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so-very-small · 6 months

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it's not that difficult | doc ock x shrunken!reader part two

[link to part one]

[ao3 link]

Summary: It's been a week since you shrunk down in front of Otto. One week in a bird cage, of being a lab rat, and you decide it's time to escape. Of course it won't be that easy.

a/n: this was written at the request of @miniemew! it's a continuation of my previous Otto x tiny fic, and it was a blast to write. reader is gender neutral, and this goes heavy on the fearplay. that said, I hope y'all enjoy!

The past week has been a strange mix of awful and mundane.

And the open bird cage before you seems almost more like a test than a blessing.

Tests. That's what the past week has been. Otto had swept you away, into some dingy apartment that looked far too normal to belong to a supervillain. Still stuck at the unimpressive height of two inches tall, there was nothing you could do when he dropped you in a bird cage before vanishing. Despite his intense curiosity, the man had other things on his plate, evidently. He was gone for most of the nights and mornings, but in the evenings, he always had a few minutes to spare for you.

For studying you, more accurately.

Checking your vitals, measuring your height, maybe an endurance test on a hamster wheel - which was now more annoying rather than outright embarrassing. On one occasion he had drawn some blood with a needle that seemed too tiny to exist. Whatever data he had gleaned from you was carefully recorded in a notebook, before he returned you to the bird cage.

(To be fair, it actually is a pretty nice bird cage.)

It's silver, the sturdy bars just thick enough that you can't bend them out of the way, and spaced too close together to even think about slipping through. The metal bottom is covered with some fabric, an old shirt if you had to guess, which actually was quite comfortable to sleep on. The entire set up is suspended over his desk, with a relatively large door that latches tightly from the outside.

Except, this time, he hadn't quite latched it all the way.

Otto's gone right now, and it's night. If his pattern over the past week continues, he'll be gone for a few more hours at least. It takes a world of courage to even cross the bird cage over to the door, anxiety blooming in your chest. The latch was usually unreachable, but with it barely in its slot, it could spring free if you jiggle it just right. The fall to the desk would be survivable - Otto had sussed out that your shrinking had left you with some enhanced durability. From there you'd just have to find somewhere to hide, until your body finally decided to return to its normal height.

(It's as good a plan as any.)

(And frankly, it was the only plan you had. So, may as well.)

Taking in a shaky breath, you carefully take hold of the door, giving it a slow, tedious push up and out. The latch slips loose of its hold, and the door to the cage swings open with an audible creak. You cringe at the sound, eyes immediately flying up to scan over the messy office, as if Otto would conjure out of the shadows at the faintest noise. You stay perched at the door for a moment, listening carefully. There's absolutely no response - no movement, no distant sounds from further in the apartment.

After gauging the safety for a second, you decide to proceed. You jump down onto the desk, not giving yourself time to overthink it. The desk is chaos, loose wires and stray bolts scattered about, almost every surface covered with some form of scribbled down notes or blueprints. Organization is evidently not Otto's strong suit, and it takes a minute to navigate around pencils and bolts to the back of the desk. There's a small gap where it meets the wall, the cord from the desk lamp falling down to the ground behind it.

You don't really have time to weigh the small range of options you have right now, so you decide the cord is as good a move to get to the floor as any. It's just big enough to hold onto like a rope, and you carefully work on climbing down from the desk, ignoring the massive drop beneath you. With enhanced durability you wouldn't die from it, but it still wouldn't be pleasant. You'd scaled even higher climbs in your home before, but under less dire circumstances. The fear that Otto might return soundly trumps any anxiety over climbing down the cord.

You make it to the dusty floor soon enough, pausing for just a moment to catch your breath. Your heart is positively drumming in your chest, the sharp buzz of adrenaline running under your skin. You only rest for a second, though, before continuing onward, not wanting to linger any more than necessary.

The apartment was more of a workspace than an actual home, something you notice while navigating over and around the multitude of mechanical parts on the floor. It takes a minute to get your bearings, trying to find the door beyond all the scattered clutter, but you eventually find it. Out the office, down the hall, out the front door, and you'd be home free.

Escape is the only thing you have on your mind, as you swiftly creep through the messy workspace. It doesn't take too long to reach the door, the gap underneath is just big enough to squeeze through, out into the hall. The carpet fibers come up to your knees, making walking just a touch more challenging, but that's one of the last things on your mind right now. Turning right, you see the looming front door in the distance, like a beacon of hope. You immediately begin jogging towards it, a small buzzing bit of excitement starting to grow in your chest. Relief washes over you as escape gets closer and closer.

A heavy crash breaks the stillness in the air, and you immediately run into something sharp and hot. You stumble back like a bug bouncing off a windshield, falling to the ground. In front of you is an actuator, the massive claw clenching down into the carpeted ground, just a few sparse inches away from you. The actuator flexes slightly, metal whirring softly as you hear a soft chuckle behind and far above you. Paralyzed in place, the warmth of excitement immediately shifting into chilling dread, it takes everything you have to look over your shoulder.

Otto stands behind you, with a soft smile on his lips that only he could make look sinister. He lifts a hand, waving his fingers at you lightly like you were just an acquaintance at a grocery store, and not a captive in the middle of an escape attempt. You have to tilt your head all the way back to even get a glimpse of his dark eyes, the sharp curiosity in them sending another pang of fear down your spine.

The actuator rises up, causing you to whip your head back towards it, half prepared for the thing to snatch you up in its claw. It doesn't, though, instead it pulls back further and retreats behind Otto.

He looks down at you expectantly.

"Try again."

You stare at him for a moment and only just a moment, before scrambling to your feet and sprinting like your life depends on it. The drag of the carpet fibers slows you down a little, and you fully ignore it, intent on putting as much distance between you and the looming villain as you possibly can.

(But... that's what he wants, isn't it?)

(A chase.)

Heart pounding furiously in your chest, you zoom down the hallway, lungs nearly bursting from exertion. Over the rush of the wind in your ears you can't hear a single sound behind you, and you don't dare turn back to look. You make it to the very end of the hall before you hear the first footstep crash down behind you.

The living room is far less cluttered than the office, leaving nothing to hide behind, no last resort. The carpet transitioned into hardwood, making running just a touch easier. You stay focused on the sliver of light from under the front door, and not the sound of Otto casually following you, covering more distance in one footstep than you did in ten seconds.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you find Otto practically on top of you. He'd closed the gap in no time, with that same awful smirk on his lips. The actuators are poised behind them, all their glowing eyes are trained on you. Otto's hands are carefully folded in front of him - making no move to grab you even as your speed slows down in the slightest.

(He's toying with you.)

(And the outcome of this was likely predetermined long ago.)

Without warning, a heavy boot slams down in front of you. You stumble, the small quake of his foot hitting the wooden floor being enough to knock you off your feet. The boot's angled carefully, just far enough to miss you. It's practically bus sized, utterly dwarfing your minuscule frame.

You stay still for only a moment, frozen with the icy fear that floods your veins. A distant chuckle rumbles overhead like thunder.

"Last chance," Otto says, from far, far above.

Despite the overwhelming futility, you scramble to your feet, quickly looping around the shoe in your path. It doesn't move, thank god, and you continue sprinting to the front door. Every bone in your body is screaming out for rest, but you don't dare stop.

The gap underneath the door gets closer and closer, as close as the booming footsteps behind you do. A foot away, ten inches, five, almost there .

And then Otto slams an actuator down, the tremor of his metal claw on the ground knocking you straight off of your feet once more. You hit the floorboards hard, heart pounding sent into overdrive as you catch sight of the looming claw in front of you.

Scrambling upright again, you shuffle backwards from it. The claw darts up, pointed prongs of metal now directly facing you. There'd be no way to run past it without running into it, so you dart to the right, further into the living room. There's practically no energy left in your body at all, lungs and limbs burning from exertion, and you don't dare stop. The overwhelming sound of creaking metal follows you, and there's a harsh yank on the back of your shirt as you're swept off the ground by the actuator.

You struggle, although the grip it has on the back of your shirt makes it far too tight to slip out of. Fingers scrambling up, you hook them between the collar of the shirt and your neck, trying to ease up some of the pressure.

Something eclipses the light overhead, and you barely have time to process the giant hand in your vision before it swallows you up. Otto snatches you in a tight fist, arms pinned immobile to your sides. He raises you up to his eye level, at a speed that makes the whole world swirl around you, vertigo in overdrive. His sharp brown eyes light up once you're in sight, a crinkle around the corners giving away his excitement.

Despite the overwhelming helplessness, you struggle, attempting in vain to loosen the hold of his fingers wrapped around you. His hand didn't budge a centimeter, if anything his grip tightened in the slightest amount, just enough to knock a little air out of your lungs. Otto doesn't say a word, he merely turns to the sofa in the living room, quickly crossing over to take a seat. A notebook is perched on the coffee table, and he flips to a half-filled page with his free hand, quickly writing something down.

"Was... was this a test?" You sputter out, half convinced the man would ignore you entirely. Your voice is strained, still unable to get a proper lungful of air with his fingers around you, but his brown eyes do flit to you for a moment.

Otto lowers his fist to the table, loosening it and roughly dropping you onto the coffee table. You land on top of a stack of sticky notes, and you don't dare move. Even if you wanted to attempt to run again, you're far too exhausted to even try. You let yourself collapse, still trying to catch your breath.

"Of course," Otto answers, not looking up from the page he was still scrawling on.

He eventually glances at you, leaning in slightly closer. Otto fills your entire vision, his looming for making you feel like you were in the front row of a movie theater. A little bit of brown hair fell into those dark eyes, which flicked down as he carefully took your form in.

"I wanted to see how fast you could run," he says, smiling once more. His voice is polite and even, as if he didn't just admit to terrifying you on purpose. He turns back down to his notes, still jotting a few things down. "Obviously, your functions are affected when I monitor you closely for tests. I wanted something a little less structured than a hamster wheel."

He finishes writing, carefully setting down his pen on the table. His eyes snap back to you, looking at your face carefully. You're still breathless and sore, trying to gather yourself mentally and physically from the escape attempt, and you feel absolutely pinned under his gaze.

"You couldn't really have thought you were going to escape?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I kinda did, yeah," you reply. You'd never snapped at him, never raised your voice, but the adrenaline still buzzing in your system and the absolute fury and exhaustion you feel can't help but spill out a little into your tone. "Even if I got caught, I had to try."

Otto nods, surprisingly accepting your answer with ease. He leans back on the sofa slightly, actuators draping over the back of it. His eyes are unwavering, still pointedly trained on you.

"Admirable, if not reckless," he says, "I must say though, you're far safer with me than you would be out there. I can't imagine what Oscorp would do if they got their grubby hands on you."

Pushing yourself up from the sticky notes, you rise to your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. Despite how correct he probably was, that wasn’t his call to make.

"Can't be worse than a goddamn hamster wheel," you mutter. Despite keeping your voice low, Otto does catch it, and he laughs brightly. He almost seems harmless for a second.

"I can assure you, my dear, they would not be as kind as me. I'm curious, but I do not intend to do you any harm. Other scientists, well, their methods of discovery aren't always so kind towards their specimens."

You narrow your eyes at the man, trying to gauge if you should believe him. There was no doubt that Oscorp would have been a nightmare if they had found you, and in all honesty, living at the apartment wasn't going to work out long term. You didn't need confirmation that the world outside was dangerous, but you still wonder how honest he was really being.

"You won't hurt me, but you'll keep me in a bird cage for a week?"

Otto shrugs, unbothered by the accusation.

"Can’t risk you running off and hurting yourself," he says.

He leans in once more, slowly bringing a hand down in front of you. The same one that snatched you up earlier. You look at it warily, waiting for it to grab you in a fist, pinch the back of your shirt and dangle you, but he doesn't. He simply lays it level with the sticky notes, right in front of you. You can feel the heat off of his skin, see the shift of his muscles as he waits.

"May I?"

(He'd never asked if he could hold you before.)

(You can see his fingers twitch in impatience, and decide not to push his kindness too far.)

You gingerly step onto the man's calloused palm, feeling his muscles and tendons twitch underneath you. It's a little hard to keep your balance, but he brings his thumb up, something for you to brace your hands on as he raises his palm to his face. It's far closer than when he was looming over the table, all the minuscule details on his face magnified.

"As far as I'm aware of, you're the only one like you in existence," he says. He lowered his voice for you, the usually brash and proud tone now just a quiet whisper. It was still overwhelming regardless. "I wouldn't allow harm to come your way, that would entirely deprive me of figuring you out. I am still just a physicist at heart, dear, you cannot expect me to not be fascinated by a person who can change their bodily mass on a whim."

You can feel the heat coming off his hand, the shift of his thumb under your palms. From this close, every time he exhales it ruffles your hair in the slightest. His eyes are a mix of a dozen brown shades, still locked firmly on you, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

"It's not on a whim," you correct.

(If it was on a whim, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.)

"But it could be," Otto says, "Someday."

With that, he rises to his feet. The thumb you're holding onto gently pushing you back, knocking you off your feet and pressing you into his other fingers, coming to rest around your waist like a makeshift seat belt. A small noise of protest escapes your lips, ignored as Otto takes up his notes and walks back to the office.

(It takes him just a few seconds.)

(All the agonizing minutes you had spent running, trying to cross that distance, and he closes it in just a few seconds.)

Otto enters the office, quickly reaching the desk and taking a seat. You half expect him to immediately return you to the bird cage. He doesn't, though, fingers shifting you slightly in his palm, so he can rest his elbow on the desk, leaving you sitting in his hand at eye level. His thumb stays locked over you, like a heavy weighted blanket in your lap.

(You don't think you could get it to budge, even if you tried.)

"You honestly know less about your shrinking than I do, and I've barely begun to scratch the surface," Otto says. He speaks with a certainty that's just a little grating. "Your powers are incredibly unstable now, but there's no indication that it will always be that way. And even so, I still want to know how it works, what makes you tick."

He looks down at you, with that familiar glint in his eyes. It's positively piercing.

"And I can promise I'll be less invasive than any other scientist you meet who wants the same thing."

Looking up at the man, you can't help but believe him. Your work at Oscorp had been brief enough to not see anything too awful, but you knew that the company had a dark underbelly. Otto, at the very least, wouldn't be killing you anytime soon. You can see on his face he's expecting a response, and you shrug.

"It's not like I have a choice, is it?"

Otto chuckled humorlessly, the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Clever little thing, aren't you?"

With that, his other hand sweeps in, two large fingers gently pinching around your chest and back. It knocks the wind out of you slightly, but his grip is careful, holding you just tight enough that you wouldn't slip from his grasp. He lifts you from his other palm, gently setting you on the desk. His warm fingers stay in place until you're balanced on your feet, and then he pulls away gently.

That clinical curiosity never once leaves his eyes. He glances behind you, searching for something amid the mess of his desk. When he reaches out for it, his arm arches over you, eclipsing the light overhead. His bicep practically becomes your entire sky, and in a second it's gone, once he grabbed the ruler behind you.

"Stand straight, my dear," he says.

You know the drill well enough, you stand up just a bit straighter as you feel the ruler fall into place behind your back. It presses flush against you, the cold plastic sending a chill down your spine. Otto leans in closer, dark eyes narrowed in scrutiny at the tiny numbers marking your height. His eyebrows raise, evidently a little surprised before he leans back in his chair, the ruler clattering down onto the table.

"You gained half an inch," he says, and you can't tell how he feels about that. There's a clinical edge to his tone, covering any real emotion.

You can't quite even tell how you feel about that. Half an inch was fairly inconsequential to regular sized folk, but it was everything to you. Things had seemed a touch smaller than before, but you didn't think you had grown that much. This was the longest you'd been tiny, and knowing you were growing back - if incredibly slowly - was something of a relief.

"Huh," you can't help but say out loud, showcasing a little of your surprise. Otto quirks up an eyebrow.

"You didn't notice?" he asks, with a small tilt of his head.

You shrug, slouching a little now that you don't have to hold yourself up.

"Everything is big at this scale, there wasn't much of a visual change," you say, "It's all still overwhelming."

Otto nods, and you can see the gears in his head turning once more. It's always obvious when he's thinking hard about something - leaning in, eyes narrowed, something intense in his face. It makes you feel like a bug under a microscope, fully on display, analyzed at every angle.

"Interesting," he comments. "I imagine at a certain point it's hard to gauge anything's size accurately, like estimating building dimensions just by viewing them. I don't blame you for not noticing."

(It's kind of a little surprising how well he gets it.)

"And you also said you grow back instantaneously, correct? This isn't typical, is it?"

You take a second before nodding, thinking back of all the times you had shrunk alone in your apartment. Most of the time you'd fall asleep tiny, and wake up normal sized - it was rare you were actually awake for growing back. The few times you had, you had only short bursts, and those were generally exhausting enough to knock you out regardless.

"I'm usually asleep for it," you say, "I just wake up at my usual height. I'm always pretty sore after."

Otto chuckles.

"I'm not surprised. I can't imagine your physical form changing that much, that rapidly, would be a comfortable feeling. If you do wind up having discomfort with growing back, I can give you something for the pain."

You don't reply instantly. You merely look up at the man, trying to read into his expression, figure out what's beyond the clinical curiosity on his face. He seems passive, detached, and then he expresses concern in the same breath. It's a little confusing, and you're tired of being confused.

"So, what's your deal?"

Otto raises his eyebrows, evidently not expecting the pointed question. He doesn't speak, but merely looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly as he waits for you to clarify.

"So you want to figure me out like a science project, I get that," you say, and you try not to think about if it's stupid to speak so candidly to a giant supervillain, "But why be nice to me?"

Otto's expression remains blank, and he leans in closer. Both his hands come up to rest on the desk, one on either side of you, palms pressed down onto the flat surface. His long fingers make you feel fully surrounded on all sides, that feeling only increasing when his face stops just a few relative feet from yours. His brown eyes lock onto you, and when he speaks, the breath from his lips ruffles your hair like the wind.

"You think I'm being nice to you?"

You swallow thickly, nervously looking up at the man. You resist the urge to stagger backwards - any distance you could put between the two of you, he could close in a fraction of the time. This close to his face, you can see every little imperfection in his skin, every single fleck in his eyes. It makes you forget what you're saying, for just a moment.

"I-I mean, you said yourself you're being kinder than other scientists," you say, voice coming out just a bit more timid than you'd have liked it to, "And if you really didn't care, you wouldn't worry about the pain from growing. It... I just..."

You pause, tilting your gaze down to the desk. The fake wooden swirls in the wood seem positively fascinating, much more easier to look at than the giant face in front of you. You can still feel the heat off his hands, the pressure of his gaze still on you.

"I'm sorry," you say after a second, "I'm... this is weird, I've never been kidnapped before, I'm still adjusting."

Otto stares at you for a moment more, before chuckling lightly. You hear the low noise intimately, the exhale gently brushing over your skin. He draws back, his face and one of his hands retreating to give you some breathing room.

"Ultimately when I figure out your powers, you'll have figured them out as well. At that point, you'll either escape and be clever enough to utilize said powers to evade me, and that will be the end of it. Or, you could stay and help me."

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you look up at the man. There's nothing but sincerity in his features, something almost as surprising as his words.

"Help you?"

"Someone who can change their size at will could be quite an asset to my work. I'm more than capable of most things, but the actuators don't lend themselves to subtlety well. I think I could get some use out of someone who can be a touch more discreet when the situation calls for it."

He wanted you.... to become a supervillain?

That's honestly not what you expected.

"So... you're being nice to me so I'll help you break the law?"

Otto shrugged.

"To put it simply, I suppose."

In all honesty, it isn't that bad of an idea. You'd heard the stories of Doc Ock, you knew he was terrifying, but he wasn't the worst as far as supervillains went.

"I'm... I'm not a killer, or anything."

Otto leaned back in his chair, and he carefully drummed his fingers on the desk. Each tap sent a small shake through the wood, reverberating through your tiny frame. With the hand so close it was almost overwhelming, seeing fingers twice as tall as you are moving so swiftly, and it's all you can do to try to not look unnerved by it.

"I'm hardly one myself, dear. The actuators do the dirty work, it's not something I'd expect of you." He pauses his tapping, thinking for a moment before continuing. "The media likes to highlight my more... uncontrolled moments. My real plan is actually nothing evil at all, it's simply a device that would create unlimited clean energy. Were you to help me, I'd just need your assistance in getting some parts, materials, that sort of thing."

He seems like he's being genuine.

There's no hint of a lie in those eyes, and while you know this man is dangerous, he's no less dangerous than everything else is at this size. Even if you didn't wind up helping him down the line - his thought on you escaping when you can control your powers was a good idea, actually - it'd be smart to play along.

His hand next to you rises up, carefully and slowly. His fingers approach you, and you try not to flinch back. It's almost like watching a bus directly come at you, the size and speed overwhelming, but you can tell his every motion is meticulous. Extending his pointer finger, he gently presses it to your back. Moving it down in almost a petting motion, a small smile flits over his lips.

"However, that's not a topic of conversation until we get a better grasp on your abilities," he says, "When you're useful enough to be an asset, we'll talk then. But for now-"

"Bird cage?" you interrupt, unable to keep back a small sigh.

Otto smiles, corners of his eyes crinkling up. The rest of his fingers dart forward, carefully flexing around your frame and scooping you up once more. You tumble back into the digits, quickly held in place by his thumb as he brings you back up to eye level.

"Oh, I thought we were beyond that?" he says, "Friends, and all that."

Otto stands to his feet, further making your head spin as you're shot up relative stories by the movement. Your hands come up to brace on his thumb, well aware the loose grip he holds you in is the only thing saving you from a long fall to the ground below. Otto raises his free hand, tugging back his leather jacket. The hand holding you drifts towards the inner pocket, and your eyes widen at the sight.

"Hey!" you yell out, because you don't necessarily want to be in a bird cage, but you definitely don't want to be in his pocket right now either. Otto doesn't respond, instead he tugs the pocket open, and drops you inside.

You tumble down roughly into the cloth, and it takes a second to scramble upright. Looking up you can see a sliver of light from the opening of the pocket, swiftly extinguished when he drops his coat back against his chest. It's warm, especially pressed right up against him, held in place by the thick leather of the coat.

"There’s a few things I need to attend to tonight,” he says, and you can feel every word shake through your bones, “Thanks for the company, my dear.”

Letting out a sigh, you relax back into the pocket, letting the warmth of him wash over you. Everything shifted slightly as he started walking, and you shut your eyes. Accompanied by the booming sound of his heartbeat and your exhaustion, it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

#g/t #giant/tiny #macro micro #otto octavius #doc ock x reader #otto octavius x reader #my writing

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phoebepheebsphibs · 21 hours

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Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 28: Touch and Go

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

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Dr. Chaplin walks into the Operation Room, accompanied by two men.

Dr. Timothy and Dr. Finn are speaking quietly, mumbling over a poor test subject that didn't survive their most recent mutation experiments.

"...I thought that the addition of his blood would have worked..." Timothy bemoans to his coworker.

"Perhaps the miracle we're looking for is not in the blood as it is now, but how it was before we changed it... There must be some secret we're missing--"

"Ahem," Chaplin says as he arrives. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Ah, Dr. Chaplin!" Abigail Finn exclaims, turning around and pasting an anxious smile across her face. "N-no, no, of course not..."

Abigail notices the two men standing behind him. One is almost seven feet tall by the looks of it, the other is bordering five feet. The taller man is the size of a bull, thick and heavy and absolutely rippling with muscles. The shorter man is thin as a rail, slicked-back greasy hair and a thin wiry mustache that almost makes him look like a mouse or a rat. The two men look like night and day, but both wear very expensive suits and ties which do not match either man's personalities.

"...Who're the guests?" Abigail asks curiously.

"These are Mr. Touch and Mr. Go. They are some... shall we say, 'men for hire' that I've employed to assist in the recapture of our lost experiment from Project Venus."

"Mikey," Dr. Timothy nods. "Good. What are their qualifications?"

"Stunning accuracy," Chaplin lists off. "Mr. Touch has enhanced strength and Mr. Go has enhanced speed. They were members of a special program designed to create super soldiers several years ago. Before then they were mercenaries for hire."

"Mercenaries, eh?" Timothy says with a soft grimace. "I'm not sure..."

"A merc doesn't know how to handle with care," Abigail interjects. "The TCRI want Mikey back in pristine condition."

"As I mentioned, stunning accuracy for these two. They've never once failed a mission, as far as the records go."

Mr. Touch cracks his knuckles loudly.

"Now now, gentlemen. These two are some of our most esteemed scientists here at the TCRI and EPF Labs. Whatever they say is law. Just ask Jeff," Dr. Chaplin jokes, gesturing to an empty cage in the distance. "Oh. Hm. Where's Jeff?"

"In a jar," Dr. Timothy grumbles. "I'm studying his brain."

"Ah! Well, there you go, gentlemen. I'm sure you all will have a wonderful time procuring the lost experiment again. And boys, play nicely with the mutant target or you'll be helping Dr. Timothy here with his brain studies. And Timothy, Finn, be polite and patient with these fine men or else we might not be getting anyone else to help us recover Mikey..."

Dr. Chaplin leaves the room in silence. Abigail grunts with irritation before plastering another smile on her face and directing the two men to a computer.

"This won't be easy for you. Mikey was designed to be the perfect genetic weapon. He also has enhanced strength, speed, agility, plus some other quirks. I'll print you out a list..."

"M'sure we can handle him," Mr. Touch chuckles. "I've yet to wrastle with a critter that can outmatch my muscle."

"Don't get cocky," Abigail snaps. "And don't hurt him. We want him perfectly intact and alive."

"Don't worry, we'll retrieve your little pet," Mr. Go snickers. "Where is it, anyway?"

"Last we saw, he was hiding out in the sewers --"

"With extra mutants," Timothy interrupts. "which we will pay extra for the capture of."

"Timothy--?"

"How much we talkin'?" Mr. Go asks, a smile creeping onto his thin face.

"How much were you promised for the capture of Mikey?" Timothy questions.

"75 grand," Mr. Touch states.

"I'll personally pay you $50,000 for each mutant you can capture," Timothy promises. "Though, the price will be reduced for any major injuries I find."

"Only 50?" Mr. Touch grumbles.

"They aren't nearly as genetically advanced as Mikey is, so they should be simpler to capture. But an extra 50,000 for any extra mutants you can find isn't that bad, now is it? We have confirmation of at least two mutants that are with him, so that would be $100,000 guaranteed. We could all use a little extra spending money here and there, couldn't we?"

"Done deal," they reply.

"Wonderful. Now, what will you be requiring for your endeavours? Any weapons, traps, something to carry the subjects in I'd assume?"

"Might as well show us whatchya got," Mr. Go says.

Abigail groans in irritation as Timothy leads the two men away, muttering to herself as he shows them all their experimental gadgets.

"I can't believe him... He has no authorization to make that call. Though, it would be helpful to have extra mutants for our tests... In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter; the goal is still the same. So long as they can find Mikey and we can continue the work..."

Abigail walks away to catch up with the men.

From the far back of the room, John Bishop walks out.

Hmm. This isn't good...

Maybe he should follow along for now, see what happens...

Doctors Timothy and Finn show the two mercenaries the tranquilizer darts they have, the frost guns, nets, communication devices, trackers, etc. They show them Mikey's last known location and give the images of the human teen and the mutant brother. Mr. Touch and Mr. Go roam the room, choosing the items they'll need like children choosing which sweets they want the most from a candy store.

Bishop doesn't have much time. He slinks around to the exit and rushes to Honeycutt's labs, calling him as he runs into the elevators.

"Professor Zayton Honey--"

"Hey doc it's me how are ya that's great I was wondering if I could borrow any gear you might have?"

The line is silent.

"Oh, this is Bishop by the way."

"Um... yes, well I figured... How's your mother--"

"Forget that for now, do you have any gear I can use?!"

"W-why do you need my gear?"

"Chaplin brought in two thugs to detain Mikey and the others that are protecting him," Bishop whispers. "Timothy and Finn are showing them the weapons they have. I'm going to tail them to keep them from getting him. Now, do you or don't you have anything I can use?"

"U-uh, m-m-maybe. How close are you?"

The elevator doors open and Bishop runs out to Honeycutt's office.

"Just about to open your door."

"Oh! Well, yes, um, I think I have something you might be able to use --"

Bishop swings the door open and runs in, causing Prof. Honeycutt to jump in fright.

"Agh! John! You're here! You weren't kidding --"

"I need whatever you can give me now," Bishop states frantically. "They could leave the lab at any point and I need to stay close."

"But John -- well, you know me, I'd prefer to stay out of it --"

"You are staying out of it, I just need something to defend myself and keep Mikey safe."

"Oh well... Yes, yes, of course! Um, there are a f-few prototypes on the table over, over there!" Honeycutt stutters. "A-are you looking for lethal, or semi-lethal?"

"Anything," Bishop says quickly. "I'd rather not hurt anyone, but they're enhanced so I might have to go fully lethal."

"Enhanced?" Honeycutt says with a nervous swallow.

"No time to explain," Bishop says as he looks over the table and grabs a futuristic-looking pistol. "What does this do?"

"Oh! That's my jelly-gun!" Honeycutt says with a soft and nervous chuckle. "It's one of the non-lethals, but it hasn't been tested yet--"

"Jelly-gun?"

"It l-liquifies your bones."

"...And this is a non-lethal weapon?"

"T-the effect isn't permanent," Honeycutt stammers. "I-it's meant to be a stunner, t-to incapacitate!"

"How do you know the effects aren't permanent if you haven't tested it yet?" Bishop asks warily.

"..."

"...I'll handle it with caution, then."

Bishop gently places the 'jelly-gun' in a holster.

"What else do you have?" he asks, picking up a series of miniature grenades.

"Those are my noise-makers, you pull the pin and have five seconds before it will emit a high-pitched ringing that causes disorientation and bleeding from the ears if you stand within a ten yard radius."

"Mm. Handle with caution?"

"Handle with caution."

Bishop pushes the noise grenades into a pocket of a satchel Honeycutt hands him as he continues to go through the tech, grabbing what looks good and intact. A net launcher, a harpoon launcher/grappling gun, and a gun that actually does shoot a jelly-like substance which hardens instantly.

"Anything else you can offer me?"

"This," Honeycutt says, handing Bishop a small device that resembles a portable dvd player. "It works like a sonar detector, scanning your surroundings and comparing them to satellite images to create a map of the area around you within a 50 mile radius. It will detect any creatures, bodies of water, or large obstacles within that radius as well."

"Thanks, this should really come in handy," Bishop says quickly. "I have to get going. Do you need all this stuff back, or...?"

"If you can," Honeycutt sighs. "But honestly I'm more worried about you coming back. You're going to go fight two enhanced mercenaries? Even if you can beat them --"

"Your faith in me is astounding, by the way..." Bishop grumbles.

"-- Even if you can beat them, Chaplin or Timothy will discover your involvement, won't they? What do you think they'll do to you then?"

"Well, I guess I'll just have to do my best to not get caught and not get dead."

Honeycutt stutters nervously after hearing the word 'dead'. He tries to respond and air his concerns, but Bishop runs out quickly to catch up with Mr. Touch and Mr. Go.

Bishop watches the two men from a distance, catching up to them just as they leave the building. They follow the tracker's last coordinates to an alley out of sight. Mr. Go checks to make sure it's all clear before Mr. Touch reaches down and pulls the manhole cover off the sewer entrance.

Okay, so he's a little stronger than most people, nothing to be worried about --

Mr. Touch throws the heavy cast iron covering like it's a cheap plastic frisby, sending it flying off into the wall where it gets lodged in between the bricks.

...Okay, so he's exceptionally strong. No biggie. Just... don't get too close.

Mr. Go descends first, Mr. Touch following after. Bishop waits a few moments before running after them into the alley. He peers down into the sewer. Mr. Go has already made it to the bottom, but Mr. Touch is only a third of the way down. Bishop backs away before they can see him, and goes to the next alley over, entering the sewers from there.

Bishop slides down the ladder quickly, and peeks around the corner. The two men are walking down the halls by the water's edge. Bishop continues to tail them, staying at a safe distance as they look around for evidence of Mikey or his family. Bishop spends the time following them wondering what kinds of experiments they would perform on Mikey's brothers if they could get their hands on them. What kinds on horrors they would put Mikey through again. What they'll do to Bishop if they discover his treachery...

After several minutes, they come to the last tracked location of Mikey -- the lair.

Bishop watches as the men leave their tools and tech outside the electric barrier and step through the invisible fence. Mr. Go takes a deep breath before zooming away.

Yeah, so he's quick. Saw that one coming.

Mr. Touch waits for his partner, tapping his foot against the stone floor impatiently. Mr. Go comes back out a second later, readjusting his suit and tie which had gotten windblown.

"It's all clear. The place is totally empty."

The two men walk inside, forced to leave their weapons behind the EMP barrier so they don't get fried.

Bishop gets an idea...

He quietly creeps up -- leaving his own bag of gadgets behind -- and places the weapons on the inside of the EMP barrier. One by one, each device flickers with sparks before going kaput. Once his task is complete, he quickly rushes back to his hiding spot and waits for the mercs' return.

After about twenty minutes, the two walk out.

"...they packed what they could and ran. The muties could be anywhere by now!"

"You think they knew we were coming?" Mr. Go wonders aloud.

"Probably. That computer room looked pretty high tech."

"But that doesn't explain how they managed to get out so quickly. Chaplin only just had us come in today, and there's been no chatter on the EPF net about our arrival."

"So, whaddya thinkin'?" Mr. Touch asks.

"I suspect that the Earth Protection Force might not be as 'protected' as they think. There must be a mole."

Bishop's breath gets caught in his throat. He can't let them find him out!

Yet another reason he has to stop them.

"I bet they'll pay us extra if we can find the traitor," Mr. Touch chuckles.

"But in the meantime, let's find that mutie. Remember what we're actually being paid for," Mr. Go reminds him.

"Well, can you track him from here?"

"What do you take me for, an amateur? Of course I can. Grab the gear and we'll head out."

Mr. Touch gathers up all the supplies, and the two walk away. Bishop gives chase.

Mr. Go leads them down the tunnels until they reach a wrecked cave-in. Mr. Touch is kind enough to clear the way for them, revealing what Bishop can only assume was Mikey's previous home before something terrible happened. Claw marks and long gashes across the painted walls prove his theory.

A large, gaping hole resides in the floor, tunneling down to a secret hidden world. Bishop's mouth drops in shock.

"...What'chya wanna bet he's down there?" Mr. Go asks with a snicker.

"What even is it, one of them secret societies?"

"Who cares, as long as we find what we're looking for!"

The two men jump down into the hole. Bishop watches them descend.

....Maybe he'll look for stairs.

It takes a few hours, but Bishop finally makes his way down safely. He finds the two mercenaries wandering the streets of this underground city, checking everyone and everywhere for Mikey.

Bishop is in awe of how many mutants there are down here! It's crazy! And Timothy offered to pay extra for any they brought back...

This whole community could be in danger!

Fortunately, the two men are focused on looking for Mikey. That's what they're really being paid for. Dissatisfied by the masses in the street square, the two leave towards a series of larger buildings in the distance.

He stays just out of sight of the Mr. Touch and Mr. Go as he goes after them. As he tails them, Bishop tries to stay focused on the two villains rather than get distracted by this otherworldly society. He feels so out of place surrounded by these monsters, mythical beasts, and magical creatures. People that resemble animals or aliens or dragons or some mix between the three walk around and watch him like he's the freak.

Maybe he is, down here... Huh.

Well, that's some existential identity crisis he'll have to go through later.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go arrive at a building with a strange rainbow aurora borealis surrounding the area behind it. Mr. Go surveys the area with super speed before coming back and nodding to Mr. Touch.

"He's here."

"Positive?" Mr. Touch asks.

"Gotta be. That other mutie turtle Dr. Timothy showed us is here, so he must be, too."

Other turtle mutant... What did that kid call him... Leo? Leo! Wait, so they are here? Then where's Mikey?

"Do we get the extra mutants first or what?"

"No, he's busy with a bigger freak right now."

"I can take 'em both," Mr. Touch chuckles. "It'd be like bending a couple o' twigs..."

"Fine, but be discreet about it. Here, use one of the gadgets that lab nerd gave us -- Wait, what the --?!"

The two men try to activate what looks like a gas bomb, but nothing happens.

"This thing's defective! All this junk is defective!" Mr. Go growls.

"I can still take 'em both, you know that," Mr. Touch says, cracking his knuckles.

"It's almost like this guy wants to fight," Bishop thinks aloud. "What a charmer..."

"And where are we supposed to keep them once we capture them? You gotta think!" Mr. Go scolds. "Besides, they are also superpowered! One of them can do portals, and that second one I saw was almost as big as you! My guess is he has enhanced strength, too... And even if we did overpower them, they're out in the middle of everything, everyone can see us! And we have no real sighting of that Mikey mutant. Let's play it cool for now and get them later. AFTER we find Mikey."

Mr. Touch groans loudly.

"Fine. But I want that extra pay."

"And we'll get it, don't worry. By the end of the day, our biggest worry is going to be finding fatter wallets!" Mr. Go snickers. "Now let's find that freak show..."

Bishop swallows nervously. He hasn't met Mikey's brothers yet, not officially. But if they're anything like that human kid, then they would assume that he's a villain because he works for the EPF.

Just more people he has to avoid...

John Bishop runs after the two mercenaries before stopping in his tracks and awing at the strange area around him. A large opening surrounded by rainbow mist reveals a tropical paradise and a beach.

Huh. Okay. Not what he was expecting, but... yeah. Beach. Why not?

Bishop wishes he'd brought some shorts or something to help with the heat of the tropics, but sighs in resignation as he runs after the two men...

Casey is tanning on the beach chair just outside of the portal. He takes in a deep breath and heaves a relaxed sigh...

He's never been on vacation before.

Heck, he's pretty sure he's never relaxed before!

It's a new experience, and he's not totally convinced he's got the knack of it yet, but he's learning. Splinter has been giving him pointers.

Casey smiles at the warmth of the sun on his skin. It's so hot, he's abandoned his cloak and armour and jumpsuit in favour of a pair of Donnie's board shorts and a t-shirt. He feels a little exposed, but he's getting used to it.

He wonders if Sensei would have been sunning with him if he had made it. And Donatello would have loved the sun on his soft shell. Master Michelangelo would probably be building sandcastles or drawing images in the sand. He's not sure what Raphael would be doing, but he assumes that he'd be enjoy the safety and wonder and happiness with his brothers...

Casey sighs. He wishes Sensei could have at least enjoyed one day in the sun again... He hates that he can enjoy this while his whole family was left to die in the apocalypse. It isn't fair, it doesn't seem right.

Aaaaaaaand Casey just ruined the relaxation. Dang it. As mentioned before, he's not the best at this.

CJ sits up and sighs angrily. Why can't he just move on? Let go? It's what Leo wants. He can't talk about his life with anyone here, so he might as well just leave it behind and start fresh! Why can't... he...

Huh?

CJ notices two strangely disproportionate men sneaking around the hotel. They're pretty well hidden, but after a lifetime in a warzone where one wrong step could literally kill you, Casey Jones Jr. has become something of an expert at spotting hidden danger or people sneaking around.

He wonders what these two creeps are up to...

Three. Three creeps. There's a third guy following them... Wait, isn't that Agent Bishop?!

What is going on?? Are they looking for Mikey?

That has to be the reason. But who are those two guys? And why didn't Bishop come with them? Is he spying on them?

Well, he's not letting him do this alone! Casey may not be an expert on vacations, but he knows a secret mission when he sees one. He's coming along!

Casey grabs his grappling hook gloves and follows after them.

Bishop watches as the two men slither about, staying behind shrubbery and beach umbrellas that decorate the lot. They double check to make sure they don't draw any attention to themselves, then slink around the corner of the portal and vanish behind it's barrier. He tiptoes up to it and peers around the corner. Mr. Go is zooming across the beachside as Mr. Touch tries to use the fried tech again.

"What are you doing here?" a voice whispers behind him.

Bishop swings around and almost suckerpunches the kid behind him.

Fortunately, the teenager has good reflexes and ducks ahead of his punch, grabbing Bishop's arm and stopping him mid-punch.

"Kid?!" Bishop whisper-shouts. "What are -- where did -- Nevermind. Go away, before they see you --"

"But what are you doing here?" he whispers back. "My family's on vacation!"

"Is that really wise?" Bishop questions. "I did tell you what the EPF and TCRI were up to."

"Well, we're laying low. Like you said."

"At a resort?"

"Hey, it's not like the EPF knew about this place before!"

Bishop sighs.

"Look kid, I'd love to catch up and debate on whether a tropical getaway counts as 'laying low' and stuff, but I'm tailing these two bounty hunters --"

"Bounty hunters? Are they after Mikey?" the teenager asks.

"What do you think?" Bishop growls in response.

He turns back to watch the two men. Mr. Go skids to a halt after searching the area and pours sand out of his shoes as he complains to Mr. Touch about the conditions. Mr. Touch complains about the faulty tech they were given. They both end up arguing.

"Where is Mikey, anyways?" Bishop asks.

"Dunno," the teen replies. "He went out into the jungle to explore."

"You really think letting a kid go alone in the jungle is a good idea?"

The teen stares at him deadpan before raising an eyebrow.

"You have seen Mikey, right?"

"Fair enough," Bishop groans. "Look, I'm gonna go after them, you --"

"I'm coming with you!" he interrupts.

"Look kid --"

"My name is Casey."

"Look, Casey, I'm sure you're a cool kid with a good head on your shoulders, but this is a stealth mission. And this mission is already tough enough without having to worry about keeping you safe as well. It will go better if I'm alone --"

"Have you ever practiced guerilla warfare in a jungle before?" Casey challenges. "Or fought against superpowered individuals? Have you ever had to build a water purification device from scratch so you can drink your own bodily fluids while trekking across dangerous, monster-infested terrains??"

"Have you?" Bishop challenges back.

"You have no idea what I grew up in," Casey responds low. "Now let's go. Mikey should be deep in the jungle by this point, so we better hurry if we want some extra time to lay a few traps..."

Bishop tries to fight back, but the kid has already zip-lined into the brushes several meters away. Casey turns back and calls out to him.

"You coming or what?"

Bishop groans. He really shouldn't have yelled like that... Oh well. This'll be interesting.

Casey makes his way through the bushes and fauna, Bishop following close behind.

"Kid! Hey, kid, wait up!"

"Do you want me to slow down, or shouldn't you hurry up?" Casey shouts back.

Bishop grumbles under his breath as he runs up to the teenager.

"Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but --"

"And I appreciate what you're doing too, Commander Bishop -- uh, Agent Bishop. But this is my family we're talking about! And I'm not going to just sit back and act like I don't know what I'm doing when I do. I know you think I'm just a kid, but I've literally been training my entire life for situations like this. To be honest, this is a lot more mild than what I'm used to dealing with."

"...Where exactly did you say you grew up, again?" Bishop asks.

"Actually, not far from here," Casey chuckles. "But that's another story... So, looking at these tracks, Mikey made it to the center of the island somewhere around two hours ago."

Bishop's eyes widen behind his thick glasses.

"How can you tell?"

"Math, mostly," he says with a shrug. "You measure the size of his feet and the distance between each footprint and calculate the speed from there."

"But two hours ago?"

"I made an estimate based on when I saw him last and compounded with the fact that these plants he crushed underfoot show clear signs of recent decay --"

"Geez kid, you're like a walking science study!" Bishop sighs as he walks ahead and follows the trail as he reaches into his satchel.

"You can thank my Uncle 'Tello for that," Casey smiles. "What are you doing?"

"Honeycutt gave me this sonar tracker," Bishop explains. "I wanted to wait on using it until we were in a more secluded area."

Casey looks around at the jungle they're traipsing through.

"...I'd say this works!"

"I'd say so too," Bishop chuckles as he activates the device and scans the area around them. "Where did this jungle even come from, anyways?"

"It's a portal. It leads from the back lot of the hotel to a random undiscovered island."

"So, we're not actually in the United States anymore?" Bishop asks, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. How does it work?"

"There's a device by the portal that can change the location if needed, for storms and stuff. But mostly it runs on magic energy, if I understand it right."

Bishop nods, pretending that it makes perfect sense. Magic, portals, underground monster hotels. Sure. Why not.

He taps a few buttons on the sonar, and several dots appear on the screen. Two in the center, two to the far left, and one straight ahead.

"Hey, would ya look at that! It really works!"

"So, those two are the bounty hunters," Casey says, peering over Bishop's arm to look at the device. "And up ahead is Mikey!"

"I guess your tracking skills really are on point," Bishop compliments. "Nice work, kid."

Casey smiles as he leads the way to Mikey.

"So, what do we do about those two guys searching for Mikey?"

"I have some other toys the Doc leant me," Bisop states, reaching into his pouch. "These should work well enough against them... though, they haven't been tested yet."

"Well, as my Sensei used to say, 'No time like the present!'"

"Aaaaaalright then, we'll find where they are and set up a few traps to drive them away."

The duo travel in the direction of the two mercenaries, following the sonar tracker. After half an hour of hiking, they finally find them. Mr. Touch is demolishing the trees as he looks around angrily for their mark. Mr. Go is watching from behind him.

"Are you done with your little tantrum yet?" he hisses.

"I'm doing all the work here, in case you haven't noticed!" Touch roars back. "It's a deserted island! He could be anywhere! And also in case you haven't noticed, all our tech is busted up!"

"Well, it shouldn't be as big of a problem as you're making it," Mr. Go groans. "After all, this is us we're talking about. It can't be that difficult!"

"Well, we've never worked in the fricken jungle before!"

"Pssh, as if that should stop us..."

The two men argue a bit about where to go and what to do. Bishop takes Casey back a step to discuss their own plans.

"So, kid... didn't you say something about guerilla warfare?"

Casey Jr. smiles deviously.

Bishop and Casey quickly set up a series of traps, digging large holes and cover them with debris and plants. Casey creates a snare trap and Bishop makes a tripwire. Soon enough, their plan is complete.

"Okay Casey," Bishop says as he takes his jacket off, the heat starting to get to him. "Here's the plan: your tracking skills are better than mine, so you find Mikey and get him out of here while I take care of the meathead and the beanpole."

"Wait, are you sure?" Casey asks.

"Not really. But I don't want you or Mikey to get hurt --"

CJ groans loudly.

"Dude, I already told you --"

Bishop quickly shushes him.

"I don't want you near the fight, you could get hurt."

"I know, I know; you think I'm just a kid and I can't defend myself, but I'm pretty sure I already proved how I can --"

"You did prove yourself," Bishop interrupts him. "But that doesn't change the fact that I don't want you getting hurt or getting involved in this anymore than you already are."

The agent sighs. He takes his glasses off to show Casey how serious he is as he tries to explain.

"...Look..... Mikey was designed to be a living weapon for the EPF. He was given the DNA of several predators, violent species, and compliant genes from species that worked in groups or families so he would be sure to follow orders. He was trained day in and day out to kill, fight, and problem solve. Do you think that's the life he wanted?"

Casey freezes, eyes wide.

"Or do you think he deserves a chance to just be a kid?"

CJ looks away sadly. He can tell where this is going. Bishop takes a breath before he continues.

"Listen kid, I have no doubt that you could keep him safe all on your own, but both you and Mikey are just kids. That doesn't mean you can't do incredible things and save the world, but it means that you shouldn't have to. For now, that's my responsibility as the adult. I think you kids have been through more than enough, and it's time you get back to being kids. Or am I wrong?"

Casey sighs again.

"...Okay, point taken. Fine. I'll get Mikey to safety and warn the others... You take care of the two bounty hunters."

Bishop nods with a smile. He watches as Casey darts off into the forest to get Mikey. He turns back and treks towards the two villains.

Casey runs into the jungle, backtracking until he finds sight of Mikey's trail again. He follows, using his grappling hook like a rope swing, going from tree to tree to tree...

An old recollection of his Sensei calling him 'Tarzan' comes to mind. He smiles at the memory.

After ten to fifteen minutes, Casey finally catches up to Mikey, sitting in a tree as he munches on some wild mangoes he happened to find.

"Mikey! Mikey, hey!" CJ calls out.

Mikey looks down and smiles at him, mouth full to the brim of delicious ripe fruit. He waves.

"Hiiiiiii!" he calls out, though it's a barely intelligible, muffled slur of sounds.

"Hi," CJ calls back, climbing up quickly. "Hey, so not to alarm you or anything, but we gotta get outta here. Like now."

Mikey swallows loudly and tilts his head in curiosity.

"Why?"

"Just, um..."

Casey looks at Mikey.

He's not the warrior he would be in the future. He's not a stone-cold master of magic who occasionally liked to goof off when he wasn't being all mystical and mysterious. He's not the last brother left standing for Casey's Sensei, the last reminder of hope and love. He's not forced to stay positive and optimistic, even when the entire resistance has been laid to waste and he has to sacrifice his own life in order to save them. To save him.

He isn't 'Master Michelangelo'.

He's Mikey.

And Bishop is right. Mikey's just a kid.

A kid who shouldn't have to worry about looking over his shoulder constantly, wondering if someone is coming after him or if he's safe, or his family is safe. He's a kid who should be running across the water and having splash wars with his brothers, should be sunbathing on the beach with his father, should be sitting in a tree eating fruit and enjoying life like it was meant to be enjoyed.

"...Uuuuummm, y-your brothers wanted you to come back to the resort! They, uh... didn't know where you'd gotten to! They got kinda worried."

"Brothers worried for me?" Mikey asks with concern.

"Yeah! So, we gotta go let them know you're okay!"

"Oh, okay!" Mikey says with a nod. "Mikey understand. Let's go!"

Casey follows Mikey down the tree --just a tad bit slower than him, though.

"Race you back?" Mikey asks with a smile, already crouched and ready to run.

CJ smiles.

"You're on!"

The two run, Casey using his grappling hooks to his advantage as Mikey books it through the jungle. He hopes they don't attract the wrong kind of attention, but their speed should be helpful... He wonders if Bishop is finished with his job yet.

Bishop watches from behind a tree, waiting a few minutes to give Casey time to find Mikey. Just a little longer...

The two men start walking. Bishop checks the sonar and sees they're walking towards Mikey's direction. He has to act now.

He grabs a noisemaker and pulls the pin before throwing it at the two. It lands in front of Mr. Touch, who leans down and blinks at it.

"...What the hey?"

"What is it?" Mr. Go asks, stepping around him.

"Looks like a toy or --"

A loud, ear-piercing screeeeeeeeeeeeech sounds off, shattering the air around them and causing a soundwave to blast around them, knocking them all to the ground. Bishop grips his own ears and yells in pain, though the cries are lost in the deafening blast. He gets up and starts running, looking back to see Mr. Touch drop the device and clutch his bleeding ears. Mr. Go stumbles backwards before running away as fast as he can. Bishop watches as Mr. Touch slams his foot down onto the orb, crushing it instantly and silencing it. Bishop's ears are ringing as he runs. Mr. Touch shakes his head around before he sees Bishop running and gives chase.

"HEY, GET BACK HERE!!"

"WHAT??" Bishop yells back, ears still ringing.

Mr. Touch bellows as he runs after him, following the agent to his set traps. The meathead gets closer... closer..... he reaches out to grab his shirt collar...

Mr. Touch's feet drag over a tripwire, activating the net-launcher. The wiry snare wraps around him and causes him to faceplant. Bishop nearly pauses to cheer at the trap's success before Mr. Touch shreds the net to pieces, simply by flexing his arm muscles. Bishop keeps running.

He jumps over one of the traps he set and watches as Mr. Touch yipes and falls down into the freshly-dug ditch. Bishop carefully pulls out the 'jelly-gun' and aims.

"Sorry in advance, I really hope that this isn't permanent..."

Bishop is thrown off his feet when something slams into him. He groans as he picks himself back up.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Mr. Go asks snidely as he leans down.

"...My job, nothing personal," Bishop responds quickly, swinging his foot around to trip up Mr. Go.

But he's gone before Bishop can even get his foot up.

He does a quick spin before looking around in shock, trying to find where Mr. Go went --

Bishop is kicked in the gut as the speedster rams into his chest and dashes away unseen. Bishop gasps for air and clutches his stomach as he slowly gets to his knees. He's dropped the jelly-gun! He scrambles as he searches for it. He drags his fingers across the ground, looking for the futuristic weapon on the tall grass and weeds... he notices a vibrating sensation from the ground, slowly getting stronger.

Bishop jumps out of the way before Mr. Go can knock into him again.

He gets an idea.

Bishop places himself into position and waits. He can feel the ground vibrate under Mr. Go's stampeding feet. Wait for it... wait for it...

He can see a blur coming at him. Bishop gets ready...

Mr. Go runs at him. Bishop reaches into the satchel and pulls out the other jelly gun, blasting a great mess of red goop at the ground. Mr. Go runs through it with great speed, his shoes getting caught in the ooze. He trips through it, falling onto his hands as the jelly hardens quickly.

"Hey! What's going on here?! What is this gunk??"

Bishop heaves a sigh of relief. It's short lived.

"Oh, you think you're clever, huh?" Mr. Go laughs haughtily. "Well, we'll just see about that!"

Mr. Go's body vibrates so quickly that he almost becomes invisible. The quick-hardening goop starts to crack, and he's free. The speedster suddenly blurs past Bishop, unable to stop. He gets another interesting idea...

Bishop whistles at him.

"Hey, knockoff of the Flash! You missed me!" he taunts.

Mr. Go runs back at him, a blur as he comes back for round 2. Bishop pulls a special gun out and points it at the mercenary. Mr. Go immediately runs in a different direction, which Bishop expected. He aims again. Mr. Go runs in another direction. Bishop aims one more time, and of course, Mr. Go goes in a new direction. Bishop smiles. He's too close to change course, and he was worried about the wrong kind of redirection. He's right where Bishop wants him.

Just as Mr. Go is about to run into him, Bishop aims the gun above his head and fires. A long cable cord shoots out from the weapon and snags onto a branch high above him. Bishop is pulled away, and Mr. Go runs straight underneath him and over the hidden tripwire. Mr. Go sees the trap too late and is snagged, a rope wraps around his ankles and pulls him up into the air.

Mr. Go's flails upside down, sputtering and yelling protests. The jelly-gun drops from his jacket pocket. He stole it when he ran past him! Bishop jumps down from his place amongst the branches and grabs at the weapon, trying not to pull the trigger until he can actually hold it steady.

"Y-you meddling inferior!" Mr. Go screams. "You ridiculous turncoat! You--"

"Please, please, save all your compliments until the show is over," Bishop says with a laugh, holding his ribs. "You had a pretty good run, not gonna lie."

Bishop shudders.

"Ugh, that pun was terrible. Is this what I've become? A guy with pad jokes and witty one-liners? I thought I was better than that..."

"Hurry up and get me down from here!" Mr. Go snaps.

"What makes you think I'd actually let you down?" Bishop questions.

"He wasn't talking to you, punk," Mr. Touch growls from behind him.

Bishop manages to duck just before Mr. Touch can break his skull open with his fists.

He yipes as he rolls to the side, dodging another blow and careful to avoid the traps he's set up. Mr. Touch is not so careful. His feet crack against the tripwires and set off the snares and springtraps, though none of them have any effect on the giant muscle man.

"Now would probably be a good time for you to run, little man," Mr. Touch chuckles with a low voice.

"I might just take you your advice on that," Bishop heaves. "But first --"

He points the jelly-gun at the giant man, who raises a fist to pound Bishop flat. The gun fires, a green light beams on Mr. Touch's fist and forearm. They go numb and limp, falling flat and flabby against his side. Mr. Touch roars angrily.

"What did ya do to me?!" he screams, flinging his other fist at Bishop.

The agent dodges it, the ground beside him cracking and splitting from the brute force used. Mr. Touch roars again and swings his floppy arm at Bishop. Despite the lack of bones, the strength is still there and Bishop is flung several meters back before rolling across the ground and hitting a tree.

Bishop gasps for air as the wind is knocked out of him. He struggles to lift himself up, coughing and hacking as his back cracks with each movement.

He looks up in time to see Mr. Touch yank the rope holding Mr. Go, setting him free. Bishop has to act fast... Casey is counting on him. Honeycutt is relying on him. That whole society under New York is in danger if these mercs get out. Mikey deserves better.

Bishop grabs one of the noisemakers and pulls the pin. Mr. Go lunges forwards. Bishop throws the device at him. He realizes in time what it is and runs in the opposite direction. The noisemaker grenade goes off, and another shockwave of sound takes out everything above four feet. Bishop ducks for cover as he covers his ears. Mr. Go is blown away by the shockwave, soaring straight into Mr. Touch.

Bishop takes the jelly-gun and aims once again. He shoots at Mr. Go's legs. Mr. Go falls. He shoots again at Mr. Touch's other arm. It becomes wobbly and liquified. But Bishop can't stay here for much longer. He limps away, regaining a little speed with every excruciating step.

He's not sure exactly how long the jelly-gun effects will last. But he'd rather not find out.

After running several meters away, he can hear the device deactivate. Touch probably destroyed it.

Bishop pulls out the sonar device and checks it. It was damaged in the fight. The screen is cracked, and it glitches every few seconds, but from what he can tell Mikey and Casey made it back to the resort. Bishop just has to find his way out of the jungle...

He keeps running, though there's a pain in his side and his head is still buzzing. He hears something crashing behind him.

Mr. Touch and Mr. Go are following close behind.

Already?!

He looks back and sees Mr. Touch carrying Mr. Go over his shoulders. They aren't as fast as he is, but with his injuries he'll never outrun them...

But he has to try. Bishop pulls out the jelly-gun and fires, hoping to temporarily liquify more of the two mercenaries.

The gun squirts out a train of goop behind him. Wrong gun! But at least it serves its purpose; Mr. Touch trips and falls face-first into the slime, which hardens overtop of him. He shouts and screams, flapping his jelly arms around as he tries to get himself free.

Bishop keeps running.

Leo is laying out on the beach chair by the hotel. He loves the ingenuity of this place. If you get the right angle, you can have all the warmth and brightness of the sun shining on you without the actual sun getting in your eyes. At first, he was a bit hesitant to trust this place (after the events of that other resort he has sworn never to speak of again). But this place is a certified heaven!

Leonardo exhales with utter satisfaction. It's been a pretty rough couple of days... he needs this.

Unfortunately, Leo is pulled out of his relaxation mode when a weight is suddenly and mercilessly slammed onto him. He gasps, eyes nearly popping out of his head as Mikey jumps up into his lap at top speed.

"I win!" Mikey cheers.

Casey jogs up behind with and laughs, somewhat out of breath.

"You certainly did," he gasps, panting and sweating. "Phew! That was fast, Mikey..."

"What the -- *wheeze* -- what the heck is -- *wheeze* -- happening?!" Leo hacks, coughing loudly as Mikey sits proudly on his chest.

"Mikey won race!"

"Great. I'm so very proud of you. My ribs will never be the same again."

"Is Leo not worried anymore?" Mikey asks, leaning close to inspect his face and sniff him.

"Worried? Like, about my lungs collapsing, maybe?"

"Oh, sorry," Mikey chuckles nervously as he gently climbs off of him.

"It's fine, I'm getting used to it by now," Leo groans, his body re-inflating with air. "I mean, this is like the third or fourth time this has happened..."

"But Mikey is here! So no more worries," his little brother says with a smile.

"Uh, yeah," Leo answers with a nod. "No one is worried anymore. Whatever that means."

"Oh, uhhhhh Leo, you and I need to have a quick talk about.... something," Casey says.

Leo gets the hint immediately, despite the lack of mind meld.

"Hey Mikey, why don't you go find Donnie and help him build his sandcastles? He indubitably said something about probably needing your help and creative expertise. He said he was going to be getting supplies at the Hotel front desk..."

Mikey nods with a smile and a chirping laugh as he runs off to find Dee. Leon waits until he's out of sight before turning to CJ.

"Okay, so what's up?"

"So... no need to panic or freak out or anything, buuuuuuut there may or may not be a few bounty hunters searching for Mikey right now..."

"WHAT?!" Leo shouts, grabbing Casey by the shoulders and shaking him. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BOUNTY HUNTERS?!"

"I-I said no n-n-need to pa-a-a-nic!" Casey yells back, his voice wobbling as he's rocked back and forth. "Co-ou-uld you ple-e-e-ea-se st-o-o-p sha-a-k-i-i-ing me-e-e-e??"

"What bounty hunters are looking for Mikey? Where are they?" Leo demands.

"Oh don't worry, they're probably nowhere near here!"

"CLOSE THE PORTAL!"

Leo and CJ both look back at the beach's serene and peaceful shores to see Agent John Bishop, running out of the jungle as fast as he can. Soon enough, a man the size of a baby elephant carrying another man resembling an overcooked noodle with a ratstache barrel out of the bushes and run after him.

"CASEY, CLOSE THE PORTAL!" Bishop yells at the top of his lungs as he rushes for the hotel. "CLOSE THE PORTAL, NOW! CLOSE IT!"

Casey yells in fright and drags Leo to the box by the rainbow's edge.

"How do we close it?!" Casey demands, examining the device.

"How should I kow?!" Leo yells back.

"Uh, you deal in portals all the time?!"

"That's my ninpo, I don't actually know how they work! I don't understand magic or mystics or --"

"WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?!" Bishop shouts. "HURRY!!"

"Do you know what to do or not?!" Casey shouts.

"NO! How would I know what to do?! Draxum would probably, but I have no idea where he is --"

"Well, try something! Anything! Maybe you can do something with your ninpo?"

"Fine! Get the device open!"

Casey jimmies the box's lid open and starts messing with the wires and other pieces inside before uncovering the mystic power source, an aurora flooding the air around him.

Leo runs to his beach chair and grabs his swords, throwing one at the machine and vanishing for a second before reappearing besides CJ. Leo stabs one of the katanas into the device and starts swinging it around in the rainbow light that spills.

Leon's markings start glowing, and the aurora turns blue.

"Don't change it yet, Bishop is still out there!" Casey pleads, running to watch the portal.

"ERRGH, MAKE UP YOUR MINDS!" Leo yells angrily, straining to keep the portal from glitching as the overwhelming power starts to spark across his arms. "Ow! Hurry up!"

Casey stops just outside of the portal and calls out to Bishop.

"Run!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!"

"They're catching up!"

Bishop grabs the last noisemaker grenade, pulls the pin, and throws it back at the two mercenaries. It smacks right into Mr. Touch's face, getting lodged in his mouth before he screams and spits it out, jumping out of the way before a loud screeching shockwave sends them all flying.

Bishop goes tumbling through the portal before faceplanting onto the ground beside Casey. The shockwave knocks Leo down, the sword crashing against the device and closing the portal just as the two mercenaries try to reach out for it.

The beach scene swipes away, a new view of a new island taking it's place.

Bishop pants and heaves on the ground by CJ, looking over his shoulder shakily before his arms give out and he rolls onto his back.

"...That was the worst. I think my back is now in the shape of the letter 'S'. Thanks, kid..."

"Did... did we just banish two dudes to live alone on a lost tropical island in the middle of nowhere?" Casey whispers.

"Looks that way. But I'm sure they'll be fine..."

"So, you must be Agent Bishop, huh?" Leo asks skeptically, leaning over the young man.

"What's left of him," Bishop chuckles. "Ow, my body... and you're Leo, correct?"

"That is classified information," the slider growls, crossing his arms.

"Nice to meet you," Bishop groans as he slowly sits up and gets to his feet.

"Wish I could say the same."

Casey smacks Leo's arm.

"What??" Leo asks incredulously. "Look dude, I know you trust him, but I don't know him, and he works for the people that tortured Mikey. I'm sorry, but he hasn't exactly earned my trust just yet."

"I get it," Bishop responds, cracking his back in pain. "I really do. And for the record, I don't work for the EPF anymore. What they're doing is wrong, in every sense, and it needs to end. I'm working to make things right. And hopefully, this --" he gestures to the new portal "-- helps to prove it?"

Leo sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Maybe. We'll see."

"Fair enough, I guess. Casey," Bishop turns to the human teen and claps him on the shoulder. "Nice work. Don't be a stranger. You still have my number, as well as Honeycutt's. If you ever need anything, let me know."

Casey smiles proudly and nods.

"Well, I think that might be everything, so I should get going..."

"Here, let me help you with that!" Leo says with a snarky smile, his sword slashing the air and creating a portal beneath Agent Bishop, causing him to fall through.

He lands in a pile of trash bags on the city streets of NYC with a soft yelp followed by disorientation. The confusion quickly dissipates once he gets his bearings, and he cleans himself off before heading to the EPF building.

He makes his way into the compound somehow without drawing attention, and quietly goes back up to Honeycutt's office. He knocks this time rather than bust in like earlier this morning.

"Coming!" the professor calls out before answering the door. "Oh! John! You're back... are you alright?"

Bishop hands the jelly-gun and cracked sonar device to the old man.

"...Tech works great, doc..... But, uh... I broke the tracker. A-and the noisemakers, those are gone too."

Honeycutt looks Bishop over before giving an exasperated sigh.

"I don't care about the tracker or the tech. Get in here, you look like crap."

Bishop heaves a heavy sigh himself and relaxes. He tumbles onto the old man, who leads him into the lab to help take care of his injuries.

"Have you been to the hospital?" Honeycutt asks.

"No.... too risky."

"Your entire back is bruised."

"But nothing's broken, right?"

Honeycutt looks him over and nods.

"But I'm no doctor on the human condition," he reminds him. "I just know tech. John, you should really go to a hospital or ER or --"

"If I go to a doctor, then the EPF will hear about it. They'll ask questions. That's bad. So... just some painkillers and ointment for now will do, thanks."

Honeycutt rolls his eyes.

"...You need to be more careful, you know."

"Yeah, I know. But someone needs to do this job..."

Honeycutt grumbles angrily.

"Are you mad at me, doc?" Bishop asks, as the old man starts to bandage his ribs.

"No, no... I just... why can't you stay out of this whole business for a bit? Take a break?"

Bishop turns around and stares at him.

"...Are you worried? About me?"

"Well... yes. I'm a frail old man and a worrywart at heart, so of course I get anxious about secret missions and dangerous weapons and evil mercenaries! And, at the risk of sounding even more pathetic than I realize I already am, I don't exactly have... a lot of friends here..."

Bishop blinks.

"Oh."

"So yes, worry about you, John. I don't want to lose the only person I can trust in this place. I'm... I'm honestly scared. I'm a grown man and I'm scared. I should be considering retirement plans, but instead I wake up and wonder if this'll be the day I get drawn and quartered by my coworkers. Or worse, what will happen if you get drawn and quartered."

Bishop sighs.

"Okay. I'm sorry for worrying you. But this is important, and if I don't do it..."

"Then maybe someone else will," Honeycutt offers. "You aren't the only hero around, John!"

"No, maybe not. But I know who will have to step up for Mikey and his family, and it isn't fair to ask them to fight like that. They're just kids, Doc. And I need to make things right. For all of my mistakes."

Prof. Honeycutt sighs.

"...You're right. But... what if something happens to you?"

Bishop shrugs.

"I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Let's hope that never happens..." Honeycutt mutters to himself as he helps to treat the injuries.

Prev || Next

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vickyvicarious · 8 months

Note

Do you think Jonathan's week of silence has to do with his mental state like it did back in June? We know that Seward is silent because you cannot exactly carry your desktop computer to Bulgaria, and Mina is busy having to keep her mind in total secrecy to write updates about anything, but Jonathan is free to write, but doesn't.

...It now also occurs to me that Jonathan must be keeping his journal always on his person, for Mina-Dracula to not take it and read it. Just like in the Castle.

Yes and no. I mean, on the one hand, yeah he's definitely in a rough space right now and I think him refusing to write certain things definitely reflects that. He has to ensure there is a record of anything significant, but he can't bring himself to be the one to write it - I'm talking 11 October here. He made sure Jack wrote it down, which lets us know what happened, but we can only work off Jonathan's silence in not writing it himself (as well as his silence when asked to promise) to decide exactly how he feels about it. It's obvious he's upset but there's not the blatant "and I did not answer her" that we might've seen when reading his own account.* Since he's not alone like he was in the castle, he can afford to outsource the most agonizing events to others and know they will still be preserved. He didn't write Mina's account of the assault on 3 October either, or his own experience when he was kept asleep for that matter. Instead he left that to Jack's record and picked up with what they did afterwards.

But he has written since those moments, after all, when there was something to report. The week-long silence comes after those entries. I think this can still be compared pretty easily to his long silences in the castle... because, along with reflecting his despair, they also reflected long stretches where the situation didn't really change. Sure, it was just as awful. Jonathan and Dracula were still having storytime just about every night. Dracula was still doing his creepy touching. But I genuinely don't believe anything new happened, just stuff that was continuing established patterns. Since Jonathan wasn't getting any new information, he didn't feel the same need to put it in the record. Part of that was certainly that he would feel even more disheartened having to write "mentally & emotionally tormented again today. felt like a rat in a cage again today. chicken for dinner and the count took my arm to lead me in and I felt such intense revulsion I nearly yanked myself away but his grip was just on the edge of not painful and I know what his grip can become so I made myself smile at him instead. again." and so on, day after day. Part of it was certainly that he didn't have the hope/strength to write. Part of it was even likely him trying to preserve room in his likely limited diary space. But also... I think it's just that as soon as Jonathan writes for a purpose, he doesn't put in entries that don't further that purpose.

His purpose in the castle was to document what the fuck was going on with the Count, and also to record his own attempts at escape. When Dracula didn't display any new behaviors and Jonathan himself saw no new avenues to try and risk anything... we gets days and days of silence.

Right now... I think I said this in the tags of a post a few days ago. Jonathan's heart and head are entirely focused on Mina and Dracula right now. In opposing ways, obviously, love vs. hatred, desire to protect vs. desire to destroy, and so on and so forth. But he's focused on them. His purpose for writing is to record what is going on with the hunt for Dracula so that Mina can read it. He will also write about her condition, but I'd say that's almost a lesser priority because his decision on what to do if she turns is made so her continuing to slowly turn doesn't signify anything new for him in a sense. And of course, she'd know it through experience (and he would be there by her side throughout it) whereas the Dracula hunt stuff is what has been kept from her and thus will interest her to know once she can be told things again. But regardless, if Jonathan isn't writing then I think we can assume it is because, just like in the castle, the situation hasn't changed. Dracula is still on the ship. Mina is still sleeping a lot. The men have put their plan into place and currently nothing about it has changed, so there's no need for an update.

As soon as something changes, we'll start hearing from him again. Or at least, he will ensure we hear from someone; he will once again deputize Jack to write it for him if the changes are something he doesn't feel like he can bring himself to talk about.

*(Speaking of, this feels like it goes along with "She is calling to me." He will always answer her call - except that time. Except when she isn't asking him to join her but to kill her. Then he just sits silently.)

As for your thought about Jonathan always keeping his journal on him again.... OUCH, okay. I don't think that Mina has reached the point of being puppeteered in such a way, but they have certainly passed the point of 'if she sees/hears it even accidentally then he'll know too' so that would be reason enough. I also cannot make up my mind whether Jonathan would be the last person to consider such a thing, because he loves Mina so much and wants to deny that Dracula could so fully control her like that... or whether he would be the first person to think of it because he knows the Count so well. Either way, the comparison is fantastic angst.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #anonymous #replies

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laxmiree · 2 months

Text

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 56 Translation [Lucien’s Part]-(2/2)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

I see your darkness, your failures, your confusion.

"Are you leaving?"

His deep gaze makes my heart tremble, and his tight grip on my hand feels as if he wants to imprison me here forever.

I purse my lips and gaze into the depths of his dark eyes, confronting the obscurity and paranoia lurking within.

Translation under the cut!

[Previous Part-> Click Here]

—[Chapter 56-15]—

Next, Lucien and I search the orphanage thoroughly under the cover of the night. Along the way, we inevitably trigger hidden rules, failing the mission several times.

We stop at the entrance of an underground secret chamber as the moon begins to fade away, and I look at Lucien.

MC: Do you want to go in?

Lucien: Mm, it seems that the door is locked though. We might need a key.

MC: No need, watch this!

I proudly take out my lockpicking tools from my backpack and fiddle with the lock. Then, with a click, the door opens.

Lucien's eyebrows furrow slightly, but his eyes squint with a smile, appearing somewhat resigned but also amused, as if he didn't expect this turn of events.

Lucien: As a mentor, I'm surprised to learn that this classmate also possesses lockpicking skills.

MC: Hehe, I have plenty of skill points to spare, and with Professor Lucien being so capable, I thought I'd invest in some odd skills.

MC: Lockpicking, tracking footprints, beast hunting... If I see something fun, I'll learn it.

MC: Otherwise, in "Odyssey", wouldn't I have to rely on Professor Lucien for everything?

Lucien is amused by my demeanor, and he bends his eyes, showing a hint of interest in them.

Lucien: Then I'll look forward to experiencing this classmate's diverse "life skills" in the future.

Pushing open the door, a cold, stark white light suddenly appears. I enter the secret room with Lucien one after another.

I squint my eyes slightly, waiting for them to adjust to the light, and in front of me, many unknown cold white devices come into view.

A massive amount of documents is locked in cabinets and some handwritten notes are scattered across several tables, documenting the experiments being conducted here.

Lucien stands in front of the desk, flipping through several experiment records, his brow furrowed.

Lucien: These children are involved in an experiment to synchronize their minds. Once the experiment succeeds, they will become "puppets" that can be manipulated by others.

MC: But... what is the purpose of such experiments?

Lucien: Not entirely sure yet, but I did see the signature of the sponsor of these experiments.

I take the list he handed me. "Angel Adoption Center", “Childhood Charity Association", "Neurological Research Institute"...

As I look at these words written in black and white, a chill emanates from the depths of my heart, slowly spreading throughout my body.

Children who should have received special care are instead becoming experimental subjects at the mercy of others in the dark basement.

What should be a joyful paradise for children turns out to be a breeding ground for evil to satisfy the desires of adults…

The indoor walls are painted snow white, under the pale light, we feel as if we are trapped in a lab rat's cage.

The familiar scene almost makes my hands tremble, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

MC: …Lucien, have you found any new clues on your end?

I wait for a while, but there is no response from Lucien.

I open my eyes in confusion, only to see an icicle hurtling towards me, aimed directly at my forehead!

I instinctively roll to dodge and crash heavily onto the cold ground.

MC: Ugh…!

The icicle lodges tightly into the ground, piercing through a strand of my hair. I gasp and turn to look at Lucien.

With one hand gripping the report, his other hand hanging limply and emitting a chill. Lucien's face is frozen in shock.

MC: What's going on... Could it be?

Subconsciously, I recall the myriad of hidden rules in this place. Have we unwittingly violated something again?

Is ‘’you can't read the experiment report" also an unwritten rule of the orphanage? But why weren't we teleported out this time?

MC: Lucien, we…

Lucien: MC.

His voice is chillingly cold, carrying an inexplicable danger. I turn my head to see veins bulging on his forehead like ice cracks as if he's struggling to restrain something.

Lucien: [sternly] Just... abandon the mission.

Before I could ask anything, another icicle pierces straight into the ground right beside my foot, sending a chilling sensation through me.

Lucien: [SHOUTING] ….MC, RUN!

As the words register, I finally realize what's happening. I sprint forward, but as soon as my foot hits the ground, the space distorts, and I'm instantly back in front of him.

MC: Ah, sprinting is futile! I forgot that you can also space-fold!

Since I can't leave this underground facility, I'm forced into a relentless chase with Lucien within this confined space.

An icicle shoots towards me at lightning speed, and I can almost feel the freezing sensation brushing against my skin—

However, the icicle grazes past me at the last moment, mercilessly severing just a strand of my hair.

I turn around to find Lucien breathing heavily, as if he just exerted himself to regain a moment of consciousness, barely managing to deflect the icicle.

And I'm not doing so well either. To avoid his onslaught, I've almost used up all the items in my backpack.

The only thing that might still be useful... is this rope.

MC: I have no choice but to spare no effort…

I suddenly stand still on the ground, not dodging the incoming icicles.

In an instant, the icicles seem to veer slightly, grazing hard past my shoulder. I grunt in pain, and in the corner of my eye, I see Lucien's figure pause.

Now's the time!

I swiftly unleash my "Beast Hunter" skill, and the rope descends from the sky, tying Lucien tightly.

MC: Success….!

The next second, silver-white streaks cut through the air, and a barrage of ice spikes slice through my rope.

MC: ...It's over.

Is the mission going to fail again? I close my eyes, waiting to be respawned back to the orphanage.

Yet the next moment, I find myself falling into an embrace.

Lucien: MC, it's okay now.

I open my eyes, gazing at Lucien dazedly.

His eyes regain that familiar gentleness, though the coldness seems not to have entirely dissipated.

MC: Have you... regained control?

Lucien gently curled his lips and winked his crystal-clear eyes at me, but it was as if he had used up all his strength.

—[Chapter 56-17]—

-You've discovered the orphanage's conspiracy; it's time to make a choice with your mentor.

As soon as I walk out of the basement, the system pops up with a new prompt.

MC: Of course, these conspiracies must be exposed to the public!

MC: Otherwise, I would be letting down the children in the night division, the children waiting outside... and even letting down my childhood self!

Lucien: It seems MC really empathizes with this mission.

Lucien smiles as he watches me angrily select the "expose conspiracy" option, making the same choice as me.

MC: For the children of the Night Division, this orphanage must be a complicated place.

MC: It provides them with a living environment, yet pushes them towards hell…

I take a deep breath, feeling somewhat melancholic.

MC: I wonder how long it will take to dispel the trauma left here for them…

Lucien: Perhaps what lingers in one's life is more than just the haunting trauma.

As he speaks, a hint of snow-colored moonlight seeps into Lucien's eyes, cold yet beautiful.

Lucien: It's just that this soil no longer needs to continue preserving it.

MC: Are you suggesting…

Lucien: Let's do what couldn't be done in reality.

With that, he grabs my hand and turns back to the basement.

Twin Leaves Orphanage stands on the ground like a beached white whale gasping for its last breath on the shore, no one knows that its insides have rotted away.

But now, we have unearthed all of them, exposing them to the moonlight.

Lucien and I have transported all the books and equipment related to the experiments, piling up a series of decrepit items at the entrance of the orphanage.

He half squints his eyes, as if pondering the next move. Understanding his unspoken thoughts, I retrieve something from my backpack.

MC: Here, matches.

Lucien strikes the match, and the flame throbs in his hand, as if a powerful, vivid heart is being put into it.

In an instant, the flame shoots up into the sky, illuminating the words "Orphanage" at the entrance, consuming and burning away all the sins.

I take a deep breath of the scorching air, witnessing the imminent arrival of this new beginning.

Lucien: ….

In the corner of my eye, Lucien's figure comes into view.

He holds a burning record of experiments in his hand, silently watching the flames.

Against the backdrop of the blazing flames, his features outlined by the light appear increasingly cold and indifferent.

It’s even darker and colder than the moonlight.

MC: Lucien…?

The crackling of the flames drowns out my soft shouting. Lucien's figure is half-hidden in the shadows, revealing an indescribable loneliness and desolation.

I quietly walk up to his side, gently placing a hand on his arm.

MC: What are you thinking about?

Lucien shakes his head lightly, casually tossing the last remnants of the page into the fire.

Lucien: [chuckles lightly, then sighs] Just feeling like this scene is somewhat familiar, and I've come to understand something.

Lucien: Perhaps when faced with failure, looking back is also a choice.

Lucien: Maybe we can find answers among the things that have already been burned.

He smiles at me, the curve of his lips perfect yet distant. I gaze at his profile, silently tightening my grip on his hand.

Before my eyes, the flames roar fiercely, yet it feels almost chilling.

After sending all the children away, a halo of light appears and disappears around us, signaling the completion of the mission.

I look at Lucien, who has been silent since just now and squeeze his hand with concern.

MC: Are you tired? You look like you're not feeling well.

Lucien: …I'm fine.

Lucien: It's just that the mission we just had was a bit special, so I've been thinking about the reasons behind it.

MC: Special?

Seeing my confusion, Lucien furrows his brow, then speaks thoughtfully.

Lucien: …When being controlled by the game, what I felt was not the usual sensation of a mission… but rather something akin to the takeover of my central nervous system.

Lucien: This is the first time I've experienced such a sensation in a game.

Lucien: [quietly] …The feeling of being deprived of control over my consciousness is not good.

He speaks with indifference, but his eyes seem to be shrouded by a layer of darkness.

Thinking about how he looked just now, I worriedly reach out and touch the tired corners of Lucien's eyes.

MC: [worriedly] Is there anywhere you feel uncomfortable right now?

Lucien shakes his head, but I still can't help but feel a little worried.

MC: Could it be that we've been doing tasks for too long? Or maybe there's a bug on Infinite's side?

MC: If that's the case, no wonder it feels like the "hidden rules" this time are different, and neither of us got transported back to the orphanage…

Feeling anxious, I speak faster and faster until Lucien gently squeezes my hand, speaking in a soothing tone.

Lucien: [soothingly] We might need to look for the answer to this question within the game.

Lucien: Would you like to join me?

The warmth emanating from his palm feels different from before, now harboring a hint of burning nostalgia.

When Professor Lucien gets clingy, he's like a fox narrowing its eyes; I simply can't resist him.

A hint of sweetness wells up in my heart as I take a few steps forward with him.

MC: Alright, then I'll keep accompanying you to find the answers, anywhere you want to go.

✂———————–

We wander aimlessly along the path we come, watching together as the starry night is melted away by the sunlight.

Hand in hand, we cross the untouched stream, occasionally plucking flower buds together, knowing that new ones will soon bloom again.

The dew on the stones and the newly bloomed flowers tremble with each step we take, showcasing their vitality.

After hopping onto a slab of stone, I don't hear Lucien's voice. Turning around, I find him behind me, lost in thought with his head bowed.

During our leisurely and carefree stroll, I often catch glimpses of loneliness and coldness in his expression, tinged with sorrow.

Soon, he resumes his usual gentle smile, catching up to me as if those moments of cold loneliness were just insignificant illusions.

I hold his arm as I maintain a natural expression, and continue to talk and laugh with him without losing my smile.

I can feel restlessness in the corner of his heart, and the root of these changes—

Seems to lie outside of the game.

Walking through the night into a new day, as we witness the sunrise melting into the horizon once more, we find ourselves back at Lucien's home.

The morning light blankets the river, its ripples dancing in Lucien's eyes, as if a layer of mottled silver is painted across them.

I take a gentle breath of the air filled with the moisture of water and the fragrance of grass, then turn away and speak softly.

MC: Lucien, is there something... happening to you in the real world?

—[Chapter 56-18]—

The water gurgles as it flows, and an invisible silence spreads around us, concealing the warmth of the sun from our bodies.

I hear Lucien's light exhale as he reaches out to touch my cheek, prompting me to look back at him.

Lucien: MC, in front of you, I want to accompany you with a calming mood and a clear mind.

Lucien's gaze carries shattered dawnlight. He lowers his eyes, his tone calm and natural.

He didn't directly answer my question, yet it was as if he explained something.

It's as if he casually mentioned something irrelevant. He doesn't continue, instead he takes my hand and sits by the river with me.

His silence on the topic, and the way he skirts around it, leaves a lingering cloud of doubt in my heart.

Lucien has always been calm and composed, but in the places I cannot see, has he silently endured something I am unaware of?

The river breeze sweeps over our heads, tousling our hair. Watching Lucien's quiet profile, I can't help but speak up in the end.

MC: Lucien, when I came to see you today, I couldn't help but feel... that you may have encountered some "difficulties".

MC: It's just that at that moment, I felt like you didn't want to talk about it, so I thought of spending some fun and relaxing time with you first.

MC: Actually, I should have just told you directly…

With both of my hands cradling his face, our eyes meet, and I speak firmly.

MC: We've been through so much together. No matter what difficulties we encounter, haven't we always faced them together?

MC: Tell me about the difficulties you're facing, okay?

Lucien looks at me, sighs softly, and rests his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingle, tracing each other's heartbeats.

Lucien: [inhales then sighs longly]…

His eyelashes tremble a few times, and he embraces me tightly, warm breath murmuring softly in my ear.

Lucien: [whispers softly and quietly] Then let me... tell you myself.

After Lucien finished speaking, he logged off. I take a deep breath and then log off as soon as I see his avatar turn gray.

The lingering light of the setting sun dances through the windows. It's been almost half a day since I went to see Lucien.

It's the first time I've been online in "Odyssey" for so long. After leaving the game, I feel a wave of dizziness flooding my mind.

The light from the hallway in the research institute seeps through the gap in the laboratory door and the lights inside the room are off.

The room is filled with the dim yellow of dusk, with the steadily dissipating setting sun as the sole source of light.

Lucien sits beside me, the twilight casting shadows on his clear and refined face, making it difficult for me to discern his expression.

I get up to turn on the light, but a gentle touch brushes against my cheek.

Just like how I cradle his face in the game, my face is being held up by his cold hands.

A pair of eyes shining with a cold gleam lock onto my gaze.

As we're within a very close distance, Lucien's body emanates a faint chill, as if submerged in seawater, yet his gaze is blazing hot and surging.

Lucien: [quietly and softly] Are you leaving?

MC: I'm not leaving, I just want to turn on the light…

Lucien: …Don't turn on the light.

A cold breath brushes past my cheek. Lucien takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering.

Lucien: …Just stay here quietly by my side like this.

Lucien's tone remains gentle, but his hand firmly grasps mine without any explanation, rendering me unable to move.

He looks deeply into my eyes as if seeing something through me.

His deep gaze makes my heart tremble, and his tight grip on my hand feels as if he wants to imprison me here forever.

I purse my lips and gaze into the depths of his dark eyes, confronting the obscurity and paranoia lurking within.

His grasp on my palm feels burning hot, with a slight tremble that's barely perceptible, as if it's desperately restraining something about to burst out.

I don't know why he's like this, but I know one thing— he wants me to stay by his side.

So I take the initiative to open my arms and embrace him tightly.

MC: Alright, I'll stay right here, not going anywhere. So... don't force yourself.

I feel his body stiffen, before his arms around me tighten and embrace me harder, as if he wants to meld me into his body, causing a bit of pain.

The last glimmer of twilight fades away, and in the darkness, I hug him tightly for a long time.

The breath by our ears and the heartbeat pressed against each other’s chest gradually sync in frequency, becoming our sole yet intimate form of communication.

Feeling the breath of the person in my arms has gradually calmed down, I softly ask him.

MC: Shall we go turn on the lights together?

The person in my embrace remains silent. I hold his hand and slowly stroke his back.

MC: I want to see you, Lucien.

There's a pause on his breath, and then a faint rustle of our rubbing clothes follows.

I'm pulled into a tighter embrace and he moves a few steps. Immediately after, the lights switch on.

Under the cold light of the laboratory, I notice the dark circles under Lucien's eyes, standing out prominently.

I let him hold me as my fingertips slowly touched the proof of his fatigue.

MC: How many hours have you been sleeping lately?

Lucien: ...This week, it adds up to three hours.

Lucien closes his eyes and presses his face against my palm, his brows furrowing unconsciously. I pause, then gently massage his forehead.

MC: Does your head hurt a lot?

Lucien: It hurts.

He doesn't open his eyes, but his brows relax slightly. His hoarse voice seeped into my ears, tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

...Remembering Lucien's appearance the last time he lost control, my heart tightens.

This isn't the first time. It's been happening since a few months ago and there have been subtle signs of this.

Lucien: This kind of headache prevents me from concentrating and stabilizing my emotions for research, causing progress to slow down.

He opens his eyes, seeming to have recovered a lot, and loosens his tight grasp on my hands.

Lucien: But in the game, I can escape from physical discomfort and think more freely, which leads to faster research progress. So I believe this is a great way to do it.

His tone becomes calm again, even indifferent as if the person suffering the torture is not himself.

I embrace him distressfully, my eyes involuntarily becoming moist.

After a long while, I hear his calm voice ringing beside my ear.

Lucien: MC, it's from Evol's deterioration.

—[Chapter 56-19]—

I startle, lifting my head to look at him.

Although there's a vague premonition in my heart, I still uncontrollably feel a sharp pain hearing these calm words.

MC: Lucien…

I open my mouth, but all that escapes is his name. My eyes sting with tears, blurring the person in front of me.

From the moment he broke NW's glass chamber and carried me out from there, I had already noticed some subtle differences.

All the things that I couldn't figure out before, now seem to have answers.

Without effective treatment, the deterioration symptoms of Evolvers will only worsen, leading inevitably to death or premature demise.

Lucien is no exception to this.

So much has happened recently, with no events related to deterioration occurring, I've almost pushed it out of my mind.

The grim memories flood back into my mind, and I take a sharp breath.

I forgot.

I forgot that the conflicts arising from deterioration had only temporarily receded into the depths, but the symptoms of the illness had never disappeared.

They still spread and feed on their host like parasites.

I look at Lucien before me, his complexion much dimmer than before, and his lips are as pale as autumn frost.

MC: I genuinely forgot, Lucien…

Even if Lucien had never mentioned it, I should have checked for changes in his physical condition.

Lucien is so adept at feigning normalcy and enduring; enduring pain, enduring collapse, enduring…… deterioration…

Now, with even him unable to bear it, just how far has his deterioration progressed?

I dare not dwell on it, feeling tears welling up in my eyes, yet Lucien simply gently and slowly holds my hand in his palm.

Lucien: Don't blame yourself. It's just some unavoidable problems with my body. Moreover, our recent research on deterioration has been going smoothly.

MC: Have there been any breakthroughs?

I blink quickly to conceal the glisten of moisture in my eyes.

Lucien shakes his head, deliberating as he simplifies the complex process of his findings.

Lucien: For a long time, the drugs developed have shown limited effectiveness in clinical settings.

Lucien: Yesterday, the final clinical trial of the last drug also concluded, and the result was a failure.

MC: ….

I open my mouth, but feeling a sudden heaviness in my heart, many thoughts that had bubbled to my lips now dissolve into nothingness.

MC: ...Then why is it going smoothly?

Lucien notices my emotions and, in turn, comforts me by gently squeezing my hand.

Lucien: Because this failure is the most special one.

Lucien: For years, all the solutions in the field of biomedicine for deterioration, the biological material—

Lucien: Have been extracted from ordinary people and Evolvers, then applied to Evolvers.

Lucien: The failure of clinical trials proves that both paths we've been pursuing for so long are wrong, so we can only find another way.

He looks at me, his gaze filled with certainty about the conclusion, completely unconcerned about how shocking his words sound.

Lucien: The biological material to cure deterioration is neither in ordinary people nor in Evolvers.

My head spins a bit, leaving only one path, neither ordinary people nor Evolvers…

Who else could it be? Could it possibly be... me?

As if guessing what I'm thinking, he shakes his head.

Lucien: CORE is indeed a perfect gene, but it is not replicable, what I mean is, for example...

Seeing him about to think again, I blurt out almost in a panic.

MC: ...F-for example, relying on aliens?!

Lucien: Aliens? [chuckles lightly] That's also a possibility.

My scattered thoughts amuse Lucien, causing a slight curl of his lips.

Lucien: If there really are aliens, I would definitely think of a way to capture them for research.

Our conversation started on a somber note and ended with Lucien's playful joke.

The lights in the lab are glaring in the darkness of the evening, and I'm just thinking about how to ensure Lucien gets a good night's sleep tonight—

Lucien seems to have anticipated my thoughts. He stops in his tracks, not allowing me to lead him out of the lab.

Lucien: You've already helped me a lot today and provided me with new inspiration.

Looking back on my actions throughout the day, nothing seems particularly special. I furrow my brow, looking at him in confusion.

MC: Did I?

Lucien smiles and smooths out my furrowed brow, extending his hand to me.

Lucien: Can you accompany me somewhere now?

✂———————–

As the sunset bathes the earth, Lucien and I become solitary figures amidst the tranquil twilight, walking side by side in the quiet evening.

Lucien: Watch your step, give me your hand.

I take his hand and we walk around a cement wall, feeling a bit curious.

MC: I didn't expect there to be such a large expanse of ruins behind the research center…

Lucien: From here onwards, this used to be the territory of the research institute. However, after the reconstruction of Ultima Bioscience Research Institute, this area has been abandoned.

As we walk, Lucien vividly recounts the research heyday of the research institute.

Lucien: There were multiple laboratories, control rooms, and even a display center here…

I listen to Lucien describe in detail the comprehensive facilities that once existed in the main building, and I can't help but be amazed and impressed.

The completeness and capacity of this abandoned area are rare even in today's research institutions.

Despite being abandoned, one can still see how grand its building area was back then.

Now, the walls of the buildings above ground in the main building are mottled and fragile, crumbling at a mere touch due to lack of maintenance.

Lucien: When the research direction of the research institute was first proposed, it attracted a lot of attention.

MC: From your description, this place must have been filled with talented individuals.

Lucien: Mm, at that time, the main research direction was to find methods to delay or even reverse deterioration through gene editing and cell manipulation experiments.

Lucien: And leading the team was a highly respected scientific researcher, Mr. Xu.

[T/N: Mr. Xu (徐) in this has a different surname from Lucien's Xu [许] surname]

I look at him in surprise as he leads me through the ruins, his gaze calm.

Lucien: But the field of gene editing inevitably involves modifications that could potentially be irreversible to human genetic material.

Lucien: You can guess what happened next.

MC: There must have been a lot of controversy.

Lucien pauses his steps gently, his tone cold and distant.

Lucien: One could even say that it was sensational.

—[Chapter 56-20]—

The twilight seems to have grown even darker.

I exhale softly into my hand, listening as Lucien continues to recount the difficulties faced by the research team in those years.

Lucien: Soon, some people raised objections that this violated academic ethics and norms. They went to Mr. Xu's office to exert pressure, using both soft and hard tactics.

MC: Indeed... it's something expected.

Lucien: Mm, after such ethical controversies persisted for a while, they significantly impacted the progress of the research.

Lucien: Afterwards, the research outcomes also failed to meet the standards for an extended period, leading to a decline in external funding support and morale within the research team.

Lucien's voice is steady as he narrates the end of this place's story.

Lucien: Ultimately, due to technical limitations and insufficient understanding of the nature of the deteriorating disease, the key samples were damaged.

Lucien: This incident became the final straw that broke the camel's back, causing the management to completely lose confidence in the research direction.

The wind whispers through this now desolate wasteland as if sighing at the hasty conclusion of a grand tale.

Lucien: The research team disbanded, and the complete abandonment of the base became the final chapter of this place.

Just like dominoes, one problem leads to another, ultimately leading to failure here.

Lucien retrieves a fragile, weathered page from the ground, its surface bearing faint traces of burn marks.

Lucien: For me, this base is like those "dark pasts" we burned in the game today.

MC: So, back then, when you were staring at the flames in a trance...

Lucien: When the flames lit up, I recalled those research contents that were "burned" due to failure.

Lucien: The drugs developed at that time did indeed temporarily repair the defects in the Evolver gene, resulting in experimental subjects exhibiting extraordinary enhancements in abilities.

Lucien: However, this enhancement came at a cost. It resulted in excessive accumulation of Evol energy in the body, rapidly draining the life of the subjects.

Lucien narrates the story as if it’s not a big deal, yet I'm listening with cold sweat trickling down my spine.

Lucien: Even after all these years, no one has looked back at those failed research endeavors, myself included.

He turns to me, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Lucien: But today's orphanage mission has given me new ideas.

Lucien: Perhaps, within these 'burned' pasts, there indeed exists some useful information.

Guided by Lucien, I explore cautiously, sidestepping collapsed walls, navigating around dusty stairs, and avoiding dilapidated benches.

Step by step, I tour the area, using my feet as a ruler to measure the former grandeur of this place.

It feels as if I'm transported back to the past, witnessing firsthand the research institute's rapid decline after a brief moment of glory.

I had assumed that we would continue to wander through every corner of the research institute until Lucien suddenly came to a halt.

Following his gaze, I peer ahead to see that the corridor in front of us looks as if it has been subjected to an explosion.

Glass and rubble are scattered around us, blocking the path ahead. Unless cleared, it’s impossible for us to proceed.

Lucien falls silent, his gaze lowering as if lost in memories.

I don't disturb him and quietly wait by his side.

To me, it's just an abandoned research institute, a relic of a bygone era. But for him, it surely holds memories of his own.

After a moment, Lucien turns to me, a faint smile gracing his face.

Lucien: Come on, let's go back.

MC: Is that all? No more searching?

Lucien's eyes are filled with traces of memories, but he doesn't linger. He simply gazes up at the sky above this wasteland.

The sky from years ago had the same sunset as today.

Lucien: This is enough.

Lucien had no intention of going home to rest and insisted on continuing to research at the research institute.

I can only insist on escorting him to the entrance of the research institute and bidding him farewell downstairs.

Under the moonlight, our shadows are stretched long, occasionally overlapping with my careless footsteps.

I ponder the ending of that story and can't help but cautiously ask the question that has always lingered in my mind.

MC: Lucien, what happened to the supervisor who led the group after the team disbanded?

Lucien: He has a very realistic ending.

Lucien: Faced with overwhelming pressure and the irreparable setback, he chose to leave the field of biological sciences and went to teach in remote mountain areas.

Lucien: Now, he should continue teaching in some mountainous region.

I have a feeling inside that's hard to describe as if there are pieces of cotton soaked in water stuffed into my heart, permeated with a heavy sense of worry.

Lucien: Don't worry, in the journey of scientific research, coming to a dead end without any particular reason is the most common thing.

In reality, the night wind is even more biting than in "Odyssey," Lucien straightens my coat.

Lucien: Besides, whatever price failure demands, it's all within our expectations.

Lucien's gaze is gentle yet subtly imbued with an unparalleled dedication.

I meet his gaze and eventually nod with a smile, wrapping my arms around his neck and nuzzling him affectionately.

Lucien also pulls me into a tight hug, and we exchange each other's body heat, enjoying the silent moment in tacit understanding.

Just then, the phone rings abruptly. I pick it up and see that it's a call from my work partner.

I quickly answer the phone and exchange a few words. After hanging up, I glance at Lucien, hesitating as if wanting to say something but holding back.

Lucien: [softly] Do you still have work to attend to?

I nod and hug Lucien tightly with reluctance, unwilling to part with him.

MC: Our partner isn't quite satisfied with our plan and wants me to take charge and revise it.

Lucien: Then, I'll call a cab for you.

Feeling somewhat sad and reluctant, I tighten my grip on his sleeve, looking into his eyes.

MC: [worriedly] Lucien, I know you're dealing with something very difficult alone.

MC: Although my power is small, if you need me... I'll be there.

MC: Whether you need the power of the CORE or simply need me.

Lucien: Don't worry, I certainly will need you. After all, I'll need you more than you imagine.

His eyebrows arch slightly as he gazes into my eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

I hop into the taxi, and Lucien stands there, watching me leave. Until the car turns the street corner, his reassuring figure is still in sight.

✂———————–

The building of the research institute is also shrouded in moonlight, gradually disappearing into the concrete and steel jungle of the city.

The corridor is brightly lit. The high-wattage lights are unadorned, making the bright areas even more dazzling and the shadows even darker.

Lucien walks back to his dimly lit office alone.

He reaches into a corner of the filing cabinet that hasn't been opened in a long time, finding only a brittle yellowed piece of paper inside.

The light from the corridor spills into the office, and the red emergency exit lights are on, providing enough illumination to see the entire contents of the paper.

[Name: Xu Yijian, Cause of Death: Explosion caused by laboratory sample leakage.]

[Due to severe damage at the scene, there is currently no evidence of human factors, and it is deemed as an incident.]

✂———————–

[Afterword, rambles, and highlight(s)]

After MONTHS of foreshadowing and subtle signs in both the main story (especially chapter 45 + Chapter 51) and R&S, the deterioration finally takes a toll on Lucien. The main focus revolves around the long-awaited arrival of the deteriorating disease event, marking a crucial turning point in the storyline. In this sort-of-analysis want to highlight and talk about the underlying theme of this chapter and what the future may hold for his main story sub-plot.

[Odyssey]

MC: I signed a collaboration with Infinite for their new game, and today, I’m going to try out their gaming equipment. Lucien: Is it the game called “Odyssey”? MC: Oh, you know about it too? Lucien: Since the first-generation products of GA, they’ve been using a lot of technology related to brainwaves and data conversion. [S2 Chapter 51]

As I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter translation, Odyssey is a hyper-realistic VR game developed by a company called Infinite. Their technology not only allows players to see and hear in the realistic game world but also to touch, taste, and smell as they interact with it.

To enter the game, players need to put on a device called Golden Apple (GA for short). Not only that, but the game also incorporates AI technology into it. Infinite has a lot of technologies that are said to be "out of this world, besides AI they also develop other things yet to be revealed.

MC: I never expected that the charm of "Odyssey" would be so great that even Professor Lucien has become an "Internet Addict". I clear my throat and then nonchalantly add a "harmless" little question. MC: Lately, it seems like I've been seeing you online often. Is the work at the Ultima Bioscience Research Institute relatively easy?

MC notices that Lucien has been spending a lot of time online in the game. Although Lucien explains that he does so because it's quieter and allows him to focus better, but is the reason really that simple?

[Children of Night Division - Emotional Neglect and Loneliness]

Ever since the start, the mission has felt very personal to them. Why did the mission lead them to the exact place that can trigger trauma for both Lucien and MC over their pasts? Why does the mission lore bear an uncanny resemblance to what they experienced as children? How did a mere game take over the human nervous center, isn’t this technology dangerous?

MC: I can't shake the feeling that this orphanage mission seems to have some sort of prototype reference... like the mirrored building we encountered before. MC: There's a kind of... indescribable familiarity in my heart.

I have two theories:

The game digs into their memory and with AI technology, uses it to create such a mission, raising the stakes for both of them

Infinite has some information about BS experiments and besides using it to develop its technology, Infinite also uses it as a ‘prototype reference’ for the AI to develop a mission, resulting in such a mission.

I don’t know which theory is more f*cked up, be it the game gaining data from the players without their consent or them using those kinds of data to design the game:” therefore also exploited the orphanage children indirectly…

Anyway, both theories can explain the sudden takeover of Lucien’s consciousness. Because the ‘data’ gained from them (be it their memory or BS experiment file) have him as part of the orphanage experiment. So, I speculate that the game can control him because it considers him part of the "night division"... Let me explain a bit more.

The orphanage segregates children into night and day divisions based on their performance and physical condition. Observing their demeanor during classes, it seems plausible that the night division comprises children deemed academically proficient.

As I look at these words written in black and white, a chill emanates from the depths of my heart, slowly spreading throughout my body. Children who should have received special care are instead becoming experimental subjects at the mercy of others in the dark basement. What should be a joyful paradise for children turns out to be a breeding ground for evil to satisfy the desires of adults…

Lucien's past in Black Swan (BS) shares striking similarities with the experiences of the children in the night division. Like them, he was subjected to experimentation and exploitation. [Till Dawn R&S]. While he may have consented to some extent, there is definitely some manipulation involved in shaping a child into a tool for BS.

MC: For the children of the Night Division, this orphanage must be a complicated place. MC: It provides them with a living environment, yet pushes them towards hell…

BS provided him with a living environment that allowed him to survive, but it also pushed him towards a hell where he had no time to contemplate his circumstances. He was constantly driven to keep running, with his emotional needs completely neglected. While he may not have experienced physical abuse later on, the emotional neglect he endured as a child is a form of abuse in itself.

Lucien: I think maybe it's not resistance, but rather she also needs an opportunity to connect with you. Lucien: When you talk to her, although her reactions are a bit cold, her body always unconsciously moves closer toward you. Lucien: Rather than resistance, it might be more like "not good at" or "not daring" to communicate with you. My heart tightens. Could it be that the reason why these children from the Night Divisions are so quiet... is because of similar reasons? Children in orphanages are already more prone to feeling lonely than others. A girl who struggles to communicate is even more susceptible to being ignored to some extent.

Emotional neglect can lead to difficulties in emotional regulation, low self-esteem, relationship challenges, and insecure attachment styles, which can all contribute to feelings of loneliness. People who experience emotional neglect can have trouble expressing emotions effectively, leading to isolation and a belief that they don't deserve love or connection.

Even prior to the car accident, Lucien struggled with understanding and expressing his emotions. His time on BS exacerbated this issue. Despite his outward demeanor of indifference, it's clear that he experiences deep loneliness (please read this good analysis about Lucien and his loneliness lol).

Lucien: Some children develop a dependency on specific plush items during their growth process, finding a sense of security in them. Lucien: I think, this scarf might be just that special existence for her.

Besides loneliness, children who experience emotional neglect can develop feelings of insecurity. Emotional neglect involves not receiving the emotional support, validation, and nurturance that are crucial for healthy emotional development. When children do not feel valued, heard, or understood by others, they may internalize these experiences and develop a sense of insecurity about themselves and their relationships. This insecurity can manifest in various ways, such as seeking comfort from special objects like plush toys or blankets. I will come back to this later ;)

Lucien: These children are involved in an experiment to synchronize their minds. Once the experiment succeeds, they will become "puppets" that can be manipulated by others.

The purpose of these experiments was to create puppets that could be manipulated by others. And guess who suddenly found themselves being manipulated by the game?

With one hand gripping the report, the other hanging limply, emitting a chill, his face frozen in shock. MC: What's going on... Could it be? Subconsciously, I recall the myriad of hidden rules in this place. Have we unwittingly violated something again? Is ‘’you can't read the experiment report' also an unwritten rule of the orphanage? But why weren't we teleported out this time? - Lucien: MC. His voice is chillingly cold, carrying an inexplicable danger. I turn my head to see veins bulging on his forehead like ice cracks as if he's struggling to restrain something. Lucien: [sternly] Just... abandon the mission. Before I could ask anything, another icicle pierces straight into the ground beside my foot, sending a chilling sensation through me.

Freaking, Lucien.

From all the coincidences and connections, we can theorize that according to the game, Lucien is the result of the experiments, which enables the game to freely manipulate him. According to the game, Lucien IS part of the night division!

also, can I point out that loss of control has been one of the constant symptoms of his deterioration disease, which means that this accident can be a foreshadowing of a future ‘knife’ where Lucien loses control and accidentally hurts MC-

Luckily, Lucien managed to regain control in the end, ~though this experience undoubtedly added extra trauma for him~. After uncovering the conspiracy, they both chose to expose it. However, Lucien proposed something unexpected.

Lucien: Perhaps what lingers in one's life is more than just the haunting trauma. As he speaks, a hint of snow-colored moonlight seeps into Lucien's eyes, cold yet beautiful. Lucien: It's just that this soil no longer needs to continue preserving it. MC: Are you suggesting… Lucien: Doing what couldn't be done in reality. - Lucien strikes the match, and the flame throbs in his hand, as if a powerful, vivid heart is being put into it. In an instant, the flame shoots up into the sky, illuminating the words "Orphanage" at the entrance, consuming and burning away all the sins. I take a deep breath of the scorching air, witnessing the imminent arrival of this new beginning.

He suggested burning everything. Perhaps it is his emotional catharsis over his past. Burning can symbolize purification and a new beginning, a way to get rid of past sins and start anew. By suggesting this drastic action, he might be seeking closure and a sense of control over the painful events that transpired, although it can only be done in-game:”.

[Deterioration]

The crackling of the flames drowns out my soft shouting. Lucien's figure is half-hidden in the shadows, revealing an indescribable loneliness and desolation.

During our leisurely and carefree stroll, I often catch glimpses of loneliness and coldness in his expression, tinged with sorrow. Soon, he resumes his usual gentle smile, catching up to me as if those moments of cold loneliness were just insignificant illusions.

Throughout the chapter, MC keeps catching glimpses of his loneliness and sorrow. which leads me to ponder: with such a heavy burden of facing his own mortality and failures after failures... has he been carrying it alone for so long?

In this chapter, it’s the first time… we see him actually being so close to death as if there's a death countdown ticking with each breath.

Just like how I cradle his face in the game, my face is being held up by his cold hands. A pair of eyes shining with a cold gleam lock onto my gaze. As we're within a very close distance, Lucien's body emanates a faint chill, as if submerged in seawater, yet his gaze is blazing hot and surging. Lucien: Are you leaving? MC: I'm not leaving, I just want to turn on the light… Lucien: …Don't turn on the light.

Confronted with his own mortality, despite his usual indifference, Lucien’s reaction to the situation is one of vulnerability and desperation. Perhaps, more than death itself, he’s even more afraid to be separated from her. Thus, upon returning to reality, his immediate instinct is to cling to her, preventing her from leaving. All while trying to conceal his vulnerability and condition from her by preventing her from turning on the light.

Lucien: …Just stay here quietly by my side like this. Lucien's tone remains gentle, but his hand firmly grasps mine without any explanation, rendering me unable to move. He looks deeply into my eyes as if seeing something through me. His deep gaze makes my heart tremble, and his tight grip on my hand feels as if he wants to imprison me here forever. I purse my lips and gaze into the depths of his dark eyes, confronting the obscurity and paranoia lurking within.

Remember when Lucien mentioned how some children develop a dependency on specific plush items during their growth process, finding a sense of security in them? This scene perfectly mirrors that concept. In addition to his fear of losing her, he also experiences a lack of security at that moment, seeking solace in her eyes. MC is that special existence for him, someone he has grown dependent on because he finds a sense of security in her; the way he holds and looks at her… almost akin to a devout believer seeking comfort from the divine.

His grasp on my palm feels burning hot, with a slight tremble that's barely perceptible, as if it's desperately restraining something about to burst out. I don't know why he's like this, but I know one thing— he wants me to stay by his side. So I take the initiative to open my arms and embrace him tightly. MC: Alright, I'll stay right here, not going anywhere. So... don't force yourself. I feel his body stiffen, before his arms around me tighten and embrace me harder, as if he wants to meld me into his body, causing a bit of pain.

Oh and don’t get me started about how he *still* tries to restrain himself from completely holding her :"" only allowing himself to seek even more comfort when she's the one who initiates the hug; when she chooses not to leave him ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ .

ALSO, the hug that feels as if he wants to meld her into his body :”” It's been so long since the PG used this description, which shows the DEPTH of his fear of separation; He just wants to meld her into his body so that there's no way they'll get separated.

The last glimmer of twilight fades away, and in the darkness, I hug him tightly for a long time. The breath by our ears and the heartbeat pressed against each other’s chest gradually sync in frequency, becoming our sole yet intimate form of communication. Feeling the breath of the person in my arms has gradually calmed down, I softly ask him. MC: Shall we go turn on the lights together? The person in my embrace remains silent. I hold his hand then gently and slowly stroke his back. MC: I want to see you, Lucien. There's a pause on his breath, and then a faint rustle of our rubbing clothes follows. I'm pulled into a tighter embrace and he moves a few steps. Immediately after, the lights switch on.

Not really analysis I just want to highlight this scene because, GOD this is so bittersweet and intimate ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ the way they cling to each other in the dark, comforting each other and communicating only through their heartbeat and breath… how MC gently and softly coaxes him to reveal himself to her and he finally obliges, ugh, my kokoro just :"

Under the cold light of the laboratory, I notice the dark circles under Lucien's eyes, standing out prominently. I let him hold me as my fingertips slowly touched the proof of his fatigue. - Lucien closes his eyes and presses his face against my palm, his brows furrowing unconsciously. I pause, then gently massage his forehead. MC: Does your head hurt a lot? Lucien: It hurts. He doesn't open his eyes, but his brows relax slightly. His hoarse voice seeped into my ears, tinged with a hint of vulnerability. -

His tone becomes calm again, even indifferent as if the person suffering the torture is not himself. I embrace him distressfully, my eyes involuntarily becoming moist. After a long while, I hear his calm voice ringing beside my ear. Lucien: MC, it's from Evol's deterioration. -

Lucien is so adept at feigning normalcy and enduring; enduring pain, enduring collapse, enduring…… deterioration… Now, with even him unable to bear it, just how far has his deterioration progressed?

WHEN I HEARD THIS WORD “疼” (lit. painful) MY HEART JUST BROKE INTO PIECES༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ . It's just... how awful his condition must be if even Lucien (who's used to freaking pain, who can still laugh even after he slit his own eyes, or get his shoulder blasted) finds it unbearable?

As mentioned in R&S Threshold, Lucien's evol deterioration manifests as cancer. Judging from his symptoms such as headaches, anxiety, and depressive symptoms, it's likely that Lucien has a brain tumor resulting from his evol deterioration. Evol deterioration worsens exponentially due to the overuse of evol, and in the past few chapters, Lucien has repeatedly overused his evol to protect MC, again and again, resulting to his condition now :".

It's only when the lights come on that MC realizes what he's been enduring lately :". The unease that MC felt since the start of the chapter now has an answer. It turns out that Lucien has been spending a lot of time online recently due to the unbearable pain caused by his worsening condition:"". He ‘escapes’ to the game to avoid the pain yet also never gives up on his real life.

Although he needs coaxing, it's also the first time he shows his vulnerability; being clingy solely because he needs her there in that moment.

In a way, this is also proof of his growth. He has truly learned to share his burden with her, realizing that she does care and he no longer needs to bear everything alone. So, when he's not even sure if he'll survive this time, the least he can do is tell her some truth, perhaps easing her into preparing for the worst.

Lucien: For a long time, the drugs developed have shown limited effectiveness in clinical settings. Lucien: Yesterday, the final clinical trial of the last drug also concluded, and the result was a failure. - MC: ...Then why is it going smoothly? Lucien: Because this failure is the most special one. Lucien: The failure of clinical trials proves that both paths we've been pursuing so long are wrong, so we can only find another way. - Lucien: Mm, at that time, the main research direction was to find methods to delay or even reverse deterioration through gene editing and cell manipulation experiments.

More than Lucien facing his circumstances with indifference and sorrow, what I find more heart-wrenching is the very clear emphasis on the passage of time. The research into the deteriorating disease has been ongoing for an extended period, with Lucien's condition progressively deteriorating. Enduring failure after failure, he now embarks on a dangerous journey of researching gene rewriting and cell manipulation, the only path left to solve this deterioration. And...

[Name: Xu Yijian, Cause of Death: Explosion caused by laboratory sample leakage.] [Due to severe damage at the scene, there is currently no evidence of human factors, and it is deemed an accidental incident.]

Lastly, he tells the truth about his condition yet lies about how dangerous this path is. Does he not want MC to investigate his death and involve herself in danger in case the worst happens? ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

[The path moving forward]

As usual, the chapter posted right after the anniversary chapter tends to mark the beginning of the conflict or the introduction of a major challenge. So, it's safe to assume that we'll face an even more intense knife ahead (a.k.a the angst in this chapter is just beginning-) . Aside from Lucien's subplot of treating evol deterioration, I'm betting that this year's anniversary chapter will involve defeating the enigmatic Infinite or perhaps a hidden boss/evil within Odyssey. If you’ve read so far, thank you for reading this chapter and my rambles~

#the first time Lucien being so clingy and so vulnerable?? AND IT'S PAINFUL #enjoy another 3k words of essay #Lucien being pathologically clingy is kinda cute although it meant to be angst #this chapter is good at making you just feel bad at Lucien lmao #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers #looking forward to next pain- i mean chapter update

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yuritestikov · 9 months

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⚡16 year old Adam Yauch of the Beastie Boys at Rat Cage Records in NYC (1980).⚡

#Adam Yauch #Beastie Boys #hardcorepunk #rap #hiphop #1980s #music #punk

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vicsy · 9 months

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maxiel wrestling au ✨ 2.7k words that boinked me in the head cause i miss the good old days.

The new guy is way too green to be fit into a match right before the main event and Daniel voices his genuine concern with zero hesitation. It's his reputation at risk. Christian claps him on the shoulder assuredly, paints the guy — his name is Max and he goes by Super Max until creative will have something to do with that, fuck's sake — in the brightest colors. Tries to make a sell, a corporate rat in and out of the ring.

And the thing is, the new guy is sort of gloomy, doesn't smile much even when Daniel offers his signature greeting. He's not a fucking asshole, he won't tell a rookie to go to hell for that. They've all been there, first day jitters and all. But, man, this new guy. Something is off about him.

His ring gear, for starters, and Daniel shouldn't be the judge since his mom made him his first ill-fitting set back in Australia when Daniel was seventeen and scrawny, fresh-faced with crooked teeth and the energy of three hundred power plants. So, yeah, it's bad wrestling etiquette or whatever but the outline of a lion in the middle of the rookies' — sorry, Max's — ass is… something. The blue and gold shorty shorts fit alright, though, Daniel does give them an appreciative look. He prefers pants and shin guards, that's all.

And, shit, looks like this Super Max, for crying out loud, designs his gear himself, judging by this very self-indulgent print. People are gonna tear him to shreds, like vultures; crush his spirit, knowing how this biz works when you're twenty-five and still wide-eyed, full of dreams of making it big, becoming the next Shawn Michaels or The Great Senna.

Max is surely no wrestling royalty, no Rosberg or Flair or Schumaher. His dad was some midcarder in the late eighties back when FWF was at the cusp of breaking viewership records. And, surely, Max is a texbook continuation of his father's unfulfilled hopes. Daniel can read it in the way Max held himself, in the way his arms fidget when he talks and beside him Christian nods, proud, like it was his son making his big screen debut.

Daniel wonders, why him. Putting Max against younger guys would have been more plausible. Putting a company rookie against an established champion definitely seemed like a choice.

"Don't forget that I make the calls, Daniel," Christian says, the finality in his voice clear as day when Max steps away to put his signature on a contract for the night. Then the suit-and-tie fucker gives him a cunning little smile and Daniel swallows a witty response stuck on the tip of his tongue. "Besides, he asked very, uh, insistently to pair you two up. How could I have been in the right mind to say no to the future of wrestling wanting to take on one of the crowd favorites?"

Well. Fuck. Daniel would know how, being an absolute gem on the mic but nobody's asking, so he's shit out of luck in that department. And currently booked in match with a guy who apparently admires him. Same height and, what? Eight years younger? Daniel tries not to read it as a sign for retirement.

They settle on a cage match and, surely, it means essentially throwing Max into the deep end from day one but his eyes shine eagerly and he goes on a tangent, dissects the match step by step as if he's been running with the FWF for as long as Daniel did. Ten fucking years, thank you very much, and he knows damn well how to put on a show without some jobber — alright, sure, Daniel isn't supposed to squash him but still — running his mouth with a wrestling for dummies kind of talk. But Max didn't look like the same person who glowered at Daniel minutes before. He seems like someone who loved wrestling with all his being, lived and breathed the craft, came alive with the sound of the bell, the boos and cheers; the bruises and tore muscles, broken bones and bittersweet victories.

"We doing the spot?" Daniel interrupts but in good nature, stretching his shoulders one by one, wearing a lazy smile to hide his annoyance. He half expects Max to refuse, back out of it. Wouldn't blame him, really. "Top of the cage, before the bell."

"Of course," Max answers too quickly, voice croaky, his chin lifted high as if Daniel offended him. Doubted him on the spot; doubted his hunger to make a name in the biggest wrestling federation known in the world. "It's a cage match after all. We have to make a good show."

We, huh? Perhaps the kid knows a thing or two.

"Yeah, cool," Daniel tugs his Beats on, cues a special playlist in a pre-match ritual. "See ya in the ring, Super Maxy-Max."

He walks off to warm up as the show begins but not before noticing a sudden blush on Max's pale cheeks, his chest puffing with a response that he breathes out in a language Daniel can't place. He bounces around backstage, high-fives miserable-looking Charles on his way from the ring. His chest is streaked with red lines. Poor guy took the brunt of Fernando's chops. Daniel could still hear his music playing as he celebrated a win accompanied by heartfelt boos of the crowd. Eh, fucking marks.

Daniel makes a point of not acknowledging Max at gorilla position, adjusting his shockingly colourful ring gear instead, slinging the FWF championship belt over his shoulder. It's childish to use it as a shield and Daniel is the nicest guy to his core, cross his heart, but the wrestling biz is cutthroat. And even Max's music is not on par with the standarts when it plays after Daniel finished making his way to the ring, greeted the crowd and sent the shirt he wore flying towards the grabby hands of his faithful fans. They are, truly so, booing loudly along with the generic entrance song, letting Max feel their disdain from the start, not letting him mistake it as a warm welcome. Not against their favorite Badger.

And yet, Max's face remains blank. The way he slowly removes his own t-shirt and neatly leaves it on the side of the ring pulls a chuckle out of Daniel. God, he's so spectacularly green.

Simply on the grounds of Daniel being a fucking face, he reaches his hand out after the bell dings and the metal cage above them descends agonizingly slow, inviting Max to lock up; a class act. Max knocks his hand away, expression scrunched in a mask of disgust. Daniel takes every assumption he made back; they're about to have a grand ol' time.

Max's style is a bit choppy but he doesn't strike Daniel as a high-flying type. Mostly old school moves, orchestrated to a precision not every rookie has. They exchange a couple of blows and Daniel takes initiative for the time being. He ducks away from a spear and Max hits the turnbuckle shoulder first, turning with a grimace of pain. He doesn't oversell, a great fucking sign for them both, and Daniel bounces off the ropes to deliver a flying knee to the side of Max's jaw. He takes it magnificently, falling to his knees completely unbalanced.

Maybe, just maybe, he owes Christian the benefit of the doubt. At very least, their styles are a match, perfect opposites to elevate each other's strengths. Max's brawler against Daniel's technician; a study of contrasts between the brawn and the showmanship.

He ends up putting Max in a figure-four smack dab in the middle of the ring so he can’t reach for the ropes to save himself and, shit, he sells so wonderfully that Daniel's mind wanders. There is something in the bend of Max's neck, in the strength of his entire figure — built but limber, writhing under Daniel's scrutiny, completely at his mercy. The give Max's body begs to be molded in his hands and, suddenly, a startlingly clear image surfaces at the back of Daniel's mind. Tag matches turning into tag titles, titles turning into a betrayal to feed the storyline; and then the redemption arc.

Then, a reunion. Full circle. Squared circle.

It's breathtaking, in truth. The easy push and pull, the synergy buzzing in the air between them, Max struggling out of the submission hold to pin Daniel's shoulders against the mat. A brash fucking attempt for a pin; he kicks out at one and rolls some distance away, eyeing Max to add to the dramatic of their unlikely clash.

The crowd goes wild. Daniel stretches his lips in a smile, sharp like the jagged edges of the glass they pour out for hardcore matches. He catches himself thinking that he'd go for one with Max. Maybe just to see those lips bloodied, returning his smile tenfold.

Time's almost out, the referee lets them know discreetly. Daniel lets Max turn the tide, drive him head first into the wall of the cage, hitting through the ropes with a clang. Daniel's head gets beaten against the turnbuckle, his back slammed against the mat with a perfectly executed chokeslam and the crowd gasps with sympathy. Max busies himself with prying the gate of the cage open, acting the heel part eerily well as Daniel catches his breath, sells Max's beating appropriately, without an overkill.

He pulls Daniel outside of the cage, outside the ring, dragging his face against the barricade towards the commentator table. Max makes sure to interact with the crows, give them an opportunity to hate him, call him names. Something akin to adoration swells in Daniel's chest; he doesn't understand where it's coming from and then Max clotheslines him hard and he crumbles onto the floor lined with thin mats.

Good move, that. Suits the set up right.

Max almost throws a middle finger to the crowd and starts climbing the side of the cage with a single intent, much to the horror of the arena. Yeah, real fucking marks but Daniel wouldn't have it any other way. He counts to thirty in his head, sprawled flat on his back near the commentator table, having one of their tiny screens jammed in his midsection before by Max's enthusiastic efforts. He counts and follows the lines of Max's body, the broadness of his shoulders and the paleness of his skin. It makes Daniel's mind wander anew, in a direction it shouldn't, not in the middle of a high-risk match.

The crowd gets antsy, urging Daniel to get the hell up, and so he does, Max halfway up on the cage, unknowing, with a sinister plan of his own. His muscles protest but it's hardly anything new. Daniel manages to catch up to Max in a flurry of adrenaline-addled motion, reaching up to hook his hand in Max's ridiculous shorts. Max looks down at him, expression purely shocked to satisfy the crowd and Daniel counts again as he tugs. Once, twice.

It's never pleasant, plummeting down and straight onto the commentator table. It breaks with a horrible sound under Max's back and he lies there, unmoving, the commentators standing not far away, still doing their job. Daniel hangs onto the slippery metal of the cage, listening to the crowd yelling and frothing at the mouth for him to do the thing they all came here for. He raises one hand and pumps his fists in the air twice, eliciting a reaction that makes his mind go into an overdrive.

He takes a breath, bending his elbow for his signature move and jumps.

The Ricciardo Special lands beautifully on Max's midsection, making him yelp and seize from the pain. Daniel is so used to hitting the ground this way but the calmness that comes hand in hand with the fall is forever unsettling. Max breathes raggedly underneath him, limbs akimbo and his eyes half-shut, eyelashes fanning his splotched cheeks. From Daniel's point of view he looks like someone gave him a fuck of a lifetime. The sight makes Daniel's heart skip.

In the wreckage at the ringside, the perpetual hunger Daniel left unsated stirs impatiently, awakening from a famished slumber.

Max's body under his own feels like it belongs; feels like a missing piece finally fitting. It hits Daniel like a freight train, the all-encompassing normalcy in the midst of controlled chaos.

He squeezes Max's wrist twice in a silent question, their limbs tangled together on the broken bits of the table. Max's fingers twitch against his hold — yes, I'm okay.

And the show goes on towards the long-awaited climax.

It takes Daniel thirty seconds to peel Max off the floor by the back of his neck, squeezing tight and roughly hauling him back inside the cage, rolling them both into the ring. It's a whole ordeal, his body exhausted and Max matches him there, too, playing the beaten to the pulp heel as if he's been doing it since he learned how to walk. Daniel drags him to the middle of the mat again, admiring the pliancy with which Max follows. There's a persistent ringing in his ears and an electric shock wracks through him when he gets his hand's on parts of Max's body he managed not yet to touch, no resistance as he bends him in half, Daniel's palm sliding against the sweaty skin under Max's knees. The referee appears next to them, slamming his palm against the mat.

One. Two.

And when Max eats the pin like he's supposed to, like they've settled in the pre-match booking with Christian, Max's prominent mouth pressed into a thin line making Daniel think who the fuck does this jobber think he is, all the sounds of the packed arena rush into his ears as the bell rings and the cage finally lifts, freeing them. The crowd erupts and Daniel rolls over onto his back, gulping air, Max's arm pinned under him, sweaty skin sticking together. His music hits like a fucking tornado; another win sequred under his belt but all Daniel can muster at that moment is to turn his head against the stiffness in his neck, catching Max's gaze already trained on him. Mouth open, chest rising up and falling so rapidly Daniel seems to lose his breath again.

Or perhaps it's the shine in Max's eyes, their color clear-blue like the spotlights above. Daniel finds it hard to look away and he desperately needs to drag himself to his feet, clutch the championship belt to his chest, an assurance of his stature; something solid to hang on to.

Max asked to wrestle him first. Daniel grasps at the foreign feeling blooming behind his ribcage.

His win doesn't feel like one. Not with Max suddenly so close to claiming a space for himself, claiming what's his and he's so damned good it scares Daniel momentarily. But the fear dissipates as quickly as the pain does when someone lands a chair shot just the right way. A satisfying kind of pain. With a slight twitch of his mouth, Max is the first to move away, further to the ropes. The skin of his back is angry red, the mess of moles speckled with blood where the impact from the commentator table scratched and tore into his flesh.

Max rolls off the ring and limps up the ramp, holding his ribs gingerly. He turns when the referee raises Daniel's hand and he manages to straighten the other one with belt in it, showing it off as you still got it echoes in a thousand voices. For the first time he doesn't revel in the outpour of love and adoration, the crowd clapping and chanting his name. He doesn't look them over with a smile and his chest still feels caged, much like he and Max were moments ago, locked in what wasn't just a match.

Something snaps; something ends. Daniel feels the shift clear, like the Earth tilting on its axis taking him with it and leaving Max standing still, his scuffed, golden boots rooted firmly to the ground. The weight of the championship belt turns laden, drags Daniel deep into the uncharted waters as he stares Max down, challenging and unabashed, blood thrumming with adrenaline. The bundled tightness in his chest lingers and lingers and lingers.

A corner of Max's mouth quirks up, eyes crinkling; no real malice behind them, just an answer to a soundless call, a promise for more.

Daniel feels like he's the one plummeting down from the cage, from the top of a tower he built in his own name, not with stone but with blood, sweat and tears. Max follows suit, crashing into him without reservation, raw talent and blunt force, the soft edges of him breaking through skin and bone going straight for the heart; straight for the pin.

The count follows, inescapably.

In his mind, Daniel doesn't kick out.

#vicsy writes #maxiel #waves hands vaguelly #this is very poorly put together and i haven't written so deliriously in months #serves me right to remember that wrestling is my first love #daniel/max #maxiel fic #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #f1 rpf #333 #apologies for all the fucking mistakes I surely missed #i just need to get it all out #wrestling au

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aight-griffin · 3 months

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One Piece collage au

Inspired by @atomikats

Everyone is their canon post-timeskip age

Luffy:

Freshman

Undetermined major

Rarely, if ever, goes to class

Spends most of his time hanging out with his friends, going to protests, and fighting in underground cage fights.

Only goes to college because Garp pays for it. (Luffy was dishonorably discharged from the navy and Garp didn’t want to deal with him anymore.)

Stays around because of the Straw Hats.

Can’t drive

Speaks Portuguese

Lives with Usopp, Zoro, and Sanji. He and Usopp technically share a room, but he always ends up in Zoro’s bed.

Shanks is his godfather, but they haven’t seen each other in ages.

Called his friend group ‘the Straw Hats’ relentlessly until they adopted the nickname too.

On the wrestling team

Ace and Sabo are both in grad school, but he sees them occasionally

Zoro:

Junior

Fitness and Health major

Got in on a Kendo scholarship

Gym rat

Follows Luffy around whenever he’s not at the gym, no one can tell if they’re dating or not.

Can drive, but doesn’t because “walking everywhere is good cardio.” (He can’t make it a block without gps.)

Constantly bickering with Sanji

Bit of an alcoholic

Big trans ally

Always harrumph’s when he finds Luffy passed out in his bed/wakes up underneath Luffy, but never kicks him out.

Joined the wrestling team because of Luffy, now takes it was more seriously than him

Nami:

Junior

Finance/Geography double major

Meteorology minor

Lives off campus with her sister Nojiko, who inherited an urban tangerine farm from their mom Belemere.

Met Zoro her first year, but only became friends with him when they both met Luffy.

Dating Vivi, a foreign exchange student from Egypt.

Knows how to pickpocket

Regularly drinks every other Straw Hat under the table.

Vivi got a Roll’s Royce from her dad and Nami drives it every chance she gets

Ussop:

Sophomore

Chemistry major

Botany minor

He and Luffy were in the same grade in high school when they met, but Luffy took a gap year and Ussop went straight to college.

Started going to the gym after Zoro convinced him

Legacy student

Has anxiety

Likes to tell wild tales about the school so he can scare freshmen, but they rarely believe him.

Dating Kaya, who wants to be a pediatrician.

Captain of the slingshot club, tells everyone he has the world record for farthest shot with a slingshot.

Has a 2004 Honda Civic named Merry that he loves almost as much as his gf

Sanji:

Culinary student at a nearby trade school

Met the rest of the group when he ended up as roommates with Luffy, Ussop, and Zoro.

Works at Zeff’s seafood restaurant most nights.

Kickboxes on the side

Has zero free time, still manages to cook for the Straw Hats most days.

Ran away from his abusive dad as a kid, nearly starved before Zeff took him in.

The other Straw Hats like to show up at his work and piss him off. (He loves when they come but refuses to admit it.)

Constantly going on dates, can’t hold a girlfriend for more than a week.

Can drive

Had a fling with Nami when they were sophomores, never really got over her.

Has bipolar

Started smoking to calm himself down during manic episodes. It didn’t help, but now he can’t stop.

Chopper:

Freshman

Biology/Pharmaceutical Double Major

Biochemistry Minor

Highschool age, but got a scholarship to go to college early.

Raised by his grandpa Hiriluk, who died when he was 15

Lives with off campus with Dr. Kureha, who’s old friends with Hiriluk. (He calls her aunt Kureha.)

Met the Straw Hats when he found Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji walking home after a fight. They were bleeding, so he patched them up, and they were friends ever since.

Simultaneously baby and smartest member of the friend group.

Robin:

History professor

Mainly teaches Ancient Civ, Lost Languages, and archaeology.

PHD in archaeology.

Traveled the world and did her own research for several years after getting her PHD.

Only been teaching for two years

Knows over a dozen languages, half of them are dead.

Nami and Vivi have a class with her.

There are lots of rumors about her having a criminal record or being part of the mafia.

Franky:

Local mechanic

Owns a shop called the Franky Family

Married to Robin

Lost his legs in a train accident

Made his own prosthetic legs, constantly tinkering with and improving on them.

Goes to night classes for electrical and mechanical engineering.

Addicted to Coca-Cola

Has a class with Ussop

Luffy and Chopper met him while picking up Ussop and now think he’s the coolest guy in the entire world.

Brook:

Music Professor

Former Jazz pianist, started teaching when the last of his band mates died

Oldest person in the school, refuses to retire

His is the only class Luffy regularly shows up to

Prefers piano, but can play just about any instrument put in front of him

Likes to joke about hitting people with his cane. (Never actually does obv)

Assistant coach of the fencing team, says he could’ve gone pro with it but “the music was calling.”

Jinbei:

Head wrestling coach

Assistant swim coach

Teaches various martial arts to kids in his spare time

Loves his boat more than life, takes it out every chance he gets

Looks mean and strict, but is actually the nicest coach you’ve ever had

Has a soft spot for Luffy because Ace was his star player, but only barely puts up with his antics

Always trying to convince Sanji to join the swim team

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punkrockhistory · 9 months

Text

43 years ago

16 year old Adam Yauch photographed at Rat Cage Records in NYC, September 1980

Photo rights by Getty Images

#punk #punks #punkrock #hardcore #hardcorepunk #mc5 #adamyauch #history #punkrockhistory

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whiskeyswifty · 1 year

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looking back on folklore in it's historical context, another aspect of it that i think made it so special and hit so profoundly is how airy it's production style is. that is in contrast to when it was made and released, which was during the height of the strictest pandemic lockdown, in america at least. we were all confined to small rooms like rats in a cage, running up against the same four claustrophobic walls for months and months. along comes this album that has just the most open and breezy production. when that first piano note hits, it's allowed to echo and reverberate. her voice in caridgan and mtr and mirrorball and august echoes to the point where it harmonizes with itself, as if she was wailing into fifty foot ceilings of a cathedral or down the then vacant thoroughfares of new york. instrumentation is soft and spaced out, allowed to breathe, never crowding each other or stacking on top and collapsing in on each other. you can feel the space between the instruments, the air flowing freely and carrying the notes all around them. where typically you can hear the cushion of the recording booth muffling and absorbing the voices and notes, clipping them short. the whole album is full of airy reverb and spacious echo, creating a feeling of a boundless space, especially on headphones. but also, crucially, it's muddy and unpolished. you can hear all the squeaks of keys and the soft white noise that comes with every sound recording, typically "cleaned up" before finishing a song. it sounds unfiltered. and all together the atmosphere it creates in your ears feels like you're standing across the clearing from her as she's singing out into the very woods she's pictured in and hearing the rustling leaves and trees echo her desperate cries back to her for the vast songs. and for the intimate songs, her voice and the instrumentation is still open and three dimensional, but is brought closer until it feels like she's regaling you with these tales right beside you on that dock on the lake. some of this was created thanks to that great long pond studio of course, but a lot of it as we know was done in bedrooms and was then artificially treated with reverb and echo filters, layering her voice and delaying it for effect. that stylistic choice was so crucial to it's success and why it has such an organic, free flowing sound. how for those of us on day 105 trapped in those four walls, to close our eyes and be transported somewhere wide open like that, it was incredibly refreshing and cathartic and liberating in a way we perhaps didn't realize we needed, and one of the many reasons why, i think, it was such a profoundly impactful reprieve at that exact moment in time.

#it's always folklore hour here on whiskeyswifty #every time i press play i'm like GEEEEEEE WIZ this is a fucking masterpiece #always better than i remember and i remember it quite fondly so #folklore my ethereal forest nymph of an album

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xbadgerbearx · 1 month

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chapter 2: taxi

word count: 2.8k

Sonata in Darkness: [1] ... [3]

“Anni? Baby!?”

Selina marched through the apartment and quickly left you to search the rooms. The entire apartment was destroyed: furniture was flipped over, glass littered the floor, and the cats swarmed you as you entered. Unbelievable. Your friend’s muffled voice was calling out for her lover and growing ever more desperate. Staring ahead in mute shock, you pet the nearest cat numbly as Batman shuffled through some papers.

“Jesus, what’re they gonna do to her? She didn’t do nothin’.” Selina sighed as she took her place beside you. “Shit, they took my phone…”

“-the killer posted the following message on social media. We should warn you, the video is very disturbing.” Focusing your attention to the TV that was left on, it cut to a self recorded video with heavy breathing.

“Hello, people of Gotham,” the video started. “This is the Riddler speaking. On Halloween night, I killed your mayor because he was not who he pretended to be.” Batman was transfixed. “But I am not done… heeeree is another-” The camera flipped around to reveal a bound, naked man with a rat-cage contraption imprisoning his head. “-who will soon be losing face. I will kill again, and again, and again… until our Day of Judgment, when the truth of our city will FINALLY be unmasked.” The Riddler gleefully said goodbye as the news reporters started talking again. “Commissioner Savage served a distinguished 30 year career-“

“Holy shit, I seen that guy too,” Selina shakily said.

“Yeah,” you noted, “At the club.”

“The Iceberg Lounge?”

“44 Below,” you corrected Batman.

“What’s that?”

Selina rolled her eyes. “The club within the club—the real club… It’s a mob hangout.”

“Is that where you work?” Batman inquired.

She paused for a brief moment. “No, I just work the bar upstairs so I see ‘em come in, but she,” gesturing to you, “works below.”

The man glanced at you before prodding Selina. “Who?”

“Everybody. Lotta guys who shouldn’t be there, I can tell you that. Your basic, upstanding citizen types.”

“You’re going to help me on this,” he demanded, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “For your friend.” You and Selina shared a look.

“You got a lot of cats,” commented the man after your lack of replies.

“I have a thing about strays,” your feline roommate confessed.

Batman turned to leave, “You’re not safe here,” he concluded, giving you one last look before stepping out of the broken door.

Selina called after him, “We can take care of ourselves.”

“Can we?” you whispered.

“Of course. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“-with two public figures now dead in just the last two nights, and only days before the election, police and city officials are left searching for a killer, and hoping to find him before he kills again…”

————————————————————————————————

“Ow—I don’t know about these things.”

“I need to see in there, this hunting ground,” Batman mumbled to Selina, too engrossed in setting up his equipment in an abandoned diner. Putting in the contacts he had given wasn’t much of a challenge, nor too painful. Squeezing your eyes tight, you made sure that they slid comfortably into position.

Selina looked bothered as she picked lint at her trench coat. You both were wearing your typical club uniforms, although you had on a full length faux mink coat over yours. “Why am I starting to feel like a fish on a hook? I’m just looking for Annika-“

“That’s why you’re staying upstairs,” Batman interrupted, only sparing a glance in her direction, “and she’s going down.” He pointed at you but didn’t take his eyes off his surveillance equipment.

“It’ll be just like a normal night, Cat,” you reassured. “Can’t be too different from what we already do. You remember the plan?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off. “I stay upstairs and look out for trouble while you go downstairs and scurry around like a rat. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome here will, uh, do whatever it is he’s gonna do.”

Done setting up his tech, Batman turned around with his attention directed to Selina. “Look at me,” he ordered. She faced him and he inspected the lenses very closely, checking for any imperfections. He nodded his head slightly. “Looks good.” He took a step in your direction, “Now you. Look at me.” Facing him, you looked into his eyes, trying to find anything. His hand cupped your jaw as he scanned them, although judging by the length of time it took compared to Selina’s, something had to have been wrong.

“Everything okay?” you wondered.

He tilted your head side to side before answering, “Perfect.” He took a few more seconds before finally looking away and reached into his pocket. Earpieces. You and Selina each took one and made your way to the building.

“He better find Annika,” Selina growled.

“I’m sure we’ll find her,” you replied. “We just have to get through this tonight.”

She sighed, “ Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Making your way into the club, you both strutted in silence until Selina broke it in the dressing room. “Rat?”

“Yeah?”

“Be safe, please,” she muttered, taking a hold of your hand and squeezing it. “I can’t lose both of you.”

“Oh, Selin—of course I’ll try. Stay safe too,” you soothed before taking a turn to the 44 Below entrance, leaving Selina.

The bouncer, Kenzie, smiled at you, “Long time no see, baby, how’sit goin’?”

“That’s one of the guys I got into it with the other night.”

Hearing Batman’s voice in your ear made you jump a little, you forgot he was there.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Looks like I broke his nose.”

You played it off with a short laugh, “It’s alright, I was just spacing out. I’m here for my shift.”

“Kenzie, Williams. He’s an off duty cop.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he smiled politely. “Have a good night tonight. Drain those men of their tips, am I right?” Sharing a laugh, he let you into the elevator that takes you underground. The doors shut.

“Friend of yours?”

“No. He works here most nights so I see him often.”

“Hm.”

The doors opened up to reveal the party; it had a relaxing vibe with the techno music and dim lights. Unfortunately, you had to pass by a valley of men who sized you up like meat.

“Don’t look away,” Batman ordered when your gaze lowered. “I need time to make I.D.s—“

“Great,” you huffed. Lifting your head, you walked slowly and smoothly while trying to analyze all their faces.

“These guys have a little trouble with eye contact, don’t they?” You noted the irritation in his voice.

“What? You don’t like men lookin’ at you like candy?” He said nothing back. You strolled around the area a bit, not picking much up, before heading to a more secluded part. It was lined with booth tables and small lamps.

Pausing to lean on a wall for a break, a man nearby called out, “Excuse me?” Following the sound led you to a tall, average man with glasses that sat at a booth. You’ve only seen him a couple times before–a quiet type–but you strolled on over. “I was, uh, wondering where the bathrooms were?” He played with his hands nervously; he looked as if this was his first time talking to a girl before. It was a little cute.

“Parker, Patrick. A nobody. Leave him”

Ignoring the man in your ear, you smiled sweetly. It was literally your job, after all. “Of course, sugar, it’s down that hallway, second door on the left.”

He bashfully looked away, “Do you mind showing me? I went that way earlier but couldn’t find it.”

You gave it a quick thought. I mean, he didn’t look like a drop head—why not? “Sure thing,” you volunteered. He rose from his seat and waited to follow you patiently. Hooking arms with him, you led him away. His face went a deep red.

The man pulled out $10 and tried handing it to you, but you gave him a weird look. “Oh, am I not supposed to tip you?”

“For showing you the bathroom?”

“Er, yeah?”

You laughed, genuinely. Poor baby must not get out much. “No, hon, you don’t need to do that. Keep your money.”

The man’s smile faltered before his awkward demeanor came back. Playing with his hands, he asked, “Would you mind keeping me company for a while? I don’t really know anyone.”

You entertained the idea before Batman intervened, “He’s wasting your time. Leave him now.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll make sure to look for you throughout the night, though,” you apologized. He was already starting to grow on you.

His face went a bit pink before responding, “O-oh, that’s alright. I’ll keep an eye out as well. Have a goodnight.” He slipped behind the door and into the bathroom before you could say anything else. Sighing, you made your way back towards the booths and perused the aisle, continuing to I.D. people. A man, mid-drop, looked at you starstruck so you quickly avoided eye contact.

“Wait. Who was that—?”

“I got plenty a good look—“

“—Look back—“

“If I do that, It’s not gonna—

“I need to see his face—“

Sighing with an eye roll, you stop in your tracks and peered over your shoulder. The man took it as an invitation to stumble over.

“That’s the D.A.… Gil Colson.”

“God, happy? He’s comin’ over.”

“Talk to him.”

“Hey, how you doin’? I’m Gil,” Colson said with a dopey grin.

Throwing on a plastic smile, you fawned, “Oh my— aren’t you the D.A.?”

“Yeah—!”

“—wow! I’ve seen you on TV!”

“Is that right? I’ve seen you work here a couple times when I come in. It’s nice to see a familiar face ‘cause people are a little on edge.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I live on the edge.”

“That so? I like that,” he chuckled. “Do you want to come over?”

“Sure,” you purred. He led you to a group sitting at the table and offered a seat.

“This is Travis, Ritchie, Glen,” he started.

“That’s half the D.A.'s office.”

“And you know Carla here, right? That’s Cheri—don’t mind her, she’s taking a break.” She had drops in her hand. “We’re just here to drown our sorrow,” he concluded before offering you some drugs.

“Oh, no thank you—but don’t mind me, sweetie, you go ahead and enjoy.”

“Thanks. I got a lot on my shoulders with that psycho running around.”

“He’s wasted.”

“No shit,” you blurted out in response.

Gil Colson looked at you for a second before chuckling, “I like this girl.” He thought you were responding to him. You giggled. “I mean, this Riddler, he’s—he’s going after the most powerful people in the city. He knows so much—“

“He doesn’t know shit, man,” his buddy hissed.

“What’re you talking about? Yeah he does! What about that rat—“

“Hey, hey, Gil, come on. Think you maybe had a little too much. Slow down,” a different buddy chimed in.

“The rat. Ask him about the rat.”

Looking through your lashes, you placed a hand on his thigh and caressed it with your thumb. “Hey, you got a vermin problem? What’s goin’ on, honey,” you said, voice sultry.

He dragged a hand down his face before taking a deep breath, “I mean, there was a rat. We had an informant—we had big time information on Salvatore Maroni. That’s how we got him out of the drops business.”

“He’s talking about the Maroni case.”

“But if this guy knows, it’s gonna come out. And when it does, this whole city is gonna come apart.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear this,” a girl said beside Gil. “This is the kind of pillow talk that got that Russian girl disappeared.”

“Hey, what do you know about that,” you demanded, your demeanor changing instantly.

“Keep him talking.”

“Does anybody want a drink,” the girl asked as she stood to leave. You stood too, about to follow her, when—

“Stay put. I’m informing Selina right now.”

You seated yourself and smiled politely back at Gil. He took another drop; you started to feel uncomfortable. Just as you thought it wouldn’t end, a nerd in shining glasses appeared.

“It’s you again,” he exclaimed. He seemed less jumpy and a little more relaxed—confident, even. ‘Maybe he had a drink to calm his nerves?’

“Hi! Did you need somethin’, hon?”

“Uh, yeah, can you help me with something over here for a second?” He led you away from the D.A. and back to his original table. You both took a seat.

“What’d you need?”

“Oh, nothing,” he confessed. He went a bit pink again before continuing, “I was keeping an eye out and saw how uncomfortable he was making you.”

You gushed; how sweet was that? “Aww, honey, I appreciate that,” you thanked. “Been a while since someone decent showed up around here.”

Batman returned in your ear, “What happened? Where’s the D.A.?” He sounded frustrated, but something told you it had more to do with Selina than you leaving Gil.

“Men these days don’t know how to treat a lady right anymore,” the man in glasses sighed. He extended his arm in greeting, “I’m Eddie.” You accepted his hand. “I can’t wait ‘til this city finally undergoes real change.”

“Oh, you talkin’ about Bella Reál?”

“Even bigger than that. I’m waiting for some real, powerful, and lasting change—something that’ll really open the water gate. All the powerful people in Gotham just lie and deceit people. Aren’t you tired of that?”

“You’re wasting time with this clown. Go ahead and leave.”

“No.”

“No? You like corruption?”

“What?” You realized that you had responded to Batman instead of Eddie. “No—I mean—Yes, the amount of criminals out here are crazy. There’s almost more in office than there is on the street,” you scoffed with a grin.

Eddie mirrored your grin, “Exactly! Man, is it refreshing to find someone so like-minded. Say, what did you say your name was?”

You didn’t give him your name earlier, and you were about to when—

“Times up. Leave or I’ll come get you myself.”

Huffing, you smiled back at Eddie. “I’m sorry, sugar, I’m gonna have to call it a night. My feet are killing me.”

“Oh, did you need help walking back to your-“

“No thank you! I got it. You enjoy the rest of your evening,” you excused yourself with a wink as you left the table. Halfway to the exit you see Oz and Falcone.

“Hiya, baby.”

“Hey, Oz.”

“Hey…” Falcone crooned. “Been a while since I’ve seen you, gorgeous. How’ve ya been?” He reached out and caressed your chin with his thumb.

“I’ve-I’ve been okay… I was just, um, I was just finishing my shift.”

Falcone smirked, “Well… don’t be a stranger.” You left for the bathrooms after he walked away.

“You know Carmine Falcone?”

“I work at the mob spot, of course I know him.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a relationship with him.” He sounded angry.

“I don’t have a relationship with him. Never did. What’s your problem?”

“Well, that’s not what it looked like.”

“You don’t believe me? You really gonna be an asshole about this?” Your reflection stared back at a very pissed off self.

“Are you going to tell me the truth? You seeing another one of these mobsters? Some loser nobody?”

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” you hissed. “I’m risking my neck down here—I’ve done everything you’ve said, and now you're turning on me?” You pulled out the contact case and reached for your eyes. “What’s it matter to you if I’m seeing some ‘loser’ anyway?”

“Wait—what are you—?

“I’ve had enough of your bullshi—“ Batman’s camera immediately cut out as you took out the contact lenses. Taking a long, deep breath, you calmed yourself and pocketed the contact case. He could hear you mumbling curses, up until you remember you had the bud in your ear and took it out. Surprisingly, by the time you left the club you found Selina waiting and leaning against a wall.

“He piss you off too?”

“You could say that,” you mumbled. Linking arms with her, you set off to find a taxi. Before you could, the door behind you slammed open. It was the D.A.

“Hey! Lost you in there.”

“Yeah, I gotta go.”

“Oh. You—you need a ride? I’m right there,” Colson pointed to his car just off to the side.

“No, thank you, we’re good,” Selina barged. “Taxi!”

“Will I see you ‘round?” You glanced at him before rushing into the taxi cab that pulled over. The driver set off, leaving him in the dust.

Inside his car, however, was a very angry man in glasses. “You just don’t know how to treat a lady right, do you?”

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#reader #reader insert #the batman 2022 #batman x reader #dano riddler #battinson #sonata in darkness

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