#just wish we could see the footage after they played cars when they played uh with each other

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH 

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands. 

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything. 

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed. 

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet. 

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied. 

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible. 

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted. 

“As you wish princess.” 

...(The Next Day)

   You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents. 

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back. 

“Hey Y/N...” 

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive. 

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair. 

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.” 

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe. 

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you. 

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!” 

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever. 

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website. 

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way. 

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan. 

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

#slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #imagines #slashers x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #ghostface imagines #billy x reader x stu #scream imagines #billy loomis imagines #stu macher imagines #horror imagines #poly ghostface

[beomglocks]

friendly neighborhood spiderman ; hk

warnings & other: fluff, spiderman!hyuka, normal person!reader, best friend!kai, reader doesnt know kai is spiderman, he looks so good in that gif i cant move on

"what do you mean you can't hang out today? we always binge-watch power rangers on fridays."

you should've known it would come to this point but hueningkai bailing on you on your sacred days? completely unfathomable. he chuckles nervously and you watch him stumble over his words. "well there's always tomorrow?" he says, unsure of himself.

you were used to kai skimping out on you. if anything, it became somewhat of a normal occurrence. he would often randomly announce that something had come up and before you could even question him about it, he was gone. practically vanishing into thin air, you've grown used to his sudden disappearances. he would always come back as if nothing happened but with random scratches or bruises all over him.

for this, you took up the job of providing his aftercare. during these sessions in your dingy bathroom, you both would sit in silence for a couple of minutes. after the silence became too much to bear, you would speak up and ask him what happened or why he suddenly looked beat to a pulp. he would never tell you the real reason so you came to the conclusion that he was hiding something from you.

what that something was, was still a mystery to you.

he had to be hiding something from you. kai rarely ever got into fights. even at your college, where the majority of the student body were complete dickheads, he would keep to himself. on the off chance that someone ever wanted to start something, they would simply get intimidated by kai's height.

he sighs exasperatedly, "look y/n, just- it's just that th-."

"this is super duper important and you just don't have to means to skip out on it, i know i know," you reiterate his mantra like a drone. it's the same excuse every time.

he pats your head lovingly and you shake your head to brush his hand off. "whatever dude, just don't be mad when im 50 episodes deep and won't wanna go back for you." he laughs, rolling his eyes playfully, "you always go back for me."

you stick your tongue out at him as you watch him run out of your apartment.

you sigh, walking back to your living room and throwing yourself down on the couch. the silence in your apartment is deafening and unfortunately, kai is no longer here to fill the empty space. you frown, curling into yourself on your couch while switching back to the normal tv and flipping through channels.

you've always liked hueningkai. he was someone you've cherished since freshman year of high school. back then he was just some skinny kid who could barely hold his own. you had been the one to come up to him and befriend him but as it turns out he grew up.

you never thought you'd catch feelings for him but all of a sudden he had grown taller than you and his voice was an octave deeper than the cute, screeching boy you had first encountered.

you kept your feelings hidden well so far since you didn't know how kai would react. he wasn't really the type to have girls fawn over him but once arriving to college, almost everyone wanted him. it made you feel a bit self conscious considering he was this tall, ridiculously handsome guy and you were well...you.

you sigh once again. you hoped he wasn't ditching you to hang out with some college girl or go to some college party. maybe that's why he would come back home bruised up, going to some college party and doing some crazy shit there.

you pause your flipping through channels when you catch a glimpse of a guy in a red and black suit on your tv screen.

spiderman. you smile when you see him on your screen. you're lucky to have been born in the same era as a superhero. you've only ever really read about them in comics or seen cartoons of them but to live during the same time as one was something else.

it seemed as if there were new supervillains every other day but spiderman would always swoop in and save the day.

"there goes that spider menace again. he probably set up the whole situation just to make himself look good in the eyes of the public," james jonah jameson, the tv announcer, states.

"im telling you all! how can you trust a guy who's going around the city swinging on webs, fighting bad guys, and calling himself the spiderman?! he's the real villain!" some shaky cam footage of spiderman freely swinging through the city is played on screen and you smile at how carefree he looks. he keeps swinging until he reaches the main source of the situation and the footage switches to the news camera crew's line of sight.

they seem to be pretty close to the action and your breath hitches at who the villain who decided to show himself today is. sandman, and he looks pissed. he's throwing around stray cars and shooting sand at everything in his path. "where's spiderman!" he roars.

spiderman gracefully lands on his two feet right behind sandman. "you rang?" he jokes casually. sandman spins around wildly and wastes no time hurling some sand at the hero. spiderman narrowly avoids this but steadies himself for a serious fight.

you watch in awe at how cool spiderman looks while fighting. he looks so elegant as if he's dancing. the fight goes on for about 5 minutes and in those 5 minutes, both parties get beat pretty bad. spiderman who can barely stand straight is panting heavily since he just got up from being thrown into a wall.

sandman goes in for a couple more punches, some he misses however he gets some good ones in. "getting tired spidey?" sandman taunts. "you wish," spiderman croaks out. you watch him look around and luckily there's a fire truck near them.

spiderman uses his webs to bring the fire hose to him and you watch him use his last bit of strength to pull the latch that lets all the water out. sandman doesn't get the chance to dodge this and is effectively hit with the powerful blast of water from the hose.

the camera pans to sandman who is now on the floor, slipping away through the cracks towards the sewer. they then pan back to the wall where spiderman was leaning against but he's no longer there.

"ah another day, another win for our friendly neighborhood spiderman!" the tv hostess on the scene says. you sigh as the broadcast cuts back to james jameson spewing more slander on spiderman's name. "i hope he's ok, he looked pretty beat up," you say to no one in particular.

just then you hear a thump on your window. you live on the 12th floor of your building so realistically nothing should be hitting your window unless there are birds but it's a little late for them to be out and about. you cautiously walk over to your window and you see someones back? someone's back?

you unlatch your window and let it flip open. the person jumps up on your window sill in alarm, but once he sees you he calms down and throws himself onto your floor in exhaustion. you stand there in shock at who is on your living room floor right now. "spiderman?" you gasp. he groans out a reply but you don't care. spiderman is in your house right now! "i literally just saw you on tv! you were like so cool out ther-" you cut yourself off when you hear him breathing heavily.

"oh- oh my god ok uh-" you lift him up as best as you can and wrap his arm around your shoulder. spiderman hasn't passed out just yet so he uses a bit of his strength so that it's not a chore to drag him to your bathroom.

once you manage to drag him to your bathroom he throws himself onto the sink edge and leans back on your mirror with a sigh. "i can't believe you're in my house right now," you randomly blurt. he nods but says nothing as he points to his abdomen. "help," he grunts. you immediately go to the first aid kit that's always kept on deck since you're always patching up hueningkai.

he grabs the hem of his suit and lifts it up, displaying his torso. "woah," you instinctively cover your eyes thinking he was about to undress or something. you hear him chuckle softly. "relax."

when you lower your hands you see the nastiest scar on his lower stomach and you try not to stare too hard thinking it may offend him. "help me clean it please," he mumbles in pain. "i know i have healing powers or whatever but it's not gonna kick in rapidly unless i do some of the work myself."

you stare at spiderman in disbelief. "uh- i mean of course. i'd love to help, spiderman." he chuckles again at your eagerness, finding it cute.

"how'd you get to my window sill?" you say before you can think. you immedeintly slap your hand over your mouth, not wanting to offend him somehow. he coughs somewhat awkwardly while looking around your bathroom.

"i- i mean the lights were on, the building was close...just a coincidence i guess?" he stammers through his sentence and rubs the back of his head. you bring your eyebrows together in confusion, "but i don't live that cl-" he cuts you off by grabbing his abdomen in pain.

"oh- OW! just please help," he wails.

you both sit in silence after that while you help patch him up and you get major deja vu except, instead of patching kai up you're patching up spiderman. you laugh at yourself and spiderman perks up. "what's so funny?"

"nothing it's just... i always go through this same routine with my best friend hueningkai," you say. spiderman nods off, "your best friend hueningkai?" you hum a confirmation, "yeah he's always running off and getting himself into trouble. i'm like his personal nurse."

spiderman leans back on your mirror again and you assume he's going to doze off or rest while you clean his wound but he speaks up again, "what's this hueningkai like?"

"he's really sweet. the sweetest boy i've ever met. he's a really good friend to me but i guess he's growing up, it feels like he doesn't need me anymore. he's always bailing on me to probably hang out with his cooler friends or something." you sigh and when the silence rings in your ears you realize you just rambled about your friend to a superhero.

"oh god im sorry i d-" spiderman shifts in his spot and let's out a breath. "maybe he's just busy? he's probably got a lot on his shoulders." you pout, dabbing the cotton ball onto the wound gently.

"i just- look i really like kai, like more than a friend. how am i supposed to get closer to him if he's always running off doing whatever!”

spiderman sits up straight in his spot, “you like me more than a friend?!” you look at him confused since you didn’t exactly catch what he said. “huh?”

“uh- i mean... well maybe he also sees you as more than a friend too, you never know,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“maybe..” you trail off uncertainty.

after you finish patching spiderman up he jumps off the counter and stretches his limbs. “wow i feel better already. you’re amazing,” he compliments. you hide your face in your hands shyly but smile up at him.

“it must be difficult saving the world from bad guys huh,” you joke. he nods, groaning tiredly, “you have no idea.”

you see him look over at your tv but since he’s wearing his mask you can’t really tell what his expression is or what he might be thinking. “right, you said you saw me on tv,” he chuckles.

“well thank you y/n for helping me get better, im sure i’ll be fine by tomorrow morning but for now ive gotta head back to shield to report what happened. you know superhero stuff,” he gloats.

you nod at him, amazed by how hard working he is but you look at him bewildered for the 3rd time today. “how did you know my name?”

he looks around frantically and scratches his head, “that cup over there says it!” sure enough when you look over, there’s a cup with your name printed on it. it happened to be a cup gifted to you from hueningkai last christmas.

you hear spiderman sigh, “well, gotta run! im positive i’ll be seeing you around.” he walks up to you and pats your head, something only kai is allowed to do but you let it slide for spiderman since he’s a superhero.

you follow him to your window where he prepares to jump out and swing back to shield. once he’s outside you yell out to him, “thank you spiderman!”

around three hours after spiderman left your apartment you hear your doorbell ring. they stopped playing the news about spiderman’s fight an hour ago so you decided to watch something else.

you groan dramatically, dragging yourself to your door. when you swing it open you see kai standing there with a smile on his face.

the drowsiness you previously had disappears when you see him. “oh my god kai you’ll never believe what happened to me!” you say excitedly. “hello to you too,” he laughs.

you drag him to your couch, “spiderman was here!” you shout. he raises his eyebrows at you, smiling wider. “wow really? was he cool?” you sigh dreamily, “he’s so cool kai.”

“wait you actually believe me?” you ask. he chuckles, looking away from you. “of course i believe you, why would you lie?”

you shrug, “i mean im not lying but if i was, i could’ve been lying to have you hang out with me more just in case i ever meet him again. you could meet him too.”

kai shakes his head, “y/n are you using spiderman as an excuse to get me to hang out with you more?” he laughs, “don’t worry i’ll hang out with you as much as i can.”

he pats your head again similarly to how he did earlier and you smile sadly, remembering spiderman’s words. hueningkai must be really busy and here he is promising to spend more time with you. this just makes you like and cherish him more.

you hug him tightly as a form of appreciation and he hugs you back with the same strength. when you pull away you look over his face and you’re about to say something when something catches your eye.

you lean in closer to his face and he inches back instinctively. “wha-“

“is that sand in your hair?”

#hueningkai imagines #hueningkai reactions #hueningkai drabbles #hueningkai drabble #hueningkai fluff #txt imagines #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #txt headcanons #hueningkai headcanons #txt reactions #txt scenarios #hueningkai timestamps #hueningkai fic #hueningkai x reader #fluff

[flyinglotus777]

Fleeting Lotus

An usually sunny day on September 22nd. Reminiscing on the great remembrance of the 21st night of September. Although the sky was clear, my thoughts were cloudy. 3 years had passed since the death of my mother and I celebrated how I celebrated any other anniversary in my life, with a pack of menthol cigarettes and a book to get lost in. The pick for the day was Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix. My mother and I shared a love for Harry Potter, she introduced me to the series. I had a strange feeling that judgement was coming to me swiftly much as it met our three estranged heroes.

A knock at the door.

“Los Angeles police, open up.” an assertive, but comforting voice commanded.

I open the door to be greeted by a beautiful detective James. First name unknown. She had a slicked back, long curly ponytail and eyes of warm chocolate. Her skin was sun kissed and I found her presence to be encapturing. I wonder what she wants with me.

“Good morning sir. I am detective James. I am aware that your girlfriend, Lauren, has been missing for a couple of days and I would like to ask you some questions.” Her eyes pierced at me with persistence. Her tone sounded as if she was asking a question, but I knew she would come again if I denied. Maybe with more reinforcement.

“Uh, sure. Come on in.” I shut the green door behind her and light a cigarette. If I am to be interrogated, I shall answer in smoke.

“Sir, can you put that out?” 

“No, but I’ll open a window for you. You can sit by it.” I turn on a fan and open a window. I open the blinds slightly to see the families laugh and play in the shallow, motel infested pool. What a bunch of turds, I laugh to myself. 

I grab a seat for the lady and one for myself next to the ashtray. I see her eyes wander in silent judgement and amazement of the room. 

“There you go, Ms. James. Now what can I help you with?”

“Your girlfriend, Lauren Alexander-”

“Ex. I don’t make love to the dead,” I chuckle.

“She has been missing for over five days. We are doing an investigation and asking all close friends and family members about her whereabouts and when they saw her last. Why do you say she is dead?” she asks unsteadily, gripping the upholstered arm chair.

“Well, five days missing in this city means you’ve been kidnapped or killed. Especially for women, I’m sure you know that all too well yourself ma’am. Besides, I am the one who called to inform the police of her absence.” I take a drag and relinquish the air and stress I had built up inside of me for the past few days. She eyed me up and down as I spoke, taking notice of my fully unbuttoned beige, roaring tiger print shirt to reveal my white Hanes undershirt matched with my khaki capris. I placed my leg over my ankle so maybe she would catch a glance of my Nike socks and birkenstock combination. I did dress myself today after all. Her eyes read suspicion, but somehow I could tell she was doubtful of me. 

“Well, I would just like to ask some questions and I will be on my way.”

“Ask away. How rude of me. I forgot to mention, my name is Jacob Whitmore. My friends call me Jakey, but they haven’t been calling me as much lately.” I took another drag. Nothing screams rise and shine like a nicotine coated menthol and sitting across from an upgraded police officer.

She shakes her head in disgust and despair. “Mr. Whitmore-”

‘Please, call me Jacob.”

A heavy breath followed by a restrained urge to eye roll left the detective. 

“No more interruptions please. Where were you on Thursday, September 18th?”

“Well let’s see.” I begin to close my eyes and play in my hair in an attempt to rush my memory to the present. I need more nicotine for this. “I remember waking up that morning in my downtown Los Angeles apartment, noisier than ever that morning. Lauren had made me her classic breakfast special: bland eggs with turkey bacon and 3 chocolate chip Eggos before rushing off to work. She worked multiple jobs. She walked dogs in the morning before heading off to her fabulous mansion tour of house cleaning. Demeaning, but rewarding as me and the bills always thanked her.  I had suspicions that she had been cheating on me. I found love letters in her pockets while doing the laundry. I was a stay at home while she took care of me in between jobs. I know, you don’t find too many of us house husbands,” I said, smirking at the unimpressed detective. 

“Anyways, I decided that day I was going to follow her. Do some investigating of my own. I could’ve asked her, but I wanted to see for my own eyes the poor bastard that she was playing. You see, she loved me. We were in love and inseparable. She would be playing this rascal, but still wishing the man sweetening her gears was me.” I lit another cigarette, thankful for the lotus shaped ashtray that contained a mountain of my remnants over these past few days.

“Self absorbed, maybe but that was the kind of love her and I shared.” A smile shot across my face uncontrollably. “To my great fortune, she was loyal. I watched her rip the gardening boy a new one as she proclaimed her love for me. Lauren had the mouth of a New Yorker with the face of an angel.” A chuckle escaped through my lips along with the smoke. “I was so happy I bought her roses, her favorites. Yellow bodies with pinked tipped petals. I bought her three bouquets and decided I was going to make her favorite, fettuccine alfredo. Then I was going to lay her down like I was a handyman and the Lord hand delivered me a golden pipe to fix all broken faucets in the city.” I ashed my cigarette and began to spiral as the next menthol met my lips. I could see the concern on the detective’s face as my demeanor began to colden. 

“I made her dinner. I cleaned the apartment. I lit candles on the table and on the counter. I wasn’t too big of a romantic, but I knew how to set the mood.” I chuckled as I hunched over in my chair, staring at the ground. My hands began to tremble. I abandoned my dear ashtray for the floor. “I called her five times in the first round, no response. The clock struck 5:30, and I knew that was the time she was usually getting onto the bus. Sometimes she had went to the gay bar on Melrose, the one with the illuminated turtle splashing into an ale of beer. That quacky place,” I begin to rub my head in distress. “But she texted me that she had a long day and would be coming home as soon as possible to run a bubble bath. I was going to fuck her in the tub too.” I place my hands in my head as I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, sucking them back into their place. The detective has been silent, but watching me in suspense like an audience member of a Shakespearan tragedy. 

“By 8 o’clock, I still had no response or sight of her. The candles were melting down to the stem and the alfredo might as well have been frozen. That’s when I made a call to the station.” I stepped on the menthol delight to extinguish it before lighting another. Only four left in the pack. Fuck. I hope this wasn’t going to take much longer.

The detective nodded and I noticed she was taking notes. She seemed very good at her job. “I have some more questions for you...Jacob” she ended her sentence hesitantly, but her soft tone comforted my damaged soul. She shifted in her seat to her legs being crossed as if she was finally finding comfort in her 1940s styled chair. “Now we visited some of her colleagues and friends who reported a similar story to you, minus some details. We have no leads, as we have already contacted the gardener who had matching alibis. The bar said she had not come in that day. We’re still recovering city footage of her traveling throughout the county.” I picked my head up to meet her eyes. My emerald eyes glisten as she asks, “why did you decide to rent out this motel room the night of September 18th?”

“Well, I couldn’t stay in the apartment knowing that something had happened. You see, today marks the anniversary of my mother’s death. She would come here often.” Detective James nodded as if she understood. 

“I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Would you all come to vacation here?”

“My mother was a hooker. She would bring male and occasionally female clients to this location.” I said nonchalantly as if I were telling a relic of an old friend. “My father abandoned us when I was freshly born and she needed some way to support me and my brother. When she couldn’t find someone to watch us she would have us sit in the parking lot. In the parked car of course. One night I came stumbling in to beg my mother  to take us home as the clock was striking midnight and the car felt like an overworked camel hump to sleep on. I didn’t know what she was doing at first, she would always say business. I thought she was like a wall street business shark working men for their hard earned cash. I was partially right. I remember hearing these weird, promiscuous noises screaming through the lotus flower tapered walls. That’s my favorite part about this place.” I said drawing our attention to the decorum. “The pink flowers draped on the walls. Lotus flowers are supposed to be a symbol of purity. My innocence was extracted from me that night.” I take a hard drag on my cigarette in pain of irony. The detective stared at me in awe and pity. Before she could speak, I continued on with my story.

“Something inside of me told me to stay out, but my 7 year old brain was too curious not to open the door to see my mother getting pounded like the whore she was. The man just smiled at me and asked if I wanted a turn. I turned around and ran away. I vowed to never bring it up or let my brother know.” I shake my head reliving the trauma and seeing my last cigarette. “She was a good woman. She took care of me and my brother and made sure we had more than what we needed. Lauren kinda reminded me of her. Now they’re both angels watching over me.”

Detective James watched the flame from the lighter and then proceeded to scribble down an additional note. She had a confusing look on her face as if she was missing a piece of the puzzle.

“You know,” she says softly. “It hasn’t been confirmed that Lauren is dead. She may still be alive.” 

I shrug, “I abandoned false hope long ago. Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms. James?”

She starts to gather her belongings, but pauses for a second as she spots my unzipped suitcase. I could tell the puzzle pieces in her brain were looking for the missing link. Before she can answer, I say “I’ll walk you out,” managing to produce a smile. I’m just happy to reup on Ms. Mary Menthol.

She nods with a smile to mirror mine. “That is all for today. Thank you for your time and I am sorry life has been unkind to you.” Her tone rang defeated. I’m unsure if she was more saddened by my life or the unsolved case. We shake hands and I turn to reach for the door. As my back is turned, the sly bitch kicks open my suitcase to reveal a half kilo of my delicious cocaine, a machete with dried blood painted on it, and hand written notes I had written for my sweet Lauren. The next thing I know, I turn around to a gun pointed in my direction and me being handcuffed. Just as I thought I was in the clear. The scene played like a slow motion, silent film.

You see the cops had been trailing my alias for years as I had developed an itch that only holding a dead female corpse could scratch. Fell for my act didn’t you? I was sure hoping detective James would. I played the role so well I deserve to host the next fucking emmys. You see I’m not a bad guy, just a tortured soul. I was going to marry Lauren, I really was. She discovered I had killed my mother and was horrified by my actions. She was never supposed to find out. That sweet little Sherlock went rummaging through my stuff one day innocently only to be greeted with the same murder weapon that matched the description of my mother’s murder weapon and soon to be hers. I was tormented by my own thoughts and other kids for my mother’s actions. Although her intentions were in good faith, they created a world wind of hell for me. I plotted the move since I was 16. I figured sure people could clown me for having a whore as a mother, but would they say the same if she was dead. Then that makes you a shitty person. Call my mental twisted, but you try walking in my shoes and telling me how the fuck you like those roses. I’m ritualistic in my attacks as to why I was planning on burning the evidence that night on the day of my mother’s death. I figured her soul would take care of it, but it seems as if it had a vendetta to avenge me. As for the cocaine, my only mistake was not head diving straight into the baby powder while sweet cheeks handcuffed me. I hope they sell menthols in prison... 

#murdermysteries #murder mystery #short story #creative #creativestory #creativestories #drama #fiction #mystery #janet

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Chapter 5

In case you missed any of the previous chapters, you can find the whole story (thus far) here

Thanks for reading!

****************************

The Duel

Several days had passed with no new leads. Amy and Hermione continued poring over the case files with Jake and Ron, while Boyle and Harry staked out the banks. No luck was had all around. They’d all take turns switching with Rosa, who was still mainly manning surveillance. Whoever Gerteso was, he was a master of disguise. 

They were on a late shift about a week into the case, when Rosa caught something on the monitor. “Jake! Come see this,” Rosa said. Jake walked over with Ron not far behind him. “There’s some strange activity going on outside of this oddity shop - McLeod’s. The guy who just walked in seems to match the description of Gerteso. It’s in Manhattan, but might be worth checking out?”

“If we leave now, we can make it over there in 20 minutes. C’mon Nolan, let’s go!” Jake said as they ran out. 

Hermione looked at Amy. “What are the chances he’ll stay in the store that long?”

Amy shook her head. “Slim to none.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione said. She had an idea, but it required magic, so she had to move alone. Harry gave her a look. “Just need to make a phone call,” she reassured him. 

Hermione made her way to the bathroom and pulled out her cell phone she’d purchased a few days ago. The one muggle item the Ministry failed to provide. She pulled up the address to McLeod’s on her phone, and just before she was about to apparate, the door opened. Harry walked in.

“Here, take this,” he handed her the invisibility cloak. “If my suspicions about what you’re doing are correct, you’ll need it.”

“Thanks, Harry. Hopefully I won’t be long.” She pulled the cloak over herself and apparated to the nearest alleyway. She moved quickly around to find a back entrance to the store. Luckily there was one, and the door was propped open. She slipped inside and made her way to the front of the store, careful to remain silent the entire time.

“...I know he comes here and you do business with him. Now, I suggest you tell me the next time he’s going to show up.” Yes, that was definitely Gerteso, his wand pointed at the shopkeeper.

“T-tonight. H-he always comes Fridays. At night after the shop’s closed. He meets me in the alleyway next door.”

“That’s what I thought. So here’s what you’re going to do. You’ll contact him, or whatever you do before your meetups, tell him tonight is on, but you’re not going to show up. If you even so much as hint that I’m the one meeting him, you’ll be dead faster than you can blink. Understood?” The shopkeeper nodded in a terrified manner. “Tell him 9:00. And he better be punctual. If it’s earlier or later than your normal meetup, tell him you’ve got something planned and he needs to make it work.” 

Hermione watched Gerteso look around the store and then walk out. She turned around swiftly and snuck out the back. After apparating back into the bathroom of the precinct, she pulled out her phone again, and quickly sent Ron a text giving him the heads up that he’d be back at 9, so they should prepare for a stakeout until then. Looking around, Hermione made sure she was alone before pulling off the cloak. 

When she walked out and back into the hall her phone rang. “Hey.”

“Hey, how’d you know?”

“That’s not important. Just trust me, okay? I’m going to tell everyone here that you guys are gonna hang out there for a while on the off chance he comes back, which he will. There’s no suspicion?”

“I don’t think so. I’m glad we finally have a lead. I’ll figure something out. I’ll probably just meet you back at the flat, depending on how late we are.”

“Sounds good,” Hermione said. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” she heard Ron say before she clicked off the phone. That was their way of saying ‘I love you’ right now. Hermione took a deep breath before heading back to the rest of the group.

********************

Ron and Jake were in the same undercover squad car, parked on a side street, just outside of McLeod’s Bargain Store and Curiosity Shop. Ron had told Jake that when Rosa doubled back on the security footage, she noticed that the security cameras had caught Gerteso lurking around this time every night, so they’d decided to wait and see who or what he was waiting for. They still had a while before he’d make his nightly appearance.

Jake was looking at the picture they’d brought of him again. “He’s a weird looking dude, isn’t he?” 

Ron looked at the paper. To be honest, he hadn’t thought much of it. In the magical world, they came across all different sorts of creatures and beings so it hadn’t phased him before. But now, looking closely at the picture, Jake was right. His facial features were strong and jagged, accentuated by a thick beard that was trimmed neatly, and a long mane of dark, dark brown hair. His eyes were a golden brown, which added to his mysterious demeanor. His face was rather pale, which didn’t exactly fit the rest of his features. 

Gerteso oddly reminded Ron of Rufus Scrimgeour, a name he hadn’t thought about since the war ended. He made a mental note to ask Harry and Hermione if Gerteso could possibly be a vampire. The chances were slim since Voldemort had exterminated the lot of them in the war, but they had so few details on the case, and they were already a week in, that Ron figured any little suspicion could help.

“Yeah, he is,” Ron finally answered Jake.

“What’s going on with you? You’re quieter than normal tonight,” Jake commented.

“Just thinking, that’s all,” Ron said quickly. He wished he could talk about the details with Jake, he really did. The whole statute of secrecy thing was really starting to piss him off. They had four strong detectives, two aurors, and Hermione’s brilliance on the case, but because they couldn’t disclose who they truly were, movement was slow going.

“You miss her, don’t you?” Jake asked.

“Who?”

“Hadley? Your wife?” Jake clarified.

“Oh, yeah, I do. The whole no-contact thing is really the hardest,” Ron lied. He and Jake had talked a bit about his personal life before, and Ron had made up a different name for Hermione because it was so unique that he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Not that they were even known about in the muggle world. But better to be safe than sorry.

“I guess that’s the one good thing about single life. No one would miss me if something happened. Y’know? I don’t have to worry about my reckless lifestyle affecting anyone else but me. I’m the lone ranger in this sad, crazy world!” Jake tried to play it off as cool, but Ron thought there was something more to it than that. Before he could ask, he noticed someone appear across the street.

“Jake, look!” Ron said, pointing to the figure.

“Do you think that’s him?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, I reckon so. He’s headed for that alley. We should follow so we don’t lose sight of him.” Ron said. They opened their doors and shut them quietly. 

Jake and Ron quickly crossed the street and stopped just before the alleyway. Jake looked around the corner and noticed that Gerteso was there with another figure. 

“There’s a dumpster further down that we can hide behind. He’s down there with another person, Jake whispered. They moved down the alley and stopped for cover behind the dumpster.

They watched as something was exchanged between them and Ron was studying the other person. He stealthily grabbed his wand and cast a silent identity charm so he could take back the visual of the person to see if they could figure out who he was. 

Suddenly the other person vanished and Jake grabbed Ron’s arm. “What the hell was that?! Where’d he go!?” They saw Gerteso turn and begin walking back towards them, and before Ron could stop Jake from engaging him, Jake jumped out from behind the dumpster with his gun held out. “NYPD! Freeze!”

“Fuck,” Ron said under his breath as he saw Gerteso raise his wand. He held his own at the ready as he joined Jake quickly in the alleyway. “Protego!” he shouted as he saw Gerteso wave his wand. Luckily he’d cast it in time to deflect a curse from hitting Jake.

“Uh, Nolan? What the fuck is happening right now? Is that a wand? What’s going on? I’m not freaking out. I’m not!” Jake was normally fine under pressure, but this, this was unreal. He had to be dreaming.

“Impedimenta!” Ron shouted. It just missed him as another spell was shot his way. Ron blocked that one again as he yelled “stupefy!” Whoever Gerteso was, he seemed to be moving really quickly, able to dodge everything Ron was throwing at him. He wasn’t using any defensive charms and kept sending jinx after jinx their way.

“Jake, get back behind the dumpster!” Ron said to him as he continued fighting Gerteso. As he shot an incarcerous at him, Ron saw a flash of light shoot out from Gerteso’s wand, but it wasn’t aimed at Ron. Before Ron had time to react, it hit Jake in the leg.

Jake yelled out in pain as Ron turned to see his leg on fire. “Aguamenti!” Ron said, quickly extinguishing the flame. “Shit, Jake!” Ron’s distraction was all Gerteso needed as Ron heard a faint pop and he was gone.

“W-where’d he go? He was just right there. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry about that right now, let me see your leg.” Ron examined it and realized Gerteso had shot out some sort of cursed fire. He’d never seen it before but it looked like it was a lower level of fiendfyre that was obviously much more controlled. Ron placed a freezing and numbing charm on Jake’s leg. “We’ve got to get you back to our flat,” Ron said. “Charlotte will know what to do.”

“What about a hospital?” Jake asked.

“We can’t take you to a hospital for this. It should be treatable at home. Don’t worry, I’ve already stopped the pain for now. Look, Jake I really can’t explain what this was about, and I’m really sorry that I have to do this…” Ron held up his wand and cast ‘obliviate.’ He watched Jake’s eyes go fuzzy and then refocus again.

“What happened? Did he get away? He was just right there!”

“Yeah, mate, he struck a match and caught your leg on fire, and took off. I was able to put it out, but we’ve gotta get you back to heal it. Do you think you can drive? You don’t want me driving, that’s for sure. Opposite side of the road and all...” 

“Uh, yeah, I think so. Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“Er, I had some of this special numbing cream to put on it. British specialty.” Ron really hated lying to Jake. “It should hold until we get back to my place. Hold on while I call Amy and Charlotte.” Ron was thinking quickly. There were totally gaps in his story, but he had to roll with it. And Jake was still sort of loopy enough from the obliviation that he was buying it.

Ron dialed Amy since it was the first contact in his phone. He still wasn’t sure how to work the damn thing properly. 

“Hey Nolan, what’s up?” he heard Amy answer.

“Uh, Amy, we had an incident. Can you meet us at our flat?”

“Is everything okay? Nolan, what happened?” Amy said worriedly.

“I can’t tell you right now. Just meet us back at the flat.” Ron hung up the phone. He helped Jake get up and got him back to the car. Thankfully it was his left leg that was injured, so he was still able to drive. 

“What did Amy say?” Jake tried to ask casually.

“She asked what happened. Sounded pretty worried,” Ron responded. “They’re going to meet us at the flat.”

“Oh, good. Yeah, that’s cool,” Jake played it off.

“You like her, don’t you?” Ron smirked at him.

“What? No, of course not! We’re work partners,” Jake defended.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t fancy her,” Ron said. “I’m gonna give you some advice. Just go for it, mate. I waited seven years, and somehow I was lucky enough to still get her. A girl like Amy reminds me of my own. They’re too good to wait around, so don’t wait forever.”

Jake looked at him. “You waited seven years to make a move?”

“Yeah, but thankfully she’d always felt the same way. The way you and Amy banter back and forth, reminds me of me and her way back.”

Jake spluttered a bit and made some noncommittal sounds. It seemed like it took ages to get back to their flat, but when they arrived, they saw Amy, Boyle, Harry and Hermione waiting for them. Charles and Harry helped Ron get Jake out of the car and up to their apartment. They laid Jake down on the couch and Hermione gave Ron a serious look.

“Jake. Jake! It’s gonna be okay, buddy. You’re gonna live. You have to live! The world’s not ready for you to leave it,” Boyle was lamenting overdramatically.

“What happened?” Amy asked, cutting him off. “Did you catch Gerteso?”

“Well, Gerteso met up with someone else,” Ron said, “They finished whatever exchange was made and he went to leave, but we tried to stop him. He put up a fight, and ended up striking a match and tossing it at Jake, hence the burn. He took off when I went to help Jake.”

“Nolan, why does the burn look so odd,” Amy said. “And how is it not hurting him?”

“I put numbing cream on it. I’ve got another British burn salve that should help. I just need to go grab it. Charlotte, could you check your bag for it? I can’t remember which bag it was in. Jason, could you search your stuff, too? We left so quickly last week I don’t remember who packed what.” Ron nodded towards Hermione who followed them into the room.

Hermione shut the door. “What happened?” she hissed. 

“Yeah, mate,” Harry said. “He doesn’t look good.”

Ron was searching for the dittany. That should do enough to heal it without Jake needing additional medical assistance. Ron pulled out his wand and cast muffliato on the door. “Jake jumped out at him when the other guy disapparated. I had to step in and duel him. Hermione, he moves really fast. He wasn’t even using defensive spells. And I think he used some form of adapted fiendfyre that was much more controlled than what we’ve encountered. It’s definitely cursed fire that Jake got hit with. It’s going to heal, but the scar is going to be awful. The dittany will help.”

“Ron! You could have-”

“I’m fine, Hermione. This is what I do. I’m an Auror. Jake’s already been obliviated, too. Now, here, take this, and figure out who it is,” Ron used his wand to draw up the charm he’d cast earlier of the other suspect. “If we can figure out who this is, maybe we can figure out what Gerteso’s after. Boyle and Harry can stop stalking the bank and tail him when we figure it out.”

Hermione sighed, “Alright, but you know I can’t take care of it until they leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said. “Let’s get back out there, the sooner we get this dittany on him, the better. Can you distract them while I apply it? Then we’ll see if Charles or Amy can stay with him tonight.”

They went back out and Ron was able to place the dittany on Jake’s leg, thanks to Harry and Hermione pulling Amy and Charles aside. “You should be good, aside from a nasty scar, but at least we don’t need to go to the hospital. Charles, Amy, can one of you stay with him tonight?” Ron asked.

“Of course! Anything for Jake,” Charles said quickly. Ron noticed the slight disappointment look on Amy’s face when Charles beat her to it. 

“Uh, Charles,” Hermione cut in, “maybe you could take this back to the precinct to get an ID on the second person? I’m sure Amy can take Jake home and stay with him. You could relieve her later?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Charles said, taking the paper that Hermione had no doubt materialized for him. “As long as Amy’s okay with that?”

“What? Oh, y-yeah, I guess I can for a few hours tonight. But I’ll need your help getting him there if he can’t walk.” Amy looked gratefully at Hermione, although a little surprised at her suggestion. “We’ll see you all at the precinct tomorrow? We should probably at least debrief for a couple hours. I’m sure Holt will be fine with the overtime.”

Harry nodded. “That should work. Let’s get some rest for now, though. We’ve all put in more than enough hours today.”

Everyone nodded in agreement as they helped Jake up and saw them out. They had so much to discuss, but they had to wait until they were sure the detectives were gone. This case just kept getting weirder and weirder.

#hp/b99 crossover #hp fanfic #hp trio #b99

[thiswasinevitableid]

7 with indruck?

7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”. I went SFW

“Dude! You can’t go in there! Hey, wait, dude, hold on!”

Jake’s voice jars Indrid from staring miserably at his computer screen. But it does nothing to prepare him for the stack of papers that slams into his desk. 

“Where the fuck do you get off man?” 

Staring him down is a man with dark hair, mis-matched eyes, a scar down his right cheek, and an extremely pissed-off expression. Indrid recognizes him instantly, both from T.V and his last assignment.

“Mr. Newton?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, the guy you been draggin through the goddam mud!” 

“I-”

“Where are you even gettin this stuff? Substance abuse, bad break-ups, the split between me and my team, who the fuck told you that bullshit?”

“I am not going to reveal my sources.”

“Oh now you get some fuckin ethics?”

“I was just reporting what people told me. I was assigned to round up the press around you now that you’re relaunching your show, and this is what I got. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

“Upsets me?” Mr. Newton plants his hands on the desk, leaning into Indrid’s space, “buddy, I ain’t even on the same planet as upset right now. I’m actually feelin pretty damn calm, because I know who the fuck is to blame.”

“It’s not my fault” Inrid snaps back, “I got assigned it at random, so if you have issues kindly take them up with Woodbridge.”

“Sir, if you insist on raising a fuss in my office-”

“This him?” Mr. Newton points to Woodbridge as the editor appears from his office. 

“Yes.” Indrid glares at Woodbridge through his glasses; he told him these kind of stories would lead to trouble, and it wasn’t even his usual beat.

He braces for Mr. Newton continuing to escalate, but instead the stocky man takes a deep breath , holding his hands up apologetically.

“Look, I’m real sorry, shouldn’t have come in guns blazin like that, and I know you fellas gotta make a livin same as anyone but this kind of stuff-” he whacks the papers into Indrid’s lap, “y’all gotta remember there’s a human on the other end of it.”

“That’s a very fair point, Mr. Newton-” Woodbridge gestures towards the door.

“A human with a damn good lawyer.”

“Mr.Newton, free speech”

“Protects you from the government, not from the Duck. I don’t mind the break-up nonsense, that happened plenty during the first show. Leo, Minerva, and I have been through every relationship configuration known to man, accordin to papers like yours. But the shit about me drinkin? That could damage my career. So could the reasons your ‘sources’ gave for why the show ended. You tellin me you’d hire a fella who apparently yelled at his co-hosts day in and day out and ‘couldn't hack’ bein’ outdoors?” This last question he directs at Indrid, who shakes his head. 

“Mr. Newton, retracting the story would look very bad for us. However, we’d be more than willing to publish your side of the story.”

“Close, but my word ain’t enough to counter those claims about me bein’ incompetent. I’m goin’ on a month and a half tour to location scout and shoot the first two episodes. I want one of your writers to come with. Specifically, I want him.” He points to Indrid.

“Wait, why me? I’m not a travel writer, and I have a photography assignment due next week.”

“Because you’re the one who caused this mess, slim.”

Indrid starts to protest when Woodbridge turns to with a smirk.

“Start transferring your assignments, Indrid; you’re going on a roadtrip.”

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

Indrid grumbles to himself as he waits on the curb with his bag. Duck, as Mr. Newton has said to call him, told him to pack only one bag, and to bring his camera (“saw your shots when I was researchin you; you might like shootin out on the road”).

A motorcycle pulls up to the curb as he checks the time on this phone. He doesn’t give the vehicle a second look until the rider speaks to him.

“Glad you’re on time.” The helmet comes off, revealing Duck looking much calmer than the last time he saw him, “let’s get your gear on the bike and get goin’.”

Indrid stares at him in disbelief, “were you at any point going to warm me that I’d be doing this whole trip on a death machine?”

“Didn’t think I had to. Figured you knew this was how I traveled now, given all your, uh, thorough research.” Duck fixes him with a shit-eating grin as he straps his bag onto the bike, then hands him a helmet.

Indrid groans, jams the helmet on and awkwardly climbs onto the back of the bike.

“Gonna have to hang onto me, slim.” Duck’s voice crackles through his helmet, “don’t worry, I ain’t gonna bite you, even if I still kinda feel like it.”

“How encouraging.” He loops his arms around the T.V star, winces as the bike pulls out into traffic. There’s a laugh as he tightens his grip in fear, Duck’s body suddenly the only safe thing in the world. 

They zoom onto the freeway, and promptly come to a dead stop in traffic.

“Truly invigorating.” Indrid mutters. 

“Ain’t gonna be much fun until we’re outta the city. And I ain’t about to go zippin’ between lanes to cut ahead; great way to get us both killed.”

As they inch along, Indrid starting to sweat from the heat of the pavement, Duck asks, “did you ever watch the show?”

“Is there anyone who didn’t? Wild World was on every day. I’m fairly certain it’s still all Animal Planet plays some days.”

“Yeah but, uh, did you actually watch it on purpose?” 

“I did, now and then. I found Minerva’s tendency to try more extreme forms of exploration stressful, but I generally enjoyed what I saw. I’m not surprised you’re the one who picked the show back up; you were always oddly compelling on camera, and it was clear it was a passion project for you.”

“Yeah, it really was. Is. Feels weird to be doin’ it without them. Can’t blame ‘em for havin’ their own lives and goals though. Leo was ready to retire after the Gila Monster incident, and Minerva’s wanted to run an adventure bootcamp for years.”

“You know, if you hurry and explain everything in the next ten minutes, you can just pull off there and drop me at the edge of town.”

A chuckle, “Nice try, Indrid. You ain’t gettin outta roughin’ it that easy.”

“It was worth a try. Alaska was the last episode run, right?”

Duck’s posture shifts so subtly that, were he not holding him, Indrid wouldn’t have noticed it. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was. Nothin’ like gettin attacked by a wolf and takin a bunch of rabies shots to the gut to put you off filmin’.” 

“It really was a wolf? Everything I read said-”

“I’d misidentified what attacked us? Yeah, I know. American wolves never really go after humans, that’s why we were so fuckin’ screwed when this one did. Poor fella. He was sick. We coulda proved what happened except I told Leo to destroy the footage and we had a knock down, drag out fight over it until he did.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want my pain, Minerva’s pain, and the wolf’s pain to become some goddamn viral sensation!” Duck snaps. 

Indrid decides to drop it, feels Duck sag in the drivers seat. In spite of dragging him out into the wilderness, Indrid doesn’t bear Duck any bad feeling. And he doesn’t like seeing him sad. 

“I, ah, I always liked the episodes where you showcased moths and butterflies. Moths are my favorite creatures, they’re so varied but so overlooked.”

Nothing but the traffic around them, then, “I once saw a Luna Moth bigger’n my hand. Didn’t get it on camera but damn was it a stunner.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Now there’s a story…”

By the time Duck finishes the cars are finally moving, and Duck changes them into the lane leading towards the exit for a single lane, county highway. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Alright Indrid, hold tight.”

What follows is simultaneously the most thrilling and most terrifying four hours of Indrid’s life as Duck speeds down the road, win whipping around them and the world going by in a blur that’s much more alarming when not behind metal and glass. They find a rest stop, where Indrid shotguns an entire bag of skittles under Duck’s amused gaze, and get back on the road for an only slightly less terrifying four hours more. 

They stop for the night at a KOA (“you’re lucky, slim, I got us a cabin to ease you into things”). Whereupon Indrid is treated to the sight of Duck stripping off his road gear, back muscular and sporting several scars.

“How are you likin’ life on the road?” Duck asks, not turning but starting to undo his pants. Indrid doesn’t look away until he’s down to his boxers.

“You know, it’s growing on me.”

They make their first shooting destination the next afternoon, setting up camp in a mostly-empty campground before hiking off into the woods. Duck shoots B-roll while Indrid photographs, the pair working in near total silence before meeting up with their contact near a jumble of boulders.

“Nice to see you again, Thacker.” Duck shakes the man’s hand, and gets a pat on the back.

“Good to you too, sport. Who’s the new fella?”

“My biographer.”  Duck deadpans.

Duck spends the rest of the day filming as Thacker helps him find nest and burrows and creatures to shoot and narrate over. In spite of the show being done on a single camera, Duck is compelling as always when he talks about the natural world. 

Indrid just wishes he’d sprung for better hiking boots.

“Ooof.” He mutters, face down on his sleeping bag.

“Not surprised, we did about ten miles all told today.”

“I repeat. Oof.”

A kind, sympathetic laugh, “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some dinner.”

Later that night, as he’s climbing into his sleeping bag, Duck pokes his head into the tent.

“Psst, Indrid, come look.” 

Indrid follows him out, kneels by a clump of flowers when he waves him down. 

“See, look, riiight there” Duck points, “it’s a Hummingbird Moth.”

Indrid gasps, delighted, and watches the pollinator flit from blossom to blossom. Duck sits beside him, answering his questions when he asks them, until it’s too dark for either of them to see.

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

Duck never thought he’d have a travel companion again. Not after Alaska, not after the attack and what came in the nights to follow. 

He certainly never assumed the wiry, silvery haired writer who’d nearl fucked everything up would turn out to be that person. But Indrid, for all his initial skepticism, has become an excellent partner. He’s easy going, eccentric enough that Duck’s own quirks don’t phase him, quiet;y awkward, and a damn good photographer. The fact his alienly handsome face has become a bit windburnt and his pale hair a little longer only adds to his charm.

Christ, Duck wants to rip those red glasses off and kiss him until he’s breathless. 

Currently, he’s missing the feeling of long arms around his waist, as he left Indrid back with a family whose jeep had run out of gas. They’re in one of the long, monotonous stretches of desert highway where passersby are few and cell phone service is unreliable, so Duck volunteered to ride ahead to the next gas station and bring some back. As the Jeep comes into view, he sees the family waving. Indrid is leaning against the car, smiling as if Duck is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

That settles it; when they make Santa Fe, he’s calling The Weekly Rounds and asking Woodbridge to extend Indrid’s assignment. And if the old man refuses, well, Animal Planet is thrilled to have him back, and made it clear they’d be happy to pay for an additional camera man.

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

This time they’re the only ones in the campground, and Indrid suspects it might technically be closed. Indrid could do this forever. He wants to stay like this, with Duck, day in and day out, have their evenings be like this. Duck makes a fire, keeping it small to be safe, and the evening progresses like normal, the two of them swapping stories and munching on the dinner they whipped up from leftovers from the last gas station. Then the moon rises, two days from full, and Duck doubles over with a groan. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Indrid moves to help him, but Duck raises his hand to stop him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, ‘Drid, fuck, I thought I had another day, thought we could make it somewhere I could keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Duck, please, you’re hurt, I can call for help, just hold on.”

“No” Duck snarls, still hunched over, “you ain’t callin anyone. What you’re gonna do is run, far and as fast as you can, away from me. Find a tree, find a cave, flag down a car if you can find one. Go, please, fuck.” He falls off the stump he’s sitting on, and in spite of his instructions Indrid tries to help him up.

“Go!” It’s a growl now, and when Duck looks up at him his face is changing shape. Duck drags himself away from the fire, into the shadows, and Indrid turns, starting to run. There’s howl of pain and he stops. He can’t leave Duck like this. He won’t.

Resolute, he turns back to the camp and immediately regrets his decisions. Whatever is in the shadows isn’t human, not anymore. It’s growling low and labored, as it rises onto two feet and howls. 

“Oh fuck me.” Indrid doesn’t dare turn his back, tries to slowly creep away and trips on a stray piece of firewood. The monster lowers to all fours, padding into the firelight across from him. It’s fur is dark and shaggy, it’s hands sport claws and when it opens it’s mouth to grin at him it’s teeth glitter like rows of knives. 

He has to keep the fire between him and it, even if he has to spend his night running in some Scooby-Doo style circle around the fire pit. It’s his only chance.

In one, large leap, the werewolf clears the fire and lands in front of him, front paws bracketing his body when he tries to crawl back.

“Told you to run, slim.” 

“I, I can’t.”

“Didn’t think you were stubborn to the point of dyin’.” 

“Y-you told me not to run from predators, and I c-cannot drive the bike. And, and I didn’t, I couldn’t leave you.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” Duck grins again, “but why do you think I told Leo and Minerva I wasn’t safe to be around no more? Because a werewolf don’t know friend from foe.”

“That’s, that’s a lie. Y-you clearly know me, you know your past, you’re not some mindless killer ahgod.” He whimpers as a muzzle finds the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply before sending hot, hungry breath across his skin. 

“Mmmmm, you smell good, sugar.”

“You’re not going to eat me.” Indrid says, eyes shut.

“You seem real sure about that.” Another snuffle, tongue dragging along his throat.

“You’re not because you are still Duck, just very large and covered with fur and with a mouth full of unnecessarily sharp teeth, and even though you seem convinced you’ve become bloodthirsty you are still you.” It comes out in a rush and he holds his breath as a clawed hand cups the back of his head. Duck tugs his head back, nosing along his exposed neck. He stares at the stares, praying they’re not the last thing he sees. 

“I could rip your goddamn throat out.” Duck says matter-of-factly. 

“Do you want to?” He whispers, hands coming up instinctively to protect his vital organs.

A long growl, and then Duck’s face blots out the night sky, “No. I don’t.”

“Ohthankgoodness.”

Duck rumbles out a laugh, “that’s puttin it mildly, slim. No one ever stuck around long enough to see what I’d do because I always hid myself or they had the goddamn good sense to run when I said too. Always assumed as soon as I was all the way changed, I’d wanna hurt people, even if they were people I loved.” He plucks Indrid’s glasses off, setting them carefully on the picnic table before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear he hadn’t realized was there.

“What do you want to do instead?”

“In general, or to you?” 

“Both?” Indrid is puzzled by his phrasing. 

“Kinda amped up, like I wanna go for a run. Transformin’ basically releases a shit ton of adrenaline so your body just doesn’t collapse from the pain. But as far as you’re concerned…” the muzzle his back, snuffling at his face and chest, “dunno, mostly just wanna keep you close. Protect you. Some part of the wolf-brain is kinda just screamin ‘mine’ over and over again.”

“Oh. Ah. That’s, that’s good.” It’s also painfully arousing, but he’s not quite ready to admit that aloud yet.

“Probably helps that you’re wearing my shirt, since it means my scent is all over you already.”

“You let me borrow it AHHEY, gahthattickles” Indrid cackles as licks and nuzzles his face.

“Aww, didn’t know you were ticklish, sugar.” Duck grabs him, begins mercilessly rubbing his face on any exposed skin he can find.

“I’m not you are just very AHhehe hairy!” In retaliation Indrid reaches between them and scritches his fingers against Ducks chest and belly.

ThwupThwup

They both look at Duck’s tail with surprise. Indrid rubs his belly again.

ThwupThwup

“Didn’t know it did that. I mean, guess makes sense on account of bein’ kinda canine, but I guess I ain’t ever been really happy when I been like this before.”

“Should I keep doing that?”

“Fuck yeah. Hold on, here.” Duck adjusts so he’s on his back with Indrid more or less on top of him. Indrid resumes petting him, Duck making little happy whines as he does.

“Damn, that feels good sugar, ooh right.” 

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s a pet name.”

“I, uh, fuck, um, fuck, I didn’t, meant to say, uh, fuck.” A deep breath as Indrid sits up to meet his eyes, “I’m real fuckin into you, ‘Drid. I, I didn’t wanna say nothin until we were somewhere you could bail out easily if you needed to. But I ain’t felt this way about anyone in years.”

“Is that wolf-you talking or you-you talking?” Indrid asks, toying with a patch of fur.

“Both. I wanna be with you, and wanna keep travelin with you as my partner, as my, uh, my boyfriend. As my mate. Okay, that last bit was definitely the wolf talking.”

“I...I would like that as well, Duck. I didn’t know how to say it, I was afraid that what happened with your friends meant you didn’t want to be close to anyone. Including me.”

Duck sighs, “I wish I’d known then what we figured out tonight. Maybe things woulda ended a little better between us three. I just, I couldn’t face the idea of bein’ out on a shoot with ‘em and havin this exact thing happen.”

“I must admit, the lack of a full moon is rather confusing.”

“It ain’t just the full moon. It’s a few days after and before too, and I thought I had one more before it hit. Plan was to sneak out of the hotel in Santa Fe and hole myself up in a cave somewhere.”

Indrid strokes his cheek, the fur a little coarser there, “That was what attacked you three, I take it.”

“Uh huh. We were trackin it, thinkin’ it was some kind of huge predator we might be able to film.  It jumped Minerva first, but she’s a tough one, managed to hold her own and only got scratched up. I pulled it off her and it bit me. I, uh, I shot it point blank while it was doin’ that. Turned into a man as it fell in the dirt. Leo and Minerva said I did what I had to but I...well, let’s just say I still see that fellas face a lot in my dreams.”

“No wonder you wanted the footage destroyed.” Indrid murmurs.

Duck nods, waves one hand in front of his face, “damn skeeters, c’mon, let’s get in the tent.”

The tent is a tight fit, but Indrid couldn’t be happier. He crawls onto Duck’s chest, nestling against his fur with a sigh. 

“Now if you have bad dreams when you’re like this, you have someone to to hold.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “Thanks, sugar.”

Indrid falls asleep atop a giant wolfman, and wakes up to the morning sun and much smaller, human man sprawled beneath him, who he wakes with a flurry of kisses. 

They make Santa Fe by noon, riding in feeling freer then either of them has in a long time. When they ride out the next morning, Indrid has a new job and Duck has a new cameraman. But all either can think about at the moment is his new boyfriend, and the future spreading out ahead of them beneath the rising sun. 

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #celebrity au #werewolf AU #meet ugly #prompt fills

[tw-anchor]

22. The Kanima’s Master

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 2x10; Fury

Word Count: 5,938

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence, injuries

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy! Don’t forget to reblog and like!

Masterlink in Profiles Description!

"So, this kid," Noah pointed at the yearbook slapped on Stiles' desk, page open with a bright red circle around Matt's picture. "he's the real killer?"

Stiles, Scott, and Olivia all looked at each other before nodding at him. "Yeah."

Noah shook his head. "No."

"Yes!"

"No."

Stiles sighed in frustration. "Dad, come on," he groaned, wishing his dad would just believe him one time. "Everybody knows that the police look for ways to connect victims with a murder, okay? So, all he had to do is, like, look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common."

"Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Kara, wasn't in Harris' class," Noah crossed his arms over his chest.

"All right, okay. You're right, sorry," Stiles shrugged mockingly. "Then I guess they dropped the charges against him?"

Noah stared at him in frustration, wishing he could deny Stiles' claim; Stiles had seen the look on his face many times. "No, you know what, they're not dropping the charges," he conceded. "but that doesn't prove anything."

Stiles scoffed in disbelief and shared a wide-eyed look with Scott.

"Olivia," Olivia perked up when the sheriff addressed her, "do you believe any of this?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "It's difficult to explain but you have to trust your son."

Stiles gave her a grateful look to which she nodded back at him.

"We know it's Matt," Scott added in support.

"Yeah, he took Harris' car, okay," Stiles shared his theory with Noah. "Look, he knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders, and that if enough of the victims were in Harris' class, that they'd arrest him."

"Matt Daehler's smart, Sheriff Stilinski," Olivia stated. "He's not the run of the mill type of lacrosse player."

Stiles gave her an offended look. "Uh, was that supposed to be a slight against me and Scott, 'cause I think it—"

"Stiles, really?"

"Right, right," Stiles turned back to his dad expectantly.

"All right, fine," Noah sighed. "I'll allow the remote possibility but give me a motive. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Stiles gestured wildly. "Our swim team sucks! They haven't won in, like, six years."

Olivia cocked her head thoughtfully while Noah gave his son an unimpressed look. She thought about how Mr. Lahey had abused Isaac ever since his mother died; who's to say the man didn't take out some aggression on other kids, too?

"Okay, so, we don't have a motive yet," Stiles' shoulders slumped. "I mean, come on, does Harris?"

Noah pressed his lips together and looked down at Matt's picture in the yearbook. "What do you want me to do?"

Olivia perked up, surprised that Sheriff Stilinski gave into his son's explanation. Before, it hadn't looked like he was going to. Stiles whipped around to grin at her and Scott, obviously speechless.

"We need to look at the evidence," Scott requested, more composed than Stiles; Stiles nodded rapidly.

"Yeah, that would be in the station where I no longer work."

"Trust me, they'll let you in," Stiles said earnestly.

Noah raised an eyebrow at him. "Trust you?"

"T-Trust Scott or Olivia?" Stiles stammered, pointing to them.

Noah exhaled through his nose before pointing at Olivia. "Olivia, I trust."

"Really?" Stiles asked in surprise; he didn't blame his dad for trusting her because it was Olivia but she and Noah had hardly spoken to each other. "You hardly know her."

"You wanna go to the station or not?" Noah challenged him.

"Oh, yeah, uh, definitely—I definitely want to go to the station."

Noah left the room and Olivia followed after him, sending Stiles a cute smile and teasingly poking out her tongue at him. Stiles sighed as he watched her leave his room before turning to Scott, "I'm gonna marry that girl someday."

Scott chuckled and clapped his shoulder. "Sure, you will, buddy."

-

Since there was only one murder that the kanima didn't commit himself, they started with footage from the hospital first. They were hoping that the cameras placed in every hallway would have captured Matt on the way to murder Jessica, the woman who Jackson couldn't kill because she was pregnant.

The deputy that had desk duty that night had taken only a minute for Noah to convince her to let him into his office. From there, Noah was allowed to access all of the evidence that the police were building for this case.

"I don't know, guys," Noah sighed after watching twenty minutes of footage, none of which had Matt in it. "I mean, look at this. There was a six-car pileup that night, the hospital was jammed."

"Just keep going," Stiles urged. "Look, he had to have passed one of the cameras on that floor to get to Jessica, okay? He's gotta be on the footage somewhere."

Olivia narrowed her eyes at the computer, watching one of the figures storm down the hall. "Hold on, stop and scroll back," she requested, pointing out the guy she had been eyeing. "I'm pretty sure that's him."

"That's him!" Stiles agreed as soon as he took a closer look. "That's Matt."

"All I see is the back of someone's head."

"Matt's head, yeah," Stiles told his father. "I sit behind him in history. He's got a very distinct cranium, it's weird."

Noah looked up at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

"Matt has a weird walk, though," Olivia told the sheriff. "It's like he's always in a rush to murder someone."

"His walk," Noah's voice was flat; Olivia bit the inside of her cheek.

"Fine, then look at his jacket," Stiles pointed at the footage again. "How many people do you know who wear black leather jackets?"

"Millions, literally."

"Okay," Scott interjected. "can we scroll forward? There's gotta be a shot of him coming at one of the cameras."

Noah clicked play and the footage went on for a couple of seconds before Stiles stopped him again.

"Right there!" he exclaimed; Noah stopped the footage. "See, there he is again."

"You mean there's the back of his head again," Noah corrected him.

"Okay, but he's talking to someone."

Scott peered over Stiles' shoulder. "He's talking to my mom."

Within seconds, Scott was on the phone, asking him mom about her run-in with Matt.

"Scott, you know how many people I deal with in a day?" Melissa asked incredulously.

"This one's sixteen, he's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenager—"

"Yeah, he looks evil," Stiles enthusiastically cut Scott off.

Olivia grabbed his shoulders, pulling him away from the phone. She ignored the accusing look he had given her and pressed a finger to her lips in a signal to be quiet.

"Scott, I already talked to the police about this."

"Mom, I'm gonna take a picture and send it to you," Scott quickly took a picture of Matt in the yearbook and sent it to his mom. "Did you get it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you recognize him?" Scott asked. "Do you remember him?"

"Yeah, I did," Melissa confirmed. "I mean, I remember I stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall...Scott, what's going on?"

"It's—It's nothing, Mom," Scott assured her while Stiles, Noah, and Olivia exchanged looks. "I'll explain later. I gotta go."

He quickly ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket.

Noah hurriedly grabbed one of the files in the pile next to him. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."

"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders," Stiles continued thoughtfully. "The trailer, the hospital, and the rave."

"Actually, four," Noah corrected him. "A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."

"When?"

"A couple hours before you got there," Noah checked the file for confirmation.

Stiles shook excitedly and Olivia couldn't help but smile at him. This was his thing. Like her thing was science, his thing was solving cases—full blown detective work that impressed the hell out of her.

"All right, Dad," he said quickly. "if one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?"

Noah slammed the case file shut. "Four's enough for a warrant," he stated before looking at Scott and Olivia. "Scott, call your mom back and see how quick she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Olivia, you go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

Olivia nodded firmly. "On it."

Olivia left Noah's office, heading down the hallway that they had traveled to get there. To her surprise, the young deputy who let them in wasn't at the desk like before. And when she turned around, there weren't any night-duty cops in their wreck room, either.

"Hello?" she called softly.

Tingles started erupting all over her body, goosebumps covering her skin.

Olivia.

Olivia followed the voice whispering in her ear, turning around to see that Matt Daehler had been behind her, aiming a cocked gun to her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, she whimpered mentally.

"Matt," she breathed, trying to keep her fear from showing on her face. "Let's talk about this."

"Let's not," Matt said sharply, a single tear falling from his eye. "Why don't you lead me back to the Sheriff's office?"

Olivia nodded and slowly raised her hands so Matt could see that she wasn't going to try anything. Matt gestured down the hall with his free hand and she instantly started walking, leading him back to Noah's office where the boys were waiting for her.

She tried not to freak out, taking deep breaths and telling herself to be calm. She didn't know if it was the breathing or if her anchor powers could work on her, too, but she did feel herself calming down the slightest bit. She wasn't panicked but she was still on edge.

Who wouldn't be with a gun held to their back?

Olivia heard Scott tell Stiles and Noah that his mom was on her way to the station as she walked into the office. The Stilinski men weren't able to respond to Scott, spotting Olivia' predicament right away; Scott followed their eyes, his own widening when he saw Matt and the gun he aimed at Olivia.

Olivia could see Stiles clenching his jaw and shifting angrily. She really hoped he wouldn't lose his temper and make Matt even angrier.

"Matt?" Noah's voice was calm, the antithesis of Stiles' expression. "It's Matt, right?" Matt nodded cockily. "Matt, whatever's going on, I guarantee you there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"You know, it's funny you say that," Matt scoffed. "I don't think you're aware of just how right you are."

Noah had no idea what Matt was talking about but Olivia, Stiles, and Scott knew.

"I know you don't wanna hurt people."

"Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people," Matt disagreed. "You four weren't on my list but I could be persuaded."

Olivia flinched as Matt pushed her away from him with the barrel of his gun, urging her toward Stiles and Scott. Stiles instantly grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him in case Matt had any ideas.

"And one way is to try dialing somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing," Matt snapped, seeing movement in Scott's jean pocket. "That—that could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone," he pointed his gun on the desk, wanting them to give up their phones. "Now!"

The four of them put their phones on Noah's desk. Matt then marched them out of the office, down the hallway, to the holding room, where he made Noah sit on one of the benches just a few feet away from the two holding cells. He had Stiles put handcuffs on him, attaching him to the metal bar right behind him.

"Tighter," Matt ordered, pointing his gun at Stiles when Stiles clasped the cuff loosely around Noah's wrist.

"Do what he says, Stiles," Noah nodded at his son.

Stiles rolled his eyes and tightened the cuff before looking at Matt expectantly. Matt scowled at him and grabbed Olivia's shoulder, pushing her out of the holding room. Stiles and Scott were quick to join the line behind her as Matt herded them to the front desk.

As they were walking by one of the hallways, Olivia stopped in her tracks, horrified by what she saw. The three night-duty deputies, plus the one who was manning the desk, were all dead, their stomachs slashed to shreds. The kanima was in the station, too.

Scott gaped at the sight of them. "What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?" he looked back at Matt incredulously.

"No, that's what Jackson's for," Matt remarked. "I just think about killing them and he does it."

Olivia bit the inside of her cheek, desperately wanting to comment about how one of her closest friends wasn't just a murder slave. But she didn't—they couldn't have the situation escalating. She had to be calm, cool, and collected and she would be. She didn't hide her emotions all the time for nothing.

Matt pushed on Stiles' back, sending him into Scott, who fell into Olivia. She jumped forward, getting the hint that Matt wanted them walking again. They walked around the front desk and down another hallway, entering what looked to be a shared office.

"What is it that you wanna do, Matt?" Stiles spoke up, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Or are you just gonna parade us around the station a couple of times? I've seen it plenty, it's nothing special."

"Shut up, Stilinski," Matt pushed him toward the desk with the computer. "I want you three to delete the evidence. Anything relating to all of this, I want gone."

Stiles, Olivia, and Scott shared a look; if that evidence was gone so was the case against Matt.

"Get going!" Matt raised his voice.

Stiles went to the computer, deleting the evidence stored on the hard drive while Scott and Olivia started on the files, going through them for anything to do with the case. One the evidence was collected, they shredded it all under Matt's watchful gaze.

"Deleted and we're done," Stiles tapped a key on the computer and aimed his heated gaze at Matt. "All right, so, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first—whatever the fuck that means—we're good here, right? We'll get my dad and we'll go, you know? You continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the kanima."

Just as Stiles finished speaking, a car pulled into the lot, it's headlights flashing through the blinds in the window.

Matt's eyes flickered over to Scott. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall."

"Matt, don't do this," Scott pleaded roughly. "When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything."

The door that led to the wreck room groaned loudly as it was opened.

Matt glared at Scott. "If you don't move, now, I'm gonna kill Olivia first, then Stiles, and then your mom," he gestured out of the office. "Let's go."

And so they marched back to the wreck room.

"Open it," Matt ordered Scott when he hesitated at the door.

"Please, Matt—"

"Open. The. Door."

A phantom sting raced across the back of Olivia's neck, causing her to wince. The feel of it was familiar, not because it was happening to her, but because it had happened to Derek before.

Scott opened the door, revealing Derek standing behind it.

"Oh, thank God."

"Derek!" Olivia lunged toward her cousin, hoping to catch him as he fell forward but Matt quickly tugged her back. Derek hit the floor on his back and glared at Matt with angry pale-green eyes.

"This is the one controlling him?" he grunted as Jackson—half in his kanima form—entered behind him. "This kid?"

Matt let go of Olivia, pushing her toward Jackson, and leaned over Derek. "Well, Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf."

Olivia hid the surprise on her face, though Matt could easily see it on Stiles and Scott.

"Yeah, that's right," he nodded proudly. "I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas, whatever the hell Olivia is...It's like a fucking Halloween party every full moon," he caught Stiles rolling his eyes. "Except for you, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

Please do not sass him, Olivia pleaded mentally as she side-eyed Stiles.

That was exactly what he did. "An abominable snowman," he told Matt dryly. "But, uh, it's more of a wintertime thing, you know? Seasonal."

Stiles...

Matt nodded at Jackson; from behind Olivia, he reached for the back of Stiles' neck and slashed his skin. When Olivia and Scott moved to stop him, the kanima was quick to push them away. Stiles fell right on top of Derek, paralyzed just like the alpha.

"You bitch," Stiles' voice was warbled since his face was smushed against Derek's chest.

Derek just seemed very annoyed with the whole situation. "Get him off of me."

"Oh, I don't know, Derek," Matt drawled, amused. "I think you two make a pretty good pair," Olivia furrowed her eyebrows, not seeing the same thing as Matt apparently did, and Derek just blinked flatly. "It must kinda suck, though, to have all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

"Still got some teeth," Derek snarked back at him. "Why don't you get down here a little closer, huh? We'll see how helpless I am."

"Yeah, bitch," Stiles grunted.

"Matt," Olivia spoke up, keeping her voice calm; Matt turned to her with expectant eyes. "We deleted the evidence and you obviously have the upper hand, here. You got what you wanted so just let us go."

Matt scoffed. "You didn't think that would work, did you, Olivia?" he asked mockingly as a vehicle pulled up to the station. He paused and turned to smirk at Scott, distracted. "Is that her?"

Scott inhaled deeply, knowing that his mom had finally arrived; Olivia reached for his hand, trying to offer some kind of support.

"Do what I tell you to and I won't hurt her," Matt ordered him. "I won't even let Jackson near her."

"Scott, don't trust him!" Stiles yelled from his place on Derek's chest.

Matt gritted his teeth and grabbed the back of Stiles' shirt, flipping him around and off of Derek's chest so his back was on the floor. He placed his dirty shoe against Stiles' throat, applying pressure.

Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.

"Does this work better for you?" Matt shouted at Scott as Stiles choked underneath him.

"Stop," Olivia rubbed her ear, her free hand going to her throat. "Matt, stop!"

Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.

Stiles' face was rapidly turning red, the vein in his forehead popping out as he continued to choke.

"Okay, just stop!" Scott yelled.

"Then do what I tell you to!"

"Okay, all right," Scott agreed; Matt continued to hold pressure. "Stop!"

Matt took his foot away from Stiles' throat. Olivia fell to her knees beside him as he gasped sharply, placing a cool hand on his red cheek to make sure he was okay.

"Get up," Matt roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet before looking over at Jackson. "Take them in there," he nodded at Scott. "You and Olivia are with me."

Matt pushed them out of the wreck room and into the lobby just as Melissa was entering the station.

"Mom?"

Melissa looked away from her phone and sighed in relief when she saw Scott and Olivia walk out. "You scared me. Where is every—"

"Mom," he cut her off as Matt appeared behind them, gun aimed at Scott's back; Melissa bristled, looking absolutely terrified. "just do what he says. He promised he wouldn't hurt you."

"He's right," Matt agreed before cocking his gun and shooting Scott. "but I didn't say I wouldn't hurt you."

Olivia gasped as Melissa screamed and Scott fell to the floor, her stomach tingling. She ignored the whispers of Scott's name to kneel down next to him, putting pressure on the steadily growing blood stain on his green shirt.

"SCOTT?" she heard Noah yell from the holding room. "OLIVIA? STILES?"

Melissa went to help her but was stopped when Matt aimed his gun at her. "Back, back!"

"Ms. McCall, stop," Olivia pleaded, pushing her hands against Scott's wound. She didn't want Melissa to get hurt and Matt would do it. He had proved his violent tendencies with all of the people he had Jackson kill. "Please, stop."

"I said get back!"

"Scott..." Melissa's wet eyes were stuck on her son.

"Mom, do it," Scott told her. "Please, Mom."

"He's gonna be okay, Ms. McCall," Olivia assured her just to keep her away.

Melissa stayed back, not moving another inch. Satisfied, Matt turned back to Olivia and Scott, lowering his gun to aim it at Olivia. "Get up," he snapped at her. "You too, McCall."

"Matt?" Noah called, trying to get anyone's attention. "Matt, listen to me—"

"Shut up! Everyone shut the fuck up!" Matt screamed before giving Olivia and Scott his attention once again. "Now, get up, or I'll shoot you and her next."

Olivia nodded shakily, let go of Scott's wound, and scooped her hands under his armpits so she could lift him to his feet. "Okay, we're up. We're up."

"We're putting her in the holding cell," Matt gestured to Melissa. "Let's go."

Olivia was the one to put Melissa in the holding cell; Matt's gun was at her back while she slid the lock into place, making sure she did it correctly so Melissa couldn't get out.

"Please, he needs to see a doctor," Melissa begged Matt.

Matt snorted. "You think so?"

"Hey!" Noah barked, not liking the way he talked to Melissa; he jumped to his feet, his left arm still cuffed to the metal bar, and pointed at him. "You listen to me—"

"Stop, stop!" Olivia cut them off before Matt could get more pissed. "He'll be okay."

"He's clearly not okay!" Melissa argued tearfully, pointing at Scott, who was still clutching his stomach.

But Melissa didn't know what Olivia knew; Scott's name wasn't being whispered to her. His wound was healing and he'd be fine in a matter of minutes.

"Mom, it doesn't hurt," Scott assured his mother.

"That's because of the adrenaline," Melissa shook her head. "Please, let me—let me take a look at him, okay? I mean, at least let me stop the bleeding."

Matt laughed and looked back at Scott in disbelief. "They have no idea, do they?"

"Just let me take a quick look—"

"SHUT UP!" Matt roared at her, lunging toward the cell. "Lady, if you keep talking, I'm gonna put the next bullet through his head."

"Hey!" Olivia pushed against him, sending him skidding back a couple of inches from her. "Back off!"

She could be calm but she wasn't about to let this guy bully Scott's mom. She was clearly desperate, thinking her son was going to die, and not thinking about her own safety. Olivia would, though. She wouldn't let Matt hurt Melissa.

Matt scrambled toward her, throwing back his hand with the gun and backhanded her with the butt of it.

"HEY!"

"LIV!"

Olivia cried out as she fell to the floor, holding her aching cheek. The pain was bad but it was bearable. She had never been shot before, but she knew that she would feel worse if he had shot her like he did Scott. She sucked in a few desperate breaths to keep the stinging in her eyes at bay. She wasn't going to cry in front of this asshole.

"Liv, are you okay?" Scott asked worriedly.

"Get up," Matt snarled at her again before she could answer Scott.

Olivia glared at him and let go of her face, getting to her feet. He pushed her toward Scott and she grabbed him to steady herself, inhaling deeply. She nodded at Scott, silently telling him that she was okay.

"Both of you, back to the front," Matt ordered. "Let's go!"

Back in the front room, Matt pushed Olivia and Scott past Stiles and Derek where they were laying on the floor. They were both still paralyzed and they were both visibly fuming, though the lack of sensation in their bodies led them unable to do anything to Matt.

"The evidence is gone," Olivia spat at Matt, repeating her earlier words. "Why don't you just go?"

"You—you think the evidence mattered that much?" Matt scoffed, shaking his head. "No, no, I-I want the book."

"What?" Scott was confused; so was Olivia, for that matter. "What book?"

"The bestiary," Matt told them. "Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"That's Argent's bestiary," Olivia could not believe they were going through all of this for a glorified dictionary written in archaic Latin. "We don't have access."

"What do you want it for, anyway?"

Matt glowered at Olivia and answered Scott, "I need answers."

"Answers to what?"

Matt lifted his striped t-shirt, revealing his stomach covered in scales just like Jackson's. "To this."

Olivia wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Look, you want to talk to the Argents? Be my fucking guest. Good luck," she glared at Matt. "but we don't have the answers for you so let us go."

Matt just shook his head and raised his gun to her head, cocking it. "Give me your phone," he told Scott. "or I'll blow her brains out."

Okay, so, that was a bad idea, Olivia admitted to herself as she stared down the barrel of the gun. What happened to cool, calm, and collected? Show no fear, Liv. Damn it, do not cry.

The problem with Matt demanding Scott's phone was that they had already given them to him when he first showed up. It was Stiles who was the one to remind the psycho about that. Luckily, he did so with no sarcasm, otherwise Olivia was sure she would have gotten a bullet to the head.

After marching Scott and Olivia back to Noah's office, he texted Allison on Scott's phone, asking her to bring the bestiary to the station.

"There," Matt threw Scott's phone back on the desk and walked them to the bullpen where the deputies usually did their work. "You know, I feel sorry for you, McCall. Cause right now, you're thinking about how you're gonna explain to your mom that you healed."

Scott looked down at his wound; the blood had trailed down from under his stained shirt and had dripped onto his jeans, too.

"The sad part is, you don't even realize how incredible it is that you're actually healing," Matt went on. "Cause you know what happens to everyone else when they get shot? They die."

Olivia eyed him carefully, noticing how he had emphasized the last word of his statement. And then she remembered the conversation at the rave. When he had told them—through Jackson—that people had killed him.

"You died, didn't you?" she asked, her mind racing. She thought about how he was afraid of water. "How did you drown?"

Matt shook his head slightly. "He shouldn't have let them drink."

"What?" Scott furrowed his eyebrows. "Who?"

"You're talking about Mr. Lahey, aren't you?" Olivia guessed. "He let the swim team drink?"

Matt nodded in confirmation. "I didn't know what was happening," he revealed. "I didn't know they had just won state and Lahey, he's letting his favorites come over to have a couple of drinks to celebrate. Who cares if they're seventeen, right?"

Scott cocked his head. "Were you at Isaac's?"

"He had this first edition Spider-Man—or was it Batman?" Matt recalled. "And we were gonna make a trade but then I went over there and I heard music. Everyone was having a good time and I saw Sean. He threw Jessica in the pool. And then—and then Bennett went in and—"

"Bennett?" Scott interrupted. "The hunter?"

"And then Camden, Isaac's jarhead brother," Matt continued as if Scott hadn't spoken. "He grabbed me. He thought it was funny."

Olivia pressed her lips together. "He threw you in."

"I-I yelled that I couldn't swim but nobody listened. I went under and I swallowed water and no one cared," tears drip down Matt's face. "I-I saw that Jessica had her hands down Sean's board shorts. Tucker was grabbing Kara. And I was drowning. I was dying and they were laughing."

The sadness, the complete devastation in Matt's tone made Olivia swallow harshly. Nothing justified him making Jackson kill these people but there was a part of her that understood. They had done something horrible to him and he got his revenge.

"All of a sudden, I was just—I was lying by the pool with Mr. Lahey right above me. He said to tell no one and that it was my fault," Matt face crumpled as he imitated Mr. Lahey, "'What little bastard doesn't know how to swim? You tell no one!' And I didn't. I didn't tell anyone," he shook his head, disgusted. "I would see them at school and they wouldn't even look at me. I'd wake up in the middle of the night, I'd gasp for breath. And my parents, they thought I was an asthmatic. They—they even gave me an inhaler. They didn't know that every time I closed my eyes, I was drowning..."

Olivia wished that Matt would have told his parents about what happened. She wished that they could have gotten him help. She wished that he hadn't turned into this person.

"You know about that little white light that they talk about, the one you see when you die?" Matt looked to Olivia and Scott; both of them nodded. "Well, I didn't see anything. Just darkness. Everything was dark...but then—then came the Argent's funeral and everything changed."

"What do you mean?" Olivia didn't know what he was talking about. How would Kate's funeral change everything?

"I was taking some photos and then, purely by accident, Lahey got in one of the photos," Matt told her. "I looked down at the screen on my camera and I just had this unbelievable rage inside of me. I-I just looked at him and I wanted to see him dead...The next day, he actually was."

"You know, Einstein was right," he said thoughtfully. "Imagination is more important that knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology. Like—like the furies coming down to punish Orestes."

Scott shot Olivia a confused look and Matt caught it.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" he deadpanned at him.

"Was he the guy who stabbed out his eyes?"

"That was Oedipus," Olivia corrected him. "Furies are deities of vengeance. Their tears were blood and they had snakes as their hair. If a crime went unpunished, the furies would punish the instigator."

"Jackson is my fury," Matt declared, earning himself a disgusted look from Olivia. "You know, when I saw him the next night, it was like this bond had been cemented between the two of us. I knew he had killed Lahey for me and I knew he would do it again. So, I went to Tucker's garage," he scoffed. "I even paid for an oil change and guess what? He didn't even recognize me. So, when he wasn't looking, I took a shot of him from my camera. In a few hours, he was dead...So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture and Jackson would take their life."

The lights flashed for a second before going out altogether. The station was bathed in darkness except for the few emergency lights.

"What is this?" Matt freaked out as Olivia looked around nervously. "What is this? What's happening? What's going on?"

"I don't know!" Scott told him.

A car pulled into the station's parking lot, its headlights flashing through the windows. Olivia barely had enough time to see more vehicles coming in before she was ducking to avoid the bullets being shot at the window. She ducked down behind a desk with Scott at her side, both of them looking at each other with wide, frightened eyes.

There was a flash as a couple of canisters were thrown through the window the bullets had just broken through. Smoke erupted out of them and within seconds, the room was full of it. Olivia coughed into her arm and tugged on Scott's sleeve, yelling, "Come on!"

Scott ran out of the room first, running straight to Jackson so Olivia could get around him. She dashed into the room where Stiles and Derek were being kept and knelt next to Stiles.

"Take him," Derek urged her. "Go!"

Olivia nodded and gathered Stiles' arms just as Scott joined them and Derek ran from the room. Scott helped Stiles to his feet and carried half of his weight as he and Olivia dragged him through the station with Jackson on their tail.

"Here, here, here," Olivia pointed to an upcoming room. They entered and set Stiles on one of the chairs. Scott quickly ran out of the room to see what was going on but Olivia stayed for a second. "I'm gonna go check on your dad and Ms. McCall," she told him. "Don't move, okay?"

"Seriously?" Stiles glared at her.

"Sorry," she quickly apologized before leaving the room and making sure the door was shut firmly behind her.

The smoke wasn't as bad the further she walked through the station to get to the holding room but she couldn't just worry about that. She had come across two grown men with huge-ass guns stalking through the building, looking for someone to shoot. She had to be careful when turning down halls and entering rooms.

Since they were already in the police station, she figured that the Argents were behind this attack. She was proven right when she turned into another hallway and ran into Allison.

She raised her hands when Allison aimed her bow at her. "Allison," she eyed the sharp arrowhead. "What are you doing?"

"Where's Derek?"

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows. "What? What are you even—"

"Where is Derek?" Allison spat at her with hard eyes. "Tell me where he is, Olivia."

"I don't know, Allison! What the hell is going on? What happened?"

She had come to trust the youngest Argent against her better judgement because she liked Allison. They were friends, good friends. They had sleepovers and study dates and talked to each other on the phone at night when they needed someone to talk to. And now her friend was pointing an arrow at her.

Allison's grip dropped and her eyes softened slightly. "You have to stay away from me, Olivia," she warned the shorter brunette. "I—it'll be safer for you if you just stay out of the way."

"What are you talking about?" Olivia was completely confused; Allison didn't answer as she pushed past her and stomped down the hallway. "Allison!"

Something else was going on that had Allison pulling an Anakin Skywalker ala Revenge of the Sith. If it had Allison turning on her friends, on Scott, then they were all in trouble.

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

[vagrantblvrd]

i love the zombie radio au. that but fahc au?

Oooh, I love it? (Also I hope you don’t mind if I pick a couple of my favorite ships to use in this???)

But like.

Michael and Jeremy with a morning/afternoon drive show, right? These two assholes who do all the required voices you find on said shows.

(You know the ones.)

They also do the Old Men thing, because of course they do.

And since this is Los Santos a topic they discuss often is (naturally) the Fakes.

All the shit they get up to? Of course they make for prime radio show fodder.

Heists and jobs and just general fucking around - - the fucking blimp thing alone, okay?

Michael seems to have this grudge against the Vagabond, something stemming back years when Michael was new to LS and got caught up in a robbery at a convenience store. Got carjacked even, which was extra insulting at the time considering he was driving this shitty little car held together with duct tape and wishes or something.

Anyway, Michael goes extra hard on the Vagabond, all these theories about the dumb skull mask. The guy’s inability to drive in a straight line for any length of time - there’s fucking video footage, asshole, don’t try to deny it.

At first Jeremy’s like, “Uh...maybe not a great idea picking on the guy so much?” but that stops pretty soon after the fucking Golden Boy crashes into Jeremy’s life.

Like, literally.

Fucking crashes that ugly purple Blista of his into Jeremy’s car out of the blue one day. (Not brand new, Jeremy’s car, but it was less than five years old and the single most expensive thing he’d ever bought and the fucker totaled it!)

So then you have Michael going after the Vagabond and Jeremy going after the Golden Boy and their ratings soar, because, look.

Morning/afternoon drive radio show and of course people call in all the damn time, and you know - you know - the Vagabond and Golden Boy are going to take offense these radio hosts are talking shit about them.

Ryan starts things out with ~scary threats and growling and such?

And the producer or whoever answers the calls (I really want it to be Trevor, just because) and Michael notices the wtf is this guy doing? and is this some sicko perv? faces Trevor’s making and tells him to put the call on the air.

Ryan continues with the Vagabond nonsense until Michael cuts in and starts reading him the riot act, because at first he thinks it’s just another weirdo?

Starts in on some rant or other while Trevor and Jeremy are like :O because it might actually be the Vagabond?

After a few minutes Michael stops for air, or asks a pointed question and there’s silence for a long moment and then, “...Uh...” because no one, not even Gavin’s ever talked to Ryan like that before and he has no idea what to say?

And then Michael goes right back to the ranting/yelling and Ryan fails to defend himself because he’s so confused? (People don’t react like that with the Vagabond, or, fine. People who aren’t lunatics don’t react like that.)

Radio show contingent assumes it was just some idiot pretending to be the Vagabond, no big deal, right?

Their listeners loved it though, so when Ryan calls back a few days later in the middle of one of Michael’s tirades about what an asshole the Vagabond is they put him on the air.

After that it’s not like Ryan calls on a regular basis or anything? (Because heists and the like, and sometimes he gets hurt or whatever and isn’t up to it?)

But calls in a lot.

This thing that started out with him trying to intimidate some asshole radio host into stop making fun of him turns into this fun little back and forth and then the most ridiculous flirting.

ANYWAY.

Michael and Jeremy’s show is the best rated on at their station or whatever and the whole city loves the segments where Ryan calls in. Think it’s just another bit like the Old Men and all that?

Meanwhile Michael is 99% sure it’s the actual Vagabond he’s talking to? Just some of the stuff Ryan say, but he tries not to think about that too hard.

And then something happens, Ryan goes on a job out of town or something, and the show’s ratings dip and it’s just

No one’s moping? But they (Michael) kind of are.

So Jeremy tries to pick up the slack, goes real hard on the Golden Boy and Gavin who’s been laughing at Ryan’s infatuation with that one radio host all this time is like hey! and calls in.

Trevor puts him on the air because he thinks it’ll be interesting?

And that’s how Gavin and Jeremy start up their bit of ridiculous flirting and other like shenanigans.

ANYWAY.

This goes on for a while, and until the Fakes pull this heist, right?

One of the most ambitious ones they’ve planned and it falls apart a little at the end. They get the money and all, but their escape plans go to shit and Ryan and Gavin find themselves up near the radio station Michael and Jeremy work at. (Because reasons.)

Cops on their asses and nowhere to run and they need somewhere to hide out for a bit, right?

Know it’s not the best idea, but really, who in their right mind would try to shake the cops by hiding in a radio station? (or something like that.)

They go in and it’s the weekend or something, receptionist off and only a few people in the building.

Jeremy covering for someone who had a family thing or whatever, and it’s not exactly hard work taking caller requests for songs and stuff.

Only thing is, Michael got bored at home and decided to come in to keep Jeremy company, so they’re both there when Ryan and Gavin show up, you know?

Michael going to grab something from the lobby vending machine or whatever and oh, hey, the Vagabond and Golden Boy and what the fuck is this?

Ryan and Gavin being like, oh, shit, because they can’t have Michael running off to call the cops on him , right?

Pull their guns on him and are trying to figure out what to do next when Jeremy comes strolling in to see what’s taking Michael so long.

This awkward moment of, okay, wow. How many people do we have to hold at gunpoint like this before it’s just ridiculous?

And that’s when the last song Jeremy out on ends and - of course the show’s playing in the lobby - and dead air on the radio.

“Someone’s going to wonder what’s going on if that continues,” Jeremy points out, because he’s not wrong?

Ryan and Gavin are like, what do now? before Michael is like “fuck’s sake, you idiots,” and goes off to put another song on while they watch him go all :O because no one’s ever done anything like that to them before?

Jeremy’s like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  because that’s just Michael for you and all?

Ryan and Gavin are also like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  because what even with these two, and shove Jeremy ahead of him to go find Michael, kind of expect him to be on the phone to the cops, but no, no.

He’s talking to Trevor or whoever, telling him Jeremy fell in the toilet or something to explain the dead air and that he’ll kick Jeremy’s ass for being an idiot. Hangs up and glares at Ryan and Gavin AND Jeremy.

Guy said he did some martial arts training and shit, should have kicked their asses or something, but whatever.

A little worried he and Jeremy are going to be murderized by these two assholes, and maybe goes off on a mini-rant about how it’s his day off and all that.

So Ryan cuts in, because now is maybe not the time? And Michael and Jeremy are just, oh, fuck, because that’s the asshole Michael’s been bickering/bantering/flirting with for months?

Like.

Yeah, okay, that actually was the Vagabond he’s been yelling at all this time? And then Gavin chimes in and Michael and Jeremy are like oh, fuck all over again because Jeremy’s been flirting with the fucking Golden Boy.

A few minutes for them to process the fact they’ve been telling those assholes to go fuck themselves and other fun thing for a while now, and also, the thing about being held at gunpoint by them?

Ryan and Gavin being like, “Uh,” about murderizing Michael and Jeremy for being assholes to them, which hadn’t occurred to either of them?

Like, why would they do that, you know?

Some more awkwardness and just about the time they figure out Ryan and Gavin didn’t duck into the radio station with murderizing random people in mind, the cops make an appearance.

Some concerned citizen saw Ryan and Gavin run in an then the dead air and just.

Concern!!1!

So cops showing up and Ryan and Gavin being like shit and preparing to duke it out with the cops with an Epic Standoff---->shootout and all that?

And Michael and Jeremy just look at one another because fucking seriously?

“Well, you guys could do that, or...” they tell them, because hey, look.

The cops don’t know how many people are in the radio station to start with, and people leave their jackets/bits of clothing behind all the time. Also the Lost & Found?

Basically what they’re saying is that it would be super easy to trick the cops into thinking the scary criminals escaped through the back door or some such and these poor radio station employees were held hostage for a bit - super traumatizing, btw, because scary criminals - but thank God the cops were there to save them!!!1!

Ryan and Gavin are like ??? because no way that will work?

But of course it does.

Because reasons.

They decide a little property damage is called for - teensy explosion and teensy fire to mark the Daring Escape - and the cops come in and find the four of them all shaken not stirred but otherwise okay.

Do the whole giving statements and such and then it’s like.

Awkward because Michael and Jeremy are kind of criminals now? (Just a teensy bit.)

Anyway, Ryan and Gavin go off on their merry way and so do Michael and Jeremy and it’s.

Weird for a while.

And then The Fakes pull some stupid shit and Michael and Jeremy are right back to bitching about those idiots, and they get Ryan and Gavin calling in again and it’s pretty much back to normal.

This goes on for a while, and then one night Michael’s at the station late (because reasons) and when he heads out to go home there’s some guy in the parking lot.

Seems nervous and awkward and Michael’s thinking he’s about to get mugged/murderized, and then the guy speaks and he’s like.

Holy shit, it’s the fucking Vagabond?

Only like.

Nerd edition, because Ryan’s not wearing his contacts and also dressed in street clothes and just.

Ryan, you know?

All awkward and nervous about this whole thing, but he was wondering if Michael might want to grab a bite to eat sometime or something?

Like.

Seriously.

Awkward nerd and all that and Michael’s thinking what a terrible idea all that is? But also he kind of likes (a lot) talking to Ryan, and some squishy feelings he picked up over however long they’ve been talking/yelling/bickering/bantering with one another, so.

“Sure, why the fuck not.”

Ryan is like !!! because he was half expecting Michael to tell him to fuck off (which he absolutely does at some point, because Michael, but it’s like. In the middle of some dumb argument so it doesn’t count) and is also like !!! because when?

And Michael who’s been at work all day is like, “Why not now? There’s a place down the road that’s open all night,” so they go and do the awkward first date-thing...thing.

Which turns into more awkward date-thing things until they stop being so awkward and such and Michael’s like well, shit because he’s kind of head over heels for this asshole and that’s super terrible.

Really.

Meanwhile, Jeremy and Gavin have been doing their own awkward dating thing and likewise catching serious feels for one another.

Michael and Jeremy perfectly aware of what the other one is doing - irrevocably fucking up their lives forever - but not addressing it other than the usual?

Still bitch about the Fakes on their show, still get into dumb arguments and the whatnot on their show and it’s pretty much business as usual?

But then someone gets suspicious or something and some corrupt cops/other baddies go after Michael and Jeremy, so of course Ryan and Gavin are like lol, fuck no, and rescue them and the whatnot?

Only thing is everyone in Los Santos finds out about Michael and Jeremy and them literally in bed with these Dangerous Criminals and such. (Okay, not literally, literally, but you get the picture.)’

So they have to go on the run/leave their lives behind or go to jail/be murderized, and seeing as how Ryan and Gavin are to blame they end up at the penthouse or some safehouse somewhere.

Geoff’s like jfc, you morons, at all of them, but specifically Ryan and Gavin. And okay, also Michael and Jeremy.

Tells them to do whatever, but maybe not destroy the city and all that because it’s where they live, shitty as it can be at times, and so.

Uh.

Michael and Jeremy kind of join the crew?

Go through the whole montage scene of learning how to shoot  and such. (Private, one-on-one lessons that are super hands-on and also the reason Geoff kicks them the fuck out of the crew’s private shooting range because fucking really, you assholes, no. Other people in the crew use that too!!1!)

Anyway.

They join the crew and take part in stupid shit the crew does - no one really wants them to do heists or whatever just yet/if ever because they don’t want them in ~real danger/have to kill someone and such?

But you know there’s a situation in which shit goes wrong and Michael and Jeremy have to play the part of the cavalry and some assholes get shot as a result.

(First time for them, yeah, but said assholes were threatening their loved ones and just. Yeah, no.)

After that it’s just more of the same, and eventually they do heists and other stuff, and yeah, maybe they do kill someone, but it’s like. Out of necessirty - their own lives in danger or that of their friends/loved ones some poor innocent passing by, who the fuck knows.

And also?

They find a way to broadcast a radio show - for shits and giggles - where the cops/authorities can’t track them down and it’s geared towards fucking with said cops/authorities and the times it happens exposing corrupt officials and such.

Not so much so the law in Los Santos will do something about it (lol, yeah right) but so the citizens in Los Santos know, might do something about it?

Mostly though, it’s to fuck with the cops/authorities and give the crew shit and just.

Yes.

#ragehappy #myan #jerevin #prompt fills #anon #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #hopefully the cut tag doesn't go wonky on me again #long post #radio show au #Anonymous

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Skin (1.06)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: The siblings head back to Stanford, disaster strikes, and they end up in a nasty sewer like rats

Warnings: cursing, killing, general nastiness, etc

Word Count: 5752

“Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” Dean propped an arm around the back of the seat.

Sam didn’t answer, and I looked from Dean to him. He was on his PalmPilot.

“Hey, De. Sammy wears girly underwear.” I snickered.

“I’m listening, just busy.” Sam elbowed me.

“Busy doing what?” Dean asked as he got out of the car and went around to the gas tank.

“Reading emails.” Sam didn’t look up.

I popped my head out the window, and I looked at Dean with a tilted head.

“Emails from who?”

“From my friends at Stanford.” Sam replied.

“You’re kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?” Dean scoffed.

“Why not?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

“Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?”

Sam shrugged. “I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with Olive and our big brother. Tell them I needed some time off after Jess.”

“Oh. So you lie to them.” Dean shrugged half heartedly. He had pulled something in his shoulder during the Mary hunt, and it was still hurting him.

“No. I just don’t… tell them everything.

Dean scowled. “Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man. I get it, tellin’ the truth it far worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?”

Dean shrugged in response.

“You’re serious?”

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.” Dean said.

“You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?” Sam scowled.

I laughed, and he looked at me. “You are too, Ollie.”

I pouted and Dean mumbled a whatever.

“God…”

“What?” I perked back up.

“It’s this email from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine.”

“Becca?” I asked. I had met plenty of Sam and Jess’s friends when I stayed with them.

“Is she hot?” Dean asked, and Sam ignored him, looking back to the email.

“I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

I winced. I knew Zack too, and he was nice.

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with? You bring those people around Olive?” Dean scowled again as he got back in the car.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.” Sam shook his head.

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.” Dean grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes. “They’re in St. Louis. We’re going.”

Dean laughed. “Look, sorry about your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.

“It is our problem. They’re my friends.”

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam made his puppy eyes, and Dean looked to me for help.

“Ollie, tell him. We’ve been driving for two days.”

I sighed. I hated to be against Dean, but Sam was right. Something sounded off. Zack wouldn’t have murdered his own girlfriend. He was a kind person. I looked at Dean and pouted, giving him my own puppy eyes. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out of the gas station.

                                                         ***

“Oh my God, Sam!” Becca shouted once the door was open.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky.” Sam grinned.

Becca laughed. “You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.”

They hugged, and Dean pulled me into his side.

“I got your email.” Sam sighed.

“I didn’t think you would come here.” She shook her head. “Oh my god, hi Olive! You’re so big!”

“Hi.” I waved.

“Dean. Older brother.” Dean stuck his hand out.

She looked him up and down and then smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Dean nodded.

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.” I spoke up.

“Come in.” She stepped back into the house, opening the door further.

We walked in, and Dean was last, shutting the door behind us.

“Nice place.”

Becca laughed. “It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial. Do you guys want a beer or anything? Maybe a soda for the underaged kid?”

I laughed. “No, thanks.”

“So, tell us what happened?” Sam asked as we stopped in the kitchen, sitting around the table.

“Well, uh, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. She was beaten up, and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” She stumbled on her words, beginning to cry. “So, he called 911, and the police… they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police… they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight.”

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.” Sam shrugged.

“We could.” Dean agreed.

“Why? I mean, what could you do?” Becca asked.

“Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop.” Sam grinned.

Dean laughed, and I smiled. “Detective, actually.” I added.

“Really? Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now.” Dean smiled.

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just… I dunno.”

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.” Sam insisted.

Becca looked around, then nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys.”

Dean waited until she disappeared down the hall, then turned to Sam was a glare. “Oh, yeah, man. You’re a real straight shooter with your friends.”

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help.” Sam defended himself.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.” Dean shrugged.

“Two places at once? We’ve looked into less.” Sam made the puppy eyes.

Dean sighed, knowing he was defeated.

                                                        ***

“You sure this is okay?” Becca asked Dean.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I am an officer of the law.” Dean walked into the house first.

Sam and I followed. The walls were smeared with blood, and it smelled awful. There was furniture broken, also bloody.

“Bec, you wanna wait outside?” Sam asked.

“No. I wanna help.” She ducked under the police tape and left the porch, coming into the house.

“Tell us what else the police said.” I asked.

“Well, there’s no sign of a break in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers, they’re already talking about plea bargain.” She looked around the room and began to cry.

“Look, Bec. If Zack didn’t do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?”

Becca shook her head, but then lit up, remembering something. “Uh, there was a robbery, about a week before. Somebody broke in and stole some of Zack’s clothes. They didn’t think it was anything related. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.”

Dean turned his attention to a barking dog, and Becca came up behind him.

“You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He just changed.”

“Do you remember when?” I asked again.

“I guess around the time of the murder.” She shrugged.

Dean and I looked at each other, and he started toward Sam.

“So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed.”

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal.” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’.”

“So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?”

Dean shook his head. “No. Probably not. But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed.

“So, the tape. The security footage, you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.” Dean turned to Becca.

She grinned. I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop.” Dean laughed as she kept going. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

                                                        ***

“Here he comes.” Becca pointed.

“22:04. That’s just after ten.” I noticed, looking to Dean.

He was sitting next to me, on the floor. Sam and Becca were on the couch, and the laptop in front of us was playing the video tape Becca had taken.

“You said the time of death was about 10:30.” Dean looked over his shoulder at Becca.

She nodded. “Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with.”

I looked to Sam, who seemed to notice something on the tape.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?”

“Oh, sure.” She got up.

“Hey.” Sam called, and she turned around. “Maybe some sandwiches too?” He smiled hopefully.

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

“I wish.” Dean mumbled.

I moved to sit next to Sam. “What is it, Sams?” 

“Check this out.” He rewound it, and slowed it down.

Zack looked straight at the camera, and his eyes glinted silver. Sam paused it, and I gasped.

“Hey, maybe it’s just a camera flare.”

I shook my head. “That’s not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen.”

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul.” Sam looked to Dean.

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing.”

Sam nodded. “Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him.”

I perked up. “Like a Doppelganger.”

“Yeah! It’d sure explain how he was two places at once.” Sam’s eyes went wider and he smiled.

                                                        ***

“Alright, so what are we doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning?” Dean yawned.

“I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out.” Sam stumbled out of the car.

“So, he came out the back door?” Dean got out and leaned against Baby’s hood.

“Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.” Sam explained.

“Cause they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside. I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning.” Dean emphasized, but Sam ignored him.

“Blood.” He noted, staring at a telephone pole. “Somebody came this way.”

“Yeah, but the trail ends. I don’t see anything over here.” Dean announced as we checked out the alleyway.

An ambulance zoomed past, sirens wailing. Dean and I looked at each other, then at Sam.

                                                        ***

We stood in front of the house, watching as an Asian man was handcuffed and crammed into a police car. I hugged Dean’s arm.

“What do you think happened?” I asked him.

“He tried to kill his wife.” A woman turned around. “Tied her up and beat her.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nodded. “I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.”

The car drove off, the man inside looking like he was going to be sick. The boys and I looked at each other.

                                                        ***

I looked inside the other garbage can and found nothing. I dropped the lid back on and snorted, trying to get the rotting smell out of my nose.

“Hey.” Dean called.

We turned around. “Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

“Definitely our kind of problem.” Dean sighed.

“What’d you find out?” I asked.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked.”

“So he was in two places at once.”

Dean nodded and continued.

“So he sees himself in the house, police think he’s a nutjob.”

“Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way.” Sam remarked.

“Could be the same thing doing it, too.” Dean suggested.

“Shapeshifter. Something that can make itself look like anyone.”

Dean nodded. “Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves.” Sam sighed.

“We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood.” Dean sighed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he looked around.

“Let me ask you this- in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” Sam asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Olive and I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.” Sam pointed.

“Just like your friend’s house.” Dean noted.

I nodded. “Yeah. And, just like at Zack’s house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared.”

Dean thought for a minute. “Well, there’s another way to go. Down.”

We looked down at our feet and saw a manhole cover, slightly ajar. I sighed.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes, bug, we have to.”

“If the smell doesn’t come out you two are buying me a new flannel.” I grumbled.

                                                        ***

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.” Sam was first in line, shining the flashlight ahead of us.

“I think you’re right. Look at this.” He pointed to something and bent down.

It was a pile of blood and skin. I groaned, feeling like I was going to throw up. I gagged, and Dean stood up, pushing me aside.

“You’re fine. Don’t look.”

He bent back down, and I shook my head in disgust as he pulled out his pocket knife and held up a strip of skin. It had hair stuck to it. 

“Is this from his victims?” Sam was confused.

“Ya know, this is really fucking gross, but-”

“What if the shapeshifter sheds?”

I nodded as Dean completed my thoughts.

“That is fucking gross.” Sam wrinkled his nose.

                                                        ***

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it.” Dean leaned against the car.

“Silver bullet to the heart.” I nodded.

Dean smiled proudly, ruffling my hair.

“That’s right, sweetpea.”

Sam’s phone began to ring, and he picked it up without looking. “This is Sam.”

A pause. “We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out.” Another pause. “What are you talking about?” Another. “Why would you do that?” His face paled. “We’re trying to help.” He sighed. “Bec, I’m sorry, but-”

Sam sighed, looking down as he pocketed his phone.

“I hate to say it, Sam, but that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You lie to your friend because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just… it’d be easier if-”

“If I was like you.” Sam’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Hey, man. Like it or not, we are not like other people. But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig?” Dean raised an eyebrow and held up a gun. “It ain’t without perks.”

Sam only sighed and tucked the gun into the back of his waistband. I took the other from Dean’s hold, and he loaded the last one before tucking it into his jacket.

                                                        ***

“I think we’re close to its lair.” Dean’s face scrunched up.

Sam didn’t look back. “Why do you say that?”

I grimaced, shining my flashlight as I spoke. “Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face.”

“Oh, God!” Sam exclaimed as he turned, eye level with the pile of bloody, hairy skin on the pipe next to him.

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while.” Dean shone his flashlight into the corner, where there was a pile of clothes.

“Who knows how many murders the fucker’s gotten away with?” I scoffed.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, tugging me into his side.

I turned to see the shapeshifter, still in the form of Alex, the guy from earlier. Dean got sucker punched in the face, and Sam shot after the shifter as it ran. I bent down, pulling Dean to his feet.

“Sam, go get the son of a bitch!” Dean hissed.

We followed after it, up the ladder and out the manhole, into the street. The boys and I looked around. I groaned. The sudden sprints and tugging myself up the ladder had brought back the old pain in my ankle from the Wendigo hunt.

“Alright, let’s split up. Olive, up.” Sam nodded, pulling me onto his back.

“Meet you around the other side.” Dean pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before walking off in the other direction.

Sam had his gun hidden inside his jacket, and I had mine tucked between my front and Sam’s back. We found nobody on the street that could’ve been the shifter, and nothing to indicate where he had gone. We waited on the street corner where we had split apart from Dean. I sighed from my perch on Sam’s back.

“Hey? Anything?” Dean’s voice came from behind.

“No.” I shook my head and sighed. “He’s gone.”

“Alright, let’s get back to the car.” Dean nodded.

Sam and I crossed the street, but a car cut Dean off. He caught up after, and we reached Baby. Sam put me down on the hood, and I winced.

“You alright?” Dean asked.

I only nodded. “You think he found another way underground?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, probably. You got the keys?”

I froze. Dean never gave me the keys. Why would he ask if I had them? I looked up at him, and under the light of the lamppost, saw that his eyes weren’t like they normally were. The pattern in them was wrong, looking almost like the diamonds of a snake as opposed to the waves of green that were his. I smiled.

“Sam’s got them.”

“Hey, didn’t Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?” I caught Sam’s eye and gave him a face of panic.

“Oh, that was Austin.” The shifter cut on. “It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection, remember?”

Sam caught my glance and nodded, gesturing to his gun. “Oh right. Here ya go.” He tossed the shifter the keys.

He opened the trunk and looked at the weaponry. He laughed, eyes growing wide.

“Don’t move!” Sam shouted, and we both pointed out guns at him.

“What did you do with him?” I growled.

“Guys, chill. It’s me, alright?” The shifter looked at me.

“No, I don’t think so.” Sam hissed.

“You’re not him. Where the fuck is our brother?”

“You’re about to shoot him. Sam, Olive, calm down.”

“You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt.” Sam accused.

The shifter scoffed. “Yeah, it’s better. What do you want me to do, cry?”

“You’re not our brother.” Sam shook his head.

“Why don’t you pull the trigger, then? Hm? ‘Cause you’re not sure. Guys, you know me.” The shifter put a hand up, a crowbar glinting by his side.

“Don’t.” Sam growled.

I hissed from my perch on the hood. I could kill him, because I knew it wasn’t Dean. No way on fucking earth was this Dean. But if I killed him, how would we find where he stashed the real Dean?

The shifter hit Sam with the crowbar, then hit him again. I screamed for him, and the shifter moved toward me, hitting my arm. I screamed, and his hand clapped over my mouth. He looked like Dean, but he smelled like death. I dug my teeth into his skin, and a chunk easily slid off. I gagged as it slipped into my mouth.

“You fucking bitch!”

I bit down harder, shaken to the core by Dean’s loving voice cursing at me with malice. I felt metal against my head and I was out like a light.

                                                        ***

“Where is he?” I heard Sam.

I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I opened my eyes wearily to see my head in Sam’s lap. He was tied to a wood beam, neck and wrists bound. The shifter pranced over and backhanded him. Sam groaned, and I looked back up to him.

“Where’s Dean?” I coughed out.

“I wouldn’t worry about him, princess. I’d worry about you.” The shifter snarled.

“Where is he?” Sam asked again.

“You don’t really wanna know.” The shifter chuckled. “I swear, the more I learn about you and your family… I thought I came from a bad background.

Sam couldn’t move his head, but I knew he was trying to look down at me.

“What do you mean, learn?” We asked in unison.

The shifter stopped pacing, he grabbed his head and hissed, pained. The shifter straightened, then squatted in front of us.

“He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. With a child.” He pointed to me. “You don’t think I had dreams of my own? You think I wanted to be a father? You think I wanted to raise a kid? No. But Olive needed me. Dad needed me. Where the hell were you? And you.” He pointed to me. “You stupid little bitch. Just can’t live a day without big brother, now, can you? Always gotta be by his side, up his ass. Such a pain. Can’t have a minute alone without you stuck by my side, clawing and begging and whining like a pathetic, fucking, little, lost puppy.” He snarled, and by the passion of his pain, I was almost convinced it was Dean.

“Where’s my brother?” I raised my voice.

The shifter leaned into my face, the wrong eyes glinting in the dim lighting.

“Oh sweetpea, I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous of Sammy here. He’s got friends. He could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me.” He backed away.

Sam squirmed. “What are you talking about?”

“You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothing, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. Left me with a goddamn kid.” It was another snarl. “But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks.” A little laugh. “I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens.” He smiled, and threw a sheet over us. 

We waited until his footsteps disappeared, and then I let out a frustrated groan.

“God fucking damnit. Dean!” I shouted, biting at the sheet and ripping it off of us.

“That better be you, Ollie, and not that freak of nature.” I heard Dean’s growl, and my chest swelled with joy.

“Yeah, De, it’s us!” Sam called out with a laugh.

“Dean, he went to Becca’s, looking like you.” I called.

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one.” Sam’s face drew back and I laughed, sitting up. 

My wrists were tied to Sam’s ankles, but luckily were behind my back. Sam was working at the ropes around his hands, and I couldn’t see Dean, but I knew he was too.

“Yeah, that’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you.” Sam sighed.

I wormed my wrists free of the rope.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked as I turned to untie Sam.

“I don’t know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories.” I grunted.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” Dean asked, his voice echoing across pipes.

“Yeah, something like that. I mean, maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us.” Sam hissed as I got his neck free.

“Maybe he needs to keep us alive. Psychic connection.” Dean tapped his forehead, and untangled the ropes from Sam’s ankles.

“Hands.” Sam pleaded.

Dean took over and untied his hands while I looked his face over, sighing at the cut on his cheekbone and the bruise forming above his eyebrow.

“Come on, we gotta go. He’s probably at Becca’s already.” Sam grunted, shuffling to his feet.

                                                        ***

“Come on, we gotta find a phone, call the police.” Sam pulled me out through the window and onto the street.

“Whoa!” Dean was left stranded, hanging half out the window.

“Hey, no!” I grabbed Sam’s wrist. “You’ll put an APB out on Dean.”

Sam shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Alright, come on.” Dean grabbed my hand and pulled me across the street.

We made it across the street, unsuspected. There was a TV in the store window ahead of us, a news report blaring red.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home.”

A bad sketch of Dean followed, nose all wrong and eyes not wide enough.

“Man! That’s not even a good picture.” Dean groaned.

Sam hit his arm as we looked around, making sure we weren’t attracting attention.

“It’s good enough, Dean.” I scowled, grabbing him by the wrist and following Sam as he walked off into an alley.

“Man.” Dean grumbled again.

Dean stepped into a puddle and groaned. I looked down to see him barefoot, and I laughed. He glared at me.

“Aw, come on, De. They said attempted murder. At least we know-”

“That I didn’t kill her.” Dean sighed.

“We’ll check with Becca in the morning, see if she’s all right.” Sam nodded.

“Alright, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him.”

Sam stopped walking, exasperated. “We have no weapons. No silver bullets.

”Sams, the guy’s walkin’ around with Dean’s face, and he cursed me out.” I hit his arm.

“It’s a little personal, I wanna find him.”

Sam gave in. “Okay. Where do we look?

“Well, we could start with the sewers.”

“Dean. Again, we have no weapons. He stole our guns, we need more.”

“The car.”

Dean’s nostrils flared in disgust. “I’m betting he drove over to Becca’s.”

Sam nodded. “The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there.”

Dean pouted. “The thought of him driving my car.”

“Alright, come on.” Sam pulled us along.

“It’s killing me.” He whined.

“Let’s just go, De.” I held a hand out, and he took it.

We walked in silence, until Sam perked up. “How’d you know it wasn’t Dean?” He asked over his shoulder. “I mean, I saw your face, and then the arm proved us right, but… how’d you know?” He stopped walking.

I shrugged. “Well, one, he asked if I had the keys. De never gives me the keys. And two, his eyes were all wrong.”

“His eyes?” Dean echoed.

I nodded, now sandwiched between Sam and Dean. “They just weren’t right. Didn’t look like your eyes.”

Sam hummed, impressed. Dean grinned, ruffling my hair. “That’s my girl.”

                                                        ***

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight!” Dean sighed, relieved at the sight of the car.

A police car rolled up, parking right next to Baby.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Fuck.” I tightened my grip on his hand.

Sam turned around. “Oh shit.”

There was another car a few yards back. Dean grabbed me and pushed me ahead of him. “This way, this way. Let’s go.” He pointed ahead, to a fence.

“You two go. I’ll hold ‘em off.” Sam boosted me onto the fence.

“What?” I squirmed, balancing on the wood.

“Sam, they’ll catch you.” Dean’s eyes went wide.

”Look, they can’t hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Becca’s.” Sam reassured.

I hopped over the fence, and Dean began after me.

“Dean! Olive! Stay out of those sewers.” Sam called.

Dean looked at me and rolled his eyes, landing on his feet next to me.

“I mean it!” Sam thumped the wood and Dean rolled his eyes again, grabbing me by the hand.

“Yeah, yeah!” He tugged me along.

I heard a police officer yell at Sam, and I bit my lip with a wince. Dean pulled me to follow as we ran.

                                                        ***

“We’re sorry, Sam. But you know us. We just can’t wait.” Dean mumbled as we pulled the spare guns from the trunk.

I took the last two and tucked them into my pants, shutting the trunk. I slid the silver knife into my boot, clenching my jaw.

“Ready, baby?”

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be, De.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

                                                        ***

I flashed the light, trying to keep my hand steady. We had been in the sewers for at least an hour, and the smell of decay had sunk so far into my nose that I became used to it.

I shone the flashlight to the other opening, and I almost barfed. Dean looked over my shoulder and groaned. There was a room off to the side, lit with multiple candles, chains everywhere. Piles of the same hairy, bloody, and now slimy-looking, skin lined the floor. There was a clatter of chains, and my gun flew up. Dean stepped in front of me and grabbed one hand.

“Stay behind me.” He ordered, taking a finger and hooking it onto his belt loop.

I followed him through the dripping tunnels, ducking when he did to avoid pipes, even though he stood a head taller than me. We followed the noise through to another room. Someone coughed, and our heads snapped to a figure under a dirty, tattered sheet. She coughed again, and my eyes widened. I recognized that cough.

“Becca!” I tore the sheet off her.

Dean pulled me away. “It might not be her. Knife.” He held a hand out.

Becca’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to scream.

“Becca, no! Please. It’s us, I swear it’s really us. We just need to make sure that it’s really you.” I comforted, holding her by the shoulders.

Dean sighed, and pressed the flat end of the blade against her bare shoulder. There was no reaction, and we sighed in relief.

“Okay. Okay, you’re okay. Knife.” I held my hand out, and he gave it back to me.

I cut Becca out of her ropes. “What happened?”

She began to cry as we held her steady. “I was walking home, and everything just went white.” She whimpered. “Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into me. I don’t know, how is that even possible?” She shuddered.

“Okay, okay. It’s okay.” Dean tried to soothe her. “Come on. Can you walk?” He asked.

She nodded. “Okay, okay. We’ve gotta hurry. Sams went to see you.” I pulled her up.

She groaned, and Dean grunted, pulling her into his side. We took off through the tunnels, rushing to save Sam.

                                                        ***

“Hey!” I shouted.

The shifter, again as Dean, pushed himself off Sam. He got up, and came my way. I shot twice, nailing him in the heart both times. I watched as the color behind his eyes drained, and he fell to the ground. I dropped the gun and began to shake.

“Sam!” Becca ran to Sam, and Dean grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me around.

“Hey. Hey, hey baby girl. Hi, it’s okay. I’m right here. I am right here. I’m okay. It’s okay.” He pulled me into a hug.

I whimpered. He let me go, and I moved to Sam. He sat up and hugged me as Dean went to the shifter. Dean snatched something off the shifter’s neck and nodded back to us.

                                                        ***

Dean and I were by the car. I was sitting on the hood, slumped against his arm. He was looking at a map of the US.

“I’m sorry you had to do that, babes.” He whispered.

“I’m just glad you and Sams are okay.” I shrugged.

“You’re an amazing hunter. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed the side of my head.

Becca waved to us, and we waved back. She headed back inside the house, and Sam came back to the car.

“So what about Zack?” I asked.

“Cops are blaming this freak Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with.” Sam shrugged.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Becca says Zack’s gonna be released soon.”

“Come on, babes. Time to go.” Dean kissed my head again, and I smiled before crawling into the car.

                                                        ***

“Sorry, man.” Dean’s voice was a whisper.

“About what?” Sam’s hands were running through my hair.

I was crumpled between the boys, head against Sam’s chest. They thought I was sleeping, and I preferred it that way.

“I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be… Joe College.” Dean sighed.

Sam’s hand stopped, and then he sighed. “No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in.”

I could hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. And so is Olive.” Dean poked my nose.

Sam laughed, and he dropped his head against mine.

“Yeah, I know you two are.” He sighed.

“You know, I gotta say… I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it.” Dean squeezed my leg.

“Miss what?” I opened my eyes.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” Dean smiled down at me, then up to Sam.

Sam kissed my head again and Dean looked back to the road as we kept driving.

Previous Ep: Bloody Mary (1.05)

Next Up: Dean the Birthday Boy

Next Ep: Hook Man

#supernatural sister #supernatural oc #supernatural ocs #supernatural cast #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural season one #supernatural imagine #olive winchester #micaelawrites #my posts #dean and sam #sam and dean #sam winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x sister!reader #sam x sister!reader #sam x sister!oc #sam winchester x sister!oc #dean x sister!oc #dean winchester x sister!oc #john winchester #john winchester x daughter!reader #john winchester x daughter!oc #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jeffery dean morgan #winchester #winchester sister #supernatural

[s-trawberryv-eins]

An Introduction

(NOT MY GIF)

AN INTRODUCTION TO CAROLINE STARK

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! So, after months of waffling about wanting to write, I finally sat down and did it. It’s pretty complicated, so it’s pretty important to read this one before you start with anything else. I’ve created an original character, who lives in a slightly alternative universe to the one we were left with after Endgame. I’d like to state that none of my personal changes are reflections of my opinions of what DID happen, but in order to build her as I wish, some things needed to be slightly different.

1)    Steve didn’t go back to Peggy after he returned the stones

2)    Hulk and Banner didn't become one, they’re still two separate beings

3)    Natasha was brought back by Steve as he was able to return the soul stone in return for her life

4)    The compound was rebuilt after the Battle of Earth. There is a memorial for Tony where he died.

A few other things to note:

1)    My first piece of writing will be a background that is applicable to all of the fics. However, many of them will be stand alone, unless I state otherwise. I’ll be creating a masterlist which will lay everything out very clearly, but please feel free to ask if you need to 😊

 Thanks for reading the boring stuff. Everything will be up soon!

 Summary: An introduction to the secret Stark sister. Who is she? Why was she kept a secret? And what happens when everybody finds out?

 Warnings: Abandonment, injury, PTSD, death, blood, but there's plenty of soft love too.

 Word count: 1921

 SUMMER 2004

MALIBU, CALIFORNIA

"Yes, yes, two seconds!" Tottering over to the front door of her bosses lavish Malibu home, Pepper Potts grumbled under her breath, annoyed by the fact that she was the one answering the incessant knocking. "I’m not your maid, Tony!” Sighing, she unlocked the door and prepared to shoo whichever reporter, play bunny, or cold caller had decided that 10 PM on a Tuesday evening was a good time to show up. However, she was greeted with something entirely unexpected.

“Oh! Hello! Are you lost? Where’s your Mom?" In front of Miss Potts stood a small girl, 7 years of age, a sparkly pink bag held tightly in her little hand. Pepper greeted the young girl with the cheeriest voice she could manage in her surprise. Sticking her head out of the door, she looked around, but with a furrowed brow she realised that they were alone. There wasn’t another figure or car in sight.

“Momma said I had to give you this." In her tiny outstretched hand was a thick envelope. "She said my Daddy lives here.” The look on her face told Pepper that she knew exactly what had happened. Even as young as she was, she had an obvious maturity that would break hearts. Her mother had abandoned her, and the girl understood that entirely.

With eyes so wide it hurt, Pepper took the envelope, peeking inside to find a passport, a letter, and a photograph of Mr Stark and a woman. The girls' mother, Pepper presumed. Shock was written into the PAs face, but she forced a smile all the same. After a quick look at the passport, she ushered the child inside.

"Come on in, Caroline. We’ll sort you out, okay?”

 LATE 2008

NEW YORK

A series of loud bangs on her bedroom door pulled Caroline from her daydream. Not even having a chance to respond, the door burst open and three young girls practically fell into her room.

“Turn the TV on!"

“As if you weren’t famous enough!"

“Did you know? You must've known?!"

Wide eyed and clueless as to what her friends were talking about, Caroline blinked back gormlessly as Amelie grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.

“What channel?“

“Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" The 11-year-old spoke up, and all three heads turned to face her, humour in their eyes as they stated what was seemingly obvious.

“Your dad, Care.” Caroline knew her Father had been in some trouble. Happy had shown up outside the halls of residence, whisking her away immediately. The panic set in as her heart sped up violently. As the girls scrambled through the channels, they froze as a man in a suit appeared on the screen. Caroline's dad. Tony Stark. They watched in awe as he addressed his audience. As his daughter, she'd watched a few press conferences before. They were a bore, however, she couldn't lie.

The TV remote fell from Amelie’s hand as he spoke the four words that changed history.

“I am Iron Man.”

 MAY 2012

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Footage of the Chitauri destroying the very ground she stood on flashed through Caroline’s mind. Gripping Happy’s arm as she sobbed, the 14-year-old girl cried out desperately for her Father. Their relationship had been very rocky for a while. He’d rejected his new responsibility at first, leaving Pepper to parent the girl. He’d even shipped her off to boarding school, where he further pushed away his long-lost child. It wasn’t until Pepper dragged him by the sleeve to the young girl’s dorm room and forced him inside that he’d actually spoken to his daughter. From there, they established a solid relationship. Caroline, of course, fell head over heels for her Father. He could do no wrong in her eyes. That never changed, even as she grew.

Fear wracked her body at the thought of Tony not surviving the battle. Staring at the sky, she prayed and prayed that he return from that giant swirling hole of death that currently dominated New York. When she saw his body fall through the sky, her fear both vanished and increased ten-fold.

-

Later that evening, JARVIS informed her of her Fathers arrival at the beaten-up tower. Racing to find him, she threw her arms around his neck and cried. She cried and cried until she ran out, but she never let go of his hand.

 MAY 2015

NOVI GRAD, SOKOVIA

“Daddy?” Her voice came out a whimper. She felt weak and small.

“Hey baby girl, I’m uh…I’m guessing you’ve seen, right? Yeah, it’s bad, Care.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Listen, baby, I’ve gotta end this. Me and Thor, uh, we think we’ve got a way. A lot of people will die if we don’t do this. You're the best thing, you know?" His voice was soft, even as he continued to fight off robots and save the world. The line grew staticky and Caroline couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from her eyes. "I'm so glad you showed up on my doorstep all those years ago. I’m sorry for taking so long."

“Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye? Daddy you're scaring me!” Her voice was a desperate whimper, and a pain in her chest bloomed violently.

“I love you, Caroline. Remember th-" Horror erupted over her features as the line went dead. Not knowing whether she'd ever see him again, she made her way to New York, her heart dragging painfully behind her.

 NEW YEARS EVE 2015

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Caroline and her Father walked through one of the many laboratories of the new compound. On her 18th birthday the Stark girl was offered a position as a biomechanical engineer for the new era S.H.I.E.L.D. program, built following its collapse in 2014. Taking after her Dad, she had excelled in school, and to the amazement of her new bosses, had landed a glowing recommendation from Iron Man himself. The decision for her to live under a different last name to Tony was one he himself had requested in a bid to keep her safe for as long as he could. She had never really met the other Avengers, and only three other people knew of her existence; Pepper, Happy, and Natasha Romanoff. It was easy enough to hide her identity.

Caroline didn’t mind too much. She could still see her parents as much as she pleased, and it prevented any special treatment from schools and professors. Those around Caroline herself knew; her school friends knew, she didn't want to keep a secret from them, and besides, she didn't know any better when she told them at 8 years old.

“How’re you settling in? Are you sure this isn’t too soon? This is too soon. I’m taking you-“ midway through his rambling, Tony realised his daughter both lived and worked at the compound, rendering his threat useless. "I'll take you somewhere. Details, schmetails."  

“Dad! Calm down! You’re spiralling. I’m fine, I’m settling in just fine! Now come on, I need to meet everyone.” A proud smile graced the young girls features as she tried to rid her rather of any worry. With a sigh, he took his daughters hand in his own and led her to the Avengers quarters. Separating just before they entered the room, Caroline took a shaky breath.

“Folks gather round. This is our new Doc. With Banner MIA," his brows drew together as he spoke, and his gaze fell to the floor for a second before finding Caroline "she’s our go to! This is Caroline. Caroline Lockwood.”  A half smile appeared on his face, the bittersweet moment getting the best of him. After a few brief introductions, the girl bid them goodbye to get ready for one of Tony Starks famous New Year’s Eve parties.

 JUNE 2018

AVENGERS COMPOUND

UPSTATE NEW YORK

Pepper sat with her daughter, a blanket around the two of them as they hid. They sat in silence, unable to find the words. Trying to maintain hope when everything around them told them to give up was the hardest battle they'd fought yet. “Momma? We’ll be fine, right? We always win.” Her voice nothing but a whisper in the darkness, she felt her adoptive mothers’ fingers tighten around her own.

“We'll be fine, baby. Your Dad will do what he always does. He'll save us. He'll save everybody.” The sad smile on Caroline's face couldn’t be seen in the dark, but Pepper could tell the moment that it fell. She felt the energy in the air shift. Did they lose? “Baby? Baby what’s wrong?" Placing her soft hands either side of her daughter’s face, she gasped sharply as the blanket fell around them, no longer supported by two bodies. Instead, a dark ash took the place of the youngest Stark.

“I’m sorry, Momma" she choked out before disintegrating completely "I'm sorry.”

Pepper was left alone, covered in heartbreak, grief, and the ashes her child left behind.

OCTOBER 2023

ATLANTA, GEORGIA

"Hey, sweetie. Do you want Mom?" Morgan shook her head and stepped closer to her sister.

“Can you help me? You’re my sister.” With sad, glazed over eyes, Caroline nodded. It's not difficult to sympathise with the two girls. Morgan knew all about her big sister. Stories were told, and pictures were framed in every inch of the house. Morgan idolised her before she’d ever met her. And when, by some miracle, they did meet, it was a few days before their fathers’ funeral. Two days before that, Caroline had been dead.

Dead.

It'd been one hell of a week.

To say the oldest Stark sister walked on eggshells around the younger one would be an understatement. Allowing their relationship to be on Morgan’s terms was the least she could do. The thought that Morgan may reject her completely never left her mind, despite Peppers constant reassurance. “I can braid your hair, if you’d like. Momma taught me when I was a little girl."

-

"Where's Morgan?" Pepper's voice barely registered in Caroline’s brain. She could feel herself drifting further and further away every day. But she didn't have the strength to fight it.

“Happy took her for cheeseburgers.” A hint of smile traced her mouth, but it didn't stick. It never stuck. The bags under her eyes were heavy and dark, and the once rich brown of her eyes seemed to have dulled miserably. After receiving her own private recording from Stark, she felt as if she'd broken completely. Turning to face Pepper, she struggled to continue, her voice hoarse from crying and screaming in the night. "They should be back an-"

“MOMMY SISSY UNCLE HAPPY BOUGHT EXTRA.” Watching the tiny girl stumble through the door, a brown paper bag clutched tightly to her chest, Caroline just stared in awe. Of course, Morgan was too young to really understand what happened. She missed her Daddy, and she knew he wasn’t coming home, but she managed to smile. Her eyes shined bright as ever. The world hadn't tainted her hope, it hadn’t torn away her faith.

It would be so, so easy to just let go. To just give up and fall into the oblivion that called her name. But in doing so, she'd miss even more time with her sister. Watching her eat with a pensive look on her face, clutching on to Pepper and watching all the strangers around her, Caroline made a choice. She could do it for Morgan. She could hold on and keep going.

So, she did.

TAGS:

@bucky-castiel​

#marvel #mcu #tony stark #iron man #pepper potts #morgan stark #the avengers #fanfiction #ironman #captain america #the winter soldier #hawkeye #hulk #black widow #writing #angst #fluff #love #smut #series #original character #oc #Stark!OC #please read #oh god #my first one #requests are always open #please tell me what I do wrong #tumblr #art

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

Too young too dumb to know things like love

Summary: I fell from a rift of reality. No memory of what my life was before. The only thing I seem to remember was my name. Now I live with the Winchester, Jack and Castiel. Along with training both Jack and I to become hunter I help Jack control his powers. 

I decided to change out of my clothes while we were coming up with next step of action. I wasn’t the only one Sam, Dean and Jack change out of their suits. I was sitting on the couch in between Jack and Cas. I was helping Jack do more research on the case.  Dean took a beer out from the fridge and opened it. “Can I just say that I’m getting real sick and tired of fighting things that look like other thing?” Dean said as he threw the bottle cap of the beer into the trash. “Maybe the ghoul is this Athena.” Cas suggested. “Yeah. A ghoul who owns a mortuary. That’s smart but.” Sam said. “No. She’s got access to the bodies before they’re ever in the ground. Anything she wants she would just take. She doesn’t have to dig ‘em back up.” Dean said. “Right.” Sam said. “I think I found something. I tracked the plates on the stolen truck from the crime scene and I went through the city’s traffic camera footage and look. This is it.” Jack said turning the laptop around to show Sam and Dean. “From yesterday before the deputy was killed. “ Jack said. “Well then who’s driving?” Dean asked. Jack pressed a key to zoom in. “Holy crap. That’s Dave Mather.” Dean said. “Who?” Sam and Cas asked at the same time. “Dave Mather. Cowboy. Outlaw. One of the Dodge City gang. “ Dean said going up to take a picture off the wall and handed it to Cas. Both jack and I looked at the picture. “He was one of the greatest gunfighters ever. I mean he died in 1886 which makes this a little weird but… Mysterious Dave Mather. I’m gonna get my boots on. One of the best gunslingers ever! Whoo!” Dean said as he hurried out of the room to get his boots on. I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head. “How bad is this going to be?” I asked. “I don’t know but whatever happened you need to stay behind one of us.” Sam told me. I just nodded my head.  “So our ghoul ate some old west gunfighter and stole his face?” Dean asked as he walked back into the room with two guns and handed one to Sam. “That’s what it looks like.” Sam said. “Ha.” Dean laughed. “I think I’ve seen him before. There was a picture at the mortuary. Y/n do you remember?” Jack said. The more that I looked at the picture of him it hit me that there was a picture of him with Athena at the mortuary. “He’s Athena’s boyfriend.” Jack said. We all left the hotel room and got into the impala as we made our way back to the mortuary. Jack, Cas and I stayed in the impala while Sam and Dean went to go talk to Athena. They were gone for about ten minutes before they gave back and told us where Athena told them where Dave went. 

When we got to the bank Dean told me what Sam had already told no matter what happens to stay behind one of them. I stayed close to Jack and Cas like I have been.  I watched as the ghoul walked out of the bank. “Dave Mather. Robbing a bank. That’s a bold move.” Dean said as he pointed his gun a the ghoul. Dave remove the bandanna from his face as he made his way to his car. “You must be the hunter?” Dave said and pointed at Dean. “And you must like to play cowboy.” Dean said. “It’s my favorite suit. You know I like to keep a little piece of old Dave on me just to gnaw on.” Dave said. Sam cocked his gun which made him notice us. Dave laughed. “Let’s make it two, three, four Hunters! And look you have a little shrimp with you.” Dave said as he looked at us.  I knew the little shrimp comment was meant towards me. “Whoo! Must be my birthday.” Dave said. “Look why don’t you come with us someplace else? We can do this quick and quiet.” Sam said. Dave just smirked as he pulled out and a gun making Sam shot at him hitting him in the shoulder. Then a shot out started to happened. I felt Jack grab my hand as pulled me over to the carriage so that we could take cover. “Are you two alright?” Cas asked the two of us. “Yeah.” Jack said and I nodded. “Okay you two stay here.” Cas said. “No, It’s okay. I’ve got this.” Jack said getting up and made his way over to the gunfire. “No Jack. Jack!” Cas said as he went after him. I wanted to go help but I decided it would be best for me to stay where I was since I was safer right here. “Hey!” Jack yelled to catch Dave’s attention. “Jack! Jack!” Cas yelled trying to stop Jack. I looked to see Jack get shot twice. I put my hand to my mouth as I screamed in horror. “What the Hell?” Dave said. Then this surge of energy left Jack making Dave and a security guard from the bank who happened to walked out and the wrong time back. The security guard hit his head on a metal column. I could hear a crack from where I was I knew that it’s wasn’t going to be good. “No.” Jack said as I got out from behind the carriage to go over to where he and Cas were. “Check the guard!” Dean said to Sam as he went after Dave who left on foot. “No!” Jack said as he ran over to guard and I ran after him. The guard was severely bleeding from the back of his head. “Cas I-I didn’t mean to. Castiel you have to heal him.” Jack said look at Cas with a pained looked on his face. Cas kneel down putting a hand on the man’s forehead. I then started to hear a ringing and thunder. Then nothing happened. Cas stood back up and looked at Jack. That is when I grabbed ahold of his hand knowing what Cas was more than likely about to say. “I can’t.” Cas said. “W- why not?” Jack asked. Sam checked to see if the guard had a pulse. “He’s dead.” Sam said as he looked up at us. I felt Jack squeeze my hand tightly. 

After making an excuse of what happened we went back to the hotel. I stayed close to Jack because I knew that he was still really upset about what happened. We were still holding hands and my head was on his shoulder. It started to storm. I could tell that Sam, Dean and Cas were watching us as I comforted Jack. “Come on you two. We’re heading back to the bunker.” Cas said as he walked up to us. I looked over to Cas and nodded. “Come on Jack you heard Cas. It’s going to be fine.” I said as I took my head off of shoulder. Jack looked at me giving me a small nod and got up from the couch getting his things ready. I followed right behind him and packed. Dean left to go take care of Dave while Sam, Cas, Jack and I got in another car and started to journey back to the bunker. Jack and I both sat in the back seat for the ride we still were holding hands. Jack has barely let my hand go since it happened. I saw Sam look back to us. “Jack you uh. You okay?” Sam asked. Jack didn’t say anything he just keep looking forward. “Jack. I’ve killed people who didn’t deserve it my friends. I’ve killed people I loved. I wish I could tell you that it- that it gets easier that with time it hurts less but that would be a lie because it never gets easier. And those moments they never stop hurting. But that doesn’t mean that you should stop fighting. Doesn’t mean that just because you made a mistake and that’s what this is Jack. It’s a mistake. That doesn’t believe that you can’t- can’t be better do better. I believe that. I have to believe that.” Cas said. “And we still believe in you Jack. We uh-.” Sam said. “ Stop. Just. Please Stop.” Jack said as he squeezed my hand tightly. 

The rest of the ride was quiet. By the time we arrived back to the bunker dean told us that he got ride of the ghoul with the help of another officer.  Dean didn’t come back until, the afternoon of the next day. Jack hasn’t let me leave his side. He pushed Sam and Cas away whenever they tried to talk to him about what happened. Jack and I were sitting at a table by ourselves. Jack’s arms were crossed on the talbe and I had one arm linked with his and my head was on his shoulder. I heard the door open then closed. “Hey.” I heard Sam say to dean. “Hey.” Dean said back as he was coming down the stairs. “How’d it go?” Sam asked him. “Usual. Killed the bad guy saved the girl. “Dean said. “What about the uh-?” Sam asked. “Took care of it.” Dean said. “Good.” Sam said. “Good? How is that good? I killed someone.” Jack said getting up and started to walk towards the guys. I got up and followed him in hopes to calm him down if this goes south. “What was his name? The guard? Did he have a family?” Jack asked as he climb down the few steps that lead to where the guys were. I was standing by his side. “Jack don’t do this to yourself.” Cas said. “No did he?” Jack asked. “Yes he did.” Dean said. I went to grab his hand but he yanked it away before I could. “Jack look this life what we do it’s- it’s not easy. And we’ve all done things we regret.” Sam said as he walked slowly towards Jack. “Just don’t.” Jack said angrily. Sam put in hands up in defeat and slowly back away. “You’re afraid of me.” Jack said as his voice started to break. “Jack no.” Cas said. Jack turned around slowly walking away. “Jack please.” I said. “No maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just another monster.” Jack said with a pained look on his face. “Jack no you are no monster do you hear me.” I said as I slowly walked towards him. “Just stand back y/n please.” Jack said making me stop in my tracks as tears started to form in my eyes. “No you’re not. I thought you were. I did. But. Like Sam said we’ve all done bad. We all have blood on our hands. So if you’re a monster we’re all monster.” Dean said walked over towards us. “No you don’t. Every time I try and do something good people get hurt. I thought I was getting better. I’m not…I don’t know what I am but I know I can’t make the world a better place not like this. I can’t even do one good thing. And I know that if I stay I’m gonna hurt you. All of you. And I can’t. You’re all I have. “Jack said. By then tears were running down my face.  “Jack listen.” Sam said. “I have to go.” Jack said. “No Jack.” Cas said. “Jack please don’t.” I pleaded. “I’m sorry.” Jack said as he raised his hand.

I was flung back and was slammed against the floor as I heard a whooshing sound. “Jack.” Cas said. The guys all got up and started looking for jack while I stayed on the floor in tears. “Jack!” Cas yelled.  “He’s gone.” Sam said standing were jack just was. I started to cry and that is when Sam came over to me. “Hey it’s ok y/n.” Sam said kneeling down to me pulling me into his chest as I cried. “I have you. It’s ok we’re going to find him ok.” Sam said putting a hand in my hair and started to stork my hair in hopes to calm me down. I felt Sam pick me up setting me in a chair that was by the table he and Cas were just sitting out. “Are you hurt kiddo?” Dean said as he walked over to me. I shook my head as I continued to look down at the ground. “Look at me y/n.” Dean said as he kneeled in front me. I looked up at him with hair front of one side of my face. Dean reached out and moved the hair that had fallen in front of my face so he could see my face clearly. “Jack is just upset about what happened ok. We are going to find him. Everything is going to be fine.” Dean said. I nodded. Dean kissed my forehead. 

Taglist: @darkqueennox​

Overall taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​

#supernatural imagine #jack kline imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #kelsee's works #Do not reblog unless it's from me

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 103

After breakfast was plated, you thought maybe you could be next on the list for a quick shower. But after leaving Sam to go to the small bedroom to check in on Nat and Steve, things seemed a little… blue. You laid a hand on the doorway, looking at the both of them. “Everything okay?” 

Steve turned his head half back to look at you. “Depends on your definition of okay.” 

Very suddenly the both of them were smiling your way, Nat’s a little more curved. “If okay is finding out SHIELD’s been infected and we’ve been doing all the hard labor for a bunch of nazis that Steve supposedly died taking down… sure. We’re okay.” 

You couldn’t help a sigh. “Yeah. Just peachy, I’m sure. We made breakfast. Can’t plot a takedown revenge scenario on an empty stomach.”

Steve stood with a little stretch. “That what we’re doing?” 

Natasha was close behind. “I like the sound of that.” 

You led the way back out into the kitchen, a little shake of your head. “What else should we be doing? We can’t hide forever. Especially knowing SHIELD has gone off the rails. It starts with us, but it won’t end there.” 

Nat took a seat, a small murmur of gratitude as you set a plate down in front of her. “How’d you get wrapped up in this anyway? Seems like I was taking a little nap when that discussion occurred.” 

Steve sat down next to her. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

Yet another sigh escaped you. “Pierce came up to the Tower with a STRIKE squad who pulled their guns on everyone. Asked me to give the both of you up. He’s altering footage, putting together a case that Steve and I got into an argument with Fury that led us to murdering him.” 

Nat scoffed. “That’s absurd. Captain America killed a government official?” 

Sam was standing with his back against the counter, arms crossed. “You guys act like the government isn’t always doing shady stuff. So what it’s Captain America and Lady Avenger- or whatever your name is supposed to be- no offense.” 

You shrugged. “None taken.” Not like it mattered.

He continued, “They want you out of the picture, you’re out. You worked for these people. I’d have to imagine you know the lengths they’d go to. What they’re capable of.” 

Natasha hung her head, eyes lowering. “Yeah…” 

You felt that blue spread, and you tried to get ahead of it. “So Pierce wants us gone. Because he’s a Hydra piece of shit. What do we do about it?” 

Steve shook his head. “He’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star.” 

The pieces were starting to come together. You looked over at Nat. “That’s what Fury asked you to get?” The reason that Steve had stormed into the office the morning that had kickstarted this all. 

She nodded, chewing on a piece of toast. “Mn. Yeah- and you know who else was on the Lemurian Star? Jasper Sitwell.” 

You couldn’t help the face you made. While you’d had extremely brief meetings with the man, nothing of note, he’d always seemed like a weaselly little prick. Now you knew why. “STRIKE is babysitting the team so we’re on a little bit of radio silence, but Tony was working on cracking this. Might be faster, though. If we can get someone with access.” At this point you were beyond the point of asking yourself whether or not it was right to start kidnapping and beating for answers. It was time for a little revenge. 

Steve put his chin in his palm with a sigh. “So, the real question is how do the three most wanted people in Washington kidnap a SHIELD officer in broad daylight?” 

“What a fantastic question.” It was a little early for you to be feeling defeat. The team just needed a good plan. ...it just felt impossible to come up with one. “If I can get close to him I might be able to… uh- persuade him into helping our cause.” You’d never used the thing so blatantly like that before, but you were sure you could. If you tried hard enough. “Maybe we just wait him out? Follow him back to his house?” Taking him off the street was a no-go. Especially considering you’d need to concentrate. Nat shook her head. “Too much time lost. We have to make a move now, or this is only gonna get worse.” 

Sam spoke up from behind you, rustling around in one of his cabinets. “Sounds like you could use a little help.” 

The three of you looked up as he approached and laid down a folder with a picture on top- of him in gear alongside a few other soldiers. Steve looked up at him. “What’s this?” Sam crossed his arms. “Call it a resume.” 

Nat took hold of the picture. “Is this Bakhmala?” Then nodding at him, “The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you?” Seeming pretty impressed, which was always a good sign. Nudging Steve a little she smiled. “You didn't say he was a para-rescue.” 

As Steve looked at Sam, asking him something rather quietly, the folder sitting underneath the picture caught your eye. “Holy shit.” You brought the folder closer. “You piloted an EXO-7?” 

At this, Sam softly grinned at you. “There was a reason I was saluting in one of those little kiss-ass lines of yours.” 

You brought the folder closer and opened it, as Steve raised a brow. “I take it that’s a good thing?” 

Flipping through the pictures and documentation, you couldn’t help the shake of your head. “It means he’s fucking crazy. Anyone who signed up for these missions had a death wish. Tony was nuts for building these for the Guard. I think it was more of a joke at first, when they asked him. Jesus. I haven’t seen anything on them in a while.” And for good reason. 

Giving the Air National Guard fucking bird suits had been some top notch nonsense when it had been developed. You really did genuinely believe Tony had been fucking with them at first. But...

“Hey.” Sam spoke a little sternly, yet still smiling. “I’m standing right here, you know. And you’re one to talk.” Pointing a finger you way. “Don’t you fly around in a crazy suit of armor or something most days?”  

Nat caught a bit of her own smile. “We could use a little crazy right now.” 

After you passed the folder to Steve’s awaiting hand, he took a little glance through it and then shot a look up Sam’s way. “I thought you said you were a pilot.” Sam shook his head. “I never said pilot.” 

But, fun time over, Steve moved back to solemn pretty quickly. “I can't ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.” 

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There's no better reason to get back in. “ 

To this, you certainly couldn’t disagree. Whatever quarrels Sam had with the military (and you imagined they were many, and also none of your business), right now seemed like a pretty dire situation. “We’d be grateful- and lucky, I think- for your help.” Offering him a small smile of that aforementioned gratitude. 

“So…” Steve tapped the folder with his fingers. “Where can we get our hands on one of these things?” 

Sam sighed. “The last one is at Fort Meade, behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall.”

You, Natasha, and Steve all shared a long look. Gauging. And then Nat shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem.” 

                                                      -----

Fort Meade had the benefit of only being about a half hour away from Sam’s location. Though the last ten or so minutes you’d abandoned his car (for now) so you could scope out the place. Using the suit here was a little too risky, so you relied on a little more low key methods to get what you needed. It was for that reason that as the four of you maneuvered past a few of those gates, and then sidled on up to the weakest point in the perimeter that Nat held the boys at bay. 

“We’ll go in. You stay here and play lookout.” 

Steve crossed his arms. “Sounds an awful lot like you’re saying you don’t need us. Just nicer.” Smiling just a little. 

You smiled back. “Your words.” 

It was better for Sam to stay back anyway, if he got caught it would really make this whole effort useless. He was the only new face in this little band that nobody was on the lookout for. And it needed to stay that way. So you accepted the offer of a hoist up the back, and then the two of you got to work. 

First order of business was activating your visor. “LUNA can you knock out the camera and security systems?” You’d tried one more time to get Tony on the phone but it had gone right to voicemail. The babysitting squad must have been getting very intense. It was better not to think about it for now. 

As the two of you backed up against a building, Natasha gave you a look with a low voice. “Any luck? Or we doing this real old school?” Which wouldn’t be a problem, but it was riskier and would take longer. Time you didn’t have. 

You waited before answering and were gifted for your patience. “I can set a sequence reset that will knock the cameras out and take the security systems offline. But I estimate the guard sitting at the control desk will get everything back up in five minutes.” 

Looking at Nat, voice hushed, “Soon as I give the signal we have five minutes.” 

“Easy.” She grinned. 

“Okay LUNA. Let’s go…” Holding your breath and wishing the both of you luck. “...now.” 

“Initiating!” 

With one gesture, you hoisted Nat up into a back window, the absolute weakest point in the compound where they were housing the EXO, and she reached back down to hoist you up. Inside there was already trouble. A couple of officers leaving a room got startled by your presence, so the both of you backed them right into the room they’d walked out of and made quick work of putting them into the floor. Quiet. 

Once done, you both sidled out, watching your corners. Though this was a stealth mission, it was a relatively easy one. And so you felt like you had to get this off your chest. “How exactly is getting a giant bird suit supposed to help us kidnap Sitwell without anyone noticing?” 

“You know, now that you’re asking…” 

An officer turned another corner hall and upon seeing you immediately drew his weapon and started yelling. With the both of you it was easy. You came in front, wrenching his wrist and disarming him of his weapon while she got up behind him and sunk her fists into the sides of his neck, a little electrical discharge in the bracers she was wearing knocking him out. 

LUNA’s voice cut through the new silence. “You have three minutes remaining!” 

“Eyes are online in three.” You relayed the information. 

Natasha nodded and the two of you took off down the next hall. Which was probably a mistake, seeing as the vault that you were looking for was guarded by two officers toting very large guns. Guns that were immediately pointed your way. She signaled, “I got the one on the right!” 

“Going left!” For no one’s benefit you said this, if only to telegraph the wrong woman to the wrong man so that when they two of you criss-crossed over in a switch, it confused them just long enough to make quick work out of them. 

Once they were messes on the floor she snapped the badge off one of their uniforms. “Alright, let’s get a look at the bird suit.” Scanning it at the access panel. 

Just as the door opened, LUNA spoke again. “One minute!” 

You nudged Nat on the shoulder. “Gotta make this quick.” 

Though you suspected there was a lot more to see, not just here- there just wasn’t enough time. Seeing weapons that were faintly familiar line the walls did put a chill down your spine, though. Retired, hopefully. Nobody was flying EXO’s anymore, so… hopefully no one was using this stuff anymore, either. But. Seeing as it was here and not destroyed… and also not officially listed anywhere… didn’t really make you feel very good. 

Natasha yanked the harness and housing off the wall with a little noise and then turned back. “Any of this stuff look familiar?” 

“Too familiar. Tony and I will have to talk about it later.” It was true, Stark Industries had sold this junk to the army once upon a time. So that technically made it theirs, but… 

Spying a briefcase with the Sonic Taser’s designation code on top of it made you go cold. So you lifted the handle and held it to your side. Natasha gave you a questioning look as the two of you tried to make a quick go for the exit. “Good stuff?” 

“Depends on who you’re asking. Illegal. And shouldn’t be here, are two other ways I’d describe it.” Which meant there was no telling how much other shit Obi had sold to them behind your backs that you just still didn’t know about. Both them and… well. Everyone else, too. 

Would the mess ever end? 

                                                     -----

Once the four of you had booked it away from the compound as fast as humanly (or otherwise) possible and made it back to the car, Sam seemed not to be able to go fast enough, rubber burning the road. After you were far enough away and it seemed like no one was chasing you, you leaned forward from the back seat. “So, I didn’t want to like… put a wrench in our plans or anything, but how’s the bird suit gonna help us exactly?” 

“It’s called a Falcon suit. You should know that. Your boyfriend made it.” Sam looked up briefly into the rear view with one of those dry looks before he put his eyes back on the road. 

“Touchy subject.” You put your hands up in a sign of defeat. “Sorry.” It was nice to know he at least respected the gear. ...you supposed. 

Sam drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I got a plan, alright? We just need the intel. Where are we intercepting this Sitwell dude?” 

Natasha lifted her phone. “Should be leaving a meeting with Senator Stern in fifteen minutes.” 

The name put an immediate sour taste in your mouth, and childish though it was, you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you. “Eugh. Let me tell you- we blow this thing open and I find out he’s on the wrong side, I’ll personally wheel a guillotine out into the village square.” 

Steve half turned, “We’ll have time for jokes later.” 

“Who said anything about joking?” Arching a brow his way. 

                                                     -----

The plan seemed like a rather simple one. Sam, the least expected of your group, would put in a spoofed call through LUNA to Sitwell after he left his little lunch-date with Stern. It would come up as Alexander Pierce, who by now, had to have been sweating his agents a little about your whereabouts. This would make Sitwell put his detail at bay so that he could take that confidential call privately. 

Sam would then instruct him to unwittingly meet Steve around the back of an alley, who would then bully him up the the top of the building, where you and Natasha were waiting- playing an earlier part of an awaiting sniper. As incentive for Sitwell to move, of course. 

You and Nat watched from the rooftop and awaited your cue, as you listened in through LUNA, the two of them talking. Once Sitwell asked the obvious question of why would I go anywhere with you and you know, not have his security shoot Sam on sight, you gave Nat the signal to level the sight laser right on Sitwell’s chest. And, shockingly, yes that was enough incentive to get him to an alleyway. 

From there you and Natasha waited for Steve to bring him up. Which he did. By basically throwing him out of the stairwell and onto the gravel of the roof where he skidded and almost fell. 

Steve, for all you knew of him, was… actually quite menacing. “Tell me about Zola's algorithm.” Advancing on Sitwell as he continued to scurry away. 

“Never heard of it.” “What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?” Backing him up almost all the way to the edge of the roof. You and Natasha took up the sidelines, arms crossed. This really could go very easily, if he’d just give up his information. But you knew it wouldn’t go down like that. Pierce had to at least have had the smarts to pick stupidly loyal men. 

Sitwell put his hands up. “I was throwing up, I get seasick.” Just as he knocked at the edge, Steve grabbed him by the shirt and held him a little close off the ledge. But Sitwell just smiled. “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? Because it's really not your style, Rogers.” 

He had Steve there. But there was a backup plan. Intimidation wasn’t working, so force would. Steve dropped his head in a little smile, letting Sitwell back down on his feet. “You’re right. It’s not.” Letting him go fully. And then nodding Natasha’s way. “It's hers.” 

Realization dawned a little too late as Natasha wheeled back her leg, aiming right in the center of Sitwell’s chest and kicked him clean off the roof. The screaming was at least a little satisfying. She crossed her arms after. “Oh, hey, will you help me with something?” Looking at you. 

You raised your brows. “What’s that?” 

“You know any Stark employees that would be a good match for Steve? I’ve been trying to get him to go on a date for a week now-” 

Steve sighed, hand to his face. “Can we- can we not do this right now? And don’t involve her.” 

You smiled. “I like being involved. I’ll see what I can do.” 

On time, Sam in his newly acquainted Falcon suit burst up through the air, carrying a very terrified Sitwell, throwing him to a heap on the roof. Once he sat up on his knees, the three of you looked down at him. Though he held his hands up, he was grinning through his pale fear. “That all you got? A little roller coaster ride? You didn’t even charge me admission.” 

God damn it. Well. There was a back up for the back up. 

Bending down, you took the lapels of his suit in your hands, lifting him up as you stood, helping him roughly onto his feet. “Last chance.” Offering in a kind sing-songy tone. 

“I can take you.” Narrowing his eyes at you. 

Looking at him- through him- seeing him in two spaces at once, you spread your palms out flat against his chest, moving doubly, seeing a weird shadow reflection of yourself in that bright space, same as you moved in reality. “You’re a little rat of a man, aren’t you? Don’t you feel ashamed? If I were you I’d be mortified. Pathetic.” 

“I-” His breathing picked up. 

“But you can still make this right. Don’t you feel like just letting it out. Don’t you just wanna tell us the truth?” Looking so deep into his eyes you thought you saw the glass around his soul shatter into pieces so suddenly. It really hadn’t taken that much pressure. 

“Please- I can’t breathe-” True enough, he’d suddenly started wheezing, and when you let go of him, he put a hand to his chest. 

Steve stepped closer. “Tell us about the algorithm.” 

He shook his head, sweating profusely. “Zola's algorithm is a- is a program- for choosing Insight’s targets.” 

Sam and Natasha closed the half circle of aggressive faces around him, painting him into a real nightmare. “What targets?” Sitwell threw his hands up. “Please! Get away!” 

“Just spit it out and this will be all over.” Trying to encourage his looser tongue. 

He swallowed hard. “Targets- you- anyone! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to Hydra! Now, or in the future.” Suddenly he seemed to be unable to stop talking now that the floodgates had opened. 

His picks were… interesting. You had assumed this much. Hydra- and Pierce- were out to put an end to the Avengers. To you. Your team. But… Stephen Strange… that name felt familiar. You couldn’t place it right now. Not important. 

Steve seemed suddenly puzzled. “The future? How could it know?” 

Sitwell let out an uneasy laugh, wiping his brow. “How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught Hydra how to read it. Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. “And then what?” Already knowing the answer. Because there was only one end to this. So that Hydra could run amok, freely. With no resistance. 

Finally, he seemed a little more clear about what had just happened, and he grew even paler. Gulping out a gasp, hand to his heart, Sitwell shook his head. “Oh my god… Pierce is gonna kill me…” 

Steve took hold of his suit jacket again, lifting him a little. “What then?!” A more in-control and icy look was leveled Steve’s way. Then yours. Then Nat’s. Then Sam’s. As if reading you your futures. “Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.” 

God damn it, Fury. I warned you. 

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Three

[angelinwhy]

Never Going Back

Description: Y/N leaves her abusive boyfriend, covered in bruises and cuts, and goes to her best friends house - Harry. He cleans her up, and looks after her.

Warnings: mentions of abuse!

It hadn’t always been that way.

Y/N hadn’t always lived her life in complete fear that she could be hurt at any given moment. She used to be so carefree, so happy and bubbly. A true beacon of happiness that beamed everywhere she went. She travelled a lot and found new places, and in those places she found happiness. For most, finding good things in bad situations was like a needle in a bloody haystack - not for Y/N. It was like a hidden talent.

But it all changed when she met her boyfriend, of two years, Jake. He was good to her at the start, like really good. They were a model couple for every other couple on the planet. Always hosting dinners for their friends, spending every given day with each other, always smiling and always laughing. Sure, they had arguments, and got over them within a few days. But didn’t every other couple? Jake was a lad, in honesty. He had his reputation on the streets for being a man who slept about a lot (a man-slag basically) and just dumped the girls the day after. That stopped when he met Y/N though, as she completely grounded him. Made him a different person, but over time, things had started to change, and it wasn’t the best change.

It had all started during an argument one nice. Jake wasn’t one to be insecure about things, but when it came to the megastar Harry Styles, who happened to be Y/N’s best friend of 5 years, that was his deepest insecurity.

He wasn’t insecure because he wanted to be like him.

No.

Jake was insecure because of his friendship with Y/N and the ‘alarming amount of time they spent with one another’. He always thought that something was going on whenever Y/N went to see Harry, because she came home all giggly and happy and wanting to talk about what they did together. Jealous, Jake was, but very insecure too. So they argued about it, and no matter how many times Y/N told him that nothing was going on between her and Harry, he just didn’t believe her. The fight had escalated and became a screaming match, and Y/N was almost sure that the neighbours were going to phone the police on them. God, Y/N wish she had, as Jake just got more angry at Y/N, to the point when it scared her like a little lamb. Then, out of the blue, Jake did the unthinkable.

He hit her.

Jake had hit her, multiple times.

To him, he thought it established dominance, as after he did it, Y/N was sweet to him. Like she always was but to Jake it seemed unnatural for her to be nice.

It all carried on from there - she spent countless nights being scared that her body would be covered in bruises and cuts after he got home. Y/N spent most of her mornings covering up the marks with makeup, because she went out. As it happened for so long, she became rather good at it and no one had suspected a thing. But, after living all of her life in happiness, it was flipped upside and down she just lived in terror that one day, she would end up laying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life.

Tonight was the worst.

It was the night she feared the most.

He had got so angry, so fucking angry.

Jake had got that angry that he worn himself out, so ended up passing out in bed, that’s when Y/N slipped out the house to leave for a while, to find somewhere safe to go. And although Jake knew where it was, her first thought and destination was Harry’s house.

She had got a bus down to his house, as they were on opposite sides of the city to one another. Y/N had narrowly avoided an elderly couple giving her an odd look, or fussing over her when she stepped onto the bus. Her eyes caught theirs straight away and before they could get a properly good look at the state of her face, she pulled up the hood of her jacket and pulled it down over her. It shaded her face in all the right places so no one could see, and she kept her head down the whole time, occasionally looking up to see where she was. Her body ached the whole way and she just wished for some paracetamol to ease the pain for a while. Y/N knew she’d be able to get a couple at Harry’s house, but she needed them then.

The walk from the bus stop to Harry’s house was quiet, despite the shuffling of her feet on the concrete and the occasional car that drove past her. It was all so peaceful and silent, and the cold, fresh air was helping her cuts slightly.

And there here she stands.

Outside of Harry’s stunning residence, looking up at it like she was debating on whether to go inside, or to just turn around and go back to him. The devil.

She knew this was the right thing to do. So, she reaches out and pressed the intercom button as his security is tight, and he needs to speak the person before they enter the building. Within a few deafening buzzes, she hears a quick. “I can see you through the security cameras, Y/N. I’ve unlocked the door for you,” he tells her shortly before it goes quiet again.

Y/N reaches out and pushes open the door, before closing it behind her and hearing the mechanical whirring as it locks again. His house is lovely, and it’s only his front garden she’s in. It was an impressive, so to say it, mansion and although many of the large rooms were vacant, Harry didn’t mind. It was home. Once she is at the front door, she pushes it open and the first thing she hears is Tame Impala blasting through the house, so she immediately took a guess that Harry was just chilling, or singing. She closes the door behind her and kicks off her shoes, before pulling down the hood of her jacket. Her hands shook slightly as she began to wonder what Harry was going to say when he saw the state that she was in. It was the thing she was scared of the absolute most.

His house is warm and it provides her some comfort as she walks through it.

“I’m in the kitchen!” A voice then yells.

Y/N sighs in relief at the sheer sound of his voice, because although he was yelling, he wasn’t using the same tone that Jake not, not just an hour ago.

As she walks into the kitchen, she spots Harry facing the stove, cooking pasta. When he turns around and his eyes land on her bruised and cut face, his pales and he can’t even find the right words.

“What the fuck has happened to you?” He asks in a rushed tone and he moves towards her, not caring for the pasta now. Y/N tries to shrug him off gently as he tries to grab her face, and he almost frowns at her rejecting his touch. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shrugging as she takes a seat on the breakfast bar, Harry just stands in front of her as he watches her intently.

She sighs. “I got jumped by two girls on the way here, they were looking for get my phone and purse off me, but it was fine. I fought them off, kinda,” she lies straight through her teeth, not wanting to tell him the whole story. She couldn’t. But she needed him, she needed him to be her safe haven for the night. Somewhere where she could hide. “It was just as I got off the bus, they pushed me to the ground and like kicked me and that. I’m fine - I mean it hurts like a bastard, but I’m fine,” she fake smiles and Harry sighs, going towards his stove and turning off the hob. He needs to clean her up before he can think of his dinner. Y/N watches him as he opens the cupboard under the sink, and pulls out a green box.

A medical kit.

“You need to be more careful when you travel here at night,” he tuts as he comes back over and sits down next to her. “You know what the streets of London are like.” He scolds her like a child.

Before he starts to clean her cuts and tend to her bruises, he helps her take off her jacket, which he places on the chair behind him. So she was left in her thin white, noodle strap top that wasn’t providing her any warmth. He then asks her if she could tie her hair up, so she pulls the bobble off her wrist and ties it up into a messy bun at the back of her head.

“You should’ve called me.”

She sighs. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it just all happened so quick,” she lies again like it was the easiest thing in the world, to lie to her best friend.

“Bus stops normally have CCTV so we can ask for the footage to be checked, see if we can find them,” he says as he gets a little cotton wool bud and puts some rubbing alcohol onto it. The first face he looks was her face, which seems to be the worst. He felt sick to his stomach that two random girls could do this to someone so harmless. “This is going to sting a little bit, okay?” He tells her gently, and she nods her head before clenching her fist. Harry puts the cotton wool on her face and she feels that horrible burn on the places that were already hurting so much. He apologises quickly, before wiping off that cut, as it was the one that had the most blood on it.

He looks at her, and sees the pain on her face, and frowns slightly. He hated seeing her in a lot of pain.

“Were you coming over here anyways?” He asks as he takes out some wipes.

She nods. “Yeah, I was feeling pretty bored.”

“Was Jake not in?” Harry asks harmlessly.

Y/N tries to hide it but her breath hitches when Harry says his name, so she plays it off like one of her cuts was hurting, just so Harry gets confused. “Uh, well he was. But he had been working the whole day and was tired, so he just ended up going to sleep. I was going to watch Drag Race, but remembered that it had been a days since we last seen each other.” She tells him, not all of that was a lie. Jake was asleep, but she waited until he was asleep so she could sneak out of the house without him knowing. If he had woke up when she was leaving, then God, there would be all hell to pay for. Harry smiles at her lightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come over. Your room is made up again so if you want to stay then you can,” he offers up and she wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him, as she was too scared to go back.

But he couldn’t know that.

So instead she just nods her head with gracious (yet fake) smile on her lips. “That sounds great, Haz.”

After a few minutes, Harry had cleaned up the most of the cuts on her face, given that some of them were a lot worse than the others. He puts away all of the dirty stuff, before getting some clean ones out so he could move onto cleaning her hands. He had put some cream on the cuts on her head, so he decided he needed to do the same for the ones on her hands so they didn’t get infected. Harry puts down the cotton wool, and grabs her cold hands gently. But his brows furrow in confusion when he notices that they are perfectly fine. Surely she couldn’t of fought back and not got any marks on her hands? He asks himself as he continues to inspect her hands, so he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

When she notices him inspecting her hands like they were the most interesting things in the world, she yanks them away from his grasp.

Then it all clicks in Harry’s head.

If she had really fought back like she said she did, and given the state that she was in, her hands would definitely be all busted and cracked, with dried blood on them. He watches her face, as he displays a bunch of different emotions. Since they had been best friends for so long, he could basically read her like a blood book. Plus, she was terribly at hiding her emotions sometimes. Harry leans back in his chair as he looks at her again, but her eyes avoid his ones.

“Fought back, huh?” He asks, doing the ‘fuckboy nod’ but in a more angry way. He knew that she was lying to him now.

She doesn’t even look at him. “Yep.”

“But you don’t have any marks on your hands?” He pushes.

But this time, he doesn’t get an answer.

Y/N felt her heart beat getting faster when she knew thag Harry was onto her, and she chews nervously on the skin around her thumb. Harry notices that and immediately notices it as a sign she did when she was nervous or scared - and judging by the look on her face, Harry knew that she was feeling a mixture of the both of them. He didn’t want to make her sad by pushing the subject, but the more he went on, the less he believed that she had been jumped at the bus top. Then he remembered how her breath hitched when he said ‘Jake.’ He didn’t want to believe what he was thinking in that moment, so he remains calm as he looks at his shaking best friend. She looks so terrified, and it was making Harry slightly anxious.

“You didn’t get jumped,” he tells her softly, looking down at her to try and catch her eyes. But he fails. “Who did this to you?”

She shakes her head. “The girls at the bus stop.”

“There was no girls at the bus stop.”

“Yes there was.”

“Y/N, don’t lie to me. I know there was no girls, so tell me who did this and why they did it.”

“It was the two girls.”

This time, she was a little more hesitant when she responds to him, and that’s when Harry notices that she’s starting to crack. He felt like a terrible best friend who questioning her when clearly she was not feeling great, and feeling uncomfortable, but he knew that if he wanted the truth, he had to do this. It was all starting to come together now. Harry was just wondering why she lied about who hurt her badly, and who was she covering for?

“You’re a liar.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not.”

“Well I’m your best friend and sometimes I like to think I know you better than you know yourself. And right now I know that you’re bullshitting - there was no girls and you didn’t get jumped. So tell me, who did this to you?”

“Harry…”

“Y/N. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Y/N…”

“Fine!” She then snaps, and Harry is completely taken aback by her sudden yelling. Y/N looks right at him with tears in her eyes, and her hoarse voice managed to yell out. “I lied to you, okay?! There was no girls at the bus stop, it was all a bullshit cover up for my boyfriend who beat the shit of me tonight. I had to leave when he fell asleep because I was scared that if I tried to leave when he was awake, he’d hurt me again. You were the only person I knew I could come to and your house could be my safe place from him. So there, Harry! Now you know. My boyfriend hates my fucking guts and I’m in an abusive relationship! Happy now?” She scowls as they tears fall down her cheeks, and she collapses back into the chair, a hand coming to rest above her eyebrows.

Harry didn’t know what to say.

He had just found out that his best friend was being abused, and he had no clue on how to even approach a situation like this.

There was going to be no remorse when he saw Jake, but that was the last thing on his mind at that moment. His mind was on his best friend, who was sitting in front of him, sobbing quietly, too scared to even move. Harry tries to put a hand on her thigh to soothe her, but the sudden action makes her flinch and pull back from him.

The sadness grows in Harry’s eyes. He’s fucking broke her.

“Bab, I am so sorry,” was all he manages to get out, as he didn’t have a clue what to say to her. She just nods, a sob passing over her lips as she had finally managed to tell someone. Maybe all of this can be put to rest after all of this stuff with Harry. He didn’t know what to do - was he to phone his mum and ask her what he was to do, or maybe Gemma? Both of the women in his family were super smart, and maybe advice from a woman about a woman would be the most helpful thing. But he knew that it would only worry Anne and Gemma, as they treat Y/N like she was a daughter and a sister. Like she was one of the family. There was something he wanted to do, but was too scared to ask Y/N. “Is it just on your face?”

She shakes her head. “Nearly e-everywhere.”

That was like a punch Harry’s gut. Nearly everywhere. God those two words were like ice cold daggers to his heart, and he could only imagine the things he was going to do to Jake for doing this to his best friend. What would possess someone to hurt another human being in this way?

“Can I see?”

Y/N’s eyes then shoot up, as she looks directly at him. “I don’t think I can, they’re everywhere, Harry.” She tells him, her voice quiet, but he just gives her a soft look. She knew he meant well and he only wanted to help, so that’s why she stood up so she could show him.

The first place she went was the hem of her leggings. Her fingers hooked around them and she pulled them down, just enough so Harry was able to see the top of one of her thighs - his breath hitched in his throat when he saw it. A massive bruise on her thigh, that had a few bits of dried blood on it. She looks down at her and a tear fell. Once she pulled the leggings back up, the next item of clothing she grabs is the shirt she’s wearing. Hesitating slightly, she pulls it up just below her boob, and this was the one thag shocked Harry the most - all over her stomach and side were bruises and cuts. It was like she had taken a million tiny knives to her stomach. One man had done this to a completely defensless woman.

Y/N then turns around, and lifts up the bun which had slightly fallen out, revealing her bruised back. It was worse than the front.

“That’s the worst of it,” she tells him, as she turns back around to face him.

“There’s more, as it was just relentless. Most of them are like on my legs, some in other places. I think if I had fought back, it would’ve been a lost worse, so I just lay there and let him do it.”

Harry felt the tears prick in the corner of his eyes as he realises that she was literally letting him do it to avoid herself getting hurt more. He tries to fight the tears back, but in the end, one of them slips and rolls down his cheek. He sniffles slightly, looking at his best friend who was in so much pain. “How long has he been doing this to you for?” He asks, wiping his nose as it had started to run, due to him crying. She pauses for a second, and Harry could literally see the cogs spinning like madness inside her fragile mind. “About 6 months.” Harry felt his heart stop again. All of this had been going on for six months and she had managed to keep it to herself and not tell anyone? He almost felt like throwing up right there and then.

“I got pretty good at covering everything with makeup,” she informs him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Harry shakes his head. “Is there any reason he does this to you?”

“Yep,” she sighs. “He’s insecure about me being friends with you, as he believes that when I’m with you, I’m sleeping around with you. That was the first argument we had when he started doing this to me, and from then on that’s what it all seems to be about. I try to tell him that you’re only my best friend and that I would never do anything like that to him, but if anything that just makes him more mad as he thinks that I’m lying to him again. It’s become easier to deal with - argue, take the beating, go to bed, wake up and watch him be nice, cover everything up. It’s just a huge, repetitive cycle. As I said I thought it was becoming easier to deal with, but that all changed as of tonight. Tonight was definitely the breaking point.”

This was so much for Harry to register that he didn’t even know what to say. He kept on going back to the same thing though and that was getting his hands on Jake and teaching him a fucking lesson.

“I am so sorry that this is happening to you, Y/N,” he apologises again. “You’re never going back to him.”

“He’ll find me if I don’t go back.”

Harry shakes his head, “he won’t find you, because firstly, I have my security around the house and if I need to I can call in my actual security. Two, once you are all sorted out, I’m going to ring the police as I’m not letting him get away with this. I want to be the one to beat the fuck out of him, but I know I’ll get done for battery, so it’s best if I just let the cops handle this one.”

“No, Harry no you can’t!”

Y/N moves away from him, like she was ready to run from him. “If you phone the police everyone will get involved and I don’t want everyone to know!” She yells at him, beginning to cry again. His heart aches for her as he stands up and cautiously makes his way over to her shaking frame, not wanting to frighten her any further. “Please don’t phone the police Harry, as your best friend I’m begging you.”

“Y/N, bab, please listen,” he says gently as he stops in front of her. “The police are our best hope. If I don’t phone them, and let you go back then God knows how long this will go on for. If we get the police involved, they were take him to court and get a restraining order, or better yet put him in fucking jail. Yes they’ll ask for statements from you but when you do it you have to remember that the police are some of the most trustworthy people, and they’ll do all they can to help you, okay? You know I love you, and I know that you’re scared but I’m going to be phoning the police shortly. I can’t let you live like this. I don’t want you to live in fear because of him.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say Jake’s name. Y/N nods.

“I’m scared,” she sobs.

Harry opens out his arms for a hug, and she doesn’t hesitate before moving straight into them.

He wanted to squeeze her so hard that all of her broken parts mended, but he knew that she was so fragile and hurt. So instead, he hugged her lightly, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Right, here’s what we’re gonna do okay? Me and you are going to go upstairs, and I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear for the night as I don’t want you sleeping in the stuff you came here in. I’ll make us a cup of tea and then we can do whatever you want. Whether that be sleep or watching the TV, but while you’re just getting settled I’m going to ring the police, okay?” He legs go of her and slightly bends so the two of them were eye level. As she nods her head, Harry kisses her forehead, and lets the kiss linger for a second. Once he pulls away, he grabs her hand and starts to lead her towards the stairs.

As they were halfway up the stairs, Y/N stops and Harry turns to look at her. “Can I sleep in your bed with you, tonight?”

His face softens, and he nods at her.

Once they were in his large bedroom, Y/N sat down on his bed and watches as he goes through his drawers to find something that she can wear. He pulls out a plain white t-shirt, and a pair of jogging bottoms. She then asks if he had a hoodie that she could wear also, so he pulls out one of his own merch hoodies. He hands the clothes to her, but waits a second. “I’m going to make the tea, and to ring the police, okay? You sure you’ll be alright up here alone?” He asks, and she nods her head. Harry smiles slightly before leaving his bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Y/N gets up from his bed and starts to get undressed so she could put on some warmer clothes. His clothes were big for her, so she had to pull the strings of the jogging bottons extra tight so they didn’t come down when she was sleeping, but other then that, it was all good. Once she was dressed, she tosses her dirty clothes into the washing hamper in the corner of his room, before climbing onto his bed. She settles onto ‘her side’ (the right side) as it was her favourite. Although it wasn’t her bed and was Harry’s, she first night she slept in it she had claimed her own side. It didn’t really bother Harry about the side that she had chose, as he preferred the left side. She buried herself under the heavy quilt, before looking around the room. It was complete silence, and she hated it.

But, she was more than thankful to Harry for tonight.

When she first arrived at his house, she was scared that he was going to notice, which in the end it did. But it was the build up to it. Having him realise that she had been lying all along to cover the tracks of the person who she wasn’t going to call her boyfriend anymore, so she didn’t hurt herself. Unfortunately, Harry was too smart and had found out, and having to tell someone that she was being abuse was one of the hardest things she had ever done. But, she was proud of herself for finally managed to tell someone.

She was just scared for what was going to come next.

About twenty minutes later, Harry came back up the stairs with two cup of teas, and a packet of chocolate digestives hanging from his mouth. He dangles them in front of Y/N so she can take them from him, which he does, and then she takes her boiling hot tea. Harry comes around the other sides of the bed and climbs in next bed, leaning back against the headboard. “The chocolate biscuits have been in the fridge, because I know you don’t like them when they’re warm and all the chocolate has melted,” he tells her, and she cracks a small smile at him remembering her habit. She opens the packet and offers it to Harry, and he takes a couple before putting them on the coasts that was on his bedside table. He looks at her.

“Did you speak to the police?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods after sipping his tea. “I told them about how you came here and what you told me - about how long it’s been going on for and stuff. They said that they’re going to go to your house, and I told them that you’re scared, as they were going to come here tonight to speak to you. So instead they said that you can some to the station tomorrow and give them a statement, and they can also have a nurse take a look at your bruises and that. Is that alright?” He asks and she nods her head with a small smile.

“I’m scared, and really nervous, but yeah that sounds good. Will you come with me?” She asks softly.

He nods. “Of course I will.”

Y/N takes a sip of her tea, before dunking her biscuit into it and eating it, as she watches Harry turn on the TV. She notices him flick through the channels until he finds the right one he wants, and when he clicks on it, the familiar elf with long blonde hair and the dwarf with an axe comes onto the screen. Y/N smiles as she instantly realises it as her favourite film - Lord of the Rings. She was a complete nerd for stuff like this, and just being able to wind down and watch this with Harry after such a hectic night is the best thing.

“Thank you, Haz, for everything you’ve done for me tonight. I honestly don’t know how to thank you for it all,” she tells him softly.

He looks at her and smiles. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay and that, y’know. I don’t want you to ever feel like you can’t come and talk to me, even if the situation is something on this scale, okay? I love you,” he tells her and she grins.

“I love you too.”

As the two of them sat in bed and watched the film, occasionally laughing at Gimli yelling at Legolas over who could kill the most orcs, Y/N couldn’t help but feel thankful for Harry. He was truly the kindest person on this whole planet, and she knew that she was so lucky to have someone as amazing as he is in her life, because she knew that if she didn’t have him, the outcome of tonight would’ve been different. And she didn’t even want to think about it. She knew that there was going to be way more stuff to come after all of this, like telling Harry’s family and her own family, but throughout it all, Harry was going to be with her every step of the way. He wasn’t going to leave her to deal with this alone. And she knew that, and that’s why she’s so glad that they’re best friends.

“Hey! Stop dunking your fucking biscuits into my tea, you have your own, and I’d rather not drinking biscuit crumbs!”

#i know this is a touchy subject and im sorry for that but i spent all night on this and im really proud of it #i wanted to ended on a lighter note so i decided it would be harry yelling as he didnt want biscuit crumbs in his tea #never going back #harry styles fic #harry fic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Kira (9)

CHAPTER 9: It’s a Different Dawn

Loki x fem!Reader (Kira)

Series: Will contain fluff, smut, bloodshed, violence, anxiety, tears and the cries of my wilted soul.

Chapter content: some old stuff is dug up, a new place is visited, a new stranger is...met?

Warnings: not much really...but then again...not much really :P

Word count: I am in such a weird phase right now. Like a trance. I can't seem to make my mind come to this very moment sometimes. Often, actually.  But this place such a weirdly comfortable escape I keep wondering if things would’ve been different had I known about this site ages back.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The one time you like the city you have hated so much for so long, you are leaving it for another place- continent, in fact- and are somehow surprised by the streaks of flawless orange, red, pink and purple paint the sky the most colourful for the first time. The roads are empty when the car leaves from The Hidden Grim. The forests give way to barren lands outside the city walls and the concrete jungle is but a side view to your journey to the airport.

Robert was supposed to play the role of your chauffeur till the terminal but you are being escorted by another man today. The same man who, according to you- had perfect yet eerie timing for saving you that horrendous night.

"Everything okay back there?"

His voice. Yes, of course, that is one of the reasons you are so wary of him whenever he is around you. His voice seems to have a gravity of its own, moving the things around him in order, according to his elemental force. Maybe that is why even though he has been nothing but a gentleman, he just does not seem to rub you the right way. Which answers the question of why your boss does not like having him around. No two stars with such strong force fields can survive in such close vicinity.

"Didn't realise you cared so much about me."

Ah. Right . You had nearly forgotten Loki's presence beside you. Nearly. Hard task but it happened for- you look down at your watch- twelve seconds.

Even at five in the morning, he is dressed with the intention of taking over the world. The black suit does not seem to disappoint the looker- in this case, you- when you wonder what all had Gustav packed for you.

"The question wasn't for you," Heimdall admits with an irritated sigh and a raised brow.

You are clearly sitting on the edge of a black hole waiting to be formed.

"Hm," Loki sighs, closing his phone, "here I thought we were finally getting warm."

From the corner of his eyes his watches you smile at his- what he thinks is ill-timed- joke, feeling this strange flutter take form inside his chest. He feels better watching you smile after the night you had. But the moment he remembers the horror and the tears on your face, his fingers close themselves into a fist, calculating all the ways to find out the source and theorise what could possibly be done with them.

I'm watching out for my own interests , he even tries to convince himself. If she isn't in the right frame of her mind, it will affect my work. There is no other reason.

"Everything's fine, Mr Heimdall, sir," you admit, breaking the cold trance of his thoughts that Loki is swimming in, resurfacing at the call of your tired yet soft voice.

"Okay, good," Heimdall acknowledges with a nod, swerving smoothly towards the private terminal, "just wanted to make sure your boss wasn't being the reason for your silence."

You brows converge as you turn to face Loki in confusion, him doing the same but ending it with an eye roll and a slight shake of his head. "He has a tendency to mock my skills as a host ever since the beginning."

You let your tired eyes go a little wide to show the dawn of realisation engulfing your sleep-craving brain while Heimdall scoffs from the driver's seat.

Ten minutes later you sit in the most comfortable little jet you have witnessed in your life, your hope of getting a shut-eye in the back of the plane seeming impossible as you are shown to the comfortable soft leather seat facing Loki while Heimdall and Robert- who was responsible for the vehicle bringing the luggage- sit at the back.

Oh well, might just make good use of it.

"The marketing and finance floor each sent in a list of investors for the new subsidiary of agro-plant and machinery."

Loki- already settled in his seat, his jacket resting in the closet at the back, his sleeves rolled up just enough for you to think how used to he is hiding his scar- looks up at a fidgety you trying to find a comfortable angle to sit as you open up your laptop and turn it to show him the list.

"Tell them to run their respective checks," he concludes, taking the champagne offered by the hostess who is looking at him with the most suggestive look, ticking something off inside your mind.

"Uh...they already did," you mention, your fingers curling into your palms, trying to stop you from saying anything further.

Loki has learned to read that look you have on your face right now. The look of having something to say but letting anything out for the fear of something awful.

"And?"

He watches you blink, take in a lungful and sit straight in your seat before finally speaking.

"It...um...there are a couple of things that I...what I'm trying to s-"

"She made me run an intense background check on the list. None of them is worth letting into your business," Heimdall finishes all your anxiety for you and creates another tide nonetheless.

Loki eyes you with curiosity first and you are still trying to make sense of what he is thinking before he pulls your laptop towards him and eyes the list.

"What's wrong with the Silvercombs?"

You turn to Heimdall, who simply tilts his head to let you take charge on this one.

"The heir to the business is the elder son. He's..." you tilt your hands in the traditional gesture of 'that's how it is', "a known socialite who has been stealing money from the company's charity to fund his extravagant parties."

You can hear Loki click and swipe on your machine, watching the stills and captured CCTV footage of the man being involved in everything that is wrong.

"Okay," Loki's brow does a little wave, letting it seep in, "what about Dante and Bradburn?"

"Involved in sex trafficking," you say softly, wrapping one hand on your opposite arm, rubbing your thumb over the skin that can feel the goosebumps come in waves over the surface.

"Smith and Darby?"

"Darby is renouncing the partnership soon. He is leaving the empire to settle with his new wife in the Himalayas after they lost their daughter in an accident. Smith doesn't know about the decision yet but Heimdall thinks he will grow suspicious of the fund flow within the next month or two which might not be good for the employees if there isn't a contingency plan that can bear Smith's temper."

"Would you like anything else with your champagne, sir?"

The hostess practically coos at Loki, making you wish you'd just taken an economy flight, never having to witness the ridiculousness that you were seeing right now.

"No, thank you," Loki sits up to look at you, not even breathing in that woman's direction, who- you admit to yourself- seems like Victoria's Secret model on her off days, "so no one on that list is clean?"

"How about some s-"

"Excuse me," Loki breaks the woman's coy composure with just a thread of iciness, "I am trying to have a conversation with her, do you mind?"

It is hard to look at the poor lady trying to keep herself together as she goes away but not that hard when you realise you are the only one on the plane without any refreshments.

"There are two companies we weren't able to find much about. Anvil Corp and Goliath Inc. Nothing is given about the owners on the company's website. The VPs are ordinary people and are as clean as a human can be but I still have my doubts."

The captain of the flight welcomes every passenger by their name before announcing take off, making you the first one to fasten your seatbelt as the engine comes to life.

No further conversation is made as you see the gravel move back from outside your window.

What your mildly anxious heart does not notice is the three pair of eyes discreetly glued on to you, looking for any signs of discomfort that might need external aid.

Loki can see your eyes shut close- partially due to the uneasiness of the flight, partially due to the heaviness in your head thanks to a sleepless night- while your fingers try to dig into the leather of the armrests. He cannot help but notice how your breathing accelerates with every second as his mind counts the gap between every inhale. You open your eyes just for a few moments, making the mistake of looking outside just as the plane tilts and the dew in your eyes is clearly visible to the man sitting opposite you.

Without wasting another bit he reaches into his pant pockets and takes out a silver strip of some medicine.

"Here," he calls out to you, "John recommended me this for my...travelling sickness. Take a tablet."

You look at the silver strip, sending its reflection everywhere inside the plane, wondering for a moment about the medicine before throwing every precaution out the door to take it from his hand and popping one inside your mouth.

The little tablet tastes sweet on the tip of your tongue, readily dissolving in your mouth. Within minutes you start feeling your nerves relax, your breathing ease up, and your hands unwind. That's what it takes to finally have slumber engulf you in its embrace.

"What did you give her?" Heimdall whispers at Loki with a hint of anger, frustration and worry swirling inside his voice.

"An SOS for anxiety," Loki whispers back, looking at the unconvinced face of the watcher, "oh relax! Her doctor recommended it. And I know that you know."

Heimdall does not counter him. Instead, he watches him get up and take the seat next to Robert and Heimdall, swivelling the furniture towards them in order to face them more comfortably.

"Did you find anything?"

Heimdall watches Loki's gaze go further than where he sits, following it to see Robert produce a file for both the spectators. He takes the file and opens it for him and Loki to see. Inside is the entire life of a man that goes by the name Harrison Wardwell.

"There is a five-year timeline from about ten years ago when he was in the same city as Kira," Robert whispers, pointing at the activities of the man during that time along with pictures of him from every source that is at his disposal. "It looked like coincidence first until I found out he used to work with her mother's sister. According to the photographs on her social media, they dated for a while before he decided to end things and move away."

Both Heimdall and Loki study the timeline intensely, letting the information be etched in their brains.

Loki's eyes wandering eyes pause over Robert when he watches him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is it?"

Robert breathes in before turning to look at you sleeping, hearing you snore lightly.

"During that time, Kira frequently visited her family doctor for various ailments," Robert hesitates a bit before continuing, "her doctor had coded her file with symptoms of depression. And...more."

Both spectators looked on at the copy of notes Robert had put inside the file.

*Patient shows symptoms of depression...family not been able to catch up...Does not express anything...as if...in shock...unable to register her surroundings...avoids talking to the male staff in the hospital...*

The flip of the page forces Robert to glue his eyes on Heimdall and Loki, reading every minute change in their expression when they see what seems like a family photograph with a recognisable Harrison and barely identifiable- not to mention too young- Kira not smiling for the camera while the former keeps his hand on her shoulder.

.

"I was not expecting this."

"It's Tony Stark. What else were you expecting?"

You look at Loki with a mixture of confusion and frown.

What the hell do you mean 'It's Tony Stark...'

"But...it's an expo ..." you try to reason with yourself than with Loki as the cars that picked you up from the airport now slowly take you through the gates of what seems like a little heaven made right in Anthony Edward Stark's city.

There are cars coming in and going out through this estate that is covered in more green than the entire New York City combined. Striking villas lineup two streets, nearly making you miss the lake right in the middle of lush green golf grounds lying at the back of those too-good-to-be-true houses.

Wait. Will we be staying in one of these...mansions? you wonder through the window when another lane filled with better villas named after a flower passed by. But I just left a mansion!

Turning another lane, the driver stops the vehicle after just a few meters.

"The reception, Madam, Sir," he announces.

You are trying to let his words seep through your brain when the door on your side opens with fair greetings.

"Welcome to Potts Sunrise Estate," the concierge greets, indirectly urging you to get out of the car.

The air smells of grass and something sweet and sensational that you cannot put your finger on. The sun is brighter and the sky is clearer than you'd seen eleven hours before. There are birds chirping somewhere in the distance while a few people are going in and out of the reception, some of them meeting up like long lost friends, which, a part of you envies for a withering moment.

"I'll go see what Stark's kept in store for us," Loki mentions, adjusting his jacket before turning to Robert and Heimdall- getting out of the car behind you.

You see them exchange a nod before Robert takes out the luggage and Heimdall excuses himself, telling the former to go ahead while he 'takes care of some business'.

Great. I'm invisible I guess.

The reception is nothing too over the top but a decent room of glass supported by wooden beams and decorated with plants, vines and windchimes- housing a place for the people who are responsible for helping out the guests. By the east side in the present shade sits a statue of Buddha in meditation and opposite to it in the lawn is a swing chair in white. The windchimes strike a duet with the breeze that puts your soul in a happy mood.

"No, but you don't get it, Hope. I'd love to stay in one of those mansions because it's day time. But the moment the sun goes down I'd be running around for the smallest box to hide in because my brain won't stop playing 'Tip-toe by the window'. It's the monkey brain, hon. Can't do nothin' about it."

You turn around to watch a fair-skinned man with eyes filled with so much light, you think they might start shedding tears of pure sunshine at any moment. The woman with him is his total opposite. Filled with grace and composure that dances with her hair bouncing off her shoulder, away from the collar of the white pantsuit she is dressed in.

"All I asked you was whether you picked the key of our chalet from reception or not," the woman decrees, walking away, the man following her like a puppy lost in love.

"Also I don't get half the people arriving here in three-piece suits. The expo doesn't start till tomorrow. What are you guys, business jocks?" He raises his hands in question, making eye contact with you halfway when he sees your eyes light up at the topic.

"Oh my God," you chime, "right?"

Like a hundred light bulbs turning on at once, his face lights up as he points his index finger at you in the friendliest 'hey, she gets me!' gesture.

"See?" he tries to show Hope another human who agrees with him before turning back towards you to shout, "love your shirt."

You look down at the Lord of The Rings themed blue shirt matched with black cotton palazzo pants, smiling at the thought of looking anything near decent in this. That too after an eleven-hour flight.

"Thank you!" you nearly yell back, turning towards the reception with a huge smile on your face, nearly bumping into a very curious Loki.

You try to hide the joy on your face so as to compose yourself in his presence, clearing your throat to try and explain the reason for this absurd goofiness.

"Twenty."

"Hm?"

"The chalet booked for us. Number twenty."

"Oh. Okay."

You both walk behind the concierge helping you out with the luggage.

Wait.

The chalet booked for us. Us. Us-us?

How many rooms does a chalet have?

What even is a chalet?

.

"Ah, rooms," you sigh with relief on walking in another room on the upper floor. With three rooms in all- two bedrooms with attached bathrooms on the first floor and one of similar nature downstairs apart from the cosy living room with an open kitchenette- you are already falling in love with this place.

"Keep these in the room upstairs and the rest in this room," you hear Loki's voice from the living room downstairs.

Your belongings have been moved to the room attached to the hall while his stuff has moved up to the supposed 'master bedroom'.

When did chivalry die to make him the boss of all decisions?

You feel the jetlag catalyse with this microscopic bitterness rising inside you. Is the same man who comforted me- in his own way- last night?

The bell breaks the heaviness rising around you.

Loki looks from behind the kitchen counter as you walk towards the main door to open it.

An attendant with a kind smile stands with a letter over a box of chocolates in his hand.

"Invitation from Miss Potts and Mister Stark," he announces ever so politely, inclining Loki to take a few steps towards the door but not come any closer for that man to directly hand him the letter.

"Oh, what for?" you ask excitedly.

"Welcome dinner in honour of all the guests gathered here in the name of the brighter future with Stark Industries," he responds with a little bow.

You are looking in the plain yet elegant invitation in your hand- clearly Pepper's choice- too overwhelmed by the thought to finally meet her after such a long time.

"We will be awaiting your presence at dinner tonight," the attendant seems to conclude, again with a bow, "Mr and Mrs Odinson."

You hear your soul scream while it dies and rises from its grave simultaneously.

"W-ha-no-uhhh...I-we are...no...uhh..."

Words have abandoned you in the forest drowned in the thickest blanket of snow. The animals are all looking at you with pure judgement in their eyes while you're trying to explain that one arctic monkey you are not made for an ice-water lunge as he continues to look at you in confusion.

And through all this chaotic silence, Loki is that one sane fox who lets go of a tired breath and steps forward to close the door in that monkey's face, finally putting a stop to the verbal stroke you just suffered.

.

"It is supposed to be dinner!"

"With the most influential people in the world!"

"So?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...hello?"

"You and Loki truly deserve each other-"

"Gustav!"

"-s company!"

You look at your phone screen with the urge to break through it and shake Gustav by his collar.

"I am not wearing that thing to dinner tonight."

"So you're letting all those hours of sweat and tears of mine go to waste?"

"This is pure blackmail."

"Is it though?" you can clearly hear that rusty teasing edge in his voice.

"Come on, man, this...this thing," you hesitate before lowering your voice to a whisper, "it's too revealing!"

The knock on your room's door is slight but that doesn't mean it isn't enough to make you jump where you sit in your bathrobe, nearly throwing your phone away.

"Kira, are you decent?"

I'm fucking terrified if that matters!

"Y-yes," you declare, letting Loki turn the handle to your door and step in.

You have to catch your breath in order to not blurt out what all you feel when you see him at that moment.

Loki has cleaned up nicely. The three-piece suit- sheen black over the smaragdine shirt- fits him a bit too perfectly. The pants around his long legs are just the right length to complement them. The shirt is loose enough to look comfortable but not loose enough to feel shaggy on him. His hair has been swept back quite thoroughly and his presence smells of jasmine wrapping a street in a village that sells its freshest herbs and spices.

"You...are not ready yet," he mentions after a quick scan of you, head to toe.

"You look nice," you are finally able to speak, now realising what he just said. "Oh, yeah. I'll um...don't worry. You go ahead. I'll catch up at the villa," you assure him, trying to breathe in between words to keep your brain working.

Loki gives you a thoughtful look before turning around to go towards the door. "Don't get lost on your way."

Just this once you excuse his insult and go back to the call you were concerned about a few seconds ago.

"Uhh..."

"He looks riveting, doesn't he," Gustav states in the most casual way.

"...that would be an understatement," you whisper, fearing he might be hearing you from somewhere close by.

"You don't have to fight with me, dear. Just ask yourself what you would like to feel tonight."

Feel? Feel.

And like the unforeseen monsoon winds hitting smack in the middle of a hot summer, your wet dream starring you and Loki flashes right before your eyes.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror next to the bed, thinking what you are already feeling right this second.

"I want to feel..." you do not realise you are thinking out loud saying the words as they form.

"I want to feel that dangerous spark tonight," you conclude.

"Well...?" Gustav's voice reflects all shades of excitement.

Filling your lungs with air, you straighten your back, watching those callow eyes turn a shade darker to reveal something that has been long asleep.

"What footwear do you think would look great with that dress?"

#loki #loki odinson #marvel loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x ofc #loki x oc #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fiction #loki fluff #loki smut #loki series #fluff #smut #marvel #loki marvel #marvel fics #marvel fluff #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #Marvel MCU #MCU #MCU fanfiction #Kira #maladaptive ninja returns #au

[welcometothepenumbra]

JUNO STEEL AND THE STOLEN CITY (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

A month is a very long time to stake out, but Detective Steel is nothing if not dedicated to his job. And so he sits on a rooftop, day after day, watching the Museum of Colonized History, waiting to see the gangster who is supposed to pay for a killing here, and absolutely nothing has happened.

Until today. Suddenly, the month of quiet has given way, and threats old and new are jumping out of every shadow. But when the metaphorical and literal Martian rain are both 90% acid, Detective Steel had better find cover, and quickly.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Stolen City.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): If you get up early enough and you catch it in just the right light, Hyperion City can be sorta beautiful. The billboards backlit by the early morning light, the dew-spackled trashcans, the sunrise shadows cast by highscrapers and floating mansions… it’s really somethin’. And every time I see it I wish I was dead.

My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and I usually don’t see any side of the city that comes earlier than noon, but, lately I’ve been changing things up. Seeing a lot of sunrises. Drinking a lot of coffee. Saying no to old habits like sleep and… no, pretty much just sleep.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

RAMSES O’FLAHERTY (FROM COMMS): Juno. Status report.

JUNO: Oh, hey Ramses, it’s… been a big three hours since four AM, got some real exciting stuff to catch you up on.

RAMSES: Glad to hear it. You’ve only been staking out for, what? A month? (CHUCKLES)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I’d been following a lead for weeks on someone who was trying to sabotage Ramses O’Flaherty. And it all pointed here: the Museum of Colonized History, so far on the outskirts of Hyperion City that the building’s roof had to be rounded just to fit on the inside of the Dome. Even here, the buildings were jammed tight enough together you didn’t have room to breathe – and it was at this museum, under the cover of all that sprawl, where I’d supposedly catch a one-eared woman doing some shady business. Which you’d think would be pretty exciting. It sounds exciting, doesn’t it? But what it actually translates to is sitting on a rooftop from early morning to late night, watching a museum all day, every day, until you get so bored you wonder how hard you’d have to pull to take your toes off.

MUSIC: ENDS.

RAMSES: Are you listening? Do I need to get you a cybernetic ear to go along with that eye? I asked if you’d seen any sign of Yasmin Swift’s employer yet.

JUNO: Nope. But my foot fell asleep and I’m bored out of my goddamn mind. That’s the status report. Now entertain me before I take the ‘stir’ out of ‘stir crazy.’

RAMSES: Entertain you? Well, I suppose I’m already the city’s clown. Why not be Juno Steel’s, too?

JUNO: Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.

RAMSES: Not that bad. Would you like me to read this headline to you? Molly Chung, Uptown Bulletin: “Opinion: Ramses O’Flaherty’s Campaign Is As Old And Stale As He Is.”

JUNO: That’s just one—

RAMSES: Hyperion Chronicle: “Study: Pilot Pereyra’s Increased Funding to HCPD Doubles Prison Population, Halves Crime Rate.” That study is just so incredibly inaccurate, by the way. The Beacon: “Treasurer Insists O’Flaherty’s Budget Won’t Balance, Quote, ‘No Matter What Math Says.’” Elysium Times—

JUNO: Okay, okay, so it’s pretty bad. (SIGHS) Explains how Pilot won so many damn elections, anyway. Takes a lot of skill to smear your opponent without getting your hands dirty.

RAMSES: Oh, their strategy is a lot more impressive than that. Everyone knows Pilot’s a crook – but they’ve changed the conversation so that’s a plus. If we’re going to live in a city full of cutthroats, the reasoning goes, we should at least have a cutthroat on our side, too. That’s been their platform for years: the world doesn’t play fair, so why should we?

JUNO: Well, at least nobody’s tried to kill you lately.

RAMSES: Always be grateful for the little things, yes. I wouldn’t rest on those laurels just yet, though – whoever this is, if they’re after my campaign and not just me, their biggest strike will come at the eleventh hour. They still have four days before the election.

JUNO: Guess that means I don’t get to leave this goddamn roof, then. Which is fine, but I guess I just didn’t know doing good would look so much like doing nothing.

RAMSES: Juno…

Nevermind. Your physicals say your knife wound is healing. Are you, ehm… making progress in your physical therapy? They must have given you stretches, or something like that?

JUNO: Yeah, well… doesn’t mean I do ‘em.

RAMSES: You should. It’s not like you have anything better to do up there. You could at least make use of the care I pay for. I have to protect my investment.

JUNO: Yeah, I read about that. The cyber-eye is hooked up to my nervous system, so if my brain function stops, it stops. That’s a lot of creds down the drain.

RAMSES: I didn’t mean the Theia.

We’ve been working together for some time now, Juno. I truly hope that– by which I mean, I hope you don’t think that I merely think of you as… uh, well…

JUNO: Wait, Ramses – hold that thought.

RAMSES: Oh, thank God.

JUNO: I see someone.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Down in the alley by the museum… the woman with one ear! The Piranha.

JUNO (NARRATOR): She’d gotten away from me once, and I wasn’t gonna forget that. The Piranha, who’d nearly killed Maia King. The Piranha, who was all sharp teeth and a need to bite. If she was behind this, I thought, that would explain the methods used to go after Ramses so far. Roasting roller-coasters and killer criminal consultants seemed like the right kind of over-the-top from the mind that brought you the cat-bomb.

It took everything I had in me not to go down and get her right then. But sometimes you need bait. And sometimes that means leaving a piranha on the line in hopes you’ll catch a whale.

RAMSES: Well? What’s she doing?

JUNO: Just waiting around, it looks like, but… why?

SOUND: CAR DRIVES UP.

Hang on, a car just pulled up. Someone’s leaning out, it’s…

Uh… uh, Ramses?

RAMSES: Juno.

JUNO: You’re not gonna believe this.

RAMSES: You and your buildups. This had better be worth it.

JUNO: It’s Mayor Pereyra.

SOUND: DISTANT CAR DOOR CLOSES, FOOTSTEPS.

Mayor Pilot Pereyra is doing back-alley business with a killer, and I caught them red-handed.

RAMSES: Well. That was worth it.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Pilot Pereyra, Mayor of Hyperion City for four years running, was famous for their stiletto heels. They had a new pair in a new hideous color every week, and Pilot made killings off of ‘em. Both in the literal sense – just ask Sal Barone, found floating in Mars’s orbit with two of Pilot’s heels jammed into his throat – and in the financial sense – like how for a year after, every crime boss in Hyperion paid Pilot hand over fist for a pair like the one that killed Barone. Because Pilot Pereyra didn’t just organize crime: as mayor, they defined it. And if this was the whale the Piranha was gonna bring in… hell, maybe her getting away had been a good thing after all.

RAMSES: You’ve undergone the modifications to the Theia’s Rec Mode, haven’t you?

JUNO: ‘Course I have. I skipped physical therapy last week to do it. Theia, Rec Mode.

THEIA: Rec mode. Activated. Two hours of video storage. Remaining.

JUNO: That’s more like it!

THEIA: Error: Wireless uplink not found. Cannot transmit footage—

JUNO: What kind of low-rent eye did you get me, O’Flaherty?

THEIA: —Please connect to a physical uplink.

RAMSES: One day you’ll think of the Theia like your first car, Juno: all these quirks will just be part of its character. You’ll connect to a physical uplink later.

JUNO: And where the hell does that go?

THEIA: Caution: you don’t want to know.

JUNO: Fine, fine! Just zoom in, already.

THEIA: Zooming in.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIR.

JUNO: Damn it, they’re not even looking at each other. It’s like a junior high dance down there. If I could just hear what they’re saying…

THEIA: Suggestion: would you like me to activate. Lip reading protocol?

JUNO: Uhhh… s-sure… if you got a minute.

THEIA: Lip reading protocol. Activated.

SOUND: FUTURISTIC TECH-Y NOISES.

Compiling approximations of voices based on throat movement, infrared analysis, and audio recordings on public record.

SOUND: DING.

Application complete. You’re welcome.

SOUND: BEEP.

PILOT PEREYRA: Interested is definitely one word for it. It’s not every day that an employee tries to become a business partner. So. How much is it going to cost for that information to become my personal property?

PIRANHA: Oh, info’s been free for years, Mayor Pereyra. Information proliferates, see? Doubles, triples, and that don’t cost a dime. So the price ain’t on the info: that’s a gift. The price is on me applying that info for you, and that, well, that’s gonna cost a little more than you got on hand, I’m thinking.

PEREYRA: You’d be surprised how much I can get how quickly.

PIRANHA: (CHUCKLES) This is worth more. Used right, this little legend could be worth more than the whole damn city. And it could fit just right into your next big move. I just want to get in on the ground floor, see? Nothing wrong with that.

PEREYRA: (LAUGHING) Oh, buddy, I think you’re a little confused about what’s going on here.

JUNO: Whoa. Ramses, Mayor Pereyra just pulled a gun on her I– I think. It’s just a bulge in their coat, but… how long has that been there?

Uh-oh.

PEREYRA: What is it now?

JUNO: Theia, zoom in.

SOUND: MECHANICAL WHIR.

Big guy, brown jacket, standing under a lamppost. I think he might be watching me.

RAMSES: Of course. It makes sense that Pilot would have someone covering them.

JUNO: Well, they’ll have to wait. I still don’t have what I need.

RAMSES: Juno…

JUNO: Theia, lip reading again.

SOUND: BEEP.

PEREYRA: The payment’s a gift. Either you’re stepping away from this, or I’m pushing you off. Up to you, really.

PIRANHA: Oh, scary Mayor Pereyra, please don’t. (LAUGHS) I know you like to make inconvenient people disappear. That’s why I’ve made myself as convenient as possible. A luxury you can’t live without, see? Like air conditioning. Or those grocery carts that push themselves. (LAUGHS)

PEREYRA: Just remember who works for who, okay? I’ve got the entire HCPD in my pocket, and that means, I know how often little administrative mistakes happen. Real stupid things, like, uh, putting someone in solitary and losing their papers. Shuffling someone into the life-sentence pile when you meant to put them in the parking-ticket pile. Little stuff.

PIRANHA: I get it. Play nice or get off the court. Easy enough.

So what’s the plan? When do we do the job?

PEREYRA: Preparations are all set. You’ll be in there. Midnight.

JUNO: Midnight tonight?! …Ramses, they’re going to hit the Museum of Colonized history tonight!

…Ramses?

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

THEIA: Caution: your comms has been. Disconnected.

JUNO: What?!

THEIA: Transmission interference detected.

JUNO: You’ve gotta be—

…kidding me.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was another person on the roof with me. They were over by the fire escape I’d used to climb up here hours ago. For a second all I could do was wonder how the hell they’d gotten up from the street so fast… until I realized it wasn’t the same person I saw down there. Brown coat, sure, but where the other was broad-shouldered and looked like somebody I might want to buy me a drink or two, this one was thinner, flightier, and more nervous. They were making a big point of not looking at me, scraping something off one shoe with the other, checking their watch, looking at the dome flickering overhead, trying to look… casual? I think? There was a bulge in their coat that might’ve been a comms jammer. Or a gun. Or a whole lot of other unpleasant things.

THEIA: Target is fifty feet away. Recommended course of action: blaster fire.

JUNO: You got real chatty after that update.

THEIA: Target. Approaching.

JUNO: I’m not gonna shoot ‘em, alright? Just keep translating what Pereyra’s saying. They’re getting to the good part and then I can get out of here.

SOUND: BEEP.

PEREYRA: All security in there’s got a panic button for instant lockdown, but, so long as you don’t get seen, there’s nothing wrong with a late-night visit to the museum.

So you’ve got the codex, huh? How many square miles does that thing cover?

PIRANHA: The whole city. (CHUCKLES) That’s a lot of information, Pilot. If we get it.

PEREYRA: When we get it. You have to visualize. You have to believe.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I couldn’t help it – hearing those footsteps, feeling my heart race: I glanced over my shoulder.

THEIA: Target is fifteen feet away.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The distance was bad – but it wasn’t the distance that made my blood run cold. It was what I saw on their chest as they pulled their lapel back.

THEIA: Firearm detected.

JUNO (NARRATOR): No, wasn’t that either. It was the thing right underneath the gun: a badge, with the letters HCPD shining on it.

And that was bad. Because to the dirty cops in the HCPD – so, most of ‘em – Pilot Pereyra was their ringleader. If I threatened Pilot, the cops wouldn’t bother with a trial. They’d pretty much go straight to the chair. Not the electric one, just one they’d shoot me in.

The cop had stopped pretending not to see me now. They pulled the gun.

VOICE: Freeze!

THEIA: Calculating distance to next rooftop.

VOICE: If you’re waiting for backup, you’re not gonna get it. I have this area checked. You’re alone.

JUNO: Nope, not waiting for backup.

THEIA: Next rooftop is within. Jumping distance.

JUNO: Just stalling on this next part, ‘cause I’m gonna hate it. Bye!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE: Hey! Get back here! I said freeze!

THEIA: For optimal timing, jump in three… two… one…

JUNO: (SCREAMS)

SOUND: THUD.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was a beautiful flight. It was a beautiful landing. And, just to finish the set: the cop made a beautiful shot.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

JUNO: (GRUNTS)

VOICE: (DISTANT, FADING) Crazy idiot, jumping that far – don’t move! Not that you can! Oh, what a day, what a day, get a call from my landlord, now this…

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: SLAP.

VOICE: Wake up.

I said wake up.

SOUND: SLAP. DISTANT MUSIC.

JUNO: Wow, this alarm is annoying. You mind hitting snooze for me?

SOUND: SLAP.

Ow! Ow, okay, I’m up.

VOICE: About time. And if you want to stay awake, you’ll tell me what you know.

JUNO: I… don’t want to stay awake – that’s kind of what I just said.

VOICE: What? Don’t question my threats!

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: Wow, you got a lot of slaps in you, huh? This pretty much your whole playbook for interrogations, or can I expect some surprises?

VOICE: You want surprises, huh? Hm, I’ll get you some surprises…

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I wanted them off me for a second so I could get my bearings. I was tied to a chair in a room with concrete walls, cold, damp air, tools hanging from hooks across from me. My first thought was medieval torture chamber. My correct thought, a few seconds later, was suburban basement.

When the cop was on their way back, I got a look at the name on their uniform. “L-T L-O-O,” it said. Lieutenant Loo. Never heard of ‘em.

SOUND: DISTANT, MUFFLED VOICES.

VOICE (LOO): So, now that I’m prepared… do I have to send a laser through your head, or are you going to tell me what I want to hear?

JUNO: You’re a natural-born leader and that eyeshadow looks great on you.

LOO: What?

JUNO: Do you all wear coats like that? Yours looks a little nicer than your buddy’s on the street, but I—

LOO: Coats? My buddy on the str– what are you talking about?

JUNO: If you don’t know? Nothin’.

LOO: But—

JUNO: So what were you doing on that roof, anyway? Funny place to take a walk.

LOO: I was gonna ask you the same thing.

JUNO: Not very original of you.

LOO: It was my plan first!

You’re the one tied to the chair! Why am I answering the questions?

JUNO: I don’t know. Why are you?

LOO: Low self-esteem and a natural tendency to follow orders– oh, damn it! (GROANS) Look. I know you were watching Mayor Pereyra. What did you see?

JUNO: No idea what you’re talking about.

SOUND: SLAP.

Ow! Slaps? Again? You’re holding a gun!

LOO: Shut up! Tell me what you saw!

SOUND: SLAP.

JUNO: Ow, quit it!

LOO: Not til you tell me what you…

That looks like a cybernetic eye. You didn’t record anything, did you?

JUNO (NARRATOR): The hardest part of any interrogation is the balancing of information: figuring out how much the other person knows, how much they want to know, how much you know, how much you can make them think you know, and, most importantly, how little you can make them think you know.

LOO: So? Did you?

JUNO: Yeah, what’s it to you? Since when has recording people without their permission been a crime?

LOO: Send me the footage. Now.

JUNO: Rather not.

LOO: Send me that footage, or I pull the trigger.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

JUNO: Not gonna help you any. Eye’s worked into my brain – that’s how it does all these weird things like make me shoot faster and speed up my reflexes and give me this one dream over and over again where I’m falling into a giant birthday cake that has my mother’s voice. You kill me, and all the data on it gets scrambled.

LOO: Just send me the footage, then.

JUNO: Love to, once we get to the station. Why didn’t you bring me to the station, anyway? I mean, this is a nice basement, but still. How’re the kids?

LOO: The what?

JUNO: You’ve got half a dozen sand-sleds up against the wall over there. I can tell at least three of your kids are little because one, those mittens are tiny and adorable, and two, all the left ones are missing.

LOO: Those aren’t… I-I’m not…

JUNO: Taking your dirty cop business into your home, huh? Pilot Pereyra covers your boots in mud and you track it all inside?

LOO: Mayor Pereyra? But I wasn’t—

JUNO: The hell are your kids gonna think of you, Loo? Embarrassing. A train wreck.

LOO: Oh! This isn’t my house!

SOUND: DISTANT, MUFFLED CRYING.

Damn it, now look what you made me do!

JUNO: You’re a cop who breaks into people’s basements for interrogations? What’s wrong with you?

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS. CRYING GETS LOUDER.

CAPTAIN KHAN: (DISTANT) Loo! What the hell is goin’ on down there?

LOO: (YELPS) Captain Khan! I-I-I-I didn’t mean—

SOUND: DOOR SLAMS SHUT. STOMPING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Captain… Khan?

KHAN: You done questioning him yet? You show up at my apartment with someone in a damn duffel bag and then you wake the baby?!

Oh, no. No, no– d-agh, God damn it, it’s you!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Omar Khan was a good guy – and that’s why he’s one of the only cops in Hyperion City that I never wanted to deal with. The other ones you could punch all you wanted and never feel bad about it, but Khan… was clean. And that meant I had to play nice, or else…

Nothing, okay? I’d just feel bad. I liked Khan. He was a good cop. He became the Captain of my old precinct after I left and he’d really turned the place around, or… so I heard. And that meant the world was a better place with him in it. Or whatever. Ugh.

Also probably worth saying that Khan didn’t feel the same way about me.

KHAN: Loo, you moron! You didn’t tell me the Nosy Nanette you brought in was Juno goddamn Steel!

LOO: Am I supposed to know who this is?

KHAN: Oh, right. You’re new.

JUNO: Come on, Loo. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that the first thing you’re supposed to do at a new job is catch up on the old gossip?

KHAN: We can’t trust a goddamn word Steel here says! Didn’t anyone tell you about the Hijikata case?

LOO: The… what? Please?

KHAN: You got spaghetti in those ears, Loo? Don’t they teach you curiosity in diaper-school anymore? Captain Hijikata! Of the one-five-one, our goddamn precinct! It was the case of the damn decade and this walking pile of nitroglycerin decided to—

JUNO: We really don’t need to get into the details, thanks.

KHAN: We can’t trust him. Especially when it comes to taking down someone reeeally big. Steel’s a glory-pig. Honor-hound. Wh-whatever. Anyway, why’s he here? You said this had something to do with our op?

JUNO: ‘Course it does, Captain. I’m gonna help you take down somebody really big.

KHAN: What?!

LOO: Uh… he’s telling the truth, Captain Khan. He— (GULPS) …saw the meeting.

KHAN: And where the hell were you?!

LOO: Seeing him… seeing the meeting.

Traffic was really bad and I got a call I had to take I’m sorry.

KHAN: God damn it! After months we finally get someone on the inside with Pereyra just to get the details on this meeting and you missed it because you were on the comms?! How the hell are we gonna pin them now? You got another sting ready to go, Loo? Do you? In the next four goddamn days?!

JUNO: So that’s what all this is? A sting to catch Pilot?

KHAN: Of course it is! The hell do you think we are, some kinda sneaky-sneak on-the-take-takers? No way. We’re— (COUGHING) We’re the good cops.

JUNO: …There are… only two of you.

KHAN: ‘Course there aren’t only two of us, blockhead! There are– I don’t know, four or five, at least.

LOO: Captain, there are more than five—

KHAN: Well, I’ve never counted, alright? Maybe you don’t give two ding-dongs about doing the right thing, Steel, but some of us are busy trying to make the world a little better! We’ve been tailing Pereyra for months, and I’m not gonna let you get in my way.

JUNO: Not planning on it, Captain.

KHAN: Oh. That’s– nice.

(CLEARS THROAT) So, uh… did you see what they were talking about?

JUNO: Yeah.

KHAN: You wanna tell us?

JUNO: Nah.

KHAN: I knew it! You weasel! You skink! You… momonga!

JUNO: Don’t know what’s got you so upset, Khan. I wasn’t lying. I’m not gonna stand in your way – I’m just not gonna say anything unless I get to come along for the ride.

KHAN: What?!

LOO: There might be one way around it, Captain. He said he recorded it all. On his… eye.

KHAN: On his…!

…on his eye. Hmmmm.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Hey, look at that. You didn’t have that last time I saw you. Where’d you get it, Steel?

JUNO: Left my real eye under my pillow and the eyeball fairy dropped it off.

KHAN: Doing something illegal is my guess. For one of your usual business partners. Valles Vicky, Clark the Shark, Cecil Kanagawa… something that’d leave a trail, I’ll bet.

JUNO: You’re close enough that your mustache is leaving a trail into my mouth, Khan. Back off.

KHAN: (GROWLS)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

Lieutenant!

LOO: Yes, sir!

KHAN: I want as much data as you can get on everyone Steel’s talked to for the past three weeks. Pull from Security Office databanks, private camera feeds, everything. How long’d that take you?

LOO: About two days, sir.

KHAN: Meanwhile I want you to get Goren to look into that eye: make, model, most importantly, how to pull the data out of the damn thing. Tell her she has a day and a half.

LOO: Yes, sir!

KHAN: Ha-ha! You hear that, Steel? We got you this time. Either you tell us what you saw, or in two days, we’ll know.

JUNO: Y’know, Khan, I got to hand it to you: that’s pretty impressive. Two days is fast.

KHAN: You bet your booper it is.

JUNO: But not fast enough to make it in time for Pereyra’s heist tonight.

KHAN: …What’d he just say?

LOO: I think he said… that Mayor Pereyra’s gang is going to do a heist tonight.

JUNO: At midnight, specifically.

LOO: At midnight, specifically.

KHAN: Yeah, yeah, I heard him.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Poor Khan looked like a balloon with all the air let out. Or, maybe just a balloon that was depressed. And that meant I was playing the interrogation game right. I’d given them just enough info to make them think I knew more – to make them want to work with me. And sure, I didn’t actually know more; but so long as they didn’t ask for anything else, that never had to be a problem.

KHAN: No, no no, wait, you know what – I don’t buy it. You could’ve just made that up. Might not know a damn thing, could’ve just made up some heist tonight to get us going. No. I think we’re gonna wait the two days. But thanks for the intel.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Well, so much for “not a problem.”

But interrogation’s like a high-stakes card game, and that means there are two ways to win. Either you actually get a good hand… or you bluff. Last card game I played like this, I wasn’t the one bluffing.

Wasn’t alone, either.

But no matter what I wanted, I was alone now. So I played my last card… and I bluffed.

JUNO: It’s in the Museum. Pilot told their gang to hit the Museum of Colonized History at midnight tonight and I know what they’re gonna steal.

LOO: Huh?!

KHAN: Huh. That’s… specific.

And if it’s supposedly tonight, it’s not like we’d have to wait long to find out if he’s lying.

LOO: But the Museum of Colonized History is huge, Captain! If it’s just the two of us, how can we be sure we’re going to check the right part? While we’re in the North Wing, the mayor’s gang could be robbing the South Wing.

JUNO: Captain, look. I know you’ve got a million reasons not to trust me on this. I know my reputation’s not exactly sparkling, and one time I tried to steal classified evidence off your desk, and later that same day I handcuffed you to a car, which was very funny, but also very wrong, probably.

KHAN: Steel—!

JUNO: And I know you probably have a million good reasons to take Pilot down and I might only have one but it’s a pretty damn good one, so I just. Need. To be there. Tonight. …Okay?

KHAN: (GROWLS)

LOO: Captain. This close to the election, this might be our last chance. If we could just get one person from Mayor Pereyra’s gang to talk—

KHAN: Alright, alright, fine. I’ll babysit the P.I. You happy?

JUNO: I’m happy.

KHAN: But listen up, Steel. When I’ve got the scent of something big, you’d better not get in my way. You try it, I’ll show you just how scary Omar Khan can get. Got me?

SOUND: DISTANT DOOR OPENS.

VOICE: Omar! We just got another one of those letters from the landlord! Do you want me to open it, or—

KHAN: Damn it, Noor, I told you I’m doing business down here!

VOICE (NOOR): Oh, do you have some friends over? Did you ask them if they want some pasta?

KHAN: I said we’re busy!

NOOR: Omar! What kind of a host are you! You drag them into the basement, let them make all this noise, wake the baby—

KHAN: ALRIGHT, FINE!

Do either of you want pasta?

(SIMULTANEOUSLY) LOO: No thank you. JUNO: I’m good.

KHAN: They don’t want pasta!

NOOR: What?

KHAN: I SAID THEY DON’T WANT PASTA!

Are you sure?

JUNO: Yeah, thanks, I’m all set—

LOO: Actually, I am a little hungry.

KHAN: Nevermind, I’ll come up and get two bowls in a minute, Noor! Thank you! I love you very much and I’m glad we’re working on our communication!

(PANTING) Ah– alright. So, like I said: all business, Steel. You’d better get used to that. First, farfalle; then, you and I take a little trip to the museum.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

JUNO (NARRATOR): In P.I. work, a real big lie is like a summer rainstorm: it comes on suddenly, it’s really hard to get out from under, and it’ll burn just all your skin off if you don’t get dry quick. Summer’s pretty rough on Mars.

I’d told a whopper of a lie back in Khan’s basement, and I’d gotten soaked before we ever made it to the museum. All it took was nine words, said while Loo was driving us:

KHAN: So where in the museum are they gonna hit?

JUNO: I, uh, told you, Khan, if I say that, you’ve got no reason to bring me.

KHAN: Yeah, whatever, keep your secrets if you want, I don’t care. But the Lieutenant at least needs to know which door to drop us off at.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Museum of Colonized History is huge: blocks and blocks of dome prototypes and early terraforming pods and the mummified remains of the first space-colonists. If I picked a door at random, we’d miss the heist entirely, and there went my lead.

So what did I know? Not much. The Piranha shared some intel with Pilot, but it wasn’t enough on its own; there was something in here with information on it, and Pilot wouldn’t know how to read it without the Piranha.

One of the last things I’d picked up before Loo zapped me was a word: “codex.” A codex that covers the entire city. I had no idea what that meant, not yet, except for one thing: there was one wing of the Museum dedicated to things that covered the entire city.

KHAN: So? You’d better have something, Steel.

JUNO: The Hall of Maps. West entrance should get us there. Come on, Loo, you better speed this thing up; we don’t want to be late again.

LOO: I know, I know.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Loo dropped us off at the Hall of Maps at 11:30. We crawled through the window and crept past walls covered with old paper and flickering diodes, images of a thousand sprawling Marses measured and cut-up and categorized. There were maps from throughout the ages: before the telescope, before the terraforming pod, before the transgalactic travel engine.

It was beautiful, or whatever. But there was one thing that stuck out to me most of all:

JUNO: God, this place stinks.

KHAN: You get a free pass to the wonders of human progress and all you can think about is the smell?

JUNO: Yeah, basically. I hate that musty old hard drive stink. Just mold and motherboard-termites.

KHAN: It’s history, damn it! These are the maps that invented space colonization, Steel! You wouldn’t be here without ‘em!

JUNO: So that’s a con. Got any pros?

KHAN: (GROWLS) It’s not worth talking to a punk about the unpunkable. You couldn’t see the value of these maps if they reached out and tickled your whiskers.

JUNO: Anyway, why do you care? Aren’t you from Earth?

KHAN: (GROWLS)

JUNO: If you want history, Earth’s got thousands of years on literally anywhere else – you don’t have to travel thirty-four million miles to find history. People leave a mess everywhere they go.

KHAN: Sometimes a place means more than just itself. It’s an idea, or a promise, or… something. And even if that promise doesn’t get kept, it means you can go there and expect them to keep it. Demand they keep it. You know what I mean?

JUNO: I… huh, I-I do, actually, but, what promise—

KHAN: It’s like with my Little Mom. Made this curried lasagna every Tuesday for Big Mom. You do that long enough, it’s like a promise, right? Gotta keep a promise, or it goes bad. We’re all just like egg-noodles in the lasagna, skim milk in the sauce. Never should’ve thrown out that recipe.

JUNO: And hey, just like that, I lost you.

Found someone else, though. Hide!

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

VOICE 1: (DISTANT) Hallway B is clear. Moving on target.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

KHAN: You get a good look at ‘em?

JUNO: It’s pitch black in here, Khan, of course I didn’t get a good look at ‘em.

THEIA: May I suggest. Night-vision mode.

JUNO: …Yet. Did not get a good look yet. Will in a second. Come on, follow them.

SOUND: SOFT ELECTRIC HUM.

THEIA: Night-vision mode. Activated.

JUNO: Looks like they’re armed, and… it’s hard to make anything else out from this far away.

KHAN: Gun sounds like a good reason to stay far away to me.

JUNO: Unless they’re one of the gang’s lookouts – then we can’t risk losing ‘em.

KHAN: Muh, alright. Then I guess we’ll just stay far away from close up.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: Wait, they stopped!

VOICE 1: Reporting in. Just heard a noise outside the First Light Room. I’m gonna go check it out.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: Damn it, damn it, damn it!

KHAN: Don’t get your petticoat in a twist just yet, Steel.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Looks like our burglar oughta burgle some better ears. He’s walking away from us.

JUNO: He’s headed into that exhibit. Follow him.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP. RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

VOICE 1: Didn’t find anything. Returning to group.

SOUND: WALKIE-TALKIE BEEP.

JUNO: You hear that? He’s going back!

KHAN: So?

JUNO: So we have to pick ‘em off one by one, don’t we? Learn what we can from each one, and then—

KHAN: Hang on. Something’s not right here.

What the hell are they trying to steal, exactly?

JUNO: I told you, I’m not gonna—

KHAN: —because you needed to come along, you said. Well, now you’re along. It sounds like we’re in the room they’re robbing.

JUNO: And while you’re wasting time, he’s gonna get away!

KHAN: So tell me, Steel. What are they stealing?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Sitting there in the dark, with Khan’s hand on my shoulder, all I could think about was that this was our moment and we were letting it pass us by. Because at the tail end of every failure case, there’s always one moment you can look back at and say to yourself, “I should have taken the shot.” A single mistake. A moment that you can beat yourself up about for years. Thinking about how if you’d just done it, if you’d just jumped when the time came to jump, it all would’ve worked out in the end.

Staring at that shadow in the doorway, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to let this be that moment.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

KHAN: Steel, what– what the hell are you doing, Steel? Get back here!

JUNO (NARRATOR): “I’m not gonna look back at this and wish I’d done something,” I thought.

And I was right. Later I’d look back and wish I hadn’t done anything.

JUNO: Hmf!

VOICE 1: Oof!

SOUND: HEAVY THUD. RUSTLING.

JUNO: Alright, buddy, you’re gonna tell me what your gang is after, and you’re gonna tell me now.

KHAN: Steel, he’s reaching for something!

JUNO (NARRATOR): So I panicked.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

VOICE 1: (GRUNTS)

KHAN: …A gun? Where the hell did you get a—

When did you take my gun?!

SOUND: ALARM.

God damn it, what now?

PIRANHA: (DISTANT) Ugh, the alarm! Unless you want a laser through each of your thick skulls, you’re gonna find who hit that god damn alarm, see!

JUNO: Come on, we have to hide. We’ll let the Piranha clean up her own mess.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

PIRANHA: Well? You see anybody?

PEREYRA: Hey there, no reason to get all excited. Looks like our party crasher just crashed.

KHAN: That voice… is that Mayor Pereyra?

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was. The Piranha. Two goons. And Pilot Pereyra.

What the hell were they doing here? Why the hell would a crime boss on Pilot’s level show up to their own heist?

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense.

KHAN: Oh, no. No way, no how.

JUNO: What?

KHAN: That fancy eye of yours make you soft in the cerebellum? Look at that gangster’s face! She doesn’t recognize that poor sucker you just knocked out!

PIRANHA: Well, well. Just who the hell are you?

PEREYRA: Looks like a museum security guard. And it sounds like he flipped quite the alarm.

PIRANHA: Damn it, I thought you said you knew the patrol schedule!

PEREYRA: Hey, Pilot Pereyra makes the trains run on time, but I never promised to make the guards do the same.

PIRANHA: (GROWLS) Alright. If that’s how you wanna play it… plan B. We’ll have to blow our escape plan, but—

PEREYRA: Leave the escape to me. Now. Show us how it’s done.

PIRANHA: Fine. Hey, you. What’s your name?

VOICE 2: His name’s Mike. He doesn’t talk.

PIRANHA: Good for him. Hold this comms, Mike. We’re gonna take a home movie.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The Piranha stepped closer to the guard I’d stunned.

And she pointed her gun right at his head.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

The Piranha’s flashlight caught his badge and I saw his name and… I’d never unsee it again: Barton Pollock. Barton. Sounded like my brother’s name, if you thought it fast enough, if your mind was spinning around it. Bart to his friends, or Barty? Kids, husband, wife, friends?

I felt so sick that when Pilot stepped forward, hand up, I even let myself get hopeful for a second.

PEREYRA: Hey, hey now… let’s not rush in without thinking, alright?

PIRANHA: You said solve it my way, so I’m solving it my way, see? You have a problem?

PEREYRA: I do, actually.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Maybe they’ve got a soul after all, I thought. Maybe this city isn’t as bad off as I thought it was.

PEREYRA: Your blaster’s on stun. Better set it to kill – you can tell the difference on video.

JUNO (NARRATOR): That thought didn’t last long.

PIRANHA: Thanks, Mx. Mayor. Start rolling, Mikey.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEP.

Dear Museum of Colonized History Security Force, HCPD nightowls, late-night comms scanners and all other busybodies: we know right about now all you got blasted with a hell of an alarm from this exhibit, and we know you’d probably like to do something about it.

Well. Me and my associates invite you to consider a different option, see: we got about a half-dozen hostages here we was hoping to trade for clean getaway, but if any of you flash so much as a siren? Well. We might just have to do something to those good citizens. Something… like… this.

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT.

JUNO: No way. No way, no way, no way…

KHAN: (GRUNTS)

PIRANHA: Your move, coppers. (CACKLES) We’ll call again in fifteen minutes. Cut the feed, Mikey.

SOUND: BEEP.

How’s that for style?

PILOT: Not bad. Just… make sure I don’t end up in frame.

PIRANHA: I’m a professional, ain’t I? Now let’s go check on the hostages – and our map.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

JUNO: I can’t believe… I can’t believe she killed him. While he was out cold. Khan, what do we do?

Captain?

KHAN: Never should’ve listened to you. Damn it, god damn it, I knew I should’ve waited. I knew it!

JUNO: What…?

KHAN: You don’t know a thing about this heist, do you? You didn’t know the guard. You didn’t know Pereyra was gonna be here. You knew a little, sure, enough to dupe me. But this was all just another Juno Steel lie, wasn’t it?

JUNO: The heist was tonight. So what if I didn’t know everything? You were gonna sit back and just let it happen.

KHAN: You think that guard’s kids care which of us was right?

I can’t even blame you. I’m the one who listened. I’m the one you took the gun from. Damn it, I should’ve waited. Damn it!

JUNO: Khan?

KHAN: Just shut up and give me my gun.

JUNO: …Okay.

KHAN: We rushed in, that’s the problem. And now we’re… here.

(CLEARS THROAT) But it’s not gonna happen again, Steel.

MUSIC: STARTS.

You hear me? From here, we do it the way we always shoulda: slow. And nobody dies anymore, you hear me?

JUNO: Slow? But Captain—

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Khan grabbed me by the coat and pulled me so close I could smell the pasta on his breath – and see his eyes twitching, wild. Scared.

KHAN: We do this by the book. And the book says nobody. Dies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Khan was in the kind of mood right then that you don’t argue with, so I didn’t. Didn’t tell him what I thought: that I had no idea what book he was talking about, but any book that tells you nobody’s gonna die is lying. Because you can romanticize the past all you want; put it in a nice case with a tasteful little plaque next to it, but the fact is, that the book of time is written in blood. Elections, colonization, policework… you don’t get the fancy statues and the pretty maps without dropping a few bodies along the way. Which isn’t to say those people deserved to die, or that their killers deserved to live. Just, that history is only written by those who live long enough to write it.

Barton Pollock didn’t deserve to die.

Yasmin Swift didn’t deserve to die.

I can’t even swallow the idea that the Proctor deserved to die, not while there was a way around it. But the fact was that they were dead and I was alive, and that had been the price to get to this moment… for now.

I was sure it would cost more before we were done. It always did. The best I could hope to do was make sure the right person footed the bill… even if that meant paying up myself.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Kate Jones, Avi Meehan, and Joshua Ilon, and co-creator Sophie Kaner:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: …Well I also think that, I’m sure, Joshua and Kate can, um, relate to… playing themselves. (LAUGHS)

KATE: What?

JOSHUA: I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.

AVI: Oh, can I say one more thing?

SOPHIE: Yeah!

AVI: Can I say one more thing? Can—

SOPHIE: Say two! Say three!

AVI: I think, another thing that was really exciting was, um I’m a non-binary hume [is this a word?], and getting the opportunity to play a non-binary character was sooo gosh-dang exciting for me, just because it’s sort of like, ‘alright, you’re small, you look kind of– you, you’re just a girl!’ And I’m like…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Francie Liana, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, Lynné Herman, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Stolen City, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Elliot Sicard as Captain Omar Khan, Avi Meehan as Lieutenant Loo, Simon Moody as Mayor Pilot Pereyra, Sophie Kaner as the Piranha, Matthew Zahnzinger as Ramses O’Flaherty, and Kate Jones as Noor Khan.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel