#would you believe me if I said Mark took over the keyboard halfway through to gush about David

[one-silly-cart00nist]

Sunset after the Rain [Mark/David]

(because AO3 is down and I was planning to post the sequel to this fic soon so here you go tumblr: my ode to the creek and the start of my Elders brainrot)

Rated: G Word Count: 5k Pre-slash, Original Side Character (Jackie's gf for plot purposes)

It was a sunny afternoon at the creek the day when the Elder’s rock was busy outdoors. For the longest day of summer the three friends prepared a special celebration—a campfire and a sleepover under the rock with a few special guests to shelter. 

It was a sunny afternoon at the creek the day when the Elder’s rock was busy outdoors. For the longest day of summer the three friends prepared a special celebration—a campfire and a sleepover under the rock with a few special guests to shelter. 

Omar, despite being quite the youngest in the group, captured the hearts of the elders easily through his love of comics and videogames. Now that the Overpass didn’t need a guard and he had free time to spare, he found himself frequently showing up at the Elder’s rock borrowing manga and listening in on the DnD campaigns. He didn’t quite have the confidence to join in. 

David insisted Tabitha and Courtney would be invited to commemorate their friendship formed from sharing the pain of part-time at the smoothie bar. Mark wasn’t quite thrilled about it—and was still taking his time to get used to David’s new passion for the Goth lifestyle. But the wound of almost losing his friendship over a petty grudge was fresh and so he caved.

Then there was Annie. While her anime consumption was more casual than the elders, her passion for singing OSTs and her cheerful intrigue for all things nerd made her a favoured company. 

And wherever Annie went usually followed… Jackie. 

Currently looming above David who has just excitedly been telling Annie about the new shop he found online selling all kinds of clothes to fit his new aesthetic. 

Mark observed from a distance. 

The cold stare of his glasses that reflected nothing, the panic in David’s eyes as he trailed off mid-sentence, the smirk that bloomed on Jackie’s face at the reaction, and finally, how it faded into a much gentler smile when Jackie took the spot next to Annie. He extended his hand towards Annie, pinkie, pointer and thumb sticking out—Annie copied the gesture as she slotted her fingers alongside his. 

Mark didn’t understand what it meant. 

Correction: he knew exactly what Jackie was showing was jealousy. Admittedly, he was familiar with that, even though he didn’t have a cute date to justify it. He just didn’t know what the sign meant. 

He looked at David again. He recovered from the scare quickly and was now back on his excited monologue, fists held up and his whole body bouncing as he talked. It was less noticeable than what it used to be when they were younger but Mark knew what he was looking at to notice it. 

Past the logs they collected around the campfire, Barry has just emerged from the woods carrying a couple of sticks to roast on. Omar was right at his tail carrying rocks to circle the campfire. The kid was taking his contribution so seriously. 

Tabitha and Courtney arrived a minute ago with loads of snacks and cola. Now they sat across from Annie and David and chatted among themselves. 

Mark has tasked himself with tidying up the rock to welcome so many people—it was gonna be stuffy anyway but putting away some manga shelves and life sized replicas was the least he could do. Now that’s done he found himself watching the life around him. 

It hasn’t been that long since the fight after which he spent weeks alone at the rock before he packed up and started hanging out at home instead where his messy room and the internet would distract him from the sorrow and guilt eating him up. 

He was just going to the Elder’s rock to borrow the last volume of Two Piece when he found Barry sitting there all by himself. He feared the moment but found relief when Barry said he wasn’t mad anymore. Mark apologised regardless. Spending that afternoon with Barry gave him courage to reach out to David too. 

He didn’t realise how much he missed them both. 

---☀---

“As the good hosts we are,” David spoke with enthusiasm, “we should introduce everyone. I’m David and I work at the smoothies with Tabitha and Courtney. Who wants to go next?”

Barry took the spot next to him and greeted everyone, claiming his turn. Mark scanned the circle to see where he could sit—they prepared more logs than necessary to use them as spare tables for board games. The other side of David was still empty even though Mark would need to carry a log all the way over and he didn’t want to look that desperate. There was space next to Jackie on the fallen tree log but Mark wasn’t so fond of that kid. He didn’t even invite him. 

He chose to sit on one of the spare logs in between Tabitha and Jackie. It gave him a direct view of David… 

David and his ripped off sleeves and just one of many chokers Mark definitely hasn’t been keeping track of. His hair started growing out even more now that he didn’t trim it to fit under the old helmet, and Mark recalls how he mentioned wanting it pink eventually. 

It’s been weeks. It feels like they met again in college—it feels like seeing Kenneth on that phone call. He changed so much. He grew up to be popular and handsome and not into anime anymore. David grew up to be popular and handsome too. 

With pink hair and edgy clothes…? 

Maybe that too. 

He looked really happy and confident in his skin. Sure he had been before—walking around the rock topless despite not being the type to work out required that kind of confidence already. 

Ah. He never really cared for anyone’s opinion. David always cared about personal joy and harmony first and foremost. 

Mark had to admit that he was happy for him, seeing him like this. Even if he was in two minds about his own feelings towards the new gimmick. 

He still loved anime and Mark’s DnD campaigns. If he wanted to play as a sorcerer instead of a bard now, that was not Mark’s place to complain. 

He smiled to himself.

Then he looked up, disturbed from his thoughts by the sudden silence. He noticed David’s eyes on him. His heart skipped a beat. And then he slowly realised everyone had their eyes on him like they expected him to do something. For a brief moment he panicked if he wasn’t saying all that aloud, but David soon cleared the table, cheerful as ever: “It’s your turn!” 

“Oh,” he scratched his neck awkwardly as he willed away the scarlet of his cheeks. “I’m Mark. I am the expert of all things anime… and…” his gaze travelled to David who listened to him too intently for someone who already knew him. “And I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole to you David.”

“Aw… We’ve been over that,” David waved his hand in dismissal. “But your apology is appreciated. I’m happy we’re friends now.” 

Mark swore he heard coos from at least one of the girls present and felt his cheeks heat up at the attention. If either one of them decides to tease him about it, or about how he stuttered through his apology when his attention stuck on David’s eyeliner, he will consider drastic measures. 

Next was Jackie. He waved at everyone and pointed at himself. Then he gestured with his hand what Mark assumed was his name because Annie filled in the silence with a verbal introduction. He signed more and Annie translated that he likes swimming and baseball. 

At the end he turned to her with a sign akin to a blown kiss.

Mark never had a reason to learn ASL but he wondered how hard it is. If it was any different from learning Japanese like he did in his free time—a completely new sentence structure and a thousand of signs so unlike the english alphabet.  

“My name is Annie. I like to dance and sing and… a lot more things… but singing OSTs with the guys is what brings me here tonight.” She smiled and gestured at Jackie, as she continued to sign the rest of her introduction. “Jackie is my boyfriend, I hope no one minds him here. We’re both from the other side of the creek.”

“What is it like on the other side?” David inquired. “That’s where Kenneth is from.” 

The sudden mention of Kenneth’s name had unwanted thoughts flashing through Mark’s mind. His dyed blonde hair and blue contacts. His room, bare of any trace of his origins. He was almost unrecognisable. And the crushing reality of David keeping contact with him and yet he never reached out to the rest. 

It wasn’t surprising it was David whom he remained friends with. Who wouldn’t… It hurt nevertheless. 

“Pretty chill after King Xavior was overthrown.” Annie said, then turned to Omar, “We thank Omar and his friends for that effort.”

Omar set his can of soda aside and wiped his mouth on his sleeve while keeping eye contact with Annie, then her boyfriend. “We faced Jackie in combat back then. So pardon my uneasiness. It’s been a lot to get over after all those years.”

Annie tapped Jackie to make him focus as she signed what Omar said. She smiled as she watched Jackie sign back. “He says it was fun and that he will be better prepared for a future water balloon fight.” 

He smirked at Omar and nodded. “We’ll see that fair and square.” 

Annie continued. “It wasn’t a matter of choice to be on Xavier’s side. No one believed Xavier could be defeated. If Jackie turned his back on the king he would be in serious trouble afterwards. And being a champion wasn’t so bad—he could keep doing what he loved.” 

“Where were you during the war, Annie?” Omar wondered. “I don’t think we passed you in our search for the flag.” 

“I was casted out of the creek before the war began…” she laughed. “I might have punched Xavier. More times than I can count. It was… uh… deserved… but it wasn’t so bad. My only connection to the creek was Jackie, which allowed me to sneak in and before that, to get away with more than a regular kid could. I can’t blame him for sticking to the king to the very end.”

“Hold up— What?” Tabitha drew everyone’s attention to herself. “You guys had a monarchy in the creek? Dude that’s— What.” 

“It’s kinda been a thing for a decade now. We grew up into the system, messed up as it is.”

“Queen Cheyenne was chill.” Annie narrated Jackie’s signs again. “If there was a problem we sought help with, she would help, otherwise she was just a teen hanging out with her best friend at the royal tree house. She took her status seriously and wished to expand her rule across the overpass but she wasn’t that persistent about it. Xavier was crowned a couple of years ago and that quickly turned into a whole tyranny.” 

“What happened to that Cheyenne?”

“The worst possible thing—she concluded she was too cool for the creek.” Annie rolled her eyes. “Could never be me.” 

“No one is too old for the creek,” Barry exclaimed. A chorus of agreements came from everyone while Tabitha and Courtney shrugged their shoulders. 

“I can stand behind that,” Mark joined in. “Except for when we’re in college somewhere far away. Because you guys have plans or whatever.” 

Tabitha and Courtney exchanged grimaces. “Yeah, let's not talk about that.” 

“Let’s dive into the juicy part.” Tabitha cheered, getting up to pass around the plastic bag. She sat down throwing her legs over Courtney’s lap. 

Her girlfriend grabbed a can of cola from her hands and popped it open. “Literally, we bought smoothies. But you have to pay in gossip!” 

“Yeah. Barry—has someone captured your heart recently?” 

“Uh. No…” Barry scratched his neck awkwardly. “My heart is being crushed by advanced bio summer homework.” 

“Booring…” Tabitha complained with an exasperated sigh. “You guys really do your summer homework?” she shook her head in disbelief. “David, you tell us what you’ve been up to.” 

“Well… I’ve been experimenting with my clothes. I really like the stuff you picked out, I never thought I would be so comfortable in this.” He smiled bashfully as he twirled a hair between his fingers. “It’s really growing on me.” 

“It looks really cute on you,” Annie said. Jackie gave a thumbs up. Barry also muttered something encouraging. Mark felt his voice stuck in his throat. 

David curled into himself but despite that he glowed with all the praise. “Thanks guys.” 

Even when the rest of the circle shifted attention towards the next person in line, Mark’s eyes lingered on his friend. He had to agree with the compliments. 

“Annie, what about you and Jackie? How did you two become a thing?” 

Mark wasn’t particularly interested in that but he found himself following the story as Annie spoke animatedly. “To be honest… I was never gonna tell him that I liked him. I would say so out loud because I knew he wouldn’t hear but I couldn’t let him know.”

That made Mark pause. It was beyond him why Annie thought she needed to keep her feelings hidden. It wasn’t like it would be weird to like him. They have been friends for years and Jackie was clearly interested in her if he kept coming back. 

David never had to ask him to show up under the rock on his birthdays or to speed watch his latest anime favourites so they could spend the next few days discussing them. But they also simped for anime girls together. It didn’t make sense. It brought so many questions Mark didn’t have answers for. 

“…All until Elisa noticed my crush. She thought it would be fun to tease me, to make me insecure, that Jackie would never like me back. I was so frustrated and Jackie noticed. I had to tell him. I didn’t know how to sign it at that time, so I just drew a heart on his chest and he returned the gesture.” 

“Aww that’s so sweet!” Courtney cooed. 

Tabitha howled beside her. “That bitch can suck it! Look who’s got a boyfriend now!” 

“Language Tabi! There are kids with us!” Courtney calmed her down.  

“Huh?” Tabitha threw a look at the circle until her eyes landed on the hoodie kid. Her gaze darkened and her sharp teeth flashed in a dangerous smirk. “Oh. Omar?”

Mark watched in disinterest as the kid’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Nothing of that sort.” 

Jackie signed something with a snicker that only Annie understood and chose to not share. If Mark had to guess those two knew of some non supporting evidence for the kid’s statement. Not that he cared. 

Could kids like him already have crushes? 

Mark didn’t even remember when he… no, nevermind. That wasn’t a crush. Whatever it was, which he couldn’t name, it was not a crush. He would have noticed sooner. 

“Does David want to share his romantic discoveries?” 

Mark shot his eyes towards his clearly panicking friend. “No. David doesn’t want to.” 

That was both a relief and a concern. He was better off if he didn’t have to hear about whoever David was interested in but the answer made him wonder—what was the point of such defensiveness if there wasn’t someone in his mind? 

He really, really shouldn’t have thought of that. 

---☀---

Annie tore a pack of chips open and threw a couple into her mouth. “Should someone set up the games?” 

“Suit yourself. What are we playing?” Mark jumped to his feet, happy to distance himself from the conversation. He lifted the tower of board games he carried outside the rock for the occasion. “The choices are endless.” 

“David promised us he would show us your DnD business,” Tabitha shouted from the back. 

Annie shook her head as she mindlessly reviewed the game collection. “We should play something non-verbal. Like double.” 

Annie lifted her head with a grin as she signed her idea to Jackie who signed back quickly. “You’re right I’m unbeatable. Not even Keun Sup could outspeed me.” 

“What about uno?” Tabitha suggested. 

“Do we want to have a good time or do we want to scream at each other until sundown?” 

“We could play cards?” Omar tried. 

“Have any of you heard of Kent?” Annie asked then. A couple of people shook their heads while Jackie showed a toothy grin. “We send codes to our teammates when we have collected an all-symbol combination and try to not be caught by the other teams. Sounds good?”

An excited chorus followed. 

“Grab a teammate and come up with a secret code.” Annie instructed. “I’m with Jackie!” 

“Calling dibs on Courtney!” 

Mark looked around hesitantly. The choices were running out quickly. Even Barry already teamed up with Omar by the time Mark made up his mind to ask him. 

Which meant the only person left was… David. 

“So what code should we pick?” David beamed at him. His voice dropped into an excited whisper. “A wink?” 

Very predictable, the code and the mannerism that had Mark leaning away for personal space all the same. “Uh… oh… Sure. Yeah. A wink will do.” 

Annie and Jackie set up the cards while the rest of the teams were discussing strategies, likely already having a vault of different codes to switch between as they played. Mark expected no one could compete with the excited duo but he held some naive hope he could win at least a few games once he grasped the rules. He hadn’t spent his entire life playing games for nothing. 

The game itself was more about attention than the cards. 

In the first round Mark had his last ace snatched from under his palm. It meant two things—he was left to observe instead of collecting like all the rest, and that Omar who swept his card was out of the round with him. 

The game was also about knowing people. 

He called out Barry pretty easily when he rapped his fingers on his thigh out of nowhere. That was a classic impatient Barry thing. 

Annie fared just as well in terms of catching people red handed. 

“Courtney, your make-up is so pretty today.” 

“Out! Tabitha is out!” Annie would exclaim cheerfully. 

“What? Not fair! Can I not compliment my girlfriend?” 

Somehow the banter only added to the pleasant experience. It built Mark’s competitive spirit and brought laughs and had the time fly so fast. 

“What’s your code even supposed to be?”

“We will never tell!” 

---☀---

The sunlight soon faded too much to see the cards in front of them properly and so the group of friends moved on to the main event of the night. Barry and Tabitha crouched by the campfire with crumbled newspaper and a lighter. Omar sharpened the roasting sticks quietly in the corner. Annie and Jackie set up an actual table to place all their food on. 

David and Courtney sat back engrossed in a conversation. 

Mark stood there idly as he tried not to look at them too much. 

He spent most of his childhood with Barry and David and Kenneth. He never looked to make more friends—he already had company that shared his interest in anime so what more could he gain. Not like he expected to ever lose either of them. They were supposed to be inseparable, if not for their shared hobbies then for the fact there wasn’t anyone else they would turn to. 

Now David had actual friends outside of the Elder trio. Mark was happy for him. At least he tried to be. 

But… It seeded a worry that David would no longer need his old friends when he found another place to belong like Kenneth did, would no longer need to settle for someone who’d been so hurtful towards him without realising. Mark wanted to turn back time and make sure David didn’t set foot out from under the rock on that fateful day. 

Would that mean he’d still sit here in front of them shirtless with his cape warming him against the chill of the evening and his helmet set down on his lap so he could lean his forearms on it and support his head? 

The mental image competed with the sight before his eyes until they faded into one. 

David with one knee supporting his head, hiding his choker and the front of his shirt. His hair flowing down the sides of his face, untamed even as he tucked stray strands behind his ears. The eyeliner only made his wide eyes more noticeable. Like it wasn’t hard to look away from them already. 

---☀---

As darkness covered the clearing and dimmed the view, Mark found it easier to keep his eyes and thoughts away from David. The campfire added a nice layer of warmth to the summer night and the roasted bacon and marshmallows brought the same warmth to Mark’s stomach. 

There was program as well—Courtney and Tabitha telling spooky stories that allegedly happened in the creek. Mark knew half of them from his own childhood, being scared while Barry and David always rushed into the adventure of finding out its truths. It was mostly Barry. David was curious and eager to learn but not so much a brave soul, sweaty palms always enclosing Mark’s wrist or sleeve. 

An innocent soul, even now. He was so easy to push around that Mark hadn’t even realised he had been doing so. 

---☀---

At some point during the night David pulled out a ukulele. Mark recalled hearing him practise at the rock a few years back but David back then was terrible and he couldn’t stand the noise. He must have practised a lot since then because he was nothing like the awkward off key performances of ninth grade. 

He played a melody that everyone at the circle knew as they all hummed along but among all the voices only David stood out to his ears. That part of his performance was still… less than charming. 

Mark supposed that was good. It was familiar. It was his David. 

---☀---

First yawn of the evening and the emptied supply of food slowly moved the program inside. 

Jackie slid under the rock with ease and extended his arms towards Annie whose eyes were already falling shut as she crawled in. He took off his cap and glasses before he climbed into his futon. It looked like they were both done for the night. Not like anyone else here could use ASL to help him keep up with the conversations. 

Omar set his futon underneath the anime figurines shelf. He flipped through the comics scattered nearby as he waited for the rest of the group to settle down. It wasn’t long until he was snoring nose deep in the pages. 

Tabitha tried to play cool as she challenged the rest to stay up the latest but ended up falling asleep in her girlfriend’s lap early on as well. 

Soon it was just Courtney and the elders. 

They formed a much smaller circle and kept their voices hushed so as to not disturb the rest. It felt weirdly intimate to huddle up—especially with David leaned against the wall by his left, not exactly leaning into him but close enough to let his mane brush over Mark’s shoulder now and then. 

Speaking in a whisper, David’s voice was much more stable and calming. “Is this the part when we tell each other secrets?”

“I don’t know. This is the part for anything that felt too out of the left field in the sun.” Courntey replied and yawned. “If there are any thoughts you want to share, the floor is yours.” 

David seemed to think about it for a long while. His eyes always wandered off when he was deep in thoughts—a habit that was rare, for David’s mind usually worked at a speed unmatched by others, but prominent nonetheless. At one point it was clear to Mark he was no longer caught up in his thoughts. Rather, waiting for a cue to speak. 

When no one else took the spotlight, he finally spoke up. “I was really sad and hurt when I left this place behind. I feel that bitterness at the back of my mouth now that I’m back. It’s on my mind all day.” 

Mark averted his eyes in guilt. 

“But it’s being rewritten by new memories, both here and at the smoothie place. And it helped me push myself to meet new people and try out new things. I would have never dared to show up like this to the creek. At least… not now. I’m still exploring how I like to see myself.” 

He fidgeted with his sleeve. It caught Mark’s eye and urged him to reach out. He didn’t know where that action would have ended so he suppressed it quietly. Maybe he wasn’t quiet enough. 

David looked up at him. Mark swallowed. “When you walked up to the counter and saw me and still wanted me to come… I care about what you think. It frustrated me when I realised how much I let myself be stomped on because of it.” 

The lump in his throat grew more uncomfortable as he listened to David’s words. I care about what you think. That was a new one. Something he might have only figured out recently, or didn’t feel like saying when they first spoke about the argument. 

Mark had thought about his own apology too, how he could have been more open. “I never meant to make you feel… to hurt you. I was really happy that I had you by my side. I took that for granted.” 

The rest was a familiar tune on the tip of his tongue. “It felt terrible to be here alone too. Like when your favourite show never airs its final arc. All you’re left with are the hopes of what could have been.” 

And lastly, what fell out of his mouth when David reached out for his hand and he felt like he was staring for too long: “I don’t know if I like this… everything… but I’ll get used to it. I promise. It’s okay to change. Just don’t ditch me again. Please.”

“Listen to me when I tell you that you’re pushing too hard. Okay?”

Mark shut his eyes. “I will. I promise.” 

The silence was unnerving—so much so it led Mark to open his eyes again. He didn’t want to face David’s reaction but he couldn’t stand being left in the dark about it. 

David was looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. It was uncommon, David wore his heart on his sleeve, or so Mark thought until now. 

Soon David’s gaze softened as he reached out with open arms. Mark was never so relieved to hear someone speak. “Come here, I missed you…” 

Everyone who grew up with Mark knew he wasn’t one for hugs, for any physical affection really. He didn’t like getting up and personal. Still he found himself clutching onto David’s waist and enjoying the warmth the simple gesture brought to him, like he was still at the campfire. 

As they pulled away their gazes lingered on each other. It was Mark who looked away first, weak against the gentle smile on David’s lips as well as suddenly aware of Barry’s presence. He looked at him but couldn’t think of what to say. The apology was meant for him as well… Mark was just completely scooted by the heat in his chest that he kept for his best friend. 

Barry seemed to understand what was going through his head, patting his shoulder and letting Mark’s palm rest on the back of his hand to thank him for the silent understanding. 

Mark’s heart soared with relief. Like they haven’t had the same heart to heart a few weeks ago. Like he hadn’t heard them accept his apologies half a dozen times already. 

David hugged them both back then, hesitant but earnest. It was the same and yet so different when he hugged Mark a moment ago. It felt intimate. Like it was meant for only the two of them. Like there was no one watching. 

David never cared about who’s watching. Mark had always adored that about him. How he existed in his own bubble sometimes, savouring happiness and completely oblivious to the world around him, by choice or otherwise. Mark felt being a part of that bubble just now. 

No one has spoken a word since David invited him for a hug. All the same people could be shouting right into his ear and Mark is sure he wouldn’t hear a word of it. 

He stared ahead until David’s cheeks gained a scarlet colour and he finally looked away sheepishly. Mark felt his face heat up as well. 

“Well, I’m out,” he announced abruptly, getting onto his feet. “Do whatever you want but I shall head to sleep.”

David leaned backwards. “O-Oh. Yeah. I’ll follow suit.” 

Mark felt his eyes leave a warm trace on his back as he walked over to his sleeping bag. He didn’t bother turning around even when he heard hesitant footsteps. 

“Okay, let’s tuck you in then…” that must have been a whisper by Courtney, probably awkwardly manoeuvring Tabitha off her legs. Not Mark’s problem. 

He turned to face the wall. He could hear the rustling of the sleeping bags and some whispers. It had never been this lively at the Elder’s rock before—not ever since the three friends used to stay the night from time to time in middle school. It certainly never was this crowded. Mark’s mind was never so restless.

He internally laughed at himself, at how the evening with friends and extended company and plenty of distraction still led his head to wrap around David. He probably thought about him so much he’ll think of him in his sleep too. For the better or worse. 

Probably for the better. If he had to admit to it—and if this was going to be a theme in his life now. Then he should look at the bright side. 

[goat-boy-sounds]

just another job

I wrote this all the way back in december... for some reason, I thought it was unfinished. whatever. here it is-- my angsty pre-show markpetey fic in all it's glory:

Mark’s laugh was obnoxious. Maybe that wasn’t the word. It was grating, like he didn’t actually believe anything he said was funny. But Mark kept making jokes, clearly a defense mechanism for being scared out of his mind. Mark was halfway through another crack about what a person could do with Dylan’s fingertraps when--

“Hey Mark?” Petey looked down on him from the other side of the desk divider.

Mark opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came. His eyes were wet. His breathing was shaky. Mark knew, and Mark knew that Petey knew.

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice cracked.

“What’s up with your hands?”

Dylan and Irving had been dead silent ever since Mark sat down. Only silently clicking at the keyboards every once in a while, but even that was just a pretense. They were both glancing at Petey, wide eyed.

Mark knew his presence made the rest of MDR uncomfortable. He always knew.

Mark almost tried that obnoxious laugh again, and he did, but tears were coming along with it. There he was, smiling like an idiot with the tears pooling at the end of his nose.

Every single one of Mark’s knuckles were bright red. A couple left drops of blood on the desk as he lifted his shaking hands, tucking them into his elbows. Suddenly, Mark’s face went very serious. He looked away from Petey.

Petey resisted the urge to sigh. Of course Mark would do this to himself on his first trip to the break room. The guy who spent his first day screaming for help at the stairwell door for ten minutes straight. He would’ve been annoyed at Mark for making the last ten days a living hell for him if it weren’t for the fact that he was wiping snot with his suit sleeve. Petey had never seen Mark cry before. He’d only known him for ten days though.

Petey opened his mouth but Mark cut him off.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Mark stood, still bent over and wiping his nose, and then he shuffled off to the bathroom.

*thud*

“What’d they do to him?” Dylan leaned forward and whispered as soon as the bathroom door closed.

Petey finally let out the sigh he’d been holding. He smothered his face with his hands. “I don’t know,”

“He was in there for a while, man. They never did anything like that to me,” Dylan always talked like there was some sort of conspiracy behind everything.

“Five hours,” Irving said smartly.

“What?” Petey raised his eyebrows.

“He was in there for five hours. I counted,” Irving re-adjusted himself in his chair.

“Must’ve done something pretty screwed,” Dylan said.

“I’m gonna go-- I’m gonna go check on him. Just keep working.”

Dylan gave Irving a knowing look that Petey caught as he walked away. Of course, Dylan would do that. Dylan had done almost the exact same thing four quarters ago.

Irving went back to scrolling through data.

Petey took a breath outside the bathroom door. He could hear Mark grabbing an obscene amount of paper towels from the dispenser. He knocked a couple of times.

“Hey Mark?”

The sound of the paper towel dispenser ceased. No answer.

“Mark, I’m coming in. I need to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Still no answer.

“You know how pissed Graner’d be if he knew you were hurting yourself?” 

“I’M FINE.”

Petey wasn't actually sure if Mark was hurting himself, but it was probable. It was likely. Fourth day, Petey had found Mark sitting on the toilet, trying to scratch marks into his stomach with an unfolded paper clip. Not messages, just marks. White lines. Anything to catch his outie’s attention. Petey’s throat tightened.

“Mark, I’m coming in!”

There was no protest as Petey walked through the door.

Mark was simply hunched over one of the sinks, clutching a few sopping wet paper towels. The rest were scattered along the counter. Mark’s clenched knuckles were bleeding. A few stripes of blood curved down the ceramic sides of the sink into the drain. Mark’s hands triggered the motion sensor on the faucet, and then they were gone.

Petey approached like one would walk up to a barking dog. His leather work shoes felt all too loud on the tile. Mark refused to look at him as he wrapped his hands in the rough towels, rubbing until the bleeding got worse. More red spots on the sink. Mark stopped. He stood up straight and rested his wrists on the sink’s edge, observing his work, exercising his fingers.

“Was that all you?”

Mark shook his head.

“So they just…”

“I don’t know,” Mark sighed, “I couldn’t keep them on the table.” Saying that made Mark’s nose twitch.

Petey’s mouth was slightly open as he stared at Mark. There wasn’t anything Petey could say to that, was there? Nothing Mark wouldn’t have the right to hate him for. It was his job to convince Mark he should be happy here, and they beat him up. They hit him with a ruler like he was in grade school. Who knows what else they did to him behind closed doors? Mark wasn’t going to fess up.

Petey turned his back to the mirror. He could just barely see Mark’s shoulder in his periphery. The stall doors were wide open. “I know this is hard. It’s hard for everyone when they start out, y’know?” Petey began, “But I think you should know that there is a life to be had here,” It was so pathetic. Seemed like something straight out of the manual. “You’re going to survive this. I mean, I did, and I turned out fine.”

Mark laughed in spite of himself.

“Look at you! You look like-- well I don’t know what you look like-- but you look like the toughest guy in the office. Your outie’s gonna think, ‘Wow. I must’ve gotten into a cage fight,’ and obviously you won.”

Mark’s face fell again at the mention of his outie. Denied curiosity is almost just as an effective form of torture. Petey learned that around his second month, and it was still there, scratching like a twitching insect leg at the base of his skull, but eventually his brain learned to tune it out. It was the equivalent of white noise down there on the severed floor. It was better not to mention it-- not to think about it-- until of course, they forced you to. Sitting in the wellness sessions. Unable to say a word for fear that the momentary absence of the itch will stop, only to be so much louder when it comes back again. Mark hadn’t had a wellness session yet. Not that Petey knew of, and that scared him. It was going to come sooner or later. Just give him another month.

“How old are you again?” Petey asked, his voice quiet and low.

Mark’s face screwed up, “Milchick said I was forty-three--”

“Maybe, but you also only have ten days of experience under your belt, and you’re scared. I was scared too.”

Mark took a breath.

“You’re gonna get good at this. Trust me. It’s just another job,” Petey tried for a slight smile.

Mark nodded while sniffing, like he wanted to believe that.

“Can I help you clean up?”

“I-- I--” Mark stumbled over his words, “--Sure.”

Mark started hurriedly grabbing the paper towels. All dejection in his body replaced with pumping anxiety. His hands were still bleeding, leaving red spots, making everything worse as they shakily scrambled to get rid of the evidence--

“Hey, hold it,” Petey grabbed Mark’s hand, “ Have you washed your hands yet?”

“No,” Mark’s voice was small.

“Let’s start with that.”

Petey turned on the faucet and put his hand over the button on the soap dispenser. 

After a moment of waiting, Mark screwed his face up even further. “This isn’t normal. None of this real. None of this normal,” he ran his free hand through his hair.

“Mark--”

“Stop--”

“Mark.”

“STOP!” Mark screamed, wrenching his hand out of Petey’s, “STOP SAYING THINGS!” and both Mark and Petey knew that the rest of MDR had just heard. They looked to the door. Mark was back to crying silently. Frozen. The faucet was still running.

Petey’s mouth was slightly open again. In his one year on the severed floor, that might have been one of the loudest things he’d ever heard, other than his own voice in that first month… and Mark screaming ten days ago. Mark was staring at him. Begging him to tell him that this place wasn’t real.

But Petey didn’t say anything, he just grabbed Mark’s hand, prying it from the grip on his shoulder, and ran it under the faucet. He watched the blood run until the skin was still red but clear. He got some soap and lathered it over Mark’s knuckles. Mark was tough enough not to flinch at that. And he took Mark’s other hand.

Mark’s face went blank, like it had hit an error window, unable to process anymore of the state it was in.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

Mark’s hand went limp. Petey’s first instinct was to fill the silence.

“We should talk about this over lunch sometime. I’m sure there’s some great places to eat around here,” absolute nonsense, but it was the first thing that came to Petey’s mind. He wondered if that was something his outie would say in a moment like this, “You know, I’ve always wanted to try Thai food.”

Mark raised his eyebrows, like he was about to laugh, and then let the instinct go. What he was left with was a confused grimace… Mark had the funniest facial expressions. Even when he was happy, he had a habit of looking pained, like his body didn’t know how to translate the emotions out of sheer inexperience. When he was sad, it looked like his face was fighting it, and he’d just end up looking like he’d swallowed something awful.

Petey patted Mark on the back, “Let’s say we get back out there. Find some scary numbers,” He tried for another smile. Half-hearted and unintentionally wimpy.

“I just need a second,” Mark’s voice was quiet. He was staring at the floor.

Petey nodded.

“I need a second,” Mark said it again with surety, like he didn’t think Petey had heard it the first time. His gaze moved up to the wall.

Petey leaned against the counter, folding his arms, trying not to look at Mark too directly. Mark was processing something big. Petey didn’t know what exactly. Maybe it was just the past ten days flooding through Mark’s brain again. That’d be enough to paralyze anyone. Or maybe Mark was taking solace in the moment of stillness. Petey closed his eyes. He never really got to close his eyes on the severed floor. Listen to the air conditioning. The faint sounds of the pipes in the walls. His outie must do this. Must take it for granted. Mark would never get to know this feeling regularly. Mark would never again know the feeling of letting his brain rest. This was such a small mercy. If Petey were him, he would stay rooted to that spot for the rest of his life. Not that there was much of a difference between him and Mark now. If there ever was a difference in the first place.

“I need a second,” Mark repeated.

Petey nodded. Again.

But in the back of Petey’s head was a growing buzzing. A warning that they needed to get out of the bathroom and do it fast. They needed to get back to work. The numbers were waiting. Dylan and Irving would have questions. If their productivity was down for the day, then Cobel would notice. Milchick would notice. Maybe Milchick had walked into MDR right now, and was about to find them standing around in the bathroom with Mark’s bloody knuckles. Bloody knuckles that Milchick probably gave him, and then Mark would get sent back to the break room to get hurt even more. No, Mark wouldn’t get sent back to the break room just for an extended bathroom break, but regardless… Mark’s mind was fragile enough already.

“We should get back out there,” and Petey hated saying that.

Mark nodded and looked down at his hands, trying to find an inconspicuous position to hold them so the red wasn’t quite as obvious. He settled for simply leaving them at his sides.

Mark marched back into MDR like a soldier about to jump out of a plane.

Petey always had an appreciation for the green carpet in MDR, and he watched Mark’s shoes tread across it to his desk. When they sat, Petey was sure to keep their desk divider down, just in case. It was almost calming, being able to watch Mark’s serious face instead of completely tunneling his vision into a dark number grid, only occasionally seeing his own reflection. He could settle into this as a routine.

Dylan and Irvng were, gratefully, quiet when Mark and Petey returned. Mark had a sense of new found composure-- doubtless due to him resolving to hatch another escape plan-- that was the cycle every newbie found themselves in for the first month. How many tries it would take before they would give up was the variable. It was enough to drive Petey insane. Knowing that he would have to watch Mark spiral down and break under his supervision. He didn’t know whether his terror was for himself for having to witness it or for Mark. It was probably a bit of both.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 7/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 7: Ambush

“When you get to the back wall, there are two doors.” Emma heard Killian’s voice crackle in her ear. “It’s the first door. You won’t see a keypad but it’s there, behind a panel on the wall.”

Will ran his hands over the wall until he found the hidden panel. “It’s here.” He said with a shake of his head.

“We found it.” Emma announced.

“Ok, the backdoor code is 7344.”

Will punched the code in and they heard a click as the door beside them unlocked. Ruby pulled the door open, and everyone followed her into the dark stairwell.

“It’s going to be a long climb to the Mayor’s floor. You’ll know you’re there when you reach a red metal door.”

Emma nodded to Will, and they began their ascent through the darkened space until her legs were screaming in pain, and she felt like she couldn’t climb another step. When they finally reached the metal door, Emma bent over, trying to catch her breath.

“Ok we’re here.” She wheezed.

“The code is 6812.” Killian announced in her ear and Ruby punched the code into the keypad as the door clicked open.

Will peered into the dark room and then turned toward Mary Margaret. “It’s clear.”

“Ok let’s go Emma.” Emma followed her into the room as they scanned the darkness for the data port.

“What now?”

“The data port is kept behind her desk. There’s a notch in the wall, if you click it, it will open the port.” Killian’s voice cracked in her ear as the com’s device struggled to maintain its connection.

Emma reached up and pulled the ornate flower from her ponytail, clicking the flower stem out of its place until the metal nub was exposed.

“You mean you’ve had this important information in your hair this whole time?” Ruby asked with wide eyes.

Emma simply shrugged and made her way to the wall that Killian had instructed. Feeling around the wall she found the notch and clicked the button hidden inside of it. A noise emanated from beside her hand and light streamed into the darkness as the wall opened, revealing the data port inside.

“Will, over here…” She said nervously as he approached her side.

“Ok plug it in and then step aside so I can do my thing.”

Emma shoved the metal into the port and stepped away from the wall, watching as Will plucked against the tiny keyboard. “Just a few more clicks…there you are.” He said to himself, a smirk spreading on his face. “Merlin.”

Emma closed her eyes, praying that this would all be done soon when suddenly the lights turned on around her. She spun around, coming face to face with men who had entered the room.

“Hey, who the hell do you think you are?” Emma recognized one of the men as she tried to shield her face, a man who most definitely did not belong in the Mayor’s office.

“Emma, what’s going on?” She heard Killian in her ear.

“It’s Gold’s men.” She whispered before turning to Will. “How long until the message is sent?” She asked nervously as they all spread across the room to give him time to send the message. Nothing else mattered except getting the message to Merlin. If they didn’t reach him, all hope was lost, and their lives wouldn’t matter anyway.

“It’s uploading, gonna need more time.” Will grunted, turning his back to the portal, and raising his dagger in front of him.

“Then let’s give these boys something to do while we wait.” Mary Margaret said with a mischievous grin.

Ruby fired the first shot, the arrow striking one of the men in the shoulder as he stared at her in shock before grabbing the arrow and yanking it from his flesh.

One of the men grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward him and Emma balled her hand into a fist, swinging through air until she made contact with his cheek. “Bitch, you’re gonna pay for that. The boss is gonna be really pleased when I bring you back to him.” Emma held her fists up in front of her.

“Who said I’m going anywhere with you.” She smirked before she swung her fist again, ducking when his own came in her direction, she felt herself being tossed toward the ground, pain searing up her side when she slammed into the hard floor. She looked up as the man stood menacingly over her, a dark syringe in his hand. Emma felt her mouth go dry, she had seen them in Gold’s lab, weapons used to knock their mark out while they took them to the lab to experiment on them. One stick of that syringe and they would be unable to fight.

“Watch yourselves.” She screamed toward the others. “Stay away from the syringes.”

The man laughed. “Come on sweetheart, don’t want me to jab you with my stick.”

“Dream on, you big cow.” Emma growled. “You aren’t putting me to sleep with that stupid thing.”

He laughed loudly. “Put you to sleep…” He looked down at the syringe. “Oh, you think this is…oh no darling, you’ve been gone a while. We’ve upgraded. This is so much more now.” He sneered, an ominous laugh filling the room.

Everything around her happened suddenly as Mary Margaret screamed behind her, one of the men leaning over her with his leg pressed against her stomach, the syringe sticking out of her thigh. The woman growled, grabbing the nearest item she could reach and slamming it over his head. The man slumped to the ground, and she scrambled to pull the needle from her body, tossing it to the other side of the room. She wouldn’t have long before she would pass out cold.

Will was fighting a man at the back wall and Ruby had just dispatched a man who had tried to enter the room. She slammed the door shut again, pushing a large chair in front of the door, and jamming it against the doorknob. Men were banging against it on the other side, trying to get into the room.

She kicked the man next to her in the shin, causing his leg to buckle as he fell to the ground, the syringe falling from his hands and clattering onto the ground into the dark. She jumped up from her spot and dove onto the man’s chest, grabbing the metal lamp from the desk behind him and pressing it against his neck hoping to take the air from his lungs away from him long enough to knock him out.

He snarled loudly, his eyes glaring into hers. “Want to know a secret…” He wheezed, letting out a strangled chuckle and Emma pressed harder against his throat. “We weaponized J2…” He coughed. “She won’t live long.” Emma pushed with all her might until the man’s eyes glazed over and his head tilted to the side.

She fell over to her side, breathing heavily until her thoughts flooded her.

We weaponized J2…

The syringes.

She jumped up from her spot on the floor and rushed toward the data port. They didn’t have long, they needed to get out of there, needed to get to the doctors…before…she couldn’t think about it. The banging at the door was getting louder, it wouldn’t be long before they breached it.

Will slammed the last man in the room to the ground and looked up at her anxiously. “Did it send?”

“We have to go.” She exclaimed. “The syringe, it’s J2.”

His eyes grew wide as he looked over at Mary Margaret being helped up by Ruby. When his eyes returned to hers she was met with an understanding from her friend. They needed to go, now.

The door cracked and arms pushed through the newly created hole. “We gotta go now.”

Emma reached in and grabbed the flower from the port, yanking it free and running toward the exit as Mary Margaret limped in front of her. They slammed the door shut and she felt like they were falling down each flight of stairs they took.

They got halfway down the stairs when the metal door sprung open beside them and a man jumped out and slammed into Will, he swung his fists, pushing the man off him. “Keep going.” He screamed and Emma pushed Mary Margaret further down the stairs, looking back as she watched Will scrambling with the man above her. She pushed away the tears threatening to fall, focused only on getting Mary Margaret to safety.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Ruby shoved the steel door open, letting the light flood into the dark space. “We gotta get out of here.”

“What about Will?” Emma cried.

“He’ll catch up.” Ruby grabbed Mary Margaret around the waist and pulled her forward, and Emma took one last look toward the door. She couldn’t believe they were just going to leave Will behind.

They scrambled through the streets, rushing through the busy people moving around as if they hadn’t a care in the world. It wasn’t until they reached the boat that Emma stopped to look back again. “We can’t just leave him.” She said with tears in her eyes.

“We can’t stay here, we’re in the open.” Ruby warned.

“I know but…” She took one last look as Ruby gave the order to pull away from the shore. In the distance she saw movement, someone stumbled through the wall. “Wait.” She screamed, standing up and jumping out of the boat into the cold water as she waded back to the shore.

Will crawled, gripping his hand into the muddy shore until he fell against the cold ground. Emma reached him, grabbing at his jacket, and turning him to face her. “Hey Emmie.” He laughed with a grunt. Emma didn’t stop to think, she pulled at his jacket, dragging him toward the boat. Ruby met her and pulled him up, helping him into the boat as they road away from the shore.

Emma pushed Will up against the side of the boat, helping him to sit on the ground. There was blood on his shirt that was continuing to grow a deeper shade of red, she pulled his jacket away from him. “Leave it.” He growled.

“No, stop, you’re hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

Emma snorted and yanked his jacket away from his body, examining his side until she found the deep gashes from a blade against his skin. “You’re gonna be ok.” She cried.

“No…” He said, reaching up and stilling her hands. “I’m not.” He said solemnly, pressing something into her palm. When she opened it, she stared numbly at the empty syringe in her hand, the blood draining from her face.

~*~

Killian stared at the boy in his lap, his knee bouncing nervously as the child gurgled and cooed in his arms. “I’m sure she’s fine lad.” He reassured, knowing it was more for himself than the boy who had no idea what he was saying anyway. The coms unit had cut out just as he heard the men breach the office. He had no idea what had happened after that, and the line had been silent for an hour. He tried not to think the worst, tried to have hope that Emma was always telling him to find, but with each ticking minute his thoughts turned darker.

He couldn’t reconcile what he would do if something happened to Emma, but he was starting to feel completely helpless. “Your mom is the bravest woman I know, but I’m sure you already know that.” The boy’s sparkling eyes stared up at him and Killian felt as if he was actually listening to what he was saying. “You look just like her you know.” He said softly. “You have her nose.” He tapped the boy on his tiny little nose, so much like his mothers. The boy had so many of her features, except for his brilliantly blue eyes, Emma’s were an intoxicating shade of seafoam green.

Babies were a wonder to him, he had never been around children much, but was amazed at how something so tiny could mirror his parents with such perfection. He was happy that the boy resembled his mother and not Neal.

The night Emma showed up at his door, tears in her eyes as she told him she was pregnant with Neal’s child; he didn’t even hesitate to assure her that he would take care of her. He loved Emma, he would do anything to protect her and her child, regardless of who had sired the boy.

The boy wrapped his tiny fist around his thumb and Killian felt the tears come to his eyes. Emma needed to be alright, he thought.

He heard a commotion outside the door of his room, and he stood quickly, rushing into the hallway, the boy wrapped tightly in his arms. He saw her golden hair bounding down the hall toward him, a look of terror on her face. Ruby had Mary Margaret at her side, limping as she screamed for a medic. Behind Emma, Will was being helped down the hall by a few men, blood splattered across his face.

Emma rushed to his side, tears staining her face. “What happened?”

“The plague…” She said breathlessly. “They’re using it against us.” She dropped the syringe into his hand, and he looked up at her with terror in his eyes. “Will and Mary Margaret. We…we couldn’t stop it.”

~*~

“What happened here?” David asked as he entered the floor to the Mayor’s office. When he heard over the radio that there had been a break in, he immediately left Regina at the wall and rushed back to the precinct.

“Break in. They came in through the back.” The officer stated.

“How did anyone know about the back entrance?” He said out loud, not really asking a question, but instead talking through the situation to himself. Regina’s entrance was a guarded secret. It took 2 codes to get through both doors. Only someone close to Regina would know the codes.

He stepped into her office and looked around at the mess that had been left behind. Broken items were spread across the floor. He bent over and moved a piece of broken glass with his hand. He needed to see the surveillance footage. Obviously there had been a fight in here, but why.

He walked toward Regina’s desk, running his hand over the wood. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the data port open behind the desk. Looking in he found it empty. Regina’s data port was the only one in the building capable of sending a message outside the walls. The screen was flashing, showing that a message had partially been sent, 89% showing on the screen. Whoever was trying to use the port didn’t succeed in getting the entire message pushed through.

He clicked a few keys on the screen and pulled up the information of the intended recipient. He gasped when he read the name. Merlin.

Whoever had breached the room was trying to reach Merlin, the leader of all the realms. David couldn’t think of a single reason that anyone would be trying to reach Merlin besides Regina. Something didn’t feel right. He clicked onto the screen and had the message sent to his laptop for investigation.

“What did they take?” He looked up suddenly as Regina entered the room.

“Nothing was taken, it seems like they were trying to send a message, but it failed.”

The woman paused. “A message? To whom?”

“Merlin.” He said softly.

“Merlin? Are you certain it failed?” Regina stepped toward him, and he felt the hair on his neck stand up. He didn’t know the reason for his concern, Regina had been acting strange the last few days but something about tonight wasn’t sitting right with him.

“Um, yeah, nothing went through.” He lied, clicking out of the screen in front of him and closing the port. “I’ll check the camera’s and see what I can find out.”

“No.” The woman almost yelled before stopping and laughing lightly, a gesture that made him even more concerned. “I’ll take care of it. You should go home, David. Get some rest, check on that wife of yours.”

“Are you sure, I don’t want to leave you with all this to clean up?”

“I insist.” She said firmly.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said with a nod, looking back before he exited the room as Regina glared at him.

David went to his office and gathered his jacket and keys. The nagging feeling continuing to weigh on his mind. He stared out into the hallway and stepped back into his office, shutting the door behind him. Sitting down at his desk, he opened his holo screen.

“Open surveillance for Regina’s office.” He announced and the screen in front of him came to life, images frozen on the screen. “Play video A16.”

The image began to move as the door at the back of the office opened and a man and a blonde woman entered the screen. Behind him another woman moved in the shadows. He narrowed his eyes as four individuals moved in the dark, walking directly to Regina’s desk. He watched the blonde woman open the data port as if she knew exactly where it was hidden and then the man started typing on the screen.

Suddenly light was exposed in the room and men he didn’t recognize entered. A fight ensued and he watched as the group split apart, each taking on one of the assailants. And then his heart stopped.

“Enlarge video.” He demanded as the size increased. “Pause.” He stood up in front of the screen, leaning forward as if he was suddenly hallucinating. The woman standing with her face to the camera, a glint in her eye, a knife in her hand staring at the man in front of her was none other than the woman he had known his entire life, his wife, Mary Margaret.

He fell into his chair, staring at the screen in disbelief. It was impossible. Some sort of trick. There was no other explanation.

The dark-haired woman beside her was staring directly toward the camera. “Zoom in.”

The woman’s face was in the center of the screen. “Run facial scan.”

The screen began to move in front of him. “Match found. Ruby Lucas, 26, member of the Resistance, Warrant issued for arrest in 2051.”

David dropped his hand to his lap and exhaled loudly. His wife was in Regina’s office with a known member of the Resistance.

Clicking into his computer he navigated to the message he had sent himself from Regina’s port. Opening it he saw fragments of code. Whoever created this was good, but he was better. He clicked a few more times until words came into view.

Merlin,

My name is Emma Swan from Storybrooke, and we need your help. Our people are dying with no chance of help. Mayor Mills has been killed by the leader of the Hive; a man you already know named Mr...

David stared at the screen as the rest of the message corrupted on the screen, information that did not complete in the upload. What the hell was this bullshit? He had just seen Regina not ten minutes ago, nothing in this message could be true. Why would Mary Margaret be a part of this clearly made-up madness.

“Continue video.” He said, watching the rest of the interaction on the screen, his heart beating out of his chest as he watched his wife fall to the ground, the man climbing on top of her as something shimmered in the light and his wife crumpled underneath him.

He was confused and angry but relieved when he watched as his wife was helped out the door. He didn’t know how to feel from this obvious betrayal that he couldn’t explain or comprehend. He grabbed his laptop off his desk and shoved it into his bag, walking out of his office and locking it behind him.

He drove to his home, stepping into the dark house and waiting for his eyes to adjust. Was anything about his life real? Had everything been a lie? He had known his wife since they were children, he fell in love with her before they were teenagers. She had known him better than anyone and he thought he knew her. Had he been so wrong about the woman who had stolen his heart?

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He said into the blackness around him.

His com alerted him with a beep, and he read the message on the screen.

I know you’re confused, Mate. You have every right to be. If you want to know more, call me at this number, your wife’s life depends on you.

David’s heart was racing as he called the number.

“Hello.”

“Where the hell is my wife, what have you done to her?” He yelled into the phone.

“Dave, I need you to trust me.” The familiar voice sounded in his ear.

“Killian?”

“Aye.”

“Where the hell are you?” He all but growled into the receiver.

“That’s not important right now, you need to listen to me. Regina’s not who you think she is. You can’t trust her.”

“Says the person who just disappeared without a trace.”

“We have a lot to talk about, but we don’t have time. I know you, so I know you’ve watched the surveillance video already. You’re a good cop and I’m sure you have questions. The men who showed up, they belong to Gold.”

“Gold? That idiot lab guy?”

“He’s more than that. He’s Hive.”

David’s heart was pounding in his chest. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Stop thinking Dave, you just need to know that you can’t trust Regina and Gold has some dangerous stuff. He’s weaponized J2, carrying it in syringes. You have to be careful.”

“Why should I trust you, why should I trust anything you’re saying right now?”

“David, they used one of the syringes on your wife.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“I’m sorry Mate, I really am.”

He sunk to the ground, leaning against the wall. “Where is she?”

“I’ll be in contact.”

The line went dead, and David screamed into the night.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Mercy is Out of Your Reach: Chap. 2

Fandom: SEAL Team

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Clay Spenser, Jason Hayes, Lisa Davis, and the rest of the team

Read Chapter 1 Here

                                        XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“I want to know where they are now,” Jason demanded, hands on his hips as he paced the room in agitation. 

“We lost ISR because the drone hit a bird,” Davis said, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I’m contacting our allies to see if anybody eyes in the sky that we can take a look at.”

“Well do it faster,” Jason snapped.

“Jay.” Ray was leaning against the wall, calm as ever and it just pissed Jason off more.

“Don’t!” he said, holding up a hand in warning. “They were right there and we didn’t get to them in time and now they’re gone.”

“We’re all doing everything we can,” Ray said. “It doesn’t help anything to go flying off the handle.”

“Well it makes me feel better.” He ran a hand over his face. “I want to know why they were taken.”

“Might not be connected to the op,” Blackburn said. “Maybe they saw two Americans and thought it would be a good ransom grab.”

Jason fixed him with a look. “You really believe that?”

“I’m just trying to cover all our bases Jason.”

Things had gone to hell so unbelievably fast. One second they were listening in on a conversation, the next there had been screaming and banging and by the time Jason, Trent, and Brock had gotten into the café it had been emptied out. Clay and Sonny’s comms had both gone offline immediately and Sonny’s button cam shorted out shortly thereafter. They’d circled the whole town for nearly two hours, searching for any sign of their brothers before Blackburn had called them back to base.

It felt like they’d abandoned Clay and Sonny and it was eating at Jason’s gut. You didn’t leave your brothers behind. Not for anything. “You all should take a break,” Blackburn said.

God damn the man and his indefatigable calm in times like these. All Jason wanted to do was rip a room apart, while guys like Blackburn and Ray could just stand around like it was any other day; like having teammates in mortal danger was no big deal. “No. We’re not leaving until we find them,” he said.

“Nobody’s putting you on a plane home Jason. You all need a break,” Mandy said. “Go. We’ll call you when we find something.”

Not if; when. Leave it to Mandy to be so sure. But Jason knew that finding them was only half the battle. For all they knew their boys were already dead. And every moment they stayed missing would only make that more likely.

“C’mon Jay,” Ray said as the other guys moved slowly out of the room.

The team settled at a table in the makeshift mess, everybody eating out of duty rather than actual hunger. “You gotta eat Jason,” Trent said quietly as Jason stared moodily at his dinner.

“Yeah well they’re probably not eating.” Jason’s leg was jumping under the table and he ran a hand up and down his thigh, anxiety crawling inside him. There were two of them, they could support each other. Unless they weren’t together. And either way, with Sonny sick…

“Which is all the more reason you should,” Ray said. “Need to be on top of our game if we’re going to get them back.”

They were right so he swallowed something down, but his mind was still in overdrive. “Let’s go over it again.”

“We’ve been over it Jason, nothing’s going to change,” Full Metal said.

“We’re going over it again,” Jason ground out.

They all shot looks at one another but nobody protested further so he pushed ahead. “Ray and Full Metal were on overwatch. What did you see?”

Ray sighed. “Everything was going according to plan. We went high, rooftop across the street. View of the front of the café. I got on the scope, Metal was there with back up.”

“Clay and Sonny entered the café. Thirty-two minutes later some of Farhad’s guys entered. At forty-three minutes there was a bang and we saw smoke coming out of the front of the café,” Metal continued. “Nobody came out the front but civilians. The targets did not reappear and neither did Clay or Sonny.”

“And we were down the block in the van,” Brock said. “Eyes on the back door the whole time. Nobody came out there either.”

“Then how the hell did they get out of there?” Jason asked. “If they’d been taken on foot we would’ve caught up with them. Why didn’t we see them get thrown in a truck or a van?”

“Could have been an alley door,” Trent said. “Space between the buildings is so narrow, Davis said they couldn’t get a good look on ISR.”

“You’re telling me they took out two Tier One operators and managed to drag them down an alley?”

“They weren’t heavily armed,” Brock said. “Sonny was off his game. If they surprised them and there were enough guys…”

Jason worked his jaw. “We need another look at that café.”

He stood, intent on heading out immediately but Blackburn appeared as if he sensed his team leader about to fly off the handle. “Not tonight you’re not. Nobody outside the wire.”

“They don’t have—“

“Time. I realize that,” Eric said. “But you can’t go back in the dead of the night and start snooping around. If anybody sees you they could tip off the captors and then we’ll never find them. Not to mention it could compromise the op we came here for in the first place. Let us work the problem overnight and you can head back out in the morning.” He looked at the rest of the team. “Get some sleep. All of you. You’re going to need it.”

Jason felt the team watching him, waiting for the okay. He gave a short nod. “Go.”

His eyes stayed on Blackburn. “I want an answer Eric.”

“We all do,” Blackburn assured him. “Get some sleep. If we find anything I’ll come get you myself.”

Jason took his time heading back to their temporary bunk room, unable to stop his mind from turning over and over. All of this for some chatter that might not even be anything. They’d come here to find out when Farhad Mahmoudi was planning to arrive and who else might be meeting with him. Instead they’d ended up down two brothers.

The tightness in his chest was creeping back in and he took a few deep breaths trying to keep it at bay. He couldn’t lose it. Not now. Not with Sonny and Clay’s lives on the line.

Everyone was up before sunrise and when Blackburn saw them coming through the door he didn’t seem surprised. Davis and Mandy were both still there, Mandy looking at a map of the area while Davis had her ear glued to the phone.

“Anything?” Jason asked.

“We would have gotten you if there was,” Blackburn said. 

Judging from the many empty coffee cups littering the table none of the support staff had slept. Jason felt a rush of gratitude toward them and also a smidge of guilt. Yes, Bravo needed sleep to be ready for a rescue op, but it stung to leave the work up to the rest of the group. 

Davis hung up the phone, defeat all over her face. “I’ve called everyone I can think of. No one else had eyes on this area during the time Clay and Sonny were taken. France has a team in country, they said they’ll help if we need a rescue op, and everyone has promised to let us know if they hear chatter, but we have no additional visuals.”

It was clear from the silence of the group that they were disheartened. Hours of work and they were no closer to finding their brothers. Jason looked to Eric. “We good to go take another look?”

“I’ll authorize it,” Blackburn said. “But I don’t need to remind you to keep things quiet.”

“It’ll be like we’re not even there,” Jason told him, already halfway to the door.

They all piled into a trucks, choosing to leave Cerberus behind rather than attract attention with a domesticated dog on a leash. “Ray and Brock are going into the café,” Jason said as they drove. “Metal, Trent and I will scout the outside. Be on the alert. They took our boys once, let’s not give them anybody else.”

Ray met his eyes. “We’re going to find something.”

Jason nodded. They had to. There was no other choice.

Ray and Brock headed inside cafe while Trent, Metal, and Jason began casually scanning the street. Jason immediately walked to the back of the café and then around the side. Sure enough there was an alley. It was narrow, but just big enough for a man to walk through. Further inspection in the dirt showed him drag marks, making his chest feel tight all over again. 

“Jase!”

He looked up to find Metal and Trent beckoning him further down the alley. “There’s a door here,” Metal said, nodding toward it.

“The drag marks go right up to it,” Trent said. “If they took them into this building and came out further down the block or around the corner, could explain why we didn’t see anything.”

Jason nodded. “Let’s take a walk.”

They left the alley and continued their walk up the street. Crisscrossing tire tracks covered the road making it impossible to tell which might have belonged to a vehicle carrying two Navy SEALs. He was just about to suggest they move on when a shop on the other side of the street caught his eye. “Hey,” he nodded toward it.

“That a camera?” Metal asked.

“Looks like.” Jason thought for a moment. “Let’s get Ray and Brock over here.”

It didn’t take long for Bravo Two and Bravo Five to rejoin them. “Anything?” Jason asked.

“Lot of the same faces we saw yesterday,” Ray said. “Definitely a spot for locals. D’you find something?”

“There’s a shop across the street that looks like it might have a camera,” Trent said. “If we could get a look at that footage…”

One hastily constructed plan later, Ray and Brock wandered into the store, making sure to go as far from the door as possible before Brock “accidentally” smashed something very expensive looking. Jason snuck in the front door and slipped behind the counter unnoticed as the owner went back to yell at the two tourists who were destroying his merchandise. He felt a wave of relief when he immediately found the connections for the camera and an even more relief when it turned out to be an extremely old model with a tape. Hopefully the owner wouldn’t notice it was missing for a while. He pulled it and hustled back the truck, waiting anxiously for Ray and Brock to settle up and head on back.

“Did you get it?” Brock asked when he and Ray slid into the back. 

Jason nodded as Metal floored it and took them back to base.

God bless Davis who had somehow managed to procure an appropriate player for the tape by the time they returned. “What did you have to do to get this so fast?” Ray asked as she inserted the tape.

She smiled. “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

“Listen, it’s going to take time for us to go through this,” Mandy said. “And it doesn’t help to have you breathing down our necks. Go take a break. We’ll get back to you.”

“We’re not leaving,” Jason said. Why did everyone keep trying to kick them out of this?

“Mandy’s right,” Lisa said. “Having all of ya’ll standing around watching isn’t going to help. Get outta here.” She locked eyes with Jason. “You’ll be my first call.”

He nodded. He didn’t like it. But he trusted Lisa and Mandy. If anybody was going to find their boys, it would be them.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 7/?

Author’s notes: So this one is a little longer than usual, but not by much. Lot’s of stuff happening and I’d love feedback about the direction I’m taking this. I’m always open to suggestions!

Wordcount: 3524

Warnings: one F. bomb, but other than that, lots and lots of fluff.

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

Lilah was supposed finishing her breakfast and getting ready to go to work, but instead, she was browsing the New York Film Academy page, especially the Master of Arts in screenwriting and its admission application.

She didn’t even know why she was doing it. It wasn’t like Lilah was actually considering applying for it. She already had a master’s degree. Not only that, she already had a career that she spent the last ten years of her life investing in. This was just a stupid pipe dream and nothing more.

“Morning”, Isaac’s voice started Lilah out of her thoughts, and she hurried to close her laptop lid and turn to watch as he padded into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee, still on his PJs.

“Morning. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” Usually, Isaac worked from 8 to five or later whenever needed.

“We had some night shooting yesterday and it wrapped up around six,” he replied yawning and dropping on the chair in front of her, cradling his mug. “I’ve just gotten back and I’m planning on sleeping all morning.”

“Jesus! That’s some horrible hours,” Lilah commented with a wince and Isaac just nodded.

“And I’m one of the lucky ones because all the runners take turns helping out while the others take a nap. I don’t know how Keanu does it. The guy is a machine. But this was my last day anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Lilah asked surprised. “You quitted?”

“Yeah. It was good money, but it was getting in the way of rehearsals, both theater, and band.”

“Band? What band?” Lilah looked at him confused. Why didn’t she know about this?

“Oh right! You didn’t come to my last gig,” Isaac said and there wasn’t any accusation on his tone, but Lilah still felt bad. She had been with Keanu last weekend and missed his performance. “These guys liked my vocals and asked me if I was interested in joining their band. I said yes.”

“But what about musical theater and the Hollywood dream?” she asked, her eyes wide. How come she missed such a change in her friend’s life? Isaac just shrugged.

“I’m still doing theater, but you know I love to be on the stage too and these guys have a great sound,” he said draining his mug and picking up Lilah’s breakfast dishes to bring to the kitchen. “And I can still take on Hollywood in a different way. But to do that, I need time to rehearsal. So as of Monday, you’re looking at the newest barista for Novelsy.”

Lilah was at a loss of words faced with so many changes in Isaac’s life in such a short period of time. She was being a lousy friend, focusing too much on her own issues and missing Isaac’s and Jean’s lives.

“Oh. I know that look,” he said with a frown. “It’s the ‘I’m having a freak out’ look. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Isaac asked, tapping her temple gently.

“I just…” Lilah sighed. “I can’t believe I ended up missing so much in these last few weeks. I’m sorry.”

“Well, you have been a little self-absorbed lately,” Isaac pointed out with a small grimace. “But I get it. It’s the thrill of new love and all that.”

It was weird how Isaac’s words managed to be exactly right, but the truth behind them still took her by surprise. Because no matter how hard Lilah tried to fight it or pretend otherwise, she was in love with Keanu. Had been for a while now and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Oh honey,” Isaac sighed, catching her wide-eyed gaze. “You’re one of the smartest people I know, but when it comes to your own feelings…”

And could she really argue with that? It was staring her in the face this whole time and Lilah didn’t see it. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right, was it? She refused to see it because she was afraid. Afraid of what it could be and where it would lead and how it would end.

And this was so no what Lilah signed up for when started this thing with Keanu. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She kept repeating that he was her friend and that was all but none of her friendships ever felt like this. And to be fair, considering how sweet, humble, caring, intelligent and amazing Keanu was, did she even stand a chance of not falling in love?

“Are we having a meltdown at this time in the morning?” Jean asked in a yawn and filling a cup of coffee for herself.

“The penny finally dropped on the Keanu thing,” Isaac informed.

“Thank fuck! The oblivious thing was cute at the beginning, but it was starting to get annoying,” Jean said, her harsh words shaking Lilah from her daze. “Also, not fun to get kicked off my own place so you could have your little ‘not a date’ with Keanu.”

“I never kicked you out of the apartment!” Lilah complained, glaring at her friend and Jean rolled her eyes.

“Right. Because I wanna be here when you two are making heart eyes at each other. No, thank you.”

“Jean!” Isaac chided cutting her off. “There were a dozen ways you could’ve said that without coming off like a bitch.”

From the corner of her eye, Lilah saw Jean cross her arms over her chest, her lips pulling in a thin line of displeasure. She hated to be called out over her bluntness.

“But even though she could have phrased better,” Isaac continued, looking over at Lilah. “Keanu has been coming over a lot. Not that I mind, but it does take away some of our privacy, you know?”

Lilah sighed and nodded. He had a point. They both did. Lilah never thought she would be one of those people that ditched her friends the second they started dating. Not that she was dating Keanu but…

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“A little bit,” Jean agreed, but Lilah could see she was fighting a smile. “But we still love you.”

“We do,” Isaac agreed with a grin. “And you can start making up for the lost time by coming to my band’s gig this Friday night.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lilah assured, kissing his cheek. “Now get your ass in bed! You look exhausted.”

Isaac nodded and waved at them both, before disappearing into his bedroom. Lilah hesitated for a moment, before glancing at Jean, who was inconspicuously avoiding looking her way.

“Are we ok?” Lilah asked and Jean nodded with a sigh.

“I missed my friend, you know? I missed talking to you, knowing what was going on in your life and sharing mine.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, dragging Jean for a hug. “How about tomorrow, after my class, you and I get some retail therapy? Novelsy’s costume contest is next week after all.”

“A girl after my own heart,” Jean joked with a grin. “It’s a date.”

“Alright,” Lilah replied with a chuckle as she got up and head to her own bedroom.

She went to turn off her laptop, Lilah was confronted once more with the New York Film Academy page, which made her pause. When she told Keanu how she considered going to film school as a teenager, Lilah didn’t give him the full picture.

The idea of being a writer, creating stories and universes, especially movies, had always been a dream. She remembered reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time and having that mix of fascination and jealousy of Tolkien for being able to create such a fantastic, magical universe that entertained so many people. Lilah wanted to do that too. Leave a mark in the world, tell a story, make people laugh and cry and love that thing she created.

But Lilah also remembered how her father reacted when she said she wanted to apply for film school. He had actually laughed because he thought she was joking. She knew he didn’t do it to hurt her. He was looking out for her, wanting her to be practical about her future.

What were the odds of Lilah making it in that industry? One in a million considering that she was a woman of color? Considering that it wasn’t all depending on hard work? Was she even good enough to begin with? Well, there was one quick way to find out.

Her eyes shifted back to the computer and Lilah took a seat, browsing her archives. Writing samples were required for submission, a fictional piece and a non-fictional.

She could use one of the reviews she wrote for Novelsy’s blog as a non-fiction sample. Lilah had gotten positive feedback from those. The fiction piece would give her a bit more trouble and after some more searching, Lilah decided on a fantasy story she wrote during college.

Lilah would need to work out a few kinks, but she really liked that one, so she put on her headphones blasting some of her favorite music as the story poured out of her, her fingers flying over the keyboard in a way she never managed to do whenever she was writing her dissertation.

By the end of the morning, Lilah had close to five thousand words written and any thought prepping her class for tomorrow slip her mind, but Lilah didn’t feel guilty at all. There was only excitement as she proofread her material.

After she annexed the documents, Lilah rechecked the application form, hesitating over the campus options.  For a second, the cursor hovered over the LA option, before she selected the NY campus and submitted everything.

Lilah must be crazy for even considering LA. Even if for brief seconds. Her life was in New York. LA had nothing to offer her. Which was a lie, she knew, but fortunately, it was one easy to ignore.

Once that was taken care of, Lilah started to get ready to go to NYU. She had some data she needed to run through the analysis software and Lilah could only do it on campus. She was halfway through getting dressed when her phone rang, the screen showing Keanu’s name and selfie with the puppy beagle.

“Hey,” she greeted as how could Lilah have missed being in love with him for this long when just a phone call from him could brighten up her whole day? “How was filming last night?”

“It was good. Tiring, but good. Basil gave us the night off since we’re managing to keep up with the schedule,” Keanu replied, and Lilah could actually picture his proud smile. “I was thinking we could do something. Since I cut off our movie night short yesterday.”

“We don’t have to,” she said, reminded of Isaac’s comment earlier. “You must be exhausted.”

“A little bit, but…” he paused for a moment. “I want to see you.”

His voice was soft barely a whisper and it almost felt a little like a confession and it set the butterflies loose in her belly and she smiled.

“Well, we could watch something, get some pizza…”

“That sounds great. I’ll drop by later?”

“Sure, but promise to get some rest first?”

“I’m in bed right now. Don’t worry.”

And Lilah couldn’t help but conjure a picture of Keanu shirtless in bed, dark hair splayed over the pillow and hooded eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Good,” she croaked as she tried recomposing herself. “Sleep well.”  

It wasn’t until she hung up that Lilah realized what she had just done and winced. She was such a terrible friend, but now it was too late. She knew Isaac wouldn’t mind. He would be out rehearsing anyway, but Jean…

Lilah stepped out of the room, finding Jean cleaning the breakfast dishes. She hesitated by the counter, drumming her fingers on the top and Jean heaved a sigh.

“What did you do?” she asked, turning around, hands on her hips.

“I might have invited Keanu over,” Lilah replied with a grimace and Jean rolled her eyes. “Sorry!”

“Fine! But only because I have to do inventory anyway.” Lilah let out a happy squeal and squeezed Jean in a hug. “And you’re helping me with the Halloween contest! It was your idea after all.”

“I promise! Thank you!”

Lilah said her goodbyes to Jean and headed out, doing her best to push thoughts on Keanu and her brand-new revelation aside while she worked, managing to be somewhat successful until she got back home to find Keanu, browsing through her bookcase, dressing in a fitted jeans and a t-shirt so tight it seemed to be struggling to contain his biceps.

“Hi,” she greeted, and Keanu flashing her a warm smile.

“Hi. Isaac let me in. That’s ok, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be right with you. I’m just gonna take just a quick shower.”

“Sure.”

Lilah dropped her things in her bedroom and hurried to the bathroom that she shared with Isaac. There was only one suite in the apartment and Jean claimed it since the place was hers after all.  

She went through her usual shower routine, but it wasn’t until Lilah was drying herself that she realized she didn’t bring any clothes with her. Lilah was just so used to shower and then go back to her room to change it kind of became a habit.

If it was Isaac or Jean outside, Lilah wouldn’t even hesitate to step out, but it wasn’t them. It was Keanu and she would have to walk past him to go back to her room.

There was nothing else she could do at this point, so with a deep breath, Lilah pulled the towel tighter against her body, making sure that there wasn’t anything showing before she walked out, refusing to look his way. She did, however, hear his sharp intake of breath disguised as a cough.

Once she was safe inside her room Lilah leaned against the door and let out a sigh. She just paraded in a towel in front of Keanu! Shit! Did he look? She wondered for a second but shook herself out of it. That would lead her nowhere. Instead, she focused on getting dressed, coming back to the living room to find Keanu on the phone. He gave her an apologetic smile as his attention returned to the call.

“My publicist. Sorry about that,” Keanu said, hanging up. “But I’m all yours now.” Lilah couldn’t help her wide grin at the way Keanu took a second to realize what he said and cursed under his breath. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she chuckled. “It’s nice to be on the other side of those for a change.”

Keanu chuckled too, rubbing his nape in embarrassment and part of Lilah want to reach for him, pull him in a hug and a kiss, but that was a very dangerous line of thought so instead, she picked up the pizza menu.

“So, I have a very important thing to ask you,” she started with a somber voice. “It might define if this,” she gestured between them. “Will continue any further.”

“I’m already nervous,” he quipped, turning to look at her better.

“How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?” She inquired and Keanu shook his head in disbelief as he chuckled. “Oh, I’m serious. There is a right answer to this.”

“I don’t like it?” he replied with a hesitant smile and Lilah gaped at him in exaggerated horror

“And you call yourself Hawaiian!” she teased, clicking her tongue in disappointment and making Keanu laugh.

“You do know that Hawaiian pizza isn’t really Hawaiian, right?” He commented and she rolled her eyes.

“Fake Canadian then,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him and Keanu snorted in amusement. “Pepperoni?”

“Sure,” he agreed. Lilah called in their order before joining Keanu on the couch.

“So you’re going to Japan?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah. 47 Ronin’s premiere,” Keanu explained, and Lilah just hummed, avoiding his eyes. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You have a very expressive face, Bennett,” he said, and Lilah laughed.

“I don’t want to judge a movie based only on a trailer,” she started hesitantly.

“But you didn’t like it,” he completed with a chuckle.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, I just… Let’s just say Hollywood doesn’t exactly have a great track record on portraying other cultures.”

“You have a point,” Keanu relented, and Lilah was glad to see he didn’t seem upset with her comment. “We did our best to show respect for Japanese culture and the legend, though.”

“I’m sure you did. This is ok, right? Talking about your movies?”

“It’s fine. I like talking about what I do,” he assured, and she grinned.

“So, I can ask about John Wick? Because I still don’t know what’s about even though I’m technically in it?”

Keanu chuckled and quickly explained the general plot for the movie, hands waving around excitedly as he described the entire process behind getting the movie greenlighted and getting his friends Chad and David involved.

Lilah could tell not only how much Keanu loved what he did by the way he was smiling, by the eagerness in his voice, but she could also see that this wasn’t any movie for him. She hung onto every word of his, chin on her head and her chest felt about to burst at the overwhelming affection Lilah felt for him.

After a moment, Keanu fell silent and he once again did that ducked head, hand covering the mouth chuckle that Lilah learned to associate to him being shy or embarrassed about something.

And maybe he saw it in her eyes, so she quickly looked away. The last thing Lilah needed was Keanu catching on to her feelings and making everything awkward between them. She had come to enjoy their time together too much.

It was a bit of a relief when the pizza finally arrived because it gave them something else to focus on, beside themselves.

“You can try the Hawaiian if you want,” she offered after they moved to the couch to eat, a random movie playing on the TV just for noise. “I’m the only one who likes it in this house.”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s really good,” she said in a sing-song voice and Keanu snorted.

“You’re gonna annoy me into trying, aren’t you?” He asked with a sigh that really wasn’t annoyed at all. Lilah just nodded with a grin. “Fine. Give it here.”

Lilah didn’t know why she didn’t just hand him the slice. Instead, she moved closer and lifted it in front of him. Keanu hesitated briefly before he took a bite, lips brushing against her fingers as he did it. It sent shivers down her spine because Lilah hadn’t expected it to feel this intimate.

“And?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“It was better than I was expecting,” Keanu admitted sipping his beer and Lilah grinned. Small victories.

She brought the slice back to herself, but before she could take a bite, Keanu leaned forward and stole the last bit. The movement brought him so close his beard actually brushed again her cheek.

“Hey!” Lilah protested as he grinned smugly.

“You’re the one that wanted me to try it,” he pointed out, bumping his shoulder against hers. Lilah shook her head and picked up another slice, trying to hide her pleased grin.

They talked for a while longer, completely ignoring the TV. It was fun and comfortable, and Lilah knew she could probably spend the entire night like that, but it was getting late and she knew Keanu had to work tomorrow and so did she.

“I think we should call it a night,” she said, turning off the TV.

“We didn’t watch anything,” he pointed out and Lilah shrugged.

“It was still fun. I like just talking to you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Keanu replied, his lips tugging on a smile as he helped her clean up.

“So, Novelsy’s hosting its first costume contest next week. Afterward, Isaac’s theater group is reenacting Rocky Horror Picture Show in this bar. It’s basically a bunch of drunk people singing along to the songs, trying to remember their lines and failing miserably. It’s really fun, do you wanna come?”

“Sure,” Keanu agreed, and Lilah could see the doubt in his eyes, that was quickly replaced with a curious smile. “Are you gonna be in costume?”

“Definitely,” she replied, as she looked at him under her lashes. “Gotta be there to know what it is though.”

“Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

There was something in the way that Keanu said it, the way he was looking at her that just stole her breath, making her heart thunder in her chest and there was no way to see this as anything other than flirting.

“See you on Thursday, then,” she said, standing up to press a kiss on his cheek. She barely missed his lips and she really hoped Keanu noticed it was on purpose.

(tbc)

Go to part 8

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[amazingmsme]

I’ll Be Your Piano

Living under the radar wasn't ideal; the never ending shuffle from place to place, the constant jeopardy of their lives, yes, running away from a government that only cared for the value of your chopped up body certainly made for a shitty, but interesting life. It seemed like around every corner was danger and excitement. New and familiar faces riddled their lives on the road, scrambling for all the help they could get. They were grateful for the safe houses along the way. It was nice to know that some people had a mind of their own, and one that had a good amount of human decency as well. That combination was hard to come by these days.

Connor and Risa had gotten close after everything they've been through. It was only natural to gravitate towards the people you've endured trauma with. They become like a strong tether to ground you back to the shambles of the earth. Risa and Connor are each other's tethers.

But with a life so eventful, it made the boring parts stick out like a sore thumb. The lack of anything to do was a perfect breeding ground for paranoia and boredom. Connor kept finding himself looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had found them. Risa kept pacing aimlessly through the small, empty house searching for something to occupy herself. Her fingers kept twitching, itching to play a piano, but the house didn't have so much as a keyboard. Connor picked up on it and smirked. 

"Antsy, huh?" he spoke up from his spot on the couch, watching as she crossed the room to sit with him.

"Yeah..." she trailed off, leaning into him. "I just wish I had something to play to take my mind off everything." Connor sat up a little straighter to listen.

"I feel you, I feel like I've been going crazy lately, music might be nice," he said. She smiled sadly, "Too bad there are no instruments. I'd honestly love to hear you try and play a trumpet."

"Hey I'd rock a trumpet!" he defended himself, and brought his hands close to his mouth to mime playing a trumpet and making the accompanying sounds. She leaned back, laughter free flowing from her lips, and Connor felt himself fall even harder. He'd do anything to hear that laugh, to know he made her happy. "But I think I'd be more of a saxophone guy. That's the sexy instrument, right?"

She snickered and leaned back to look at him. "Didn't know you found instruments attractive," she teased. He put his hand on her face and lightly pushed her away, "You know what I mean!" She moved his hand away to glare at him playfully, but it didn't stop her from intertwining their fingers.

"Yeah I know," she said fondly, yet with a hint of sadness. Connor moved their hands and turned his palm up, taking her hand and moving it to his forearm. Her brows furrowed, "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, "Since you don't have a piano, I thought..." he trailed off.

"You could me my piano?" she finished for him. He smiled at him shyly and nodded. "Aww, that's so sweet!" She pecked a kiss to his cheek. "Anything special you want to hear?"

"You know that old 2000's song? The Black Parade?" he asked. Connor liked to consider himself a rebel, and considering the name he made for himself, he very much was one. So naturally, he was drawn to the alternative rock and stereotypical emo music of that era. She positioned herself sitting upright, her hands poised above his arm as if she were hovering above the keys. She closed her eyes, imagining the where each note fell.

"Alright, but if I play it, you have to sing."

"What?"

"You promised to be my instrument, so you make the music," she reasoned. He rolled his eyes, "Alright, fine."

G. The first note. Even though no music played, it still rang through Connor's head as clear as day. He was a little self conscious about singing in front of her, even though he knew she wouldn't judge. His voice was quiet and deep, with a soft tenderness Risa had never heard from him.

"When I was, a young boy, my father took me to the city, to see a marching band." He watched her fingers press into the skin on his arm, working from memory to play a silent song. She stopped about halfway through the song, her fingers coming to a stop.

"I can't remember the rest, and your arm doesn't give me much room to imagine the keys," she admitted, running a hand through her hair. Almost immediately, Connor laid on his back, patting his chest.

"Then let me give you a better piano, maestro," he looked up at her, wiggling his brows. She shoved his shoulder with a laugh, pushing him all the way down onto the cushions.

"Ok, but don't get any funny ideas," she warned pointedly. "Ms. Calding will probably be home soon." With that, she situated herself, letting her hands gently rest on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. "Anymore requests from the instrument?"

He thought for a moment before answering. "Maybe something classical? That's your favorite, right?" he asked. Her face lit up, "Right. How 'bout some Tchaikovsky?" He nodded and let his shoulders relax.

"Sure. Maybe if we get somewhere with service when we're on the road, we can listen to it." She liked the idea, but chose not to comment. Instead, her fingers barely pushed down as she played the opening chords. Even though she loved this piece, it just wasn't the same without a full orchestra. The song gradually grew in intensity, and her fingers moved faster.

Connor almost instantly regret his decision to offer up his body as a piano. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut to keep the laughter at bay. If Risa found out he was ticklish, she'd never let him live it down and constantly use it against him. However, he wasn't doing a very good job hiding it.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?" She was quick to make sure.

"Nonono, I'm fine, really!" He reassured her. She looked at him skeptically.

"I swear, if you're hiding another injury from me again-"

"I'm not!"

She went quiet, narrowing her eyes as though she were trying to see through steel. When he still didn't break, she rolled his shirt up slightly to check for any hidden bruises of scrapes. He let out a snort.

"Didn't believe me?"

"I do now," she said, letting go of his shirt and letting it fall to the middle of his stomach. She set to work again, fingers dancing the melody, picking up right where she left off. He couldn't help but to start squirming, and a few giggles started to slip out. Risa smiled, letting her hands move faster. She smirked as she asked, "Hey Connor, what's wrong? You're not ticklish, are you?" She knew the answer even if he didn't confirm it.

He shook his head, denying the obvious. "Nohoho," he tried his best to sound convincing. Risa wasn't buying any of it.

"Really? 'Cause your body language says otherwise," she stated. Her fingers worked up to his ribs, and he fought back a squeal. "Ribs make excellent piano keys, wouldn't you agree?" Connor did nothing but laugh and thrash around, shaking his head at the maddening sensation. "No? You don't think they do? Well what do you know, you don't play."

She then raked her nails from the top of his ribs all the way down. Connor arched his back with a shriek, kicking out his legs. "Y'know, when you first offered to be my piano I didn't think it would be as fun as actually playing, but I was wrong! This is so much better!" she cooed. She slowed down, listening to his laughter die off a bit. She walked her fingers up between each rib, leaving him twitchy and giggly. 

"Risaaaa," he whined. 

"Connorrrr," she mocked. She leant down, pressing their foreheads together as her hands continued their journey upward. His laughter got more breathy and frantic the longer she stared into his eyes. The anticipation kept growing, and it was killing him. She leaned farther, as if she was about to kiss him. Instead, she caught him off guard and targeted his neck, blowing a loud wet raspberry right below his jaw. At the same time, she dug into his underarms, causing him to clamp his arms to his sides. This only trapped them there, leaving him to writhe in ticklish agony. She took another deep breath and blew, and he hit the couch with his fist, unable to do anything else. 

"Ihihit's soho bahahad!" he cried out when she brought one hand up to scratch behind his ear. His laughter went up an octave as he shook his head around, trying to do anything to lessen the sensation. 

"Aaaaw, but you're so cute like this! Don't tell me the big bad Akron Awol can't handle a little tickling," Risa taunted him using the nickname given to him by the media. He managed to grab onto her wrist, but didn't push her away. Interesting. 

"He can't!" he choked out between laughter, making her laugh. 

"Oh really?" she asked, resting her hands on his stomach, letting him catch his breath. He nodded. She smirked, "Then we better keep this between us, shouldn't we?" She gave him a quick peck on the lips. Connor smiled into the kiss and pulled her back down. Her lips were slightly chapped and tasted sweet, and he savored every moment they shared. Risa wrapped her arms around him, drawing lazy designs on his tummy until he broke away into an adorable stream of giggles. She rested her head on his chest, watching as it bounced with laughter. 

"You make a really good instrument, you know that Connor?" 

"Ihihi do?" 

She smiled and looked up at him, never stopping the simple doodles marked out on his belly. "Mhm. Your laugh is the most beautiful music I've ever heard." He grabbed her other hand and laced their fingers together. 

"Then I'll be your piano."

[thelordofthepenblog-blog]

Rise Above, Pt. 1

The rain was heavy, hammering the stranger’s cloak like a hail of bullets. His outfit shimmered in the dim light from the lanterns that hung from the buildings on either side of the street, but the onlookers did their best to avert their gazes. To them, everything about the stranger was wrong. His gait, his appearance, his smell. “He is Touched,” the spirits whispered to each other in dread and fear.

His boots left deep imprints in the mud as he made his way to the large bathhouse that stood apart from the rest of the village. The huts around him were shoddy, barely held together by sweat and grime. The buildings near the cobblestone path that led to the bathhouse were much better, to give tourists a superior opinion of the village as they hurried from the rabble and into the richness of their destination. But he was not here for the illusions of wealth the village ruler tried to impose. He would study the truth, the reality the tourists tried to shun, what the Shogun so decreed for the weak. He would learn this truth, and be on his way.

The bright lights of the bathhouse loomed ahead, a rich building designed on the architecture of some long-dead civilization. Unlike the rest of the village, the real money was there. The owner of that establishment made certain the rest of the population was destitute and desperate, so they would be more agreeable to the small wages and long hours she imposed. Once, it would have sickened him. But that was before the Culling and the Shogun.

The bathhouse was five stories tall, but customers could only use the first three. The fourth floor, he knew, was set aside for the workers who could not afford homes, or the slaves who realized they could not pay the bathhouse’s exorbitant sums and so were forced to work off what they owed for the rest of their lives. The fifth level was for the owner herself, a massive, well-designed penthouse that would make even some of the nobility back in the city blush.

This he all knew from the Shogun’s own words before sending him here. It would not do for him to travel here blind. The woman in charge was crafty, tricking an entire village into becoming her slaves by flashing her wealth in their eyes and blinding them to her lies. So he slogged through the mud and the rain, finally coming to the bridge that connected the bathhouse to the rest of the village. It was much brighter than the rest of the village, so much that he had to blink a few times to clear his vision. Several greeters stood under umbrellas, greeting rich tourists with fake smiles and pleasant nothings. He ignored these and made his way across the bridge.

Halfway across, he was stopped by a large, muscled frog who grabbed his upper arm. “Who are you?” the spirit demanded, his voice gruff. “You are not dressed for this place.”

He did not turn to face the spirit. “I am unimportant. Do not bother with me.”

“Oh yeah?” The frog’s grip tightened. “And what’s with that massive sword on your back? Planning any trouble?”

“Not if you don’t give me a reason.”

The spirit barked a laugh, shoving him back toward the other side of the bridge, where he had come from. “Head home, little man, before I rip out your organs and decorate the bridge with them.” He patted the gun he had at his side.

“I have orders to speak with Mistress Zas. I am expected. Do not get in my way.”

“If she were expecting you, I would’ve been told. Scram.”

Many of the others crossing the bridge had slowed, curious as to how this confrontation would play out. His hand itched to draw his blade and cut the fool in half, but he forced himself to hold back. It would not do to anger Zas before he ever arrived. A part of him believed this was a sort of test, a way to see if he was truly worth her time. Though it was a poor decision on her part to ignore an emissary from the Shogun, he also knew she had been desiring to speak with the Great One in person for at least a century, if not more. This may be an attempt to obstruct his more indirect methods and force an encounter. Likely such an encounter would result in her death, but something told him such did not matter to her.

He straightened himself to full height, shifting his cloak just enough to reveal the part of him he kept hidden. “My employers would insist, spirit. They are not ones to be crossed.” He gestured to everything around them, the bridge, the people, the bathhouse, the village, each other. “Just look around.”

The guard had been already unnerved by whatever he had glimpsed beneath the cloak, but now his mind was already connecting the dots. “But you? Why would they send someone like you?”

Why indeed? The question had been lingering on his mind ever since he left District City 5 three days ago. The woman here had information, that was plain, something that they wanted to learn about desperately. But they would not tell him what exactly he was supposed to learn. They had simply told him to speak to Mistress Zas and listen to what she had to say, and “react accordingly.” The vagueness of it all infuriated him, but there was little he could do.

But he did not say any of this to the spirit. Instead he said as threateningly as he could, “I do not have to tell you, spirit. Now stand aside, or I will force you.”

The frog swallowed slowly. Then, steadily, gradually, he made his way back to his post, extending an arm toward the bathhouse entrance. He smiled, bowed, and made his way past the frog and toward the awaiting entrance.

It was much drier within the bathhouse than without. The floor of the main foyer was still wet, and he did not envy whomever would have to mop it up tomorrow. He ignored this and made his way to the desk towards the back. Many attendants were working behind it, and he approached the only one not being spoken to. She was small, slight of frame. To him, she couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen. A slave, then, owned via contract by Zas for the rest of her life. A miserable existence for someone so young, but he ignored this.

She looked up as he approached, and to her credit she didn’t seem the least bit phased. He knew he seemed intimidating, even when stooped as he was since leaving the frog behind. Covered in a heavy black cloak that hid half his body from view, hood over his head, clad in heavy combat gear with a large sword over his back, many would be beside themselves with terror. And that was to humans; spirits could normally just look at him to know he was wrong. Touched, they had whispered in the village. But this poor young girl had likely seen much worse than him, and her whole life was set to be a miserable existence in a massive bathhouse owned by a greedy spirit.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a flat, bored tone.

“I wish to reach the top floor,” he replied. “How would I do that?”

She looked him up and down. “You here for a guard job? Mistress Zas is not looking for any applications right now.”

“No. I already have much more...lucrative work elsewhere. I simply need to speak to her on behalf of my employers.”

She turned to her computer and tapped in a few commands. “Who’s your employer? It doesn’t matter who they are; unless they are truly important, I doubt Mistress Zas is going to take time from her busy schedule to deal with you.”

He leaned in close, murmuring only two words, but they were enough to get her to freeze up. “The Shogun.”

Her head slowly turned to face his, eyes wide with shock. She took a closer look at him, and her eyes only grew wider. Her head then whipped back around to her computer as her fingers flew across the holographic keyboard. Two minutes passed before she was done. “Mistress Zas is expecting you.” She reached beneath the desk and handed him a lanyard with a guest I.D. clipped to it. “Head to the employee entrance over there, and present this I.D. to the elevator guard. He will help you from there.”

He took the I.D. and bowed. “Thank you.”

She waved him off and returned to her duties, the strange servant of the Shogun already pushed out of her mind. He made his way toward the door she had indicated, locked by an electronic scanner. He swiped his new I.D., waited for the door to click open, and made his way inside.

Unlike the foyer, the hallway the door led to was quiet, largely empty. There were very few doors here, each of them leading toward some important backroom service. It was some time before he found an elevator, guarded by a burly human this time. The guard glared at him as he approached, but when he presented the I.D. he stepped aside and punched in a few commands to the keypad behind him. The elevator door slid open, and the man wordlessly gestured for him to enter. He thanked him, then stepped inside.

As the elevator rose, he thought over everything they told him about Mistress Zas. An old crone from the Spirit World, she had quickly taken advantage of the inherit weakness of humanity to establish a commercial hold over the area. Her bathhouse used to be part of a much larger chain, but then her competitors drove her out of the market by secretly marking several of her establishments during a Culling. With many of her workers dead and buildings destroyed, those same competitors tried to buy her out. They backed off after Zas devoured one of the buyers, but were able to work out an agreement. Zas held onto one last bathhouse and would rule it and the village beside it however she wished.

In business, she was simply the owner of a popular tourist destination. In the underworld, however, she was reputed as a great information broker, having eyes and ears everywhere. Some said that she used this network to get back at the competitors that tried to destroy her business, but she never confirmed nor denied this. The Shogun didn’t care either way, for all the businesses were nothing to him, but she had her uses whatever her agenda.

The elevator chimed, and the door slid open. He stood before an impressive pair of double doors, ornate and gold. The path from the elevator to the door was marked by a long blue carpet, on either side of which were flowering plants placed atop stone pedestals. The lamps were dim, so the shadows were long and dark. He could hear the rain drumming against the roof, but there were no windows for him to observe it.

He made his way to the doors. They stood tall, standing from the floor to the ceiling high above. He reached up to knock, but the door quietly opened just before his knuckles met wood. Stepping inside, he beheld a massive office, dim like the other room but seemingly even more so. It was more ornate too, blue and gold mixing together in patterns of dying trees and withering landscapes. A bookshelf stood in a corner, but it was sparsely populated. A set of great bay windows dominated the left side of the room, revealing the large ocean and the rainstorm that raged at it.

Seated behind a desk filled with coins was a ghastly old woman, short and frail and yet still intimidating. She wore an elaborate black kimono, her fingers decked out with rings and tipped with long talons. Her massive nose was hooked and crooked, and her black hair was arrayed like a halo of dark feathers. Her too-large eyes did not look up when he entered, focused entirely on counting her gold. He stepped into the middle of the room, yet still she did not look up. It was only when he cleared his throat that she made a response at all, and it was not one he expected. “You didn’t close the door.”

He started. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes you should be. I’m old; I can’t handle the cold air like you.” She waved her finger, and he heard the door slam shut behind him. “And as much as my workers would love to piss on my grave, I won’t give any of them the satisfaction.” She looked at him then, giving him a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “So then. Let’s get to business, shall we?”

He nodded. “The Shogun has told you what I need to know, correct?”

“Oh yes yes. Your masters in the Tower told me what to do long before they told you.” She gave him a sharp look, her grin fading for a simple smug smile. “But what have they told you, I wonder.”

“That’s irrelevant,” he replied immediately.

“Is it? They call you their favorite tool, but they don’t even trust you enough to tell you everything in person. No, they send you to an out-of-the-way slum many miles away to let some old woman inform you.” The grin returned, as unnerving as it was before. “And they expected me to be honest with you, banking on my fear and admiration for the Shogun. While those are definitely in play here, I do not share the same emotions for you. Not at all. Why should I? You didn’t intimidate my guard, the reputation of your masters did that for you.”

Annoyance gave way for anger, and he snapped, “Are you going to insult me all night, or are you going to do give me what I came here for?”

She spread her hands. “Fine, fine. The Tower has already paid me for this, so there is nothing to keep me quiet.” She lowered her gaze to her desk and her money, resuming her counting. “There was an incident several weeks ago. Something very important to me and to the Shogun was stolen, and now you’re supposed to get it back.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Why would you have something important to the Shogun? He would keep it near his person at the Tower if that were the case.”

“Sometimes it is best to keep something important far away from you, to mitigate the chance an enemy might get a foolish idea.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I think it does. It is not my problem if you cannot understand it.”

He chose to ignore that. “What happened?”

She didn’t reply for a moment, instead focusing on counting her money. When she was done, she looked up at him and folded her hands on her desk. “Tell me. What do you know of the Time Before?”

“Little and less. Does it matter? The Shogun is the past, present, and future. The Time Before is irrelevant.”

“History is never irrelevant, especially when it concerns something like this.” She grinned. “Would it surprise you to know the Great One wasn’t as all-powerful as he is now?”

In a flash, he ripped out his sword, crossed the room, and pressed the tip of his blade into the crone’s throat, knocking her money off the desk and onto the floor. “Blasphemy!” he hissed.

She did not seem concerned that he could behead her without a second thought. “Kill me and what I have to say dies as well.”

“I’m certain the Shogun will not mind,” he replied. “Not with you spouting lies and slander about his power.”

She laughed, a harsh, terrible cackle that resonated through the office like the screech of a chalkboard. He nearly killed her simply to shut her up. “Then you doom him and yourself.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

She pointed to his sword. “Remove this first.”

He hesitated for a moment, but finally he reluctantly did so, stepping back and lowering his weapon. He did not sheath it, something that Zas noticed as her gaze slid to it for a brief moment before looking at him once more. “A very long time ago, before there was a you or even a me, someone sought to destroy the Shogun before he could ever rise to power.” “Impossible. No mortal weapon could ever hope to harm him.”

“Yes. But the weapon carried by this would-be hero was forged by powers equal to that wielded by the Shogun. The two fought a great duel atop the mountains of what we now know as District 5, one that my grandmother claimed lasted several days. But finally the Shogun won, and killed this pathetic hero after a long, long struggle. He claimed his weapon as his prize, the only thing that could ever hurt him.”

“He did not destroy it?”

“He couldn’t. Prolonged contact with the blade hurt him dearly, and like him it was impervious to mortal weapons. So instead he had it locked away, where no one could reclaim it and threaten him with it.”

“I still do not see how relevant any of this is,” he said.

“He had it locked away long before he built the Tower. When he finally completed it, he left the sword where he had sealed it, burying it behind a massive rockfall. He did so with the hope nobody would find it.” She grinned. “But curiosity killed the neko, as the humans say. Eventually someone dug it out and sold it to a collector. When he passed, his family sold it to another collector, whose family later sold it again...do you see where I am going with this?”

He did indeed. “It eventually came to you.”

“Yes. When I received it at an auction seventy-three years ago, I did not realize its importance until my grandmother came for a visit. She recognized it immediately as the sword that nearly killed the Shogun, and immediately sent a message to our Overlord herself. He never came here – disappointing, really, but what can you do? – but he ordered me to keep an eye on it, make certain none ever took it from its place. For seventy-three years, I obeyed.”

“What changed?”

“I sent one of my slaves to clean my trophy room several weeks ago. I don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden she was carrying that sword and cutting down my guards left and right.” Her smile faded. “She was a killing machine, slaughtering my men like a farmer slaughters his pigs. I had never seen anything like it.”

“How did she escape?”

“My men had her cornered on the bridge. They demanded she surrender; they were too afraid to get close. She refused, and jumped off into the ocean.”

“She died.” The drop from the bridge to the ocean was more than twenty meters; no human should’ve survived. “I am to retrieve the sword before someone else can.”

“No and yes. Though my guards insist otherwise, the girl is alive.” She reached into a drawer behind her desk and pulled out a sheet of golden paper. “If she had died, this would be a dull white, not the brilliant gold it is now. She’s still out there somewhere, on the run. I don’t know if she realizes the significance of that weapon, and it doesn’t matter. This is where you come in.” She held out the paper – a contract, he realized – and motioned for him to take it. “You are a Touched. You can go where few others can. And with the contract, you can track the girl and reclaim the sword before someone else can.”

“Why can’t you do it? Or a Hunter from the Tower?”

“Too many of my men died, and I’m not about to waste money hiring and training replacements. And Hunters are easily noticed; if someone were to see a Hunter on the prowl, everyone that stands against the Shogun will realize something of significance is loose. But you, a Touched, can move without drawing attention. You alone can find her for your masters.”

He yet hesitated. “How do I know any of this is true?”

That awful grin returned to her face. “Why would the Tower waste our time by sending you here if they even suspected I would lie to you? Speak to the frog if you do not believe, or I could show you the trophy room she smashed on her way out, or the security footage I possess.”

“So she stole a sword,” he allowed. “It does not mean it is the same one from your story. The Shogun never showed up to see it himself, after all.”

“He did not want to. He would rather the sword be destroyed, but he cannot find a way to do so. As a result, he wants as much distance between himself and the weapon as possible. It has great power; I could feel it thrumming even when I locked it in the trophy room. And it was like the roar of a lion when that girl took it.” She grimaced. “You must get that sword back. This is the command the Tower and the Shogun have given you.”

He recalled her earlier words. “No, they send you to an out-of-the-way slum many miles away to let some old woman inform you.” “Why would they send me to speak to you if it was something so important?”

“They would prefer I not answer that, but to hell with it. I’m old, and I don’t give a shit about their personal plans.” She smiled grimly, as though she were taking immense satisfaction from this. “Bottom line, my dear, is that the Tower does not trust you. They fear that if you learn of the sword, you’ll use it against them. So they sent you to me first, and then to another lead, and then another, on and on until you find the girl, deal with her, and take the sword back. We were each to keep an eye on you, to make sure you didn’t get any...funny ideas.” She gestured to his still-drawn sword. “Considering what happened a few minutes ago, I doubt that will be a problem.”

He looked to his blade, then returned it to its sheath. He took the contract from Zas, his reaction on the outside calm. On the inside, however, there was a kettle simmering with resentment. Even after all he had done for the Tower, they still did not trust him. Not at all. They still sent him out on missions that required him to check in with someone constantly, and even when the fate of their entire regime hung in the balance they still slapped him with red tape. And all because he wasn’t like them. That he was Touched.

“What lead are you to give me?”

“I was supposed to send you to an acquaintance of mine in the next town over, but that would be a big waste of time. Instead, I’ll tell you that the ocean current would’ve carried the girl to a beach several miles west of here. She’s likely moved on from there, but it is as good a place to start as any.”

“I still don’t entirely believe you about the sword.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“And why help me at all? What’s your stake in this?”

The crone grinned. “Why, if the Shogun dies, I’ll never have a chance to meet him. And then how will I ever show him my appreciation?”

That led to a mental image he wanted no part of. “Should you prove truthful and your information useful, I will see what I can do about arranging a meeting.”

“An empty promise. The Shogun listens to no one, and certainly not you.”

He turned to leave, shoving the document into a pocket within his cloak. The crone spoke up again. “Before you go, you should know it’s rude to leave without telling me your name.”

“You did not tell me yours.”

She grinned. “Because you already know it. But the message I was sent only referred to you as ‘the Touched.’ They did not say your name. So what is it?”

He paused for a moment, considering whether or not to tell her. There was no reason to; he could walk right out the door without telling her a thing, and Zas could not stop him. To do so would obstruct his mission, and then he would be free to kill everyone in the bathhouse. But the fact that the Tower did not deign it important to inform the crone of his name filled him with something of a fury, and so that finally won out.

“Genji,” he replied, moving to the door. “I am Genji.”

[nickireadstfc]

The Raven King, Chapter 4 – Andrew Does Shit No One Expects Him To, Pt. 2

In which Orange Sportsball finally starts to form into something resembling teamwork, the Foxes drag Neil for “I’m fine”, I suggest a quality mascot design, and Neil pulls some sweet stunts, only to be dramatically and jaw-droppingly out-stunted by Andrew ‘Extra’ Minyard.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

GUESS WHO’S FCKNG BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have risen from the ashes of my shattered laptop, finally ready to once again bring you the foxy shitpost content you love and deserve. I’m writing this from a Dell brick that probably came out while I was still in elementary school and weighs as much as a small child, but I don’t care. It has a keyboard and a screen and Microsoft Word, and that’s all that matters.

Back not with a fizzle, but with a bang: I bring you an event filled with drama, shade and Extra, brimming with excitement and recklessness –

The first actually epic Exy game of this series: Palmetto State vs Belmonte University.

(This is a tad longer to make up for lost time, so strap yourselves in.)

           They were driving back after the game instead of checking into a hotel for the night. (…) They could have just hired a driver like most schools did, but Wymack was almost as leery of dealing with outsiders as his Foxes were. It was apparently better to be uncomfortable but safe than to trust a stranger with his fractured team.

This is ya friendly reminder that Wymack is a badass protective mother hen and deserves everything good in this world. My dude :’)))))))))) #dicksoutforwymack

           They stopped for gas and a bathroom break, stopped again for a quick dinner, and crossed a time zone on their way to Nashville.

And this is ya friendly reminder that American is large as hell. DIFFERENT TIMEZONES. IN THE SAME COUNTRY. How is this a real place.

They arrive at the stadium and Neil is once again faced with his worst enemy (besides new clothes):

Communal showers.

           The only reason the Foxes had private stalls on the men’s room was because Wymack specifically commissioned them. Neil forcibly focused back on the task at hand. First he had to survive the game, then he could worry about the showers.

I initially wanted to make fun of the fact that this is a real sentence, but actually I kind of understand what it’s like to not want to show parts of your body to everyone, so. He gets a pass.

Also, the idea of trans!Neil just does not leave my head. I want a billion pieces of fanart/fanfic now.

It’s almost game time!

           Neil didn’t see the Vixens, the Foxes’ all-girls cheerleading squad, or their mascot Rocky Foxy.

The have a fucking mascot??? Oh my actual God. What is it, an oversized Fox? Complete with a jersey, a black eye and a big FUCK YOU spelled on its forehead to match the team?

Why have we never heard of this before, this is the best thing ever.

           [Belmonte’s Terrapin mascot] stopped a safe distance back from their benches to make a couple crude thrusts at them. Nicky was happy to return it until Wymack swatted him upside his head.

Oh Nicky, never change. <3

           Kevin pulled one of his racquets free, fingered the strings like they might have come loose on the drive, and went over to the court walls. He didn’t spare the crowd a single look; all he cared about was right in front of him.

And if you look to your left, you’ll see Kevin being his usual Exy-obsessed, stoic and mighty self.

Also ahehehehe… Fingered. Hi, I’m 12.

As they are getting ready, Neil gets some sweet advice from Kevin – basically, only do boring ass gameplay until the second half and then go so hard you and I both bust a nut, also Andrew should realistically collapse field from withdrawal but he’ll probably hold up through sheer ego alone.

Sounds legit and like there could be nothing going wrong with it, at all.

We also briefly meet Katelyn, Aaron’s crush and – as I’m guessing – probably his date for the banquet thingy they’ve got coming up soon.

(You think I forgot about that, didn’t you. I never forget about opportunities for Fox banter, dress-up and hilarious social situations.)

However it’s not entirely a fun encounter as it’s time for another episode of our popular show What The Actual Fuck, Andrew?:

           “Oh.” Andrew slapped his fist into his palm as if the answer had just occurred to him. He flashed Matt a wicked grin but answered in German. “Maybe he’s afraid she’ll die on him like the last woman he really loved.”

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ANDREW. Also, what the actual fuck, backstory. I need it now.

No time to ponder on it, it’s game time, fuckers!

We’re kicking things off a bit unusual – literally:

           Neil listened for a serve that didn’t come. For a second he was afraid Allison would lock up and refuse to move. He was halfway to Herrera before he heard the distinctive thump of a ball against Andrew’s oversized racquet. Allison had served it back to him, and Andrew smashed it up the court toward the strikers.

Have I mentioned how much I love functioning teamwork amongst my children? Because fuck, yeah.

Have I mentioned what I also love? Some good ass Kevin/Neil Exy action.

           The only bright point was realizing his lessons with Kevin were paying off. (…) Passing wasn’t what Neil wanted to do in this game, but he could already see how he was improving. His shots were harder and more accurate, and it took him less time to figure out where to throw.

My beb :) improving :) being taught by Kevin because Kevin sees the heaps of potential in this boy and wants to make him the best he can :) I’m fine :)

           Wymack (…) send out his substitutes. Neil wasn’t between Kevin and the door, but Kevin detoured past him anyway on his way out.

           “Destroy him”, he said.

           Neil felt like he’d been waiting for this all his life. “Yeah.”

Fuck yEAH :’)))))))))))

(Again, reminding you all that I am passionate multishipper who gets into p much any ship if dynamics present themselves unto her, unless they are super problematic. If I make any comments about ships you don’t like – cool, we all have our own tastes but please don’t send me rude comments about it.)

From that point on, my friends, the game finally catches me and holds my attention way more than the first game did. It’s on, you guys. Passes are flying left and right and our faves are working together, I really cannot stress enough how much I love functioning teamwork.

And then, of course, Neil pulls This Shit™:

           He knew Herrera was right behind him for a body check. If he got crushed between the wall and Herrera, he’d lose the ball in the fight. Neil caught the ball right off the wall but didn’t try to protect it. Instead, he gave the butt of his racquet a hard pop with one fist. It sent the ball flying straight up out of the net. He dropped to his knees in the same breath.

           He almost wasn’t fast enough. Herrera crashed into him at full speed a half-second later, but Neil wasn’t where Herrera was expecting him to be. He tripped over Neil’s body and (…) crashed into the wall head-first. (…)

           Neil scooped the ball up and took off for goal. (…) He looked only at the goalkeeper and knew he was going to score. He put all of his first-half frustration behind his swing. The goalkeeper swatted at it and missed. The wall lit up red to confirm the point.

FFFUCKKK YEAHHH. This is the most badass shit he’s done since The Talk Show Incident™ (although nothing tops that ofc) and I am way proud of my son.

Also, Neil dealt with that backliner how I deal with my responsibilities: Letting them come at me full-speed and then swiftly ducking out of their reach.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Not before long, the first half is over and they’re at an even score! Amazing, wonderful, 100/10 proud mama right here.

           Neil couldn’t feel his feet, but he assumed they were down there somewhere. The shoulder he’d hurt in the first half was still throbbing thanks to the well-aimed blows of his new backliner mark.

What a fucking asshole move. Oh, you’re already injured there? Let me hit you a couple extra times, just for good measure, just to really fuck you up.

Remember that thing about Andrew staying off his meds, and how it’s going totally well? Yeah.

           Andrew stood a silent stone in their midst, looking a thousand miles away from all of this. He was a vacuum his teammates rowdy cheer couldn’t touch.

           “Stop it.” (…)

           Andrew slid a bored look Neil’s way. “I’m not doing anything.”

           “Exactly,” Neil wanted to say, but he knew it was a senseless argument. He didn’t have the right words for that gnawing feeling in his stomach.

Ah yes :)))

Wymack shows up and scolds them for not pushing harder earlier, yadda yadda, team talk. And then, I present to you the genuinely funniest thing to happen this chapter:

           Abby came to Neil last and stayed with him, feeling the line of his shoulder armour through his jersey. “How are you doing?” (…)

           “I’m fine.”

           Nicky fist-pumped in triumph. “Thank you for being so predictable, Neil. You just scored me ten bucks with two words.”

           Matt look up. “Are you serious? Who the hell bet against you?”

           Nicky jerked a thumb at Kevin. “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

I am hOWLING. I cannot believe they bet on his “I’m fine” oh my god this is the bEST.

DRAG. HIM.

The running gag of Neil “I’m fine” Josten will never not make my day. Neither will the Foxes’ obsession with betting on everything. I LOVE IT.

Kevin, never able to be anything but serious, drags him even more, but not in a fun way:

           “You’re an idiot. Do you see this?” he brandished his left hand at Neil. (…) “Injuries are not a joke. They are not something to gloss over. (…) If you ever say ‘I’m fine’ about your health again, I will make you rue the day you were born.”

Yikes.

           Abby eyed Neil. “I’ll ask again, then. Are you okay?”

           “I’m –“ It was too automatic a response. (…) “It’s just sore. So long as I can keep my mark off my right side I’ll be – okay.”

           Matt laughed at the near-miss. “I don’t see this experiment ending well, Neil.”

           “Some people are just hardwired to be stupid,” Wymack said.

I’m literally loving every single thing about this.

Fun times over, they go back on the field for second half, where Neil sits out on the sidelines at first and uses this opportunity to talk about his favourite subject: Andrew.

           “Why does Andrew do this?” Neil asked, unable to stay quiet any longer. “If he doesn’t care about Exy, what’s the point of going through this every Friday?”

           “Would you want to be crazy high every day of your life?” Matt asked.

No, but in my opinion, that still doesn’t add up. He could have probably picked any day to go meds-free, Wymack would have taken him anyways – I don’t know, pick every Sunday or every Monday or every Wednesday after lunch, it doesn’t matter. Why Exy?

The only logical reason to pick Exy days over other days is the possibility that – shocking! – Andrew does care about this dumb sport after all.

Excited for the final explanation of this. I have a hunch there’s still more to it.

In other news – my feelings:

           The Foxes were notorious for their shoddy teamwork, so most people forgot they were a Class I school. (…) If the Foxes could get over their differences and learn to compromise every once in a while, they’d be a formidable force. (…)

           Neil wanted to be part of this evolution. He wanted to feel the team click into perfect synchrony, even if it lasted only a moment.

Give me all that good teamwork, and give it to me now.

           The Terrapins came as hard as they could, but the Foxes shoved back with a ferocity the home team wasn’t expecting. They were exhausted, but Matt rallied the defense around him and Neil had permission to run himself ragged on the offense. (…) Every minute on the court brought him one minute closer to saying goodbye to Exy forever. He didn’t want to miss a single second.

As always, angst is the best motivator.

They’re all getting fired up and playing their hearts out when we near the most dramatic part of the game – the Foxes in the lead by one point, sixty seconds left on the clock. And then –

           Eight seconds from the end a terrapin striker got the ball. Aaron ran after him, but he was too exhausted to close the gap. The striker’s ten steps took him all the way to the foul line for his shot.

Oh shit.

           The goal was too wide and Andrew too small; there was no way Andrew could stop a shot this close-range. (…) Even if Andrew could get there fast enough, the ball was too low to the ground for him to swing his massive racquet.

Oh. Shit.

           Except Andrew was moving before the striker finished taking his shot, as if he already knew where the striker was going to aim, and he didn’t even try to swing. He threw himself at the ground as far over as he could and slammed his racquet down between the ball and the goals so hard Neil heard wood crack all the way across the court. He was just fast enough; the ball hit the taut strings of his racquet and bounced off.

OH SHITTTTTTTTT!!!!! BOI!!!!!! THE FUCK!!!!!! IM YELLING!!!!

This is exactly the sort of Extra and Dramatic Shit™ I was missing.

HOLY SHIT, WHAT A SAVE.

And with that, the game is over, FUCK YEAH.

Andrew, of course, is now completely done.

           Kevin didn’t have to ask what was going on. He’d lied to cameras for years and knew how to buy Andrew time. (…)

           Andrew let go with one hand and gestured. Kevin gestured back as if having an actual conversation. The only sound either of them made was the desperate gasp of air through clenched teeth as Andrew tried not to get sick in front of the crowd.

Cool move, actually. They seem to have done this before? I continue being beyond intrigued by their dynamic.

           The rest of the team fell in around them, bringing the celebration to their strikers and forming an impromptu barricade around their fallen goalkeeper.

Team <333

Protect that smol sick bastard, he just saved all your asses.

They get Andrew off the court safely, and with that, it’s good things all around.

           Neil had never seen Wymack smile like this. It was small but fierce, as angry as it was proud. “That’s more like it. Draw sticks and figure out who’s helping me fend off the press. The rest of you get your sticky, stinky asses to the showers.”

What a DAD. Love him.

           “Renee and I will handle it,” Dan said as they headed to the locker room. “Neil, you can use the girls’ showers while we’re busy.”

           Neil stared at her. “What?”

           Dan frowned at him, so Matt explained. “There aren’t stalls here.”

LET ME FUCKING LOVE YOU. I cannot get over this move, what the hell, that is so sweet.

Foxes being there for each other :’) I’m fine :’)))))))))))))

           Neil had noticed, but he hadn’t thought his teammates would. That they had, and that they were doing something about it, knocked the wind out of him. He tried to answer, but he didn’t know what to say. The best he managed was, “Is that really okay?”

           “Kid, you’re killing me,” Nicky said. “Why do you always get that deer-in-the-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?”

Yet another installment in our popular series Neil Doesn’t Realize People Actually Care About Him, episode 4 of a billion!

Before we finally leave this long-ass trip of a chapter, Andrew briefly joins Wymack, Andrew, and Andrew’s new best friend Johnnie Walker Blue for a chat:

           “Why did you pay for stalls, Coach?”

           Wymack lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe I knew you’d need them one day.”

           Andrew smiled around the mouth of his bottle. “Neil is a walking tragedy.”

           “You’re a pretty pathetic sob story yourself,” Wymack said.

Smol beans :’) bonding over how fucked up they are :’) love em.

Also #dicksoutforwymack, all day, every day. Maybe I knew you’d need them one day, holy shit, please have my platonic babies.

           Andrew headed for the door, but Neil put a hand in his path. “How did you do it? How did you know where to go?”

           “Coach said Watts always takes his penalty shots to the bottom corner. With the game riding on him he was bound to do the same.”

           Neil stared at him, startled and disbelieving. (…) It’d been an off-the-cuff remark amidst a lot of other information. Neil hadn’t thought Andrew was even paying attention to Wymack’s spiel.

Well, my dude, seems like someone gives more fucks than we all were starting to think. OF FUCKING COURSE. I’m still grinning my face off writing this.

And with that, they’re off, back on the bus home, and we’re letting this chapter ring out but some good ol’ Neil “Oh shit, what’s this, good feelings, get them away from me” Josten.

           As he listened to them, Neil realized he was happy. It was such an unexpected and unfamiliar feeling that he lost track of the conversation for a minute. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this included or safe. It was nice but dangerous.

           Someone with a past like his, whose very survival depended on secrecy and lies, couldn’t afford to let his guard down. But as Nicky laughed and leaned closer to talk about one of Neil’s goals, Neil thought maybe he’d be okay for just one night.

:’))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Nicki out.

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