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natusvincere · 6 days

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Lois Lane Reporting Live|| Felix and Vic

Timing: About a week ago Location: The Grit Pit Partings: @recoveringdreamer and @natusvincere Summary: Vic has somehow come up with the idea that the Grit Pit is operating as a secret underground ring to harm vampires, Felix becomes the unfortunate victim of her investigation. Warnings: N/A

Felix had been… employed by the Grit Pit for some time now. They’d fallen into the routine of it, even if they wanted, more than anything, to get out. They knew the people who were there regularly, from the frequent spectators with their loud voices and angry words to the upper management and their cruel games. More than anything, though, Felix was familiar with the other fighters. They’d faced most of them in the Pit at one point or another, and the ones they hadn’t fought, they’d seen in the locker room often enough to recognize them on sight. Most of them didn’t bother with small talk or getting to know one another — it made things a lot easier if you weren’t friendly with the people who you might be asked to brutally beat at any given moment — but Felix recognized them all pretty well. Even newer fighters were typically paraded around by someone proud of having trapped someone new, even if the fighter in question was still unaware of how binding their contract was.

So it was a little weird that Felix didn’t recognize the woman standing in the locker room tonight.

She wore thick-rimmed glasses, though Felix wasn’t sure if there was actually a lens in them. She held a notebook and was dressed in a smart suit. She looked like a cartoon of a stereotypical journalist, and it put them on edge just a little. Strangers in the locker room were never great, but strangers who looked like they might start asking questions were worse. Ducking their head, Felix did their best to slide by the stranger without attracting any attention.

Victoria was not a stranger to violence. In her over three centuries on the Earth, she had seen more than her fair share of it, even before she was undead. Her own death and turning (and subsequent years after as a baby vampire) were full of particularly violent memories as well, despite how much she wished to forget them. But violence, and all that came with it, were never something she enjoyed. She couldn’t understand why people would come to a place like the Grit Pit, where fighters were paid to be screamed at and beat the shit out of one another. It seemed extremely barbaric and inhumane. Over time, she had convinced herself that there had to be something more going on there. Somehow, she now believed that it must have been a front for something even more nefarious than just overt violence- was this part of a larger trick to destroy vampires? One that she had missed back when she was on the wrong side of morality when it came to the beasts?

She wasn’t sure. If she were more of an objective person, she might have been able to step back and see that this sort of conclusion was not a logical one to jump to. But her determination to be a better person had been having its way of superseding logic altogether lately, which is how she had ended up at the Grit Pit with a fake journalist pass and a mission to out them for their ways altogether.

“Hey you!”, she called to the person seemingly avoiding her eye contact. She had watched them hesitate in their fight multiple times mere moments before- maybe they were just the person she needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on here. She tried her best to hide any hint of Sweden in her accent, which still seemed to peak through despite speaking English for hundreds of years. Her attempt at a ‘journalist’ accent was somewhere between Brooklyn and Australian. “I’m workin’ on a beat for Wicked’s Rest Times.” Did the town even have a working newspaper? “About thriving local businesses. Why don’t you sit down and tell me about how you came to work for this fine establishment?”

They’d never been particularly lucky. Their entire life seemed to be a reflection of that very simple fact, shining through so brightly that it was blinding. From their mother’s death to their father’s overwhelming grief to Leo’s manipulation to the Grit Pit, Felix’s life seemed to be a snowball of bad luck rolling down a hill, growing larger and larger with each inch of ground it gained. So of course they couldn’t avoid the attention of the stranger in the locker room. Of course she’d call out to them specifically in an accent that was… strange and hard to pin down. They shouldn’t have been surprised about it in the slightest.

They tried to pretend not to hear her, tried to hurry the process of shoving their things into their duffel, but the luck that had never been on their side before didn’t seem keen on running to meet them now. They dropped a sock on the ground, leaned down to pick it up only to knock their duffel over and spill the contents on the floor of the locker room, effectively trapping them for the amount of time it would take to clean it all up. That gave the woman — the journalist, because of course she was a journalist — plenty of time to approach them. Felix tried to suppress a groan.

What was she asking about? Thriving local businesses? Was that what the Grit Pit was? The reminder of their contract’s nondisclosure clause churned in their gut, and they shook their head quickly. “Um, no, sorry, I don’t — I mean, I don’t have a lot of time. I have, uh, somewhere else to be right after this, and I’m not very good at talking to people anyway, so you probably don’t want to interview me. Um, there’s a guy over that way who might be able to answer your questions, I bet.” They gestured vaguely to where Wyatt had disappeared, feeling a little guilty for throwing him under the bus but knowing he’d be better at getting rid of the journalist, anyway.

—

This person must have been nervous. Clothes were tumbling from their bag before they even had a chance to muster a response, and Vic glanced down at them before she stepped closer to her interviewee. There was a small part of her that felt bad that they were nervous, but a bigger part that reveled in it. Nerves put people on edge, and Vic knew from experience that people on edge were more prone to spilling their guts. In the least literal way, of course. Even if the information they gave her was miniscule, Vic was hopeful whatever she got out of them would leave her closer to rescuing vampires from whatever was going on at the Grit Pit. Ignoring their protests and their gesture to someone unknown behind her, she held out her hand for them to shake.

“The name’s Missy Spitz.” Believe it or not, Vic had come up with that alias hours before. No one would trace anything back to her if this person came up with any good juice. “You know, an employer isn’t allowed to keep you from talking to the press, nor are they able to retaliate for information released.” She wondered if her lies would cost this person their job. Perhaps they’d find something upstanding and nonviolent instead. Maybe this would work out well for everyone.

“This won’t take too long. I just need to know a bit more about your employer and I’ll be on my merry way.” As if to show how unthreatening she was, Vic leaned down, picking up one of the fallen shirts and helping to fold it. It was stinky and sweaty, and although she folded it neatly, she pinched two fingers together to hand it over. “Now, how long have you been working for the Grit Pit?”

—

Her hand was directly in front of him, and Felix was a little too polite not to reach out and shake it, even if they had no real desire to continue the conversation. They glanced back towards where Wyatt had disappeared to, but he’d already exited the locker room and seemed to have no plans of returning. Felix did another quick sweep, hoping to find some familiar face to rescue them, but it was no use. It wasn’t a full moon, which meant Samir wasn’t around, and most of the other fighters didn’t talk to him. Even if they did, it seemed everyone else had already dispersed. No one seemed keen on hanging around the locker room too long when the night was over, especially not when some stranger was there asking questions. Felix was on their own here.

“That’s not your name,” they blurted, then immediately regretted the outburst. “Sorry. I mean, maybe — maybe that is your name. But it doesn’t really sound like a real name. I don’t know anyone named Missy Splitz. I don’t even think Splitz is a name. Missy is a name, maybe, but it’s more of a nickname. Isn’t it? Is, um, is your name something else, and people just call you Missy? Or did you choose the name Missy? It’s not a bad name. I think it’s fine. I just don’t think — I’m not — Um.”

Maybe this would work in their favor. If Felix couldn’t convince the reporter to leave by asking, maybe they could make conversation so incredibly awkward that she’d choose to go away just to get out of it. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would happen quickly, however. She began making claims that an employer couldn’t make you not talk to the press, and Felix let out an awkward, uncomfortable laugh. An employer, he wanted to say, could make you do a lot of things when that employer was something like the Grit Pit. But just thinking the words made their tongue burn, either because of the contract or because of some mental block their mind had created to protect them from it.

Still stuffing their clothes into their bag, Felix avoided eye contact. “I really, um, I’m sorry, but I don’t — I don’t really have a lot of time to talk. I have to go home to feed my cat. She has to eat at the same time every night, or else she gets mad. And I don’t — I don’t want her to be mad at me, so I’ve gotta… I really can’t stay. Sorry, uh, Miss Splitz. Missy Splitz. Are you sure that’s your name?”

—

Vic put her hand on her chest, feigning shock and offense at the person’s declaration. “Excuse me?”, she said, accusatory and flushed. “It’s Missy Spitz. Not Missy Splitz. And I sincerely hope you didn’t just insult my reputable mother and my extremely loving and attentive father, who are both alive and well, by insulting the name they gave me when they laid their eyes upon my small, newborn face.” She worried, for a moment, that she was taking this character too seriously, but that moment was brief. “Missy. Spitz.”, she said, interrupting them with finality. “No nicknames, no jokes, just a given name. It’s generational, actually. Passed down… from my mother’s side. I’m the 17th Missy Spitz in my family.”

She didn’t need their eye contact to win them over, all she needed was for them to give her the information before someone more important caught her back here. She adjusted her fake press pass she had made, hoping he realized she meant business. “Your cat can wait. It’s important for children and animals to experience age-appropriate uncomfortable emotions, so that they’re better equipped to process them. It helps with a trusted adult guiding the way, of course, but your cat can wait. The skinny on the hooey? It needs to be spilled now.” Years ago, she read a book about a journalist who used that term. Thank goodness for her extensive research.

Again, this person was insulting Vic’s pretend name. She was starting to get for-real offended, instead of just in-character. “You cannot seriously be throwing around such raucous accusations when you yourself have yet to even tell me your name. How am I meant to write a proper report without your name? Go on, fighting-person. Tell me your name, so I can mock you as well.”

—

“Oh! I, um, sorry! I thought — I thought you said Splitz.” Felix turned bright red, hands trembling a little as they continued stuffing things into their duffel with a desperate speed. This, of course, caused its own issues; the trembling made it hard to get things into the bag properly, and more items were dropped and picked up and dropped again. “I’m not — I wasn’t, uh, insulting anyone. Especially not your parents! I was just, um, you know, it’s not — I haven’t heard that name before. I just — I was curious if you chose it yourself or not. I know, you know, a few people who have chosen their own names, and I think it’s cool. I don’t think I’d be able to choose my own name. I’d get overwhelmed, because there’s so many names out there. Like, where do you start? Right? But it’s cool, uh, that your parents named you Missy when — when you were a baby. And it’s cool that it’s a family name! Do you, um, did your dad… take your mom’s last name, then? If it’s from your mom’s side? I think that’s cool, too. I think it’s weird how people expect a woman to take her husband’s last name, but not the other way around. Right?”

They were hoping the cat excuse would get them out of this, but Felix had never been particularly lucky. The journalist — Missy Spitz, not Missy Splitz — was adamant, and Felix was bad at saying no even when they couldn’t say yes. Their eyes darted to the door of the locker room, though they weren’t sure if they were hoping for another fighter to come in and take Missy’s attention or a higher up from the Pit to come yell at her to go. Both options seemed cruel in one way or another. Missy earning a spot on the Grit Pit’s radar was a bad thing, and wishing for another fighter to be put in an uncomfortable position like the one Felix was in now seemed mean spirited. But Felix wasn’t equipped to handle this, and they knew it. “I don’t — I don’t have any… skinny on the hooey. Honest. I just, um, I’m just trying to go home.”

Wincing as she claimed they were insulting her again — they really hadn’t meant to! — Felix kept their gaze trained on the duffel that they’d more or less given up on packing. Their hands were shaking so much now that the bag’s zipper was banging absently against the bench every so often, the hollow thunk seeming to echo through the empty locker room. “I don’t — I don’t really think you should write a report. There’s a lot of cooler things to report on! Have you seen the leg? You should write a report on the leg!”

—

It was almost comical how the clothing kept falling in the bag as the Wildcat was trying to load it up. If Vic really worked for the newspaper, she might have drawn a silly comic of the sight Missy Spitz was a professional, though, so she had to find a way to stifle her amusement. “I’ve never heard anyone call their child ‘Wildcat’ either, but you don’t see me questioning you, now do you?” She kind of liked this strange, anxious groveling the fighter was doing, and she smirked with a weird sense of power as they continued to fawn. Yes, she was important. Yes, this person should be worried about how they made her feel. Is this how CEOs felt? Maybe once Rosie was grown up, Vic would try her hand at being a CEO. She would only hire grovelers of course, and people who didn’t like pineapple on pizza.

Wildcat’s question threw her off, and actually made her drop her smug, satisfied look. She hadn’t thought of that little detail when she made up the lie about 7 generations. “Oh, of course! My very loving, feminist father didn’t dare dream of asking his wife to take his name. He even made our beds every morning. I had a lovely childhood.” Vic was starting to feel sort of jealous of Missy Spitz and this fantastical life she led. “It’s unequivocally weird. Society is not as forward thinking as it assumes it is.”

“The leg is not a thriving small business. What good would that do my reputable article?��, Vic accused, now feeling annoyed. Wildcat wasn’t giving answers, and their eyes were shifting anywhere but Vic’s, seemingly looking for an out, so she knew it was time to pull out the big guns. Like the paparazzi did in hollywood. No more asking if she could ask questions, she just needed to ask them loudly until she got an answer. “Do you have any comments on the rumor that the Grit Prit is just a front for more nefarious ongoings, including the planned harm and destruction of specific groups of people that occupy this town?”, she asked, holding an invisible microphone near his face. It felt more official, somehow.

—

“Well, that’s a nickname! It’s not on my driver’s license. Which — Which is a valid driver’s license, by the way. It doesn’t expire for another year.” They weren’t sure why that felt important to add. In all honesty, Felix was floundering. They felt like they were in trouble, and they didn’t want to be. “Um, is Missy a nickname? Is it short for — Missandra?” They wanted the conversation to stay away from the reason she’d come here, even if that was probably impossible. Felix wasn’t enough of a wordsmith to properly distract someone from their intended conversation. Felix was barely enough of a wordsmith to carry on any conversation at all.

At least Missy Spitz, like most people, didn’t mind talking about herself. That was a nice way to distract people, sometimes. Felix liked to think it made them happy, too. People liked sharing little facts about themselves, like the fact that their families had nice fathers who took their mothers’ surnames and made the bed without asking. Felix tried to swallow the envious feeling at the idea of Missy Spitz’s father, who had probably never sent them into the woods with a shovel and a corpse and refused to let them back in the house until the grave was filled in entirely. “That’s cool. Your dad sounds really cool. What, uh, what’s his name?”

The conversation was spiraling, getting away from Felix in a way they didn’t know how to control. The leg wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Missy Spitz’s forward-thinking, feminist family wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Felix’s inability to get their sock to stay in their duffel wasn’t what Missy Spitz wanted to talk about. Missy Spitz wanted to talk about the Grit Pit, and Felix didn’t. Their heart picked up its pace as she asked a particularly hard-hitting question, their stomach churning. They felt sick, felt uneasy, and they didn’t know how much of that was the contract and how much of that was them. These days, that was something that happened a little too often. “I think I left my stove on! I really need to go turn off my stove. I’m sorry I thought your name was Missy Splitz!”

—

Oh. That made way more sense. Of course they would use nicknames in a seedy place like this. Vic should have known. This just pointed to more nefarious activities at the Grit Pit. She wrote the word ‘fraud’ with a sad face in her little notebook, the first note she had jotted down since she’d arrived. “So what’s your real name, then? Does it worry you to utter your real name in earshot of your controlling boss, or is that anxiety I’m picking up on about something else?” She paused, though not because she realized the irony that she was faking her own name, just like the wildcat, but to come up with a believable answer to his question. “It’s short for Misandry, actually”, she deadpanned. She wanted to smirk so bad, because that was funny, but instead, she just stared at them.

The mention of her father took all the joy out of her mind. Although, she supposed Wildcat wasn’t asking about her father, they were asking about Missy’s. Misdandry’s. “His name? His name is Franklin Delano Spitz. Although most people lovingly refer to him as D-man. He’s very jolly too, you see? I’m sure he’d disapprove of whatever is going on here too, but I wouldn’t want to worry a sweet, old man with the likes of this.”

Journalists lied all the time, right? Vic wondered how far of a lie she could tell without the whole situation becoming a bit ethically gray. Was it wrong to let this person think that wonderful fathers like Franklin Delano Spitz existed in this cruel world? Wildcat seemed to be going through a sort of moral crisis on their own, too, and Vic was beginning to wonder if she was pushing this too far. Sure, she hadn’t gotten too much information about the Grit Pit yet, but the confirmation that something else was going on was the definite first step she needed to pursue this further. “Well that was irresponsible of you. Don’t you have a neighbor you can call to check it before you get there?” Even with her harsh words, Vic finally allowed some distance between herself and the fighter, closing her one note notebook in the process. “Listen. I’d hate for you to start a fire just because you stuck around for an interview. I think I have all I need. Unless… there’s anything else you think might be valuable?”

—

They debated whether or not it was wise to give a journalist their real name, conflict rising in a way they hated. It wasn’t fair not to, was it? Missy Spitz had given Felix her real name, complete with its origin and a brief family history. Wouldn’t it be cruel to deny her the bare minimum in response. “Um, I’m — My name is Felix,” Felix said, stomach churning with doubt the moment the name was out. Did she have a point? Should they be worried about saying their name to a reporter where their bosses might hear? Felix had heard rumors that fae could take someone’s name — what if that was the punishment for this? Their eyes darted towards the door that led to the offices, their palms sweaty. They needed to get out of her before they really messed up. “Oh, Misandry is a beautiful name,” they muttered, afraid to comment anything else.

“D-Man. That’s cool. I like it when people have nicknames.” They felt another wave of guilt at the idea that they were doing something to upset Missy’s father, though they didn’t know the man at all. Disappointing fathers was something Felix had some experience in, but they didn’t think it was the sort of thing made easier by experience. “Oh, I don’t think he should be worried. Everything’s fine!” It wasn’t. Nothing was fine. Felix felt like they might be sick.

They shook their head quickly, deciding to cling to their flimsy excuse of a stove being left on. “No, I — I don’t have any neighbors. I, um, I’m a — a hermit. I live, uh, out in the woods.” Well, not anymore, though they wouldn’t say that to Missy. They needed to remove themself from this conversation before it became too late to do so. “I’m — I’m pretty irresponsible. I’m working on it, I’m trying to be better.” That wasn’t a lie. Felix knew they needed to improve on… more than one aspect of their life. But they wanted to be better. They really did. “No,” they muttered, looking down at their bag again. “I’m — I don’t have anything valuable. I’m sorry.”

—

“Felix”, said Vic, nodding in absolution. Felix the Wildcat. It was as solid of a name as any. She pretended to write it down in her notebook, although their name was never what she was after, just the information they could have provided. She hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed when they never ended up featured in a newspaper article. Maybe she could write a fake one and send it to them, just in case. “Thank you”, she said. “My ancestors 17 generations ago thought the same thing.” She wondered what kind of life Rosie might have if she went around with a first name like Misandry. Either really horrible, or absolutely fantastic, probably.

“Oh, so does he. He loves anything fun, and indulged in my hobbies as a child.” Maybe she should write a children’s book about this fictional Misandry and her wonderful parents. Her life seemed fascinating. Poor Felix still looked like they were going to pass out, though, so she decided to stop fantasizing and pay more attention to the task at hand. She knew all the first aid she needed to for a 3-year-old, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to revive an adult. Maybe all that fighting was getting to their head after all.

“Go”, she said, shooing them away with one hand and using the other to put her notebook in her pocket. “Before you make your hermit village into a forest fire and cause another travesty in this wild town.” She reached down to grab a last discarded shirt, placing it in their hand before they had a chance to leave. “And Felix? Don’t you worry. With a little hard work, we can all overcome irresponsibility and solitude.” Vic was proof of that, if only Felix knew the real her. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” With that, she tipped her makeshift journalist hat, smirking as she watched Felix scurry away. Maybe she didn’t get a ton of information about the Grit Pit like’d wanted, but she knew Missy Spitz work as a journalist was far, far from over.

#w:felix #w:llrl #w

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natusvincere · 8 days

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Should have known better || Jade & Vic

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: A park PARTIES: @natusvincere & @highoctanegem SUMMARY: Jade keeps sensing undead at the park, until she meets Vic. It's a meeting she won't forget. CONTENT WARNINGS: Domestic abuse (implied).

There was no such thing as losing her Spidey sense, right? Like, sure, sometimes Onyx or Ruby would use that fear tactic with her when she was young and didn’t know better. It was supposed to be encouraging, to trick Jade into training harder, but she was pretty sure it only gave her like, a really bad tummy ache and asthma as a result or whatever. (She was already at a disadvantage and somehow had to double her efforts? That did not sit well with her).

Those instances aside, she had never doubted her ability to spot undead in the wild before. Until tonight. The sun had already set, but there was still enough light for the playground she was parked next to bustle with life. Jade had been taking a small break from her last delivery when she first felt the ping. Her skin prickled, and a rush of adrenaline had her heart pounding in her chest. If there was a monster in the vicinity she had to take care of it, and fast. Especially with all the children and pets still occupying the space.

Jade climbed off her bike, grabbing a few weapons from inside her delivery box. Two knives, and a stake. Her crossbow stayed put for now. Cause it was like, a little too flashy for a late evening hunt. Just as she readied her weapons, the “signal” died. Gone, the threat had evaporated out of the area or something. (Like a certain woman who just had to go to Ireland). Jade blinked, uncertain, turning her attention to the crowd. Nothing out there gave any indications of supernatural activity. Let alone of the ‘puffing out’ variety.

It pulsed again, a beat later, as Jade considered the possibility of a glitch. Um. (Maybe she was tired?). She surveyed the crowd, trying to isolate the vampire responsible for her reaction. She had almost narrowed down the area, when the thrumming underneath her skin vanished. Again. (Was the reception bad or something? Was something blocking her?)

Something was definitely fishy, though. So she didn’t leave, instead Jade tried working with her defective radar. On. Off. On. Off (Was this trying to mirror her relationship with Regan?) (Homophobic!). But each time the switch flipped on, she made small progress. Until a woman sitting alone on a bench appeared to be the most likely suspect. She was watching an adorable little girl and a beautiful Rottweiler play together. It gave Jade a pause. Maybe she was a little defective, cause… vampires weren’t moms. And this lady, hot as she was, also looked as unassuming as anyone could be.

Weapons concealed inside her leather jacket, Jade sauntered toward the woman, flashing a disarming smile at her before sitting down. “Nice day out, huh? Have you been out here for long?” Like, since before the sunset? Jade omitted, but her eyelashes fluttered, curious gaze set on the woman.

Vic never knew if she should feel guilty that Rosie often didn’t get a chance to frolic around in the daylight. It was one of her favorite things to do as a child, basking in the warmth of the sun and surrounded by her mother’s flowers. Maybe it was even the one place she felt comfortable, away from the harsh eyes of others. Rosie, carefree and jovial as she was, didn’t seem to mind much, but Vic had seen enough on the app about clocks to warn her about the unintentional harm she could be doing to her child daily, just by depriving her of such a thing. She knew it was something she’d have to work around as the girl grew, but she knew from the moment Rosie was placed in her arms that she’d do anything for her. Even if it meant venturing out in pilgrim clothes and oversized hats for the rest of her life.

For now, Rosie seemed content enough, playing some sort of game of tag with Winnie that Vic couldn’t understand the unspoken rules of, although the two players of the game seemed to understand perfectly. Uncharacteristically, she let herself sit back as she watched them, purse tight at her side and filled with band-aids, disinfectant, daggers, and pepper-spray if anything were to go awry.

Most of the people who attempted to speak with her at the playground were other mothers, though Vic had a habit of brushing them off. Recently, she had begun to wonder if this was another slight to Rose-depriving her of those much sought-after playdates those Australian dogs were always going on about. So, despite herself, she turned to face the other woman.

“The Earth was making those loud bangs again today”, she huffed, rolling her eyes at the town she willingly decided to settle in. “I’d hardly call it nice.” This was small talk, right? It felt… uncomfortable. “We just arrived, although we come here often. I don’t remember ever seeing you here, though. Are you and your child new to town?” She looked around for the child in question, peeking here and there behind the play structure for another small, mousey being like the one sat next to her.

The woman looked stern, but like in a hot way. Like a grumpy librarian, who would reprimand you for speaking too loudly and wait… Huh. Yup, Jade was into that. Plus, having a kid immediately catapulted her to the MILF category, despite looking close in age. So definitely her type. But like, she probably shouldn’t be thinking about those kinds of things when said MILF was pinging her vamp radar, right? That was a line she wouldn’t cross. So it was better to make sure everything was in order before proceeding to lay on the charm.

“Oh,” a bittersweet smile pulled at her lips. Regan loved those bangs, didn’t she? She was missing out on them now, cause she chose the banshees over them (and her, but that was like, so chill) (It had been a few weeks she was so over it). She forced a laugh that then flourished into something more genuine. “Come on, it’s not so bad! It’s like, a sad trombone. Between you and me though, I think they should totally be aiming for saxophones instead. I mean, who doesn’t love a good saxophone, amirite?” a beat and then, “are you a Carly Rae Jepsen fan? Queen of the saxophone,” she looked up with a quirked eyebrow. Depending on the answer, she just might have to pardon another vampire.

Right on cue, her skin was ablaze again, hotter than usual due to the proximity. Jade was thrown off her game for a moment. Cause, seriously, how could it be? Only like, a second ago there was nothing to indicate the woman by her side was undead. And shoot, she was supposed to follow the conversation. “Do I… um, yup! Always. Just not around this time, I’m an afternoon gal myself. Uh…” Jade turned to the crowd of kids, trying to find her imaginary kid between the sea of sandy blondes and ashy brunettes, until she spotted the one raven-haired boy, hiding behind the tube slide. She perked up like any doting mother would. (She figured. She didn’t have too much experience in that department). “That one, little Samir over there. I’m guessing yours is the little kid with the Rottweiler? So cute! What’s her name?” She couldn’t jam the stake right there, could she? Too many freaking eyes to witness a woman turn to dust. Concealing supernatural life was somewhere in her codes, she just… couldn't, no matter how desperate she was to prove she was totally over her oopsie with Metzli.

And then, there was her curiosity. How did a child fit into the narrative? Was it just a ploy to appeal to soft slayers? The ones who let go of others simply cause they were trying to be “good monsters”? So ridiculous. But it went to show that vampires were getting smarter in their schemes.

Something Vic had said must have triggered something inside the girl across from her, because suddenly she was rambling on about brass instruments and pop stars when Vic had been sure they were only talking about the strange weather. If you could call it that. She normally had a witty remark prepared, one to push this sort of annoyance away and forget it ever existed, but there was a giggle from Rosie behind her that reminded her exactly why this sort of small talk was important. Even if it was tortuous. It was all she could do to stare at the women for another moment, blinking as she tried to process what was being said to her.

“I wish she were more definitive”, Vic said finally, after another beat of staring. She nodded, too, to get her point across. “Call Me Maybe is a wild instruction to give someone. Does she want them to call her or not? I don’t like the mixed messages that sort of song sends children. It’s important to stand up for what you believe in, not leave it up to a stranger to decide for you.”

The woman was shifty as she answered her question, squirming in her seat like it was burning her as she sat. Vic squinted her eyes, looking her up and down. This girl seemed innocent enough- small, a bit mouse-y, and definitely high energy. She watched the boy she pointed to run up to a man’s leg, hugging him from behind. She turned back to the other woman, pressing her lips together. “Samir’s father came too? How sweet that you all came as a family. I’d love to meet him, too”, she deadpanned, growing more suspicious of what was actually going on.

With or without the shifty circumstances, she didn’t quite trust strangers enough to just… give Rose’s name out all willy-nilly. She almost had given the daycare an alias when she realized how impractical that would have been. If Vic’s suspicions turned out to be unwarranted and Samir and Rosie were able to have an actual playdate, she could have explained the fake name away easily. “That’s Samantha”, Vic said, watching as Winnie made a game of licking Rosie’s face and running away, only to return for another kiss. A small smile played on her lips before she continued. “And Spike. My dog. She’s a guard dog, you know. She knows many commands in Swedish.” Döda was one of the many Winnie still hadn’t picked up, despite Vic’s many attempts. “And what should we call you?”

It wasn’t often people understood what she was referencing, at least vaguely. And like, Jade didn’t mind. She was always excited to talk about all of the things, but someone being in the know totally made things way easier. She liked a smooth convo. Even if the woman had a less than positive reaction to the topic in question. That was fine too, different strokes and all. Plus, not everybody could be right all the time like Jade was. She was gonna take what the other lady said as a joke anyway. It sounded like that, right? Some very dry sarcasm. She liked it. “That’s totally valid,” she grinned, counteracting the staring. “But see, I think she’s been reduced to a one hit wonder when actually, she’s a lot more decisive in her other songs. Like, ‘I really, really, really, really like you?’ that’s the opposite of mixed message, isn’t it? We should all deserve that level of specificity” Jade nodded, annoyed by the small pang of nostalgia hitting her. “You’re so right for that, though. It sounds like you’re gonna teach your baby well.” And wasn’t it nice when mothers cared for their children?

Luckily she didn’t get to think too long about other mothers, cause whoops… The tingling was gone again, and Jade was starting to think she was actually losing it. How could that be? Just her luck, she was about to become the first slayer to ever lose her spidey sense. As if she hadn’t failed enough in the past few months. This was totally her punishment for being a flop. She was gonna have to text Ruby, as much as she’d rather text Amber. Only one of them was always deemed an exemplary slayer. Maybe she knew how to fix it. (I don’t know how to fix failure, she’d probably reply) (It was totally cool). Wait, what were they talking about? Oh, little Samir. Who was running to his actual father, hugging him like the man might be a decent father figure. She couldn’t relate. (She learned pretty early in life that those weren’t gonna be offered at home). “Yup! That is Samir’s father. A man I slept with” Jade nodded, following the lie. She raised her hand and waved at them, even though either of them turned to wave back. (A little kid behind them did, though. So cute).

“Aw, little Samantha and Spike. Adorable. We can all gather after and maybe set up a little playdate for the kiddos,” Jade suggested, even though she was planning on mommy becoming dust eventually. (And what about the kid?) (Nope, better not think too hard about that). “My name is Amber,” she extended her hand, hoping her touch might still be good at detecting vampires. “Pleasure for you to meet me”.

“Specific, I suppose, but redundant.”, Vic started earnestly. “Why doesn’t she just say, ‘I adore you’, or, ‘I long to view your face the moment I awake from slumber’? Much more to the point. Perhaps she needs some intense lessons on communication to get her better equipped to handle the real world.” She couldn’t help but smile with pride at the compliment about her parenting, even if this stranger felt suspicious and shifty. She had been learning that compliments felt good, even when they came from the worst of humanity. Perhaps that was how people ended up in dangerous situations.

She eyed the woman waving to her supposed family, if you could even call them that, and noted the complete lack of reaction from them. “Yes, it is so much fun to sleep with a man. I can relate to this.” An important part of remaining innocuous was keeping up a realistic backstory. If the woman asked, Vic’s fake husband was lost at sea. “Do not think of Spike as adorable. She has mauled many robbers and hooligans at my command.” As she spoke, Winnie was trying (and failing) to lick her own butt. Rosie toddled toward them just before Vic could accept the handshake.

“Mamma”, she said, putting her small hands on Vic’s knees. They were filthy with dirt and sticky sap, no doubt from throwing sticks at Winnie earlier. Vic thought about her father’s extreme, harsh reactions to paint on her hands while she reached in her bag for a wipe to gently wipe them off. As she did though, Rosie opened her hand to reveal a purple flower she had found in the grass, grinning wide as she handed it over.

“Can we paint it later?” Rosie’s voice was a soft whisper, a big contrast to the boisterous energy that had filled her as she frolicked with Winnie. It was a typical reaction the three-year old had with strangers. “Maybe tomorrow, älskling”, she said with a warm smile, tucking the flower into her hair. “It’ll be almost time to sleep once we’re home”. Rosie nodded, her shyness taking over again, before she ran back over to tackle Winnie.

Vic turned back to the stranger, almost forgetting she was there. “Sorry… Amber, was it?”, she asked, finally reaching out to complete that handshake. “My friends call me Penny, so please refer to me as Penelope until we’re better acquainted.”

“Oooooh, a poet, are we? Or a flirt. Are you flirting?” Jade cocked a teasing brow, eyes narrowed. Did she want to see grumpy pants squirm a little bit? Maybe so. That wasn’t like, a crime or anything. She was right about something though, there were different ways to express a similar feeling. But like, just cause someone added more flourish to them (opened the thesaurus or something), didn’t make them more meaningful. An ‘I love you’ still trumped just about everything, and those were like, three simple words. It was a weird thing to get hung up on, actually. And it wasn’t cause she was still replaying the stranger's words in her head. (Not at all). “Are you into Taylor Swift? Is that what this is about? She has jams too, it’s not a competition.”

Unlike Jade, who was a total master of disguise, the other woman didn’t act like a competent liar. And like, sure, not everybody had as much experience as her but like… try a little? Now, Jade wondered if that meant the woman was a lesbian or if she was one of those poor straight women stuck in a marriage that lost the spark decades ago. But that was like, too nosy of a question, even for her. She kept her eyes narrowed curiously, trying to get both her spidey sense and her gaydar to work. Maybe it was a case that she couldn’t make both of them work at the same time, they were canceling each other out. Right! That was totally it. She darted her eyes back to the adorable Rottweiler, Spike, who unlike the woman claimed, looked as scary as a teddy bear. “Uh huh… But like, I would love to pet her, actually” She grinned, forgetting for a second where she was, who she was with, and what duty dictated. Who wouldn’t want to pet a beautiful dog?

It was all fun and games, until the little girl came running toward them.

Jade took in Sammy’s confidence, her joy reaching out for her mommy, so excited to show her what she had in her dirty hands. She was equally aware of the gentleness in the mother’s touch as she wiped her hands, her voice not one decibel higher than what she’d used with Jade. Softer even, warmer, cause that mom loved her baby. Not one passive-aggressive sigh, or a disgruntled mutter under her breath about her child daring to dirty her clothes. Or a hiss to get out of her way. Jade tried smiling down at the little girl, but it didn’t feel like she was doing it, she was just thinking of it. Her throat was doing that weird thing where it felt heavier, tighter. (Allergies) Not to make it about herself but, she was definitely doing it. Had her mother ever… Nope. Why even bother going down memory lane to find a crumb of affection? It didn’t exist. (She’d like, spent most of her teenage years searching for those memories). Her mother didn’t have the thunderous voice her father did, but it was never necessary. One hiss out of her mouth was enough to dismantle whatever confidence she’d tried building growing up. She would even be capable of it nowadays, if she spoke to Jade. (So maybe, the silent treatment was the best thing that ever happened to her).

Nope. Her mom wasn’t there, with tender hands wiping her dirt (or well, in her case, the blood) but in her absence, Jade had Ruby. Ruby, who struggled with physical affection, but was always there when Jade had a nightmare, rocking her back to sleep. Ruby, who made sure she ate all her meals, who braided her hair before training, who took care of every scrap and injury before and after she began fighting undead. Who received all the weird Mother’s Day presents they made at school. Ruby, who found a way to get Jade to understand her duty better than anyone. Who got through the barriers her heart and mind put up against her duty as a kid, steering her into the right path. Ruby, who Jade idolized to the point of fanaticism, until she was old enough to understand she would never measure up to her perfection.

Jade inhaled, blinking away the emotion in her eyes. She was just, a little more sentimental these days. She should check her period tracker, just in case. Bitterness simmered in her chest, when Penny remembered she existed. How dare she, actually. (Who was she, her mother?). She would make sure to be hard to ignore when she pressed that stake against her chest. “Amber, yup. That’s me. I don’t know how acquainted we’ll get though…” The first touch of her palm set Jade’s skin alight again, this time there was no mistaking it. Penny was a vampire. And that meant there was only one way this meeting ended. “You don’t strike me as a person who has too many hours on the day, you know? I bet we wouldn’t be able to take a nice morning stroll with the kids” The friendliness was gone from her tone, replaced by a more calculating approach.

Amber must have had something in her eyes, because Vic could have sworn that they were watering more than they had a moment ago. She might have even handed her a tissue if she wasn’t acting so shady. Vic’s cloaking bracelet, the one that she had gotten decades before when she first started working with hunters, jingled against both their wrists as they shook hands, and suddenly there was a very apparent change in mood. There was an accusation in Amber’s words. They were subtle and damning, and similar to how she might have called someone else out before her change of heart. Vic’s approach was always sickeningly sweet; charming and building trust with the vampires or their friends until the betrayal felt more painful than the stake through their hearts. Amber’s threatening tone had the opposite effect, and it immediately put her on edge.

How did she know? What gave it away? For years after she had escaped her sire, Vic was sure that people must be able to smell the new evil inside her. She spent decades ducking her head in shame away from accusing eyes, lest they get any inkling that she had been turned into a monster against her own free will. But then, she thought back to years ago, before she’d even made it to Wicked’s Rest, when her cloaking bracelet started malfunctioning and putting her in extreme danger. Slayers she had worked with for years were suddenly ready to kill her, and Vic had to flee before she had a chance to tie up any affairs. She had gotten the bracelet fixed, of course, recharmed, or whatever the spellcasters wanted to call it. Apparently she was going to have to find someone to fix it again.

Vic wanted to scoop up Rosie and run. She wanted to change their names and find a nice, quiet town like Forks, Washington where no one would know them or their unfortunate dispositions. But the chatter and laughter that tittered around them told her immediately that that would be a horrible idea. Amber may have been a hunter, but she couldn’t have been stupid enough to expose herself in front of all the people at the park. And so she sat, the only emotion evident on her face a twinge in her eyebrows.

“I do stay busy with my office job”, she said with a nod, her eyes briefly darting to take note of Rosie’s location. She knew Winnie would protect her if anything happened. “And with getting Samantha on the bus in the mornings and my overtime hours in the afternoons, you know, to keep the food on the table, we really don’t make it here till early evening most nights.” She tucked her hand into her pocket, fiddling with the dagger that rested inside, hoping the action might calm her nerves, even a little. “What is it you said you did for work again?”, she wondered aloud, giving Amber a once over. “I can’t imagine job interviews go over very well for you, given how nosy you seem to be with complete strangers.” If she could insult this small hunter enough, maybe she could get her to cry again so she’d go away in time for she and Rosie to make their escape. Thank god for the fake names.

Okay, so maybe Jade had previously underestimated the woman’s ability to lie. Cause sure, she didn’t believe for a second Penny ever enjoyed sleeping with men, but her reaction to Jade bringing up the elephant in the… park was subtle. She had a good poker face, she had to give her that. If she knew how to play poker she’d definitely want her on her team. (You could have teams in poker, right?) But the problem was, she didn’t look confused. She wasn’t looking at her like she was some weirdo talking nonsense. She was processing Jade’s insinuations like they meant something. Which, well… it was pretty telling even if her face remained impassive. There was a glance too, checking on her little one, that Jade could’ve passed as regular motherly concern (some moms did worry, after all) but it felt like a lot more than that.

She’d have to figure out why this woman was breaking her spidey sense later, cause protecting the little girl and the rest of the tiny crowd at the park took precedence. And see, as convincing as Penny’s face was, her words already sounded fake. Funny how she could only make it to the park at night. What was she gonna say next, that she was allergic to garlic? “Mhmm…right, right. Yup!” Jade followed along, though. She was fine with the woman trying to gain some time to figure out how to act next, cause that was exactly what she was doing too. It was polite, even. You can’t do improv with a bad partner. And ugh, Penny had to ruin it by reaching inside her pocket, where she hid her preferred weapon.

Jade tutted, challenge twinkling in her eyes when she met Penny’s gaze. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Is that really the type of behavior you wanna teach little Sammy? Plus, I have one of those pointy ones too, it’d get ugly.” And look to be fair, that was the exact type of behavior they should be teaching young girls. She was like, three when she held her first real knife (a little older when she actually started using them), there was nothing wrong with it, so good on Penny. But of course, she was just trying to get under her skin. “Oh? I’m a delivery driver, keep up babe… and I am a little nosy, you’re right” Penny looked at least to be considering her words, cause her hand hadn’t moved from her pocket, so that was something. “Call it… being a concerned citizen. I was raised to keep people like you from hurting others,” her face inched closer, hand trailing down the opening of her jacket. Stake or knife? Well if Penny pulled a knife then she’d draw her stake, no questions, but…

The little one’s laugh reached her ears. It was an adorable laugh, she had to admit. It made Jade’s heart lighter. Kids were so pure at that stage, when they didn’t know the horrors. Yet to be broken by the world. Was she willing to turn her mommy into dust in front of her? Be the first one to show her the world could be cruel? Become her Roman empire, so to speak? The little girl was human, Jade could tell that much. She vowed to protect humans. It was inconvenient that was for sure. Why was there nothing in her codes about this? It would be way easier to act. She never betrayed her codes. (Metzli didn’t count. Cause… she said so). She had to act, but do what, exactly? She would not let anyone off the hook again. They were called exceptions for a reason. But she could never traumatize a baby like that either. It wasn’t even something she’d entertain. Even if Penny was like, the worst vampire to ever vampire. Even if she had committed atrocities beyond Jade’s empathy. Putting a pin on it seemed like the only option. (So not really an option). “What’s your endgame? Turning her when she gets old enough? Teaching her to harm humans the way you do?”

Vic squared her shoulders, her grip on the dagger even more pronounced. She hated the challenge in Amber’s eyes, the look that told her the woman was eager for a successful hunt. Vic had spent years practically feeding that look to hunters for a pretty penny, it wasn’t fun being on the other end of it. The new glint in Amber’s eyes looked wildly familiar, and Vic wracked her brain for the hunters she had spent her time helping.. “I think combat skills are quite important in a young girl’s life, don’t you, Amber?”. She was challenging now, too, letting Amber know in so many words that she knew exactly what game they were playing. They were on the same page, and Vic wouldn’t be tricked. “I assumed as much”, she said, her gaze following down to Amber’s hands. She raised her eyebrows, letting the other woman know she was judging her. “Pointy things and untrained, uneducated fools always seem to be quite the dangerous combination. But I bet you know all about that, don’t you sweetheart?”

She was playing on an insecurity she wasn’t even sure the woman had, but it was all she had to go on at the moment, and so she was sticking with it. The worry that she came to a place like this to hurt someone else was enough of a stake through her heart, especially because she used to go to parks to do that very thing (although, not in the way Amber was thinking). And then, Amber challenged her again, accusing her of planning on hurting Rosie, and she saw herself lunging forward, sinking her teeth into the woman’s neck and draining until there was nothing left, tearing her apart while she screamed for mercy.

…

I am not a monster. I am not a monster. I am not a monster.

Winnie seemed to sense her discomfort and made her presence known next to Vic, now looking between Amber and Rosie for any indication that a threat was present. She let out a low growl, but a hand signal from Vic warned her to back off. “Spike’s not afraid to make a scene, you know.” Vic watched the woman’s face as it inched closer, resisting the urge to slap it away. “But she is afraid of sudden movements. I wouldn’t risk it.” She prayed a squirrel wouldn’t run by and ruin the facade that Winnie was holding up so perfectly.

Then, something in Amber’s face made her realize exactly who she was reminded of. “Amber Bloodworth?” she asked, her eyebrow quirking as she looked the woman up and down. It had been over a decade since she’d seen her, but she’d never forget eyes like that. “I’m a little hurt you don’t remember me, Sweetheart.” The pet name was spat out like a swear, meant to be more of an insult than anything. It was strange how little Amber had aged in the fifteen years since Vic had worked with her (and how much more annoying her personality became). “I used to bartend at the Shack, remember? Out west in California? I gave you some intel, you gave me some money. It was a really symbiotic relationship, if you ask me. Especially those nights we went back to your place. But I don’t forget a good fuck. It’s a shame you seem to be having delusions these days. Have you seen a doctor about your paranoia?” She pulled her hand out of her pocket, not completely positive she had the upper hand, but not sure that she didn’t either. If Amber were going to kill her, she would have done it already. Maybe dropping the bomb that they knew each other in the past would confuse her enough to send her on her way.

She hated that pet name. It had to be the only one known in history that made Jade feel icky. And sure, she’d used it before with other women, but it was totally different when it was aimed at her. She usually heard it the way Penny was throwing it around, like an insult. When it should’ve been like, the highest compliment. To have a sweet heart. Anyway, she was not gonna get riled up over a word, so she ignored Penny (if that was even her real name), cause Jade wasn’t the only one getting testy. There was aggression shining behind the other woman’s eyes. Showing her true colors, finally? Her fingers latched onto the stake, her newest one, Regan’s gift, the same way Penny fastened her grip on the blade. If it came down to agility she would not lose. She couldn’t stake the woman anymore, (cause of the surroundings, not cause she was considering Metzli-ing her), but if attacked, what else was she supposed to do? And oh, Spike did look a little more threatening now, if her low growl was anything to go by. Jade halted. There was no moving forward with it.

And, trust her, she loved a good plot twist, she especially loved it when there was absolutely no way to predict it. When it was something The Powers That Be pulled out of their butts. She preferred those over the ones that started with little hints here and there. Cause then it was just, doing math. Predictable. Jade was here for the big ones. Except, she wasn’t sure how to feel about this one, coming out of Penny’s mouth. How… She would’ve thought it was just a game. That the other woman was taunting her with silly lies to throw her off her game and run with her kiddo and pup. But, she knew her last name. She knew about California. About the Shack.“I…” Sorry, what!? Her flabber was gasted, her gob was smacked. Amber? Amber!? Jade’s jaw dropped, trying to connect all the dots. It didn’t make sense for her sister to do that. Wasn’t that fraternizing with… Her siblings were perfect. And like, not all were as great with the stake as Ruby, or deadly in combat like Jasper. But for Jade, they were always the pinnacle of what it meant to be a slayer.

Were they not? Some of them slept with undead? Amber’s empathy, which Jade always considered her biggest asset, to the point she went on to emulate her as a slayer, had apparently gone a little too far. She was… in cahoots with a vampire. Was. At some point. She, nope… this was too much.

Also? She did not need to know her sister was good in bed. EW. EW. EW. EW. EW. Forget about Penny’s hypothetical crimes, the woman deserved a stake for that alone. And what was with Amber having the most diabolical romantic choices? (As opposed to her, hung up on a woman who was never gonna return!). “My sister” she grumbled, picking up her jaw off the floor, setting it tight. Having to come clean was super annoying. “It seems you’ve met my sister” meeting was putting it lightly. STOP it, she hated this. “I’m the youngest Bloodworth. Jade,” she needed her sister’s side of it. She was Facetiming her as soon as she got rid of Penny. Why did it feel like everything had been flipped on an axis? Like, she genuinely felt a little shook. A little lightheaded. Could she get a different plot twist, maybe? “Just for touching my sister, you should pay, actually. I’ll tell her you said hi,” she wouldn’t (duh), but it was irrelevant, cause her words didn’t go past the threat. Sammy (if that was even her name), ran to meet her mommy and Spike, her innocent giggle dancing in the air. Jade pressed her lips together, frustrated over the interruption.

Amber had a slew of emotions playing across her face: confusion, disgustion, concern; but none of recognition. Vic would have been insulted if she wasn’t forming her exit plan. Still, Vic found herself amused that she seemed to have caught the previously smug slayer off-guard. She still had it, apparently. Whatever it may have been. And then her smirk grew wider when it became apparent she hadn’t been speaking with Amber at all. Ah, that made much more sense. “Christ, they had another one? I knew Amber had a few older siblings. Your parents don’t know when to quit.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rosie trotting toward the two of them, happy as can be and unaware that her mother and the pretty stranger had been, in so many words, threatening to stab each other while she played happily.

“You should. I’m sure she misses me.” She had the upper hand now, she was sure, and a Vic from three years ago might have continued egging Jade on. But there was someone else in the picture, now, and Rosie’s safety was her number one priority. She packed the toys, the wipes, and Rosie’s flower into her bag, lifted her up onto her hip, and stared down at Jade as Rosie rested her head on her shoulder. “I sincerely hope you understand how careful you need to be about your next steps. Spike and my friend in my pocket are far from our only means of protection, as I’m sure you can presume. Do your pretty little head a favor and forget about us so that Amber doesn’t have to be the youngest again.” It was an empty threat, but one she hoped would scare Jade enough to leave them alone. Winnie gave a final soft huff before they both walked away, Rosie looked back at Jade with a gentle, friendly wave as they trailed into the distance.

#w:jade #w #w:shkb #catch me with my title skills #domestic abuse tw

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