#joey is a silver tongued piece of shit: the story

[adobe-outdesign]

Opportunities

When opportunity knocks, you have to answer.

Warnings: Some implied violence, though nothing explicitly shown

“What would you say... if I told you that you could be Alice Angel permanently?”

Susie wiped the tears from her face, smudging a thin layer of eyeliner across her cheek. “W- What do you mean? Allison already-”

“Susie, Susie. We only switched the roles around in order to boost the character’s popularity! You’re the one and only Alice, as far as I’m concerned.”  Joey drew Susie closer to him, putting an arm around her still trembling shoulders.

“You really mean that, Joey?” Susie took a deep breath to steady herself, slightly ashamed of her little breakdown. She took a lock of hair and tucked it back into place in a weak attempt to fix her disheveled appearance.

“Of course! That’s why I’m extending this offer to you before I give it to Allison. She’d work decently, but I don’t think she has half the passion for Alice’s character that you do.”

“I- I mean, I’d love to accept immediately, but you still haven’t explained what the part is.”

Joey beamed, moving to the center of the room. “Imagine a world where Alice Angel is real. Not a cartoon, not a person in a cheap suit. The actual character herself, in the flesh and... ink, I suppose.”

Joey grabbed a book off the shelf and began to flip through it rapidly as he spoke. “I’ve always said that with enough belief, you can accomplish anything. This is no exception. Why do you think I bought that machine?”

“To produce ink...?“

“Not to produce it, to enhance it! You can’t do anything with regular old ink. But this? You can meld it into almost anything, provided you sacrifice a little something in return. That’s how we’ve been making all those Alice toys.” Joey abruptly slammed his book shut, turning back to her. “So? What do you say?”

“I mean- Well, the idea of bringing Alice to life is... amazing. I can’t imagine anything better than people being able to meet her in person. And I’m sure she’d love it too.“ Susie twirled a loose piece of hair around her finger. “But I’m confused. Why do you need me for this?”

“Simple. The machine can create inanimate objects just fine, but for something living... it needs something else. Something to give it substance, life. All people have that something by default. And if we want to make Alice real, I need to use someone close to her for it to work properly. That someone is you, obviously.”

“I don’t know, Joey. Wouldn’t that... hurt?”

“Of course not!,” he reassured her, his smile just a little too big, his enthusiasm just a bit too forced. “It’s no different than going to sleep. You drift off as normal old Susie Campbell, and wake up as an angel. Everyone will love you.”

Susie sat down on the adjacent couch, mind racing. I can be Alice Angel.

"I- Well, I mean, I’m certainly interested. But do you think I could have a few days just to, you know, think it over-?“

“Of course, of course! This is a big decision for you to make. Just consider it and let me know when you’ve made up your mind,“ Joey offered, sliding onto the couch next to her and putting his hand on hers. “But I know you’ll make the right choice. After all, opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime!”

"So, what do you say?”

Wally adjusted his position on the couch. “I don’t know, Joey. Are you sure you want me for this? I’m not exactly a voice actor or animator or anythin’-”

“Absolutely! You’d be a perfect Boris. You do feel like he’s similar to you, right?”

“Well yeah, sure I do, but-”

“Then that settles it! You’ll have your own living space right here in the studio along with all the food you can eat. The only thing you’ll have to do is greet guests that come through and record a few shorts now and then.”

“Hey, hey, hold the phone here! I didn’t say I’d do it yet. Wouldn’t that I mean I wouldn’t be a person anymore? Don’t get me wrong, I like the Bendy shorts as much as the next fellow, but I have things I still wanna do. Marry someone, maybe have some kids one day. I don’t even have my own place yet! And I wanna go to Club 21 and-”

“Relax, relax! You’re focusing far too much on the little details. Think bigger! You won’t age. You won’t get sick. You’d effectively be immortal, and any injuries you did get would be healed with just a bit of ink. You’d never have to worry about rent or living expenses again, and everyone would adore you. Doesn’t that sound better than living in a dingy little apartment for the rest of your life?”

Joey moved over to the couch, setting his hand on the other man’s back. “When opportunity comes knocking, you have to answer! That and a little belief is how I got to where I am today. So? What do you say?“

Grant rubbed his temples as he slouched over the desk, staring down at the sheets of paper in front of him. 465 + 2673. He ran his eyes down the columns, adding the numbers up mentally, trying to figure out where the error was. 3721 + 287...

A knot formed in his stomach as he went back to the first page, redoing the math for a third time. If he couldn’t account for the sudden deficit, he’d be fired. Or worse, be forced to shoulder it himself.

The thought made him feel ill. Such a massive debt with no job and a blacklisting from one of the most famous studios in the area... he’d be on the streets in no time.

Or he’d have to admit that he was a failure.

Grant gave up for the moment, leaning back over the chair and putting his hands on his face as his thoughts drifted to the conversation Joey and him had had a few days ago.

The very idea of making a physical cartoon was absurd in and of itself, really. And the angel that Joey had presented as evidence wasn’t terribly compelling, seeing as it was nothing but Susie Campbell in heavy make up.

He wouldn’t have even considered it possible if it hadn’t been for Boris. He had to admit, the idea of the wolf being a person in a costume was dubious at best, given the proportions of the thing. He had even seen it consume some bacon soup at one point without any noticeable difficulty. It really was like the character had just walked right off of the silver screen.

Grant returned to his papers, trying to shove the thoughts out of his mind, but every new string of numbers that failed to add up brought the thoughts up again. The very notion of letting Joey do God only knows what to him to make him into a cartoon spider was both ridiculous and even vaguely offensive. But Boris had looked... content. Happy, even.

And if he went through with it, the debt wouldn’t be on his shoulders anymore.

Grant shook his head and returned his gaze to his final, unwavering calculation.

$48,128 short. 

"All right, Mr. Drew, I’m here. Tell me where this leak is.” Thomas looked down the hallway with a wary expression, as if imagining what kind of issue lay at the end of it.

“Thomas! Glad to see you showed up. I was beginning to worry.“ Joey motioned for him to follow him, falling in stride with the shorter man.

“I said I’d show up, didn’t I?” Thomas gave a wary look at the pipes above them.

“Only after some strong negations.”

“I already told you. I want nothing to do with you or this damn machine of yours. You’re lucky I even accepted double for this.“

The conversation stopped as they entered the room in question, the broken ink pipe above them being nearly impossible to miss. While the flow had been shut down, there was still a sizeable amount of ink dripping down the glass and creating a huge puddle on the floor.

“Don’t you have that Franks kid here to clean this mess up? It’s going to be that much harder to fix these bolts when they’re covered in that godforsaken ink.”

“He’s... no longer with us, actually. You know how it is. Life gave him an opportunity he just couldn't pass up.”

“Mmph.” Thomas had already turned his attention away from Joey, instead setting down his toolbox and selecting a large wrench from the contents.

"And speaking of opportunity-“

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

“Are you positive?” There was a degree of playful to Joey’s voice, like he expected this response and was merely going through the steps. “You should at least find out what you’re passing up before declining.“

“Don’t need to know. I came here to fix a pipe, and that’s it. I told you, I want nothing to do with this place anymore. There’s something wrong with all of this.”

“I see. Well, if you’ve made up your mind there’s not much I can do about it. Meet me in the Ink Machine room when you’re done and I’ll give you your payment.”

“Isn’t that Grant’s job?“

“Grant... also left us. There were some issues with our budget.“

Thomas narrowed his eyes, but didn’t pursue the topic further, instead focusing his attention on the pipe as Joey left the room. Two hours later, the excess ink had been cleared away and the pipe was once against securely fastened together. He threw the wrench back into the toolbox and begrudgingly made his way to the Ink Machine.

Inside the room were about fifty or so employees, all wearing Bendy masks.

“What the hell-?” Thomas turned back the door, but a few of the masked people had already moved in front of it, effectively blocking him in. Joey walked forward from the rest of the group and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him.

“Why don’t we talk about that offer again, Barley?”

“You want me to be makin’.... clothes?”

“Clothes and everything else on that list. Think you can manage?“

Shawn squinted down at the piece of paper in his hand. “I’m not sure. I’ve never made anythin’ other than the dolls.”

“It’s the same basic principal. Just mold the ink into whatever you need and the rest will happen automatically.”

“I suppose I can manage. But why do you need these thingamabobs?”

“I only have one set of clothes for each cartoon. Unfortunately, belief isn’t going to do anyone’s laundry,” Joey said, chuckling.

“And the weapons?”

“I can’t say too much yet. Strictly hush-hush. But... let’s just say there are some new creations that will be very happy to have them.”

Shawn gave him a questioning look, but simply turned his attention back to the paper. “When do you be needin’ these by?”

“Two days.”

“I can’t make them that fast! Today’s almost over, and even if I pull the entire shift tomorrow I still won’t be able to produce this much that quickly-”

“Nonsense! I made all of our friends in less time than that, and they’re actually alive.” Joey snapped his fingers. “You could do it if you had some proper motivation, I bet! See what dreams are really made of. You haven’t personally met any of the characters, have you?”

The trip to the archives resulted in nothing but ink and a few curious stares from other employees. Shawn picked up a bacon soup can off of a shelf and turned it over as Joey searched the area, already loosing his patience. “How do you lose your own cartoons?”

“They’re allowed to move around,” Joey called out, voice resonating from a different section. “I just didn’t expect them to move around this much.“

Shawn looked around the room, clearly impatient. “Well if you don’t have anythin’ to be showin’ me, I’m going to head back up to the-”

Something brushed his neck.

Shawn swore loudly and fell back in shock, clutching his neck. A giant spider was dangling on a black string before him, staring at him with pie-cut eyes. Venom dripped steadily from its pure white fangs, leaving a dark spot on the floorboards. Above him was a massive spider web, black strands strung across the edges of the room.

“See? I knew they were around here!” Joey smacked the toy maker on his back and Shawn jumped again, unaware that he had returned from wherever he had disappeared to. The spider turned and climbed back up the silk strand the way a person climbing up a rope would, perching on top of the far bookshelf.

“The- the bastard just tried to bite me!” Shawn rubbed his neck, half expecting to feel puncture wounds there, but the skin was unbroken.

“Is that so?” Joey looked towards the spider and for a moment something dark flashed across his face, but it was gone just as quickly. “Well, they obviously aren’t completely perfect, but we can try to fix that later.”

“How in the seven hells did you make-?“

“Edgar! Have you seen Barley anywhere?” Joey called, ignoring the question entirely. Edgar didn’t speak, instead stretching a middle limb out to the right with a sickening cracking noise. Shawn briefly wondered if that hurt.

“This way!” Joey grabbed the toy maker and moved to the right, the Irishman twisting around to keep an eye on the spider. Edgar turned and crawled straight up the far wall, and Shawn could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a human hand at the end of one of his legs as he moved.

The room that Edgar had been pointing to turned out to be a massive storage room that had completely flooded with ink from a broken pipe. A makeshift dock had been assembled out of what appeared to be loose floorboards, and at the end of it sat a small sailor, smoking a pipe, fishing line deep in the ink. Shawn briefly wondered what exactly he was trying to catch.

“Barley!”

Barley glanced over at them, grunted, and then returned his gaze to the inky abyss before him. His eyepatch was gone, and in its place a human-like eye sat buried deep in an otherwise empty socket. Shawn felt a shudder of disgust run through his body.

“He’s not much for conversation,” Joey said apologetically, pulling Shawn away again. “But speaking of conversation...”

“What, the items again?” Shawn allowed Joey to pull him along, still trying to process what he had just seen. He had seen Alice and Boris when Joey had introduced them to the studio, but he had simply assumed that it was make up or some sort of animatron. But these things... they were definitely alive, and something about that fact made him feel uneasy.

“No, not the items.” Joey waved his hand dismissively, and Shawn got the feeling that it was never about the items to begin with. “Didn’t you notice anyone missing?“

Shawn racked his mind, trying to recall all of the Bendy shorts. “The... little leprechaun fellow?”

“Correct! It doesn’t feel right without Charley here, does it?”

“I don’t think it would be feelin’ any better with him.” Shawn glanced over at the library, half expecting to see Edgar crawling after him, but the room was still.

“Sure it would! You can’t have the Butcher Gang without all three of them. Otherwise you don’t even have a gang to begin with. And I think I’ve found the perfect candidate for him.”

“Candidate? What are you-?”

Something clicked.

“Joey? How did you make these cartoons again?” Shawn asked, moving back away from him, things slowly piecing themselves together in his mind.

“I told you. Belief!“

“And what else?” Sweat started to drip down his back as he remembered how many employees had ”quit” the company over the last few weeks.

Joey simply smiled, and Shawn ran.

Upstairs, a few dozen Bendy masks met him outside the elevator.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #joey drew #susie campbell #wally franks #grant cohen #thomas connor #shawn flynn #outdesign posts things #outdesign attempts to write #little something before chapter 4 comes out #joey is a silver tongued piece of shit: the story

[written-on-the-trees]

Silver Linings In Winter Clouds - Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fiction

Prompt: Nativity Play (very, very loosely)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2100 words (I know, okay, it got away from me)

Summary: High-school AU. Colson is almost one-hundred per-cent sure that there was no punishment worse than having to join the drama club for their Christmas play, even one of the other members is possibly the cutest girl he's ever seen...

Colson had thought he had experienced the worst of his school’s punishments for bad behavior, having been in detention almost every week since he could remember, but he had been wrong.

   So, so wrong.

   He stared in horror at the carnage unfolding in front of him, and wondered if the punishment for bailing on this punishment could really be any worse than what he was currently facing.

 Sure, he might get suspended or something…but he wasn’t really sure that was any worse than being forced to take part on the drama club’s Christmas play. His dad would absolutely flip his shit, but he’d be able to pick up some extra shifts at work, and he’d get out of the fucking nightmare that was this drama club bullshit.

 Colson was more than ready to take his chances, when Mr. Greene, the drama teacher, saw him frozen in the doorway to the practice room, and cheerfully called out to him:

   “Mr. Baker! So glad you could make it.”

   Too late to escape now.

   Unwilling to lose face by running (or even walking) away now everyone was looking at him, Colson curled his lip in disdain and stepped further into the room.

 He wasn’t a coward.

 Disgusted by all this theatre shit, but not a coward.

 It was exactly the kind of attitude they were expecting from him, so it wasn’t long before they were all going back to focusing on that they had been doing before Mr. Greene had drawn everyone’s attention to him. Knowing Greene, it was probably a deliberate way of irritating Colson - the guy was just like that - but unfortunately that didn’t mean Colson could avoid him. Greene was the only one who could sign off on Colson’s report that documented him actually being here…and he was also the only one who could give Colson a job to do, because Colson sure as hell wasn’t taking any initiative with this shit.

 The less effort he could put in, the better. It was bad enough that people were going to think he was one of the drama nerds (albeit unwillingly), he refused to give anyone even an inkling that he was enjoying or being proactive about being part of this.

 As it was, Greene sent him over to work with the group of kids working on the scenery, muttering something about putting his height to good use. Colson had never been so grateful to be a lanky motherfucker as he was right then, walking over to where four girls and two guys were leant over various bits of paper, arguing between themselves.

   “Hey…apparently I’m meant to be helping out over here.” Colson announced to get their attention, watching as all six of them looked up from the paper and had six different reactions.

   Brendan, always the drama queen, threw his hands up and stormed away while muttering about not wanting to deal with ‘the white trash kid in detention’. His twin sister, Ellie, smiled apologetically and went after him to calm him down. Willow looked a little nervous, which was understandable since the last time she’d seen him he had been kicking the shit out of her older brother. Cameron beamed friendlily and welcomed him to the team. Darren just smiled.

 And then there was Belle.

 Colson had to stop himself from staring as she smiled at him, the soft, somehow glowing expression one he’d never had directed at him before.

 She looked so gorgeous, standing there in her black denim dungarees and white t-shirt with the small splotch of pink paint on the shoulder and with the paint and ink stains on her hands, Colson felt like he almost swallowed his own tongue. She just looked so…soft, so sweet, like some kind of paint-stained Christmas angel.

 He was instantly in love with her.

   I’m so screwed…

      Being in regular contact with Belle was doing nothing to stop Colson feeling like he was doomed – because if their first meeting had been difficult, with Colson feeling like he was tripping over his words every time he spoke to her (although thankfully she seemed not to have notices his sudden incompetence when it came to speech), then the second was basically excruciating.

 The thing was, Belle was nice.

 Genuinely, altruistically, nice.

 Unlike Brendan, who sneered at Colson every time he spoke, or Willow and Darren who were still a bit jumpy around him, Belle always took time to not just say hello when he showed up, but actually ask how his day had been and then listen when he responded - however flippant his responses were.

 She laughed at his jokes, and shut Darren up when Colson saw a bit of scenery design so blatantly stupid he had to suggest it be changed - because even if he was going to be part of this fiasco, he wasn’t going to have his name associated with anything so dumb as the fake graffiti Brendan had drawn on the plans.

 Modern take on the Christmas Nativity scene or not, there was no need for that bullshit.

   Colson hadn’t really expected anyone to take his side, even when he explained why he didn’t like it, but then Belle had nodded and said: “That’s a fair point - what would you suggest we do instead?”

 “Like, speak to someone who maybe knows how to do that graffiti shit?” Colson asked.

 “I’m sure you have a whole list of degenerate friends to recommend - ” Brendan sneered, but Belle cut him off:

 “Great idea, Colson. I know exactly who to ask.”

      On the day of their third meeting, Belle walked into the room five minutes later than Colson, with a familiar face trailing after her.

 Dom was a kind-of friend of Colson’s in the same way he was a kind-of friend with everyone in this school; he just had one of those personalities. He went to the same parties as Colson and his friends, wrote stories that had him in good standing with the English Lit kids, and apparently spent a lot of his art classes working next to Belle.

 He also was well known for creating various pieces of artwork all over any walls he got get to without being seen. His fingers were constantly stained with spray paint.

   Colson was a little bit surprised to see him, but still happy to chat while the others were distracted: “Hey man, I didn’t know you got involved with this shit.”

 “I don’t, normally. Mr. Greene hates me.” Dom laughed loudly - and drawing a furious expression out of Greene: “But Belle’s sound, and she asked me to ‘consult’, so here I am.”

   Colson shouldn’t be surprised that other people thought Belle was a good person - or ‘sound’ as Dom put it - and, when he thought about it, he wasn’t.

 He just surprised at how in love he was with her after just two meetings.

   I’m so unbelievably screwed…

      After a week of planning sessions, Belle took Colson to the art cupboard to help her gather supplies for painting the scenery Willow and Cameron were currently drawing out back on the stage of the school theatre.

 He wasn’t much use; standing outside with a big cardboard box in his arms while Belle actually found everything they had been sent out to go and get, but Belle didn’t seem to mind all that much…

   “I’m just so glad I don’t have to lug it all back by myself, or with Darren.” she confided in him while putting some pots of brightly coloured paint in the box he was holding: “Don’t tell him I said it, but you’ve got a lot more muscles than he does.”

 Colson knew she was only being friendly…but that didn’t stop him from winking at her: “Thanks, I worked hard for them.”

 “And they’re very nice, too.” Belle laughed, clearly taking his response as a joke…but Colson didn’t mind her missing him flirting with her.

   He’d seen her looking at his arms.

 She hadn’t just been teasing.

 Colson wasn’t the only one

      On opening night, Colson was hanging out backstage, leaning against a wall and waiting for his cue to help move the scenery about on stage. They had to keep it down, as to not be heard over ‘Marine’ and ‘Joey’ dramatically bemoaning that there was no room at the inn – in rhyming couplets (Colson was seriously glad he hadn’t been put with the kids writing the script for this punishment, he might have actually punched someone), but it was still…alright.

 Brendan was still a dick, obviously, but Willow had warmed up enough to offer him some sour patch kids from the bag she, Ellie, Belle, and Cameron were sharing (which was more than she’d offered Brendan - which Colson was taking as a major win), and Belle was leaning against the wall next to him, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black button-down shirt like the rest of them, with her chocolate-coloured hair smoothed into a sleek twist, and her skin free of paint.

 Honestly, Colson kind of missed the paint stains…but he had to admit he wasn’t ungrateful to be seeing the smokey eyeshadow and deep red lipstick she’d put on for when they went out on stage to take their bow after the play was over.

 After a month of spending anywhere between one and three hours a day with her, Colson could safely say he’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted Belle.

 She was…indescribable. Literally; he didn’t have all the words to describe her properly, and Colson prided himself on being eloquent. He adored everything about her: from the fact she was constantly sketching in a notebook just as he always had scraps of paper to write down anything he thought might sound good in a song, the way she was quick to laugh and even quicker to smile, and the fact that she was always willing to give someone a chance, no matter how disdainful they were when she met them.

 Yeah, he was talking about himself.

 Belle had been nice to him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when, to make sure everyone knew he was no coward, he’d acted like a dick.

 Well, Colson still wasn’t a coward…so tonight, after they’d all taken their bow and shit, he was going to ask Belle if she wanted to go out with him at some point over the Christmas break. Just the thought was terrifying, but if she noticed anything, she was kind enough not to mention it as they waited around backstage, or as they moved scenery as required, or when they went out and took their bow with the script writers, the kid who’d done the lighting and sound effects, the kids who’d make the costumes.

 She just…carried on making normal conversation, and didn’t seem to mind when Colson’s responses were a little halting and disjointed. She didn’t even say anything when they were heading out of the back of the auditorium after most of the audience had left, and Colson was trailing after her, feeling a little like a lost puppy…

 He felt like an idiot, so when she paused just before she was about to say goodbye, Colson blurted out:

   “Hey, Belle, I know we probably won’t be seeing each other much now my detention in theatre club is over, since if I stick around I might get kicked out for finally punching Brendan like he deserves, but I was wondering if…maybe you wanted to go out over winter break? Like, on a date?”

 Belle looked surprised for a few seconds, and Colson’s heart dropped…but then she grinned, fishing a pen out of her pocket and scrawling her number on the back of his hand, before leaning up to press her lips against his cheek: “I’d love to. Text me to work something out?”

 “I’d love to…” Colson echoed, feeling a little dazed from the kiss…but still overjoyed.

   Belle laughed gently, before ducking out when someone called for her.

 Colson waited a few seconds in the room, probably smiling like an idiot, before heading out too.

   Slim and Rook were waiting for him just outside the doors, the grins on the faces confirming that they had heard everything Colson and Belle had said, with Slim greeting Colson with a congratulatory grin: “So, bro, how do we sign up next year? I’m thinking I need a way to find me a hot girl…”

#The Trees' Christmas 2020 Writing Collection #The Trees Writes #Machine Gun Kelly imagine #Machine Gun Kelly fanfic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fic #Machine Gun Kelly fan fiction #MGK imagine #MGK fanfic #MGK fan fic #MGK fan fiction #Colson Baker imagine #Colson Baker fanfic #colson baker fan fic #Colson Baker fan fiction

[kaysreadingarchive]

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: Part 1

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, slightly John Seed x Reader x Joseph Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, mention of character death, guns, mention of violence

 Word Count: 2,952

A/N: Some of you may be asking if I'm abandoning my other work. I am not. I will continue to write for both of my stories I just came up with another idea for Far Cry 5. It's still an omegaverse story because I will forever be obsessed with this au. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, this is sort of a birthday present to me and I felt like we need more things to enjoy now that the world is going to hell and we honestly don't know what's going to happen.Thank you guys so much for being this patient with me and my numerous schemes. It means the world to me! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. I also really want to know what your theories are for the coming story. I always love reading your guys' analyses.

Masterlist     Omegaverse rules ---------------------------

When people imagined small-town America, they would instantly think of a tiny general store, maybe a white church. Large pastures that held grazing cattle. Hope County was the very definition of small-town America. It had a tight-knit community filled with very unique characters. Doomsday preppers, anarchists, and conspiracy theorists. It didn’t take long to notice these people. The County was full of them. You knew the moment you stepped into The Hope County’s Sheriff’s Department that things were different in your little piece of Montana.

You grew up in Fall’s End. Your parents lived here, hell, your father was even a Deputy. Your mother ran the Spread Eagle with a close friend Irene Fairgrave. Your childhood was filled with tales from your father. It was mainly him stopping the bad guy and saving the day. You and your mother both knew most of them were fake. Nothing ever happened in the sleepy town of Fall’s End.

The only bad thing that seemed to happened was your mother’s illness. It came in October as simple fatigue. She grew tired more often and she felt pain in her shoulder. The pain got worse as time went on and Aunt Irene finally took her to see a doctor, it was too late. She waited too long. She had stage-4 Chondrosarcoma, bone cancer. They tried chemo but it didn’t take well and she passed away the next summer. Your father wasn’t far behind to say it better. He had a fatal heart attack and died in the hospital.

You were only eleven when this happened. You understood what happened but your growing mind still didn’t understand that they weren’t coming back. You watched them get buried together, but you still held up hope it was a lie. A sick joke. You had nowhere to go so one of your dad’s coworkers adopted you. Earl Whitehorse was roughly in his early forties and all his children had moved out. He bought everything new for your bedroom in his ranch house. You had taken to calling him pop-pop. He really felt like a grandfather to you and he raised you as if you were his own.

When you graduated high school, you knew what you wanted to do. You wanted to be a deputy like your dad. You wanted to make him proud even if he wasn’t here. When you went to the academy outside the county you felt off. All these hotshots in your class made you feel weak. You felt like they pointed and laughed as you walked by. Look at the country bumpkin! There’s no fucking way a farmer could be a police officer! You hated your time at the academy. It felt like no one was on your side.

When you finally graduated it felt like you were on top of the world. Pop-pop came to see you and both of you celebrated by having wings and a beer at the Spread Eagle. Nothing had made you happier when you got your uniform and badge. Rook was proudly displayed on a silver name tag and Staci Pratt became your partner. Staci mainly dragged you everywhere he went, you had no say in the matter.

You got comfortable being his partner. Everyone seemed nice. Especially Joey Hudson who invited you to drinks the moment you closed the door behind you. Her partner, Danny was odd. He seemed very religious, always had a crucifix around his neck. He was very into playing bible music in his joint office. Nancy seemed very motherly. She made a routine of bringing doughnuts into work from a bakery in town. You absolutely loved her for it. You were the first one in the break room as soon as you saw her minivan park.

You shared a tiny office with Staci and he was a mess. His paperwork was scattered everywhere and he always left his empty monster cans on the floor. Other than that, he was only an asshole 70% of the time.

----

Today was a very slow day compared to most days. There was no paperwork to file nor did you feel like sorting the archives for the fifth time. You sat at your desk, playing with a wad of paper. Stacy sat at his desk downing another energy drink while his hands could barely function from the other sugar. It was absolutely silent as you went about your day. Nancy had come in that day with donuts and they were gone, so you couldn’t really eat your boredom away like you usually would. Something felt odd about the silence. It made your insides flutter and sweat began to drip from your (h/c) hair.

Something definitely felt wrong about today. Was there gonna be a big robbery or shoot out? Nah, those things never fucking happen here. A sudden knock on the door startled you from your thoughts. Joey peeked her head through the crack and gave you a smile and then looked over to Staci. He didn’t seem to notice her, stuck in his own world like usual. “Staci!” Joey suddenly yelled. He flinched and dropped his can to the floor. The green liquid spilled out onto linoleum.

“What the fuck Joey!” Staci just looked annoyed as he looked at the now spilled drink. Some of it soaked into his green uniform and pants. Joey held back a snicker as Staci reached for the tissues on his desk as his cheeks flushed red. You had to look away before you burst out laughing.

“Don’t be a damn baby, Staci. Clean yourself up and come meet me and (Y/N) in the lobby. These three weirdos came in asking for a permit to carry and Whitehorse isn’t happy.” Joey looked at you from the doorway and waved you over. You followed behind her down the small hallway and she opened the door to the tiny lobby. You could hear the yelling already. It sounded like Pops and a random male voice.

Pops never really got angry. He had control over his nonexistent temper. If he was really going at it, whoever this guy is must be a prick. There was indeed three weird-looking strangers arguing over the dispatcher desk. Nacy could do nothing but go back and forth between Whitehorse and a wealthy-looking man. His blue eyes were slitts and his beard covered lips were pulled back in a scowl. A handgun was placed on the desk with the safety on.

Two other men stood beside them. One had his hair pulled back into a man bun like a fucking hipster and his lips were pulled into an uneasy smile. The other sent a shiver down your spine and not a good one. He made you feel uneasy as his blue eyes roamed over you and Joey. His red hair was brushed to the side and he too had a full beard. What were these guys? Millennials? The redhead continued to watch you two as you made your way beside Pops, their conversation stopping for a brief second.

Whitehorse took a deep breath in and closed his eyes for just a moment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t validate your permit without a criminal records background.”

The irritated looking of the three narrowed his eyes even more than before. He opened his big mouth but the man-bun stopped him. “I’m so sorry about this sir. My brothers and I just moved here from Georgia and we’re still new to these parts, please forgive us for our rudeness.” The man slowly let go of his brother’s shoulder and pulled out a card.

“This has my phone number and name, I’ll have someone be in contact with you about John’s criminal records background.” He handed the business card to Nancy who looked at it with an odd expression on her face. “God bless you.” All three of them walked out without another word, But the red-haired brother gave you one last look before getting into the white truck outside.

“Do those three give you the creeps or what?” Joey commented as she took the business card from Nancy. She scanned over the info and passed it to you. Joseph Seed, an odd name. His cell-phone number was underneath but what was weird was the symbol in the corner. It stood out with black ink against the white paper. It looked like a cross and a name was underneath it. “The Project at Eden’s Gate, huh.” The name sounded odd on your tongue. It felt uneasy to you. Anxiety began to build in your system at what these men could possibly be.

You had never seen those three before or heard of them. They must have just moved. “Did you say the Project at Eden’s Gate? I know those guys, they bought a run-down church near the Henbane. They call it, “Eden’s Convent”. Don’t know what they want with that piece of shit but they seem to keep to themselves.” Staci’s voice pierced through the silence as he walked in, still dabbing the energy drink on his pants.

Pops said nothing as he lifted his hat and gave his head a scratch in thought. “Whatever they want, they’re gonna have to do it legally. Nacy, keep an eye on those three for me. They’re gonna go snoopin’.” It took you good second to realize he was talking about Stacy, Joey, and you and not the three stooges that walked out minutes ago. What the fuck? Did he not trust you or something? It made you kinda upset to hear someone you looked up to for so long say that. Especially when it was your adopted grandpa.

The anxiety from before slipped away as you forgot about the three brothers as the day went on. It didn’t feel like your own thoughts were torturing you for once. You got a good night’s sleep without any nightmares to scare you awake, but there was still this tugging in your chest. No matter how much you tried to clear your head, it didn’t go away. It felt like something bad was going to happen. Like, really bad.

------

A week went by before the feeling returned. Pops had just pulled into the parking lot when it felt like a stab to the gut. A little voice inside your head was begging you to turn around, but you just ignored it. When you finally got to your desk you locked it away in the deepest part of you mind and filled your fear with a cream-filled doughnut and a cup of coffee.

You slumped into your chair, staring at the computer screen as it took forever to boot up. It felt like it was mocking you by making your day worse. You would look up every once and a while from the screen to the window. Half expecting someone to be there. Only there wasn’t, just fields and cows. Before you knew it, it felt like tie was passing at the speed of light. 8 A.M. became 10.

“-N)... (Y/N)! You awoke with a yelp and glared at Staci. He hastily took his hand away, as if you were going to bite his fingers off. You had considered it many times, with him being such a fucking asshole. There deserved to be less of him.

“What Staci? What the fuck do you want?” You rubbed the sleep away from your eyes as you stretched your legs in your uncomfortable chair. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. Staring at absolutely nothing was hard work.

“The old man wants us to check out a disturbance at the Spread Eagle. One of the guys from a week ago is harassing everyone.” This was a shock to you. Pops didn’t send you and Staci on any calls before. He says he didn’t trust Staci enough to do his job, but since you were just a Junior Deputy, you couldn’t do it by yourself.

“What about Joey and Danny?” Weren’t they capable enough to do this? Joey was good at her job, but Danny was a different story.

“They’re on another call.” You only nodded and gathered your stuff. You put a can off pepper spray into your belt. You couldn’t have a gun, but Staci could. You had wondered what idiot gave him the approval to carry a deadly weapon. You had wished in the past that whoever they were, they were in jail for giving out false permits.

“Alright, let’s go.” You both walked out of the station and made the small walk to the Spread Eagle. Staci opened the door and the bell rang. Both Mary May and one of the brothers, the rich looking one, turned towards both of you. Mary May looked pissed and the Seed brother only smirked when he saw you two walk in.

“Really, Mary? You called the police on me? Haven’t I’ve been a decent customer?” His tone was cocky as he sat back in one of the stools. His expensive-looking coat was tossed over the bar and his tattooed hands were gripping onto a stack of contracts. His hands crumpled the papers as his smirk widened. His mouth said one thing but his eyes said another. He looked like an absolute asshat. A spoiled baby. It made sense now, this little shit wanted a fucking audience. He was a god damn performer.

He gave you an uneasy feeling just like his redheaded brother. But it wasn’t from being uncomfortable, it was the feeling of dread. Like he could crush your puny existence with the snap of his well-manicured fingers.

“My normal customers don’t threaten me! You’re not getting this fucking bar, John. Now, why don’t you hightail it out of my town before Widowmaker runs your ass over.” Mary May wasn’t someone to mess with especially when she had her mom’s temper. Maybe that’s why Irene and your mom got along so well.

Both of them had pictures on the counters behind the bar. A vase of fresh daisies was next to them. When you saw the picture, it felt like she was still here protecting you. Like a guardian angel.

When you were trash as a deputy, you thought of your dad. He would be so proud of you, you just knew he was with mom. Where ever they were, they were happy. It still felt so fresh and to have someone like John Seed try to tear that away from you made you feel as angry as Mary May.

“Let’s not get too hasty. How about I add another zero to the offer?” John pulled out a checkbook from his pocket and started to write. Your eyes started to get wider as the number got bigger. This guy must have been loaded. Great, a rich and spoiled scumbag.

You also noticed the symbol from before, the cross, was on the checks. But, instead of the name John Seed, John Duncan was printed on them instead. What the fuck was going on? It felt like a big conspiracy theory was unraveling and you had to know the truth.

The name Seed was something that made you feel sick. It sent shivers down your spine and your forehead broke out into cold sweats. It felt like you were doubting yourself when you heard the name. Like was a lie. It made your anxiety flare up again and it constricted your lungs. Were you going to have an anxiety attack in the middle of a call? Just your fucking luck.

“For the last time, I don’t want your fucking money!” Mary May hiss and brought a pistol out from under the bar and sat it right on his papers. John’s brown hair stood up on the back of his neck. He glared down at the contracts and brought the papers up to Mary’s eye level as he ripped them clean down the middle. He stood up from the stool, grabbing his coat jacket and stuffed the pieces into his pocket.

A voice yelled from above as the sound of boots stomping on wooden stairs echoed in the now silent bar “Get out of my bar, Seed. Go home and cry to Joe and Jake and tell them Gary said fuck off.” Gary Fairgrave walked down from the apartment above the bar, a shotgun in hand. He pointed it right at John. His nose flared out in rage as he stepped back out of Gary’s line of fire.

His blue eyes seemed to switch to something darker, something red. You blinked and the red was gone. His eyes were blue once again but filled with more anger than you’ve ever seen in a person. His neck took on a deep shade of pink that worked its way up to his cheeks. It looked like he was gonna pop a blood vessel.

“Woah, we don’t need anyone dying here.” You finally stepped in while Staci stood there with his mouth hung open. John looked over to you and his blue eyes softened just a bit before going back to glaring at Gary.

“You’ll regret this Fairgrave.” John stomped to the door and slammed it shut behind him, almost breaking it off the hinges. His threat sounded real. Not like the bluff most people gave. It wasn’t an empty threat. You just didn’t know him at all, you couldn’t tell if he would act on it. As if you didn’t find him creepy enough, he was making googly eyes at you. And the red eyes didn’t help either. You tried to tell yourself it was just a trick of the light. Like a camera flash.

But deep down you knew it wasn’t a light trick. This was real and it already felt like hell.

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