of the audience to check if anything's missing."

She rubbed a hand tiredly across her forehead, annoyed at the extra work the thief had caused. If she reported him to the police, even more time would be lost. No police, then. Unless...Suddenly, she remembered the orangutan who had tried to sell her protection.

"You," she turned back to the thief. "Who are you working for?"

"No-one. I'm strictly freelance."

Summer put on her best scowl and took a threatening step towards him.

"Honest." He raised a shaking hand in defence.

She nodded. "Okay. One other thing."

The still unnerved thief looked expectantly at her.

"If I catch you in my circus ever again, I'll let these two - " she indicated the strong men examining the stolen booty "- tear you to pieces. And have no doubts, they can do it, too." She glared at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

The thief winced. "As crystal."

"Now, get out of my circus."

The thief needed no further urging.

***

The Overture ended with a flourish (*Also Sprach Zarathustra*, if she wasn't mistaken) and Alison clapped appreciatively. It amused her that such a tiny orchestra - two men, a drumkit, and what looked like a steam powered synthesizer - was capable of generating music with such power and volume. Circus people, she was rapidly learning, were nothing if not resourceful.

The ringmaster had just stridden into the ring - she recognized the dark-haired woman in the scarlet jacket immediately - when Alison became aware that a big man in black sweatshirt and jeans was easing his way along the row of seats towards her. She frowned.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said politely, as he got nearer, easing her fears, "but is this yours?" He was holding out a wallet similar to the one she owned and pointing to a strip of passport photographs.

Abruptly, she recognized the unflattering snaps she had had taken at the Post Office photo kiosk last week. She gasped and felt for the pocket where she usually kept her wallet. It was empty.

"That's mine. But how did you? I mean - "

The man smiled and handed her the wallet. "Pickpocket was working the Ticket Office queue," he said simply. "The Boss caught him. Persuaded him to return the stolen goods."

There was a subtle emphasis on the 'persuaded' that piqued Alison's interest, as did his accent, which was, she realized, foreign. She checked the contents of the wallet, and was relieved to find that nothing was missing. "'The Boss?’ You mean, Ms Walsh?"

"Yes. Everything there? Sorry to rush you, but I've got several more owners to locate."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, everything's here, but -"

But the man was already turning to go. "Enjoy the show, Miss," he called back to her.

Still feeling rather stunned by this turn of events, Alison turned her attention back to the ring. The attractive ringmaster had disappeared and two short men with unwieldy moustaches and red noses, dressed in appalling yellow-and-black checked suits and bow ties, were starting to hit each other with baseball bats.

***

The trouble with seeing the show from the inside, thought Summer, was that, unlike the appreciative audience - who were clapping wildly at every little thing - you were all too aware when things didn't go right.

For example, the music had started off slightly too fast, but Ruud and Jan had quickly corrected that. Then Egor had tripped over one of Maks' big feet but had deftly turned it into an extra piece of ' business'. And Grigori had almost dropped one of his flaming torches, but an extra flourish distracted the audience from his mistake.

The ringmaster sighed. No matter how often and thoroughly they rehearsed, it was always the same. First-performance-in-a-new-town nerves. But as the evening progressed, she could feel the nerves calming, the professionalism of the performers taking over.

But it was time to announce the next act. She strode out into the ring, fixed a smile on her face, and clicked on the microphone.

"And now, for your enjoyment, Summer's Circus presents, all the way from Greece: the *stupendous* Miss Clio."

She gestured extravagantly towards the maroon velvet curtain that hid backstage, and, right on cue, a petite figure in a pale pink leotard appeared and bounded up the ramp to join her.

"Break a leg, Clio," she murmured. Her reward was a dazzling smile.

Summer withdrew, and watched Clio go into her act.

First came the smile and wave to the audience, then the Greek woman reached for her little ladder and began to climb, adjusting her balance constantly so that the unsupported ladder would remain vertical. When she was settled, Andor, her young male assistant, appeared, carrying a pile of cups and saucers, and proceeded to throw them to her one by one. Almost nonchalantly, Clio would catch each cup or saucer and then throw it up so that it landed on the top of her head. Gradually a stack of alternating cups and saucers grew.

Summer had had no doubts at all, when she'd first seen Clio's act, that she was a must for the circus. On paper, catching cups and saucers while balancing on a ladder was a nonstarter, but in real life there was something about the precision and skill displayed by the young Greek woman that made the audience hold its breath.

As Clio caught yet another saucer, and was greeted with wild applause, Summer's thoughts turned inwards.

It looked like her gamble that the affluent Cheltonians would flock to the circus hadn't paid off - the Ticket Office receipts had confirmed what her squinted glances into the spotlights told her: the Big Top was only half full tonight. What with the appalling weather, the orangutan demanding protection money, the pickpocket ripping off customers, and the question of what would happen when Uncle Tommy discovered his least favourite niece was back on his patch. She sighed.

A teaspoon landed with a loud clink in the topmost saucer, and the audience went mad. Clio's act was winding down. Almost time to announce the aerialists, thought Summer, rising to her feet.

The Finale had met with sustained and enthusiastic applause, and the two man band was playing music calculated to get the audience heading for the exits, when Summer went round backstage congratulating the acts and patting people on the shoulders. There had been no major mishaps, and everyone was feeling relieved.

She was looking forward to a shower, a hot meal, and an early night, and was half way to her caravan, when she remembered she had rashly agreed to see a journalist - Alison Carsomething - about a possible article on the Circus.

She groaned, and trudged over the waterlogged ground towards the trailer that housed both the Administration and Ticket offices.

A blonde woman was waiting for her outside the Admin office. She looked vaguely familiar, thought Summer, traipsing up the short flight of steps.

"Ms Car-" She trailed off.

"Alison Carmichael," said the woman helpfully. "And you must be Summer Walsh." She held out a hand.

Summer grunted, gave the hand a perfunctory shake, then began to unlock the door. "Come in."

She switched on the light, and crossed the office to the battered old desk. The journalist followed her inside, glancing at the dingy interior assessingly. Hmmm, thought Summer, having noticed the camera around her visitor's neck, I don't imagine you want to take a photo of *this* for your article, Ms Carmichael.

She dragged a plastic chair from its place by the wall and indicated it before moving round behind the desk. The journalist sat down. Summer did likewise.

"I really enjoyed the show tonight, Ms Walsh."

"Thanks."

After a moment's silence, the blonde woman realized Summer wasn't going to say any more and picked up the conversation. "Um, we spoke on the phone, about the possibility of my doing interviews with you and with your performers."

Summer nodded.

"So, I was wondering..." The journalist bit her lip.

Summer glanced at the message pad where she had written details of their telephone conversation and frowned. What had she been thinking? "I don't seem to have made a note of which paper you write for, Ms Carmichael," she said apologetically.

"Oh, well - " A slight flush covered the blonde woman's cheeks. "I'm a freelance, but several publications have expressed an interest in the article -"

Summer realized abruptly that there was no point in continuing this conversation. "Then I'm afraid it would be better if we didn't waste each other's time, Ms Carmichael," she interrupted.

The look on the other woman's face made Summer aware that her bluntness had been misinterpreted as offensiveness.

"By the time you've written it and placed it, probably with a local paper," she explained, "the circus will have moved on. Such publicity will be of no benefit to us." She groaned inwardly, realizing that she had only made things worse.

A red spot now burned in each of the blond woman's cheeks. "But, you said on the phone..." Green eyes flashed with indignation.

Green eyes, thought Summer suddenly. Of course. The row of seats behind the mayor's party. Another headache was lurking behind her eyes. The sooner this was over, the better.

"I've changed my mind," she said, sounding more curt than she'd intended. "If you'll excuse me?" She stood up to indicate the interview was over.

Lips pressed in a grim line, the young woman snatched up her gloves and stalked off.

I could have handled that so much better, thought Summer regretfully as she watched the young woman stomp down the steps outside. She sighed, then switched off the light and locked the office door behind her.

As she walked down the steps herself, she glanced absently at the distant figure walking disconsolately towards the carpark. The rest of the paying audience had gone home, and a single pale green Fiesta remained. One of the carpark floodlights was out. Summer made a mental note to get it replaced, then noticed movement in the shadows. She stopped, her senses on alert. A mugger, or worse. And Alison Carmichael, her mind on other things, was heading straight for him.

The rush of adrenalin banished her tiredness and incipient headache instantly, and she broke into a run. "Look out," she called, even as she realized that running wasn't going to get her there in time and launched herself into a series of somersaults and flips.

The journalist had halted near her car and was looking back at her, mouth open in amazement. Summer growled as the figure in the shadows chose that moment to attack, and forced herself to move faster, feeling her muscles burn with the effort. The attacker - a man, by his build - had got an arm round the journalist's throat and was tugging her back into the shadows when Summer flipped over his head.

As she landed behind him, he glanced round, and the momentary distraction enabled the blond woman to break his grip round her throat. One punch with all Summer's weight behind it was enough to send him flying, and two kicks, one to the stomach, one to his unshaven jaw, rendered him out for the count.

Summer stooped over the man and checked his pulse. He was still breathing - she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She straightened, and rubbed her bruised knuckles ruefully, then became aware that the journalist was standing beside her.

"He attacked me!" mumbled the blond, her voice shaky, her breathing uneven. "Oh my God, if you hadn't -" She began to cry.

For moment, Summer stood frozen, then she pulled the sobbing journalist into an awkward hug. There was a moment's startled resistance, then Alison sagged into her embrace.

"It's okay," said Summer. "I've got you." She rubbed a hand soothingly over the other woman's back, encouraging her to cry herself out, her own mind churning. My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't been here...For Summer had no doubt at all that the attacker was working for the man who had tried to sell her protection that morning.

As the sobs dwindled to sniffs, and the tension in the muscles beneath her hands eased, her thoughts turned to the state of her ringmaster uniform. It hadn't been designed for people to cry on.

"Do you still want to do that article on the circus, Ms Carmichael?" Summer was as surprised by her own words as the journalist appeared to be.

"But you said -" The journalist took a step back, and Summer released her.

Colour had returned to the pale cheeks, and bewilderment, coupled with hope, had replaced the fear in the green eyes.

Summer smiled, partly in relief, and shrugged. "I've changed my mind."

The journalist considered for a moment. "What if you change your mind again?" she asked at last.

A fair question, Summer admitted, since from the journalist's point of view, she'd changed her mind twice already. "I won't," she said firmly. "If you want the interviews you asked for, you can have them."

A moment longer, then a smile split the blond woman's features and she nodded eagerly. "Please."

"Tomorrow, then, 10am," said Summer. "I'll give you a guided tour."

"Great."

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Summer sighed and glanced down at the still unconscious attacker.

"In the meantime," she said, "I suppose I'd better see about calling the police."

***

"It was great, Mother. There were clowns, and acrobats, and trapeze artists, and a woman who balanced at the top of a ladder while catching cups and saucers on her head...Yes, that's what I said. Um, it looked like real china from where I was sitting."

Alison could tell her mother wasn't impressed by her enthusiastic description of the circus. Opera was more the older woman's 'thing' - so much more 'adult'. No doubt her mother's opinion of the circus would sink even lower, if that were possible, if she told her about the pickpocket and the attack in the carpark...

She sighed and changed the subject to her coming interviews, then wished she hadn't.

"You're not still intending to be a journalist, are you, dear?" Her mother's tone was disapproving. "My goodness! I thought that was just a fad."

A fad! thought Alison. In fact, the dream of being a reporter had been with her since she was a child, but it was only recently she had decided to do anything about it. Coming out - to herself and to other people - she realized suddenly, had been the catalyst. It had strengthened her determination to live her own life not let others live it for her.

"No, Mother," she said evenly, "it's not a fad."

"It's not as if you need the money, dear."

Alison sighed. It was true that the Life Assurance from her father's death had left them both more than comfortably well off. But she wanted the satisfaction of paying her own way for a change.

"Mother, we've been through this."

"Well, if you *must* occupy yourself, dear, why don't you do some voluntary work? It's so much more...respectable."

"Mother." Alison had reached the end of her patience, and some sign of it must have travelled down the phone line because her Mother went quiet.

"Well, dear. Perhaps you know best." The tone made it clear her mother thought exactly the opposite. "It's past my bedtime, yours too if you're sensible. So I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother." Alison replaced the phone receiver and sighed.

The flat that was her pride and joy, her first taste of independence - she was twenty-seven, for heaven's sake; other people left home at eighteen - suddenly seemed drab and pokey. Perhaps it was the contrast with the Big Top and its colourful performers, not least among them the tall ringmaster.

Once more Alison heard the distant shout and turned to watch the ringmaster somersaulting towards her across the carpark. Once more she felt disbelief and bewilderment that the woman who had just dashed her hopes so rudely should be following her in such a spectacular way. Then came a jolt of terror as someone wrapped his arm around her throat. Followed by sheer relief, as Summer tackled the attacker and then held Alison close.

Alison swallowed over a suddenly dry throat, then laughed wryly at herself. What a strange evening it had been! And now here she was feeling gratitude, hero worship, and, if she were being honest, straightforward attraction for a woman who until this evening had been a complete stranger.

Even more ironic, being rescued by a circus owner would have made a *great* story, but Summer was concerned that a mugging might keep paying customers away. Since the policeman who took their statements didn't envisage any further involvement for either Summer or Alison (Alison, though severely shaken, hadn't actually been hurt, and the still groggy attacker had quickly realized it was in his own best interests to confess) Alison had agreed to keep the incident quiet.

Which was probably just as well, she thought sleepily, as the seesaw of raw emotions finally caught up with her. Because then, her mother wouldn't learn of the incident and come rushing over ready to sweep her daughter up and take her back to the claustrophobic home from which she had only just escaped.

Alison had feared the mugging would prey on her mind, but as she got herself ready for bed, she found to her relief and slight embarrassment that her head was full of the music of Strauss and images of clowns and acrobats and a tall, striking ringmaster with blue, blue eyes.

***

"It's going to be muddy, I'm afraid." Summer ushered the young journalist out of the admin office and down the metal steps.

"That's all right." Alison smiled back at her. "What's a little mud between friends?"

Summer raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They walked across the boggy field towards the Big Top.

"We call this the Back Yard." Summer ducked under the cordon that marked the area as off limits to the public, and began threading her way carefully between stakes and guy wires, generators and storage bins.

Alison hurried to keep up. "So," she said, holding out a small tape-recorder. "What made you decide to own your own circus, Ms Walsh?"

"If we're friends, you'd better call me Summer." The tape recorder, she noted absently, was voice-activated.

"Then you'd better call me Alison, or Ali."

Summer caught the faint hesitation. "Which would you prefer?"

"Alison, if you don't mind."

"Alison it is."

Summer held back the tent flap and waited for Alison to duck under it. "We call this the Back Door - it's the performers' entrance." She followed the journalist, her pupils adjusting quickly to the dim lighting of the backstage area.

"Hi, Boss." Egor came somersaulting over and stopped in front of them. "Who's the beautiful towny?"

The little clown's interested gaze was resting on Alison, who blushed. It suited her, thought Summer, suppressing a grin.

"That's what circus people call outsiders," she explained. Then to Egor, "This is Alison Carmichael. She's a local journalist, so be nice - we don't want any bad publicity."

"I thought any publicity was good publicity, Boss." Egor winked at her.

"Yeah, well you thought wrong."

Alison shot her a glance. "You don't have to worry," she said reassuringly. "I really loved the show last night."

"You did?" Summer felt her slight tension ease.

She guided Alison towards the maroon curtain separating backstage from the auditorium, then paused. "I should warn you before we get near the ring," she said, "don't, whatever you do, sit on the edge of it facing out."

Alison stared at her. "Why not?"

Summer shrugged. "It's bad luck."

The journalist leaned forward eagerly. "Oh! So you have your own set of superstitions, like theatre people do?"

"I suppose so. Peacock feathers are bad luck too. And whistling in the dressing room."

Alison's eyes danced and her tone was mock serious. "Okay. No whistling or peacock feathers, and no sitting on the ring's edge facing out. Got it."

Summer started to say something in defence of circus traditions then decided against it. She pulled back the curtain and they walked through.

The Dyakonovs were rehearsing their trapeze act high above the ring, and she stopped to allow Alison to watch. After a long moment, Alison tore her gaze away from the graceful flips and twirls, and Summer gestured towards a row of ringside seats. They covered the distance quickly and sat down.

"I noticed last night that most of the acts in your programme are foreign," said Alison. "Is that coincidence or policy? Or is it simply that Brits don't make good circus performers?"

"Hey! Are you saying I'm no good?" Summer smiled to remove the sting from her words. It was a good question, and she considered her answer. No need to mention that Uncle Tommy had made sure no British performer would work for her anyway, she decided.

"It's a question of cost, actually." Alison glanced at the sound level meter and moved the tape recorder closer to Summer's mouth then her gaze drifted upwards again. Summer smiled. She too felt the magnetic pull of the trapeze.

"When the USSR collapsed," she continued, "so did its circus funding. At their height, they had seventy permanent circuses, you know. That's about fifteen thousand performers."

Alison's startled gaze met hers. "Fifteen thousand?"

Summer nodded. "Which means that now the Russians are desperate for work and -" she spread her hands expressively "- very cheap."

"So *that's* why most of your acts are Russian?"

"Mmmm." Now it was Summer's turn to gaze up at the Dyakonov Troupe. Cheslav, she noted absently, was clasping Irisa's ankles in his brawny fists. "Though actually, the circus band is Dutch." Alison chuckled at the mention of the two musicians, and Summer glanced curiously at her. When no explanation was forthcoming, she let it go and continued. "The strong men are Portuguese. And Miss Clio, of course, is Greek. I take it you'd like to meet the company?"

"Please."

The journalist's obvious enthusiasm pleased Summer. Maybe it was because Alison was a freelance, she thought, and hadn't yet reached the embittered 'just going through the motions' stage.

A faint stomach rumble reached her ears, and she noticed Alison was blushing again.

"Haven't you had any breakfast?"

"Um, yes," admitted Alison. "But it was a couple of hours ago. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee and a biscuit, if you have them."

Summer rose to her feet. "I'm sure we can rustle up something." She was amused by the look of gratitude that flashed across the blond woman's face.

"Follow me."

***

The trailer that Summer called the 'cook wagon' was hot and fuggy and smelled absolutely wonderful. Coffee and doughnuts, thought Alison, identifying the aromas. Her stomach grumbled more loudly and her mouth began to water.

"It's help yourself in here," instructed the tall woman, busying herself with heating water for two cups of instant coffee. "Just take what you fancy."

"Okay."

While Summer carried their coffees to an empty table, Alison inspected the cardboard box of goodies and chose a large sticky, sugarcoated doughnut. Then she joined Summer and sat down opposite her. She placed the tape recorder on the table between them, and gazed at their spartan surroundings.

"So, this is where you all eat?"

Summer took a sip of coffee than nodded. "We can connect the wagon up to the mains water and power supplies. Not all sites provide access though, so then we have to make do with Calor gas and bottled water."

"I expect you've got moving between sites down to a fine art?" While she waited for an answer, Alison picked up her doughnut and took a bite. Brilliant red jam squirted down her chin and across the table. Fortunately, it didn't reach the ringmaster.

"Oh!" Alison's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment, but Summer just chuckled and reached for a paper napkin.

"I'm always doing that," she said consolingly. "Here."

"Thanks." Alison took the napkin and wiped her chin with it. "Um." Her mind had gone blank and the confusion must have shown on her face.

Summer took pity on her. "To answer your question, yes, after you've been on the road for a while - and this circus has been touring for years now - you get to know the drill." She took another gulp of coffee. "Circus people are pretty tough. Everyone helps with the build-up and pull-down."

"But the circus can't always run smoothly," prompted Alison.

"No. We've had our share of accidents, and some of our vehicles are aging - they're always breaking down. Fortunately, Grigori is a top notch mechanic as well as a juggler. What else?" Summer looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, two years ago, a generator caught fire - we were lucky it didn't burn down the Big Top. And last year we had a blowdown - that's when a storm blows the Big Top down."

Alison would have whistled but remembered their earlier talk of superstition and thought better of it. "That must have set you back a bit."

"Yes. Luckily we got it back up double quick - only missed one matinee. We can't afford to miss many performances."

Alison finished off her doughnut and wiped her hands on the napkin. "You're that close to the line?"

For a moment she thought the other woman wasn't going to answer, then Summer tapped the tape recorder pointedly and said, "Off the record?"

"Oh, okay." Alison pressed the pause button.

"Things are pretty tight at the moment. If they don't get better soon ?" The ringmaster's gaze was suddenly bleak.

"Can't you put up ticket prices?"

"We're already as high as we can go without putting audiences off." Summer shrugged. "Trouble is, we've got so much to compete with these days - TV, video, cinema - football. People just aren't as keen as they used to be on circuses. Especially circuses without animals." She grimaced. "It's a no win situation. If we use animals - we get attacked by the animal rights protestors; if we don't use them - the audiences stay away."

Alison frowned. "That's not fair."

"No, it isn't." Summer sighed.

The journalist suddenly remembered the tape recorder and pointed at it. Summer nodded, and she resumed recording.

"So why do you do it?" asked Alison.

"Do what?"

"Own your own circus. Keep on touring."

"It's in the blood," said Summer simply. "And," she gave Alison a wry smile, "I don't know how to do anything else."

As if regretting her sudden candour, the ringmaster looked away. "Have you had enough?" She indicated the empty plate.

"Oh, yes. That was great, thanks."

"Good. Because we've got quite a few introductions to get through, not to mention photographs."

Alison stood up at once. "Point me at 'em," she said brightly, pleased when the remark earned her a laugh from Summer.

The dark woman led the way out of the cook wagon.

***

Summer managed to prise Ruud and Jan Dekker away from their instruments and get them to talk to Alison. At first wary, the brothers soon opened up under the journalist's genial questioning, revealing a sheepish passion for Country and Western music that was news to Summer. Tonio and Marcello were glad to take a break from rehearsing, and were soon posing and flexing their rippling muscles while a suitably awed Alison took photographs. And Egor and Maks abandoned their discussion - heated, as always - of ways to improve their act and were only too happy to educate Alison in the intricacies and history of clown makeup.

Summer found watching Alison work relaxing, and she was letting the good natured banter flow over her, when Pyotr came running up, breathless.

"It's Cheslav," he said, without preamble. "He's sprained his wrist."

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?" Alison had come over to see what the aerialist's gloomy expression and Summer's unguarded exclamation were about.

"One of the catchers has sprained his wrist," explained Summer.

"Catchers?"

"A trapeze artist who catches," she said absently. Pyotr was looking expectantly at her. "The routine's the same?"

He nodded. "We added a few frills, but the basic moves are unchanged."

"Okay. Give me five minutes."

Summer regarded a bewildered Alison. "You'll have to look after yourself for the next hour, I'm afraid. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Uh, no. But...um, Summer, what are you going to be doing?"

"Taking Cheslav's place."

Alison's eyes widened. "Up on the trapeze? But I thought you were the ringmaster."

"I have many skills," said Summer nonchalantly.

#xena #Xena Warrior Princess #Xena/Gabrielle #uber #uberfic #mature #author: Barbara Davies

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foxyninjabear · 4 years

Text

A Hacker’s Tale - Chapter 5

[CHAPTER 1] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER]

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!: This fic is rated as PG-14+, so read at your own risk! There’s swearsies, suggestive references, and LOTS of blood and gore! Be aware!

_________________________________________

Sakura

“Bloom.”

Sakura faintly heard her code name being said, muffled by the grogginess of sleep clouding her brain. “Hmm...?”

“Bloom, it’s the morning.” The voice repeated. “And it’s time to meet up with your friends.”

The brunette cracked open her eyes a bit, and glanced over at where she presumed the door was. Her vision blurred as her surroundings got further and further away; she needed her glasses. She patted around her nightstand, felt for her glasses, and slipped them onto the bridge of her nose.

At the door was a familiar blonde man in a brown shirt, with bluish, almost purple eyes. He was introduced to her a few days prior; Zedaph, she believed his name was. He wasn't too bad. He was laid back, a decent person, and although a bit odd, he wasn't awful.

But a small thought crossed her mind for a moment. Why did he know her code name? She had never said anything before then. Not in her interrogation, not to any of the W.E.S. operatives. Nobody.

A familiar memory then popped into the brunette’s mind. Not long after her and every other member of the byte had met up, Lucky admitted that he had been forced to identify all members of the byte. But on the bright side, he had only used aliases, so their actual names weren’t revealed. That’s why Zedaph had called her Bloom.

Sakura sat up from her bed and yawned. “Alright…” She said, before taking the blanket off of her bed and wrapping around herself.

Zedaph raised a brow at the brunette. "Why are you bringing a blanket?" He asked.

She glanced up at the blonde and shrugged. "It's freezing down here," She answered, yawning a bit. "And I'm tired…"

The man was quiet for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. "...Alright." He answered, giving her a nod. "Now c'mon."

The brunette slowly stood up from her bed, shuffling over to the door and exiting her cell-like room. Alongside Zedaph, she waddled down the hallway, rubbing her tired eyes and wrapping the blanket further around her body as she shivered.

"I mean, you weren't wrong when you said it was cold down here," Zedaph said, chuckling a bit and wrapping his arms around himself. “I’m getting goosebumps myself!”

Sakura smiled a bit and laughed back. "Yeah…"

However, her smile soon faded with the sound of their soft chuckles. It might have been true that the underground bunker was chilly, even though it was the summertime. But it wasn’t her intention to keep warm. The blanket was only part of a plan.

A massive plot to break out and escape.

Before she knew it, she and Zedaph had arrived at the ‘meeting room’. In reality, it was more like a supply closet that had been emptied of everything except the unbearable amount of dust floating around. But is was better than nothing.

The blonde opened the door and allowed Sakura to walk inside. To her dismay, she saw that everyone else apart of her team was there before her. They must have been waiting on her again. She didn’t know the exact distance her cell was from the meeting room, but she could easily assume that it was the farthest out of everyone else’s.

But she didn’t have time to complain or apologize. They all had to get work done.

Sakura waited for Zedaph to lock the door, and once his footsteps echoed into silence, she opened her mouth to speak. “Okay, so what does everyone have?”

Everyone was silent for a second. But then Nix raised his hand, before he tossed something into the air in Sakura’s direction. Once the brunette caught it, she realized what it was, and her brown eyes widened; duct tape. Three brand new rolls of multicolored duct tape, still encased in their clear plastic packaging.

She lifted her eyes back up to the young medic, amazed. “Nix, where did you find this?” She asked.

Nix said nothing. He only shrugged and gestured to the door with his thumb. But Sakura did manage to see a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Either way, she was happy about what the medic had to offer. "Thank you, Nix. This will be very useful," She said, before shifting her gaze to the remaining members of the group. "Anyone else?"

"Yeah," Grey nodded, before tossing a bundle over to her. “All I got was a bedsheet,” He said, frowning a bit. "Sorry, kiddo."

Instead, Sakura smiled and shook her head. "No, this will do nicely," She assured as she tucked the roll under her mechanical arm. "Thank you, Grey." She then shifted her focus onto the rest of the byte. "Do any of you have anything else?"

Most of her colleagues shook their heads or said something along the lines of 'No'. But Coda, instead of having everyone else's reaction, she flashed a proud, sharp-toothed smile.

"I thought you'd never ask," She stated. "I managed to get somethin' fuckin' sweet. But I did have to hide it in an…" She then reached her hand up to grasp the zipper on her jumpsuit. "Interesting way."

It took a moment for Sakura to realize what Coda meant. And once she did, she felt her face turn a bright shade of red. "O-oh gosh…!"

Coda burst out laughing as the brunette averted her gaze and shielded her eyes with her hands. “Aww, don’t be shy!~”

Nightingale let out an annoyed sigh. “Just get it over with and show us what you have, Coda.”

“Yes, ma’am~”

“And keep it clean!”

Sakura could hear a zipper being undone, some cloth rustling, and then the zipper zipping back up. “A...are you done…?” She asked, her cheeks still burning.

“Yeah,” Coda replied, and the brunette sighed in relief. “You can turn ‘round now.”

Sakura hesitantly removed her hands from her face to look back at the creeper, and she saw two things. One, she indeed had her jumpsuit zipped back up, which Sakura was more than happy about. And two, to her amazement, Coda had something that would be more than useful; one of the metal trays that the W.E.S. employees were using to serve food.

The brunette’s eyes weren’t the only ones wide in shock. Synth, for example, appeared as if his jaw would drop to the floor at any moment. "How in the world did you manage to not draw any suspicion?" Synth asked.

Coda shrugged and smiled a bit. "Eh, I've got one of the stupid ones bringin' me meals.” She answered, handing off the tray to Sakura. “Guy forgets to take the tray back half the time. He barely even noticed that one went missing."

The redhead chuckled. “Which one?”

“The toothpick. With the moustache.” Coda laughed back, grinning more. “And he’s already terrified of me, so I sorta have free reign over ‘em.”

Grey sighed and shook his head back and forth. “You really won’t ever change, will you kid?”

The creeper rolled her eyes at her mentor, but still had a smile on her lips. “Would you ever want me to?”

The older man chuckled. “I don’t think it’s even possible at this point.”

Several chuckles sounded out throughout the room, and more conversations arose among most of the soldiers. Even Sakura herself was starting to talk, after hiding the metal tray beneath her blanket. She could honestly get used to the chatter. Even though she barely knew those people, she was growing somewhat fond of them- Three loud raps suddenly sounded on the door, silencing everyone immediately. “Twenty minutes are up!” A man’s voice sounded out. She knew it belonged to the man that seemed to be made entirely out of slime (she didn't question it; she had seen enough weird people in the time of the byte arriving in that World), but what was his name again? Jevin?

“Aw, c’mon jelly bean!” Coda groaned in annoyance. Sakura couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the fitting nickname. “Can’t y’hear we’re having fun in here?”

“You’ve gotten used to the limit by now!” The man replied, ignoring the creeper’s remark. “Time to get out!”

Sakura sighed, holding her contraband close to her blanketed figure. “Alright…” She walked towards the door, but glanced back towards her teammates and gave them a smile. “See you all tomorrow.” She said, before walking out the door with her precious cargo.

She glanced around at the group of people outside the door. The usual escorts were there, one (or sometimes two) for each of her colleagues. Among them was the man assigned to her; Zedaph.

“You still cold?” He asked as the two started to walk off down the halls.

Sakura made a small pouty face. She had to keep up the act. “It’s chilly!”

The blonde laughed. “Okay, okay!” He replied.

The two didn’t exchange many more words before they finally arrived at Sakura’s cell. “I’ll be back in about an hour with your breakfast, alright?” He said, opening the door and letting the shorter woman inside.

Sakura gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright. See you then.”

As she turned around, she heard the door close behind her with a long creak and a click, signifying it had been locked. She continued to stand still for a moment and waited for Zedaph's footsteps to fade away. She knew she couldn't risk anything.

Soon, there was nothing but total silence. Silent enough for her ears to ring. She glanced over her shoulder one more time, before sitting down, taking off her blanket, and spreading out the supplies she was given.

And she immediately started to grow uneasy at the task before her.

Sakura gazed at all of the materials set out in front of her and bit her nails. What was she supposed to do with a flimsy metal tray, a bedsheet, and duct tape?

Knowing she had to start somewhere, she took the tray in her hands and attempted to bend it. To her pleasant surprise, it started to fold with relative ease. As easy as it could possibly be to fold a sheet of shaped metal. Maybe she could use those after all…

The woman looked back down at the cloth and tape next to her. Ideas started flowing into her head, one after the other, and a small smile crept up onto her lips. She knew exactly what she could do.

"Alright, Sakura…" She muttered to herself. "You have made it this far… time to make the final stretch." She rubbed her hands together and rolled up her torn and dirty sleeves.

Time to get to work.

~~~~~

Sakura rubbed her eyes and yawned. She had been up for (what she presumed to be) most of the day and the night, tinkering and experimenting with her mismatched supply of contraband in between the times that Zedaph had delivered her meals. Her natural hand was starting to form a couple blisters from all of the work she was doing. Not to mention all of the small scrapes and cuts she had along her palm that stung every time she flexed her fingers.

But her hard work was definitely paying off. Laid out on the tile in front of her were several makeshift knives. Seven, to be exact. Their jagged blades were fashioned out of the food tray (after she had finally managed to fold it enough so it would break), and their handles were made from torn scraps of the bedsheets and the tape.

She had a remaining scrap of the bedsheet left, so to keep all of the shivs in one place, she decided to wrap them all up into one small parcel. A tired sigh of relief escaped her lips, and she shuffled over to her bed and collapsed. Her eyelids drooped and got heavier and heavier, and she slipped closer and closer into dreamland-

“Bloom? You awake?”

Zedaph’s voice made her snap her eyes wide open in an instant. She almost jumped right out of her bed from the surprise, and nearly dropped her bundle of knives onto the floor. “Wh-what…?”

Zedaph spoke again. “It’s morning.”

“A...already?” Sakura asked, trying to sit up without revealing her contraband. She tried to yawn to make it seem like she had just woken up.

“Yup. Time for you to meet up with the others.”

“J...just one second…!” She stuttered out, trying her best to add in another fake yawn to her speech. She held the bundle close and wrapped her blanket around herself to conceal it. “Alright, ready.” She then stood up from her bed and shuffled out of her room, holding her parcel close as she tagged alongside the blonde.

To her relief, Zedaph didn't seem to suspect a thing as they walked. He appeared just as tired as she was, perhaps even more. But then again, Sakura could easily assume that just about every single W.E.S. operative in the World was, at that point. She didn’t know how much time had passed since the massive battle between them and the rest of her fellow soldiers, but it had been long enough to where everyone seemed to be losing sleep.

The blonde led Sakura to the ‘meeting’ room, and let her in without a hitch. “Twenty minutes as always,” He yawned. “Have fun.”

The brunette nodded and smiled at Zedaph, before he closed the door behind her and locked it. She turned back to her fellow soldiers, who had all, once again, arrived before she had. However, at that point, none of them (including herself) seemed to care at that point. They were all dirty, weakened, and determined to go home.

Coda was the first to speak, lowering her voice a bit and leaning closer to Sakura. “You got the goods?” She asked.

Synth let out a snort. “You make it sound like she’s dealing crack, geez.”

“Shut the fuck up, Synth,” The creeper rolled her eyes and playfully shoved her friend. "But really, you got somethin’ we can use?"

Sakura nodded, and pulled out the small bundle from inside her blanket. “I made seven. One for each of us.” She pinched a corner of the bedsheet and unraveled the parcel to reveal the hastily made knives.

Coda’s eyes locked on the blades with interest. “Holy shit…” She said. Her jet black gaze shifted upwards to Sakura. “You made these? In just a few hours?”

The brunette gave a sheepish smile back. “Well, it wasn’t just a few hours… I've been up since yesterday-”

“These are fuckin’ amazing!”

The creeper cut her off and snatched one of the knives in Sakura’s hands. “Sure, they would look shitty as fuck to anybody else, but they aren’t!” She grinned at the shorter woman. “A lot better than I could do.”

Synth raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you know how to make a shiv?”

Coda glanced over at her friend. “Does it surprise ya?”

The redhead let out a chuckle. “Point taken.”

“N..not to be mean, but…” Lucky’s quiet voice then sounded, drawing the group’s attention to him. He made a timid gesture to the blades. “H...how do you know that they’re good? They look like they would do more scratching than cutting…”

Coda’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Watch ‘n learn, techie.” Before anyone could object, she took her blade and pressed the tip against her scaled finger. Just as she did, a small, emerald green bubble formed. “See? It’s damn sharp! If it can get through my scaly ass skin that easily, then it can get through anybody else's like it’s fuckin’ butter.”

The shorter blonde was obviously taken aback by the creeper’s sudden action. “D...did you just stab your finger?”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ stabbed my finger. So what-”

“We’re getting off track.”

Nightingale’s cold voice pierced the air and filled it with silence. “We need to make the most of these twenty minutes. We cannot waste them.”

Lucky flinched back a bit. “Y-yes ma’am…!”

Coda was quiet, but soon spoke. “Yes, boss…”

“Good. Now, remember our plan,” Nightingale started, her dark gaze shifting from person to person. “We take out every threat we find, quickly and quietly. We cannot draw attention to ourselves. If you need to spill some blood, do what you must. Just make it discreet. And while at it, you make your way around to meet up with your partners at your discussed locations.”

“Once we have everyone incapacitated and have all found each other, we close in on Xisuma,” The ebony woman continued. “And we must be just as careful taking him down as with the others. You all have seen how powerful he is; one slip up and we’re all done for. Once he’s dead, we can get our equipment back and call for an extraction.”

Nightingale’s eye landed on Lucky, and Sakura could have sworn she saw that her gaze had softened for a moment. “And Lucky. We’ll get the extraction team to find Jazz and bring him home. Alright?”

The short blonde lifted his head from the floor, locking his bloodshot eyes on her. “Yes ma’am…”

A moment of somber silence passed. It was still hard for Sakura to believe that one of her teammates was dead. Sure, she had been sent out on missions before, and her other colleagues hadn't made it back to Fort Oblivion alive, but this was different. From what she gathered in the short time she knew him, Jazz was both strong and smart. A prime example of someone who could have been a skilled and admirable commander one day. Not someone who would have their life cut short by hacker powerful enough to leech.

At least he would be remembered as a hero. A strong, dedicated soldier who fought to the bitter end. She was happy that Lucky would have that to comfort him.

“And on a side note," Nightingale gently broke the silence after what seemed like ages. "There’s no need to call me ‘ma’am’ anymore.”

Sakura blinked, confused. What did she mean? She was technically the leader of the byte; she had to be respected as such.

“We’ve all been placed at the same level here,” Nightingale continued. “So Angel will do just fine.”

The brunette tilted her head slightly. Angel. If she had to be one hundred percent honest with herself, she was expecting something much less...dainty? Elegant? She didn't quite know how to describe it. Sure, her surperior's code name was Nightingale, but that was just it; a code name. An alias.

"And personally," The woman spoke again, further gaining Sakura's curiosity of the sudden request. A small smile then tugged at the corners of her dark lips. "You have all gained my respect." Her raven gaze landed on Coda for a moment, before returning to the others. "No matter how much you may get under my skin. You all have proven yourself to be fine soldiers. With what we've faced in the past several days, I would even say that Ecryptos himself would be impressed."

Sakura's eyes widened a bit. Was Nighten- er, Angel, being serious? She didn't know in the slightest. But then again, even in the time she had known her, Sakura had gotten a vibe from the infamous sniper that said she wasn't one for spreading lies.

“Now, are there any questions?” Angel asked out. Silence. “Good.” She glanced over towards the door. Their time was almost up. “Now… Good luck out there. All of you.”

Sakura gave the sniper a salute alongside everyone else. This was it. The escape was going to be set in motion in a matter of hours.

Now all she had to do was wait.

~~~~~

All was silent as Sakura crept through the hallways, careful not to make a sound. The faint echoes of water dripping and an animal or two scurrying across the dirty tile were all she could hear. It didn’t exactly provide a calm atmosphere, to say the least. Especially when she felt something dart across her boot and she had to suppress the urge to scream and jump where she stood.

But she wasn’t all that surprised that there was the occasional rodent down in that bunker; it was still quite new, and partially under construction from what she could tell. A number of the hallways led to dead ends with dirt piles, some of the walls were just plain gravel or earth, instead of the usual polished stone. And the amount of dust and grime always gathering in the place was a dead giveaway that the bunker was hard to keep clean in some places, primarily the ones that were used the least often.

She started to approach an intersection of hallway. All was still and silent. Too silent. Even if she knew it might have been a good sign, she couldn’t help but feel slightly on edge.

But she took a breath to reassure herself. Everything had gone alright so far. She had managed to knock Zedaph unconscious with a swift blow to the head when he came in to deliver her dinner; she had managed to build up his trust in her, enough so that she could get him to let his guard down around her. As an extra precaution, she had tied him up with bedsheets. And on top of that, nobody had managed to find her yet. She may have felt guilty, but it was what she had to do. All she needed to do now was meet up with Synth outside the infirmary, and everything would be-

Voices echoed from down the hallway. Sakura stopped dead in her tracks, and the hairs on the back of her neck raised. She knew she had to get out of sight, but she was right out in the open! Nothing to hide behind except the corner.

She had to make do with what she had. So she slammed herself against the wall, holding her knife close. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, feel the sweat dripping down her forehead. All she could do was listen and hope they wouldn’t come far enough down the hallway to spot her.

One voice she immediately recognized. The ultimate target of the whole escape plan; Xisumavoid. “Grian, I told you I’m alright.” He said in an assuring, almost annoyed tone. Like a parent worrying when their child has tripped and scraped their knee, and the child repeatedly telling them that they are okay.

The other voice, presumably belonging to someone named Grian, Sakura didn’t recognize. All she could tell was that it was definitely male. “But X, those bruises on your neck look really bad!” He replied. “Just drink part of a healing potion!”

“The others need them more than I do. I can manage.”

By the sound of his voice, Grian wasn’t having any of it. “You could have been killed by that woman, X! I don’t care if you have those fancy hacker powers; she nearly choked you to death with that wire!”

“But I’m alive,” Xisuma retorted. “And that’s all that matters. So what if I have some purple rings around my neck for a few days?”

Grian huffed. “Okay, fine,” He finally gave in, and a short moment of silence followed. “And X?”

“Yeah?”

Grian was quiet for another second, and a pair of footsteps ceased, presumably his. “...why didn’t you tell any of us that you were a hacker?”

The other set of footfalls stopped, followed by a moment of tense silence. But even if she was scared, Sakura was growing curious of the situation. Xisuma’s colleagues didn’t know he was a hacker? It somewhat made sense; hacking was something that was a very controversial subject to many people in countless Worlds, and as far as Sakura knew, it had been for a long time. Some people were accepting of it, but with how dangerous altering code could be, hackers were often viewed as a danger to both themselves and society.

But Grian didn’t sound mad or disgusted in the slightest. He almost sounded sad, disappointed. As if he thought Xisuma could trust him with any secret, no matter how dark or shameful it could be.

She had to know what Xisuma’s answer was going to be. Her curiosity was too great, too tempting. Staying as still and as quiet as she could, she continued to listen.

There was still a tense silence, but soon a sigh from the hacker broke it. “I…” He started, his words trailing off. “I guess because I never thought I would have to tell anyone in the first place.”

Sakura’s curiosity only grew at the response. She had to resist the urge to pop around the corner and ask Xisuma himself.

“Oh…” That was the only word Grian said for a long moment. “...you know you can tell any of us anything, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Grian let out a sigh. “Good.” He said. “Well… I better get back to Cub. He’s still a bit short handed.”

Xisuma chuckled. “See you, Grian.”

A small burst of static sounded followed Xisuma finishing his sentence. He must have teleported somewhere, and hopefully, far enough away for Sakura to continue navigating around the bunker and finding Synth.

Instead of taking her time, like before, she broke out into a swift walk. Still quiet enough to not be detected, but much faster than her former pace.

And yet she continued to weave through the expanse of hallways and corridors for what felt like hours. Part of her mind was wondering if she was actually headed the right way. Everything looked almost exactly the same; the walls, the tile, the flickering lights. She felt like she was in a cheesy horror movie.

But then she saw something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Or rather, someone. She had nearly passed him as she was walking past a corridor she thought she had already gone through. The redhead was leaning up against a wall, next to a window peering into another room.

Sakura’s eyes widened, and she smiled. “Synth!” She whispered, and dashed over to him as quick as she could. “Sorry, I got lost…” She let out a sigh and wiped some sweat off her forehead. “This place is like a maze!”

The redhead glanced down at her and shook his head. “You’re fine, trust me,” He assured, a charming grin on his face. “But we need to move, and sooner rather than later. Come on.”

Synth then started walking down the hallway, and Sakura followed. But she couldn’t help but glance into the windowed room as she passed by it. She presumed it was the infirmary; there were several people asleep in beds, with various injuries. There were several she recognized right off the bat; Doc, with his broken arm in a sling, and False, who apparently didn’t have any injuries at all, apart from a bruise on the side of her head. But there was one other in a cot, who was almost completely covered in gauze. And he had both an arm and a leg missing. All she could tell was that he was a red creeper-

Wait. The creeper. She recognized him. It was PythonGB, fierce warrior and former soldier that Lucky identified while everyone was still back at Fort Oblivion. He was also one of the people who tried to get away from her R.O.S.A. before it could detonate.

And now he appeared to be on the verge of death.

Her eyes widened as she gazed at the creeper through the glass. “Did...d-did I do that to him…?” She whispered to Synth.

Synth stopped walking. He must have heard her. "Pardon?" He glanced over his shoulder at Sakura. “What was that?”

Sakura lifted up her cybernetic arm and gestured to Python’s severely injured figure in his bed. “D-did I… did I injure him that badly? W-when my R.O.S.A. exploded?”

The taller redhead lifted his grey eyes to where the woman was pointing. “Oh wow…” He replied, sounding genuinely surprised. “He looks worse than the last time I saw him. Last time he had both arms.”

Sakura’s heart stopped for a moment, her eyes widening. He didn’t lose his arm and leg at the same time? Maybe gangrene had set in to his arm, too much infection to risk keeping the limb. Or it could have been the fact that whoever was doing the amputations couldn’t stomach doing both the leg and the arm at once. The thought of having to cut off a colleague’s dying limbs was one that made Sakura sick.

Synth was silent for a second, as if thinking of a response. “Well, your mech did explode. Quite violently, as far as I’ve heard. I wouldn’t say that you necessarily made him lose a limb or two, but I will say this.” A small smile spread across his face. “Either way, you helped put him in that bed. And now you’ve made our job much easier.”

The man’s last words turned the brunette’s heart into lead. The feeling of being weighed down with guilt and shame almost made her feel like she needed to sit down. She did that to Python… She was the one that accidently activated the self destruct sequence on her R.O.S.A. when its engines went offline. If she hadn’t done that, so many people would have been okay…

Including Jazz.

She saw him retreating with Nightingale before the explosion knocked her unconscious. He should have been safe, given he was outside the immediate blast zone, but it was the resulting shrapnel that killed him. She saw a massive metal plate hit him and practically rip him right open-

"Sakura!"

Synth's harsh whisper made her train of thought come to a screeching halt. “What, what is it?” She whispered back.

The taller man pressed a finger against his lips and signalled her to be quiet. As the air was consumed by the silence, at first she didn’t hear anything. But after a moment, she could just about make out almost inaudible footsteps, the soles of shoes barely squeaking against the tile.

Someone was there.

And Sakura felt like a deer in the headlights as they rounded the corner and stopped where they stood once they saw the two escapees. Standing less than a couple of meters away was a short man in a red shirt, his dirty blonde hair disheveled and messy, and his dark brown eyes wide in shock.

“...uhhhhhh.” Once he let out his surprised reaction, the brunette felt taken aback herself; she recognized his voice from before. The one talking to Xisuma. It was Grian.

Synth was quick to act, and he pointed his knife him. “I would advise against trying to scream and run,” He stated calmly. “Now, just come over here, and you might live to see another day.”

The blonde was still in a silent shock for one more moment, but soon shook his head and cleared his throat. “Look, we don’t need to fight,” He said, holding his palms out. “Just slide the knives over and-”

A soft click sounded through the air, and Grian froze where he stood. A new voice sounded from behind him, one that Sakura could recognize immediately. A woman, harsh and confident in her words.

“You move, I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out. Gottit?”

Coda!

A feeling of relief washed over the brunette. Thank goodness! A smile spread across her face as she saw the creeper step slightly out from behind Grian, her gun still trained on his head.

“On your knees,” The creeper growled. “And hands over your head. Now.”

“Okay, okay, alright!” The shorter man stated, before slowly beginning to lift his hands upwards.

“Good choice, blondie.” Coda grinned, and she reached her hand forward, presumably to grab the man.

But just before she could do anything, Grian suddenly spun around to throw a punch at Coda. His fist planted right on her jaw with a loud crack, causing her to stumble back.

“GAH!” Coda rubbed the side of her face, dark green blood now dribbling out of her mouth and down her chin. She looked back over at Grian and spat in his direction. “You lil’ son of a…!”

She nearly fell as the blonde charged at her, trying to snatch the gun out of her hand. But to Sakura’s surprise, Coda roughly grabbed his arm and, like he weighed absolutely nothing, flung him against the wall, before pinning him there by both shoving her forearm onto his throat and jabbing the barrel of her pistol on his side.

Coda grinned at her success, and jammed the gun further against her opponent’s stomach. "Y'know… it's a good thing you're wearin' red," She said, gesturing to his red sweater. She leaned closer to his face and smiled wider, not afraid to show off her now blood coated teeth. "It'll hide the stains~"

Grian gasped in pain as the creeper pressed her pistol harder against him, but he kept his dark brown gaze locked on her. “I’m not afraid of you,” He stated.

Sakura could have sworn that she saw Coda’s grin falter for a split second. "Uh huh. Sure." The soldier said, sarcasm dripping from her words. She kept her gun trained on him. “Y’wanna make a bet on it, blondie?”

The blonde’s expression remained the same; unafraid. “Then go ahead. Shoot me.” He stated, leaning his face closer to hers. “I already told you that I’m not scared. Of any of you, for that matter.”

A sinking feeling began to form in Sakura’s stomach. What was Grian doing? Sure, he was an enemy, but she knew antagonizing Coda wasn’t good at all. She had seen it happen back at the Hive, but Synth had managed to drag her away before she could do anything to Jazz. Now Coda had a gun… and that combined with a short temper was a recipe for disaster.

And to her horror, her prediction was correct. Just as Grian opened his mouth to say something, the creeper suddenly yanked him by the shirt collar and threw him onto the floor before he could finish. She then sent her foot towards him, kicking him in the stomach. A loud crack could be heard along with Grian's cry of pain.

"Coda!" Sakura cried out, and rushed over to her to try and pull her away. "Just calm down!" She grasped her arm and tried to tug her away, but the creeper didn't budge, and continued to repeatedly pummel Grian with a series of hard kicks.

Synth apparently had the same goal in mind. "Coda, calm down!" Synth demanded, dashing over to his friend and wrapping his arms around her. "We cannot reveal where we are!" He hissed, pulling her away from the beaten man on the floor.

Coda continued to glare daggers at the blonde as she spoke. “If this prick would shut the fuck up, then maybe I’d stop!”

Sakura nervously glanced down at Grian on the floor. He was glaring up at the three soldiers, his breathing labored. “Xisuma… is gonna find you…” He said, his eyes filled with anger. “All of you… every one of you in your little Shadowbyte Army-”

Sakura reeled back and shrieked as Coda’s gun suddenly went off with an ear shattering BANG. She heard Grian scream out in pain just as dozens of crimson flecks sprayed over her face and the cracked lenses of her glasses. Blood.

"Coda, what the hell?!" Synth demanded, grabbing her shoulder and roughly turning her to face him. "You just blew our position!"

"They know who we are, dude!" Coda exclaimed, sounding like she barely cared about the fact that she just shot someone. After a split second, her coal black eyes then shined with a red hot fury. As if she realized something in her head. "Of course… that fuckin' techie! He's a fuckin' snitch!!" She growled and stomped once on the tile. "I swear, I'm gonna beat the shit outta that kid once I get a hold of 'em!"

Sakura immediately knew who she was talking about. Lucky. Did he reveal anything during the interrogation besides everyone's code names? Somebody from the byte must have; Grian (or anybody else, for that matter) wouldn’t have known otherwise.

But she didn’t have time to stand and question. Before she could say anything, Synth had grabbed her hand and forced her to break out into a run. “Come on!” He ordered. “We need to get out of here, NOW!”

“O-okay, okay!” She managed to spit out a couple of words as she started to move alongside him and Coda. However, she couldn’t help but glance back at Grian as she was running. He was sprawled out on the floor and clutching his side, blood pouring out of his gunshot wound and steadily pooling beneath him.

But it was his screaming that made her almost stop.

Almost.

She knew she couldn’t stop running. As much as she wanted to, Grian was the enemy. And there was no way she could help him, even if it weighed her down with more guilt.

Sakura turned her eyes away from the man on the floor as she rounded a corner. She nearly slipped in a puddle of water and had to stumble while she ran to regain her balance. Voices bounced and echoed off the walls and the tile. The voices of the HermitCraft members. Yelling. Screaming. Crying.

But the woman kept running. She kept her eyes wide open. She didn't care how tired she was. She wanted, no, needed to escape-

And then she saw someone. Somebody that wasn't Coda or Synth. But it wasn't an enemy; it was a friend. As she and her two colleagues went around another corner, she saw a grey-haired man, also running. His tattered white jumpsuit stood out against the darkness of the hallway.

Grey.

"Old man!" Coda called and dashed over to run alongside him, Sakura and Synth following behind. “Wait, where’s the boss lady and your side kick?"

“Coda! You made it!” The man exclaimed as the group of four continued to dash through the halls. “I thought I was the only one! I got separated from Nix and Angel a while back. I thought they’d meet me up here, but none of them showed.”

Sakura’s eyes widened a bit. There was one person not accounted for. “Where’s Lucky?” She huffed out. “You haven’t seen him?”

“What?” Grey asked. “No, I thought you guys would’ve!”

“No time for questions!” Synth interrupted the conversation. "Right now we have to run!"

Sakura could barely tell where she and her three colleagues were headed. Everything was flying by so fast, too quick to make out any landmarks. If that were even possible, in that labyrinth of a bunker. How did the members of HermitCraft even get around without getting lost?

The brunette was about to try and speak her mind when she finally recognized something; the grand set of stairs that led up to the surface. She could almost feel her heart explode with happiness as the group and her ran up the stairs and burst through the doors, into the compound.

She and the rest of her group ran past the many buildings, past the compound wall, and into the massive field. She could just about see a massive crater not too far away, the ground and grass charred black. Her stomach churned; she knew exactly what had happened in that place. But then she lifted her head to the sky…

And saw sunlight. Warm, beautiful sunlight from the rising sun on the horizon. Sakura had to resist the urge and want to stop running and lay down on the grass, cherish and embrace the moment.

But she couldn’t stop running. Not with everything that was on the line.

“There!” Coda stated out, and Sakura snapped her brown gaze towards the creeper. “Head towards the woods!” She had her hand pointing out, where a large line of trees could be seen, easily within running distance. As if they were all in sync, a single unit, everyone made the sharp turn and ran into the forest and among the trees and brush.

Now, Sakura wasn't afraid to admit that she was plump. She didn't care that much about her weight, in terms of looks; she just had always been this short and round person, no matter how much she exercised and trained. Plus, she had grown to think of herself as cute, weight regardless. But in terms of athletics, a thing she never really had to worry about once she gained her position in the Army's Engineering division, she definitely knew her weight and body type wasn't exactly ideal.

Especially when she tripped and tumbled over a large tree root. One that had easily been avoided by her three (and much more athletic) colleagues.

"Woah!" The brunette cried out in surprise as she fell and slammed into the ground. Immediately a sharp, stabbing pain shot through her ankle, and a loud crack sounded out. “Owowowowowowooowwww!”

Not a moment after her cry of pain, she heard footsteps rapidly approach her, twigs and sticks cracking and snapping. “Oh shit!” To her relief, it was Coda’s voice. “Hold on, I gotcha!”

Sakura lifted her head up, and sure enough, Coda was right at her side and kneeling down. "C'mon, gimme your arm," She said, before firmly grasping her mechanical hand and started helping her to her feet.

The brunette heard more footsteps as Coda wrapped her cybernetic arm over her shoulders. "Kid! You alright? Can you walk?" She heard Grey ask.

She looked up at the man and shook her head. "I-I don't know…" She said. "I can try- OW!" But as she tried to put weight on her injured ankle, another wave of pain washed over her.

"Yeah, you ain't walkin'," Coda stated, shaking her head.

"But-"

"Nope! C'mon, up y'go!"

Before Sakura could respond, Coda suddenly scooped her up off the ground and held the brunette in her arms. "H-hey! Put me down! I can-"

"Both of you, just stop!"

The two women were silenced by Synth raising his voice, so much so it almost sounded threatening. Sakura shifted her brown eyes to the man, who had a grim expression on his face.

"Coda," He started. "You're right. Sakura is in no position to be running. But you and Grey need to move further ahead. Sakura and I can meet up with you later."

Coda's pitch black eyes went wide. "What?! Dude, there's no fuckin' way I'm leavin' anybody here!" Coda stated. "Nobody’s gettin' left behind!"

Synth shook his head. "We have to split up, Coda!" He countered. "The W.E.S. members can only spread themselves out so far! This is our only shot for all of us getting out of here!" He then placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a nod and a smile. Not his signature sly, almost sinister grin. This one looked gentle, much more friendly. "And besides, we'll be right behind you."

Coda was silent, her lips pressed into a firm line. But after a moment, she lifted her eyes back up and spoke. "Y'better be." She stated, before gently setting Sakura back down on her feet. “If ya aren’t, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

The redhead laughed, removing his hand from her shoulder. “Good luck,” He glanced over at Grey and nodded. “Both of you.” “You too, kiddo,” Grey said, before he and Coda turned around and made their way further into the woods, and not a moment later, disappeared among the trees and foliage.

Sakura and Synth were completely on their own now.

“Here, come on,” Synth held his hand out to Sakura. They had to keep moving. “Let me help you.”

The brunette flinched in pain as she tried to move, but soon grasped Synth’s hand, and allowed him to hoist her mechanical arm over his shoulders, just like Coda had. It may have been a little awkward, given the major height difference between the two, but they still managed to make it work.

"Thank you, Synth…" Sakura said, whimpering a bit as they both began to walk.

Synth looked down at the woman and smiled. "No need to thank me," He replied. "We're in this together-"

A bright flash of pixels suddenly appeared before them, and Sakura squeezed her eyes shut as she shrieked. What was that? A glitch? The World was still quite young… it wouldn't be much of a stretch for that to happen.

But once she opened her eyes, her heart dropped. Standing in front of her and Synth was none other than the one they meant to take out in the first place, flanked by two people armed with guns that obviously belonged to the Shadowbyte soldiers; Jazz's shotgun and Synth's assault rifle. A gleaming sword was grasped in the armored man's hand, and his eyes were locked on the pair.

It was Xisumavoid. And he had found them.

“Bloom, Mimic,” Xisuma started. He took a small step forward towards the pair of escapees. “Just drop the knives, okay? Give me the knives.”

Sakura’s eyes darted around in a panic, and she clutched her shiv tighter. There had to be a way out of that situation. They could run away- no, Xisuma could teleport, and the two people next to him had guns. Maybe they could try and fight- no, that wouldn’t be smart either! She couldn’t even run! What could they do?!

Her mind continued to race, and every idea she came up with sounded more ludicrous than the last. She had to come up with something. Anything! But soon, a grim realization crept into her mind.

They failed. She failed. Failed. As a soldier, as a colleague…

A sad sigh escaped her mouth. She really did have no other choice, didn't she? So, full of regret and shame, she closed her eyes and tossed the makeshift blade onto the dirt at Xisuma's feet.

It was over.

~~~~~

There was a tense and awkward silence in the stuffy air. Xisuma had taken Sakura back down into the bunker, but to her surprise, he didn’t take her to her cell. Instead, he took her straight to the infirmary and let her sit down on an empty bed. At that moment, he was wrapping up her ankle in thick white gauze, which she found extremely odd.

It didn’t exactly help that half of the people in the room were throwing weird or dirty glances in her direction.

Not much had changed since the last time she had seen the infirmary. All she noticed was that Grian was there now, and thankfully alive. He appeared to be unconscious in one of the beds, his torso completely wrapped in bandages. A small crimson stain could be seen slowly blooming through the white gauze covering his side. Several empty glass bottles lay on the metal table next to his bed, filled with the faint residue of a glowing pinkish red liquid. Healing or regeneration potions, perhaps. And a lot of them.

A small question formed in her mind, and she became slightly confused. Xisuma was a hacker… and he had the ability to heal himself, as far as she knew. Coda shoved a sword right through his heart, and yet he survived. Why wasn’t he healing the others? He didn’t have to use potions and brews.

She thought that maybe he could only use invincibility hacks. But she soon realized an immediate contradiction with that. Invincibility hacks were based on healing hacks. A hack that branched off of another, in a sense. He had to have learned to heal before he could make himself temporarily immortal. It didn’t make sense.

But Sakura had to shake the question out of her mind. She had things right in front of her to focus on. Much more important things. Like the fact that the one who was supposedly her enemy was attempting to patch up her broken ankle.

Why would Xisuma do that? He may not have killed any of her teammates, but it was still odd. Maybe he just wanted them all alive in order to press charges once he was able to contact the authorities in outside Worlds. There were so many questions, and yet so few answers.

She needed answers. Answers made her feel more at ease. She wanted to try and ease the tension, as well. To her, conversation was the best form of therapy.

The brunette cleared her throat. "So… you know who we are, don't you?" She asked.

Xisuma remained silent, and his posture went rigid at the mere mention of the secretive army. His hands stopped working on Sakura's ankle. "...yes. We do." He eventually spoke, almost sounding like he was trying to hold back his anger, and he went back to dressing the woman's wound.

Sakura didn’t exactly blame him for being mad. She knew what her and the rest of the byte had done; injured many of his colleagues (including himself), put several lives on the line, caused countless amounts of damage. The list went on.

And she felt horrible for it.

She couldn’t help but feel guilty for her role in the chaos. She let her mech explode. She knew she already took one life; and with how Python was, there was the possibility of her taking another. There was no way he could survive without more people giving him medical assistance.

...and then an idea came to her mind. "C...can I ask you something?"

Xisuma didn't return his gaze. However, he still spoke. "Yes. You may." He said.

Sakura gulped and cleared her throat. “I-it’s… it’s about one of your colleagues… Python.” She started. “I… I think I can help him.”

This time, the hacker glanced over at her. His brows were furrowed, confused by her statement. “What do you mean?”

The brunette was silent for a moment. Should she really do this? Her doing what she was about to do could have dire consequences. Perhaps not with Xisuma and his colleagues, but with her own. Angel, Synth, Nix, Grey, everyone.

But even if Xisuma and the other W.E.S. operatives were technically considered the enemy, she didn’t mean for this to happen. She couldn’t stand idly by and watch someone die because of something she did. Especially when she knew she could help. Her heart couldn’t take the weight of that much guilt.

"Bloom?"

Xisuma’s slightly muffled voice drew her back into reality. She had to make her choice.

Sakura looked back up at the green-armored hacker, took a breath, and pointed to the cog patch on her dirty and torn up jumpsuit with a mechanical finger. "I work with cybernetics. A lot. I make them, design them, install them. And from what I saw, Python needs good ones, and quick."

Part of her mind was screaming at her, demanding what she was doing, demanding she stay with where her loyalties resided. She made an oath to the Shadowbyte Army, to Ecryptos, the day of her enlistment. She could remember every line, every word, every sentence she said like it only happened yesterday. After all, she stood face to face with the legendary general, like every other recruit would on their own day of enlistment. It helped make the words stick. Especially the most important part of the whole entire thing...

“I, SakuraDot, hereby pledge that under any circumstances, I will remain loyal to my fellow soldiers and General of the Shadowbyte Army, Ecryptos.”

Now she was on the verge of breaking that oath. But part of her was somewhat accepting of that fact. Since there was absolutely no chance of escaping now and her identity as a Shadowbyte soldier had been revealed, she figured she might as well try and do the right thing, according to her morals. To try and make up for the thing she regretted so deeply.

So she took a breath, opened her mouth, and took the plunge. “I want to help you save Python.”

The whole room went silent at her statement, and she saw several pairs of eyes lock onto her. Even Xisuma was staring in shock.

"...I'm sorry, what?" The hacker asked, obviously taken aback.

Sakura repeated herself. "I want to help you."

"But… why?" A new voice spoke up. It was Doc, all the way on the other side of the room. "Why the hell would you want to help us?! You and your buddies just tried to kill us a few days ago!"

"He's right!" Another person, False, spoke next. She had her blue eyes locked on Sakura. "Because of you, we're all stuck in this mess! And one of us is on the verge of dying!" She gestured to Python in his bed. "What makes you think we're going to trust-"

"Doc, False, please!"

Xisuma's voice pierced the air, and he flew his hands out. Static burst from his fingertips, and both Doc's and False's voices stopped, even though their lips kept moving. He muted them.

His two colleagues soon realized what had happened, and they stopped their silent ranting. They locked their eyes on him in shock, but he turned his gaze away and returned it to Sakura. "They have a point, Bloom," He said, sighing a bit. "Why would you suddenly want to help us? After what you and the others did?"

The brunette fell silent. She almost didn't want to admit why she wanted to help. What was she supposed to say? That she suddenly had a change of heart and wanted to go to their side? Sure, she felt terrible and caved from the guilt, but deep down, she knew her loyalty to the Army remained intact. Once a Shadowbyte soldier, always a Shadowbyte soldier.

"...do you really think I have anything else to lose?" She mumbled, just loud enough to be heard. It was the best answer she could come up with.

Xisuma was silent for what felt like minutes. She could feel her heart start to sink. Was he going to reject her offer?

He then let out a long sigh, making her even more anxious of what he was going to say. "...alright. I believe you. But you're going to be under constant supervision, got it?"

Sakura nodded eagerly. He had agreed! "Yes."

"Good." Xisuma then stood up from the end of the bed and held out a hand for the woman to take. She hesitated for a brief moment at the gesture. But she soon shook off her fear and grasped his hand, and let him help her off the bed and start to hobble over to Python's bed, despite the pain in her ankle.

"He should be waking up soon," The hacker said as they got to Python's bedside. "So you won't have to wait too long." He was silent for a moment, and Sakura realized he was looking down at her injured foot. "I… should probably get you a pair of crutches. I think there's a pair somewhere around here..."

Before she could say anything, the man in green armor suddenly disappeared in a burst of greenish blue pixels, making Sakura jump and let out a shriek. She could feel everyone's disapproving eyes on her, and she hated it.

Thankfully, not a moment later, Xisuma reappeared, now holding a pair of dusty grey and white crutches. "These should work. They're a bit old, but shouldn't break." He held them out to her, and, wanting relief, Sakura immediately took them into her hands and stood up. They were slightly taller than she would have liked, but they were better than nothing at all.

And it wasn't a moment too soon. Because Sakura heard a brand new voice, and once she turned her head, she saw that Python was beginning to wake up.

The creeper had stirred a bit, and shifted his head to the side. His brows furrowed as he let out a small wince, before his one eye cracked open and landed on Xisuma. "X…?" He asked, his words slurred. "Is that you…?"

Although Sakura couldn’t see most of his face, she saw the corners of Xisuma’s eyes wrinkle a bit, as if he were attempting to smile. “Yeah. How are you feeling, man?” He asked, slowly sitting down next to Python on the bed.

The creeper blinked his remaining eye, and shifted his focus further onto the hacker. “Confused… stupid...” He croaked, before letting out a harsh wince and tensing up. “And in pain… a lot more pain…”

The wrinkles around Xisuma's eyes smoothed out. His smile had disappeared. "Yeah… the pain killer's probably wearing off by now…" He glanced over to the other side of the room for a moment, at a man with grey hair in a white lab coat. "Cub? You mind giving Python more morphine? If we have any left in the crate over there?"

"No problem, man."

Python glanced at the stump where his missing right arm was as the man named Cub walked over, a large needle filled with a clear liquid in his hand. "...I guess I'm gonna have to also be a leftie now, huh? Not just a crippled?" He gestured to the spot where one of his legs used to be. "Didn't imagine I'd be like this at twenty five…"

The hacker was quiet, but he then cleared his throat. "Not if we can help it," He assured as Cub grasped Python's remaining arm and began feeling for a vein.

Python cringed as the man in the lab coat stuck the needle in his arm and injected some of the colorless substance. "What do you mean…?" He asked.

Xisuma gestured to Sakura beside him. "This is Bloom. She's going to be helping us make you some cybernetics."

Sakura gave an awkward smile and waved. "Hello."

The red creeper gazed at the brunette for a moment, ignoring Cub as he walked away, before his remaining eye widened a bit. "W-wait…" He started, and his brow furrowed. "She's one of those hackers, isn't she? The ones that came here?" He growled. It was obvious that even in his semi-groggy state, he still had some idea of what was going on around him.

The brunette was about to speak up, but Xisuma cut her off just as she opened her mouth. "Yes, she is," He stated. "But she isn't going to do anything to you. Not under my watch."

"Hmm…" Python lifted his tired eye up to Sakura. He was obviously still suspicious of her. “Well… if you do try to hurt me, X’ll probably split you in half…” He said, looking off to the side. The hairs on the back of Sakura's neck stood on end at the statement.

“And I don’t think you want to die… and neither do I, to be fair.” He continued and let out a small laugh, as if trying to lighten the tense mood. The new dose of drugs were starting to take effect. “So I think I can trust you. Whatever you need to do, go ahead.”

The brunette let out an internal sigh of relief. Thank goodness for the morphine; now she could actually help.

"Well… That settles that, then," Xisuma said, catching Sakura's attention. He cleared his throat. “You need anything to get started?”

“Umm… I just need a tape measure and a notepad right now.” She replied, still slightly on edge. “Oh, and a pen, too.”

The hacker nodded, and flicked a gloved hand upwards. Before the woman could even blink, several objects flew past and made her jump, every one ending up in Xisuma’s palm. A small notebook, a black pen, and a length of rolled up tape measure. “Here you are.” He said, holding them out to her. “If you need anything else, just ask me or Cub.” He gestured over to the grey-haired man in the lab coat, now busy tending to Grian.

Still surprised by the sudden display of just how skilled Xisuma was with hacking, she hesitantly took the trio of items into her own hands. “O-of course. Will do.”

As soon as Sakura ended her sentence, Xisuma gave her a nod, before disappearing in a flash of pixels and static. Leaving her all alone with the remaining W.E.S. members.

As nervous as she was, she had to get to work.

The brunette turned around and went back to Python's bedside, and unravelled the tape measure to measure Python's remaining leg. She needed as much information as possible to make cybernetic limbs and augments that were a perfect fit. Clicking her pen, she wrote the measurement down in her notepad.

"Hey."

Sakura glanced over her shoulder, and saw one of the injured glaring at her. False. "Hmm?"

"You hurt him, and I'll be the one snapping you in half," The blonde growled, making Sakura stiffen a bit.

"False," Cub spoke out to the woman. It was obvious how tired he was with how he let out a sigh afterwards. "Whether we like her or not, Bloom knows how cybernetics work. Just let her do whatever she has to do."

"What he said!" Python spoke up, his words becoming more slurred from the morphine injection. He then lazily poked Sakura's cybernetic arm. "Besides Falsie, she can just lend me a new hand now! She has one right here! And now I can be cool like Doc, too!"

Sakura let out an accidental chuckle at Python’s loopy behavior. “Just hold still.”

As she continued to take the measurements and notes she needed, her mind began to wander. First, it led her to thinking about Lucky. Why didn't anyone see him during the escape? Did he get caught before he could even attempt to meet up with the others? She could only wonder.

And then her mind travelled to two more people; Coda and Grey. She hadn't seen them since they had split up from her and Synth. She knew for certain that the two soldiers weren't back in the bunker; if they were, she would have heard Coda’s complaining and cursing by now.

As much as Sakura didn't want to admit it, she knew that even if the two soldiers had succeeded in shaking the W.E.S. employees off their tail, there was no chance of them actually escaping the World. Their hacks had been drained, just like everyone else's. And even if they weren't, and they somehow managed to get past the World border and the multiple firewalls beyond it, they had no equipment or weapons to defend themselves with. Given that the massive worm was likely still out there prowling in the Void, they would more than likely be torn to shreds if they came across it.

All she could do was silently hope they would both come back safely.

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solesurvivorkat · 4 years

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‘Six’ Sentence Sunday/Monday WIP meme

Tagged by @noonvvraith, ty hunny! :-D <3 (I’m sure you won’t mind that I combined both meme tags, hence the quotes around ‘Six’, lol)

...SO. As I told my Discord group, I must have lost my mind with this whole pandemic thing. I MUST have - why ELSE would I ever consider starting a THIRD fanfic, especially when I’m so far behind in updating my other two? (...Seriously - still haven’t given up on them yet, I swear.)

Welp, I have no idea why, but one of my favorite movies, ‘While You Were Sleeping’, has been in my head lately. Couldn’t shake it off. So... after much (sooooo much) debating, I figured any writing/inspiration was better than none - and I decided to start a ‘Far Cry 5′ no-cult AU fic based off of this fluffy little ‘90s romantic comedy.

...I don’t expect a ton of people to know this movie... and whether they do or not, I don’t expect a ton of people to read this fic. I’ll be a little disappointed if no one reads it, I won’t lie, but... this is something that I thought would be fun to work on, so at the end of the day I’m doing this more for me than for anyone else (...no offense meant, lol).

For those that do know the movie though, I’ll say this: while the main plot is going to mimic that of the movie, it’s not going to be exact. I plan on incorporating a ‘non-cult FC5 touch’ into the story. Some details will be changed (both from FC5 canon and the movie’s), there will be slight ‘fudging’ of details, and I just ask that if something seems ‘factually wrong’ or ‘out of place’, to please bear with me. I will do my best to entertain and not disappoint, I promise. The main pairing in this fic will be my FC5 OC Sarah Rook, and of course, my boy John.

Without further ado (and sorry for the long intro):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘I Need to Tell You’ (coming very soon to AO3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was growing up in Connecticut, my dad used to say, ‘Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.’ I used to think he was referring to him and my mom, who had died when I was only a little girl. It never occurred to me until I was much older that he was actually referring to MY life.

He tried to be brave, always look happy around me... but I could tell he really missed her. My own memories of her were a bit hazy, so I’d question him about her every so often. One time I asked my dad when he knew he was TRULY in love with my mom. He got this big smile on his face as he thought for a moment, then replied, ‘Sarah, your mother gave me a special gift. She gave me the world.’

...Actually, it was a globe with a light in it. But... for the romantic that he was, it might as WELL have been the world.

Well, the first time I saw HIM, he didn’t exactly give me the world - it was a train ticket stub (...here in remote Montana - where I live NOW - we don’t have those fancy automated ticket machines like more densely-populated areas). But... I looked forward to it at work, every single day. He started coming to my station counter between 8:01 and 8:15am every morning, Monday through Friday, and he was just... what was he? ...Mysterious, I think is the word I’d use to describe him. Mysterious, yet... alluring.

Tall, definitely at least six feet. In his late 30s, maybe early 40s based on the slight crinkles beginning to form on his face. Imposing but not over-the-top build. Always wore a green camouflage army jacket. I’d catch a glimpse of the name tape every so often - ‘SEED’, above his right upper pocket. Undercut hairstyle (buzzed short on the sides, longer on top), moustache, and beard the color of rust. Some small scars and rashes on his face... this man has definitely seen some battle.

He’d lumber over, combat boots thumping with every step, drop the ticket stub on my counter, and continue on to the train platform. We didn’t make eye contact often - and in the brief moments in which we DID... there was just something about those blue eyes of his. I felt like he had a lot of interesting stories to tell.

We’ve- well, we’ve never actually SPOKEN, but... I know someday we will. I just know it. And someday... I’ll find a way to introduce myself, and it’s gonna be great - just like my handsome, mysterious soldier.

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universitychallenged · 4 years

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University Challenge 2019/20, Episode 20

The moment has arrived! I watched Imperial in their last appearance and was a little overexcited by a certain badass New Yorker. University Challenge is nothing without the odd big personality to liven things up a bit. Make way for Brandon!

Tonight’s edition comes to you in the company of Mother.

Imperial: 255

St. John’s, Oxford: 105

Team Vibe: Imperial:

St John’s, Oxford:

Grandad Count: Imperial might have won by a country mile, but St John’s average age was only 11 3/4 so they did VERY WELL.

Gender Diversity Count: One. Girl.

Style News: Regular readers may think I have a grudge against plain jumpers, but mate! Plain jumpers can work just fine, especially when twinned with excellent specs. Please see Exhibit A (Imperial’s Brooks, with his lovely deep red chunky knit) and Exhibit B (St. John’s Soor, with his soft sage green number) for evidence.

Captain Rich also brought strong hipster glasses game; ‘everyone’s wearing the same glasses as me,’ Andy recently complained, so I'm glad he wasn't watching this episode.

But what was going on with Brandon’s cheeky jumper? He already had excellent form with a Pokemon jumper in his previous appearance. All is revealed by him on Twitter: it’s American quiz show Jeopardy's presenter Alex Trebek, who has, since the show was recorded, been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Brandon then requests donations to Pancreatic Cancer UK. What a peach.

Cult Hero Of The Episode: B.R.A.N.D.O.N.

Captain Leeks was the sharpest of his slightly meek St John’s side, and the charming Captain Rich of Imperial probably got more correct answers, but Brandon is just so cool and wonderful I can’t even. So much swagger and pizzazz! He is from Queens, NYC. He has a near-pencil moustache. As questions are asked, he sits with eyes closed and his fingers in front of his face, and answers with the angry, impatient air of someone who has world crises to solve. On the Pulitzer Prize bonus round, he looked to the ceiling and moved his tongue in his cheek as if swilling a particularly vintage Rioja. ‘Which is the only year in British history to have seen four different Prime Ministers hold office,' said Jez. 'The first of the four was Earl Grey –’ ‘1834,’ Brandon buzzed in, fuming, as if he’d just been asked what was heavier, an elephant or a mouse. I LOVE HIM.

‘Oh, he’s arrogant,’ said Mother, and 55% of Twitter. Nonsense! Yes, he draws the attention of his team in when conferring, and has confidence oozing out of every pore, but you only have to see the mask come off in his exchange with Jeremy Paxman (see Jezza Watch) to know he’s a little pudding-pops, really.

Handsome Person of the Episode: The lovely bookends, Brooks of Imperial and Soor of St John's! I would happily go Midcentury Modern furniture shopping with either – what the hell – BOTH of them.

Horror Bonus Question: ‘In physics, what two-word term is abbreviated as the letter μ, subscript capital B; it is a unit for measuring atomic magnetic moments and is named in part after a North American physicist who was a pioneer of quantum mechanics?’

Regular Classical Fail By Composition PhD-owning Composer, Kerry Andrew: Beethoven! Thankfully, I knew that he wrote the Appassionata sonata and others, and thus avoided being taken out and shot. Jazz round, whoop! Captain Rich got Miles Davis after 1.2567 seconds, because (I assume from his spectacles) he spends all day listening to crackly Horace Silver vinyl and all night listening to Awesome Tapes From Africa. Thankfully I got the Coltrane and Hancock before Imperial, PHEW. I once sang that flutey introduction to ‘Watermelon Man’ at a London College of Fashion Graduate Show while dressed in an outfit from the first collection, you know.

Dream Bonus Question Round: OK, so I had never heard of celebrated film editor Dee Dee Allen (kudos again to the UniChall producers for keeping up the notable female content), but I did know 3 out of 4 of her films, unlike the youngsters on both teams – guessing Bugsy Malone instead of Bonnie and Clyde is just delightful. Mum was all over the Yorkshire Dales bonuses like rain on a drystone wall.

Jezza-Watch: ‘Excluding earth, how many planets in our solar system were known by the year 1820?' asked Jezzo. ‘Six,’ buzzed in Brandon, leaning back in his seat and rolling his eyes. ‘You look as if you find the question insultingly easy,’ Jez tittered, and Brandon broke character, grinning and saying ‘no no, it’s not like that. Good question.’ He put his thumb up. ‘Do you want a more difficult one?’ said Jez. ‘No, please!’ said Brandon. ‘I can’t. My heart.’ ADORBS.

I also loved Jeremy’s soothing words to the losing team at the end: ‘I’m sorry, St. John’s,’ he said. ‘You were whipped.’ HA. Next time! Paxo starts telling teams they are slaying in their lane and ending each question with ‘lol.’

Kerry’s and Mother’s Score: 24 right! 16 from me and 8 from Mother; 135 points between us.

Brain Food: Mother’s chicken and roast squash risotto

*******Final shout-out for Brandon’s Pancreatic Cancer UK link!*********

Tweets of the Day:

Please feel free to share, retweet, shout about this blog. I’m mostly a musician but a writer now too, and every little helps. And here’s me on Instagram.

#university challenge #universitychallenge #British TV #british quiz shows #british tv quiz

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mezzomercury · 5 years

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Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue: Prologue

Heathrow Airport

May 2017

A tall, young woman arriving from New York was looking around the luggage claim in one of Heathrow’s many terminals, as if waiting for something or someone. She paced as much as she could, given she had large suitcase, a carry-on bag and a pet carrier than contained not one, but two cats inside, all on a trolley that she wheeled around. She scanned her eyes around the room, watching suitcases arrive from different parts of the world on the endless line of conveyor belts, watching their owners scramble to pick them up upon seeing them. She paused in her tracks, suddenly thinking about how her late father worked at this very same place, doing the same job as the luggage handlers that were seen all around the terminal. The young woman smiled to herself, trying to imagine her father as a youngster, with the long hair he had back then juxtaposed with the eyesore of a yellow vest that would have been part of his uniform. No matter how many times she was told about this throughout her life, she still couldn’t comprehend it. The idea of her father, who secured his place in history as a musical legend, starting off from humble beginnings at this very same airport with a blue-collar job seemed so impossible to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a familiar whistle across the spacious corridor, causing her to perk up and look for who the sound belonged to. Scanning the room again, she found the person she was looking for: An elderly man, somewhere in his seventies, with silver hair, an almost cartoonish moustache, and his arms covered in tattoos, was waving in her direction with a big smile plastered on his face. She ran to him and put her trolley aside before giving him a great big hug.

“Uncle Rog!” she exclaimed, half expecting him to pick her up just as he did when she was a child, but she was now slightly taller than him and was strong enough to probably do the same with him if he permitted.

“There you are, Eliza dear!” he replied happily, offering to assist her with her luggage trolley once they broke their hug apart, “I swear, you get more beautiful everyday.” She smiled, blushing as he interrupted before she could respond,

“We gotta get going, I’m parked right out front, but it’s not the most legal place!”

She giggled and followed him out of the door towards his car. Some things will never change, she thought.

After both Roger and Eliza placed all of her belongings in the trunk of the car, Eliza got in the front seat, keeping her cat carrier with her on her lap as she sat down. Once Roger sat down in the driver’s seat he hastily turned on the ignition and pulled out of his parking spot, making his way towards the city.

“Everything went well? Flight was smooth and all?” he asked, trying to make small talk as he noticed the woman beside him fumbling with her cat carrier.

“Yeah, well, as well as it can be coming from JFK.” she joked while checking on her two cats.

Both of her cats were hairless, with giant marble-like eyes, leading her to name them both Gollum and Smeagol upon adopting them. Roger chuckled and followed-up,

“Your mum will be so happy to see you. She wanted to come with me, but she’s stuck in yet another rehearsal. You know how it is.”

She nodded in response while looking out the window, contemplating the ultimate reason for her visit.

There was a brief moment of silence before Eliza quietly asked, “So, how’s the film going?”

She was a bit reluctant to ask this, since she was still unsure about the idea of a movie being made about her father, but she knew it would happen eventually. Her question caused Roger to grin in excitement, as he felt like he was about to start rambling,

“It’s going splendidly, dear. They haven’t started filming yet, but we already met the cast and crew, and everything is coming together quite nicely.”

She listened intently as he added,

“You should meet the guy who plays Fre--I mean, your dad. He’s absolutely perfect. I could have sworn it was your old man when I saw his audition tape.”

This caused Eliza to sigh softly and with a slight tinge of sadness behind it. Her father died when she was only five years old, but not a day went by that she didn’t miss him, or even think about him. He was her first hero, he was the reason she got into music in the first place. All the songs she wrote, all the albums she released, all the awards she won; they were all for him. Frankly, she was disturbed by the notion that someone could try to portray her father, as if they were trying to replace him and take credit for his influence. Of course, she knew whoever this guy was, he probably wasn’t intending to do any of that, but it was still very off-putting that someone could apparently be “just like Freddie Mercury,” so to speak.

As these thoughts were racing through her mind, one of Eliza’s hands found itself fiddling with the locket around her neck, a gentle reminder that her father will always be with her, both literally and figuratively, as some of his ashes were safely kept inside it. It was a secret that she kept from the world, save for her other late father Jim, who gifted it to her. Now that he was also gone, she was the sole possessor of this knowledge of where Freddie’s remains were kept, and she preferred to keep it that way. Suddenly, she was startled as Roger noticed her spacing out, and was brought back to reality with him trying to speak to her again,

“You can come down to the film studio sometime if you’d like. I’m sure everyone would love to meet you.”

Her stomach dropped at the idea, but she nodded and tried her best to respond.

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

She wasn’t sure if she would actually get the courage to do so, but the invitation was still there. While trying to change the subject, she then told her pseudo-uncle,

“I gotta get together with Rory first. I’ve just been dying to see her.”

Roger smiled as she mentioned his daughter. Rory and Eliza were as best of friends that anyone could get, even though they were across the pond now. They were inseparable as children, being that they were the same age, and both grew up into bright and vivacious women. Eliza even served as the maid of honor at Rory’s wedding a couple years ago, as Rory swore to do when the time came for her, if it ever happened.

“Of course, dear. She’s been talking about this all week. Won’t shut up about it, if I’m being quite honest.” Roger joked, making Eliza giggle.

As the car hit a major traffic jam before entering Central London, Eliza found herself looking out the window again. What if I made a big mistake coming here? She thought to herself. Sure, she would get to see her mother, her family, and her friends, but with that also came the pain of losing both of her fathers resurfacing as it would. London would always be her home, but that home came with just as many bad memories as there were good ones. It was the biggest reason why she left to go to school in New York, and why she had no urge to return there once she graduated. She had a comfortable and relatively quiet life, with her brownstone townhouse in Brooklyn, her two cats whom she treated like her children, and her music career that she fully immersed herself into. Of course, she would have to occasionally step into the spotlight every time she released a new album or song, but at the end of the day, she had the choice to be very private with her personal life, coming and going into the media-driven limelight whenever she chose. Would this film alone destroy all of that? I was doing so well before all of this.

Eliza thoughts back to what her father Jim, “Papa” as she called him, would say to her throughout her formative years, “Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.”

Oddly enough, he first coined this expression when he was trying to get her to eat brussels sprouts when she was seven, but over time it struck a chord with her in a way she never imagined, as he began to use it for all sort of things she was hesitant to try. She eventually adopted it as sort of a mantra, turning it on in her mind like a record whenever she felt in need of it. It helped her get through a lot of the bumps in the road called life, and she said it to herself almost daily after Jim passed seven years ago. The memory of his endearing Irish brogue saying that phrase was something Eliza could hear exactly as he said it all those years ago. Now, in the context of going to a studio where they were making a movie about her other father’s life, risking opening old wounds that still felt so fresh, and the possibility of her reliving things that contributed to her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, she heard it again at this moment that she probably needed it the most. Just give it a try. You’ll never know if you like it or not until you do so.

She took a deep breath in as Roger pulled the car in front of her mother’s flat in the elegant neighborhood of Knightsbridge, mustering up the courage to face what would become a very interesting period of time head-on. Alright, I’ll give it a go. I’ll do this for you, Daddy and Papa. I love you now and always.

Permanent Tag List: @siriuslovesmarlene, @r-ahh-mi, @unknownauthor, @yousaycoke-isaycaine, @ramibaby, @rami-malek-trash, @eyeballchambersgirl, @onexlittlespark, @rami-hoe, @xtrashmammalstefx, @wanderlustnightwanderer

#bohemian rhapsody in blue #freddie mercury x jim hutton #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #freddie mercury imagine #queen band #queen imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #rami malek #micaela's fics #my stuff

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bossman-hazani · 4 years

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Gangstars episode 1

Hey so this is my first time using this website. I’m moderately new to it but I thought that this might be a good place to post the scripts for an animated comedy series I wish to one day start. I decided that since I have no idea on how and what the hell to do in order to get it noticed by a producer, I thought a good place to start was to post the scripts online and see if I could build a community on it and see what will come from it. I mean, worst case scenario is that literally nothing will happen and it’ll go completely unnoticed so here it is. Please feel free to give any feedback in whatever way is possible on this website lol. The first episode might be a little weak I’m not really sure what to expect from readers but please give it a chance to when I post the second episode before giving up on it. I guess the kind of humour it comes off from is more a Rick and Morty type of thing. And please can nobody be an ass with feedback? I’m still new to this and I don’t really appreciate it. This isn’t really a final product and I’ll probably change the script based on any feedback I get so please try to keep it constructive and helpful. Thanks and enjoy.

Gangstars Episode 1 script

(The camera shows a brick wall in an alleyway with a door. You can hear the muffled voices of the interviewer and his mother)

Interviewer: "!?"

(Door opens)

Mom: "DAMMIT BOY, IF MY SON'S GONNA SMOKE, HE'S GONNA DO IT IN HIS OWN DAMN HOUSE, NOT THE TRASHY APARTMENT HE BOUGHT HIS MOM CAUSE HE DOESN'T LOVE HER"

Interviewer: "alright, alright! I'm going!"

(Interviewer exits door, grabs a cigar, takes out his phone and starts talking to someone on the phone while leaning on a wall)

Interviewer: "Hey, Stu. Look, I need you to do me a favour. Dammit Stu are you drunk again!? Fine, whatever. Just go tell Cindy that I'm gonna be in the office to tomorrow morning - what do you mean what!? Why the fuck do I even pay you!? Dammit Stu! You'd better give results or you're fired! Oh so NOW you remember. Whatever. Now tell Cindy that I'm gonna be in my office in the morning and that she has to go get mike so I can meet him and promote his ass. Heh, yeah, he's gonna be making some big bucks now"

(Interviewer continues talking while smoking, and as this happens, a large arm (Fat Toni) with a burger starts creeping off side of screen and attempts to suffocate him.)

Interviewer: "WHA-!?"

(Interviewer punches Fat Toni in the stomach to which an immune sign appears, slowly rising. As time is running out, Interviewer grabs glass bottle and hits Fat Toni over the head with it.)

Fat Toni: "ah SHIT!"

(FT drops to floor directly onto interviewer's leg and a crack is audible)

Interviewer: "Fuuuck!!"

Fat Toni: "Help me up, guys!"

(Two more figures, Teef and Giuseppe run in to help FT up there is clear strain in doing the process.)

Teef: "Holy shit, Toni you’re so fucking heavy!!"

Giuseppe: (Makes strained sounds)

(Interviewer politely waits through this event)

(When Fat Toni is finally up, he takes a moment to catch his breath)

Fat Toni: "Ok, where were we??"

Interviewer: "Uhhhh I think you were about to proceed with kidnapping me?"

Fat Toni: Ooohhh yeeah... Well... Do you wanna go through with it or has the moment kinda passed?"

Interviewer: "Nah I think I can bring it back."

(Interviewer backs away, into a wall, unable to stand. The shadow of a LARGE man slowly, with help, makes their way up and looms over interviewer)

Interviewer: (In fear) "What are you?"

(Bag goes over interviewer's face and screen goes black)

Fat Toni: (As if talking to a sick child) "Wake up, this is a temporary kidnapping."

(From the perspective of the interviewer, you can see his eyes opening and closing slowly)

Fat Toni: "Wake uuuuppp"

(Interviewer still doesn't wake up)

Fat Toni: (Irritated) "Hey, cmon, wake up already."

Fat Toni: (yelling and at the same time slapping the interviewer) "Wake up!!"

(Interviewer is awake now and looks all around him. He can see a messy room and at the end of it stands a dark figure who is not visible due to a light shining into the interviewer's face)

Fat Toni: "Alright now, talk!!"

(An irritated muffle comes from the interviewer as he makes it clear that he cannot)

Fat Toni: "Oh, right. Sorry about that."

(From the figure comes a hand that reaches to the face of the interviewer and removes some duct tape)

Fat Toni: "Ok NOW talk."

Interviewer: "Somebody help me!!"

Fat Toni: "Naah I was just messing with you, you never had to talk. But what we ARE gonna do is we're give you something to make sure that you can't go to that interview tomorrow."

Interviewer: "huh? But-"

(Toni's hand goes over interviewer's face and the screen goes black for a few seconds.)

(The camera then goes to Mike. He's walking in a suit with a briefcase (office work starter pack) through the Jimmyasssteak building and his fellow employees pass by, engaging in conversation. It's clear that Mike is familiar and comfortable in his status and that EVERYONE knows and loves Mike.)

Employee 1: "Hey, Mike!! Pretty sure your gonna be promoted to CEO!! AND your gonna meet the boss! Even I haven't seen him"

Mike: "Yeah ikr! But it still hasn't been confirmed... Fingers crossed though!!"

Employee 2: "EY, MIKE!! YOU FUCKED MY WIFE!"

Mike: "Yeah I did"

Employee 2: (High fives mike) "Holy shit! That's really an achievement! I still haven't fucked her after 5 years together!! Anyway, have a good one, Mike!"

Mike: "Yeah, you too, Gary."

(Mike goes into a reception and starts waiting. After a sew seconds, a secretary comes up to mike)

Secretary: "Oh, hey Mike, the boss will see you now."

Mike: "Alrighty then, let's go."

(Mike and secretary start walking together through a corridor)

Mike: "So uh you know what the big guy's like? What I should say to him? What he looks like?"

Secretary: "I have no idea. I've never seen or heard him in person. Every day at 11 I escort everyone out of the building and security is turned off so he can enter his office. I guess you could say he likes his privacy."

Mike: "But then how did he tell you he wanted to see me?"

Secretary: "We communicate through ASCII. (but pronounced as ASCI)"

Mike: "So... the Advertising standards council of india??"

Secretary: "No it's with TWO 'I's."

Mike: "Ohh..."

(Camera slowly blacks out then slowly back into colour to show Mike and the Secretary reaching the end of a corridor. The secretary is a blubbering mess while mark is just confused and shocked)

Secretary: "And then I said "what, you don't like me that way?" and then you'll never guess what he said. Go on guess."

Mike: (slowly and confused) "How? This wasn't even a long corridor. It was only 30 seconds ago that we were talking about the boss. How did- Just- how!?"

Secretary: "HE SAID YESSSS!"

Mike: "Well I hate to have to leave you at the peak of the... The conversation but- uhh- we're at the boss so I kinda have to do my interview and all..."

Secretary: (clearly fine now) "Oh, ok!"

(Secretary goes to a computer and types in a legitimate ASCII message. In response, a message that's clearly not ASCII pops up)

Secretary: "Alright, I'm going to have to go while the boss opens the door. It's standard procedure. So bye Mike!"

(Secretary starts walking away. A door slowly opens. Mike goes through the door, looks around and sees Fat Toni, who is drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa painting hung up on a wall)

Fat Toni: "OH, HEY! Mark, right? I- uh I wasn't expecting you!"

Mike: "But didn't you literally tell your secretary that you were ready for me through ASCII??"

Fat Toni: "Mike... How in the goatlord’s shitting anus am I supposed to contact my secretary through the advertising standards council of india!?"

Mike: "Oh no she says it's with two 'I's."

Fat Toni: "Aaaahh. Well that makes more sense. I thought she was playing a number game when she sent me all those ones and zeros

Fat Toni: "Mike... I don't like mike... Is it ok if I call you Donnie?"

Mike: "Please call me by my name, sir."

Fat Toni: "Then it's settled. Your now Donnie... Donnie Dwayne!"

Donnie: (small and powerless) "ok..."

Fat Toni: "So Donnie. I'm gonna ask you some questions and your gonna answer then a’ight?"

Donnie: "Sure, whatever."

Fat Toni: "What are your thoughts on crime??"

Donnie: "I've always hated crime. I don't want to establish myself in it in any way and it helps nobody in any way. Innocent people just get hurt."

(Fat Toni gives a disapproving 'hmm' and literally scribbles on his notepad)

Fat Toni: "Now for the second question; What's your weight and how much do you normally eat in a day?"

Donnie: "How does this have anything to do with my promotion?"

Fat Toni: "Trust me, it's very important."

Donnie: "Well I guess I'm more or less the average person for both of them."

Fat Toni: "So... 49,000 calories each day??"

Donnie: "what!? No! That's stupid!! It's like 2,000!"

Fat Toni: "TWO-THOUSAND!? WHAT KINDA SUPER FUCKIN DIET ARE YOU- *ahem* That's very, very low. I gotta say, Donnie, your not doing very well for yourself so far. But you can still make it back."

Donnie: "Ok, ok..."

Fat Toni: (Dark and slowly) "Now it's time for the third question..."

(features of Fat Toni's face are blackened and are very serious as he says this and Donnie is concerned)

Fat Toni: (All grim and dark features on Fat Toni's face quickly disappear as he says this) "Do you like burgers? I like burgers."

Donnie: "Oh- well I like a good burger. They're actually pretty good."

Fat Toni: "I should probably tell you the truth... You know the gangstars?"

Donnie: "Umm no..."

Fat Toni: "Oh c'mon you gadda know them... Ya know... Biggest gang in the worldiverse?? Startin' gang wars here and there? You've probably heard of the but don't remember"

Donnie: "Ohhhhh those guys are JOKES!"

Fat Toni: "Ah c’mon, they're not that bad..."

Donnie: "I mean, they were the first and only gang to ever have their heist thwarted by an old lady"

Fat Toni: "Well- uuhh- I'm pretty sure they felt bad for the grandma and they didn't wanna hurt her..."

Donnie: "Dude, she was 96 and they had guns. She was only armed with a walking stick."

Fat Toni: "Pretty sure she was a martial artist."

Donnie: "What kind of martial artist is called Masel?"

Fat Toni: "UM only the most powerful ones. You know how martial arts gotta be, you can’t have your enemy suspect it. Pfft what do you know. Listen. I'm not your boss. My name is Fat Toni. I'm here to recruit you on the behalf of the Gangstars."

Donnie: "No."

Fat Toni: "Look Donnie, The gangstars need you. We're at a very bad state and this is the final straw for us. We need you."

Donnie: "No."

Fat Toni: "In this job, you were about to be promoted to CEO of the company. Would you rather be a CEO of Jimmyasssteak and get about 15 million a year, as tempting as it is, I think our offer will still win you over. By joining the gangstars, you get to risk your life, for scraps from heists!" (shows a picture of two happy people) "See, in the picture, you can see two of our happy members, enjoying the rough territory of wars."

Donnie: "Who even ARE they??"

Fat Toni: (Looks at the picture) "Ah. That's Tim and John. They didn't make the old lady attack. Don't ask. And I haven't even gotten to the good part! If you choose to join the gangstars, you get a chicken! On the house! With deals like that, SOMEONE'S gonna be making it through the winter!"

Donnie: "Well, I was GONNA say "no.", but I think the chicken part really changed my mind to... No.

Fat Toni: (pulls out gun to Donnie's face) (Aggressively) "It sure is a good thing that you're so excited to join the gangstars. You start..." (Looks at watch) "now!"

Donnie: "Of course. This is just great."

Fat Toni: (Holds up handcuffs) "you're gonna need to wear these..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (Fat Toni and Donnie are walking on the pavement of a motorway. Occasionally, there's a car passing by. Most give an aggressive comment to them.)

Fat Toni: "Sorry we had to walk. We have a small unicycle back at the HQ... I totally forgot it though."

Donnie: "A unicycle? You can ride one?"

Fat Toni: "Yeah you should see us when we use it. We look like a fuckin' circus crew piled up on top of each other."

Donnie: "That's kinda st-"

(A car passes by, and says an aggressive comment."

Driver 1: "You fuckin' dumbass!!"

Fat Toni: "You too you piece a' shit!!"

Donnie: "What the fuck was that about?"

Fat Toni: "Well you're in the motorway. In these areas, it's home to some of the most aggressive drivers in the city. A word of advice, do NOT go through the motorway in a car. VERY few people ever see the end of the motorway. Don't worry about the comments though, asshole comments are like compliments here."

Donnie: "Oh. Well that's also stupid. What's the gangstars like??"

Fat Toni: "Oh they're great once you get to know them. But if you're gonna fit in, you're gonna wanna work on your gangstar voice. Try one now!!"

(Passing car)

Driver 2: "HEY!! I'm drivin' here!!"

Fat Toni: "yeah, I bet you are!!"

Donnie: "Well what do you want me to say??"

Fat Toni: "Ummm... say that the gangstars don't suck and that they're actually super cool."

Donnie: "Ok, that sounds like a fairly simple task." in gangstar voice) "The ganghhh-"

Fat Toni: "Go on, say it."

Donnie: (in gangstar voice) "The gagstars donn- donnut sss-" (out of gangstar voice) "nope. I can't do it. It's physically impossible They just suck that much."

Fat Toni: "Ok, imma let that pass, but don't say that any more. Look. We'll work on your gangstar voice later"

(Passing car)

Driver 3: "How's ur mom!?!?"

Donnie this time: "Much better than yours!!"

(Car stops in the distance for a moment and then starts reversing. Meanwhile, Fat Toni is in shock.)

Donnie: "Wait what's he doing?? Didn't I compliment him?"

Fat Toni: "Dammit Donnie!! YOU'RE OUTTA THE MOTORWAY ZONE!!"

(Camera shows the ground with half of donnie's front foot past a black and yellow tape on the ground)

Donnie: "Well how tf was I supposed to know that!?!?"

Fat Toni: "THERE'S A NEON ADHESIVE TAPE ON THE FLOOR AND ABOUT 50 SIGNS!! HOW COULD YA MISS IT!?"

Fat Toni: "Just let me handle this!"

(Fat Toni pulls out his gun and points it to the driver who is at this point already out of his car and is approaching them. Meanwhile, Donnie starts slowly making a getaway.)

Fat Toni: "Look sir, I'm sorry about this misunderstanding. My grandson over here."

Driver 3: "Idiot. You don't look anything like him. And the age gap is WAY too small for him to be your grandson."

Fat Toni: "Oh but he is my grandson. Tell 'I’m Donnie."

Donnie: "Huh? Oh- yeah, sure am."

Driver 3: "Well tell me something, then. Why is your grandson trying to run away?"

Fat Toni: "Are you serious?? That's like the oldest trick in the fuckin' book. Did you really think that was gonna work? Go on, Donnie, tell him how you're still here!"

Donnie: (slightly distant) "YEAH!! He's right!"

Fat Toni: "See what did I tell ya!?"

(Fat Toni looks back and sees Donnie running away)

Fat Toni: "SON OF A BITCH!! Uh... is that someone calling you a fucking dumb ass??"

Driver 3: "You're the fucking dumbass if you think I'm falling for that bu-"

(Fat Toni throws the gun in driver 3's face and starts running for donnie.)

Fat Toni: "Donnie? Donnie!! Don't worry. I think the guy's knocked out!! You can stop running now!"

Donnie: "You idiot! That's not why I'm running away! I need to go back to my LIFE! I can still get my promotion and forget all this EVER happened!!

Fat Toni: "But Donnie!! The chicken! It's still up for grabs!!"

Donnie: "You're fucking crazy!! Just leave!"

Fat Toni: "Slow down, Donnie, I'm fat!!"

(Donnie continues running while looking back at Toni who's stopped to catch his breath.)

Donnie: "hah haha AAHAHAHAH IT'S OVER! I'M FREE! OOP!

(Donnie runs into a tree and falls back onto the ground and goes unconscious. The camera shows Toni picking up Donnie and holding him over his shoulder and carries him off. The screen slowly fades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Donnie wakes up in a small room on some hay, holding his head. The room looks old and floors and walls are made of wood. Donnie walks out of the room to another but this room looks normal and modern. Just regular but it's shit. In the room, Fat Toni stands alone in the room. He notices Donnie, starts walking towards him while talking.)

Fat Toni: "Hey Donnie, How did you enjoy our 17th century themed guest room?"

Donnie: "Well I feel like shit. I also smell like shit and I don't remember that before I hit my head."

Fat Toni: "Yeah... It's a pretty weird coincidence how the guest room does that to ya."

Fat Toni: "Listen Donnie, You're about to meet the other members of the gangstars. But, before you meet them and officially become a gangstar, you gadda sign this" (holds up a blank contract with only the signing area.) "so that if you bail, we can add shit in the blank and take you to court claiming shit you never agreed to! And if you don't officially join the gangstars, then we'll kill you. So... it's nothing important. You get it. Now sign it."

Donnie: "Welp. Doesn't look like I have that much choice... Uh... should i sign it as Donnie or should i use my actual name??"

Fat Toni: "Donnie will work just fine. I mean, I don't know how it not being your real name would affect how we can take you to court."

Donnie: "Oh I'm sure it doesn't. Real names are way overrated anyway"

(Donnie signs it as "Donnie")

Fat Toni: "Alright, this is the moment, as soon as you meet the rest of the gangstars, you'll officially be a gangstar. There's no going back from here."

Donnie: "Ummm I don't really need t-"

Fat Toni: (yelling upwards, cutting Donnie off) "GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE!!"

(Distant shuffling)

(the gangstars start walking in one by one)

Teef: (Talks in a shitty Italian accent) "What the fuck is it now?? If you've lost your cheeseburger again, we're NOT gonna help you this time"

Fat Toni: "Well actually I'll talk to you about that later buuut I called all your asses down here because I wanted to introduce the latest addition to the gangstars... Everyone meet Donnie!!"

Teef: "Oh, another one?? This is the fourth time this week. They keep dieing, dammit!"

Guiseppe: "Taglatelli!!"

Donnie: "Wait-- what's up with that guy, why did he just mention a delicious food that doesn't relate to context."

Fat Toni: "Ah, that, is guiseppe, he's got pure Italian blood, but we never really got to figuring out why exactly he doesn't talk proper Italian. His language is based mostly on Italian words that Americans know and love in their language likee... Ravioli, or pizza then there's also a sprinkle of random American words, but he CAN understand what you say. We came around to calling it retarded Italian. Oh yeah, he also makes a great ravioli."

Giuseppe: "Pizza ravioli Guiseppe (holds out hand) spaghetti"

Donnie: (shaking hand) "So is it like every word has a translation??"

Teef: "Nah it's really completely random. One ravioli could mean biscuits in one sentence but shit in another."

Fat Toni: "Yeah... Trust Teef's judgement when it comes to retarded Italian. He's the only one who understands retarded Italian."

Teef: "Welcome to the gangstars, if you need anything, just reach reach me, I probably got what you need."

Fat Toni: "Teef's our guy whenever we need something, if you need something done, just go to him!

Donnie: "yeah, sure, whatever, but why the fuck does he sound so weird??"

Fat Toni: "Well a couple years back his ass got into some deep shit and well... He knew some people who could fix it... let's just say long story short, according to the law he's related to guiseppe and is legally required to speak in a shitty Italian accent. It's a story for another time."

Guiseppe: "Spaghetti artichoke" (starts ruffling in pockets) "biscotti penne"

Teef: "Oh c'mon Guiseppe. You really gotta do that this time??"

Guiseppe: "broccoli."

Donnie: "Wait- What's happening?"

Teef: "He uh says you gotta do the ritual."

Donnie: "Oh for fucks sake what's it now?"

(Once guiseppe seems content with what he was searching for, he pulls out a live chicken and holds it in both hands and starts talking retarded Italian. What he's talking about isn't important.)

Guiseppe: "coffee ciabatta gelato..."

Donnie: "What the fuck!? Where the hell did he even fit that thing!?"

Fat Toni: "It doesn't matter, it's bad luck to question the ritual. It's a tradition that's been going through the gangstars for centuries now, your gonna have to accept the complimentary chicken."

Donnie: "What!? No! I'm not gonna accept this stupid chicken!"

(Guiseppe takes note of this and looks offended, but continues with the ritual.)

Teef: "You gotta take the complimentary chicken man. No excuses now, you're a gangstar."

Donnie: "What the hell even is this place!?"

(Guiseppe finishes speaking and goes down on one knee and holds the chicken above his head)

Donnie: "I'm not gonna take the chicken"

Teef: "You gotta take it man."

(Guiseppe starts to slowly push the chicken towards Donnie's face)

Fat Toni: "just take the damn chicken, just for a minute."

Donnie: "I can't, I'm allergic dammit!"

(Guiseppe slowly starts getting seriously pissed)

Teef: "Would you do it for a quarter?"

(Donnie shoots Teef an annoyed glance)

Teef: "He ain't buying, Toni."

Fat Toni: "Well raise!! We need him to take the chicken!"

Teef: "But I already offered a quarter!"

Fat Toni: "Whoa Teef, he's not worth our entire budget."

(Guiseppe slowly starts getting seriously pissed)

Fat Toni: "Donnie, I'm telling ya this as a warning, not advice; take the chicken."

Donnie: "Alright! I'll take the chicken!!"

(Donnie takes the chicken in a sudden movement, Guiseppe goes back to normal and walks out.)

Donnie: (throwing the chicken behind him followed by a squawk) "What a weird motherfucker..."

(Doogie walks through the door)

Teef: "Motherfucker..."

Doogie: "Reporting for business, boss!"

Fat Toni: "Ah come onn didn't I give you that calculus book!?"

Doogie: "That was a colouring book for kids."

Fat Toni: "And I did NOT think you'd finish it so damn fast"

Donnie: "Alright whose this dumbass?"

Doogie: "well my-"

Teef: "We'll do the talking, asshole."

Teef: "His name's Doogie; the smartass dumbass never really officially joined the gangstars, he just started coming here."

Fat Toni: "Physically, he's worse than useless, but he's a real smartass... Most of the time he's just annoying though. No matter what we do, we can't get rid of him.

Donnie: "Well why don't you just" (makes a slitting throat gesture)

Fat Toni: (excitedly) "Oh yeah, that reminds me, check this out"

(Fat Toni pulls a gun to Doogie's forehead between his glasses and shoots him without hesitation. When Doogie dies, he makes the most pathetic sound. Doogie's corpse slides a small distance so his head is under an object.)

Donnie: "What the hell did you just do!?You killed the weird kid!!"

Fat Toni: "What? you suggested that I kill him? Didn't he Teef?

Teef: "He did, and by laws of the gangstars, he'd be held responsible"

Donnie: "No! I was making a joke! I didn't want you to seriously kill him!!"

Doogie: (Weak and slowly) "Goooo..."

Donnie: "Wait- why did he just make a noise? What was that?"

Teef: "That. Is the reason why we could never get rid of him. I mean cmon did you really think we didn't try killing him? I mean just look at him."

(Doogie starts making a very slow rise)

Teef: "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have something to get"

(Doogie starts talking while rising)

Doogie: "How many times do I have to tell you to not to do that guys? I know it's funny but it's annoying. You ruined my good glasses too..." (continues )

(Teef walks next to Doogie with a shovel and smashes him by the back of the head towards a wall. Doogie makes another one of his pathetic noises as he dies. His corpse slides towards a wall and and some sort of stacked tall object falls just right to cover his body from the viewpoint and from all characters in the area.)

Teef: "Welp, I think I took care of that."

Donnie: "So.... What!?"

Fat Toni: "To put it simply, it was by some really shitty fortune that the one useless pain in the ass is basically impossible to get rid of. We've never seem what happens when he's being reborn. The surrounding will just comically rearrange themselves through extremely unlikely processes to cover his corpse."

Teef: "The more you try to force seeing the regeneration process, the more destructive the events get so they'll force YOU not to see it. So uh try not to do that."

(Two semi-large guys walk into view next to Toni)

One of them: "Hey Toni. A word please"

Toni: "Oh, hey Donnie, meet these guys." (points to one of them) "This guy is Tommy de mato" (points to the other one) "and he's Danny 'D' Ruff."

Donnie: "Damn, those are some pretty stupid yet kinda catchy names."

Teef: "Yeaah... That was back when we were using the catchy name generator."

Fat Toni: "Ahh that was a good one... Anyway, they're mostly undercover or doing background work so you won't be seeing much of them."

(Fat Toni turns to Tommy and Danny and then back to the others)

Fat Toni: "Alright. I'll be back in a minute"

(Fat Toni walks a small distance with Tommy and Danny to talk.)

Fat Toni: "Alright so what's up guys?"

Danny 'D' Ruff: "We found a bank. This one's too easy."

Fat Toni: "How much they are we gonna get outta this heist??"

Tommy De Mato: "Well they don't got much money or gold or much of anything because they literally just opened but they got cookies; lots and lotsa cookies."

Fat Toni: (Stroking chin in deep thought) "How many cookies are we talking about here?"

Danny 'D' Ruff: "Get this; whenever you deposit or withdraw money from an account, they'll give out free cookies."

Fat Toni: "Holy shit that's a lot of cookies..."

Tommy De Mato: "Think about it man, this time in a few days, we'll be rolling in cookies beyond our wildest dreams and a small portion of money."

Fat Toni: "Dammit, we're doing it!!"

(Fat Toni rejoins the rest and Danny and Tommy leave.)

Donnie: "No the fuck I won't do it!"

Teef: (Offering a bloody bat to Donnie) "C'mon it's not that hard to just give him a whack to the head."

Doogie: "No, please don't. It hurts"

Donnie: "No!! It's psychotic!"

Fat Toni: "Don't worry, Teef. He's only finding it so difficult because he doesn't know him well enough."

Teef: (with a hint of hostility) "Just give it time."

Fat Toni: "Alright guys. We're gonna rob a bank."

Teef: "Sweeet. It's been way too long." (yells upwards) "HEY, GUISEPPE!! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE. WE'RE PULLING A HEIST!!"

Guiseppe: (muffled) "Taglatelli pastrami!? Fusili?"

Teef: "uhhh... Brocoli lasagna pizza"

Guiseppe: "Fusili!"

Teef: "He's in."

Donnie: "Yeeaah I don't know... Now we're breaking the law? This felt more like some creepy fanclub thing. I never really thought of doing illegal shit..."

Fat Toni: "Yea but that's only cause you don't know the stash we're gonna pull from this heist."

Donnie: "Fine. What is it??"

Fat Toni: "Cookies; lots 'n' lotsa cookies."

Donnie: "Yup... Just as incredibly stupid as I figured."

(Guiseppe joins the group)

Guiseppe: "Concerto."

Teef: "He says he's ready."

Fat Toni: "How about everyone else?"

(Camera scrolls to the side as everyone gives their answer)

Teef: "Yeah!"

Guiseppe: "Libretto" (yes)

Doogie: (excitedly but cut off) "Ye-!"

Fat Toni: (Excitedly) "You aren't coming!"

Doogie: "Awww..."

(Camera goes on to Donnie who has an exaggeratedly and comically pissed off face and his arms crossed and is hunched)

Donnie: (with a childlike misery) "No."

Fat Toni: (excitedly) "Doesn't matter!!"

(View goes back to Fat Toni.)

Fat Toni: (In a cool voice) "Well. Now that everyone's ready..." (pauses while putting on some of the stupidest glasses on the end of his nose and pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose) "... Let's go rob a bank."

*** END OF EPISODE 1 ***

#gangstars #animation #script #screenplay #comedy #action #gang #gangs #funny #gangsters

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 6 years

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Ok girlie I see your tags on the prompts and I’m. Here. For. It. Please do i’m the only one who gets your costume and apparently that makes you wanna rip my clothes off with my baby Peter maximoff I’m so freaking thirsty for him

i’m the only one whogets your costume and apparently that makes you wanna rip my clothes off +we’re secret friends with benefits and you accidentally wore my shirt to theparty so you’re pretending you came as me and it turns out your impression ofme is on point and you know me better than I know myself are you sure you’renot in love with me??

Word count: 1, 845

A/N: GIRL I GOT YOU

“I thought you said you weren’t going to dress up forthis,” Peter appears before you with a gust of wind that blows your loosehair back.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you lift your arms up at theelbows and reply, “I’m not…?”

The corners of his mouth curl up in a smirk as he looks youup and down, and realizes you aren’t aware that you’re wearing his shirt. Thelook of utter confusion on your face changes slowly as you look down to see thefamiliar Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moonalbum cover print on the front of your— well, Peter’s t-shirt.

“Shit.”You curse under your breath, hoping no one else will notice that the shirt yourwearing isn’t yours.

“Hey, isn’t that Peter’s shirt?” Jubilee chirps,popping up out of nowhere with Kurt by her side and you start to panic becausethat really didn’t take long. Normally,you probably wouldn’t make a huge deal about wearing a friend’s shirt, butPeter isn’t like the rest of your friends, given the circumstances whichresulted in you wearing it. You had stayed in Peter’s bed while he was gettinghis costume ready after your, ehm, activitiesearlier. Long story short, you must have left too quickly and picked up thewrong shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor as you made your swift exit.

“Uh, y-yeah—” you stutter, completely caughtoff-guard, and as if on cue, the rest of the squad shows up. Great.

“Is Y/N wearing Peter’s shirt?” Scott asks,slightly confused.

“Yeah,” Peter interjects, saving you from beinggrilled. “I’m so much cooler than all of you that she decided to dress upas me.”

“Wow, Y/N,” Warren dramatically puts a hand overhis chest. “I thought we had something special.”

“Way to put some effort into your costume,” Jean snorts,her lips curved in a teasing grin.

“Yeah, it seems like she’s just missing a little—”Peter zooms off before finishing his sentence, and as per usual, he’s back asfast as he left. You don’t have time to blink before you find yourself with hissilver leather jacket around your shoulders and he’s grinning down at you as hegently places his goggles on your head. You smile back up at him, silentlythanking him as you slide your arms through the sleeves of his flashy jacket.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Jubilee asks, examiningPeter like he’s a foreign entity.

It takes you no time at all recognize Peter’s costume; apin-striped suit, the jacket a little wide and boxy, his hair is slicked down,and to top it all off, a pencil moustache. You and Peter spent hoursmarathoning the Addams Family on old recorded tapes, how could you not know?

“I think he’s supposed to be a gangster like from thoseold movies you showed me,” Kurt guesses, and Peter shakes his head inresponse.

“I’m actually—”

“I think you gangster costume is missing a fedora,”Scott comments, and Peter drags out an exasperated sigh.

“All right, I give up,” Peter throws his hands upin surrender. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

The crowd parts as he speeds his way through to therefreshments table— which at this point, is a punch bowl mixed withgod-knows-what, with a stack of cups anda few bottles of different drinks and alcohol. Meanwhile, you and the rest ofthe group start to converse, dance, and play Halloween-themed party games. Uponrequest, you start doing your impression of Peter— which you totally nail— andhave everyone in a fit of laughter as the night goes on.

You can only dance around and play party games so muchbefore you become a sweaty mess, so you make a short trip to the bathroom tocool down. When you exit, you see Peter leaning back on the wall of thehallway, waiting for you with a red cup in each hand, one of which he holds outto you.

“Merci,”You accept the cup with a sly smile, and he seems taken aback. You eyes don’tleave his as you bring the cup up to your lips and you see his slightlysurprised expression change to a pleased one. “Don’t think I haven’tnoticed your costume, mon chérie.”

“Cara mía,”A smile takes over his features and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Infact, he’d be telling the biggest lie he’s ever told if he said that you beingthe only person to get his costume andspeaking French didn’t turn him on.

“So, what do you think of my impression of you?”you ask, a playful smirk curving your lips.

“It could use some work,” he says nonchalantly, shiftingso that his side leans on the wall.

“Please,”You roll your eyes, and punch him lightly on the bicep. “I totally nailedyou!”

“Yeah you did,” he smirks, as you mentally slapyourself because you should have seen it coming. “Speaking of which,”He takes a step closer to you and his voice takes on a mischievous tone. Yourchests are mere inches apart, and as the seconds pass, Peter gets increasingly impatient. All he wants todo is tear your— err— his clothes offof you. “We should totally go somewhere and get weird with eachother.”

Dismissing his last comment, you take another sip of yourdrink. “I’ve got you pinned—”

“Yeah you will—”

“I know you better than you know yourself.” Yourgaze bores into his big brown eyes . His pupils are totally blown and there’s ahint of something else you can’t quite put your finger on. The tension onlythickens between you and him, and it feels different than the usual sexualbuild up. It’s the same feeling that made you rush out of his room earlier.

That feeling was so small when you and Peter first startedyour— for lack of a better word— arrangement.You were friends, but not that close; he was attractive, but not someone yousaw as a romantic prospect. As the weeks passed, you started hanging aroundmore with him afterwards, and him with you. Like every friends-with-benefitsagreement, you’re supposed to call it off the second someone catches feelings,but as you realized that afternoon, it turns out you’ve been repressing a lotof feelings for a while now.

To make things more confusing, it was something so simplethat brought on your great epiphany. You had stayed in his bed after sex,clothed in nothing but your underwear and one of his oversized sweaters whilehe showered. He came back to find you had fallen asleep, and woke you up withthe sweetest kiss. His lips felt softer than usual, he smelled of soap, and thewet tips of his hair tickled your cheeks. The smile you saw when you openedyour eyes, made you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.The second he turned around and headed to his closet, it hit you all at onceand you panicked. That’s when you ditched the sweater and left in a hurry,picking up the wrong shirt in the process.

Going through your memory, you swear there are times wherehe had those feelings. Every time, you got scared and must have thought aboutcalling the whole thing off a dozen times, but you and him fell into a grooveand somewhere along the way you subconsciously got attached. And now, as hestands in front of you, you search his eyes for that same spark and you’re moreconfused than ever.

“So you’ve been paying attention to me,” You snortat the cocky expression on his face, once again repressing the hell out of yourfeelings and keep up the back and forth flirting game the two of you alwaysplay. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in love with me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself—” You tip your cup andgulp down the rest of whatever liquid is in it— it tastes like rum and coke,but not quite the same. “We made rules for a reason, remember?” Ruleswhich you’ve already broken.

After all this time you’d think you’d be used to it, but itfeels like all oxygen has escaped your lungs when you notice that his lips are real close to yours. His eyes dart downand come back up to meet yours. “Are you sure you’re not in love with me,Y/L/N?” He’s giving you major heart palpitations and your stomach is doingsome crazy flips, but you definitely can’t tell him that.

“Don’t push it, Maximoff.” You crush the empty cupin your hand and watch it turn to dust and eventually disappear as you vaporizeit. “I’ll see you later— my room.” He’s not sure what it is aboutthat that kind of turns him on, but he definitely doesn’t hate it. Spinning onyour heel, you call over your shoulder as you make your way back to the party, “Andget rid of the pencil stache!”

Before you can join back with the rest of the squad, you’restopped by your best friend— and she just about startled the crap out of you.“So, were you ever going to tell me about you and Peter?”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“How long have you guys been a thing?”

“Were you— uh we're— we’re not a thing—”

“I’m gonna take a wild guess… three months?”

“Accurate.”

You and Jean keep going back and forth, her firing questionsat you, and you trying your best to dodge them until she asks the one thatstops you.

“How long have you been in love with him?”

You freeze for a moment before turning into a stutteringmess. “I-I- love? P-Peter? No— I don't—” You think your heart mightjump right out of your chest and you jump to the first conclusion you can thinkof. “You read my mind?!”

“Not yours,”she specifies, eyes darting over to where Peter is dancing like a mad man.“It’s hard not to hear histhoughts when he’s pretty much screaming them, trust me I’ve tried.”

“I swear I wanted to tell you, but we agreed on certain,ehm, terms and conditions when thisstarted— we thought it would be better if no one knew.”

“It’s okay,” you’re a little surprised, but gladthat she’s hugging you instead of being salty about not telling her. You’re notsure why you expected anything different, she’s always been supportive. “Butare you sure you’re not in love withhim?” It’s almost chilling; those same words came from Peter just momentsago. You look over to where he’s dancing like a total dad, and that samefeeling washes over you again. You’re not sure whether or not you can lie toyour best friend— it wouldn’t make a difference even if you did because youboth already know the answer to that question.

Masterlist | Request a Halloween/Autumn drabble!

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50funny · 5 years

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Mage- Chapter 3: The Party

Part 1-Party Prep

Written By 50funny

Alex sat on the side of the hotel bed with Bip curled up next to him, preening himself. Alex taped his fingers impatiently against the bed post as he waited.

“Come on Liz, we’ve been waiting for like an hour,” complained Alex.

“Hold your horses, it’s only been 20 minutes tops,” Liz shouted back from the bathroom.

The door handle twisted and the bathroom door began to creek open revealing Liz behind it in a beautiful black dress. Alex and Bip stared at Liz, surprised that the tomboyish seeming girl owned such an elegant and expensive looking gown.

“Wow Liz… you look stunning,” said Bip in awe.

“Really, you think it’ll be enough?” Liz asked.

“It’ll be fine,” Alex said changing the subject. “On a more important note, why aren’t we coming to this party again?”

Liz turned around and looked into the mirror sitting on top of the dresser, grabbing a stick of eyeliner and beginning to apply it.

“Because neither of you were invited… duh,”

“Oh come on, every party needs some gate crashers to keep it interesting,” reasoned Alex.

“No means no, Alex,” Liz said frustrated as she turned around to face Alex, gesturing at the pairs clothes. “Besides you guys don’t have any fancy clothes. They’d turn you away dressed like that.”

“I’m sure if we pooled our cash together we’d be able to afford something. Come on please let us go. I wanna get my hands on whatever fancy feast their planning,” begged Alex.

“Huh yeah right, even if we could afford something you’d never be able to pass for high society. At best you might be able to get in as a waiter,” Liz joked.

Liz looked up to the clock on the wall above the bed noticing how late it was getting.

“Oh crap, I’m gonna be late,” Liz panicked as she swiftly grabbed her bag and ran to the door.

“Yeah I told you… you were in there for like an hour,” complained Alex.

Liz opened the door and walked into the hallway before stopping to turn around and look back into the room.

“I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone… ok,” Liz said.

“We won’t,” Bip and Alex sung out in unison.

Liz took one last untrusting glance at the pair before closing the door and running off down the hallway. Alex and Bip sat silently in the room for a moment.

“So, what’s the plan then Alex,” Bip questioned.

Bip looked over to Alex who continued to sit in silence, a devilish smile stretched across his face.

“Oh no, what are you planning?” said Bip concerned.

Part 2- The Party

Liz stood alone in an unpopulated corner of the large, noisy ballroom looking out at the high society mingling together chatting.

“I do say, when shall we be seeing our host for this evening?” a man in the crowd questioned.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he never shows, I hear this Lance is quite the elusive figure” replied the man’s female companion.

Liz let out a slight sigh as she listened to the chatter from around the room.

“How am I gonna impress Lance if he doesn’t even show up,” Liz thought to herself. “Maybe I should just leave, this is pointless, even if Lance does show up, how am I gonna impress him, he’s a first class mage and I’m just a nobody,”

Liz clenched her fist as her determination returned once again.

“No I can’t think like that, I will become the greatest mage of all time. I just need to wait for Lance to make his grand appearance and do everything I can to impress him. How hard could that be? Still though this high class crap isn’t really me” thought Liz. “If this is what Lance’s lifestyle is like, maybe he’s not the best fit as my mentor after all”

“Excuse me madam, champagne?”

The waiter’s sudden offer interrupted Liz’s thoughts. She took a quick glance over at the waiter as he held out a dish with a metal lid covering it.

“Ah, no thanks I’m goo…,” Liz said before stopping suddenly.

Liz stood back in shock as she realized who stood before her. She reached out her arm and pointed an accusing finger towards the waiter.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Liz angrily whispered so as to not draw attention to herself.

“Look Liz! It’s me, Alex,” Alex revealed pulling off his fake moustache.

“Yeah I know it’s you idiot, what are you doing here? How’d you even get in without an invite?” questioned Liz.

“You said me and Bip could get in as waiters. Thanks for the idea by the way” Alex said.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that Alex. Where is Bip anyway?” Liz asked.

“In here,” came Bip’s voice from inside Alex’s tuxedo.

Liz looked down towards Alex’s stomach noticing that he had a much larger gut than she remembered.

“Bip?” said Liz unsure.

“Please help me, Alex shoved me in here when I wasn’t looking, and whoever rented this tuxedo before us forgot to wash it,” pleaded Bip.

“Yeah, well don’t complain, did you really think anyone would believe you were a waiter, you drew too much attention to us,” reasoned Alex.

“Whatever, I really don’t care. Why did you two even come here? Just to torment me?” Liz said fed up with her friends antics.

“Haha shouldn’t that be obvious,” said Alex slyly.

Alex began to pull the lid off the tray he was holding out revealing an enormous mound of various fancy foods stacked messily on top of each other.

“So we could enjoy this delicious fancy feast,” Alex exclaimed his mouth watering.

Alex immediately began greedily scoffing down the mountain of food, sending various crumbs and scraps flying around the surrounding area.

“Oh my gosh! This food is delicious! it’s like my taste buds died and went to heaven,” Alex sputtered out, the food stuffed in his mouth making it nearly impossible to understand him.

“Hey no fair. Send some of that my way man,” begged Bip.

“What do you think you’re doing there,” came a deep voice from behind the pair.

Alex turned around to see a large man stomping quickly over to them. He wore a tight fitting suit, like those of the waiters, but with gold epaulettes. The man reached the group and loomed ominously above Alex.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing you idiot,” the head waiter snarled.

“Wh…. What are you talking about?” Alex stuttered.

“Don’t play dumb with me, eating in front of the guests is strictly prohibited and in such a disgusting manner as well,” he growled. “Not to mention how informally you’ve been addressing our guest here, I’ve been listen to you harass her for a while now. I must ask what sort of hovel where you raised in? You’re going to be washing dishes for the rest of the evening and once this event’s over I’ll personally see to it you never work in hospitality again!”

The head waiter grabbed Alex by his collar, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing at all.

“Hey man comes on it’s not like that at all. We’re friends, she doesn’t mind really,” Alex pleaded.

Turning his face towards Liz, the head waiter’s lips formed into a well-practiced, welcoming smile.

“I do apologies for bothering you madam, but is what this man says true?” asked the head waiter hospitably.

Alex looked at Liz his eyes pleading with her to take mercy on him. Liz looked at Alex for a moment contemplating what to do before a devilish smile stretched across her face. Liz looked back up at the man.

“Certainly not! This man just started talking to me, no matter how much I requested him to stop,” said Liz in as posh a way she could manage. “Please get him out of my sight, immediately”

“Thank you madam, of course, right away,” the large man said politely before walking away carrying Alex. “Let’s go. When I’m done with you you’ll wish you were never born.”

“Wait what, Liz how could you! I thought we were meant to be friends!” yelled Alex as he was dragged off to the kitchen.

Liz waved at Alex sarcastically as he was carted off.

She looked away from Alex and returned to her silent watch, waiting for Lance’s grand entrance.

“Good riddance. Why is it so important for him to ruin this party for me,” Liz thought. “And what was with that costume? What kind of an idiot would think that was a good idea.”

Liz felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me miss, champagne?” came a voice from behind her.

Liz turned around to face the waiter.

“No thank you I’m….. You’ve got to be kidding me,” Liz said in disbelief.

Standing in front of Liz, wearing a near identical fake waiter costume to Alex and carrying a tray filled with glasses of champagne, was Lance.

Lance’s face split into a huge grin. “Liz, it’s me, Lance,” he said. “You know, the mage.”

Liz looked at Lance, dumbfounded by what she was seeing.

Part 3- Lance’s Test

Liz and Lance slowly walked down a long, ornate hallway. Exposed timber beams arched high overhead and a variety of delicately detailed water paintings covered the walls.

“Wow this place is fancy,” Liz said in amazement.

“Yes it is quite the spectacle isn’t it,” Lance replied.

Liz looked over to Lance walking a few feet in front of her.

“Umm, excuse me Lance but I’ve got to ask. What’s with the get up? Why would you go in disguise to your own party?” Liz questioned.

“Well I never was a fan of the upper class society, despite being part of it myself. This party is more of an obligation than anything else,” responded Lance turning to face a large wooden door.

The walls of the room were covered floor to ceiling by tall bookshelves. Every shelf was packed full with every kind of book imaginable. A roaring fire danced in the fireplace casting shadows across the books. A single, well-worn leather chair sat beside a small table. Lance walked into the room followed closely behind by Liz who looked around the room with amazement.

“Wow I’ve never seen anything like this. You must have every book ever written in here,” Liz exclaimed.

“Well, not quite every book, but it certainly is quite the collection,” Lance said.

Lance walked over to the table by the fireplace grabbing a tray with two glasses of champagne on it. Lance brought the tray over to Liz grabbing one of the glasses and offering it to her.

“Here you are,” Lance offered.

“Ahh no thanks. I don’t really drink,” Liz said.

“Fair enough then,” Lance said placing down the tray.

Lance held the glass out in his right hand while holding his left over the top. He focused his eyes squarely on the glass and began moving his left hand down the front of it, eventually reaching its base. Liz looked on amazed as the liquid in the glass changed from a clear watery yellow to a deep orange color. Lance reached the glass out towards Liz once again with a smile on his face.

“Would orange juice be more your speed?” asked Lance.

“Wow that was amazing, you’re so cool!” Liz exclaimed taking the glass from Lance.

“Not really, that’s a very basic move. You’ll learn much more than that as my apprentice,” said Lance.

Liz began to sip on her juice before she realized just what Lance had said.

She lowered the glass. “Wait, do you mean, I passed your test?” Liz asked excitedly.

“I suppose you have, I sense a great potential in you, I would be a fool if I didn’t take the chance to hone it,” Lance replied.

Liz looked at Lance for a moment as her excitement began to build up inside her. She jumped towards Lance hugging him tightly dropping her glass on the ground as she did.

“Oh my god I can’t believe it! I actually did it, thank you so much. I won’t let you down I promise!” Liz blurted out.

“I know you won’t. Although I hope I can live up to your expectations, I haven’t had an apprentice in many many years,” said Lance.

Liz felt a giddy rush and let go, stood back from Lance looking at him slightly surprised.

“Oh come on, it can’t have been that long ago? You’re like what, early fifty’s or something?” Liz asked.

“yes well, looks can be deceiving,” Lance said an evil smile stretching across his face.

“What’s that supposed to mea…” Liz said before a wave of dizziness cut her off.

Liz had began to grow incredibly dizzy. The room seemed to shake and wobble around causing her to lose her balance and stumble clumsily around the room. She tried to maintain her balance but to no avail, and fell down to the floor as her body stopped responding to her. She tried to focus her still spinning vision onto Lance who was looking at her with dark intent.

“Well I’m impressed, that poison is supposed to take effect immediately. You really are a strong one aren’t you,” Lance smirked evilly.

“Wh… what did you do to me,” Liz mumbled.

“Don’t worry, it’s not life threatening or anything. Besides this is actually exactly what you wanted.” Lance reassured Liz “You said you wanted to become just like me, and you will, quite literally in fact”

Liz’s head collapsed as she lost control over the muscles in her neck.

“What’s the matter with you? What are you even talking about?” Liz hissed.

“Haha, it’s quite simple really, it’s a special technique I invented a long time ago. You see I was always afraid of my own mortality, so I spent my life attempting to find a way to escape it. I had the determination and the resources thanks to my… likeminded friends. I was sure I could find cure for death, but alas I was wrong,” explained Lance. “I was on my death bed surrounded by a family who had long since disinherited me, that’s when it struck me, the body is just a container, holding within it a soul, and even if the body died, surely the soul could live on in a different container. I had my theory all I needed to do was test it. My new body had to be one with magical ability’s. Unfortunately the only suitable candidate user was my young niece, not an ideal container, but good enough. While they all watched my old body die I lived on, and I continued to live on. I couldn’t tell you how many lives I’ve lived, but trust me, you’ll be joining a long line of great mages, so it’s really a win win, haha,” Lance laughed manically.

Liz listened in horror and disbelief at what she was hearing.

“That’s impossible, you’re insane!” Liz yelled.

“Oh believe me it’s quite possible, but I suppose you don’t have to believe me for the process to work. Don’t worry it won’t hurt at all, or at least I don’t think it will. I’ve never asked,” Lance said as he knelt down over Liz.

Lance reached his hands out over Liz’s head. A light red glow began to emanate from his palms growing deeper in color and spreading across the rest of his hands. Suddenly the large wooden door flung open with a loud thud catching Lance off guard as he looked over to face the door. Standing in the center of the doorway was Alex staring back at Lance with a cold icy glare.

“My oh my, that was quite the entrance, you’re the boy from this morning aren’t you?” asked lance.

Alex remained stone faced as he walked slowly into the room.

“I take it you’re here to try and help your friend. Would that be correct?” Lance continued grinning menacingly at Alex.

“‘Spose, something like that,” replied Alex taking up a fighting stance.

“How noble of you, but foolish all the same,” Lance said standing back up. “But I don’t recall inviting you to this event, so I suppose I am obliged to remove you from the premises,” he continued taking up a similar fighting stance.

As Alex and Lance prepared for a battle to the death, Liz watched on, wondering just how Alex could save her when facing off against such a powerful mage.

________________________________________________________________To Be Continued-

Thank you for reading chapter 3 of mage. if you like what you’ve seen please consider following my tumblr for a new chapter every Friday. Until next week, have a good day.

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