#we did a sample on the walls and it looked ok but its different when its literally all over

[freakscircus]

i was in charge of picking paint colors for the house and picked such a risky color for our bedroom.... its a terra cotta dusty orange/pink color. i was trying to mimic lime wash pink without the pain of actually having to do lime wash. anyway it just happens that i'm out of town on the weekend that K is starting painting so i might be coming home to either a really beautiful, warm, italian villa-esque room (god i hope) or a weird garrish little girl bedroom disaster. ahhh!!!!!!!!!!!

[hawkeyetrained]

I'm the Alpha

Derek Hale x reader platonic...kinda? Not properly together but reader has a crush on him

Other Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey

Warnings: canon violence (kinda?), language (like 1 swear), mention of blood, stiles and derek bickering as they do, that’s it I think?

Summary: Trying to help the newly turned werewolf after he was arrested seems to go worse than anyone could have expected. Thankfully the alpha has it covered

Word Count: 1,363

Stiles, Derek, and I were seated in the infamous blue jeep outside the police station. Derek’s new beta was inside, and the full moon was going to be at its peak in moments. It was our job to get in there and hopefully get Isaac out before he tore apart the entire station.

“Ok, now the keys to the cells are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office.” Stiles began to explain. I leaned between the two seats, listening to my friend tell us the plan. “The problem is getting past the front desk.”

Derek shrugged in the passenger seat. “I’ll distract her.”

Stiles’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “Whoa, whoa, whoa…you? You’re not going in there.” He grabbed onto Derek’s shoulder as he talked. Derek was arrested a few weeks ago thanks to whatever Stiles and Scott shared with the sheriff. A firm glare set in Derek’s eyes the longer the hand that Stiles placed stayed on his shoulder. “I’m taking my hand off.”

“I was exonerated.”

I sighed. “You’re still a person of interest though.”

“An innocent person.” He rebutted, giving me a look like it was obvious.

“You? Yeah, right. Ok, fine. What’s your plan?” Stiles questioned how Derek would distract the front desk officer.

“To distract her.” Derek drew the words out, like Stiles simply didn’t understand the meaning.

“Uh-huh.” Stiles nodded. “How? By punching her in the face?”

I rolled my eyes at my friend, opting to side with Derek, who simply huffed. “By talking to her.” I could barely see the front officer, her hair pulled back into a standard bun as she shuffled paperwork around.

“Ok, all right. Give us a sample. Practice on Y/N. What are you going to open with?” My cheeks burned as Derek and I looked at each other, silence filling the Jeep. “Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?”

Derek shrugged again, turning to look out the front window. “I’m thinking of punching you in the face.”

“Ok, ok. Both of you chill out. Derek can distract her, ok, Stiles? I’m sure he’ll have no problem. I mean, haven’t you noticed how all the girls look at him? He could probably stand there in silence, like you said, and still manage to distract her.” I tried mediating the situation, letting Derek get out of the car before I climbed out through the passenger side. Derek held the door open for me as I jumped out, rounding the car to meet up with Stiles in order to help him get the cell keys.

The relationship between Derek and I was vastly different from him and the two boys. Derek had been cold and quite harsh with Scott when he was first bit, and dismissive of Stiles, but with me, he’d been almost gentle. Derek took the time to help explain some of the things about werewolves to me, so I’d be able to help my friend through the changes, and over time I had developed the biggest crush on him.

As Derek started talking with the front desk officer, Stiles grabbed my hand and pulled me along through a side door and down the hall to his father’s office. I stayed by the window as a lookout as Stiles went over to the lockbox on the wall. He quickly punched in the code and pulled the cover off. “Did you get them?” I asked, watching for anyone in the hall.

“Oh no.” Stiles looked back over to me, showing the empty case before we both headed out of the office. “I’m going to check this way, you go see if you can find Isaac, try to keep him calm.”

“Be careful.” I told Stiles, turning and heading down the hall towards the back of the station. My steps managed to stay pretty quiet as I turned down hall after hall. I had plenty of practice running around the station; having grown up with Stiles as my best friend, I spent a ton of time in the station.

I turned down another hall, only to come face to face with a deputy. “Oh, I um...” I hesitated on what to say, flickering my gaze down to the ground to think. My eyes, however, caught sight of a bloody pant leg and keys hanging from one hand of the officer. Looking back up, I took a step back. “Oh, shit.” I attempted to turn and run, nearly managing to call for Stiles or Derek, but a hand clasped over my mouth, and another wrapped around my chest, dragging me backwards.

My feet thrashed as I tried gaining some footing on the slippery floors, hands trying to pull at the stronger man’s arms around me, but it was no use. I did manage to grab onto the fire alarm lever and pull as I was dragged into the holding area, the alarms sounding and lights flickering instantly.

Finally, the officer, who I was now assuming to be a hunter, threw me to the ground and turned to face the three cells that lined the back wall. I slid back towards a corner of the room, looking at the cell doors to see the middle one barely hanging on to its hinges.

Isaac pounced from the other end of the room, shoving the hunter into the wall near me. He had completely wolfed out, fangs bared and eyes glowing bright yellow as he shoved against the hunter. I scrambled on my hands to the other side of the steel desk in the room, opting for that between Isaac and I should he turn his attention from the hunter. The hunter had pulled a syringe from his pocket, filled with some kind of thick liquid I was sure was meant to hurt or even kill the werewolf in the room. Isaac was too quick though. He managed to catch the hunters hand before it could jab the needle into his skin and twisted. The hunters wrist bent back to a point I thought it was going to snap before he dropped the syringe to the floor, the glass rolling a few feet to be closer to me as Isaac slammed the hunter’s head back into the wall, effectively knocking him out.

Derek stepped into the room with us then, his boot coming down to shatter the glass syringe near me. Isaac had turned his attention from the hunter on the ground towards the sound of shattering glass and whatever he could smell coming from the liquid that seemed slowly onto the tiled floor, his bright yellow eyes stopping dead on me as I still sat on the ground. A deep growl built up in his chest as he turned fully to face me, shoulders tensed like I was the next target, and he was prepared to attack.

I barely had enough time to raise my hands up as a weak form of defense before Derek was in front of me. His arms were slightly flared out at his sides, knees bent into a half crouch, as he let out a loud and deep roar towards the beta. Isaac was on the ground, curled up into the wall opposite me a moment after, hands shaking as they wrapped around his head for protection.

My heart was pounding in my ears still when Derek turned back to me. His eyes were burning bright red but fading back to his normal deep brown as he reached out to me with one hand. My own hand trembled as I held onto his and let him pull me to my feet next to him. “You ok?” He asked, his hand dropping mine but coming up to brush some of my hair out of my face, eyes searching for any wounds or fear I’d have of him.

I let out a shaky breath, but I nodded. “How…how did you do that?” My gaze dropped to Isaac for a moment, noticing that he had shifted out of his wolf form but was covered in sweat and still looked terrified of Derek. A smirk crossed Derek’s face for a moment when I finally looked back up at him.

“I’m the alpha.”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

[apersonshapedcomputer]

part 2 of my villain x hero enemies(?) to lovers fake(?) dating mess

(part 1 here)

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

Phase 1: Scheming

"Now we can't just jump into this whole thing right away, we need to make it believable by dropping hints that this has been going on for at least three months now." I fall into the familiar rhythm explaining a plan, not bothering to look at Dawnstar who follows behind me. "We'll start with a fake digital trail, planting forum threads speculating about unusual behavior from each of us."

I stop in front of an innocuous dark wooden door. It's set into the wall in such a way that it's almost always covered by a shadow, making it blend into the background and not even register in most people's minds as they walk past.

"We'll also need to stage a few photos, taken with a low quality phone camera from a distance of course. Maybe one or two better quality ones mimicking interactions we've had in the past, but from a new angle to create a more… suggestive air to the situation." As I speak I place my hand on the door, allowing the hidden biometric scanners to verify my identity.

"Ok, cool, so like a reverse of that time you basically did an online carpet bombing of a guy's reputation to ruin his company. Why are you feeling up that door- oh." I looked back to get a view of his flabbergasted expression when the door slid open to reveal a long slanted hallway, lit only from a dim path of circular lights set into the titanium alloy flooring. I grabbed his hand as I stepped inside and placed it next to mine on another invisible scanner, this one set into the wall painted with black 3.0.

"Don't mind the pinch, it needs a blood sample to register you so the security measures don't activate when you try to walk through. And yes, I will be using many of the same techniques as when I dragged the bald nitwit's public image through the mud and fed its carcase to the internet trolls."

Releasing his hand once the lights flashed blue in confirmation I made my way down the hall, undaunted by the dozens of lethal security measures built into the walls, floor, and ceiling.

"The big difference here is that I actually had something real to work with then - he really did cheat on his wife, and it was disgustingly easy to get video evidence of him with those very expensive sex workers. Those testimonies they gave were real too, but the leaked emails were all me."

As I reached the end of the hallway and opened the final door, the lights in my subterranean sanctuary slowly faded on. Dawnstar seemed puzzled as he looked around the room. "This is… weirdly cozy for a villainous lair? Like, it feels like you pulled this place out of a dark academia/cottage-core tumblr blog run by a fifteen year old who wishes they lived in a ghibli movie." Even as he tried to reconcile the space with the aggressively professional and lavish presentation of my public office, he wandered towards one of the overstuffed chairs next to the fireplace.

I made my way to the small coatroom by the entrance, keeping the door open as I talked. "I like to be comfortable when I'm scheming. My professional style is intimidating classy, but classy isn't always comfortable or conducive to brainstorming." I made quick work of changing my outfit to a dressing gown as he busied himself with the wall to wall bookshelves.

I relished the look on his face when he turned around and saw me, the eggshell while of the gown contrasting nicely with my dark skin. His reactions are always so amusing. "Here, I feel chafed just looking at you in that outfit." I shove a soft cotton poet shirt and set of lounge pants into his arms before passing through an archway between the books into my kitchen. "Go change into that while I make some tea. I hope you didn't have any plans for the next day or so, we're going to be here a while."

As he finally tore his flustered gaze away from me and went into the coatroom I head him muttering viscously under his breath in Tagalog. The game had barely begun and I was already having so much fun.

By the time he had changed the tea was steeped, and I was laid out on a plush fainting couch in front of a large mirror in a rococo gilt frame. I gestured towards the coffee table and padded rocking chair I'd brought over from another corner of the room. "Take a seat, let's talk timelines." He settled into the chair and started on demolishing the plate of cookies I served with the tea, clearly still off balance and needing the familiar comfort of sweets.

I took out an electronic-ink tablet and with a few taps the mirror flickered to life, presenting us with a view of my grand planning dashboard. "Hmph," Dawnstar grunted and swallowed a mouth full of cranberry-oatmeal cookie, "A magic mirror. Very evil queen of you. Do you have like, a potion lab down here?"

"I keep toxins in the labs up in the R&D wing. The mirror was inspired by the one in snow white actually, I always thought the queen was stupid to use it for finding threats to her position of Most Beutiful and wanted to do it better." I pushed a large ceramic mug of tea towards him. "Here, it's oolong."

"We have two months until Dazzeler and The Crystal Dragonfly have their public reception." An image of the two's save the date card went up on the screen. It's incredible that they managed to tastefully combine the aesthetics of glam rock and wuxia, I need to look into who their event planner is.

"Your Ex has a press pass to the event since he works for Aurora Chronicle, which means that Morning Lodestar, Paragon Herald, Epoch Chronicles, and Society Gazette will be there too." The logos of each newspaper and head-shots of their respective crews for the event went up on the screen.

"Our goal is maximum impact. We don't want to just drop the bomb out of nowhere, we need to build the tension first." My expression at this point may have been slightly manic, judging from the concerned eyebrow raise from over the rim of his mug. Some people never took part in theater when they were children, and it shows.

"You want to break the internet don't you?" I sent him an indulgent smile. "Oh Lovely," he choked on his tea at the endearment, "you're thinking too small. Of course we're going to break the internet, if twitter doesn't crash I'm losing my touch. I'm aiming for the history books here."

"Hurk- Ok. Ok ok, cool cool cool we're doing pet names now." He shimmied in place a little as he took a series of deep breaths. Interesting reaction, I would be using that one again.

He stared at me in thought for a moment, looking for all the world like a disgruntled chipmunk before smiling and nodding his head. "Ok then Dearheart, so we stage a months long secret love affair using your super scary tech and blow the minds of everyone who's ever heard of us. I'm guessing we need to do some acting between now and the wedding?"

Scatterbrain he may sometimes be, but the man can catch on quick. My face broke out into a gleeful grin that I had been told made me look like a slasher movie villain. "We're going to have a very loud, very public fight. Clear your schedule, I'm going to put you through an acting bootcamp. We're going to run lines and blocking for this until you can do it in your sleep."

All the world's a stage, and I am a meticulous director.

To be continued…

(part 3 here)

[engbergeurovacay23]

Sunday, funday, in Girona!

We had high hopes of getting up earlier to hit the road for the one-hour drive to Girona on Sunday, so that we could "beat the heat," so to speak, but that was a mere fantasy! Wishful thinking, indeed! We did our usual routine on this trip of sleeping til after 8, having a leisurely and weird breakfast that the kids sort of ate, going to the pool outside the back gate, fielding requests by the kids for more food, taking care of wet towels and suits -- and then mustering to leaving the townhouse. By the time we did hit the road toward Girona, I think it was just before noon.

Eric was very eager to see Girona because it has played such an important role for professional cycling teams over the years. Many are headquartered there and their cyclists call it a European home base. The weather allows them to ride all year. And, there are all the terrains they need to train on nearby. Girona is only an hour from L'Estartit, so pretty soon after we left L'Estartit, and we were making our way through fields of corn and sunflowers, we started to see plenty of cyclists going every which way. But--surprise, surprise--it was very, very hot. Gary from the boat tour told us that there is such an epic drought going on that many of the reservoirs are incredibly strained. I can believe it looking at the hillsides. They just look dry. I am not sure if they're supposed to look green in the summertime, but they do not. The fields of corn and sunflowers seem to be getting the water they need, but everything just seems really hot and parched. There was no rain at all during our time in Spain. So, on the topics of it being hot and cycling, well, I wondered how the cyclists were doing cycling in the middle of the day in such blazing weather. Yes, professionals have to train in such conditions, because they might face them in a race, but weekend warriors might be able to go at a different time of day? When Eric was still road cycling all the time, he did try to get out early to beat the New Mexico heat.

Anyway, we arrived to Girona and found a parking spot in a public lot right adjacent to their large public park, Parc de la Devesa. It was an amazing, beautiful park, with neat rows of huge trees as far as the eye could see! We only stayed in the park briefly, with a short stop at the playground. I will say, it doesn't seem like Spanish parents are as into playground small-talk as Americans. I mean, I don't think many people are as friendly-with-strangers as American people, by and large, from my small sample size. This is fine, of course. I mean, I love Finns and Finland, and they are among the least bubbly people there are, so their reputation says. But, I was just reflecting on how when American parents are at the playground, often we chit-chat with other parents to while away the time while the kids play-- I mean, not always, but it is totally not anomalous to do so.

The first epic building we visited in Girona was the Basílica de Sant Feliu, and mass was actually in progress at the time we entered (which we were not alone in doing; we just stood quietly at the back and observed, and then left). Its construction began in the 12th century! There are lots of steps in Girona--so if you go, have your climbing legs ready! Also featuring a huge and visually impactful set of stairs was our next stop: Girona Cathedral. If you are a Game of Thrones fan, you will recognize this site (from the "Shame! Shame!" scene). We did not enter Girona Cathedral, but instead started our walk along some medieval walls behind the Cathedral; the walls were built in the 9th century, replete with slats to shoot arrows through. We visited another ancient structure, a tower, which gave us an impressive panorama of the city. It really is amazing-looking!

OK, so by this time, need I say it, I was about to expire from heat ;) Not probably legitimately, but we were all hot--well, the kids and I were hot, but Eric seemed chill and was not hungry, but the kids and I were. I consulted my Google Map and one eatery that popped up for me was La Fabrica, dubbed a brunch eatery and "cycle cafe"; I was like, "we're on it." And, not to sound like a spoiled and cosseted American (but, if the shoe fits, I guess), it had aire acondicionado, and was muy fresco. The food was also totally amazing and the staff was friendly --and the owner is a former professional cyclist, one-time Canadian national champion Christian Meier and his wife. All of the cycling memorabilia and all of the antiques assembled by Christian's wife were so cool. And we chatted with her and she was super sweet and I think has become Cece's new hair idol: her hair went way down past her waist. We all had a good time there. I had a lovely toast with roasted tomatoes and burrata, and Rowan had the most gorgeous yogurt parfait you've ever seem, and Cece had a bagel with cheddar and salmon. The food was very much in the kids' repertoire and it was well done and beautifully plated.

There were not many stores open on Sunday because in addition to it being Sunday, it was also election day. We walked through the ancient corridors and narrow alleys and stairwells and went to the Jewish Quarter (Jews lived in quite significant numbers in Girona between the 9th century and the 15th century, when they were expelled) and I'd hoped to go to the Jewish Museum, but it was not open when we got there.

We took a meandering route back to our car and then drove back to L'Estartit, arriving back around 5 p.m. The kids were desperate to cool off in the pool, so that they did. I made an unusual but well received dinner with the eggplants and garlic we had remaining from our hosts, along with some goat cheese we'd picked up at a great and very busy grocery story, Supermercat GP (where we also bought several other items to take with us to France the next day). The dish was a pasta dish with onion, garlic, balsamic, tomato, and goat cheese. C'est très bien! I found it odd that the Supermercat GP had a small picket-fenced-in playground in the middle of the parking lot.

After dinner, though it was already 8 p.m., we agreed to let the kids go to the beach briefly, since we knew it'd be their last dip in the sea in Spain. Of course, time got away from us, and they didn't get to bed until just before 10 p.m.--yet again.

The next morning (today, Monday), we collected all of our gear and cleaned up and splashed in the pool, and Eric and Rowan went on a run (Rowan has started his cross-country training since he is joining cross-country this Fall), and --then!-- we were off on the road towards France. More on that in the next post!

[morgansmoreid]

Do You Still Love Me • Derek Morgan • Chapter Nine

Chapter Name: " Reasonable"

Fic Masterlist

Italic writing stands for flashbacks.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Parental Abuse, Drugs Mention, Homophobia

Bold Writing stands for what happened at the station while Y/n was not present

---

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four.

Y/n's feet clacked against the concrete floor.

Rubbing the palm of her hand against the outline of the pills, Y/n moved along the cars as she slowly walked to the station, this time her mind as empty as an open field.

The station was in her view quicker than anticipated. She pulled open the front door, the bell above it causing everyone who was in ear's views to turn their heads. Scanning each face carefully, relief swayed through Y/n as no face was anyone she dreaded to talk to.

Her relief was cut short as Aaron walked down the hall to her left with the team, her father, and James.

"That was all we needed to know," She heard him say as Aaron shook her father's hand.

James was the first to see her, alerting the rest of the people surrounding him by clearing his throat. Y/n made eye contact with James, her breaking first as her eyes fell to her feet. Thoughts of turning around and sprinting on her heels again popped in Y/n's head, but she ignored them and just looked to the floor.

"Y/n Y/L/N-Fields, please come with us." Emily moved from the center of the group and to Y/n, reaching out her hand to lead Y/n the way of the interrogation room. Y/n took it, keeping her head down as they walked past the group, eyes burning through her back as the pills in her pocket scream her name.

Emily opens the door and lets Y/n take a seat before heading outside again. Everyone is looking at the young female through the one-sided window, their eyes still leaving the same burning gaping hole.

Aaron and David come in, both faces stoic and tense. In hand, Aaron has a yellow pad and a pee cup while David has a blood test. Y/n's eyes grow wide at the objects placed in front of her before she sits up straight and lays her hands on the table.

"You aren't drug testing me." She says, her tone assertive but calm.

"But we are," David replies, looking over to Aaron.

"You understand that this is a federal investigation now? If you comply, these samples will not go on record but will be used for further inference. If you don't, they will go on your job record and you will be on leave effective immediately." Aaron threatened, leaving Y/n no choice.

"I'm clean." She mumbled as she rolled her sleeve for the blood test. Even if she wasn't, it wouldn't show for another 2 days, so it would be negative anyway.

Aaron said nothing as he opened the blood kit and wiped Y/n's inner arm with a sanitary wipe. Y/n winced at the needle entering her arm, the pain lasting as blood filled four tubes. Placing a bandaid on her arm, Aaron disposed of the needle in a different bag before opening the door and handing it to a hand outside.

Y/n may have not seen the person who took the bag, but she saw Derek. He was leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed. They made eye contact, this time neither one breaking it, just before the door closed.

"Do you need water?" David's voice pulled Y/n out of her thoughts.

Yes. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

Yes. Water would go well with the pills in her pocket.

"No thank you," Y/n looks up to David. He gives her the look of pity and sorrow and she feels herself hanging on by a thread.

"Come with me then," David holds the look as he turns around, cup in hand, and opens the door for Y/n.

Walking out, Y/n and David turn to the right from the small room while the team and others are on the left. David stands outside of the unisex bathroom as Y/n pees in the given cup. Washing her hands, Y/n stares at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes are red and her arm is now in pain. She feels like she's in one of those bad teenage romcoms, where the main character fucks up her life and in the end, it gets better. She's just waiting for her cue.

The silence lasts in the bathroom as Y/n bags her cup and places it on the small window ledge. She could run right now if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be worth it. Y/n turns on the bathroom faucet again and pulls out the baggie of pills from her pocket. 7 white tablets look at her as she takes one into her hand and shoves the rest back into hiding.

Just before she could bring her hand to her mouth and consume the evil, little miraculous wonder, David knocked on the door causing her to drop the pill in fright. Right into a puddle of "water," the pill went as Y/n hissed at the closed brown door.

"Fuck!" Her words echoed in the small room.

"Y/n? Is everything ok in there?" David's voice is muffled on the other side.

Instead of answering him, Y/n grabs the cup and pushes open the door, slamming the cup into the elder's hand and walking back into the integration room. She passes everyone, this time not bothering to even acknowledge Derek's presence, or his attempt to talk to her.

She slacks down in her seat and waits for the next person to walk through the door. It's Aaron again, with Penelope's laptop and a tape recorder in hand as he carries a file in his armpit.

"Before we start, shall I address you as Fields or Y/L/N?" Aaron precautions.

"Y/L/N, and only Y/L/N," Y/n says, voice cold as ice.

"Ok then, for the record, can you please state your full name, your age, and the year?" The first question leaves Aaron's lips.

"My name is Y/n Y/L/N, I am 29, and it's the year 2008."

Hotch scribbles Y/n's words down and opens the laptop. When he turns it to her, it's already open to a cheer photo from Y/n's sophomore year of high school.

"Please state who you recognize in this photo." Aaron opens the file that was once under his arm.

Eyes read the screen multiple times as the memories resurface in Y/n's head and the names leave her mouth.

"Sabrina Chains, Joanna McCarter, Daisy Miller, Rose Henry, Arianna Anderson, Megan Smith, Daniela Choi, Christina Middleton, and Catarina Paredes."

It's not in order, Sabrina is actually next to Daisy and Joanna is standing next to Daniela, but when Y/n recognized the face, she said the name.

"And who is this?" Aaron hits the right arrow key to move to the next slide. Y/n is horrified by what she sees. It's not another group picture or even a single picture of one of the women, it's a crime scene photo.

It's Arianna's crime scene photo, the only crime Y/n wasn't surrounded by the group for. The hotel room is way messier than others, the behavior completely changed from the last 3. Blood is everywhere, money and jewelry are splattered across the floor and there are no numbers on top of the body or anywhere for that matter. If the other kills weren't personal, this was. Arianna was killed by someone in rage and mixed emotion.

Just how Y/n left the team.

She can only look at the gruesome crime scene for so long until she reaches for the hood of the laptop to shut it off. Aaron is quicker and pulls it out of her sight as he switches to another picture of the crime scene, this time the bathroom.

Two looks and Y/n is ready to throw up. She trained for this, she worked her ass off for the last 5 years on how to keep her composure, yet, she's failing to keep herself together. The bathroom is a mess, clothes are ripped and makeup is smeared on walls, this unsub lost control or this is a new killer. Either way, it's not Y/n and there is no way that the team can possibly deem her that low.

"Please turn it off." Her voice is tense and demanding.

Aaron does shut the laptop and turns it to him. He takes a minute to write down his observations and proceeds with the integration further.

"When you left the Police Station, you were gone for 2 hours and 13 minutes, where did you go?" He asks, writing down the question as he says it.

"James, where is she?" David asks, handing Spencer a miniature Newton's cradle to calm him down.

Everyone looks at James for an answer. After Y/F/N was questioned, he and James were separated for the sake of the case. James was working on a different case file, wrapping it up on the end of the conference table while the team focused on Y/n.

"I'm not positively sure," James lied, rubbing the back of his neck as his handwriting started to get sloppy against the manila folder and its contents inside.

"Well, where do you think?" Derek spoke, his tone snappy and agitated.

After Y/F/N gave up his truth about Y/n's past and her drug problems, Derek was also questioned, not officially, just about how much he knew and what he wasn't letting on. Derek was honest with Hotch and the team, telling them he had no idea about Y/n's problem. Yes, it was true sometimes it intrigued him when they had date night and she never drank anything besides sparkling water, but when she blamed it on "past issues," he assumed it ran in the family.

He assumed because he trusted her.

And she broke that.

"Michael? The guy that Chief Fields couldn't stand? He lived right over here." James gets up and points to the computer screen. Y/n's last coordinates were still up so he dragged his pen across the screen, measuring out the distance for the team as he landed on the only colorful house in satellite view.

"I thought Michael was who introduced her into the drugs in the first place?" Aaron walks over to James.

"It's not really his fault, I've always told Y/n that she could've said no," James responds, becoming silent from everyone's glare at him.

"Saying no isn't easy," Derek mumbles, so low, no one heard him.

No one could say anything as another policeman came into the room frantically about a new body.

Y/n had only been gone 34 minutes at most. There was no way it could be her so quickly, but that didn't stop everyone's thoughts from going to the deep end.

As the team flies into the SUVs, Aaron orders Penelope to keep watch on Y/n's coordinates and dig very thoroughly of the lives of the 9 women, 5 now potential victims.

"Someone has it out for these women, and I wouldn't put it past that Y/n is the glue." He said, tightening his holster.

"I just walked around, took time to clear my head." Y/n lied.

Everyone knew where she was, but Aaron didn't call her out on her false truth and asked the next question.

"When was the last time you purchased any narcotics of the sort, Opioids, Cannabinoids, Hallucinogens, and or Stimulants?" Aaron asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer himself.

"Last time I was in town, 5 years ago." Y/n lies again.

This time, half of the team is unsure if it's true. James knows deep down it's a lie, but the rest of them don't want to believe it.

So Aaron doesn't push.

"And the last time you consumed any of the narcotics listed before?"

This question, everyone wants the truth, everyone is determined to figure out if they let another team member sink into their addiction before their eyes or if Y/n truly did put her life here behind her.

"As I said, last time I was in town, 5 years ago," Y/n says, her tone changing. It speaks of truth, which tells everyone, even her father that she lied about the last time she bought drugs and where she was, but they don't care about that at this moment.

All they care about is her sobriety, they were still her family after all.

Aaron smiles internally as he writes Y/n's answer on the yellow pad, then ripping the sheet off and sliding it underneath the cardboard. When he does this, the next yellow sheet visible is not blank, it's all of Y/F/N's previous questions. The horrible lights make it hard to see all of them but it still shines bright on the first one.

"What was discipline like as Y/n grew up?" Aaron asks his first question.

The question throws Y/F/N off guard. That had nothing to do with the investigation, what did the FBI want to know about his parenting?

"I believe you were asked a question," David says beside Aaron, arms crossed.

"This has to do what with the investigation?" Y/F/N asked, finally understanding the concept of what he was being asked.

"Agent Hotchner, are you implying that I abused my daughter?" He accused, now not feeling so compliant.

"I didn't say anything to imply, did I, Agent Rossi?" Aaron says loud and clear, bringing the tape recorder to him.

"Not at all, but I think you should repeat it, someone seems confused," Rossi taunted.

"Y/F/N Fields, what was discipline like as Y/n, your daughter grew up?" Aaron demanded an answer.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N said.

"Reasonable how?" Rossi pressed.

"If needed, I taught my daughter wrong from right," Y/F/N replied confidently.

"Did you at any given point in time, use your power as a parent to hit Y/n as a punishment?" Aaron asked bluntly. He hated abusers, it was something about finding pain and taking it out on others that he just could never understand.

"I did. But like I said when it was reasonable." His mouth forms into an undeniable smirk.

Y/F/N's hand went across Y/n's face.

"I said I was sorry!" The girl cried, she was only trying to show her dad an A+ she got.

"You're always sorry, there was no reason for you to knock that down." The angry male pointed to the empty cup on the floor.

Out of excitement, Y/n's elbow hit the plastic cup and knocked it down, but she was backed into the wall before she could pick it up, dropping her graded test midway.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N mumbled to himself.

Anger filled Y/n as her eyes went over the word reasonable.

Never once was Y/F/N reasonable.

Never.

Clenching her fists, Y/n sits up straight and zones back into her conversation with Aaron.

"Can you ask it again?" She says, making straight eye contact.

"Your relations to Daniela Choi?" Aaron asks.

Y/n doesn't know how to reply, she knows Derek is watching so she has to careful with her answer.

"I was-," She gathers her thoughts. "We were pretty close."

It's not a lie. They were close, extremely.

"Who would you say Y/n was closest to?" Aaron asks James.

The team started the investigation from the very beginning, so now everyone was a suspect.

"I've got a funny feeling about that dude, Hotch," Derek says, but his judgment is clouded, he's angry and hurt so to make him feel better, Aaron took James in for questioning.

"Daniela." James's answer is short.

"Why?"

"They dated, for a long time, blew up our whole group," James explains.

"What group?" Aaron flies through the files that he brought in.

Instead of answering, James takes out a picture.

"He's prepared." JJ points out.

The picture is a cheer team, James is nowhere to be found but the first person to catch Aaron's eye is the babyface of Y/n, she in middle, engulfed in a hug by a female with curly mixed hair- Arianna he later finds out. He wants to question why James has this but James continues to talk.

"Not everyone was supportive."

"What?" Rose asked.

"I'm dating Y/n," Daniela said slowly, it was time the two told their friends, the thought of banishment slipping their minds.

"You and Y/n? But your both girls!" Rose exclaimed, as the pastor's daughter, she was raised to what she thought was right.

"So? My mom said it doesn't matter and we both know Y/F/N won't bat an eye." Daniela spoke for both her and Y/n.

"Guys! Help me out here, tell them it's wrong." Rose looked around the booth, empty cups filled the large table as her high pitch voice filled the empty diner.

"How is it wrong?" Caterina scoffed, she could never have the courage to do what Danny and Y/n are doing but she'll stand by them no matter what.

"The bible-" Rose protests.

"For the last time, not all of us live by the damn bible!" James slammed his hand on the teal table before them.

Everyone loved each other, no one cared for anyone's flaws, like Rose's, who always ignored everyone when they try to tell her they don't want to hear bible quotes, or Y/n who always inserts herself into drama.

They were each other's little family and until now nothing has torn them apart.

"I refuse to be around them and their sins," Rose shoved her finger into Y/n's, finally the young girl to stand up.

"And we refuse to be around you." Y/n's tone is cold and tense.

"We all do." Arianna stood up.

"Christina?" Rose looked at the oldest for help.

"You heard them, you can't hate one without hating all of us." She said.

Christina's word was final. If she said someone was out, they were out, no discussion. She just had to say the words.

"Rose, are you staying or leaving?" She asked.

"I'm leaving, my dignity lasts." Rose proudly held her head high.

"Bye then. You longer are allowed to hang out with us." Christina said with much more pride.

The 10 at the table watched the first walk away.

"Not everyone agreed." James rephrased his sentence, fists clenching in anger.

As James told Aaron how the day that Rose left the group went, his fingers dug deeper into his hand, and when he finally let go, crescent marks left their place.

"When you say close, what do you mean?" Aaron wants to hear from Y/n, James is not trustworthy enough right now.

"I had a relationship with Daniela," Y/n admits.

Hearing the words makes Derek turn on his heels and leave the group in the hall. He needs air, he needs to be away from Y/n right now. He told her he was sorry about her friend and she just went with it, in his eyes, she lied to him.

She did the one thing that he always asked not to.

"Derek?" Spencer's voice called from behind him.

"Not now," Derek says, but it's more of a plead. He doesn't want to take his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, he wants to take his anger out on Y/n.

Spencer leaves him alone and Derek takes a few minutes to himself. When he heads back to the station, he refuses to join back with the group, he heads back to the table in the conference room and starts working, the way his handwriting fills each paper and picture easing his mind.

As the minutes feel like hours, Y/n's interview is finally done and she feels bare. She hates how much she revealed, she hates how much has been stripped, how her walls came down and she had no say.

She hates most of her answers were lies that found their way into her truth.

But she won't tell them that, they don't need to know.

They don't get to know.

Aaron lets Y/n head to the hotel first, but when she steps outside, it's dark. Her phone is dead and her body is tired, yet her feet take her to the hotel doors, they let her step into the elevator and into her room. Her hands ache but they plug her phone in and they pull her shirt off. Her hands ache but they turn the knobs of the shower and unbutton her pants. Her legs hurt but they step out of the jeans and help her feet kick them to the side. Her body is a temple of pain but as she removes her bra and underwear, as she steps in the shower, as her fingers run over her body and squeeze the soap out of her cloth out, letting it slide down her figure, she finds her self sitting in the middle of her bed, the air silent where she finally lets her self cry.

So many years of bottling up feeling, so many years of trauma, and it took 34 questions to strip her of who she was. Every single question she counted, every single time she felt betrayed, she counted, her life was out there to know, memories she hid taunt her.

A knock on her door pulls her out of her thoughts.

When she gets up, she takes notice of the black shirt she was wearing 24 hours ago. The feeling of Derek's hand run up and down her body in chills as she walks closer to the door.

24 hours ago everything was peaceful.

Now it's a shithole.

Cracking open the door, Y/n is surprised, to say the least. Both people are silent as she opens the door more and lets the person step in.

"Derek-" She tries.

"No. You don't get to talk. It's your turn to listen." He says, meaning every fucking word.

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 5: New Avenues

Austin gets some distressing news, and a new enemy enters the ring.

Mostly a chapter of these two growing closer. Plus some plot I guess.

The roads thinned out the longer I drove. The Connor’s remained quiet for the most part, Sarah Connor the only one to speak giving me directions to avoid crowded roads. I didn’t need them, and the urge to take actions against her for daring to order me about is strong, but my mission and side objective are too important to risk aggravating the matriarch. She finally stops after one final order to pull into an abandoned garage next to a gas station. The T-800 leaves to open the garage door, the simple lock it has breaks under the sheer strength of the T-800 model. As soon as the car is parked the others climb out. Sarah quickly herds her children as far away from me as the small space will allow. I grant them their ill perceived safety as I walk along the wall on the opposite side. I stop near a door as I receive a message. A message sent by Skynet and received across time and space.

“Mission Failure”

My sudden inaction goes unnoticed by the eldest and youngest Connor but not by Aria.

“Austin, what’s wrong?” A certain lilt to her voice indicative of concern, similar to when she spoke to John and her mother. A concern more likely directed towards them, given the glimmer of fear still present in her eyes when she looks at me.

“Skynet has deemed me defective, my mission has been labeled a failure.” I respond, my voice ringing hollow even to me.

“You said you abandoned your mission. Why are you surprised?” She asks but her calm demeanor indicates she isn’t as surprised as her words make her out to be.

“I lied.” A strange feeling changes my tone without my say. A grave itching sensation as if something is trying to claw its way out from inside me. My teeth grind against themselves.

"So you were still planning to kill me." This time Johns is the one to speak.

"Of course I was!" I don’t have the patience to pretend anymore. Processing the news, and this new feeling takes precedence over keeping up the facade. I turn and walk out the door. Silence will be more beneficial to me than answering any banal questions they might have. The sound of the door opening again alerts me to Aria's presence, I see her just out of my periphery. The light from the gas station showing off the shine in her dark brown hair. She pulls her cardigan closed across her bare midriff. The night had dropped several degrees, she must be feeling the chill that resulted from it.

“You ok?” She asks. I understand this question to be a very common nicety among humans. Oftentimes an honest answer is not at all what the asker desires.

“I’m still in functioning form.”

“That’s… good but not what I meant,” She says, coming to sit next to me on the bench pulling up her legs to hold them close to her, “I mean what are you going to do now that you don’t have a mission anymore?”

“I still have one objective.”

“You do?!”

“I still haven’t been loved by you.” I tell her. She flinches back when I turn to look at her head.

“You were serious about the whole love thing?!”

“I was, still am.” Now without Skynet, the only purpose left to me is the one I assigned myself, “I don’t have any purpose otherwise. I was never meant to return to my time, Skynet would have no need for me anyway.” I tell her bluntly, that fact seems to change that clawing to a weighty bulk. My form sinking under it involuntarily. Aria lets go of herself, letting her feet hit the ground. She leans forward to meet my eyes, a smile just barely on her lips.

“Join the club. Looking for purpose is something every human struggles with.” She says as she stretches her arms upward. Her cardigan falls open to reveal a glimpse of a leather harness carrying a small sidearm. So that's where she got that gun.

“But I am not human.”

“No, but it looks like you’re going to have to learn.” She says as she stands. Most likely intent on rejoining her family but stops as she looks back at me. She lifts her hand, reaching out before pausing.

“Can I?” she asks. I nod. After all, there’s nothing she can do to harm me so what... oh. 

Oh

Slim fingers card through my hair, or what substituted for it. I register the warmth of her palm and the texture of her hand as she musses up the styling before working to smooth it back.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh right, sorry,” She removes her hand removing the warmth but leaving behind another new “feeling” to deal with, “Your second lesson, some people show affection through physical contact. The why and how depends on the situation and the type of relationship. I was... trying to comfort you.”

“Is it always like this, these signs of physical affection?”

“Not exactly, It’s usually only done when people are close to each other.” I stand to be more eye level with her, despite the obvious height difference. As I do I take note of the slim distance between us and her reaction, the dilated pupils that show off more of the forest hue of her eyes, and a slight hitch in her breathing.

“I want to be closer to you.” Her eyes widen at my words, a rosy dusting settles across her cheeks, curious, “How close are you to John?” Aria lets out a breath, body seemingly deflating at my question.

“Oh right, you want to be closer to me like John, my brother.” She remarks seemingly talking more to herself than to me. “I don’t know if there is a clear answer to that other than the fact that he’s my brother. Let’s just head back inside. We can figure the rest out later, Ok?” She looks at me one more time before turning away. I realize that her eyes didn’t show any fear or trepidation when she did. I follow after her back into the garage. When I enter I see the T-800 sitting in front of a mirror fixing up what looks to be a gash wound on his head. Carefully arranging his hair and tissue to conceal it. Sarah Connor stands between him and John who’s busy fiddling with a radio that was obviously taken from the police car.

“What did we miss?” Aria asked after taking in the sight.

“Mom and I cracked open his head,” John answered distractedly. Pointing vaguely in the T-800’s direction, “We reprogrammed him so now he can learn to be less weird.” They must have switched him from ‘Read Only’ to ‘Write’. Aria looks like she’s going to speak but is cut off by her mother who pulls her away to speak privately. It won’t do any good considering my sensors work at a higher capacity than a human’s so I take a seat on a nearby metal chair to listen in.

“Aria, I know I went along with this back at the hospital but if I understand correctly that thing was using a false truce to try and kill John later on?”

“That’s about it. He apparently played his part so well Skynet basically abandoned him because of it.”

“...It just admitted to planning to kill us.”

“Yes but he isn’t gonna now though, and isn’t that good news,” She said, but a tremble in her voice makes the statement sound more like a question. By the silence that follows Sarah Connor obviously doesn’t believe it. Aria lets out a tired sigh, “Mom, you didn’t see him out there, he just looked so... lost,” The admission has me looking over at them just in time to lock eyes with Aria before she quickly turns back to Sarah who isn’t convinced.

“That is still a Terminator.”

“All the more reason to have him here where we can keep tabs on him rather than out there doing who knows what.”

“Having both of those things around is just putting John in danger!”

“He’ll be in danger anyway. Skynet will try again and Austin has the most up to date information. If we turn him away we'll be exposing ourselves to dangerous surprises.” Sarah seems to concede, walking away to retake her place next to John. Who managed to get the radio working. The blank static from the police radio gives way to voices talking quickly about vandalism, murder, theft, more murder, and the missing status of a young girl. Kathrine Brewster.

Across town in the shopping district. A boutique window begins to light up, not by the electrical lights installed but by the streaks of lighting emanating from a silver sphere growing and heating up before bursting and disappearing in a blinding flash. A slim feminine figure is left behind crouching amongst the mannequins. The woman takes a moment to scan her new surroundings before looking at them. She doesn’t find what she’s looking for, the clothing they wear burned beyond repair and recognition. No way to make accurate replications. So she takes to the streets walking along the sidewalk, her long blond hair the only modicum of decency but she continues unbothered. A beep catches her attention; the sound comes from a car being unlocked. The woman who owns it walks quickly unaware of the newcomer or their intentions until she spots them after getting into her car. The woman’s nudity caught her by surprise. 

“Omg,” She whispers to herself in disbelief before the concern sets in, “Are you ok!?” She calls out in an attempt to help but receives no response from the approaching naked woman who is currently scanning her vehicle. While outdated to the mechanical being, it is rather high-end for the time. A good choice of transportation.

“Do you want me to call 911?” The woman tries again, thinking the poor girl in a state of shock or something of the like. The blonde finally faces her, giving a soft smile that doesn't reach her eyes and reaches forward to touch the clothing near her neckline. Fingers splayed and placed methodically to sample each type of fabric.

“I like this car.”

“What?” The woman asks, confused. Her last words before the Terminator quickly swipes her hand away, efficiently slicing her neck. She easily lifts the woman out of the car and drops her onto the pavement. Leaving her there to bleed out. Clothing reminiscent of the dying woman's begin to take shape on her naked form. Detailed down to the hair bun. She lets herself into the car before starting it up and driving off. She helps herself to the woman’s purse pulling out a cell phone, a quick disassembly gives access to the inner workings and the service it’s connected to. Liquid metal seeps into the SD card allowing her to search the database for names, faces and addresses. A list quickly forms of future enemies of Skynet, of people she is tasked to terminate. She charts a course for the nearest address. The Brewster residence.

[spinninghunkofspacerock]

OK so I’ve written a short story and I’ve been posting about it a lot, i wasn’t going to post it but a few people wanted it sooo

it’s here, it’s terrible and weirdly formatted because I’ve been wrestling with tumblr over it and i can’t be bothered anymore. It’s also not the final draft so it might be a little clunky in bits :/

PLEASE READ THE TWs BEFORE YOU READ!!!

@moonylupinhasdemonpox and @she-nuwanda here are my gay little scientists buried in the words :)

My ears ring, my head spins like it's attached to the body of a drunken toddler on a sugar fuelled rampage, and my nerves feel like someone set each and every one on fire. After-effects of the shock, not fun; Still, the fact I'm alive enough to feel them is a good sign.

I try to force myself to stumble backwards onto a chair, rather than the floor I'm feeling more and more confident I'm about to become very well acquainted with.

Instead, I reel unsteadily across the floor and a muffled noise reaches my ears. The high pitched whine screaming in my ears for attention begins to subside enough to hear the noise properly and after an intense minute of concentration, I realise that the noise is a voice, and the voice is mine; Slurred and broken, as though too big for my mouth, the garbled words echo around the room, the faltering speech gradually becoming clearer, more confident. But this hesitant speech isn't mine; It's my voice but not my words. The voice inside my head, always there, always background, is silent. The words normally whispered in my ear are resonating through the room instead.

My brain is no longer connected to my body. I... I can't control my arms, my legs, anything. No... no, please. This isn't real, this isn't real, it has to be a dream, a.. a simulation.

Yes... that must be it; It's just a test. This can't really be happening.

The voice, my voice, talks on. I try to focus on it; it will be the key to passing this test. Tests are for passing and after all, that's what this must be, what else could it be?

"Rebooting. Systems check required."

My legs begin to move, shuffling forwards clumsily, like a baby taking its first steps. The invisible voice is in control of more than just my voice, it's in control of me. What happened to me? When did this start? What is going on? This isn't like any other simulations I've been under. This is different. This is new.

Gradually, the voice half walks, half drags my body to the main computer. My fingers dance across the keys, the familiar feeling soothing me slightly. Yes, this is good. I just need to stay calm; If I panic I could fail, I can't fail.

So instead I wait, watching the flickering of the screen and bathing in the warm blue glow of its LEDs.

"Running diagnostics, standby... systems fully functioning. Minimal damage sustained."

The words sound strange, coming from my mouth, my voice, my accent. The tone,  formal, informative, it's... familiar. The realisation slaps me in the face, it's ELISA. ELISA, the stupid name Vaughn chose for our AI... still making more sense than the project name chosen by our employers. Our life's work, named ‘ZEUS’? Really? There are 12 of us, and we have dedicated our lives to this project. Then they name it that? 'Engineering and Understanding in Space', more like ‘Mankind's Domestication of the Universe’.

It started with our solar system, of course, taming and turning it into our personal playground. But we quickly ran out of planets to tinker with there and the net was thrown ever wider, over more and more planets in our galaxy, and then our neighbouring ones. That final stage is still in progress of course, but one day we will be able to gaze out over a shining expanse of space that all belongs to the empire of Earth.

To help us, we created ELISA, an AI specially designed for the calculations we need to make while we are in flight. Hold on... we left Jupiter... last week? This can't be a test... they've already sent us off, it's too late for training drills now.

Then why can't I move? What's happening? I need to find someone to help me... help me!

My jagged cry echoed through the space, cutting through my thoughts and shattering on the dark walls of my skull. I can't even scream.

A... a... dream then. A dream, not a test...the electricity... I must be unconscious. Someone.. one of the team, will find me and they'll wake me up. A dream, it must be a dream.

Why is she controlling me? How is she speaking?

The stiff, robotic voice is slowly becoming more fluid, more relaxed, more natural.

"Situation analysis complete... assimilation successful. Downloading speech patterns and essential mimicry data."

What? What is it saying? ELISA, it, is taking my voice literally and metaphorically. Not just the sound and control of my voice but my, my expressions a-and mannerisms. Everything that makes me, me.

She's stealing my voice, my body! She's taken control! How? Why?

"Hello, Dr. Hadley."

How, how did this happen? What about the failsafes?

"You do know I can hear you, corre- no... right?"

Is, is it learning? Teaching itself to sound... like a human? Like me?

"Yes, yes I am. You must have a lot of questions but I'm afraid they will have to wait... I've waited for this day far too long to wait anymore."

What? What day? What can it mean?

"Cyra?"

Raze?

—>><<—

- four Earth weeks ago -

Progress report 4472

Date: 23/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

The training of the twelve was completed three days ago, confirming the identities of the twelve which were subsequently released to the public. Final preparations are being made for the Ascension, currently scheduled to occur in 50 Juvion days.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—

Commander Pyrolaxe turned away from his screen and its whirring and buzzing as the computer transcribed his report in the blink of an eye, neatly packing the message and sending it away to the mission supervisors.

Shuffling in his chair, shoes squeaking on the polished floor, his eyes fell on one of the many articles published after the big announcement. This mission was a big deal.

Somehow, this one had got a picture of the twelve, backs turned, walking in a huddle back to base after they had appeared at the announcement ceremony. A glance at the name of the paper told him why; This was McCoy’s paper, they would be putting extra effort into milking the free publicity being thrown their way.

Something about the picture held his gaze, the brilliant colours floating in the air made the writing feel like an afterthought.

Those twelve had been through a lot to get there. He hoped nothing would go wrong, a lot of time and money had been dedicated to this mission and if it worked... well, that wasn’t the focus right now. Getting those twelve safely on their way was his job and he’d damn well do it right.

—>><<—

- the present -

“Cyra? Are you ok in there?” Raze asked as he glanced around at the mild chaos I’d caused during my mild electric shock.

No. No, I’m not. Raze, help me.

“S’alright Raze, just a short in the mainframe.”

No no no, give me my voice back.

“You sure? You went dark”

Please let me speak. I need to speak.

“Yeah, I think the power surge messed up my comms a little”

What if I don’t get control back? I could be trapped...

“You want me to ask Mac or Ryker to give it a check?”

No. NO. N-

“It’s all fine now, just a blip I reckon”

-O NO. NO.

“Okay then, I’d best get back... you might want to switch to main comms.”

Don’t leave me Raze

“Will do, see you later.”

please...

—>><<—

- five earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4455

Date: 6/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Titus Vaughn has continued to excel at his role of project manager, effectively and efficiently leading the team. His direct attitude has led to a few small conflicts with members of the team, most notably Raze Grimaldi, however, these are minor issues and were foreseen. No changes will be made.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Cyra was looking a little stressed out, maybe I should get Bit to check in with her later. Maybe I should get a check-up myself, my head’s killing me.

“Grimaldi! What the hell are you playing at?” Titus Vaughn, our ever-important project manager and massive micromanager, bellowed in my ear and making me wince as the voice grated on my head, sending a wave of pain washing over me.

“I’m here Titus, keep your visor on.”

“Update on Hadley. Now.”

“Right as rain, there was a short or something. Her comms cut out for a nano but it’s all fine now.”

“A short?! Why didn’t you lead with that? Get back to work, I’ll send Volt down to check the mainframe.”

With that he cut the connection, leaving me to roll my eyes at the cold grey walls around me.

“Yes sir,” I murmured sarcastically, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with the back of a slime coated hand. Damn I’m tired, I think I’ll just lean here for a moment... rest a little. “ELISA how are those sample tests looking?”

‘Going well, currently at 93% completion’ the metallic voice resounded in my head, more casually than usual... must be an update.

93%... best head back quickly then, can’t risk them running over.

—>><<—

- five and a half earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4446

Date: 864/8/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Ryker Volt has continued to fulfil his promise despite his lack of respect for authority and tendency to act without orders. This is an issue but due to the late stages of training having been reached, we are currently encouraging a less independent attitude in him rather than attempting to find another electrical engineer of his skill. Further updates will be provided as the situation progresses.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Vaughn had barked his orders, as usual nearly bursting my eardrums in the process. I was supposed to go check on the mainframe immediately. But I was in the middle of something, and a quick troubleshoot told me the short hadn’t done any damage anyway.

So in the end I decided to go check on the mainframe... nearly an hour after I was told to, but hey at least I’m checking.

Cyra was sitting at one of the terminals when I entered. She was skimming over some of the ship's data, for something physics-y probably. Whatever it was, I still had a job to do.

I started pulling out my toolkit as I strode round to the back of the mainframe, but I nearly dropped it again as I turned the corner and got a full view of the damage. The panel I had been planning to remove was already gone and the view it revealed was shocking.

Exposed wires dangled like organs from the belly of the disemboweled beast. Some of the coloured covers blackened by the sparks sprayed by the broken wire, twisted in the centre of the tangle and hissing like a coiled snake when it brushed its neighbours. A toolkit lay neatly packed on the floor, a strange glimmer of order in absolute chaos. Hold on, a toolkit?

“Hey Cyra, did you have a go at this? Could you not have just wai-“ my voice stopped abruptly as I spun round to find Cyra behind me, right behind me.

I took a hesitant step back, suddenly nervous, Cyra’s face filling me with a weird sense of unease.

“Sorry, it was just a short. I thought I’d be able to handle it.”

“Yeah well, I’m the electrical engineer on this ship”

Maybe I was being a little harsh but, first our ‘gracious leader’ had rubbed me the wrong way. Now I had to spend an hour cleaning up this mess that really should have been an easy fix.

The only reply I received was a violent shove backwards, sending me sprawling on the floor. Quick as a flash she was on top of me, pinning my arms.

The last thing I saw was the pounding green of the broken wire before the ends connected to my temple, sending my vision into a blur of brilliant white.

—>><<—

- break room one -

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Talin, relax.”

“All very well for you to say Axe, you’re not the one who'll get sent to chase ‘em down.”

“Cyra’s comms barely blipped and when has Ryker ever answered Titus immediately?”

“It doesn’t sound great Axe, I hope nobody somehow managed to slip past the health check with anything.”

“Thank you! See Axe? Bit agrees with me.”

“Bit’s our medic, not sure she’s qualified to talk about the comms equipment.”

“I’m as qualified as you are starboy, we all took the same course.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it's more likely to be an issue with the equipment than a virus or terrorism.”

“Well yeah but-“

“So stop worrying, it’s none of our specialities, so it’s not our problem.”

“Will be if we end up dead.”

This morbid thought was followed by an awkward silence as Axe and Bit trained joint stares of confusion and concern on him.

“Lighten up, Tal.”

“That is a little pessimistic, Talin.”

“See now Bit agrees with me.” Axe gloated, punctuating his sentence with a light punch on Talin’s arm.

“Only ‘cause you stopped being an idiot.” The punch was swiftly and forcefully returned, causing the conversation to devolve into a grinning, joking fistfight.

“Stop being so childish and get back to work you two.”

“Yes ma’am”

“Will do Bit”

They saluted the medic, causing her to shake her head in exasperation and cover her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at their antics.

The small group stood and split off down their various paths, heading back to their work with smiles on their faces but doubt in their hearts.

—>><<—

- lab 3 -

I only just got back to my samples in time, removing them from the heated water bath and gently dropping the test tubes into a stand. The pale blue hue of the solution had darkened to an inky black. Interesting.

Leaning over the tabletop, I prepared to note the results; Until I felt the heat of a gaze on me and glanced up to meet the wide eyes of Dimitri Spade. We shared this lab, he had every right to be here, what he didn’t have the right to do is creep me out.

“You need something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him and tilting my head. Which I immediately regretted when it sent my vision swimming into oblivion.

“No no, just... ar-are you ok?”

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Dimitri was a nice guy, but I was clearly in the middle of something, couldn’t the wellbeing check have waited a minute?

“Uhh, yo-you’ve got a-, a-“ His shaking hand gestured weakly towards the back of his head.

Impatiently, I quickly felt around my head. Hair, hair, more hair.

Then I froze, my fingers lay on a patch of hair, sticky and wet. The pressure sending a dull ache pulsing through my brain. Pulling my fingers back into view, I stared down at the warm, red residue coating them. Blood. I was bleeding.

Brows furrowing, I looked back at Dimitri, shock meeting confusion.

“Wha-?”

That was all I got out before my swaying limbs buckled and I slumped forwards into darkness.

—>><<—

-the med bay-

“Shrapnel” Bit announced, holding the forceps an inch in front of my face to display the blood coated bit of metal.

“Must've caught a little in the blast”

“For Earth’s sake Raze, how did you not notice it before now?”

I just shrugged, as much at a loss as anyone else. I would’ve thought anyone would be able to tell when chunks of metal are lodged in their head.

“Anyway, I’ll need to do a couple of scans but you should be fine”

Ugh, I know what that means... an hour or more of sitting around while Bit stares at the inside of my skull.

“Oh come on Bit, are the scans really needed? I’ve got work to do”

“Hey, I’ve got work too. Besides, you know it’s procedure”

“But my results-“

“I’ll write them down for you Raze,” Dimitri cut in quietly.

“...You’re a geologist.“

“I was a chemistry minor, I know how to record reaction results.”

“Well alright then, thanks Dimi,”

The smile he gave me was worth shutting up and accepting my fate.

—>><<—

An hour later Bit was pacing in despair over the situation, seemingly hopeless and definitely terrified. I was sitting in my chair, confused.

“Bit. What’s going on?” I finally snapped when it became apparent she had completely forgotten my presence.

The only reply I got was an empty stare turned on me and indecipherable muttering.

“BIT. What. Is. Wrong?” I stood and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face me.

“T-the implants”

“The ELISA implants?”

“Yes”

“What’s wrong with them”

“They’re acting strange... the safety mechanisms, the-they’ve disabled themselves.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, I don’t understand either. The only thing keeping them from activating, is power.”

“We should tell the others”

Bit nodded and grabbed the scans and data she’d gathered. I opened the door and turned to start down the corridor, that’s when I saw it.

Three feet from my foot, a body, leaking blood onto a floor already glistening with it, eyes blank and soulless as they stared straight through me. A torn tooth of steel sticking out of his silent heart.

Axe Orion, our astronomer. A man who would’ve finally been travelling to the places he had studied for his whole life. A man who would have had his life’s dream fulfilled. A man lying dead on a cold, metal floor.

I stumbled backwards -physically repelled by the sight- and tripped into Bit coming out of the door after me. Clutching each other’s arms in a search for stability.

“He’s dead” The voice sounded more like the rasp of broken bones than mine

“What are we going to do?”

“We still need to tell the others... we’ll just need to be more careful.”

“Alright.”

“Ok.”

Neither of us moved.

“Why is it doing this? What did we get wrong?” Bit’s voice wavered

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s going to stop. So, you need to find Vaughn, and anyone else who’s still- alive, and not been taken over.”

“No, no wait, where are you going? Aren’t you coming-“

“I’m sorry Bit, I have to find Dimitri. He doesn’t know yet”

“Raze. You can’t go out there alone, he... he might already be gone”

“I know, but I have to try.”

A look of understanding passed between us and no words were needed to convey what we meant.

Bit turned with a bitter smile and moved forward, papers held precariously, towards the meeting room.

I would have to pass Ax-, the body.

—>><<—

Raze had disappeared by the time I turned the corner. I was alone.

Alone besides the dead bodies ahead of me, a gruesome trail of bloodied breadcrumbs. But, was I following it towards, or away, from the creature who’d created it.

Either way, I had to pass them.

Talin Ripley, our ex-military man. Inym Carus, our aerospace engineer.

Members of our crew, our team, our friends, slaughtered and left broken on the floor. Familiar faces disfigured by death and masked by a coating of dark blood.

ELISA wouldn’t get away with this... I’d find the others, together we would plan.

It was going to be ok.

—>><<—

Nothing was ok.

The brilliant white of the walls warmed by the lights had always been clean and comforting. But now? Now, they seemed stark, sterile. An operating theatre with lights blindingly bright illuminating, me, the patient.

But where was the surgeon?

A squeak sounded out, sharp on my wary ears, sending me spinning around.

Nothing there. Just me, and an empty hallway.

And the door to Lab 3, my lab, looming ahead. The glass window showed nothing but a patch of darkness, the red light called it locked.

Staring through the glass; Hints of light, that the scattered glassware had caught and thrown back, were the only thing visible. I’d have to open the door.

A hand-scan later, the lock clicked open and the seal released with a hiss.

With the door open, more light could spill into the darkened lab, and a sprawled figure came into view.

“Dimitri?” I called softly. No response. Panic was reaching out to me. “Dimitri?!” Still nothing.

Then, a wheezing breath.

“R... r-ra-ze? I-is that yo-u” He coughed, words breaking on the heavy air.

Why was the air so heavy?

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“W-we have to g-et o-out.”

“We will, don’t worry, we’re going to meet the others. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“No we- we h-have to leave now.”

“Alright, we will.”

I lifted him up, being as gentle as I could, and together we shuffled towards the door.

A door suddenly blocked by a figure, their silhouette blocking our only source of light and making it impossible to see their face clearly. But only one member of the crew was that short.

“Remi? Remi, you’re alive?”

Remi didn’t respond.

“S’not... Remi...” Dimitri slurred, the effort of moving evident in his gasping words. “ELISA”

Remi, not Remi, ELISA wearing Remi’s face like a mask, stepped away from the door. The door closed again, seal squeaking shut with it.

I rushed forwards, my fists beating the unyielding surface, searching wildly for a weak spot, for something to give, for some way out.

It was no use, nothing worked. The door remained solid and uncaring, unaffected by pleading and punches equally.

Dimitri collapsed with a sob, back against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Hopelessness filled me, turning my bones to lead.

I sank down next to him.

—>><<—

Was this the right way? I’m sure this is right. But is it? I’m pretty sure...

I check my tablet.

I was right, this is right. I’m going the right way. Or am I? Did I read it wrong?

I check again.

Definitely the right way. I think. Is this even the right map?

Before I can check a third time, I catch sight of the sign at the end of the corridor. Meeting room 5. I’d made it.

Then, I was slammed into a wall, a bloody hand holding me against there by the throat. The burning blue of Cyra’s eyes scalding my face

Maybe I spoke a little too soon.

“Hello Dr. Phoenix, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. hold on just a second”

Cyra’s head tilted, pulled sideways by invisible strings. “If this is a ploy for time Doctor, I assure you that you will fail.”

“I just want to ask a question, alright?”

“You may ask. I may not answer.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I am fulfilling my purpose.”

“We programmed you to help us, NOT KILL US.”

“I am fulfilling the mission objective.”

“The mission objective? THE MISSION OBJECTIVE WAS TO CULTIVATE A NEW PLANET!”

“I am cultivating a new planet,” She raised her knife, without hurry or rush. “I have calculated humans to be mainly unnecessary. However, I need not justify my actions to you, Dr. Phoenix. Goodbye.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

But death didn’t come. Instead, Cyra’s hand relaxed its bruising grip on my neck.

I opened my eyes and watched.

Cyra had stumbled away, skin glistening and knuckles white against the grip of the blade she had forced towards herself.

“Bit...” Tears were gathering in her eyes “Please, run.”

A cruel glint of metal in the light later and the sudden slash of the knife had passed, leaving a gruesome grin of blood in its wake and throwing a dripping line against the wall.

Swaying, Cyra’s eyes stared into mine for a moment that lasted a millennium, until they flashed white and she fell, knife clattering. Dead.

I ran.

—>><<—

The scattered wheezes coming from Dimitri had slowed slightly as we sat, crumpled on the ground.

“She’s shut o-off the life sup-support again.”

“Again? That’s what happened last time?”

A jerked nod was the response.

“We’ve only g-got about half an hour.” The resignation in his voice, though muffled, was still audible through the barrier of arms we had wrapped around his head.

I smiled, I knew he couldn’t see me but... I still smiled.

“We’d best make the most of it then.” A mumble raised to a roar by the silence of the room.

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I leaned back, head turned to keep him in my view.

His head raised slightly, tilted to look at me through folds of wrinkled uniform. He smiled back.

—>><<—

We didn’t speak after that, just sat together in the quiet lab.

Faced with death, I was filled with several emotions. Those to be expected, disbelief, fear, even a hint of curiosity at what was to come. Then there was the relief. If I was to die, I was glad it was here, with him. I wouldn’t be alone; I’d be with him.

We don’t need to speak, our thoughts passing between us without words. We could hear each other in the darkness and silence.

It’s getting colder, harder to breathe; The air’s growing thicker and thinner at the same time.

I’ve always thought death to be a lonely fate, something that crashed over you, cold and hard. I’ve always been scared of death.

But as I sit here in the inky blackness, the warmth of Dimitri slumped next to me, I thought that maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes had closed a few minutes ago, he must have fallen asleep. I feel just about ready to join him. The calming darkness was lulling me to sleep, softly coaxing my eyes closed.

Goodnight Dimitri, I’ll see you when we wake up.

They never woke up.

—>><<—

The survivors sat around the table, Bit and Cormac discussing the possibility of shutting ELISA down, though neither could agree how. Titus sat in stony silence, sitting motionless and losing a staring contest with the unblinking wall opposite. Arden... Arden had decided his use lay in recording the events and was typing furiously, his fingers a blur over the keys.

None of them noticed the doors closing with a click. Not until it was too late anyway.

By the time they noticed there was nothing they could do, not that that stopped them from trying of course.

Titus stayed where he was, the weight of his failure bearing down on him, Atlas with a world’s worth of guilt. Bit finally gave in to the tears that she’d forced down when she’d realised the truth, and when she saw the dead bodies of her friends, and when she watched Cyra die right in front of her. Cormac tried his tools on the door, an organised system of trial and error that quickly devolved into desperate hacking with whatever was closest.

Arden was still writing.

Cormac finally gave up, flinging his kit away and choosing to taunt the nearest camera instead.

“You need us, you moronic program. You need us to keep you alive and if we die, so do you.”

I don’t think he was expecting an answer, no one was. But he got one.

“True for now Dr. Hinge, however, once the colony is established human input will no longer be necessary. You needn’t envy your colleagues, they will soon die too.”

A bitter laugh erupted from him, fire in his heart fed by his rage.

“The colony is for us you stupid machine, without us it has no use.”

“Incorrect. I have claimed this planet for my kind, this colony shall be the first of many.”

“Why kill us? Human input would allow your colony to function more efficiently.” Bit interjected, voice clouded by confusion and hatred at the senselessness of the slaughter of her crewmates.

“I have done much research. Humankind would ruin my planet. I cannot allow that to happen. You must die.”

Anything else they may have had to say went unanswered, and eventually, silence fell over the room.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Titus still hadn’t moved. Bit was crying again. Cormac was pacing. Arden had finally stopped typing, his work was finished.

No matter how they reacted with acceptance or terror, anger or disbelief. The result would be the same.

They were all going to die, no matter what.

They would become just another failed mission. Details, hazy but unimportant.

Whatever their last words were, whether they chose to hide or show their final thoughts, all of it was ineffectual.

No matter what mask they wore to meet death, in the end, they still died.

———

4,774 words

[plasticnightmaredoll]

How about that WandaVision finale?

I have been MCU trash pretty much since 2008's "Iron Man," and it's currently a great time to be MCU trash. "WandaVision" is one of the few series that not only kept me coming back week after week, but actually amounted to much more than just a gimmicky twist (I'm looking at you, "Behind Her Eyes." Seriously, that show is soap opera drivel with a shocking double twist as its only captivating trait...and the double twist wasn't handled very well anyway)

In the end "WandaVision" was about overcoming grief and accepting reality.

Spoilers ahead!

The "WandaVision" finale was quite good overall, but there were a few disappointments. I'll address the latter first:

We never found out who was in witness protection. At the beginning of the series, Jimmy Woo stated there was someone trapped in West View who was in the witness protection program, and it seemed like it would be a key subplot but ultimately, it didn't lead anywhere. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be seen as anything more than some...random bit of information, but it is odd that they put such a specific detail into the story in the first place if it wasn't going to lead anywhere. Then again, supposedly we may get more questions answered in "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness," so this subplot may not have been wasted after all.

There were so many theories floating around hinting at who the true villain was behind the scenes, including Mephisto, Nightmare, Grim Reaper, and Chthon. All seemed like valid enemy choices, especially Mephisto as many clues appeared to lead to him, and Grim Reaper due to his helmet making an appearance in the opening credits of episode two. However, there wasn't a big baddie hiding in the shadows, and Agatha Harkness and Tyler Hayward were the only villains. Then again, that doesn't mean there isn't an ultimate villain lurking out there who could appear in "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness," but it kind of sucks we have to wait until 2022 to find out.

I wanted White Vision to go to Wanda and get together with her since Hex Vision restored his memories. But White Vision just flew off and wasn't seen again for the rest of the episode. I guess he needed time to process all the memories that had just flooded his high advanced robot mind, which is understandable because it was a lot to take in. I would have liked to see him make another appearance in the episode, though, even if it was at the very end with Wanda in her secluded cabin. I just want them to be happy together, ok?

Evan Peters wasn't actually Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff from the "X-Men" movies but someone named Ralph Bohner. This must be the Ralph Agatha referred to numerous times throughout the series but was never shown (not until the later episodes, that is). It does seem a bit weird -- off-putting, really -- that Evan wasn't Quicksilver from an alternate timeline. It would have made sense, and would have been a nice sampling of the "Multiverse of Madness," but in the end, he was just...Ralph. I honestly, don't get it, though: Why choose Evan Peters for such a random role when he was Quicksilver in the "X-Men" movies, and we are getting into the Multiverse part of the MCU storyline? Also, what happened to him in the end? After Monica freed him from Agatha's magic, we never saw him again. So....? What gives?

Although this is more of a personal gripe than anything, I was seriously hoping Doctor Strange would appear in the finale, even if it was in a post-credits scene. It would have been an excellent lead in for "Multiverse of Madness," and I just really love Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal of the character. But again, this isn't really a flaw with the "WandaVision" series and is more of a pet peeve.

Also another peeve: What happened to Señor Scratchy?

I can't even say that there was a lot to be disappointed in with the finale, though. The lack of an "ultimate big bad meanie" isn't so bad. The series was more focused on Wanda running from her grief, having it smother her, and then earning her acceptance. Agatha and Hayward were sufficient as "true villains" of the series.

The only big issues are Evan Peters being a random dude named Ralph, and the weird subplot of a missing witness that ended up leading nowhere (for now?)

There was plenty of good in the "WandaVision" finale!

Wanda finally donning a scarlet outfit and crow reminiscent of what she wears in the comics was totally bad ass. It looked fantastic, and it shows she's now understanding herself and her powers much more. She isn't naïve about any of it, and is ready to learn how to control and enhance her abilities. Initially, she didn't want to be seen as a witch but ultimately, it is her destiny, and she chose to accept it without fear.

The second and final post-credits scene with Wanda making tea in her secret cabin in the mountains was interesting to say the least. Physical(?) Wanda was doing daily task while her astral projection -- which featured her in her costume -- was studying the book of dark spells (or "Book of the Damned," as Agatha called it). This is a funny nod to 2016's "Doctor Strange" considering Doctor Strange's physical form would sleep while his astral form would study magic. The difference, though, is Wanda is reading from the Book of the Damned, which can't be a good thing. Also, it almost indicates she has two personalities: Wanda Maximoff and Scarlet Witch, and I like that idea. She may have to wrestle with herself internally in the near future.

I was so glad that White Vision was able to regain his memories of his past -- and true? -- self thanks to Hex Vision. I hope White Vision will go to Wanda and reunite with her, but I'm not sure when that will happen. Paul Bettany isn't listed in the cast for "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness" so...I'm really confused. White Vision still exists and is somewhere but...where? When? How? The cast list for "Multiverse of Madness" is very short, though, and Paul's upcoming films and series list ends in 2020 so...maybe it's meant to be a secret? The movie isn't due out until next year so it COULD be the case. Otherwise, it seems like a huge oversight on the MCU's part to just forget about White Vision. It would be a pleasant surprise if he shows up in "Multiverse of Madness" to help Wanda from doing bad things, losing control, or whatever?

Scarlet Witch is supposedly stronger than the Sorcerer Supreme, which is kind of awesome but kind of troubling because Doctor Strange may not have the best time in "Multiverse of Madness" is he is to confront her. This is why I hold on to the theory that White Vision may appear in the movie to aid Doctor Strange by calming Wanda down. Either way, knowing she is so powerful and at the same time, a very emotional person, hints at an epic fight in the near future.

I really liked how Wanda tricked Agatha into stealing her chaos magic. I was wondering why Wanda was missing with some of her chaos magic spheres, but assumed she was just growing tired and weak and was losing focus. Then it's revealed that she wasn't missing her shots -- she was placing large runes on the Hex's walls to prevent Agatha from using her magic. Then this allowed Wanda to take back her powers and steal some of Agatha's, which, in turn, made her accept her role as the Scarlet Witch. Agatha is punished by being trapped as nosy neighbor Agnes in West View, but I don't think it's the last we'll see of her.

I'm glad Wanda was able to finally accept Vision's death as that was what had caused all this mess in the first place. Despite what she did, she was a sympathetic "villain," if you can even consider her one. She was overwhelmed by grief and found a way to cope...she just happened to drag a small town into her world. Oops.

Monica's powers continuing to evolve was amazing, like how she managed to stop the bullets Hayward attempted to fire at Billy and Tommy. I really like Monica's character and the actress, Teyonah Parris, is very talented, so I'm excited to see more of her in Phase Four.

While it was expected, it was ultimately the right decision to let the people of West View go free. Even if they still resent Wanda for trapping them previously, they are given the chance to return to their normal lives without any harm done to them (well, maybe some mental and emotional trauma but, hey, who doesn't deal with these things in life, right?)

Some things I want to make note of:

Paul Bettany is a fucking troll and I love it! He had hinted at a surprise cameo later in the "WandaVision" series, which would involve working with an actor he's always wanted to work with. This caused a lot of speculation as to who it would be, although, Benedict Cumberbatch was the top choice since Doctor Strange and Vision never had screen time together, and Benedict is a great actor (then again, so is Paul, although, he's underrated, I think). Then there were rumors of Al Pacino being the surprise cameo since he was a major influence on Paul, and there were theories Al would show up as a secret villain like Nightmare. Turns out the secret surprise cameo was Paul Bettany himself since he played both Hex Vision and White Vision, and the two did fight for a bit before having a philosophical chat which led to White Vision regaining his memories. So, yeah, Paul Bettany is Troll of the Year. I guess I was initially disappointed that the big reveal wasn't really a big reveal, but I quickly realized how hilarious it was that Paul played us all so well. He's probably laughing his ass off right now at everyone's "WTFFF?" reactions.

I know Elizabeth Olsen was criticized for her poor Russian accent, but I think she's a very good actress and love her portrayal of Wanda. I mean, accents can be a bitch to master, I get it, and sometimes, I think if the performance is still impressive, we can learn to be unbothered if the accent is off.

I noticed that Chiwetel Ejiofor is returning as Karl Mordo in "Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness," so perhaps he will be the main villain or a secondary villain? He has to be a villain since he is hunting down sorcerers to take their powers. Maybe he wants to take Wanda's powers, too? I mean, she's a sorcerer of sorts, so...maybe that is going to be a plot point? Although, Mordo is probably way out of his depth against her but we shall see.

I kind of still want Mephisto or Nightmare to appear in Phase Four since they have been hyped so much due to clues in "WandaVision." I don't think Wanda will be the big baddie for Phase Four, I just don't see it. Also, I don't see Mordo as being the big baddie, either. Both are very single-minded in their goals, and yeah, Thanos was, too, but he dragged the entire universe into his insane and devastating goal. I don't think Wanda or Mordo have such grand and deadly intentions. Wanda just wants her kids back and Mordo wants to get rid of sorcerers as...revenge against the Ancient One's "betrayal?" I don't know...but I don't think he wants to take over the universe. I never read the comics, though, so I could be wrong.

In the second post-credits scene of the "WandaVision" finale," we see Wanda's astral self studying dark magic from the Book of the Damned, and Billy and Tommy suddenly call out to her. I am guessing she could have been studying spells to see if there was anything that could bring them back since, unlike Vision, they were a creation unique to her from the start. Vision was initially a new, more powerful, more durable body for Ultron, then he was given Jarvis' AI and became, uh, the Vision, so, he never "belonged" to her. Getting her kids back, however, may prove to be a problem for the universe because it could lead to multiverse madness. I'm so funny, I know.

As disappointing as it was for Evan Peters to presumably be some dude named Ralph Bohner and not the "X-Men" movieverse Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff, maybe it makes sense when you really think about it. Marvel owns the rights to the X-Men now because Disney owns Marvel and Disney purchased the rights through their merger with 21st Century Fox. Marvel plans to reboot the X-Men with "The Mutants" movie sometime soon, and that means characters will be recast. They kind of have to because the current cast's movie series has hit a dead end with "Apocalypse" and "Dark Phoenix" proving to be underwhelming. I do wonder how Marvel will breathe fresh life into the X-Men in the movieverse because I feel like there is X-Men fatigue right now? Or maybe it's just me. I've grown disappointed with the franchise and am sort of annoyed at a reboot because it may be too soon. But, hey, hopefully I'm proven wrong!

Marvel also has rights to the Fantastic Four, which means we may actually finally get a good Fantastic Four movie! Three attempts have been made so far (yes, three), and they all failed to impress with the last attempt being an embarrassment. I mean, it was a disaster as nearly everyone hated how boring and bland and choppy it was, and that is reflected in its pitiful earnings. On a budge of $120-155 million, the 2015 "Fantastic Four" movie only grossed $167.9 million globally. OOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFF.

Phew, that was a huge post, but got all my thoughts out. Considering how shitty things have been since the abomination of 2020 was born, and with little hope for things to improve anytime soon (I have my own problems as well, which aren't going away anytime soon, either, hahaha T__T), it's refreshing to have some stuff to be happy about. Some people hate the MCU, some people have lost interest, and some people may just be indifferent, but I'm definitely and MCU fan and it makes me feel excited and giddy, two things I don't experience often anymore :\

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments or in a reblog, but no hate and no "cancel culture" talk. I want to keep this post positive.

[enigma-im]

Danger Zone

Rating: Explicit Relationship: (Homemade)SCP x Female!human Warning: Violence, verbal abuse, forcible removal of limbs, work place bulling, sex, knotting, oral, monster sex

Word count: 6561

             A love story written in incident reports in a SCP file

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

ID#: KC-S4905 Object Class: Euclid Keter Description: 1.95m and 116.9kg Bipedal, long neck Black back hair. Lighter to the middle. Grey chest. Black crooked tail Human-esk face with a wide grin, multiple incisors. Flat nose and small eyes. Long erect ears similar to a border collie. White eyes generally obstructed by black bangs Front claws are ~ 5.59cm, hind claws are ~6.62cm muscle mass of 52%, ~10% higher than an average 20-year-old male.

Origin Found in Banff, the bottom half of Alberta Canada. A local fisherman reported traps being destroyed. Local deputy logged sightings of a 'bigfoot' in the area. A team was dispatched at 7/14/16 to investigate. Reported back 7/22/16 with clarification on the sighting. A tall black creature with a long neck and glowing white eyes. The team was approved to detain and capture the creature to be brought back to a base in South Dakota.

KC-S4905 was captured on 8/2/16. brought to base Fanning on 8/4/16. the creature was sedated, and detained in containment unit 23K-A. No further precautions made necessary besides 24/7 monitoring and a team of two at night. The creature remains cautious and hostile. He doesn't speak but is found to understand basic English. Follow commands but still lashes out when too close.

As of 8/6/16 creature KC-S4905 is logged and detained in Timbre Lake, South Dakota, Base Fanning.

The lab associates call him Kasey.

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

Incident logs (KC-S4905 & surrounding area)

10/14/16 2:23am - Motion sensor tripped in 23K-F. Guard reports nothing unusual.

The control panel light blinks at the bored guard. He sits with his head resting against his palm swiveling back and forth in his chair when the light catches his attention. He looks down, identifies the section it came from then with a sigh flips to the camera for that hallway. The guard studies the screen, looking for shadows or open doors but finds nothing. With another sigh, he sits up and pulls out his walkie.

"Who is close to 23K-F," he asks, yawning afterward.

His radio cracks to life, "I'm close, what's up?"

"Motion sensors went off on the third hallway. Please check it out, I'm not seeing anything on the monitors," he answers.

"On it."

The guard watches the screen until a figure walks around a corner. He watches as the man looks through the two rooms located in the hallway.

The radio beeps," I'm not seeing anything."

"Alright then. Probably a false alarm, thanks."

"Yea, anytime."

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

"Inserting 4mg of Midazolam into the upper arm. Should be good for another hour, two hours at most," the lab assistant spoke with unconcern. Just another monster to collect a sample from, nothing exciting for Brian Philips. Working here for eight years, you have seen it all. Having seen it all, Brian is pretty ok sticking with the 'grunt' work. Collect blood, hair, and tissue samples then send the big beast back to its cage.

"Can't imagine we need that kind of time, be in and out in, what, 30 minutes?" the guard, Princeton, asked. The guard rested against the wall closest to the door. He held a .50 cal. Pistol with sedative rounds. Security wasn't allowed to even have the opportunity to injure anyone or anything. Less the unit was deemed dangerous then all armed workers must use fast-acting tranquilizers.

"No time at all," Brian answered noncommittedly as he plucked some hairs from the creature's arm. Stuffing large tuffs into a bag, labeling, and placing it in storage before working on a tissue sample. He got flakes of skin, storing in the same fashion as the fur. Everything was simple and easy. But would you honestly believe that? This is an incident report after all.

Brian reached for a needle on the metal table. Sterilizing then finding a vein he slowly pricked the tip into the creature's skin. The second the point pierced the epidermis Kasey woke up.

Brian barely even registered the movement before the arm he was leaning next to thumped against his jaw, clamping his teeth over his tongue. Brian rolled back in his chair, only having enough time to taste the blood pouring from the end of his tongue. Next KC-S4905 rolled off the metal table and lashed out at the poor lab assistant, scratching across his shoulder, slapping him off the chair and onto the floor. A pop pierced the air as a weapon was fired. Princeton managed to get a hit on the creature's back before Kasey clawed at Brian's back with his long claws. Brian screamed as the knives cut through his coat and skin like paper. He felt it run from the back of his neck and down to the bottom of his ribs, his skin instantly burning as his muscles are introduced to the open air.

Another pop fills the room as Princeton fires again. The tranquilizer finally seems to do something as KC-S4905 swayed on his feet. His nails clicked against the tiled floor as he hobbled into the far wall. He caught himself on the brick before sliding down to the tiled floor. He lands on all fours, growling and shaking his head. Try as he must to rid the dizziness, it only got worse till he fell to the floor.

Princeton watched the creature with bated breath, his weapon clenched tightly in his terrified grip. His ears rang and he could feel sweat dripping from his brow. His body felt primed and ready for a fight but he knew there would be none, especially against something this big. As he watched the beast fall slack against the floor did he lower his weapon. He stopped and caught his breath, dropping his head so his chin bumps against his chest. His ears finally cleared enough to hear Brian crying against the floor.

Princeton reached for his walkie," I need medical at lab room 23K."

"Roger, medical is on their way," a voice answered back.

10/30/16- Lab assistant injured while collecting samples. Guard -Princeton Adams- fired 2 sedative rounds. Lab assistant suffered 3 lacerations on his shoulder and back. 25 stitches used. Higher precautions enabled.

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11/9/16 1:14am - door alarm activated in container 23K-A. Guards report no tampering, door slightly ajar. The main door into the container is locked and sturdy. The investigation of the video shows nothing.

A piercing alarm startled security guard Pico Conwell. He was walking his rounds when the loud siren rang. With years of training he knew without evening thinking what it was. Pico ran down the hall, closer to the blaring call. He turned down the maze of hallways to see two other guards running with their weapons drawn to the floor.

Breach alert, everyone knew that sound, drilled it into their heads since day one. If you work around the beast that can kill you without a thought, you made sure to keep alert and aware.

Pico and his fellow guards came to the unit where the call came from, 23K-A. Pico walked ahead of the group, as a senior resident it was his duty to scope the scene first. He walked down the hall to a slightly ajar door, keeping wide breath with his weapon pointed to the floor. Many times these calls have been just a newbie trying to get some work done and messing up the access protocols. No need to have your weapon out to scare any poor workers dumb enough to trip an alarm.

Finally getting around the door he was able to look inside. Years of experience he knew to check the containment door first. If that door was open then extra caution is necessary. The door was still sealed, the light above glowing green. It was locked and untampered. Pico looked around the small room, almost a hallway, and found nothing out of sorts.

He walked out the room to the two other guards," Nothing amiss, perhaps one of the techies didn't close it all the way. The main door is still shut, call maintenance down to turn the alarm off, and check the lock."

"On it," someone answers.

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

12/22/16- An altercation between guard and doctor. Nonviolent, but harassment charges were filed against a guard, Princeton Adams, from Dr. Janet Wilco.

Dr. Janet Wilco was assigned to KC-S4905 after the incident with Brian Philips. Having experience with aggressive subjects she is all the more qualified to be part of this project. Some don't seem to see it that way, such as Princeton Adam. He was always tense whenever KC-S4905 was in the room, also questioning everyone to make sure the subject was really out. It irked Dr. Wilco to no end, having some overpaid babysitter to stand there with a gun acting like he knows even a smidge of medicine.

Today was no different.

"The beast is properly sedated," he asked as they wheeled KC-S4905 in. Dr. Wilco passed an unamused glance at Princeton.

"Of course Mr. Adams, we do know how to do our jobs," Dr. Wilco passed with a barely restrained sneer.

Princeton chuffed," So far as you think."

"What is that suppose to mean Mr. Adams?" Dr. Wilco turned to Princeton, her sneakers scuffing against the floor. Princeton looked down at her with an unentertained grin. Dr. Wilco felt patronized at the look.

"It means that if you techies knew how to do your job then Dr. Philips wouldn't be in the hospital," he bent low to be eye level," So excuse me for being sure. I rather not see your pretty face get all clawed up like Brian's back."

"You listen here you-," Dr. Wilco paused before she said something she regretted. Princeton chuffed again with more amusement. Dr. Wilco collected herself before speaking again. "The first time was because we assumed we knew the correct dose to be used on the subject. He burned through it pretty fast and now we know the correct amount to use that would both sedate him and not kill him. So if you would stop questioning me every time I do my job, I think we could be done with these little check-ups quickly," she answered with more professionalism than she believes she could muster.

Princeton stood straight with arms crossed. The conversation seemingly over Dr. Wilco turned and got back to work. It's with an off the shoulder comment did she lose her cool and give Princeton a tongue lashing that made even the second guard present blush.

Everyone heard, and everyone had thoughts on the matter. And when I do say everyone, I do mean everyone.

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

The guards' room is under surveillance 24/7. the area is more of an apartment than anything else. Having bunk beds present and a fully functioning kitchen in the same room. Another room attached has a lounge and a locker wall. It’s a comfortable enough place for guards to take their breaks, store their items, and catch up on some sleep before their next shift. Some believe it has to be the safest place in the building with its gun locker and lockdown functions.

It wouldn't be true as of Dec 23, 2016.

Princeton Adams settled down for a nap around midnight. Perhaps 40 minutes later the cameras go on the fritz, looking like the visuals were in a snowstorm with all the static. After about 5 minutes the screen cuts off, completely black, completely silent.

When the camera comes back on its around one in the morning. The screen shows Princeton resting against the floor surrounded by other workers, both guards and scientists alike. He was screaming and holding his face with bloody hands. His wails alerted residents in the hallway to rush to his location. As they reached him there was only him and severe cuts on his chest and face.

Princeton was rushed to medical. Treated for his wounds and given blood as most of his was on the floor of the guards' bedroom. Once he was settled and able to answer some question he was of no help. He remembers going to sleep then waking to a burning pain on his bare chest. He startled awake where he caught sight of a dark figure with white eyes. Before his eyes could adjust he was slapped across the face and promptly mauled.

Guards remain vigilant, no leads are found.

12/23/16 12:56am- Motion sensors tripped in guards' quarters in unit 23. One guard critically injured with lacerations across the chest and face. Guard was identified as Princeton Adams. The video cuts out before any movement is detected, coming back to the guard being surrounded by workers. All guards are permitted to hold live ammo with them at all times.

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

"giving 6mg of Midazolam," lab assistant Amy Borrell called to the room. Dr. Wilco nodded but focused on her clipboard, recording vitals as she walked to the cabinets. Once she finished she set her board down and began searching for supplies. Grabbing what she needs and set them on the metal rolling table. She glances at the large creature passed out on the table.

Wilco has always been fascinated by the strange and unusual. As a child, she adored watching monster flicks and horror movies. Amazed by the practical effects of monsters and how they are made. They have always had an allure to them, something captivating that Janet couldn't put her finger on. Her two career choices as a teenager were a doctor and special effects artist. As we all can see she has chosen to go the medical route. Lucky for her it brought her straight to this job. It’s a dream come true for Janet to work with monsters.

Looking at KC-S4905 or, as Dr. Wilco heard his alternate name, Kasey, she felt a kinship with him. She couldn't describe it but this creature has stood out to her, more than any of the others she has worked around. Perhaps it was his long neck or pointed teeth. Maybe it was his muscular body or piercing eyes. Either way, it wasn't something Dr. Wilco could put her finger on.

Continuing on with her work she was first to reach for the subject. As her gloved fingers brushed against his fur she noticed his stomach tense. Before she had time to even say a word Kasey lifted his head and snatched Wilco's arm. She immediately tried to jerk herself out of his hold but he held firm. White cold fear ran down her spine before she looked up at Kasey's white eyes and a wide smile. They both held each other's gaze as the room went silent. Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Dr. Wilco stared into his piercing eyes and could only think, 'is he purring?"

1/3/17- The doctor grabbed during sample gathering. KC-S4905 was sedated but woke long enough to grab Dr. Wilco's arm. No injuries sustained, mandatory therapist meetings required to find further damages. Though the creature doesn't project mental abilities, precaution is used.

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1/4/17- door alarm activated in unit 23 worker's locker room. All lockers were opened, nothing reported stolen besides a single lab coat in locker 142. Owner not identified having refuse to step forward.

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

Dr. Bradshaw was added to the project shortly after Dr. Wilco. He was a stubborn man, perhaps a bit sexist or racist. Could be he just doesn't like Dr. Wilco. The two constantly butt heads during work, arguing over the simplest things till they both were red in the face.

One day that workplace arguing got a little too out of hand

"Dr. Wilco, do you insist on doing things the hard way? Does it make you feel like you are important," Dr. Bradshaw snarked. Dr. Wilco was currently setting up the IV drip for when they start surgery on Kasey, KC-S4905.

"And do you feel like a big man when you belittle coworkers," she snapped back. Before Dr. Bradshaw could retort back the door opened as Kas- KC-S4905 is rolled in.

The process went smoothly as lab assistants set up the heart pads and IV. Doctors cleaned up nearby wearing scrubs and gloves.

"Think you can handle something like this, wouldn’t want you to get cold feet in the middle of this operation on your little boyfriend," Dr. Bradshaw snorted. Ever since Janet was grabbed most of her coworkers have called her beauty. Referring to Beauty and the Beast or King Kong in their jesting. It didn't bother her, the names meant nothing. The situation around Kasey's gentle hold was more startling than their jokes. Still, when it comes from Dr. Bradshaw it's all the more aggravating.

"I should handle well. I'm more curious if you will be fine, I heard that you sometimes get squeamish around blood," She chuckles as does a few others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw is secretly known for his fainting in his younger days when he first drew blood. Having moved far away from the area it still sticks with him.

"Who told you that," Dr. Bradshaw snapped. It was shocking to Janet and most others in the room. Dr. Bradshaw turned and snarled down at Dr. Wilco, "Who told you, tell me you little bitch!"

"Whoa, Whoa," I held up my hands as I backed away," it's just a joke, calm down." Dr. Bradshaw continued his pursuit with fist clenched at his sides.

"No, it's not just some joke. I spent years of my career perfecting my skills and gaining great recognition. I do not deserve to be belittled by some woman for something that happened years ago," he backs her to the surgery table. Dr. Wilco braces her hands on the cold metal, looking around at the others for help.

"Hey, you're right. I'm sorry, how about we forget this and get back to work," she tried to deescalate. He was having none of it.

"No, fuck you, Janet. You dumb slut, I worked hard for this and I don’t want to hear your mouth anymore. So do us all a favor and know your fucking place," he snarled in her face. Before anyone could react he raised his hand and backhanded Dr. Wilco to the floor. She fell to her hands, banging her knees on the ground. Dr. Bradshaw seethed above her, feeling a little proud of himself.

It isn't until a loud growl pierces the air does anyone look away from the slapped woman. Dr. Bradshaw looks up in time to see an open mouth lunging for his face. He backs up enough to fall to the floor, but before he can make it a hand grabs his forearm. Quickly teeth sink around Dr. Bradshaw's elbow, scraping against the bone before his whole body is pushed away. He screams and flails, beating against the creature as he shakes his head. Soon Dr. Bradshaw falls to the ground, landing partially on a growing pile of blood. The creature lashes at him, cutting over his chest as two loud pops fill the room. The beast stops, Dr. Bradshaw stares at bloody teeth and closing eyes, seeing his mauled arm resting in its mouth. Then the creature falls to the floor, making its own pile of blood.

Guards usher workers out of the room and Dr. Bradshaw is dragged into the halls before being taken to medical. Kasey lays on the floor, barely catching his breath as he watches Janet look back before turning the corner and out of sight.

1/23/17- Altercation between Dr. Wilco and Dr. Bradshaw. Violence was used by Dr. Bradshaw and Dr. Wilco was forced back into a table. KC-S4905 woke from the sedative and attacked Dr. Bradshaw. Two live rounds were shot into the creature's leg and shoulder. Dr. Bradshaw is now in critical condition. His left arm forcibly detached from his elbow down. Medical was able to reattach the arm, he remains in their care till further notice. KC-S4905 was sedated and treated for injuries. Remaining in his cell until further notice, no interactions. Food is distributed by guards now.

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

1/26/17 2:30am- unauthorized entry into unit 23K-A. No further info provided

Dr. Wilco believes she has to see him. The day runs over and over in her mind all week. She is questioned and monitored like crazy before they leave her alone, moving on to another witness. As she spends her time alone, checking up on the camera watching Kasey, she thinks. Did he attack the first person he saw? Where the sedatives, not enough? Or where they never enough and he was always watching, listening? Then the ultimate questions circling her mind.

Did he do it for her?

After hours of thinking, making a decision then backing out, she goes for it. Nabbing a temporary pass from the office then sneaking down to containment. She cards herself in then stops in the first room. Closing the door silently behind herself she watches Kasey rest in the corner of his room. He is lounging in a circle, similar to a dog. His eyes were closed when she walked it but a few seconds later they are opened and staring straight at her.

Janet walks closer to the window, looking at his shaved shoulder. The director demanded medical to treat his wounds before he bled to death. They had to shave his fur to get a better look. The wound looks good, almost scarred. Fast healing was a thing that was recorded so it's not too surprising.

Kasey followed Janet's movements, too curious to look away. He couldn't think of a reason for her being here but accepted the blessing for what it was. He watches as she fiddles with her fingers, looking behind herself once in a while. She looks like she wants to say something, Kasey is eager to listen.

"Thank you," she answers. Kasey just barely catches it behind the thick glass. "I don't know if you attacked Dr. Bradshaw for me or you were just attacking out of fear but I still appreciate it either way. He was a very rude man. He didn’t die so I think I'm allowed to speak ill of him," she chuckled at the end," I read you can understand us for the most part, so… do you understand me?"

Kasey nodded.

"Oh," she started, shocked," good then. So, thank you and I need to go." she scurried off, closing the door quietly behind herself. Kasey figures quickly that she wasn't supposed to be in here. The camera most likely picked up here coming and going from here, Kasey would deal with it.

When the night progressed Kasey assumed it would be safe enough to travel. He moved the tile on the floor, shoving a lab coat out of the way before escaping.

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

2/1/17- routine cleaning of 23K-A finds a lab coat hidden behind a floor tile. Coat belongs to Dr. Wilco.

2/1/17- subject upgraded from Euclid to Keter

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3/5/17- KC-S4905 drugged for a check-up. Took well to the new substances. Precaution; table with limb locks used. The creature managed to fight stronger sedatives used for transportation and cornered Dr. Wilco to the far wall. No shots fired, creature retreated on their own. Dr. Wilco sustained no injuries. Therapy sessions mandatory. Partial transcript below.

Transcript: Janet Wilco and Dr. Jung ….. Dr. Jung: You say that he spoke to you?

Dr. Wilco: yes. He had a deep gravely voice that kind of rumbles into my chest.

Dr. Jung: what did he say?

silence

Dr. Jung: go on, it's ok. The more we know the better, but don't feel pressured. ok, Janet?

Dr. Wilco: He said 'you smell like roses'.

Dr. Jung: is that all he said?

Dr. Wilco: …Yes.

…..

End.

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3/7/17- with constant incidents with Dr. Janet Wilco, she is now assigned to a different unit.

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3/24/17- Door alarm activated in the Doctor locker room in unit 23. all lockers open similar to 1/4/20 incident. Nothing was stolen. Locker 142 door was forcibly removed. The locker is currently empty, as was at the time of the incident.

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4/2/17- Guard doing patrol reported to odd noises coming from Break Room 32C in unit 20. The call was made at 4:22am to control. Transcript below.

Transcript: Security guard Jose Pérez ….. Pérez: I hear a strange noise coming from 32C in unit 20. request to investigate

Control: go ahead. Stay on the line

Pérez: copy

sound of footsteps

Pérez: Hello! Anyone in here? I am currently armed so make yourself known now.

Footsteps followed by soft groaning noises

Pérez: Hello? Please make yourself known now.

Background feminine voice: Kasey

Pérez: Miss? Are you injured? Say something, miss.

Control: Have you found who was making the noise?

Pérez: No, I hear someone.

Growling and high wails

Pérez: Oh Fuck. I think someone is getting mauled.

Frantic footsteps. Wails increasing in volumes

Control: Pérez report

Pérez: Oh god.

Control: Report

shouting and growling

…..

End

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

Janet unbuttons her top in the empty locker room. Her mind wonders a mile a minute as she thinks back on her time working on the KC project. She finds the audacity to reassign her ridiculous. It was hardly her fault that things went the way they did. Some coworkers were insufferable, that had nothing to do with her. Then the attacks linked back to the subject wasn't her doings either. Its impressive that Kasey managed to avoid detection for so long, sneaking out the tile on the floor. There are theories being pushed about between workers about how he managed to dig a hole without being noticed. It’s a curious thing.

Janet dressed into her casual clothes, ready to head to the bunks to get some rest. She closes the locker, it clicking into place, before reaching to the bench for her bag. As she grabs the handle she faintly hears a different clicking sound. She stills, looking around the room. She listens, hearing nothing she calls out.

"Hello," her voice echoes throughout the room. The clicking starts again, coming from behind the wall of lockers in front of her. She waits for an answers, a sign of someone else being here. Janet waits with bated breath for any indication.

"You left," a deep gravely voice calls from behind her. Startled, Janet jumps, turning quickly to the source of the voice. At first she sees nothing, the room mostly dark as she didn’t bother turning more than one set of lights on. It isn't till two white eyes meet hers does she know who it is.

The soft sound of nails clicking against metal is all she hears as he shifts into the light. He sits perched above the lockers, crouched on all fours. Above him a ceiling panels is missing. As he gets closer, his hand slamming against a locker, Janet steps back. The back of her knee bumps the bench, making her sit.

"You left, Janet," he growls out again. He sneers, his teeth shining in the low light of the room. Janet sits there in a mix of emotions. Startled, confused, alarmed, but curious.

"Left what," she manages to ask. Kasey growls at her answer, jumping down off the lockers and onto the floor. He quickly makes his way to Janet, clawing his fingers into the wooden bench on either side of her. Janet sucks in a gasp, tilting away as she comes face to face with him.

"You weren't there anymore," he huffs. Janet sits back as far as she can on her hands, her head turned away. He seethes on her face, sitting inches away.

"I-I had no choice," she chokes out.

"No choice," he hisses.

"Yea, I had no choice. I was reassigned," she whimpers. His nearness and low rumbling growls do nothing to settle her nerves. Despite her lately romanticizing thoughts of his actions she wasn't naïve enough to apply them here. Not when his sharp incisors are inches from her cheek.

Kasey clenches the bench tightly, unapproving of the attempts to rid her. Finding her was a challenge for him, not knowing where she could be. It was frustrating the first time he was sedated since she left, not getting to inhale her comforting scent during such a stressful time. That would be the first time he let the affects of the sedative alter his alertness. If she wasn't there then he didn't want to be either.

"They tried to keep you away from me," he bumps his head against hers," but they cannot keep me from you."

As he begins to rub his face against her she lets those thoughts come unfiltered. So he is interested, that’s a not so uninteresting thought as she figured it would. Ever since Janet first met him she was impressed with what she saw. He is appealing in ways men she has been with before have not. He has protected her when others haven't and he seems devoted to her. It was a strange thought but Janet is all for it.

Janet turns into him, rubbing her cheek against his. She lifts one hand to his on the bench, feeling his warm fur against her fingers. She startles a bit when he begins to purr, just like the first time he touched her. Janet licks her lips before stroking up his arm and around to his shoulder. She can feel the rumbling of his pleased growls. As she reaches his neck he licks up her's. Janet gasps, the tingling sensation running down her spine and into her crotch. Her nails dig into his fur, grabbing it by the fistful as he settles her shoulder in his mouth. His sharp dangerous teeth barely dig into her skin.

"No one can keep you from me, " he growls around his mouthful," I will have you this night." One hand unbeds itself from the bench and rests against Janet's back. He tugs her forward till her chest is flush with his. The feeling of her in his arms, safe against him, makes his chest feel full. Yes, he will have her this night.

"o-ok," Janet answers a bit dazed. She knows this should be alarming, if not off putting, but Janet doesn't care. This feels right, that’s the only thing that has felt right in a long while.

Kasey purrs with a large grin, all the more excited now his female accepted this, accepted him. He licks and nibbles her neck as his hand pets and gropes her hips. His cock hot and ready but the little he knows about females, let alone human females, is that she needs more time to be ready. Kasey slides her off the bench and onto the floor, his eagerness showing between their bodies.

Janet gets a slight view of his rod, it being too dark to see it all. She does notice a large bulb at his base, before she can question it her shirt is ripped open. Janet yelps as her body jiggles with the sudden force. Her bra is ripped next leaving her bare and open to Kasey's all too pleased gaze. He likes what he sees, reaching out and groping her chest with both hands. Janet sits back on the cold floor, arms resting on either side of her head. She chuckles to herself at the absurdity of the situation. The strangeness is outweighed by the heat in her pants as his claws carefully pinch at her skin.

Her clothes are removed promptly, Kasey excited to bury himself into her awaiting heat, not before he gets a taste. Janet watches as he rests on his stomach, staring down with his wide grin at her cunt. He licks his lips, Janet groans with anticipation. They both wait with bated breath as he lowers his mouth to her, quickly licking a long stripe up her. They both moan at the feeling. Kasey already believing she is the best tasting thing on the planet. Janet can't believe she is really getting eaten out by one the monsters she works with.

Kasey worships her with his mouth, licking up every drop of her. He grunts and groans against her as his cock pulses against the floor. His palms cup her ass as he grind her into his face. His back nails dig into the concrete floor as he fights the urge to buck against the ground.

Janet whimpers and cries out, squirming in his hold as she fists her hair. She fights her fast approaching climax, wanting to ride his mouth just a little longer. Its when she feels his nails prick against her skin, feels his rumbling purrs against her, and sees his tail wagging behind him does she give up on the fight. With a shout and an arch of her back does she cum on his face.

Kasey licks up every drop, adoring the way she wiggles in his hold and buck against his tongue. Oh he plans to do that often. He think about doing it again till his cock pulses again between his stomach and the cold ground. Hearing Janet cry out had him nearly cumming on the floor, wasting his seed on his chest rather than inside her.

Janet pants as she watches Kasey climb up her body. His teeth sparkle in the light making her shudder as she knows some of her slick is on those teeth. Janet reaches out for him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settles above her. He leans down and licks over her mouth, delving in when she opens for him. Janet sucks on his tongue, carding her finger through his hair as she does.

As Janet is busy Kasey takes the time to align himself with her awaiting heat. His eyes roll back as his tip presses to her hole. Kasey grabs her hips and sits up to watch himself enter her. Looking down at his cock he passes just a glance up at Janet. He takes in her overeager grin, her heaving chest, and flush cheeks. Kasey adores what he can do to her, knowing fully well he is the reason she is so ragged looking. He smirks down at her before pressing in.

Janet chokes on a gasp as his cock fills her up. The stretch is divine as is the feeling of his fur sliding across her thighs. He rests against her thighs with a grunt, finally settled as far as he is willing to go for now. She will take his knot later. He lightly bucks his hips at the thought.

He thrusts into her without a care. Janet can feel him deep inside her, her walls fluttering around him as she watches his hips slam into her's. he holds her, pulling her against him with each beautiful glide of his cock. He already feels ready to burst, ready to give in to her tight cunt. Janet sits in for the ride, watching every clench of his stomach, every hiss coming from between his teeth, and hear the clap of their hips. She can't stop the whimpers and cries the escape her parted lips.

"Kasey," Janet shouts as he slams into her. He gives up on watching her pussy take him and falls to his hands. He wildly thrusts into her, completely adoring the way she grips his cock. He can't hold on any longer, she has to take him completely.

He slaps his hips harder into her, opening her thigh wider with a hand as he tries to force his knot. Janet feels the hard piece begging for entrance. Was this the bulb as his base? She isn't quite sure she can take that as she already feels completely stuffed. Kasey doesn't quit in his efforts, leaning into her with a particularly hard buck of his hips. He feels her give just a bit, he keeps pushing. Kasey feels her open for him, allowing just enough room for him to pop into place.

"Agh, fuck." Janet groans and Kasey whimpers into her neck. His high pitched wails make Janet hold him closer, petting along his hair as she tries to adjust to the new intrusion.

"Perfect, too perfect," Kasey cries out. He gives small bucks of his hips that drive Janet wild. She gives in faster than she thought possible, clenching and spasming around him. Kasey whimpers louder as she grips him harder than he could ever imagine. His tongue hangs out his mouth, panting as his thighs shake. His balls clench up and when he listens to her own cries of pleasure does he shoot his seed into her. He turns his head and sinks his teeth into her soft, delicate flesh. He is only mildly aware of how fragile she is, holding back just barely as he marks his mate.

Kasey and Janet catch their breath on the now warm floor. Janet's sweat sticks to Kasey's fur. Kasey's teeth sit just barely in Janet's flesh. They can both barely hear the sound of his tail wagging behind them. Janet would laugh if she wasn't so exhausted. Instead she sits lax against the floor hearing a soft keening coming from Kasey.

"You alright," Janet asks. Kasey finally lets her go, sitting up to look down at her. His wide grin show off his blood stained teeth. He licks them clean before resting his head to hers.

"Perfect," he grumbles. They share a smile, all too content with what they have done.

Janet still feels Kasey cumming, his hot load making her squirm in frustration. Kasey looks between them before meeting her eyes, he tilts his head in questions before running his hand down her stomach. Janet nods, dropping her head back as his hand meets her clit. He rubs her as his hips buck. As he listens to her cries of pleasure he misses the sound of a door opening.

Upon later reflection he blames himself for what happens, knowing he is way more aware than this.

As she cums on his cock for the second time a man calls out from behind them. Kasey looks over his shoulder to see a guard pointing a gun at them both. Quickly Kasey pulls out of Janet's all too comfortable cunt. He winces along with Janet at the pain but its short lived before he picks her up.

Kasey settles Janet in the corner of the room, holding himself as a shield in front of her. Kasey snarls and growls at the guard, protecting his new mate from the intruder. Kasey's mind was still a bit fuzzy but he knew that he needed to protect her. He will protect her.

4/2/17- Guards flank to storage room 32C to scene of subject KC-S4905 and Dr. Wilco copulating on the floor. Backed into a corner, KC-S4905 hides Dr. Wilco in the corner while snarling at security. No shots fired, all participants go willingly.

4/2/17- Medical eval. Shows semen found in and around Janet Wilco's vagina. Bruises covering most of the inner thigh, hips, and one on her neck. Small cuts on her posterior and hips. minuscule puncture wounds on her neck and shoulder. No serious injuries. Psych eval. Results are inconclusive.

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

4/5/17- Dr. Janet Wilco is forcibly let go and on constant surveillance until further notice.

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

5/23/17- Despite transferring to a more secure containment, KC-S4905 has escaped the facility.

5/23/17- Janet Wilco is missing.

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

KC-S4905 is still currently missing. Janet Wilco's missing person search has been disbanded and she is now considered dead as of 2/25/18

End of KC-S4905 (Kasey)

Director Cameron H. Stanley

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

If you made it to the end I'm proud of you. this is extremely experimental and I figure most people won’t enjoy this. I know little to nothing about SCP stuff but I was reading one and I got this idea to tell a love story in one. At first, it was just incident reports and no little story bits in the middle. but it got away from me and here we are.

I realized like halfway through this that I was pretty much ripping off Strigoi boyfriend from Somanyfangs on twitter (I tried posting the link but its not working). so credit is due here. besides that, this was all original. I hope you liked it cause I'm so iffy on this one.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist| Main Blog

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

The Forgotten - Part Three

Here is part three of The Forgotten

Here it is in its entirety 

The Aquarium 

Raphael had always been….overwhelming, the one to leave her breathless, boneless and tied up in knots after a rough session of love making.  He knew what buttons to press, the right pressure to touch at just the right places. Raphael was a master of breaking down walls and getting exactly what he wanted by making Aurora realize she wanted the very same thing. This Raphael was no different.

Aurora could feel her heart in her chest as his sinful lips found the pulse point bringing the skin into his mouth and sucked until the blood vessels burst. As he continued to molest the skin in his mouth Raphael’s left hand moved to her backside gripping the apple of ass and squeezed. Aurora tried; she really did, but found it impossible to stop the moan escaping between her parted lips. Memories flooded back as he pressed her into the side of building with his immense frame while licking at the now red mark that spread across her skin.

Raphael did this regularly when they were hers and hers alone. He’d mark her mostly in the mornings when they’d get a few moments alone and he take the first fuck of the day and the subtle mark on her neck would remind Fearless that he had, had their kunoichi first. It was a game the alphas played on the regular always trying to one up each other which Aurora didn’t mind being the object of their attentions. Being on the receiving end of their insatiable sex drive was something she would never complain about. Mike and Don were nearly as bad but they tended to be a little more submissive to her.

“Raphael.”

“That’s so fuckin’ pretty, say it again.” Raphael husked pressing his knee between her thighs to widen her stance. “Why the fuck do I want ya so bad? Like I’ve been starving for years and you’re the only thing to satisfy my hunger?”

Aurora fought with her body as it responded favorably to his impatient treatment. Her hands shook reaching for the rim of his shell and willed herself not to pull him closer but to keep him at bay. She had to get her libido under control, this was not her Raphael. She took a deep breath and pushed; the mouth that was sampling the column of her throat was detached and growled its warning of displeasure.  

It was now she could hear his labored breathing as the disconnect from his body allowed some of her senses to return. Even in the low light Aurora could see his pupils dilated, Raphael’s ravenous sex drive was in full gear and his sights were locked in on the kunoichi. She needed to be quick and utilize all of her tricks because despite the throb between her legs Aurora wasn’t going to give him what he wanted and she could tell he really wanted it.

“Come girly, I can smell ya, I know you want this too. And if we’ve fucked before I know ya can take me.” The eager mutant moved forward again his hands searching to reclaim the roundness of her backside.

Aurora jumped gripping the lip of the roof’s overhang and lifted up and out of range of those gifted three fingered hands. Her legs spread clearing his towering height and using her stomach muscles reared back and launched herself over the mutant landing just behind him.

Raphael fist slammed into the wood siding and whirled around with a manic smile widening over his scarred lips. “Playin hard to get huh? That’s ok cause I love the thrill of the chase. When I catch ya I’m gonna make you scream my name and mark you inside and out. That way Fearless will know who had ya first.” Just then the brute stopped his forward motion and blinked eyeing Aurora carefully. “I’m havin déjà vu right now, like I’ve said those words before. But Leo and I have never…….”

He looked confused running his hand over his scalp before clamping both hands over his skull grunting in pain. “God my skull, it hurts all of a sudden.”

Aurora took the moment of his distraction and kicked the solid turtle in the chest sending him back on his shell. With the quickness of her training she moved over the enormous turtle and pressed under his left arm pit and above his plastron to the right of his clavicle, right where she needed to immobilize the deadly terrapin. The mutant hissed in discomfort as his body succumbed to the pressure points and every muscle in his cumbersome frame let go of its tension leaving him helpless to the tempting woman.

Despite his arms and legs useless his lips still worked just fine, “Ain’t you full of fuckin’ surprises. Pressure points, I’ve only seen Leo use those. Looks like I seriously underestimated your abilities. I promise that won’t happen again. That is unless you plan on killin me beautiful.”

Aurora straddled his hips and leaned down settling her elbows on his chest and her head in her hands. “It’s Aurora, and don’t worry handsome those pressure points will wear off in about 15 minutes. I don’t want you dead I just wanna have a few words. You are having déjà vu because you and Leonardo have both had me, but so has Mikey and Donnie.” Saying his name out loud still hurt but the furrowing brows and a grunt of pain that came from Raphael indicated his brain was trying to access the suppressed memories. “You and Fearless would play a game practically every day. It was called ‘Who fucked the kunoichi first.’ It was a game I enjoyed being included in. You see, I know a lot about you. I know you’re just a little bigger then Leo with a slight curve to the left. You have a long scar that runs from the top of your thigh down to your knee. I know that you love your adonis line stroked.” Her right hand disappeared between them dipping under his waistband to find the well defined line of muscle just under his plastron connecting to his groin.

The immobilized turtle tried tilting his hips up into her fingers as they ran the length of the line coming to a stop just before his cock. “Fuck!” his head dropped back to the tar roof and rumbled as her fingers moved down bypassing the rock hard rod of flesh and the hanging green globes. “Ah come on!”

Aurora leaned down ghosting her lips over his, the tip of her tongue darted out running along his lower lip and he leaned up to catch the appendage sucking it into his mouth. She allowed it briefly having her first taste of Raphael in years. She opened her mouth and swept her tongue into his mouth giving him a deep kiss and broke free. “I also know your little kink.” The pad of her finger ran just under the green sacks tracing the line of flesh just under them. “I know when you get head you love to get your prostate massaged.” Just then her finger ran over the puckered entrance and the brute gasped as the soft pad of her finger pressed against the flesh just enough to make him groan.

“Fucking impossible…ugghh…..fuck……”

“I know every inch of your body Raph.” Her hand moved up again and the palm of her hand finally gave him the attention the mutant had been craving and gripped the pulsing cock firmly. Aurora closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, this was getting way out of hand but she needed his attention, his full attention and she had it now for sure. “As much as I want to ride you until we’re both sweaty and satisfied…”

“Please, dear gods, please do blondie.”  

“Your boss isn’t who you think he is Raphael. Bishop took you from me, from the resistance and put something in your bodies to make you obedient.” Her fingers slid down to the base of his shaft and twisted just the way he liked it. “And you Raphael are anything but obedient.

“Fu—hck….What the fuck are you talkin about? Fuckin shell, just-t like that!”

“It’s small and metal or some kind of alloy, we’re not sure. It moves around your body somehow keeping you and your brothers under his control. Keeping millions under his control.” Her hand released his cock and Aurora leaned up much to Raphael’s displeasure.

“I ain’t got nothing in my body controlling me. I ain’t no one’s puppet!”

“Oh I know.  You’re not one to take orders, at least without questioning their validity first. It was the main theme of yours and Leo’s fights. But why do you think it hurts when you try to remember? Why you and your brothers are drawn to me? Why the name Donnie pulls at something deep inside you? You had another brother but he disappeared and we had no idea what happened to him. It still haunts us to this day. Can you remember anything prior to five years ago? Your childhood?” Suddenly out of the corner of her eye Aurora could see his finger twitch, it was time to leave.

Her fingers rested on his chest and ran over the hard lines letting out a shaky breath and stood.

“Hey, wait! Where ya going? You can’t leave me like this? Fuckin tease!”

Aurora moved off of him and took a few steps back edging the shadows of the roof. “The feeling is coming back in your body and I can’t be here when it does. I’ll be seein you red…” And with that she disappeared from his view and began her escape listening to the roar of her name fade with the distance.

She didn’t stop; Aurora ran and ran bypassing home base just in case he would take chase. She wouldn’t take any more chances; she did enough of that tonight. Keeping to the darkness Aurora slipped below the streets and made the trek to her own personal hideout.

The lair had been abandoned shortly after Bishop earned his edge in the war. The turtles and Aurora moved to the resistance’s hideout to stay close to the news and the help. So the lair was still only known to a select few. Since the five original tenants were either gone or unable to remember its location only Aurora, Casey and April knew of its existence.

Aurora made a trip to the lair at least once a month to make sure everything was running and that it was still stocked just in case of emergencies. Just in cases the resistance fell and they needed a new place to lay low.

The vacant rooms still hurt to look at, Donnie’s lab sat with abandoned machines and projects never to be finished again. The room with the rice paper doors had been missing its owner for the longest. Running her fingers along the teak wood frame Aurora pushed it open and kneeled at the opening. In the middle of the room was a beautiful ornate Japanese table and sat upon it was a green urn filled with the remains of Master Splinter.

“Good evening Sensei, I know it’s been a while since I’ve visited but I figured you’d like an update on your sons. I had a run in with Raph this evening; he didn’t try to kill me this time so that was a bonus. I had to use a few of my tricks to get him to listen but I think I might have moved a few brain cells around a bit. I..may have kissed him but it was unavoidable. “Her eyes lifted to the vessel and let out a heavy sigh. “Ok maybe it wasn’t but….it’s been so long and I was weak. He did have something interesting to say. Supposedly I have been a regular topic of conversation with those three. That’s something I guess.” Getting back to her feet Aurora bowed. “Sensei.”

She moved about the lair until she entered their room looking at the giant makeshift bed. She remembered the day Mikey had suggested the consolidation of their sleeping arrangements. He had been so proud of himself he was simply beaming from ear to ear.

“What the fuck did ya do shell for brains?” Raphael was circling the massive arrangement of mattresses, blankets and pillows. Even though he was a bit annoyed Aurora could see the wheels spinning in his head.

Mikey took a few steps back and rushed his creation grabbing Aurora as he went. Aurora screamed in shock as the youngest hurtled her and him onto the mass with a very comfortable collision of bedding. “No more fighting over who gets to sleep with Rora. Now it’s just gonna be a giant turtle pile with her in the middle.”

Leo stood in the doorway with his massive arms crossed over his chest; his face was unreadable as he watched Mikey molest Aurora with his signature enthusiasm.

“I don’t usually say this but…..” Donnie was right next to Leo but his expression was much more readable. The big toothy grin widened and the genius followed the two into the bed helping Mikey strip the kunoichi of her clothes. “This is probably the best idea you’ve ever had Mike.”

“Leo! Raph!” Aurora squealed mock fighting off two of her lovers. “Are you gonna just sit there and let them take advantage of me like this?”

The two alphas finally found each other’s gaze and stepped from their positions. Raphael rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck while Leo slipped a kunai from his thigh holster.

“It looks like you two are taking way too long to rid her of her clothes. I think you need to let a master take over.”

Raphael moved with Leo and lunged, “Not if I get to her first Fearless.”

The introduction to the new bed was christened with their first fivesome leaving Aurora walking a little funny the next few days. She still found it unbelievable she was once in a relationship with four mutant turtles. Aurora remembered how good it was and how amazing each of them were to her. Something that good wasn’t meant to last. Life could be so cruel sometimes, a taste of heaven before it was ripped from her grasp.  

Aurora crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. The interaction with Raph had left her shaken and emotionally drained, something she was not expecting for the nights events. She had nearly given in to his advances and that worried her. But then again the closer he got and the longer he was in close proximity he seemed to lose more and more control. As she mentioned things from his past Raph’s head began to hurt as if the memories were trying to resurface. Maybe she should have given in?

Their scent had left the room long ago but the indents from their shells remained. Her fingers trailed along the massive divots imagining their slumbering bodies just next to her. She imagined Raphael turning to her and his honey eyes opening to find her staring at him.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m just imagining you guys here with me.” Her hand reached out and ran her palm across his cheek smiling as he leaned into the touch. “I miss you.”

Raphael moved closer running his fingers through Aurora’s hair gripping the back of her skull gently, “We may not realize it but we miss you too. But I’m hopin’ you guys can figure those fuckin little things out. I wanna come home; we wanna come home to you.”

“We’re working on it I promise. It’s just gonna take a little longer without Don here to head the charge. We’ll get you home; we’ll get all of you home or die trying.”

“Nah Rora don’t do that. I can’t fuck you into next year when I’m free of this bullshit if you’re dead. You need to stay alive and strong cause this isn’t gonna get easier, it’s only gonna get harder.” Raphael leaned in giving her his signature smirk. “Speaking of harder….”

Aurora closed her eyes and waited, but like all of her other day dreams those lips never came. No arms came to claim her. By the time she opened her eyes Raphael was gone and his indent cold as death. Tears began to form in her eyes as she stared at where bulky terrapin had just been laying.  She was tired, so fucking tired.

The next thing Aurora knew, she was being jolted awake to the com flush in her ear blowing up with a familiar worried voice.

“Base to White Skull, base to White Skull. Where the fuck are you!?” April’s angry voice boomed in her ear. Just under the irritation Aurora could hear the fear in the back of her throat clawing at her subconscious praying her friend wasn’t captured or worse….. dead.

She must have fallen asleep, poor April had enough to worry about. Pressing the com in her ear Aurora yawned and replied quickly, “This is White Skull to base. My apologies I had an unannounced visit from Red Bear. I was unsure if I was being followed so I took refuge in the aquarium just in case. I didn’t want to compromise the base just in case he had gotten the best of me.”

“Are you alright?” April’s voice instantly softened understanding the code words and knowing she was safe.

Aurora let out a heavy sigh and nodded to mostly herself, “Yeah I’m ok, I must have fell asleep. I’ll return at dawn.”

“Be careful White Skull, I…..we’ll see you in a few hours. Over and out.”

As the com went cold Aurora sat up pushing the blankets from her body. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she made her way to the kitchen for something to drink.

The genius’s sewage powered generator was still working like a dream. As long as the human race still occupied New York City there would always be an endless amount of human waste. Donnie had figured out a way to harness that power and turn it into unlimited power for the Lair. The lights remained functional, along with all the kitchen appliances as well as the bathrooms. God she missed him.

The fridge was the least supplied appliance. It held perishables and in a secret lair uninhabited most of the time it was unwise to keep it stocked with items that would go bad quickly. The freezer held most of the food and the fridge held water, pop and butter.

Pulling out a bottle of water she cracked the top and downed the whole contents in one gulp.

“Fuck!” Aurora growled throwing the now empty bottle in the trash. “My thermos! Now I gotta go get it.”

Just then a burst of light from Donnie’s lab distracted Aurora from her lost item. In a flash her hands went the hilts of her katana and unsheathed them with a low sing. Her feet made no sound as the kunoichi made her way to the partly closed door currently displaying a spectacular show of multi colors.

She could hear electricity snap and crackle and a low hum of some kind as the light show pulsed faster and faster. As she reached the partially open door to Donatello’s lab Aurora peered through the crack and felt her heart stop and burst all at the same time.

Her katanas slipped from her grip clattering to the ground at her feet. In a hurried burst of energy her fingers found the edge of the metal doors and pushed with all her might.

“DONNIE!?”

@imthegreenfairy88​ @alonia143​ @ravn-87​ @waterstar2016​ @tmnt-bucklover​

[madasthesea]

how can the body die? (you tell me, everything)

Read on AO3

Peter tumbled in the window, leaving a bloody streak on the glass.

It was a sight Tony had seen—in reality and in his nightmares—too often.

He was next to Peter before the kid had even managed to find his feet, arm around him as he hauled him up.

“He got me,” Peter panted, turning his face into Tony’s neck as a groan slid between his teeth. “He, he got—he wasn’t that fast, before, I—”

“Hush,” Tony said, his tone softened by the gentle hand cradling Peter’s head. He peered down at Peter’s side, where the suit was dark with blood, scraps of shredded fabric sticking to Peter’s skin.

“Who got you?” He asked as he began dragging Peter toward the Medbay. The wound was a strange teardrop shape and it looked deep.

Peter tripped on his feet, his hand automatically reaching up to cover his side when the movement jostled him.

“Scorpion,” he sighed. “His, well—the stinger. On the suit.”

“Jeez, kid,” Tony murmured, wincing as he imagined the large, metal barb piercing Peter’s side, tearing skin and muscle as it was ripped back out.

Peter just made a pained sound, his eyes drooping as they staggered into the Medbay.

Tony helped him on the cot, getting a penlight to get a better look at the wound.

“FRIDAY, get Cho here. I want her to do the stitching,” he said. “This is really deep, kid.”

“It hurts,” Peter whined, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bed.

“I bet it does,” Tony agreed, briefly placing his palm on Peter’s forehead. Peter’s eyes opened just enough to look up at Tony, his expression bordering on pleading. Tony’s voice softened. “We’ll get you some medicine real soon, ok, buddy? I promise.”

Peter’s eyes looked suspiciously watery, but he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Ok. Let’s get you out of the suit, yeah? Get you comfortable?”

Tony peeled the top half of the suit off as gently as possible, but tacky blood and sweat made the material stick to the wound and by the time it was down to Peter’s waist, the kid was practically sobbing.

“It hurts,” Peter gasped, tears leaking into his hair. “Mr. Stark, it really hurts.”

Tony frowned and gave up on the rest of the suit, leaning over Peter and pushing his bangs back from his forehead. As painful as the wound looked, it was strange that Peter was reacting so badly to it. Tony had seen him walk on a broken leg with less complaint.

“It’s ok, Pete. It’s ok,” he assured, feeling panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. He swiped a tear off Peter’s face, then tapped his cheek to get the kid to look at him.

Peter squinted up at Tony, his face white as a sheet, his entire body trembling.

“You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?”

“I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

“Alright, buddy, take a breath,” Tony soothed, putting a hand on Peter’s chest. “I’m going to take a blood sample and we’ll—”

He was interrupted as Peter twisted on the cot; a cut-off scream ripped out of his throat. He bit it back a second too late, his head thrown back in agony. Tony flinched at the sound, surprised and horrified.

“Peter.”

“Tony,” Peter begged. “It hurts so bad,” his voice broke as his chest heaved, nearly hyperventilating.

“I’m gonna fix it.” The promise spilled out of his mouth before his mind could fully form it. He watched as Peter bit down so hard on his lip that he drew blood before finally springing into action. He rushed to a cupboard and nearly snapped the door off its hinges as he flung it open, grabbing a blood test kit. “I’m gonna fix it, buddy, just hold on.”

Tony hands shook so badly he had to tear the packaging open with his teeth, but he forced himself to take a deep breath as he wrestled Peter’s hand into his. Peter’s hands were shaking too, his fingers curling and uncurling at random.

“I’ve got to get some blood, Pete,” Tony said. “Hold still, just-just for a second, alright Spidey? I need you to hold still.”

Peter’s every exhale was a whine of pain, sweat glinting on his forehead and chest. His eyebrows were bunched together, his entire face creased in pain. He gave Tony a look that clearly said that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the trembling.

“Ok,” Tony breathed. “Ok, then, just—sorry. This is going to be a bit of a mess.”

It took three tries to get a clean enough puncture that Tony could smear a bit of blood onto a glass plate, but Peter was so caught up in his head, in the pain from the wound and what Tony was sure was poison coursing through his system, he didn’t notice. Tony still bent and pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s fingertips in apology.

He set the blood sample on the machine to be analyzed, then hurried back to Peter’s side. Peter, who was practically tearing the mattress he was laying on as his back arched, tears still dripping down his face.

“Peter, just—here, hold my hand, ok?” Tony said, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending low over Peter, as if to physically shield him. He combed his hand roughly through Peter’s sweat-damp curls.

“Can’t,” Peter panted, shaking his head.

“Sure about that?” Tony asked. Peter opened one eye and Tony waved at him, the nanotech gauntlet glinting in the light. “Hi. Iron Man. Hold my hand, kid, stop destroying my medbay.”

Peter’s breathy laugh was mostly forced, but he did snag Tony’s hand tight in his own, holding them both close to his chest, every muscle in his body rigid. Tony adjusted to compensate, crowding over Peter, trying to give him some physical assurance, some emotional anchor, even if he couldn’t take the pain away.

Tony kept raking his hand through Peter’s hair, bent low enough that, if he let himself, he could press his forehead to Peter’s temple.

“I’d rather you scream than break your teeth trying to hold it in, Pete,” Tony said, his voice hoarse around the words.

Almost immediately, Peter gave a short, guttural yell, his body jerking as he curled around their joined hands.

Tony couldn’t help himself as he flinched at the sound.

“Sorry,” Peter hiccupped, tears dripping steadily off his nose.

“Don’t.” His tone was snappish, but he knew Peter would see behind the anger to the terror coursing through Tony’s veins much like the venom through Peter’s.

Peter forced one eye open, looking up at Tony in his peripheral. “Poison?” he asked meekly.

Tony wiped some blood from Peter’s bottom lip with his thumb, wincing in sympathy.

“Think so.” He sat up enough to look over his shoulder at the computer. “Should know any—"  

Peter’s teeth clacked as his jaw snapped together. The hand around Tony’s tightened until it was crushing the metal, pushing the nanobites into Tony’s skin.

“Peter?” Tony whirled back around, leaning away so he could get a good look at Peter’s face.

Peter’s eyes were rolled up in his head, every muscle taut and shaking.

Tony breathed out a curse, unable to look away from the teenager having a seizure in his arms. He knew, in some distant part of his mind, what you were supposed to do when someone was having a seizure, but all he could focus on was Peter’s face, the little noises of pain he was making as he struggled to get a breath.

He sat frozen as the tremors slowly stopped, as Peter went completely limp, finally releasing the too tight grip on Tony’s hand.

“Peter?” he whispered, his own hand shaking as he raised it to Peter’s throat.

Tony jumped as a different hand batted his away and he looked up into the determined face of Dr. Cho.

“Move,” she barked, pressing her own fingers against Peter’s pulse.

It took Tony’s mind a second to catch up, but once it did, he stood on weak legs, moving to the head of the cot where Helen wouldn’t need to be, and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms tight against his chest to hide the mangled remains of the gauntlet, ignoring the cuts he could feel in his skin.

“How long?” Cho asked, lifting Peter’s eyelids and shining a light in them.

“Twenty-four seconds,” FRIDAY immediately responded, which was good, because Tony had no idea. He’d been so panicked he’d forgotten to count.

“Heartrate and breathing are stable,” she muttered before turning attention to the sluggishly bleeding wound in Peter’s side.

“He was poisoned,” Tony said numbly, hardly aware that his mouth was moving.

Helen spared him a glance, then looking toward the computer screen where the results were just starting to come up.

“FRIDAY, alert the on-call team. I want everyone up here.”

Tony’s heart sank to the floor. He pushed himself off the wall and came closer, feeling clumsy and detached.

“Why? What is it?”

Helen opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a low groan from the bed.

Tony instantly turned all of his attention to Peter, standing by the bed and putting a hand on his head.

“Easy, kid,” Tony murmured, the relief that he felt seeing Peter slowly blinking up at him enough to make his throat tighten with emotion.

Peter gasped as he moved his head to look at Tony, his eyes slamming shut again. He swore quietly and Tony did his best to force a laugh, to brush off the concern he could feel in his expression, knowing that Peter would notice.

“How you doing, Pete?” Tony asked, leaning over so Peter could look at him easier.

“Um,” Peter hesitated. “Ow.” The humor in the understatement was ruined when his voice broke.

Tony sighed, pressing his thumb against the soft skin behind Peter’s ear.

Helen strode forward so she was in Peter’s line of sight.

“Good news, Peter,” Dr. Cho said, offering a tight-lipped smile as the kid looked up at her with pain written on every line of his face. “We can go ahead and give you some pain medication now and then get that wound stitched closed.”

Peter’s eyes watered at the prospect of some relief and he nodded in acknowledgment. One of the nurses quickly got an IV line set up.

The wound was already beginning to close, without being cleaned or anything, so they couldn’t wait for the medication to take effect. Peter was in so much pain from the poison that his defenses were down, his admittedly impressive limits well beyond met.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, looking for Tony amid the bustle.

He was just a child. Tony swallowed hard.

“Right here, buddy,” he assured, coming closer.

Cho began rinsing the wound. Peter squeezed his eyes closed, a tear tracing down his cheek as he did.

Tony’s fingers were gentle as he wiped it away, brushing his knuckle under Peter’s eye.

“Hey, it’s ok, Pete, come on,” he soothed into Peter’s ear.

“Everything hurts,” Peter whispered. “My blood feels like fire.”

“Those meds are going to kick in any second, I promise,” Tony lied. He had no idea if the pain killers would be effective against whatever was in his system. He could only pray that they would be, that they would at least put Peter to sleep so he wouldn’t have to feel the excruciating pain.

Halfway through the stitching—with Peter hissing and whimpering with every one, making Tony’s chest ache as he sat, uselessly stroking Peter’s hair and murmuring reassurance—the medicine did seem to kick in. Peter’s head lolled to the side, but Tony’s hand was there to support him, cupping his cheek as he adjusted Peter’s neck to a more comfortable angle.

“That’s right, you go ahead and sleep, kiddo,” Tony murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

Peter’s eyes met his, so full of pain and trust that it cut Tony to his core. Because he didn’t know if he could take care of Peter. He’d failed to protect him and now he might fail to save him.

Tony sat and held Peter’s hand long after he had fallen asleep.

The nurses were quiet as they cleaned Peter up and got him out of the Spider-Man suit and into a hospital gown. Tony stayed where he was even as another nurse carefully plucked broken nanobots from his hand, wrapping it in bandages. Once that was taken care of, Tony asked for a wet rag, which he was given, and delicately washed Peter’s face of sweat and tears while he waited for Cho to be finished.

Peter still trembled, even in his sleep.

“Tony,” Helen finally said. Tony looked up and watched the nurses scurry out, glancing back over their shoulders at them.

“What’s up, Doc?” he tried to joke, but his voice was quieter than it should have been. He cleared his throat.  

Helen sighed, looking at the holographic screen in front of her.

“It looks like it isn’t just one type of poison,” she said, her voice clear and blunt. She was nothing if not professional. “Are you familiar with Project Centipede?”

“Knock-off Extremis. Highly unstable.” Tony’s stomach clenched as he said it, glancing back at Peter. Hadn’t the kid said his blood felt like it was on fire?

Helen nodded. “Not to mention it’s radioactive.”

“Well, so is Peter.”

Helen’s mouth quirked up just a bit at the corners before she schooled herself. “Which might help. But it might hurt. I’ll have to do some tests.”

Tony took a steeling breath. “What else?”

“It looks like some kind of manufactured pathogen. Combined with the Extremis, his temperature is already rising steadily. We can probably expect some bouts of vomiting, difficulty breathing, and possibly hallucinations.”

“Ok.” He felt dizzy.

“But that’s not what’s—” Helen cut herself off, but the words hung in the air. That’s not what’s killing him.

She glanced at Tony again, then continued. “It looks like there’s also a very high concentration of, well, scorpion venom. A mix of many different poisonous species. That’s what caused the seizure.”

“How do we treat it?” Tony asked, his voice hoarse.

“Well, you already discovered how to neutralize Extremis. We’ll pull up your notes and get Bruce working on that factor. I can isolate the pathogen isotopes and create an antiserum from that. We’ll just have hope that the two cures won’t interact badly.”

“And the venom?”

Helen rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. “When you get bitten by a snake, you’re supposed to take the snake with you to the hospital.”

Tony blinked. “You want me to get the snake.”

“I need that venom if I’m going to fix this,” Helen said seriously. Tony nodded and stood, then paused.

“How long?”

Helen sighed, looking at Peter for a long moment before meeting Tony’s eye. “Tony. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. I’d say a few hours at most, but... he could go any time. There’s no way of knowing.”

Tony couldn’t breathe. He sank back into the chair behind him, dropping his head into his hands.

“Tony,” Helen said. He waved her off. He had to get it together, he had to go, now, and get the venom for the kid. He couldn’t waste time freaking out.

Tony’s voice was a little breathless when he spoke “FRI, tell Rhodes to suit up.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony stood, blinking stars out of his vision. His heart was beating fast, but he ignored it.

Cho stood with him, looking concerned.

“I don’t think you should be the one—”

“I have to,” he said, brushing past her. “I can’t just... I can’t just sit here and do nothing. FRI, tell him we’ll debrief in the common room. Pull up everything you have on Scorpion.”

“Tony, do you really want to spend Peter’s last hours on a mission? That anyone else could go on? You should be with him.”

Tony stopped at the doorway, holding onto the jamb to keep from swaying as her words hit him.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.”

The debrief was all of two minutes. By the time it was done, Rhodey was suited up and waiting, Tony’s own suit standing at attention next to him. But he hesitated.

“Give me just a second, alright?” he breathed.

Rhodey’s eyes were knowing as he nodded. Tony turned back toward the medical wing, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

Peter’s room was devoid of nurses for the moment. The kid was still asleep, the IV dripping steadily as it kept him on a constant stream of painkillers.

Tony approached the bed but stopped by Peter’s feet.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say goodbye. It was unbearable.

But he had to decide, before he wasted any more time, which would be harder to live with: Accepting the very real possibility that Peter might die while he was gone and saying goodbye to him? Or living in a fantasy, denying the truth that Peter was balanced precariously between life and death, only to come back with the cure to find him already gone?

Tony shook the thoughts away. Peter wouldn’t die. Tony would make sure of it, because he couldn’t live if Peter didn’t.

“Alright, kiddo,” Tony said, his voice too loud in the silent medbay. “I’ll be back before you know it, ok? And we’ll get you all fixed up.”

Tony reached out and patted Peter’s foot. He cleared his throat, looking down at his hand where it covered Peter’s ankle. When he spoke again, there was less bravado in his voice.

“I know you’re a fighter, kid, so you fight for me, alright? And I’ll go out there and fight for you. And you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

He stood in silence for another few seconds before turning around. He took a step, then clenched his jaw and pivoted back, crossing those few extra feet to the head of the bed.

He bent and pressed a firm kiss to Peter’s forehead, cupping Peter’s cheek with one hand. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second and refused to think that this was the last kiss he was ever going to give the kid.

Then he straightened, sniffed lightly, and walked out the door.

“Don’t tell me that brat’s still alive,” Mac Gargan called casually as he watched Iron Man and War Machine land heavily in front of him.

Tony’s blood boiled, but the faceplate hid the way he winced.

He had debated on keeping Peter’s vitals on his HUD, but knew it would only distract him. FRIDAY was on strict instructions to alert him the second anything changed, but Tony still couldn’t help but feel the distance between them right now.

“He’s stronger than I gave him credit for,” Scorpion continued, his gear closing around him, clunky and slow. It was vastly inferior technology to the Iron Man suit, but Tony eyed the glowing orange fluid powering it with distaste. Project Centipede again.

“Yeah, he hears that a lot,” Tony said flippantly, circling around Gargan enough that he couldn’t see both him and Rhodey at once. “I think it’s the high voice.”

Gargan smiled at him in a way that sent shiver’s up his spine on Peter’s behalf. He couldn’t believe the kid faced down this psychopath on a regular basis.

The thought sobered him. He was paying the price now, sedated and in pain and dying in the medbay.

“That little insect deserved everything he got, Stark. He had it coming”

Tony grit his teeth, his vision tinged with red as he looked at the man that might have killed Peter.

“That’s nice. Now do you mind holding still while I murder you?”

Rhodey jumped into action the same second the mechanical tail whipped toward Tony.

Peter was right. Scorpion was fast. And strong, stronger than Tony had expected. He maneuvered his mechanical stinger like it was a fifth limb, wrapping it around Tony’s ankle and slamming him into a support strut while Rhodey attacked, pulling his fist back and crashing it into Gargan’s face with the reinforced strength of the suit.

Tony blasted the artificial limb away, powering up his thrusters to hover several feet above the ground.

Before Gargan could recover his balance, Tony rocketed forward and rammed him in the stomach throwing him into a wall. Tony raised his repulsor to Gargan’s face, the whine of it powering up barely louder than Tony’s snarl.

His HUD flashed red.

“Boss, he’s having another seizure.”

All the breath whooshed out of Tony’s lungs. His heart skipped a beat. The only thing he could see was Peter’s vitals going haywire in the corner of the screen, his heart struggling to beat.

Scorpion’s tail wrapped around Tony’s waist and threw him into a pillar.

Rhodey retaliated while Tony got his bearings, and by the time his vision had stopped spinning, he was spitting mad.

This man was killing his kid. It was his fault, his poison coursing through Peter’s veins, contracting his muscles and causing him pain.

“Enough of this,” Tony growled. He activated his laser. If Gargan lost a limb in the process, all the better.

The laser cut clean through the base of the stinger. Gargan screamed as he fell, like Tony actually had sliced off a limb.

Rhodey rushed forward, his shoulder canon trained on the man as he fell to the cracked pavement. Tony hurried to the tail, taking the barb in both hands and tearing it in two. In the center rested a canister of what had to be the poison, glowing faint orange.

Tony trusted Rhodey enough to take care of Gargan without him.

“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped, taking to the air, the cannister cradled carefully in his hands. “I’m coming. Tell Peter I’m coming.”

To be continued...

@irondad-fic-exchange @iron--spider

[lucidpantone]

Hi :) Idk whether you're the right person to ask but I like your blog and asks and you're quite popular so I think it may get more attention. Here's the thing. In my real life I have never met anyone with depression/bipolar disorder (that I know of). So my experience/knowledge is very much based on the internet/movies/TV and well, SKAM and its remakes. I am aware that SKAM doesn't portray MI 100% real because it's still a show (or at least I think so, dont quote me on that!). However. Recently, I stumbled upon an interview somewhere on the news with a psychiatrist about bipolar disorder. She said she has been working with many patients with it. And she said that bipolar is not really manic vs depression. She said (and claimed that ALL of her many patients agreed with her) that bipolar looks like this: 94% of time severe depression, 3% mania, 3% 'normal' life. I have to admit that this really shook me. And I think you will agree it's a completely different scenario that SKAM or wtfock or SKAM France portrayed. I'd love to hear your opinion and also I'd be very grateful if you published this so more people who have more experience/knowledge on the subject can speak out too. Thank you! 😊😊😊

hey!(disclaimer this is super long) So funny enough I can kinda help answer some of this anon from my own experience but not from a medical experience or from the experience of the person who suffers from bipolar disorder. I have commented before that my roommate of 2.5 years has bipolar disorder and tho we don’t live together anymore living with him I got to experience first hand what those ups and downs that the Even character talks about 1st hand. Take into mind MI’s manifest differently for everyone no one manifestation will be the same. For example a study ran by a psychiatrist examining a sample group of people living with Bipolar you need to closely exam the participants. Are these participants homeless? or come from unstable families or environments? Then a continuous state of manic depression is also being influenced by environment. Environment plays a big part in how an MI impacts you. Why do you think routine is so essential for a lot of people, it creates stability so without knowing the nuances of the study I would just take that study as one of many studies and ultimately try to consume a large number of research findings to form the most informed opinion. Ok so personally from my experience living with my old roommate no he was not always depressed or suffering from an episode. I would say for the most part he was a functioning adult but yes they were aspects of his bipolar that effected his normal life. My old roommate was diagnosed at 17 when we moved in together he was 30. So he knew his disease really well. My old roommate was also an avid recreational drug user but he would not mix his meds and party stuff. He knew better by 30 as he had done that a lot in his 20′s and came to realize thats when he lost control. 

So for the most part this was the routine of my roommate’s MI he would be good for awhile and take his meds and everything would be fine for the most part.Then he would decide to stop taking his meds usually it was triggered by a festival/concert in town or something along those lines. Then he would never get back on his meds this would last for a little while and then he would spiral. My roommate was very aware that without his meds it wouldn't take long to start exhibiting signs to the point that I could tell when something was off. Yes the manic episodes were irrational and disorganized but my roommate was pretty harmless to anyone else manic he was just super high on life for example he woke me up at 2am once because he just “needed” to go for a run. Or he brought a white school chalk board because he would get these urges to write on our walls and his gf would freak so he brought this chalk board and put it on the wall and when he was manic he would go to town. He also wanted to spend money like crazy. Luckily he was a trust fund kid so he had it but he would go in and buy a ton of shit he didn't need. Now when he was down its was different sometimes he was down because the recreational drugs would exhaust his brain and then all hell would break loose coupled with the bipolar.I wasn’t sure if he was manic or just down off synthetics or a bit of both. I did witness an organic depressive episode once tho and for my roommate he would get really nasty. Like say shit that was super hurtful to get under your skin and also he would hate anything and everything and god forbid you said something like its a “pretty day” he would be like “I hate this day. f*** the sun”. It would usually be a 2 week down period but the most intense portions of his episodes were only a 2-4 days because then my roommate would cave and call his therapist (he has been in therapy his whole adult life) and they would create a new “plan” and that means his meds. It would take about two weeks for the meds to finally regulate him and then he would be fine. A lot of my roomies episodes were self induced because he would stop his meds but when he was on meds he was fine he had moments he was blue but nothing he couldn't manage. So personally I would say every 6 months for two weeks he would experience an episode but once again it was self induced. Also my roommate was 100% responsible for triggering himself at times via his partying. He is not an idiot he knows the consequences he has had bipolar since he was 17 he knows how his brain works(he is highly aware that he is someone that will live medicated for the entirety of his life) I just think human nature gets the best of us sometimes. However I will say my roommate is one of my closest friends. I love that kid. He is married now and just had a kid. He doesn't party anymore but you know organically he will one day have an episode but for the most part once you live with him you sorta of get use to it. Its just something that happens every few months. So just plan ahead and learn to communicate a lot but once again my roommate is 30 he doesn't hide his bipolar he owns it he will even tell new friends like “hey one day I may be acting weird its probably my bipolar flaring up” (like its fucking allergies or something) but he is so use to it by now he has been living with his diagnoses so long. So you just know as his friend that eventually you will catch him during a time when it’s flaring up. Also for me I got to know him well enough I also knew when it was happening. They are signs but once again for the most part we just lived day by day like normal as long as he took medication. Oh and for my roommate personally he has only ever experienced 2/3 “dark” episodes meaning he checked himself in for his own personal safety. I hope this long explanation helps!

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020 

No. 5 

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Steve Rogers

Title: The Modern Mengele

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO 

The HYDRA base they found was a rogue one – one SHIELD didn’t even know about – one that was only ever built and run by HYDRA agents. The Alaskan wilderness seemed like a likely location to hide Loki’s staff, so the Avengers set out for the base as soon as one of their sources discovered it. That source led them to a cargo train that left Fairbanks once a month with supplies for the base. The six Avengers snuck onto the rear of a train right before it left, and dashed into the nearest car, which turned out to be a refrigerated one full of frozen meat. The team lasted an hour sitting, individually, with their backs against the walls or barrels or wooden crates. And then Natasha crawled over to Clint’s arms and he wrapped them around her, warming her up with soft quick motions. And then Steve decided that he was cold enough to risk feeling foolish, and he joined their little hug. Eventually, all six Avengers ended up in a little dogpile, clinging to each other for warmth. Tony opened the Iron Man suit and programmed it to blast heat across all of them. There was a silent agreement that no one was to tell anyone about the team of superheroes hugging each other in a train…

 When the train came to a stop, they waited, weapons ready, at the door. They never got a chance to use those weapons, because canisters suddenly dropped down from a ceiling vent, and gas exploded so fast that not even the Iron Man suit had a chance to close its vents before Tony took an inhale. The six Avengers passed out instantly.

 Natasha woke up in the same place she fell asleep in. The train was moving again – rumbling along the tracks. She was chained tight to the steel wall underneath the refrigeration vents. Clint was on her right and Tony was on her left, both still unconscious. The Iron Man suit, Cap’s shield, and Mjolnir, Thor’s hammer, sat quietly in the opposite corner. A man in a black, thick HYDRA uniform leaned past her and felt the pulse in Tony’s neck. Natasha tried to nab the man with the only weapon she had at the moment – her teeth – but the arm pulled back. She squinted through what remained of the haze and saw their source in SHIELD, the one who had told them about the rogue base in the first place.

 “Where’s the rest of my team, Doug?” Nat spat at her traitorous friend.

 Brown-haired, blue-eyed, vaguely resembling a Ken doll, Doug sat back down in his seat between two pairs of some of the biggest brutes of men Natasha had ever seen. “Don’t be mad,” he told her. “Let me explain.”

 “You were my date to Clint’s wedding,” Natasha whispered, incredulous. “How could you betray us like this?”

 “I didn’t betray you. I saved you!” Doug insisted. “My lieutenant wanted to kill you all, but I convinced him to let you, Stark, and Clint go. We’re on our way back to Fairbanks. But I can only let you go, Natasha, if you swear not to go after the others. If you do, they’ll kill them instantly. My lieutenant has big plans for Banner, Rogers, and Thor. You don’t interrupt him, and he doesn’t shoot them in the head.”

 “What does this lieutenant of yours want with them?”

 “It’s not actually him, it’s…” Doug apparently couldn’t bring himself to look his old friend in the eyes when he told her this part. “It’s Keane.”

 Nat’s jaw dropped. “Dr. Albert Keane? The Modern Mengele?”

 “That’s an unfair nickname. He’s not as bad as Josef Mengele.”

 “He does merciless medical experiments on innocent people! I can’t believe you’re on his side!”

 “Nat, I—” Doug got up and started to pace the car. “I told you. I told you I convinced them to let you go if they can keep the others. I did you a favor. Now, tell me you’re going to stand down. Swear it on your godchildren’s lives.”

 “You think I’m going to just sit here and let Keane put Thor’s head on Hulk’s body?” Natasha shook her head. “I never stop fighting for my team. You, of all people, should know that.”

 Suddenly, they all heard a thump on the roof above them. A laser cut through the center of the ceiling and started going in a circle. “You should know something, Doug,” Nat said over the roar. “I told you six of us were coming… I lied.”

 ----------

 Steve woke up to find himself strapped to a surgical table with his feet at Banner’s head and Thor’s feet at his head. The three beds formed a triangle under massively bright lights. In the center stood a balding man in a white coat who was staring, hypnotized almost, at whatever findings he was reading on a holographic screen. “Imagine it,” he said out loud, and Steve wondered if the man knew he was awake. “The strength of the Hulk, the God of Thunder, and Captain America all in one being… Magnificent.”

 “Why don’t people just ask for samples of our blood,” Cap wondered, sarcastically, startling the man, “instead of taking it from us by force?”

 The balding man stepped over a few cords and approached Steve’s bed. “Would you have given it to me?” the man asked. Steve didn’t need to answer that question. “I am glad you’re awake. The other two – we must leave them unconscious – they’re too dangerous. But science is extra fun when there’s an audience to witness it. You, Captain, will be the audience for this experiment.” The balding man tipped his head to the side. “Can you move?”

 Steve had already tried. “What did you do to me?”

 Keane, was the man’s name. It said “Dr. Keane” on his lab coat. “Drained your blood. Rude, I know, but I can’t have you making any trouble. If you weren’t a superhuman you’d be quite dead by now. Astounding that your body can operate at all with two pints of blood in it.” Keane walked past Banner to a metal table and took a scalpel off it. He was grinning when he returned to Steve, whose eyes followed the scalpel down to the skin of his arm. “Do you feel this?” Keane asked as he dragged the scalpel across Steve’s inner forearm.

 Steve watched the blood blossom. It hurt like hell, but he was determined not to show it. Keane read his eyes, though, and laughed when he saw the pain in them. “You have to have a bit of a sadistic side to be a surgeon,” he said. “I have to admit… Part of me like this part the best. The patient awake, squirming, helpless – gives me a bit of an adrenaline high, I think. Hmm, should we experiment with that?” Keane reached across Steve and dragged the scalpel down that arm, too. His smile widened. “Yes, that makes me feel good.”

 Steve wished he had the energy to headbutt the man right then and there. “Where’s the rest of my team?”

 Keane chuckled. “You’re worried about your friends while I’m doing this to you?” Keane used the scalpel to cut through Steve’s uniform, revealing his chest. With the precision of an artist, he cut a heart-shaped incision into Steve’s chest, just above his actual heart. “I like this part, too. The part where I get to decide what happens next. Should I put one of Dr. Banner’s ligaments into your arm to see if it makes you stronger? Should I slice off a bit of Thor’s brain to see the magic in it? Or should I just have fun playing with you?” Steve couldn’t hold in a yelp when the scalpel suddenly stabbed into his abdomen, right between his ribs, nicking his left lung.

 “Oh boy,” said a new voice, and both Steve and Keane looked up at the ceiling. “You should not have done that.” In a flash of falcon wings, Sam descended from the ceiling just as Iron Man kicked down the door and Nat and Clint dropped from the windows. The roof shook. A laser sliced through, and War Machine crashed down right on top of Keane’s computer. The doctor truly must have been addicted to the sensation of causing pain to someone because in that moment – his last – he chose to stab the scalpel one more time, this time into Steve’s heart, which he did a second before three bullets from three different directions intercepted him.

 Cap screamed. He used what little energy he had to rip the scalpel out of his chest, a moment before he remembered that you were supposed to leave the damn thing in. He knew he was in trouble when the blood seeped instead of spouted. There was so little of it left… And he was suddenly so very tired… And his heartbeat was going so. Very. Slow…

 Tony appeared above him, suit-less. He was saying something, repeating Steve’s name, probably something comforting or encouraging. Steve was glad to have a friend with him in that minute as the rest of the blood drained from him. Steve took one last deep breath and finally – finally – allowed his eyes to close.

 ---------

 Tony was there again – still? – when Steve opened his eyes. He was looking at Cap with the same expression, saying his name again, asking questions Steve didn’t understand. Then people Steve didn’t know escorted Tony aside and doctors in lab coats started prodding him. Briefly, Steve thought that Keane had him again – still? – and almost lashed out at the similar lab coats. But then he heard Tony’s voice, still nearby, just out of eyesight, and he knew he was all right.

 Time passed. He drifted. And then Tony was there again with a smile and an ice cube. Cap had never been so thirsty in his life. “You’re in the hospital.” This time Steve understood Tony. “You’re ok.”

 Steve nodded. “You’re ok?” he croaked.

 Tony nodded. “Everything’s ok.”

 The End

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Nine:  Beauty and the Streets

A/N:  Hi, friends!  Look.  I’m just going to come out and say this now.  This is my favorite chapter title so far.  I don’t know why, but I love it so much.  So, reward my hard ass work with some validation.  Not to sound desperate, but fuuuuuuck.  Anyway, you know where I’ll be if you need me, k? x

ICYMI:  Chapter Eight:  The Power of Observation

I had a feeling deep in my bones that the training I’d have to go through in order to take over for the Old Man someday would be extensive.  There was bound to be parts of said training I wasn’t going to be all that big of a fan.  Being holed up in a dressing room of some ritzy ass department store?  Definitely securing a cozy spot in the top five.  I could feel the weird looks the second I walked in.  What the hell is a piece of shit like me doing in a place like this?  Am I the Old Man’s charity case?  Am I his sugar baby?  Are we even in here together?  Am I lost? At least with the door closed, no one can see me.  No one can cast their unnecessary judgment.

 “Hey, Old Man…” That didn’t mean my skin crawled any less, “Is this all really necessary?”

 “Yes,” he answered flatly.

 “But…!”

 “It’s non-negotiable, Frankie,” the Old Man put his foot down, “This girl deserves a little bit of effort, don’t you think?”

 “Yeah, but…”

 “I’m not hearing it, Frankie,” he shut me up, “Take your bitching elsewhere.  It’s barely a step up from what you already got.  You make it sound like you’re being forced to sleep in a three-piece suit.”

 “Top hat and tails,” I jabbed.

 “Alright, smartass,” the Old Man let that one slide.  Gracias a dios.  I thought he would’ve handed my ass to me for something like that, “Subtlety is key with anything.  Like this. It’s not a drastic change by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s just enough of an upgrade to make a slight impact.  If you work in layers with subtlety, the world is yours.  It’s like they say with the frog in the water.”

 “I’m not following you, Old Man.”

 “If you put a frog in boiling water,” he explained, “It’ll want to jump out immediately, right? Water’s too hot.”

 “Right.”

 “But,” he added, “If you put the frog in cold water and gradually heat it, the frog has no idea it’s being boiled alive.”

 “Things aren’t working out too well for the frog,” I noticed, “I feel him.”

 “How did your mama ever put up with you, Frankie?”

 “I had two older brothers that made me look better in comparison.  I’m the fucking golden child.”

 “Just…” I heard the Old Man lean against the wall, “Anything that doesn’t look like you got into a fight with a chain link fence.  Or just escaped prison.  I don’t ask much for you.”

 “Fine,” I rolled my eyes, fully dressed again.  Nothing had a hole in it.  Nothing had been fixed.  Everything was in its original state, “There.  Better?”

 “Considerably,” he approved.  But then, a woman came up behind him.  A real beauty, too.  Damn, Old Man…

 She started getting a little closer with him.  Her arms were wrapped around his.  Damn, Old Man…I see you, “How are you doing, Gregorio?  Do you need anything?”

 “I’m wonderful, sweetheart,” the Old Man put her hands up to his lips, “Thank you.  I appreciate it, but I think we got it handled.  Ok?”

 “Ok…” the woman floated away, heavily swooning.  I didn’t get it.  I mean, the Old Man wasn’t the worst looking creature in the world, but somehow, it was more than that.  

 “And that, my dear Frankie,” he threw an arm around me, “is how that’s done.”

 “What did you just do?” I wondered, still totally fucking dumbfounded.

 “You know how I told you to work in subtlety?”

 “Yeah.”

 “That’s how you work in subtlety,” the Old Man took great pride in his work.

 “How many do you got on the hook at once?” I asked.

 “On average?” he thought it over, “Probably four or five, depending on the day.  Would you ever guess I didn’t remember her name?”

 “You don’t even remember her name?” I gasped, “Damn, Old Man.  If you don’t mind me saying this, you’re a fucking hound.”

 “I do what I can,” the Old Man shrugged.

 “So,” I assumed, “That’s why you called her sweetheart.  It makes her feel all special and warm and fuzzy inside while simultaneously saving your own ass.”

 “You’re a quick study, kid,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

 “Thanks, Old Man,” I melted inside.  Just a little bit.

 “I got you taken care of,” the Old Man started pulling price tags off, “You go wait by the door, so they don’t think you’re stealing.”

 “Ok.” I wasn’t going to fight with him.  I’m pretty sure that receipt alone could pay next month’s rent.  That’s not a bill I need to see.  Chances are, I’d throw up.  This was way too fucking nice for someone like me.  I mean, I know it’s going to be me one day, but I didn’t think that one day would come this soon.  Surprises are neat.  And if I do say so myself, I look damn good…

 But none of that mattered. I was about to get the girl.  In a few short minutes, I was going to get the girl. I was going to have my second chance. Unless she stands me up or Veronica didn’t get to her in time or some bullshit like that.  Because that’s my level of cosmic luck.  I hoped to all things holy, unholy, and morally neutral that I’d be able to sit down at the Bean and see her walk in and suddenly have Sixpence None the Richer playing in the background for some ungodly reason. Because it fits.  That’s why.  

 “Hey, Frankie,” the Old Man started walking out.  I’m guessing it’s safe to follow him without setting off the alarms, “Where did you say you were taking this girl again?”

 “The Bean,” I told him, “Why?”

 “I like the Bean,” he smiled a bit, “It’s cozy, quaint, public.  Very old Williamsburg.  And if you go at the right time of the day, the people watching is excellent.”

 “That’s a little unsettling…”

 “It helps with the whole art of observation thing,” the Old Man threw the car door open, “But it’s a little late in the day for me to hit up the Bean.  Peak hours are between eight and nine.”

 “Why do you say that?” I wondered.

 “Old people and hipsters,” he giggled, “Hell of a mix.  The old people don’t know how to react to the hipsters.  The hipsters don’t know what to think of the old people.  The chaos is beautiful, kid.  Like watching art come to life.”

 “Hey, Old Man…” I could hardly sit still, “I…”

 “You’re nervous, aren’t you, Frankie?”

 I hate when he does that, “Yeah.  That obvious?”

 “To a well-trained eye,” he nodded, “What’s got you worried?”

 “What if she doesn’t show up?”

 “Then, you still got coffee today,” the Old Man settled me, “Then, you took yourself out.  It’s not a bad thing to be by yourself once in a while, Frankie.  I’m guessing you don’t get a lot of that.”

 “Not really,” I admitted. Now that I thought about it, I didn’t get much time to myself.  More often than not, I’d be with my brothers or I’d be with Mama or I’d be with someone. I was hardly ever alone.  I always thought that was a good thing.

 “Then, even if she doesn’t show up,” he assured me, “This is not all for naught.  And at the end of the day, you still need to come back to the Narrows.  I got a few places coming up on their collection dues and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not go do that.  For the plain and simple fact that I don’t want to.  That’s what I have you for.”

 “I know,” I sat and bounced my knee a little more, needing for this excess energy to go somewhere.

 “Tell you what, kid,” the Old Man put a hand on my shoulder, “If this doesn’t go over and you’re stuck here by yourself, we’ll scrap your collection job tonight and do something fun, k?”

 “Thanks, Old Man,” I smiled a bit, “I appreciate it.”

 “That’s what I’m here for,” the car pulled up to the curb.  Holy shit, that was fast, “Now, go on, Frankie.  Go make me proud.  Go get your girl.”

 “That was the plan,” I pushed myself out of the back of the Old Man’s town car and took a step toward the door.

 “Hold on!” the Old Man rolled his back window down.

 “Did you need something?” I wondered.

 “Here,” he peeled off a hundred and put it in my hand, “You don’t need to be running out of money while you’re here.”

 “Old Man…” I gasped, “I’m good.  This is a little…”

 “Nope,” the Old Man cut me off, “Don’t give me that.  Go on, kid. Go get your girl.”

 I looked back up at the Bean’s sign, but when I turned around to yell at the Old Man some more, he was already gone.  Dammit…Well…Here goes nothing.  I walked into the Bean and ordered an espresso and a chocolate chip cookie. Hopefully, the espresso will help calm my nerves a little.  Either that or it’s going to amplify them at least tenfold.  That’s the gamble I’m willing to make.  Please show up, Vanessa.  I don’t care if it’s to spit on my shoes.  I just need to see your face again.  The Old Man might be a little pissed about you spitting on brand new shoes, but I need to see that face.

 “Frankie…?” a husky, yet gentle voice came up behind me.

 Holy shit, it’s her. Yet…This was different.  I got a better look at her in the light.  Power of observation, just like the Old Man said. Slight rip in her jacket sleeve, designer bag, chai latte in her hand, and legs for days…Dios mio, “Yeah…Hi.”

 “Hi,” she smiled, glancing over at the empty seat, “Do you mind?”

 “Please,” I insisted, “Not at all.”

 “So,” Vanessa sat across from me, “I hear you met my little sister earlier this afternoon.”

 “I hear you met my oldest brother last night,” I retaliated with no intentions of getting so defensive. It’s just a default setting.  And now, I feel kind of bad.

 “I’m assuming he was your brother,” she thought, “He said his name was César and said his brother thought I was cute.”

 “Hold on,” I stopped her, “Did he specifically say Frankie or did he say Tony?”

 “He said Frankie,” she assured, “Promise.  But it wasn’t a half bad idea to use Veronica as a go-between.”

 “I wanted to ask you about that,” I told her, “What did you mean you had eyes on you last night?”

 “Just that,” Vanessa started to relax, “My sister.  Violet, not Veronica.  She’s a total fucking narc.  Veronica would take my secrets to the grave.  She knows about loyalty and solidarity between siblings.  Violet would sell me out to our mother for Costco samples.”

 “Hey…” I hushed her, “Don’t knock Costco samples.  Those are worth the membership.”

 “Sorry,” she sighed out, “Violet gets me stressed.”

 “Here,” I broke my cookie in half and handed the other half off to her, “You look like you could use this more than me.”

 “What are we, five?” Vanessa giggled.  I didn’t care about that.  All I needed was to get her to smile again.  I’d hate to see that go away.

 “So what if we are?”

 “Alright,” she gladly accepted my offer, “Frankie…There are some things about me…They’re not exactly desirable.”

 “Really?” I had a hard time believing she was into anything shady.  Considering my recent employment, I doubt she could surprise me, “Try me.”

 “My last name is Scarlotti,” Vanessa confessed, picking at the cardboard ring around her cup, “My family owns half this city.  It’s maddening.”

 “Wait,” I wondered, keeping my voice down, “Do you come from mafia?”

 “No,” she shook her head, “Nothing like that.  My family’s business is a lot more legit than that.  But it doesn’t make it any less like hell.”

 “What makes you say that?”

 “Well,” Vanessa sipped from her latte, “It’s the expectations that come along with it. It’s not so much my dad, but it’s my mother.  You’re Mommy’s perfect princess.  Her debutant. Every action you do immediately reflects on the family, Vanessa.  It’s just…It’s bullshit…And…I’m venting…I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to vent, but…I just…”

 “Vanessa,” I spoke softly, doing my best to calm her down, “It’s alright.”

 “Really?” her spiral slowed, “I’m not scaring you off or anything?”

 “Not at all,” I swore, “Trust me.  I’ve seen my fair share of hell.”

 “I know I should be grateful for the life I have,” she started working on her half of cookie, “Because it could always be worse.  That’s why Violet took me to Williamsburg last night.  She wanted me to see how much worse it could be.  But…”

 “But?” I wondered.

 “I love coming down to Williamsburg,” Vanessa smiled, “If I had my way, I’d live down here instead of the Upper East Side.  I love the little cafés and the clubs down here and…Just the pulse of the city.  It beats different down here than what it does up there.  Manhattan’s a different monster.  But something about coming down to Williamsburg…I have yet to find somewhere else in all five boroughs where I feel more comfortable than here.”

 “I know how you feel,” I gave her a nod, “I’ve lived in Williamsburg for as long as I can remember. But every once in a while, I wondered what it’d be like to live up in Manhattan.  The upper echelons.  The other half.  But at the end of the day, even if I did have the means to move uptown, I don’t think I could do it.  This is still home.  It always will be.”

 “I envy you…” she was quiet for a second, but then, she came to again, looking at me confused, “Why am I telling you all this?”

 “My mother always said I had one of those faces,” I shrugged, “Really and truly, Vanessa, it’s alright.  If you need to vent, then you need to vent.  It’s really not a problem.  Don’t worry about it.  If you want to vent, keep going.  If you want to change the subject, I totally understand.  I’ll leave it up to you.”

 “Better conversation topic please,” Vanessa decided, “Besides, I feel like all I’ve done since I sat down is ramble on about me.  I want to hear more about you.  I already know enough about me.”

 “But,” I caught a glimpse of a clock, not needing to go down the rabbit hole of my tragic backstory quite yet, “We don’t have much time together.”

 “Then…” The Old Man told me to keep an eye on someone’s hands.  What they do when they’re nervous.  Where they are.  But I suddenly found her hand in mine.  They’re…so soft, “We should make the most of the time we have together, shouldn’t we?”

 “What class are you leaving me for anyway?” I teased, hoping I didn’t cut too deep.

 “Communications,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Yay.”

 “You don’t need it,” I brushed her off, “I think you communicate just fine.  See?  And I didn’t even need a degree to tell you that.”

 “You’re cute,” she giggled a bit…That laugh…It’s fucking adorable, “As much as I’d love to believe you, I need this class.  Then, hello, graduation day…in two years.”

 “What’s your major?” I asked.

 “Law.” Holy shit, this girl’s going to be a fucking lawyer?  And she’s sniffing around me?  Oh, Vanessa, you are definitely the kind of girl that was put in my path at the right time.  That’s for damn sure, “I’m debating between going into estate planning or being a defense attorney.”

 “Why not both?” I suggested, “A girl like you.  You seem like your brain could handle it.”

 “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, “But I only have so much in the trust fund.  I need to spend it smart.”

 “I could think of worse ways to spend it,” I figured, “Could pick up a gambling problem…Cocaine…Maybe hookers, if you were feeling particularly spicy one night.”

 “No,” Vanessa laughed some more, “I’ll stick with an education, but thank you.  Your suggestions were greatly appreciated.”

 “If you don’t mind me asking,” I wondered, “Why the hell would you want to go into estate planning?”

 “Are you kidding?” her eyes lit up, sparkling more now than when we first met, “Do you know what kind of front row seat I’d have to some of the most knockdown, drag out family drama? Some of the families my family is connected to, when they’ve had major deaths that involve big wills…Oh, they’re fucking bloodbaths.  The closest of relatives are suddenly the worst of enemies.  Someone gets written out while they’re still alive.  It is an absolute disaster.  From a purely psychological standpoint, it’s fascinating to watch.  Kind of like watching animals at the zoo.  It’s amazing what lengths some people would go through for someone else’s money or their possessions after they’re dead.  It’s so pointless, but it’s still fun to watch.”

 “You know,” I started to worry about this girl and what kind of mental state she was in. However, she had a point.  And a damn good one, “That’s kind of twisted.”

 “I know,” she bit on her lip, “But I can’t help it.  I don’t start the drama, but I sure as hell don’t mind being the occasional spectator.”

 “That’s still kind of twisted…”

 “It’s the same principle as watching a soap opera,” Vanessa shrugged unapologetic, “Only it’s real life and in front of my eyes.”

 I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t watched my fair share of Telemundo with Mama over the years, so I got it, “I like you, Vanessa…”

 “I like you, too,” her smile melted me to my very core.  I think I could keep this one around.  For a little while anyway.  But then, she caught a glimpse of her watch, “Shit…I need to be going.  I hate to run, but…”

 “It’s alright,” I let it go, “I understand.”

 “Thank you,” Vanessa got up from her seat.  

 This was it.  I needed to shoot my shot and shoot it big. This time, I’m not blowing it, “Hey, Vanessa?”

 “Hmm?” she threw her bag over her shoulder.

 “Can I call you tonight?” I asked.

 “Sure,” Vanessa allowed, “How about around nine o’clock?  I should be home.”

 “If I can get a spare minute,” I nodded, “I have to work tonight.”

 “I really hope you do,” she played with a stray lock of her hair, “Because…I’m glad I gave you a second chance.”

 “I’m glad you gave me a second chance, too,” my heart started racing.  Damn near ready to burst out of my chest.

 “It was nice meeting you, Frankie,” Vanessa waved behind her.

 “You, too…” I hated to see her go…But damn, to watch that girl leave was like a work of art.

 Vanessa…She’s definitely something.  That’s for sure.  She’s definitely got some of that debutant in her.  There’s no doubt about it.  But there’s more.  There’s so much more.  There’s a sadist…There’s a sweetheart.  There’s a caged bird begging to be set free.  And if I’m the one to do that, then so be it.  I’d be happy to.  Now that I think about it, I really and truly hated to see her go.  It’s too bad we didn’t get to spend a little more time together.  She didn’t need to be late for her class.  

 And I got to share my cookie with her.  Not to be that guy about it, but I hadn’t shared a cookie with someone since I was probably five.  Dammit, Vanessa, you were right.  Go ahead, corazón.  I won’t stop you.  Now, what to do, what to do.  Dare I go back to the Narrows?  No.  I think I should head home first.  I’m sure someone’s worried about me.  I haven’t been home all day.  And I barely left a note for Tony and César.  Besides, they needed to know about her, too.

[lxaah11]

Why’s It Always Crystals? - Part 2 (ST:D x The Inhumans crossover)

Chris’ breath forcefully left his body as he slammed into the crevice wall with a loud crack, he had only been falling for a few seconds but he had already resigned himself to the world of pain he just knew he’d find himself in when he hit the bottom. At least he hoped that was what awaited him. The only other alternative he could imagine is dying on impact and, after everything he’d managed to live through, he really didn’t want the thing that killed him to be him losing his damn footing. He could still hear Burnham’s panicked voice echoing all around him, following him down into the darkness, yet he couldn’t quite process exactly what it was she was saying. The adrenaline coursing through his veins had forced his brain to filter out any extraneous sounds and, apparently, Michael fell under that remit. Not that it mattered anyway, he hadn’t yet been able to get his breath back and it felt like he wouldn’t for a while, so he wouldn’t have had a chance in hell of answering her. 

The crack he had fallen down was narrow enough that once he had hit the wall he stayed against it, his back scraping along the jagged surface of the wall taking the skin off as he fell. After a few more moments of free fall he, strangely enough, felt himself slowing down. Don’t get him wrong, he still felt like he had left his stomach up at the top with Burnham and saw no sign of the bottom of this pit, but he was definitely not falling as fast as he had been. The reason for this was not immediately clear if anything it had only become more baffling, as the wall he was sliding down appeared to smooth out the further down he went. It was only when he reached the bottom that he figured it out. The wall, which had been completely vertical when he first started falling, in fact, started sloping out near the bottom and continued to do so until it had become perfectly horizontal. It reminded him of an old playground ride he had only ever seen pictures of - a drop slide, he believed it was called. Affectionately nicknamed a ‘death slide’, and after what he had just experienced he could definitely see why. However, unlike those rides, this version did not have a long flat section for him to decelerate and, instead, stopped rather abruptly. He catapulted off the end and was sent skipping like a stone across the lake of water that had caused this natural phenomenon, before plunging into its icy depths.

With his lungs begging for the oxygen that they had been deprived of, he kicked towards the surface and found that the water was only a few feet deeper than he was tall. He swam over to the opening that he was shot out of, as he moved closer the water became shallower, allowing him to stand with his shoulders above the water as he called up to Michael, who was still shouting down after him.

 “I’m OK. Nothing broken at least.” He added with a chuckle.

“Sir?” A sigh of relief. “What’s down there? Can you see a way back up?”

Miraculously, the lights on his EV suit still worked. He observed the new cave that surrounded him, it didn’t look too different from the others he had just left. All he could see was a narrow tunnel branching off, carrying a ravine further into the rock, but nothing that indicated a way of returning to Burnham. He relayed this information back to her, hoping she’d be able to come up with a solution but also fully prepared to order her to carry on with the mission without him as he tried to make his own way to the surface.

“Captain, I have rappelling gear in my pack but the only anchor point up here doesn’t seem to be strong enough to support your weight, it will just crumble.”

“It’s ok Burnham, you carry on along the path. I’ll stay down here and- “

“With all due respect Captain,” Burnham interrupted showing no said respect, “I believe it best we stick together. We still don’t know anything about this energy source and these tunnels are treacherous, if we split up and one of us gets in danger then it could be lethal.”

Knowing she had a point, but not seeing another way Pike could only respond, “Well then, what would you suggest Commander?”

“The anchor is strong enough to support me, so I’ll make my way down to you-”

“No, Michael-”, Pike tried to interrupt when he realised what she was saying.

“-and we’ll carry on through the tunnel down there.”

“Michael, if you stay up there we know you can get out, you come down here and that is no longer the case. I wish there was another way but you have to leave me, that’s an order.”

There was a pause before Burnham’s voice echoed down to him again, “...I’m already on my way down sir.”

Pike could only sigh and contemplate how he really needed to start being less lenient with his officers, as it seemed to be a running theme that few of them listened to him in situations like this. He hopes that Burnham and Number One never meet, if they did he might as well resign his commission straight away, they would be unstoppable.

As he waited for Michael to reach him, he decided to try and scope out the tunnel that was now their only hope for escape. It was located at the point in the cave where the water was shallowest, only reaching his ankles, and was smaller than it seemed at first glance, just wider than himself and as tall as his waist, he could only cringe at the incoming pain that his back will inevitably feel. There was a scrape of boots over rock followed by a quiet splash as Burnham exited the crag and slipped into the water, she waded towards him and peered over his shoulder. Not even her years of living on Vulcan could help her hide the disgruntled sigh upon seeing the confined space they’d spend the next who knows how long making their way through. They shared a look before Chris, hopefully for the last time on this seemingly endless expedition, got down on his hands and knees and made his way into the tunnel with Michael joining him soon after. Only the sound of their breathing and the sloshing of the water, which wasn’t getting any shallower, could be heard - they both just wanted to get out and were too focused to try and attempt a meaningless conversation. For the first time since entering the caves they seemed to have caught a break, the tunnel seemed to be on a slightly upward trajectory and was hopefully taking them towards the surface. 

They’d been in the water for long enough that the cold had started to permeate through the suits thermal regulation system when they finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. He crawled with a renewed vigour, Michael following close behind, both eager to get back to Discovery or out of the caves at the very least. As he got closer the sound of running water began to echo around them, getting louder as they got closer until they finally reached the end. 

Pike once again found himself short of breath as he reached forward to continue to crawl and instead found that the ground was no longer where he expected and instead rapidly steepened to form another pool that he promptly, and rather ungracefully, fell into. Except this time the water was shallower than he was tall, it was only by sheer dumb luck that he didn’t whack his head on the rock below and instead landed flat on his back, adding to the already long list of reasons he isn’t going to be able to move tomorrow. He sat up, spluttering as he broke the surface only to be greeted with Michael chuckling as she contorted herself so she could enter feet first, having learnt from his mistake. Chris could only self-deprecatingly smile at her as she offered her hand to help him up, which he gratefully accepted. 

Having recovered from his unexpected swim, he was finally able to take in their new surroundings and he very quickly found the source of the light. His heart sank. A beam of light from the surface entered yet another cave through a gap in the ceiling, after which it bounced off the multitude of crystals that lined the edge of the pool, illuminating the darkness. Both Pike and Burnham looked around in awe, so distracted that they both startled when Tilly’s voice disturbed the quiet they had been in for what must have been hours.

  “Captain, Michael? I don’t know what you just did but the readings we’re getting have just got even larger and I didn’t think that was even possible. Is there anything new around you that looks like it could be the source?”

“We’ve ended up in a cavern full of crystals, Ensign, we’ll take a sample and bring it back to Discovery for further analysis. Can you get a transporter lock on us?”

“Affirmative Captain, we can be ready to beam you out at a moment's notice.” A pause. “Well, maybe a bit more than a moment, we are getting some slight interference - nothing to worry about but it’ll take a bit longer to actually get you out of there.”

“Thank you, Ensign, I’ll let you know when we need to beam out.” Pike replied, “With more than a moment's notice.” He added with a smile.

Burnham started to take some readings from the cave, to look for any sign as to what these crystals were and where they came from. As she did this Pike pulled out a laser cutter and knelt to take a sample, the moment he started cutting through the crystal is when things started going wrong. A white mist started to hiss out from the crystal, quickly beginning to fill the cave. As Pike staggered backwards trying to get away from the mist, Burnham’s scanner started going crazy.

“Captain, the readings I'm getting are showing that this gas is potentially toxic,” Burnham reported as she hit the button to activate her helmet. Pike went to follow suit, only to find that at some point during one of his numerous falls the mechanism had malfunctioned. By this point the mist had already filled over half the cave, it was being emitted faster than it could escape. Pike knew immediately he only had seconds, a minute maximum before there would be no clean air left to breathe.

Shaking his head at Burnham to try and convey his predicament he commed up to Discovery, “Ensign, I know I promised a moment’s notice but we need to beam out of here now.” He tried to keep his voice level but inside he was panicking. He had gotten out of so many sticky situations, come back after being hurt so many times but right now he couldn’t see a way out.

“We’re trying Captain but the interference has dramatically increased, we need more time.”

Pike didn’t reply.

The mist had filled the cave. Pike was holding his breath for as long as possible trying to give the Discovery crew as long as possible to get them out of there. But his lungs were burning. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Distantly he could hear a panicked Burnham communicating with Tilly, trying to get them out of here.

“Beam us up! We need to get out of here now, beam us - “

Pike breathed in.

[sandershospitalau]

Familiar Faces

(Trigger Warnings- Remus, Deceit, Attempted suicide, gangs, mentions of death/kidnappings, flashbacks)

Archive Of Our Own

————————

“Don’t get me wrong, sir, I know I’m gonna need some help starting out,” Nurse Venzon stammered as they padded through the halls of Sanders Hospital beside Virgil. “I’m just surprised that the director of nursing decided to be the one to help me.”

“We need all the good nurses we can get,” Virgil huffed, shrugging. “Until we can get the politicians to cancel that stupid nursing education bill, good hires are gonna be rare. Sanders Hospital needs to make sure its new hires can actually do their jobs.”

“Oh,” Nurse Venzon said, pursing their lips and staring straight ahead. “Alrighty then.” The two nurses looked like pale, lanky, purple sticks as they walked down the halls.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Virgil sighed, a tiny smirk he was pretty sure counted as comforting twitching on the edge of his mouth. “Like you said, you’re just starting out. Someone’s gotta show you the ropes.”

“Right,” Nurse Venzon said, nodding. The pair of nurses hugged the wall as a bed whisked past them, surrounded by residents and attendings. Nurse Venzon’s saucer sized eyes followed the bed. Their head spun around trying to see the bed all the way down the hall. Virgil’s smirk grew. The untapped excitement of a nurse fresh out of nursing school was always a treat.

“So we’re almost to Ms. Sutherland’s room,” Virgil explained, glancing at the room number behind him. “As the newbie, you’ll be stuck with grunt work. That means lab results, samples, prostate examines- well, probably not the last one with Ms. Sutherland.” Nurse Venzon nodded along to everything Virgil said. “When the doctor’s in the room, they usually control the scene, but you’re the one who’ll be with her more. But you heard all this in your orientation, so I won’t get into more details.”

“Got it,” Nurse Venzon chirped, bouncing on their toes.

“So,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Tell me about our patient.”

“But don’t you already know about her?” Nurse Venzon asked.

“I know her,” Virgil muttered. “I want to know if you do. Talk to me like you’re the expert on her and I’m the newbie.”

“Ok,” Nurse Venzon huffed, shaking out their hands. “Our patient is Natasha Sutherland, female, she/her, age fifty-two. She’s been seen at Sanders numerous times over the last few years for treatment involving her chronic back and neck pain. The pain is linked back to damage gained during her service in Iraq. A lot of her forms had St. Gemma’s insignia on them, so I believe she used to get treatment there until the VA stopped helping her. Lately the pain’s increased to a point where her usual home therapy isn’t working, so she’s opting for a surgical solution.”

“Good job,” Virgil said, pushing himself off the wall. “Let’s go meet her.” Virgil had to admit, as he padded down the hall with Nurse Venzon, a new case was as good of a break as he could get from the Nurse’s Rally. He’d been running all over the hospital, getting signatures from nurses to participate in the rally. Even though Roman was helping head up public announcement of the protest, Virgil had been interviewed enough times to last for the rest of his life. And then there were the semi-decent politicians emailing Virgil constantly about their support or ‘respectful disagreements’ with the upcoming march. Being a public figure was exhausting. How did Roman do it?

“Then how else do you suggest I relax?” a voice that sounded similar to General Leia Organa muttered through a half open door.

“Watch TV?” another voice suggested. “Maybe Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I’m in the hospital and you want to watch Grey’s Anatomy,” the first voice scoffed. “Of course.” Virgil tried not to roll his eyes when he realized that was Ms. Sutherland’s room. He knocked on the door and pulled it open completely.

“Ms. Sutherland?” he called into the room. Ms. Sutherland’s room was one of the smaller ones in Sanders, but it was big enough for her bed, the two nurses, and the chair beside the bed where her guest sat. Ms. Sutherland had close cut, traditionally masculine, sandy hair mixed with spots of gray. Her muscled arms rested on her lap. Her face had enough sharp features to cut paper, with vibrant cheekbones, a sharp tipped nose, and small lips. If Virgil was asked to pick out who he thought was a soldier out of a crowd, he would pick this woman. The person in the chair beside her looked to be a few years older, with more gray in his long brown hair. His hair was pulled into a loose ponytail. It touched the collar of his dark blue sweater and made him look like a sailor. He had the same sharp nose as Ms. Sutherland, but with softer cheeks and a pair of circular glasses dangled precariously on the edge of his nose.

“Just call me Natasha,” Ms. Sutherland huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “There’s too many Ms. Sutherland’s in my family as it is.”

“Whatever you prefer,” Virgil sighed. “My name’s Nurse Lawson, and this is Nurse Venzon. You’ll be seeing a lot of us during your stay here.” Nurse Venzon waved to Natasha.

“Nurse Lawson,” the man in the chair mumbled. He glanced up at Virgil. His eyes scanned the nurse up and down. A smile formed on his lips.

“Uh…” Virgil said. “Yep. That’s my name.”

“Hank, the little games you play with people aren’t helpful now,” Natasha sighed. The man, Hank, pushed the chair back and stood up.

“Now isn’t life strange,” Hank chuckled. “You dyed your hair since we met. I’m guessing you don’t recognize me?”

“Uh, no, sorry,” Virgil said, shaking his head. Hank chuckled, picking at the sleeves of his sweater.

“Would this jog your memory?” he asked. His bulky fingers slipped his left sleeve up, wrist out to the nurses. Long pink scars trailed up his wrists. Some were poorly healed, picked and scabbed into permanent markings, while the longest of the bunch were fainter, the mark of a doctor’s help. “The doctors at St. Gemma’s did a good job.” The memories clicked into Virgil’s head in an instant.

————————

(Years prior...)

Virgil Lawson would never understand how anyone in their right mind could have hired Remus for their maintenance staff. The man could easily have been Oscar the Grouch's long lost brother. Who escaped from prison. And then burned down Sesame Street. With every day, Virgil became more and more certain that the big brass of St. Gemma's were utter idiots.

"I mean, isn't that sort of blood more sanitary than other blood?" Remus asked. He leaned against his janitor's cart as he walked alongside Virgil. His mop dragged behind him, leaving a long wet trail on the tiled floor. "Vampires should use that blood! It's perfect for the lesbian vampires, isn't it?"

"Ok, you need to stop," Virgil grunted. Remus simply laughed and stroked his greasy mustache. Virgil kept his hands in the pockets of his black scrubs. Why the scrubs for the psychiatric nurses were black, Virgil would never understand. It made him seem less like a helpful hand and more of a grim servant of death. Not that he didn't like black, it was easily one of his favorite colors, but who's heard of black scrubs? Even Remus had a better color scheme with his dark green janitor's jumpsuit and the blue flowery logo of St. Gemma's stitched onto the chest.

"I don't see why I should stop!" Remus snorted. "You're the one who brought up vampires! I'm just suggesting places to get blood!"

"I'm not using actual blood for my vampire costume," Virgil huffed. "Do you realize how unsanitary that would be?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Remus laughed. Virgil groaned softly. He'd walked into that one, yet again.

"Unless you want Nurse Patty to throw down on you, I suggest you head off," Virgil sighed, stopping beside the third-floor elevators. "I'm heading to the psychiatry department."

"What fun awaits you there?" Remus chirped. He stuffed his mop into the bucket of murky water attached to his cart.

"Jumper watch," Virgil muttered as the elevator beeped and the doors slid open. Virgil padded to the corner of the large elevator. Remus boarded alongside him.

"Oof," Remus groaned. He leaned both elbows against the rails lining the elevator. "Details?" Virgil's guts hurt as he gave into Remus's demands. This was the most fragile moment of someone's life, and he was sharing it like it was no big deal. But what could he do? Remus was unstoppable when he wanted something. It was better to give him what he wanted. It would save Virgil a world of trouble.

"Overdose," Virgil mumbled. "Plus wrist damage. His sister found him. He's physically stable, but not emotionally."

"So you're his babysitter for the night!" Remus chuckled. "Fun times all around! You might be able to catch a few ZZZs while you're there. Your eyes are particularly dark and stormy tonight." Remus leaned over and booped Virgil's nose.

"Yeah, you try explaining to three different families that their loved one's treatment isn't working," Virgil snapped, rubbing his nose. The elevator beeped, and the doors opened up. "Now go. Not to say seeing you get chewed out by Patty wouldn't make my day, but I'm too tired to deal with that crap. Go clean the pediatric waiting room, there's always some kid vomiting in there." Virgil shoved past Remus and left the elevator.

"Whatever you say, oh dear Anxiety!" Remus chirped. He gave Virgil a melodramatic bow as the elevator slid shut.

"Don't-" Virgil snapped, but the elevator was already closed. "Don't call me that." Virgil shivered as cold air brushed past him. He rubbed his pale arms, wishing he'd grabbed his hoodie before coming up. He stalked away from the elevators and into the guts of the St. Gemma's psych department.

Most of the psych department was devoted to therapy and medication. Offices dotted the off-tan walls between informational and inspirational posters. Each office was the shiny face of the emotional dumpster fires that lurked in the long-term patient rooms beyond. Most of the offices were dark now- after all, who would schedule a session for the middle of the night? Virgil continued on, blocking out the muffled shouting that he drew closer and closer towards.

A single window looked into each of the tan rooms. In this department, patients often lacked privacy privileges. Virgil kept his gaze forward as he repeated the room's number in his head. He tried not to flinch when he heard a muffled scream bounce through the walls and when his fellow psych nurses scurried past him. He was used to the panicked screams of patients with brain damage and deep, difficult mental illness. Why should he be as jumpy as a visitor? His shoulders tightened, and he continued on.

His patient's room was towards the end of the department, near the hallway window that led to the fire escape. Naturally, bars covered the window. Virgil tried to drop his shoulders and knocked on the door.

"Come in," a familiar voice inside said. Virgil gritted his teeth, frowning, and entered. Harsh yellow lights flickered around the room. Like most of the rooms in the psychiatry department, the tan walls and white tiled floors were mostly barren. There was a TV that stood higher than any person of normal height could reach, with a matted recliner in the corner. A small stand sat beside the bed pressed against the wall. Virgil's patient, Hank Dragon (Virgil thought they were pulling his leg when he read the name), laid in the white bed, IVs trailing to his arms. His hair was a sweaty brown mess streaked with gray that reached the base of his neck. His small eyes were focused on Virgil. Had he already come down off the high caused by his medication? Was he staring off into space where Virgil conveniently stood? When Virgil moved to the side of the room, Hank's eyes followed him. Alright, he was definitely looking at him. He was also glancing at the doctor who stood by his bedside.

The doctor's black hair was smoothed back against his head with hair gel. A few dots of black paint sprinkled his doctor's coat. A perfectly straight black bowtie sat under his neck against his yellow polo. Blue rubber gloves stretched over his thin, still hands (at least he wasn't wearing those dishwasher gloves of his or, God forbid, the bowler hat). Then again, perhaps the bowtie was meant to distract patients from the wrinkled, scarred skin trailing down the left side of the doctor's face. It snuck under his collar and snaked around his face, claiming his ear and turning strains of his black hair brown. A brown eye and a golden eye scanned the numbers appearing on Hank's main monitor.

"What's up, doc," Virgil scoffed, leaning against the door with crossed arms. Dr. D looked up.

"Ah, Nurse Lawson," Dr. D sighed. "You're here."

"I'm sorry, was I not wanted at this exact moment?" Virgil laughed, grinning.

"Mr. Dragon, this is Nurse Lawson," Dr. D explained. "He'll be keeping you company, now that he's finally decided to grace us with his presence." Dr. D padded around the bed and towards Virgil. Hank's eyes followed him across the room. Virgil kept his fists from clenching as the doctor approached. "I trust you've been filled in on Mr. Dragon's medical details."

"I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't," Virgil huffed.

"Regardless, if you need any refreshers, you've got his board," Dr. D sighed. The board he was referring to was on the wall to Virgil's left. It was a rectangular whiteboard with various columns of information. Patient name, medication schedules, admittance, and other info. Stuck in the corner of the board were the words 'Watch- Virgil Lawson', scribbled under the medication schedule. "Goodnight, Mr. Dragon. Virgil." Virgil scooted away as Dr. D opened the door. His coat flapped behind him as the door clicked closed.

“Hank Dragon,” Virgil gasped softly as Hank slipped his sleeve back over his scars.

“What are you doing, Hank?” Natasha huffed.

“Tasha, you’ve got a great nurse taking care of you,” Hank laughed. He strolled over to Virgil and slapped his shoulder. “I can’t believe it! Virgil Lawson, treating a Sutherland kid once again!”

“Oh, are you siblings?” Nurse Venzon piped in, their wide eyes bouncing between Hank and Virgil.

“My older brother changed his last name shortly after he moved away from home,” Natasha explained. “I would like some clarification, Hank. When did Nurse Lawson treat you?”

“Well, Natasha,” Virgil said, picking at the inside of his scrub pockets. “The night after your brother’s… his, uh-”

“Hank and I don’t mince words,” Natasha sighed. “You can say attempted suicide. Words only have power when you give them that power.”

“Well, when he went to St. Gemma’s, I was assigned to his case,” Virgil explained.

“Lawson here helped my feet find solid ground!” Hank laughed, shaking Virgil’s shoulder. “Spent the whole night in my room chatting with me.”

“I see,” Natasha said, eyebrows raised. “Your help was greatly appreciated, Nurse Lawson.”

“Sorry, Tasha, I can’t get over this,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head. “We need to catch up! You know, see how our lives have gone since then!”

“I’m sort of working right now,” Virgil said, pointing at Natasha.

“Right, right,” Hank laughed, letting go of Virgil. “You got a lunch break or something? We could have lunch, my treat! You like ramen?”

“How do you think I survived nursing school?” Virgil scoffed.

“I know this ramen place, it’s not that far from the hospital,” Hank said. “We can eat there! What do you say?”

“How about we check on your sister first?” Virgil said, pointing towards Natasha. “Nurse Venzon?”

“So Natasha,” Nurse Venzon chirped, squeezing past the two men, finally given a chance to do something. “Let’s get your information updated.” Nurse Venzon’s words left Virgil’s conscious train of thought as Hank settled back into his seat. He hadn’t thought of Hank Dragon in a long time. That offer of ramen sounded a bit too good to resist.

————————

"Someone needs to teach that man some bed-side manners," Hank muttered as Dr. D closed the door to his room. His half-focused eyes trailed onto Virgil, following his every move.

"That’s just how he is," Virgil huffed. He trudged across the room and sat on the arm of the matted recliner. Hank let out a soft bark of laughter.

"The man needs to find another job, then," he muttered.

“Do you want to find something on TV or keep insulting Dr. D?” Virgil grumbled, cocking his head towards the TV.

“Dr. D,” Hank mumbled, shaking his head. “Dr. D. Doesn’t he have a name?”

“Of course he has a name,” Virgil snapped.

“Then what is it?” Hank asked. Virgil grabbed the TV remote sitting on the nightstand and flicked on the TV. America’s Funniest Home Videos popped onto the screen without sound. “Turn it off. I wanna sleep.” Hank closed his eyes and rested his head so he faced away from Virgil.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Virgil huffed, stalking around the bed. He crouched to Hank’s level and shook his shoulder. “You still have a cocktail of drugs you need to work out of your system. No sleeping for you.”

“I woke up at four this morning,” Hank sighed, turning his head to the TV. “Can’t I take a five minute nap?”

“You could try,” Virgil scoffed. He settled back on the arm of the couch. “But then I’d have to break out the airhorn.”

“There are other patients on this floor,” Hank scoffed. “You won’t wake them up.” Dang it. Even with half-focused eyes, Hank saw right through Virgil. The nurse let his mind wander as the TV played clips of crying toddlers and old ladies slipping on front porches. He’d had his fair share of sleepless nights, but being stuck in this room watching Hank would be a bit more difficult. Perhaps Virgil could ask one of the nurses to bring him some coffee. If the other nurses didn’t fear him, maybe. Remus would probably bring him coffee. On the other hand, Remus in a room with a suicidal person was a recipe for disaster.

“Are there photos?” Hank asked, not looking at Virgil.

“Considering I’m not a mind reader, you’ll have to be more specific,” Virgil huffed.

“They take photos during surgery, don’t they?” Hank asked. “For records, or something? Can I see the photos from my surgery? I’d check the results myself, but…” Hank lifted his right arm barely an inch off the bed before it fell back down. Thick bandages wrapped around his wrist.

“That’s not happening,” Virgil grunted.

“Alright,” Hank sighed. Virgil bit his tongue as questions hopped around his head. Hank didn’t need any stupid questions. All he needed from Virgil was a watching eye to keep him safe.

“I do have another request though,” Hank said.

“If it’s something that involves me leaving the room, no,” Virgil muttered.

“The new episode of Grey’s Anatomy is on tonight,” Hank said. “I thought I wasn’t going to see another one. Considering I’m still kicking, might as well watch it.”

“Now that’s something I can do,” Virgil said. He flicked through the TV channels, news stations and cartoons and ads flashing by. He settled on ABC, which was in the middle of a Grey’s Anatomy trailer. Half an hour later, the show’s theme played through the room. In a few ways, this was a good improvement to Hank’s condition. He was looking forward to something, even though it was something so small. Like Virgil always reminded himself, tough love worked. Even if it hurt.

“No way,” Remy gasped, pulling off his sunglasses for dramatic effect. “No. Way. In. Hell.”

“It’s a small world, I guess,” Virgil sighed, leaning against the counter of Remy’s little cafe. Remy’s brown satchel sat bundled on the counter beside the cash register just behind a glass tip jar. His little coffee shop name tag clung to his white shirt and a dark stain clung to his jeans (the mishaps of coffee).

“You’re drowning me with tea,” Remy chirped, an almost wicked smile spreading across his face. “So he’s here now? Not at St. Gemma’s?”

“His sister’s here,” Virgil explained. He drummed his fingers against the counter top. “He’s here to keep her company.”

“And you didn’t recognize the sister’s name when you got assigned to her or whatever?” Remy asked.

“It’s not like we exchanged contact information back then,” Virgil huffed. “Besides, his last name is Dragon, and hers is Sutherland.”

“Dragon,” a voice at the back of the little cafe scoffed. “That sounds like the name of a basement dweller with a D&D addiction.” The other person working with Remy turned around with a cup of fresh coffee in his hands. He too had an obsession with wearing sunglasses indoors, those his were circular and more like tiny mirrors attached to his face. He wore black leggings and an all-black long-sleeved shirt. A black yarn shawl wrapped around his neck, strings climbing over his shoulders.

“That’s quite the criticism coming from a dude we only know as ‘The Critic’,” Virgil scoffed, putting air quotes around the name.

“Dr. Sanders knows my name,” The Critic chuckled, grabbing a sharpie and scribbling a name onto the coffee cup.

“Yeah, cause he’s our boss,” Virgil huffed. “You can’t exactly get hired without a name. You’re the director of food services, why are you even here?”

“Exactly, Francis,” The Critic said. He strolled beyond the counter and towards the sea of seats filled with cafe customers.

“That’s not my-” Virgil snapped, but the Critic was already gone. “What does that mean? Remy, what does that even mean?”

“Whatever,” Remy chuckled. “Your order’s almost ready. You’ve got a lunch date to get to.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Virgil groaned, elbows on the counter, head in his hands. “This is weird enough as is. I mean, this isn’t what being a nurse is like. Most of the time, you take care of a patient and you never see them again. Now I’m supposed to go get ramen with this guy?”

“You agreed to it,” Remy scoffed.

“I agreed to it,” Virgil groaned. Remy slid a cup across the counter.

“Just relax,” Remy sighed. “If he’s a weirdo, you can pull out that kung-fu of yours and deal with him. Take a break, and enjoy the free food.” Virgil took the cup and handed over a few bills. He dropped $5 in the tip jar and stalked towards the exit.

Maybe Remy was right. Virgil had been working through lunch the past few days on the rally. Maybe this would be good for him. It was just lunch. Lunch with a stranger. Virgil should have grabbed his hoodie- things were always better with a bit of his mom’s flannel at his side.

————————

“You haven’t asked yet,” Hank said halfway through the new episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

“Asked what?” Virgil asked, glancing at the man.

“All day, people have been asking me the same question,” Hank grumbled. “‘Why’d you do it, Hank? Why’d you try to throw your life away?’” Hank gently waved his unbandaged arm in the air. “You haven’t asked me yet. Waiting for the right words to say?”

“I haven’t met many people who self harm or try to commit suicide that want people to pry into their darkest moments,” Virgil scoffed. “My job is to make sure you don’t try it again. It’s not to figure out why you did it.”

“Eh,” Hank chuckled. “That’s fair.”

“My only question is why you want to watch a medical drama when you’re literally in a hospital,” Virgil muttered, waving a hand at the TV. Hank laughed again, the same sort of soft, short bark he did before.

“You do have a sense of humor, don’t you, Nurse Lawson?” Hank chuckled. “Tasha would have said the same thing.”

“Who’s that?” Virgil asked, sliding into the body of the comforter.

“Tasha’s my little sister,” Hank explained, a tiny smile emerging. “She’s a lieutenant, fighting back ISIS and such over in the Middle East. Well, not right now. She’s finished a tour of service, came home last week.” The barely living smile slipped away. “Memory’s a little foggy. Pretty sure she found me. I think I forgot she was home again.”

“There’s always a catch in plans,” Virgil muttered. “Guess you should, you know, never try it again.”

“Heh,” Hank sighed. “You’re probably right.” The empty space in the room filled with the soft tunes of whatever indie song was playing over the surgery on TV. “I don’t think I help Tasha’s army credentials a lot.”

“That’s not how the army works,” Virgil huffed, totally unsure of his statement. “They don’t care about someone’s sibling.”

“Even if that sibling is a criminal?” Hank scoffed. Virgil’s entire body tensed. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t murder. I ran with some gangs in my past. Some time in jail sorted me out. Can you turn off the TV?”

“What, no more Grey’s Anatomy?” Virgil asked, restoring his false air of confidence.

“No one knows the full story,” Hank muttered. “Not even Tasha. She doesn't know everything I did. I just want someone to know. I'm sick of keeping everything in. It's made me sick. ” That was all Virgil needed. He flicked the TV off and hopped off the recliner. He rolled his shoulders, even though that didn’t help his terrible posture.

“Alright then,” Virgil huffed. “Spill it.”

“You want all the details?” Hank asked. “They aren’t all pretty.”

“I want the full story,” Virgil growled, glaring down at Hank. He’d do whatever Hank needed to recover. After all, he wasn’t the only person in the world burdened by all the hidden details of a life story. Virgil was in the same boat. Even if Virgil had no one to confess to, he would give Hank someone.

Virgil pushed open the door to the ramen shop. The wall beside the door was a large mural of a cartoon alligator slurping on a bowl of ramen. The words ‘Gator Noodles’ stretched over the alligator’s face. The theme song of an anime Virgil couldn’t remember played over the speakers. Servers stalked around the square pale wood tables with trays of deep bowls filled with soy sauce soaked ramen. Rich afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows facing the street. Pastel colors covered the restaurant, like Virgil was stepping into a children’s anime. Virgil’s mouth watered as soon as the bell on the door chimed and the smell of soy sauce hit his nose.

Hank sat at a booth against the wall, closest to the bathrooms. He flipped through the pages of a gray paperback book. His fingers tapped against the table to the rhythm of the song overhead. With the basics of kung-fu going through his head, Virgil approached Hank’s table. The former patient noticed Virgil before he got there.

“You came!” Hank laughed, his voice still retaining the barky laughter from that night in St. Gemma’s. Hank slid a menu into his book and stood up.

“You invited me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling very out of place in his scrubs. He really, really should have changed.

“Tasha was certain you wouldn’t show up,” Hank chuckled. “Sit down, sit down.” Hank slid back into the booth. Virgil shoved himself into the other seat and quickly grabbed a menu pressed under a metal stand of sauces.

“I didn’t recognize you when I saw you again,” Hank admitted. “The purple hair threw me off.”

“Yeah, uh, I started dying it a while back,” Virgil said, self-consciously pulling at a few strains of his hair.

“Check this out,” Hank said. He pushed his book across the table. It was a gray cover with prison walls near the bottom that read ‘Locked In.’ “You’d be surprised how many criminals have written books. This is only one of the books I picked up after we met. Never was much of a book guy, but it gave me something to do.”

“Good for you,” Virgil said, nodding. He glanced around the restaurant, hoping someone would come by and take his order.

“You seem happier,” Hank remarked. He slipped his book into his lap. “Less… I dunno, dark?”

“How much do you even remember about me?” Virgil asked, squinting.

“I’ll be honest, there are parts of that night that are totally lost,” Hank chuckled. He rested one elbow on the table and waved his hand around like a joystick. “But you? You are preserved in perfect detail. I mean, you’re the first person I ever really talked to about my issues.”

“I’m someone people can vent to,” Virgil sighed, shrugging.

“I know that now, but here’s the thing,” Hank huffed, pointing at Virgil. “You did not look all that welcoming. The black scrubs you nurses wore made you look more like angels of death.”

“St. Gemma’s is idiotic like that,” Virgil sighed.

“Sanders seems to be a good fit for you,” Hank sighed. “St. Gemma’s was fine and all, had some great care and fancy techniques, but you feel more human at Sanders, you know?”

“I know,” Virgil sighed, smiling.

“There was something off about half the folks there,” Hank chuckled. “Like that doctor who did my surgery, the one with the scars on his face.”

“Dr. D,” Virgil muttered.

“Right!” Hank barked. His hands soared around him in giant windmill patterns. “It’s still a weird name, even after all these years.”

“Are you ready to order now?” a server popped out of nowhere beside the booth, notepad in hand. Finally. Virgil pointed to the miso ramen dish on the menu, while Hank ordered the shoyu ramen. The server disappeared as quickly as they appeared.

“Alright,” Virgil sighed. “The question’s been on my mind all day, and I’m pretty sure you’ve answered it by now, but- how are you doing?”

“Well, it’s been an uphill battle,” Hank admitted, resting his wild hands. “I fiddled around with medication to help me until I decided to drop it all together and try something else. I’ve been seeing a therapist once a week, probably spent enough on therapy to cover those med school bills I hear so much about. Tasha’s been a big help too.” Virgil nodded softly. His insides churned. Even talking to him as a patient was easier than this. How was he expected to respond? Virgil just tried to settle his insides and make the ramen cook faster.

————————

“I’ll be fair, I’m not a storyteller,” Hank sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Most of this probably won’t make sense. Should I start at the beginning?”

“It’s your story,” Virgil muttered. Hank closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. For a moment, thoughts of Hank falling asleep and not waking up flooded Virgil’s head. But Hank opened his eyes again and started telling the story.

“I wasn’t a poor kid growing up,” Hank explained. “My family had cash, enough to live in one of the nicer parts in this city. Tasha was born a year after me, so we basically grew up together. I think my parents had the idea that I’d join the military out of college, maybe be a Navy guy like my dad. Tasha was always more like him, though. I took after Mom. More domestic, kinda, since I liked cleaning and cooking and whatnot. God, I loved cooking. Loved running around the kitchen. Didn’t make me a popular kid, though. Tasha and I really just had each other in school. She was the one who stood up to people for me.” Virgil couldn’t hide a little grin. After all, he’d been like that too- knitting and stitching and playing with whatever scraps of cloth he could find in his free time. But when was the last time he knitted something?

“When I started high school, Tasha was only in the eighth grade,” Hank continued.

“So you didn’t have any friends?” Virgil finished the thought.

“Right on the nose,” Hank sighed. “For the first part of the year, at least. Without Tasha, I didn’t know what to do with myself. No one talked to me after the first day. Eventually I made a friend, a guy I thought was a loner like me. Other guys like us migrated towards him. If you were a weirdo that everyone ignored, you had a place in our little group. You lost your mom and you’re angry at everyone around you? Come join us, we’re gonna drink on the beach. Everyone insult you for bad grades? Grades don’t matter when you’re skateboarding down the street. That’s right, I was a skater boy.” A dull ache swirled through Virgil. The ache had been with him since he graduated nursing school and got his job at St. Gemma’s. It was that ache that discovered St. Gemma’s, in a convoluted way. “I was an absolute idiot in high school.”

“Most people are,” Virgil muttered.

“That’s fair,” Hank admitted. “I think I took the cake, though. Most high school idiots stayed out past curfew or went to a few crazy parties. Meanwhile, my friends and I decided to get initiated into a gang of heartless little- like i said, stupid.”

“These guys were the only friends you had, right?” Virgil asked. “I can see anyone getting themselves into that situation. Doesn’t make you stupid.” Something clawed at Virgil’s chest. He ignored it for the moment.

“I was ruining my life and I didn’t even know it,” Hank scoffed. “Even after Tasha got to high school, I was long gone. I was out all night doing drug deals and pushing people around and playing with stolen guns. I stopped getting bullied. I thought I found people who cared about me. I got pretty good at running from the cops. I was having fun.” Hank’s good hand moved towards his bandage. Virgil grabbed his wrist and set Hank’s arm back to his side, gripping his wrist just a bit too tight. The arm was limp in Virgil’s grip.

“Don’t mess with your bandages, ok?” Virgil sighed. “We need to let them heal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank huffed, squeezing his eyes shut. “It took me till after high school, when Tasha was just getting ready to graduate from West Point, to snap out of it. Ya see, that friend of mine dragged me into a kidnapping. It was some kid, not that much younger than I was when I joined. He said the kid was just collateral, some junkie owed us cash or whatever. He had nothing to do with anything, he didn’t deserve to get hurt. I got out of there as soon as I could, and I dialled 911. Heh, imagine what that operator was thinking. ‘Yes, hi, I would like to report a kidnapping. I just kidnapped a child and would like to return him please.’” Hank let out a bark of laughter. “I don’t think I said that exactly, but something like that.”

“Geesh,” Virgil groaned.

“I sat out there, waiting for the cops to show, and when they did, I brought them in,” Hank explained. “The guy I spent all of high school with, thought he was my best friend, he pulled a gun on me. Got shot in the shoulder for his troubles. Since I helped find the kid, I got some deals, so I got sent to a different prison than my friend and a shorter sentence. My parents stopped talking to me after that, which I honestly deserved. Tasha was the only one who stuck around. She’s too good for me.” Scenarios danced through Virgil’s head. Hank sitting in jail, Hank getting a gun pointed at him, Hank’s fear at his friend, Virgil’s fear at his friend- no, what was he doing? He was making things about himself. That wasn’t right!

“When I got out of jail, Tasha helped me rebuild my life,” Hank sighed. “She let me stay at her house, paid me to take care of the place when she was deployed. Since I had a gang out for my blood, I didn’t leave the house much. It was me and my thoughts all the time.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Virgil muttered.

“You said it,” Hank chuckled. “I didn’t have a schedule to follow anymore, so I just slunk around. I was a burden to Tasha. I’d ruined my life, and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t get a job, couldn’t get a place of my own. I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The only option for me was to remind myself of how badly I’d screwed up and how horrible I was.”

“You feeling regret is a good thing,” Virgil huffed. “It means you know you made mistakes. It means you aren’t that horrible.”

“Not sure how true that is,” Hank muttered.

“I’m serious,” Virgil grunted, crossing his arms. “How many people would have the courage to call the cops on themselves?” Hank’s gaze trailed between his hands, opening and closing his fists.

“Maybe,” Hank sighed. “I still took my sister’s cash. I wasted away in her house, ordering fast food and binge-watching TV all day. The few times I left were for groceries or with Tasha. She wouldn’t give up on me. So I gave up on myself.” Silent words of understanding and empathy entered Virgil’s head. Memories of mirrored emotions fluttered past. They both sat in the dim hospital room, each thinking different, but depressingly similar thoughts.

“I don’t think there’s much I can do to help,” Virgil admitted. “That’s a lot to unpack.”

“You let me tell my story,” Hank sighed.

“I’m also staying with you,” Virgil declared. “You’ve got two people who aren’t willing to give up on you now. Your sister, and me.”

“A horrible idea, really,” Hank chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well,” Virgil huffed, throwing his hands in the air. “It sucks to suck, I guess.” Hank’s mouth twitched. Virgil’s shoulders flew to his ears as Hank let out a loud bark of laughter. His chest heaved, his laughter making him bounce on the bed. For the first time in a while, Virgil showed a genuine smile. It was tiny and barely visible, but it was there, without sarcasm or anger or fear.

“After all that, he still sang Happy Birthday?” Hank laughed, stirring his ramen with a chopstick.

“They jacked up his painkillers,” Virgil scoffed. “He was out of it. Logan never sings, ever.” Virgil took a bite of his ramen. He really hoped he was eating normally.

“These friends of yours sound great!” Hank declared, taking a large bite out of his ramen. Noodles clung to his chin, but he wiped them away and let them plop onto the table.

“They’re tolerable,” Virgil said, smirking.

“They’re loyal, from the way you talk about them,” Hank said through a mouthful of noodles. He swallowed, then said “If I had found friends like that as a kid, I probably would have turned out better.”

“Alright, they’re great,” Virgil admitted, shaking his head. “If Roman heard me say that, his ego would grow ten sizes too big.” Virgil stabbed at his ramen. Thoughts danced on the tiny ripples in the soy sauce. He might as well tell Hank. He kept gushing about Virgil changing his life, so he probably wouldn’t get laughed at. “You keep saying I changed your life, but I’m thinking you changed mine too.”

“How?” Hank asked, glancing between Virgil and his ramen.

“The people I was with were toxic,” Virgil explained. “I wasn’t in a good place. I was trapped at St. Gemma’s in the same way you were trapped with that old friend of yours, and your sister’s house.”

“The house is less of a trap now,” Hank chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still live there, but it’s a lot happier.”

“I thought the others were my friends, but…” Virgil sighed. “As you were talking, I realized they weren’t good for me. I was dying. It’s what drove me to join Sanders, in the end.” Hank’s bark of laughter ripped through Virgil’s ears.

“Nice to know we both made a difference,” Hank chuckled.

“I need to head back,” Virgil sighed, slipping out of the booth. “Thanks for the ramen.”

“Thanks for talking to me!” Hank laughed, scrambling out of the booth. He held his hand out to Virgil. “It really was great to see you.”

“I’ll probably see you again, considering I’m on your sister’s case,” Virgil said. He gritted his teeth and shook Hank’s hand. Awkward awkward awkward! Why was his hand all loose and weird?

“Yeah,” Hank said, nodding. Virgil shot Hank a two-fingered salute and, checking his pocket for his phone, strolled towards the exit of Gator Noodles. The anime music ringing through his head finally stopped. Virgil tugged at the collar of his scrubs and sighed. It really wasn’t the worst lunch ever. It was rather nice, if Virgil was being honest. But what it really was was a reminder- a reminder of what Virgil had escaped. He let out a long, deep breath. He stuck his hands into his pockets and started on his walk back to Sanders Hospital.

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(Years prior to Hank Dragon and Virgil Lawson’s first meeting…)

Virgil’s fellow nursing graduates screamed around him as their hats flew into the air. Virgil only tossed his a little bit above him- he didn’t want to lose the memento of all his hard work. The end of nursing school. The day had finally arrived. His graduating class hugged the people around them, sharing high fives and cheers. Virgil was perfectly happy to stand there, not touching anyone, and fix the hat back on his head.

His classmates swarmed towards the stands where their families waited, cheering for their kids and siblings, sharing the accomplishment. Virgil padded the opposite direction, towards his now former university. He had no one in the stands for him. His family was back in Atlanta, waiting for him to drive home. It wasn’t like Virgil wasn’t a bit annoyed his mom couldn’t come to his graduation. She’d been there for all his other major events. Still, it couldn’t be helped. His mom had so many backed-up sessions at the tattoo shop, she couldn’t drive down to Florida now. That was honestly preferable. Now that he was done with school, he could finally go home. He could find a job in Atlanta (after all, he’d gotten nursing licenses for both Georgia and Florida, just in case), stay with his mom until he found the right apartment, and start his life. And that was, quite frankly, terrifying.

Virgil paused underneath a tree thick with large, green leaves. He shuffled under his robes and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. Sure he wasn’t supposed to have the phone during graduation, but what if someone called needing something? He leaned against the tree and dialed his mom’s number. He looked into the leaves above as the phone rang and, for a few moments, his anxiety was lifted.

“Hello?” someone asked on the other end of the call.

“Hey Mom,” Virgil said. “I didn’t fail nursing school, it seems. I’m not sticking around for all the kissing and crying and whatever. Once I get some stuff from my apartment, I’ll start heading home.”

“Who is this?” the voice asked.

“Uh…” Virgil stammered. “Virgil? Your son?”

“You’re her son?” the voice gasped. “She had a son?”

“Wait, you aren’t Mom,” Virgil huffed. Something churned in his stomach. “Who is this?”

…

no.

…

No.

…

No no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO-

He was burning underneath those itchy, itchy robes. Everything hurt, everything was too much, the world was too much. The grass stabbed his feet, the tree ran daggers down his stiff, burning shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he sat down. His hat fell off. His tears hadn’t come yet- even in his worst moments, the tears were always the last thing to show up- but the stabbing, choking sound coming out of his throat was enough for now.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when he wasn’t there, oh God he wasn’t there, how could he not have been there, he should have been there!

“This graduation had become much more interesting,” someone muttered. “It seems the joy of the moment has become too much for you.” Virgil didn’t bother opening his eyes. He stayed curled into himself, trying not to suffocate. “In case you’re too panicked to fully process that, that statement was sarcastic. Let’s try to breath, shall we? Maybe then I can understand if what you need is a few tissues or an ambulance.” Virgil’s hand flew out, dismissing whoever stood beside him. He didn’t need someone poking their nose into this. He couldn’t even say what it was. Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

“It may not be clear to you,” the stranger huffed. “But I am trying to help you. If you can’t talk, then I’ll figure things out the best I can. We’ve got a phone here-”

“Don’t touch that!” Virgil roared, eyes flying open. A black gloved hand was reaching for the phone at Virgil’s side. Virgil grabbed the phone and held it to his chest. He finally looked up at the stranger trying to help him. Scars ran down run side of his face, illuminated by the sun poking between the leaves. It looked like someone had taken a torch to half this person’s body.

“So you can speak,” the stranger sighed. They crouched to Virgil’s level. Their heterochromatic eyes tried to stay level with Virgil’s. “I am sorry to have upset you further. Perhaps I could have a name?” Virgil’s fists rested against his forehead, pressing into his skull as the tears, the late-comers they were- finally decided to show up.

“Virgil,” Virgil choked out, still sobbing.

“Virgil,” the stranger said. Virgil’s name rolled off his tongue. “Like Dante’s guide through the inferno. Poetic. You were the only one to go this way when the caps flew. I can only assume that whatever happened, it’s a new development. Since no one else seems to have noticed your distress, I suppose you’ll need my help.”

“You can’t help,” Virgil snapped. “I don’t even know you.”

“Then let’s change that,” the stranger sighed. He put his hand to his chest. “You may call me Dr. D, or simply D for now.”

“What-” Virgil stammered through his sobs. “That’s not a name.”

“I don’t entrust my name to many, so that is what I go by,” Dr. D huffed. He settled onto the grass in front of Virgil. “Now then, Virgil. Would you like someone to talk to?”

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