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inoreuct · 3 months

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ZOSAN POLICEMAN/CYBORG SIDEKICK AU

inspired by me talking to reg after work and thinking about sanji fighting after a full shift at the baratie and then saying he must have heels of steel. lesgo.

zoro’s a police officer because of course he is. his lifestyle’s insanely militaristic and according to luffy, insanely mundane; he goes to bed at eight every night and has been wearing the same three white t-shirts for the past ten years. don’t even start about his socks— most of them are more hole than fabric. he has more emotional attachment to those things that a ballerina to her toe pads.

he has a pretty high position in the police force and his underlings are constantly trying to get him out to dinner or the bar, and he always says NO. he has to hit the gym. or go for a run. or go to kendo practice. that 1st dan rank of his doesn’t maintain itself.

anyway something big goes down that has the whole department up in a frenzy and zoro’s put in charge of it; he’s fully ready to take on the case and the investigations. chasing down crooks and pulling corrupt happenings into the light is his specialty. he gets the job done because he never changes his methods and he works just fine alone.

enter stage right: blackleg sanji.

blond. brilliant. beautiful. he’s a disarming smile and luscious golden hair wrapped up in a pretty silvery bow before you realise he could actually. like. strangle you with the ribbon. he could literally break more than half the bones in your body without breaking a sweat and then meet his friends for dinner after.

he got his namesake from the parts of him that aren’t quite human; everything below mid-thigh is reinforced carbon-fibre, sleek and dark gray. his veins are wires, his muscles pistons— there are knives hidden in his heels and there’s a gun in his right kneecap with a flamethrower in the other. he’s proficient in muay thai, savate, and kickboxing. he’s a badass. end of story.

judge, his biological father, is a high-ranking government official/scientist in charge of a military project called GERMA66. he mechanically engineered his children into the perfect supersoldiers by quite literally brainwashing and rebuilding them. think bucky barnes in the winter soldier, but more fucked up because these are his KIDS.

in any case. sora makes fucking sure that she plays a big enough part in sanji’s upbringing that he fights the mental conditioning and manages to get away before judge does everything he had planned. zeff takes him in, raises this snot-nosed little kid in the back of his restaurant for eleven years, and every part of sanji that counts takes after zeff and his mother.

(zeff’s also friends with garp, who happens to be luffy’s grandfather, and luffy happens to be zoro’s best friend and routine patrol buddy. small world.)

judge managed to make it so the mechanical enhancements would grow with the kids, so sanji doesn’t really need any adjustments. that doesn’t mean he didn’t get a little squeaky here and there, though, and zeff’s touch-ups with engine oil in the middle of the night can really only help so much.

and then he meets usopp, and then franky. they’re mechanics (technically) and mad geniuses (definitely) and they fix him right up. usopp’s the one who makes sure all his fuel and stuff is chemically optimal, and franky reinforces his hip with titanium to help his body withstand the sheer torque of his kicks. the grandma jokes are ENDLESS.

in any case, judge finds him. yeah. and sanji gets assigned to (read: forced to help) zoro and the mutual dislike/disdain/animosity is IMMEDIATE.

zoro thinks sanji’s a contrary asshole who starts fights for the sake of fighting. sanji thinks zoro’s just another law enforcer prick in cahoots with judge. they go on their first stakeout and almost get busted because they can’t stop biting and snipping at each other, but zoro gets grazed by a bullet in a shootout and that night they both sit a little quieter than they’re used to.

their bond forms slowly. they resist it at first but it’s just so easy to fall into step with one another, taking turns with offence and defence, trusting the other to fill whatever gaps in their attacks one of them alone can’t handle. they don’t bicker to intentionally hurt anymore— it’s more quips and harmless snark than anything. sanji cooks for the both of them and makes sure they don’t get malnourished while they’re off chasing baddies, and zoro helps him realign all the finicky little parts in his legs that aren’t big enough of a problem to warrant paying franky a visit. they’re good together, and it’s comfortable. they’re comfortable.

and then they realise that there’s something much bigger going on.

zoro’s feeling more and more uneasy as they unspool the thread of lies and motives because it’s starting to feel like the people they catch and bring in are being… targeted. like someone wants them out of the way.

he brings it up to sanji and the blond freezes. brushes it off like he hadn’t since the beginning and goes right on to talking about the next suspect on their list. a tiny voice at the back of zoro’s head tells him that something’s not right, but he brushes it aside for the time being and focuses on planning with sanji.

the feeling gets worse.

it all blows up one night when they’re having dinner in sanji’s apartment, and zoro’s staring at the plate of spinach pesto linguine in front of him with his fist clenched around his fork.

“what?” sanji laughs, scrubbing at the frying pan in the sink. “looking a bit too much like your hair?”

zoro swallows. “what’s going on?”

the air thickens, and zoro’s breath is shallow as sanji turns around. “what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean.” the blond’s been bitter lately, too much like how he’d been when they'd first met. it brings out something fiercely protective in zoro, underneath that initial glaze of anger, because he knows sanji well enough at this point to know when the other man’s being avoidant and not just secretive. sanji’s afraid of something and he’s running from it. there’s resentment in the way his spine curls, and it’s sour on zoro’s tongue because he knows it’s most likely directed at sanji himself.

sanji’s throat bobs as he turns away again, turning the tap on, but zoro doesn’t let up. “they’re innocent,” he continues, voice low. “they’re innocent and you know it. these people are being framed—”

“we don’t know that,” sanji interrupts.

“—we know,” zoro says fiercely. “you know it, curls, so what are you getting up to?”

the other man stays turned away, washing and drying calmly. the gears in his legs whirr as he shifts his weight.

“sanji.” zoro stands up and rounds the island, fingertips dragging over the countertop. “you know these people aren’t doing anything wrong and you’re still taking them in. tell me what’s going on.”

sanji takes a measured breath and tilts his head, before pushing out a short, “can’t.”

zoro can feel himself getting angry. it’s heat at the base of his skull, the back of his neck, the itch to grab his partner (they’re partners, now. what a thought.) by the shoulders and shake until he comes to his senses. sanji is kind. if zoro is sure of anything at all he’s sure of that. sanji is kind and he will fight to the fucking death to make sure justice is served with fairness, and this is how zoro knows that something is wrong.

WE NEED A PART 2 I HIT THE CHARACTER LIMIT

(part 2)

#one piece #zosan #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #one piece zosan #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #sanji #zoro #cyborg sanji au

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girlinlotsoffandoms · 2 months

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day thirteen - kidnapped

notes: day 13 and what do you know… another to be continued

read on AO3 or below

He should’ve known better.

Between finding the barrel of drugs and the warning from the scrap yard hanging over him, Kelly should’ve known better than to blindly run towards someone claiming to need help.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The word echoed through his mind with each hit and kick from his attackers. Kelly held his own for an admirable amount of time, getting in a few good hits even after he was grabbed and held from behind, but he was outnumbered.

One well-placed hit to the ribs took all the fight out of Kelly as he felt something snap and give way. Kelly groaned and doubled over, allowing the goon holding him to throw him to the ground. His head smacked against the pavement. Through the ringing in his ears, Kelly heard the five words that made his blood run cold.

“Throw him in the trunk.”

Before Kelly even knew what was happening, he was being grabbed and roughly thrown into the trunk of the SUV. His head collided with the frame and Kelly lost his hold on consciousness.

As the SUV sped away, the only evidence that anything had happened in that alley was the skid marks on the road, a few drops of blood, and Kelly’s cracked phone.

… … …

When Cruz walked out of the station, the last thing he was expecting to see was Severide’s car still there. The older man had been one of the first to leave when shift wrapped even though Stella and the rest of Truck hadn’t made it back from their last call. Granted, things between the two lieutenants were a little rocky right now, but they still usually always came in and went home together.

Cruz didn’t seem too concerned until he got closer and saw that Severide’s bag was in the passenger seat and the driver side door was open but Severide was nowhere to be found.

Cruz looked around, trying to find his Lieutenant but couldn’t see him anywhere. He did find Capp and Tony walking down the apron, Ritter and Herrmann just feet behind them.

“You guys seen Severide?”

“I thought he left already?” Capp asked. Cruz gestured to the parked car. “Guess not.”

Before they could say anything else, the sound of squealing tires distracted them. They turned to the street just in time to see a large black SUV peeling out of a nearby alleyway.

It wasn’t overtly suspicious at first—Chicago had some crazy drivers—but then the SUV pulled out into oncoming traffic, nearly causing an accident, and they all took notice. Cruz, Capp, Tony, Herrmann, and Ritter all hurried toward the alley to check on the car that had swerved to avoid the SUV.

The driver was shaken up and angry, but overall fine. As the driver drove off, Cruz and the others turned back to head back to the station and their own cars but something caught Ritter’s eye as they passed the alley.

“Guys, hold up,” Ritter said, moving into the alley. He stopped just a foot or two away from the cracked phone lying unaccompanied on the pavement.

Cruz saw the phone and a pit started growing in the pit of his stomach. Severide’s empty car, the man in question nowhere to be found, a suspicious SUV fleeing an alley, and a cracked iPhone…the pieces were adding up and Cruz didn’t like it. Pulling out his own phone, Cruz dialed Severide’s number. His fears were confirmed when the phone on the ground lit up, Cruz’s contact information visible through the cracks on the screen. “We need to get Boden.”

“Wait, is that blood?” Ritter asked, pointing at the spots of red near the phone.

Tension filled the alley as the four other men realized Ritter was right.

“Call CPD, I think Severide’s been kidnapped.”

… … …

Things happened very quickly after that.

Boden arrived at the entrance to the alley just moments before the first patrol car pulled up. After looking at the scene in the alley and getting initial statements, they called in reinforcements.

Soon the street was flooded with police cars. Officers were securing the scenes (the alley and Severide’s car), a few officers were getting more detailed statements from Cruz and the others, and a few other officers were pulling camera footage from the firehouse and nearby cameras.

With help from the timeframe Cruz and the others were able to give PD, they were able to find Severide on the cameras. There was no sound, so they couldn’t hear what was said, but they watched as Severide took off running behind the clearly panicked man that had approached him. One of the patrol officers pulled up another camera’s footage and was able to find Severide running into the alley, right into the proverbial lion’s den.

“Son of a bitch,” Cruz cursed. “He set Severide up!”

The group watched in shocked silence as the attack on Severide began. With every hit, kick, and punch on screen the men winced; it was a brutal thing to watch but it happening to someone they knew made it even worse.

Their stomachs dropped as they saw Severide drop to the ground and they watched, horrified, as he was picked up and thrown into the truck of the SUV. Their fears had been confirmed.

The officer watching the footage recognized one of the men in the alley and he made the call to request detectives from Narcotics. This was no longer a simple kidnapping.

It was something way bigger.

… … …

“Stella, there’s been an incident.”

Stella shared a look with Mouch in the front seat of 81. There was something in Boden’s usually gruff voice that made Stella uneasy.

Something was wrong. She could feel it.

“What’s going on Chief?”

Stella clutched her radio in her hand, anxiously waiting for Boden’s response. Dread started building in her stomach and her thoughts were racing, each scenario worse than the last.

Mason and Gallo, from their seats in the rear, leaned forward. Everyone in the truck was concerned and wanted to know what happened.

No one expected what Boden said next.

“Severide’s been abducted. You need to get back to 51.”

#febwhump #sev whump #kelly severide #chicago fire #mayday mayday #girlinlotsoffandoms fics

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cyarskj1899 · 1 year

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https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid023Sr3WbHh77hLeHGXhfSs8dV5149jwjNtNX6cA76zNhLc7aMKeKZFM7XH92SFf5Z5l&id=26423400230&mibextid=q5o4bk HOMELATESTCULTUREENTERTAINMENTBEAUTY/STYLEAWARDS SEASON 2023

LAW ENFORCEMENT

12 Incredibly Shady Things About the Tyre Nichols’ Investigation

Nichols' mother accused the Memphis PD of trying to cover it up.

Kalyn Womack

PublishedAn hour ago

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The first day the news broke about a fatal traffic stop in Memphis, we lacked proper details as to how Tyre Nichols ended up on a breathing machine over a DUI. Now, every news outlet is following the case as information from the police department and his family unravel the incidentfurther.

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CRIMINAL JUSTICELAW ENFORCEMENT

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aalt-ctrl-del · 1 year

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for the record, we haven't seen much fence building in leu of mass shootings. Don't get me wrong, we have fences built in proportion to a crime area - hire capita of violence and gun ratio to proximity of the public school.

After those groceries stores got shot to death in texas and buffalo, we do have stores with police chillin outside 24/7. There's always a police cruiser and a big guy with a bullet proof vest at the doors, it's like we got the armored bouncer than the greeter inside the walmart - everythings nice and civil.

But we don't get giant fences built around schools - we do have cops at the high schools, because big kids and big fights. But the elementary schools in my area don't have reinforced fences - the only fence I've see was around this black only school (condemne) in deep south texas. It had a pokestop, and a fence to keep out homeless.

Otherwise, no amount is made on a national level to build a fortress around schools with little kids.

We like to talk and argue about the measures to take to protect children, because as I always say, this must happen again. We must have another shooting, we must have more dead children. If you say, "no, that should not happen." That's like praying to god for the winning lottery numbers - maybe it will work for someone, but not for everyone.

Another school has to be shot to pieces. We have to have more thoughts and prayers. We need more mourning, more sorrow, more arguments, more of all this fallout and vigils for children who didn't make it to summer break. We have to we have to we have to we have to

We have to regulate guns

We have to build fences

We have to provide better security

We have to get big men with guns patrolling schools full of children

We have to have another shooting

All of these things will happen again. They must happen again. And if you're one of those easily triggered by this and go, "That's disgusting." "How dare you" "Monster"

Your passion is commendable, but think about the mantra "It must happen again" Cause we have fully accepted that we cannot, and will not try to indulge in the idea to implement competent measures to protect these children. republicans hiked their shoulders up and went, "Well, we can't do anything abou-- GOOD LORD IS THAT A MAN IN A DRESS?!? OMG IF THE CHILDREN SEE THAT THEY'LL BE SCARRED FOR LIFE. BAN IT! CRIMINALIZE IT! ZERO TOLERANCE! MONSTEROUS!!"

The Dems have at the least provided a means to mitigate and reduce these risks - eradicate certain caliber of guns, moderate munitions sales, apply more astringent background checks. It of course won't eliminate the outlier of the variable, but it will be the effort and motion toward accountability. We have better quality control over gravel and foundation laying, than we do weapons designed to kill multiple threats in a small margin of time. Hell, lemme bring in abortion restrictions - which remains restricted to affecting the family involved - a woman is not gonna take her uterus and cull a classroom of kids, but republicans treat each miscarriage and each masturbation like Noah and his Ark got sunk by a rogue ice berg.

It's not the political measure of robbing people of fictitious RIGHTS, it is the effort and acknowledgment of DOING BETTER. Of saying "in wake of this atrocity, we didn't do enough. But we will do better, and we are trying. We will investigate not why the person did this, but HOW and WHO armed them. We will explore if the arms merchant fulfilled all criteria to warrant the legal sale, and whether they should maintain a license to continue their business."

Every school day parents and guardians let go of their kids, so they can attend classes that prepare them for community involvement and eventual placement within our society. They sure as fuck don't send them off to conduct military style drills like we live in some war torn world, but that is the world that republicans have built, because they clutch tighter to the AR than they do their own kids. Their gun probably gets more psychological enrichment that their own child. THE GUN IS BETTER SHELTERED THAN THE AR.

republicans are so infantile and insecure about losing a rifle tomorrow, they don't even acknowledge that it is more likely tomorrow someone is gonna say goodbye to their kid, and it'll be last time they ever see that child in one piece. In one piece.

If you take a gun apart, you can still put it back together good as new, maybe better than before. But you take a 9 year old apart bone-by muscle- by skin - no mortician and no amount of skill will ever restore that child. Don't doubt, both the gun and child can have a lot in common. They'll both be cold and stiff.

#uvalde #nashville #texas #buffalo #tennessee #mass shooting #I discuss mostly children in these situations but no doubt the staff and teachers are heroes because they are cut down before the kids #but no amount of flesh between them and the gun saves those kids #once it walks into the school the casualties begin to tally

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taperwolf · 1 year

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Post about working dog breeds finding themselves work reminds me of the dog my parents had when I left home.

Matty (short for Mathilda, and occasionally Mathilda the Hun) was a purebred Great Pyrenees, though without formal papers; in the corner of Wyoming we were living in, they're bred as working dogs by the Basque sheepherders in the area. Dad's always liked working dogs; he grew up with border collies as cattle dogs on his father's ranch, and as the local US Forest Ranger, he was working with the Basque folks on their grazing allotments. Anyway, he got a puppy. She was a cute little thing, and when very young she had a gray mask — badger, I guess they call it — but she grew up huge and all white.

If you're not familiar with the breed, Great Pyrenees are closely related to St. Bernards and Newfoundlands; just huge, muscular white dogs. They're the sort of sheepdog that's not a herder, but a protector; they basically hang out with the sheep, blending in, and then if the flock is attacked by a coyote, wolf, or bear, they drive it off or kill it. (They've been known to take down cougars and grizzlies, though that's probably not the way to bet.) So as a family dog, they basically interpret the kids as their flock, and are very caring and affectionate.

They're also very smart and want to move around a lot, and this is where Matty got in trouble. Despite a sizable back yard and being taken for walks, she got in a habit of deciding she just wanted to be on the other side of the fence. So she'd undo the latch on the gate, or the latch on the other gate, and when those were reinforced, she started just vaulting the fence.

Now, this was a very small town — maybe 4000 people on a good day, including the surrounding area — but was absurdly over-policed. See, it wasn't so much one town as a half-dozen former company towns, once owned by the now defunct coal mines, and while most of those were absorbed by the one town's city limits, one of the other towns kept its political separatism, including its own city hall and accompanying law enforcement. So there were two different police agencies. The main town was also the county seat, so had the Sheriff's office, and also hosted an office for the state highway patrol. Really far too much law enforcement for a sleepy mountain town, most of the time, so the patrol officers relished having something to do. Like, say, bringing somebody's runaway dog home.

So Matty learned very quickly that any time she wanted, she could get out and run around the town to her heart's delight — and when she was tired or it was getting close to supper time, she could just find one of the eight or so marked police (/sheriff/highway patrol) cars out on the roads, flag it down, and she'd get a ride home.

#personal stories #dogs #mathilda the hun

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proppertacticalclothing · 2 years

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#policeboots #bestpoliceboots

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years

Photo

“Jap Riot,” Vancouver Sun. May 14, 1942. Page 2. ---- Japanese began their disturbance about noon. They clamored and gestured at the windows, while about 40 of their compatriots, mostly women, watched from a little distance on the CPR ramp and railway embankment at the foot of Burrard Street.

Shouting grew louder, and the incarcerated Japs set out to take their quarters apart. Top-storey windows wore smashed, the glass tinkling into the street. One group wrenched an iron window-grating free and hurled it to the pavement.

While armed guards were rushed to the scene, the Japs smashed furniture, knocked plaster from the walls, floated tissue streamers from the broken windows. FIRE HOSE They rushed a fire hose to one window, and turned the jet on the nearest guard, and on others when they moved in.

Shouts of "Banzai!" flew between the rioters and the Nipponese audience outside.

Before the riot was quelled with the aid ot reinforcements, bed springs and several more window gratings had crashed to the street.

Damage to buildings and com tents was considerable, but Immigration officials declined to comment, pointing out that they "merely supply a roof" for the Japanese concerned until they are moved to Interior camps.

City police, stood by. Since the building is Federal property, they took no part in the disturbance. They did keep a growing crowd of white spectators well back, however. CPR police joined soldiers with fixed bayonets in patrolling all approaches to the building.

"There was nothing malicious about the trouble," said Austin Taylor, commission chairman. "It was more playful than anything else.

"Some of the Japanese just got a little fed up about being kept in the building, and got a little exuberant. There was more yelling than anything else."

“Riot Sequel: Japanese Will Be Interned,” Vancouver Sun. May 14, 1942. Page 1. --- Military Guards Patrol Scene Of Ruckus --- Japanese who smashed windows and furniture in a riot at Vancouver Immigration Building Wednesday will be interned immediately, Hon. Humphrey Mitchell, Minister of Labor, announced at Ottawa today.

While Mr. Mitchell told the House of Commons that summary action would be the Government's answer to the outbreak, first of its kind since evacuation of Nipponese from the Pacific Coast began, uneasy peace prevailed at the three-storey waterfront building here.

It is a peace maintained by military guards with fixed bay-onets.

MORE GUARDS Guards at the building where the Japanese are held will be increased.

Coast Japanese are being moved east of the Cascade Mountains as fast as possible, Mr. Mitchell told George Cruickshank (Lib., Fraser Valley), who asked questions' about the disorders at Vancouver.

Mr. Mitchell said the Hastings Park camp where Japanese are held prior to being moved east of the mountains is not a permanent establishment, and will be used by the national defense department as soon as the Japanese are moved out.

DELAY IN OTTAWA First reports were that the Japs staged their orgy of Banzai-shouting and wholesale destruction as . a protest against an order prohibiting relatives and friends from talking to them through their barred windows.

While this order probably touched off the disturbance, The Vancouver Sun learned that the incident comes as the climax of a two-week period of waiting behind bars, during which Ottawa failed to issue instructions for removal of the Japs to camps elsewhere in Canada.

Those held at the Immigration Building, it is understood, are males who failed to report to B.C. Security Commission, and were ordered "picked up." They were rounded up by the RCMP and turned over to military authorities, who kept them under guard in the building at the foot of Burrard Street.

From that point, neither are Commission, the RCMP nor the army was responsible for them. The responsibility lay directly with Ottawa, it was pointed out. The riot was suppressed without the use of tear gas, although city police were asked to send a supply when Japanese quartered in the three-storey brick waterfront building renewed the disturbance during the evening.

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another-tmnt-writer · 4 years

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Matching Marks

Leonardo x Reader

Author: Admin Mo

Prompt: Hey your Soulmate stories are really great! So I wanted to ask you if you could write a soulmate AU with Leo maybe?

Note: I’ve been in a Leo mood for a little while here and I’ve always had a thing for soulmate aus, as you all know.

Warnings: A situation similar to a lockdown, but nothing graphic.

Word Count: 1.8k

Everyone on the planet had a mark in the spot where their soulmate would first touch them. It only made sense that Leo had the most common one: a black mark stretched over the entirety of his palm. This made him cautious to shake anyone’s hand or high-five anyone. Donnie had pointed out that if it really was from shaking someone’s hand, the mark definitely wouldn’t cover his whole palm, and also, the mark would probably wrap around to the top of his hand, but it didn’t.

This left Leo more confused than anything. He supposed he’d just have to wait until he met his soulmate to be able to tell. And yet, thoughts of his destined soulmate were more bittersweet than anything else. After all, he was a giant mutant turtle. That certainly didn’t make meeting people easy. Especially when he couldn’t go out in sunlight unless the world was ending.

“Do not trouble yourself with it, my child.” Splinter advised, sipping from his tea. “Fate will happen when it happens. Chasing after it only makes it run faster.”

“Yes, Master Splinter.” He nodded and got up from the floor. He and the guys were about due for a patrol.

***

Exam week was hell. You were curled up in the library, tucked away in a study room typing away a fifteen page essay that was due in your biology class. You reached for your iced chai, but when you picked it up, the tea was gone, leaving only ice in your cup. Great. According to the clock, it was approaching eleven, but during exam week, the library was open 24/7, which was good for you. You didn’t know what you’d do without it.

So, praising the studying gods that you’d saved up your dining dollars for the end of the year for this very reason, you locked your laptop and got up, leaving the safe haven that was your quiet study room and walking to the elevator. You rode down to the first floor and got in line at the tea shop tucked into the library, a lifesaver if there ever was one. You knew that you wouldn’t make it through the night without some more caffeine.

As you stood there, waiting, you absentmindedly rolled up the sleeves of your cozy knit sweater. This, of course, revealed the dark soulmark that cuffed your forearm.

Your soulmark was curious for a few reasons. The first, and most obvious reason, though, was that it didn’t look…human. Sure you’d heard stories where people had weird marks like yours, met their soulmate, and then everything made sense, but yours looked like it was some sort of hand-print. Kind of. That is, if hands had three massive fingers. Maybe the way your soulmate grabbed your arm would make the print look a little weird, but you weren’t sure.

You looked down at the mark, studying it for a few seconds before pulling your sleeve back down and stepping up to the register to order your tea.

Fate would have to wait, at least until exams were over anyway.

***

It was a pretty normal patrol. It was getting late, approaching midnight, and the guys were doing what they usually did, roaming the city until either A) they found some trouble to take care of or B) they got a call from Rebecca Vincent, telling the about a problem the police couldn’t get to fast enough.

Tonight, it looked like it would be option B.

Vincent had called the turtles because they were closer, and it was a good thing, too, because they’d gotten several calls from worried students inside the library that the Foot Clan was inside, rounding up hostages.

“They must be there looking for Stockman’s research. There’s no other explanation for them to break into that place in the middle of exam week.” Donnie reasoned as they raced across the rooftops.

“Unless they’re just there for scare tactics.” Raph suggested.

“Either way, we’ve gotta get inside and make sure all the students are safe.” Leo said. “Donnie, find where they’re gathering the students. Raph, work on taking out as many of the Foot as you can. Mikey, you and I are gonna sweep the upper floors and look for students. We need to get them to a secure location.”

“Aye-aye captain. I call the fourth floor.”

“I’ve got three.” Leo nodded. As soon as they got into the building, Leo raced up the stairs, not trusting the elevators when so much was on the line.

On his way, he took out a few of the Foot Clan, knocking them out cold and getting to the third floor without much trouble. The fluorescent lights were bright, and the common area, where all the computers and tables were was completely empty. Following his advanced senses, he walked back towards the bathrooms and gently pushed open the door to find a room full of cowering students.

“Hey, guys. Just, um, stay in here. We’ve got things under control, alright?”

A guy wearing a t-shirt with art of Leo and his brothers on it nodded, his face serious. There were a few people like that guy, people who knew about the turtles and trusted them. He knew that if things like this kept happening, there would be more people like that as news of them spread. He hoped that his presence could help these kids feel safe.

Continuing his sweep, he walked back towards the shelves, where there were several more students, a handful of girls, hiding by the books.

“I’ll take you guys to the bathrooms. That’s where everyone else is hiding. Follow me.”

And though they looked hesitant at first, once they realized that he was their best shot, they followed him to the bathrooms and hid with the rest of the students there.

“Leo, I think we’ve got everything under control down here. Donnie found the hostages.” Raph reported. “We’re taking care of the rest of the Foot right now so don’t—” He paused and Leo heard loud noises from downstairs. “Nevermind, there’s more. Finish up there and get down here as fast as you can. The reinforcements just arrived.”

Moving faster now, Leo walked towards the study rooms. All of them were empty except for one, in which there was a table overturned, a girl quivering behind it.

***

You looked up at the big green mutant with wide eyes, shaking. His gaze softened when he saw you, clear blue eyes searching you for damage.

“Are you okay, Miss?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright.” You nodded. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the Foot Clan. They want something. But we’re not going to let anything happen, alright? Do you want me to help you get to the bathroom?”

“No, I’m going to stay in here, I think.” You shook your head. “Could you…could you just come find me when it’s all over?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be back soon.” He winked and then closed the door, leaving you in the quiet of your study room with nothing but the butterflies fluttering around your stomach and the memory of his blue, blue eyes.

The next twenty minutes of your life might have been the longest. You’d sent a message to your parents to let them know you were safe and spent the remainder of the time sitting there, sipping on your chai and waiting for whatever friendly (handsome?) mutant to come find you. Every once in a while, you’d hear noises from the lower levels, clashing metal, shouts and screams, and then there was a patch of quiet. A long, unsettling one.

You waited, crouched behind the overturned table, shaking, peeking up at the door every few seconds until finally, it opened and it was the same mutant that had come in before, a gentle smile on his face.

“Coast is clear. We’re evacuating the building.”

“Okay, thank god. Thank you.” You went to stand up, but learned that the way you’d been sitting had caused your leg to fall asleep and you fell back down.

The mutant rushed over and grabbed onto your arm, helping you up and setting you on the table you hadn’t pushed over. Then, he worked to stand the overturned table upright again.

When he turned around to face you again, you were staring at your arm, your sleeve pulled up, exposing a glittering golden mark in the shape of…his hand print? He looked at his hand and his eyes widened as he stared at his palm, which was now glittering and gold instead of the inky black that had covered it his whole life.

Tears welled up in his blue eyes and he smiled, looking at you with the softest expression you’d ever seen in your life. Slowly, he reached out and touched his hand to the mark on your arm, lining them up again as you watched. He was gentle, careful, his touch tentative.

“Wow…” He whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. He reached up to wipe it away, but you beat him to it, your free hand rising to stroke his scaled green cheek and he melted at your touch. “It’s you.”

“You found me.” You whispered, tears welling up in your own eyes and your heart racing, warm with emotions. “I’m Y/N.”

“Leonardo.” He introduced. “I’m sorry…” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m probably not what you expected.”

You giggled, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. “Well, no, I can’t say you’re what I pictured, but…I do have a thing for superheroes, so…” You shrugged. “I think I made out pretty well, all things considered.”

“So you’ve heard of us?”

“I caught a glimpse of you that day when the aliens came. I guess I should have put two and two together, but…” You motioned to the gold mark on your arm and then to his massive three-fingered hand. “Anyway, this is fine. I…well, I think you’re perfect for me. And apparently, so does the universe.”

“I was honestly a little afraid this day would never come. But…now that I’ve found you, I promise to be the best soulmate you could have ever asked for.” Leo wrapped his arms around you, resting his head atop of yours.

You’d never felt so safe in your life, but you knew that as long as you had him, nothing bad would ever happen. You knew he’d protect you.

“We better get you out of here.” Leo said quietly, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s go.”

You stood up carefully and took his hand in yours, slinging your laptop bag over your other shoulder. He gave your hand a squeeze and looked down at you, smiling. Earlier that day he’d had no idea that the evening patrol would bring his destiny right to him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#leo #leonardo #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leo imagine #leonardo imagine #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt imagine

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narvaldetierra · 3 years

Text

Hide and seek

This is the Kidnapped prompt for the #BarsonBingoAugust2021 created by @simpforbarba

Warnings: Blood, psychological torture, some descriptions can be graphics. Let me know if I forgot anything. Words: 4181. Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

“What do you say if we go for some Chinese food and go to your apartment? We may find Noah still awake if we go now.” Said Rafael standing at Olivia's office door.

The lieutenant looked up and put down the papers she was reading, surprised because she hadn't heard him arrive. She gave him an exhausted smile and took off his glasses.

“That would be great but…”

“You have a case.”

“I have a case.”

“A case for which they are pressuring you a lot, according to what I heard” He approached the desk. He already knew these kinds of cases, they resonated that much in the newspapers, that became a political issue, so the high levels pushed the police to the limit.

“That's right, but every clue we have just led us to a dead-end road.— Olivia sighed and dropped the paper in her hand. All that she wanted was to leave the station, take a walk with Rafael and be there when Noah went to bed, so she could read his bedtime story, for the first time that week.

“Hey… I know you are in a difficult position, but it's no use that you stay here all night, without sleeping” Rafael sat in the chair across the desk “You need to take a step back and stop looking at all that evidence for a while. When you come back tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, you may see this and find something you didn’t see.”

“You may be right” she granted, still a little upset that she couldn't move further in the case.

A series of corpses had been found. Two each time, couples, according to what their family said. They had rope marks on their wrists, traces of sedatives, shoots in their chest and heads. All the women were raped. The Killer Match the press had called it. All the beginning, it seemed to follow a path with just heterosexual couples, but they suddenly found a sapphic couple and another one gay. They had found five couples, the last two had appeared after the investigation of the third, unlike the first two that were found thanks to the ongoing investigation. They were three weeks apart each time, and they were running out of time before they had a new couple on the coroner's table.

Olivia stood and took her stuff, purse, and coat. Rafael smiled back at her and stood as well, held out his hand towards her. As they left her office, he crossed an arm over her shoulders, and kissed her cheek, trying to improve her mood.

“When we arrive at the apartment, I will take care to spoil you.”

“With you being by my side is enough. Besides, I’m so tired that I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat dinner.”

---

They were sitting at a table, waiting for the takeaway food. A glass of wine in front of Olivia, and scotch in Rafael’s hand. It should have been 15 minutes and it had been already 20. After a long day, Olivia was a little impatient, her mind thought in that case, again and again, reviewing in her mind the evidence they had. After another five minutes, Rafael went to claim their food and she was left alone. Then she almost had an epiphany. She took the file from her purse, checked some papers, and then she made a search on her phone. She gasped as she realized.

“What happened?” Rafael asked when he came back, as he knew that look in her eyes “What did it happen when I wasn’t here”

“I… I found it” she replied still surprised by her own words “I know who he is, I know where he is. It was in front of us all this time, and we didn’t even notice!”

Rafael knew right away that they wouldn’t go home, after the last week, she wouldn’t let it be not even a minute more. They got into her car and Rafael put the food on the back seat. He would follow her till where ever she wanna go. He didn’t need to ask her anything.

She parked in front of a flower shop, behind the shop was the owner's house. Due to the time, all the shops in the area were already closed and the street looked almost deserted. Without her police radio, she took her phone and called for reinforcements. Olivia walked determinedly to the door of the flower shop, she took out his gun and his badge willing to be herself the one to arrest him. Upon closer inspection of the flower shop, she could see that the door was open, which gave her the green light to enter.

“Rafa, stay here”

“But Liv…”

“No, no but. The reinforcements are on the way, it is just a guy and you are not authorized to be the ADA in my case. You just wait here, and when the patrol arrives you send them inside.”

She didn’t let him make any reply and entered the flower shop. Identified herself as NYPD, just in case there was someone near enough to hear her, she couldn't let this case get lost on any kind of legal technicality. The shop lights were off, some street lights hardly leaked through the window. She advanced slowly with her gun in hand and alert. The first room cleared. It was when she went to the backroom when she felt a prick in her neck. It was too fast, just a little pressure and when she turned back, she fell to the ground just like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The gun, still in Olivia’s hand, shot up when it hit the ground. Rafael heard and he immediately went inside.

“Liv!” He exclaimed entering the back room.

She still had her eyes open and used all her will to try to move and warn him, but it was useless, she couldn’t even feel her arms or legs. Rafael ran to her across the door and before he could reach her, the perpetrator hit his head with a flower vase, knocking him out instantly. Barba fell beside Olivia, who looked at him terrified and then at the guy who was looking at them with a wide satisfied, and creepy smile on his face.

---

She woke up and everything was dark around her. She felt dizzy and sleepy. Her eyelids were heavy and she had a hard time staying focused. She could tell she was in a car. No. She was in the trunk of a car. She could feel the movement and the only thing she wanted was to hear the police siren following them near. She focused on what she could hear, but there was nothing outside but the normal sound of traffic. Little was the space she had to move and even less was allowed by the ropes that restricted her movements. Her mind threatened to bring back horrible memories of her tied up and gagged, in the trunk of Lewis' car moving with complete impunity. She tried her best not to think about it and tried to break free. It was then that she realized that she was not alone in the trunk.

Her heart stopped for a moment. Because her hands were tied up behind her, she had to lie on her side to be able to touch him. She looked for his pulse or any other vital sign, she begged for him to stay alive, and he was. Without being able to see him, she was guided by touch and when she felt the suspenders across his chest, she knew it was Rafael. It had to be him, she didn’t want to think of the alternative if it wasn’t him. She settled next to him, she wanted to feel his warmth and breath, somehow it made her feel better knowing that she wasn’t alone. She immediately felt guilty about it, since her relief was due to Rafael being kidnapped. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, and feeling Rafael by her side gave her the peace of mind that helped her repress the memories of those four days.

With the sedatives still in her system and prived of any external stimulus, she fell asleep again.

---

When Olivia opened her eyes again, she was alone. She was still tied up but in the middle of a forest. The sun was shining high, dazzling her eyes. She tried to stand, a difficult task with her hands tied behind her back, but after a few tries, she did it. There was no sign of Rafael nor even the guy that took them there. In front of her, leaning against a tree, there was a bag. She was sure that The Killer Match would be back soon, so she hurried to find something to release herself, so she could have a chance to do something.

She had a hard time trying to get something from the bag without looking, just feeling with her hands. Something pricked her left hand and as she could feel, she knew it was a Swiss knife. The blade didn’t seem very sharp but should be enough to cut the ropes.

While she was trying to free herself, a sound caught her attention. There was no one around, and it wasn’t a sound from the forest. She realized that it came from the bag, it seemed like a radio and when she looked inside the bag, she could see the antenna peeking out from under a compass and a canteen.

She finally released her hands and before anything else, she hurried to get to the canteen. She hoped it had some water, she felt thirsty and needed to drink anything. She wasn’t lucky at all, and the canteen was empty. She sighed with frustration and checked the bag. To the bottom of the backpack, she found a first aid kit pretty much empty as well. What she thought was a radio turned out to be the receiver of a baby monitor, just like she had used it when Noah was a baby. This one seemed to have been manipulated by hand.

“Hello… hi… testing… 1, 2, 3… Can you hear me?” A male voice came from the radio.

Olivia stood and took the bag, knowing that would be useful eventually. She looked around, looked for some path, looked for footsteps, and looked for something that helped her find a way to Rafael and understand what happened to him.

“If I'm not wrong, you both should be awake by now. I bet you already found the bag, but if you haven’t, now you do. No, it wasn’t left behind by a random hiker, is there for you to use it. We’re gonna play a game.”

“Both”, he said “both”, which meant that Rafael was somewhere in that forest too, probably confused and worried as she was.

“These are the rules: you both are on the opposite side of the forest, you both can hear me, but neither of you can communicate with each other. You can try to run away alone, or you can try to find each other. Either way, if I found you first, it’s game over. My dog has a good sense of smell, so I hope you can run fast.”

Word after word, Olivia began to understand all the victims went through and the kind of psycho this guy was. He was not just an amateur or a simple serial killer. He was calculating and careful, he had planned this very well.

“Lieutenant Benson… How is your head? It hurts, right? I’m sure you are thirsty too. Don’t worry, it’s just a side effect of the sedative I gave you. It will only get worse if you don't get some water.” She heard derisive laughter “If you follow the right path you will find a river that crosses the entire forest, you can load the canteen there. But… You will realize that this will reveal your location. It’s your choice. The game begins… Now!”

---

Rafael was on the opposite side of the forest. He had dried blood on one side of his head and his shirt collar. His wrists were red where the ropes had been. He also had his backpack and he was looking for a way to know where to go and find Olivia. It had always been easy for him to orient himself with the cardinal points, but he didn’t know in which part of the forest he was, so he didn’t know where to go. He thought he could climb a tree, but he dismissed the idea immediately, he hadn't done that since he was a kid. He wandered his gaze through the woods around him and chose a random direction, he had to trust that he was going in the right direction.

The forest was peaceful. Sunlight trickled through the leaves of trees, which were shaken by the slight autumn breeze. He heard birds singing from the treetops, so high that he was not able to see them. However, his vitals were racing, with the same adrenaline that he had only felt with the most important court cases, or even more. He walked in a hurry and wondered where the hell they were. He thought that the trees and birds around him should have been a way to know that, but little was all he knew about it.

“I can see you” heard from the radio after a few minutes with silence. Rafael's heart stopped for a moment. He couldn’t be sure who of the two was he talking to. From what he came to see, it wasn't him. “I can sense your horror.” He heard the dog barking in the background, coming from the radio, then he knew it wasn’t talking to him. “It’s already too late for you to try and run away”

Rafael felt despair grow inside him, he lost the composure he had tried to preserve and ran through the forest. He prayed he was heading in the right direction, he prayed he could reach in time and he prayed that Olivia could run faster from that guy or his dog. His lungs burned and his vision became somewhat blurry, but he kept running until he heard the gunshot. The sound echoed both over the radio and in the forest. He stood in shock without knowing what to do. His full attention was on the radio and the sounds that came from it.

“Run while you still can, your time is running out” heard the guy said, only then he could breathe again. Olivia was still alive. And because of the gunshot, he knew where he had to go. That way he ran again, willing to get to Olivia before the psychopath did.

---

Meanwhile, Olivia was running desperate, tears in her eyes. Her head was killing her, but she didn’t care anymore. She had heard everything on the radio and needed to make sure Rafael was okay. From what she had heard, he had managed to escape from the Killer Match, she just hoped he'd dodged the shot. She already knew where she had to go. She knew she was more likely to meet The Killer, but she didn't care, she just wanted to reach Rafael in time.

“Do you think your partner is still here? I think we are already alone” said the guy. “Don’t be sad, you are not the only one. It was the same with the first two couples. You think you found the love of your life, but when the time comes, they just look for themselves.”

“Don't listen to him Rafa” Olivia thought. She was doing her best to keep running. Self-defense classes kept her fit, but being inside the gym in a controlled environment was not the same as being in the middle of a forest. “I’m still here. I won't leave you. Don’t give up now, I’m coming for you.”

“This started as an experiment, you know? It turned out to be a lot more entertaining than I thought. I saw the cops go and come with the bodies I left behind. They never thought I was suspect, until now. Did you know you didn’t find them all? There are still two more couples out there. I don't think you ever will. Neither of you will return alive.”

“Not on my watch,” she thought.

She didn't notice it until she heard the click. It was that fast that she couldn’t do anything about it. Ropes moved through the trees and raised an extensive net, hidden on the ground. Before she could tell, she was hanging ten feet off the ground, trapped in the net.

“No, no, no…” Overcome by panic, her heart stopped for a moment, she clung to the net and struggled with it.

“Oh, oh… Someone fell into a trap” heard the voice from the radio and with a chilling whisper he added, “I know where you are…”

Olivia's breathing was racing, her mind was fuzzy, she was desperate to get rid of as soon as possible so she could run away. She just wanted to find Rafael and get the hell away from the forest. She wanted to see her son again, hug him, and never think about The Killer Match again. It took a lot of effort on her part to be able to focus, when she did, she recalled the Swiss knife. She took it from her pocket, her hands shaking so much that she feared it fell. She squeezed her hand tight to avoid accidents. She sought to cut a hole large enough in the side of the net, to be able to pass through. Her plan was to hang from the net before jumping, to reduce the distance to the ground.

“You can’t hide from me. Just wait for it, I’m almost there.”

With great speed, the razor's edge passed over the rope of the net. She could felt how she was running out of time. She was sweating cold and her heart was beating as fast as a mouse.

“I prefer young couples for this game, but I had to admit that you are being entertained enough. I’ll enjoy killing you two.”

With two ropes off, Olivia was able to sneak out. She hung for a moment from the net and then she fell to the ground. Although she tried to calculate her fall, her hands did not hold out for long. A scream escaped her mouth due to the impact against the ground, she could felt her right ankle hurt. However, she had no time to lose, she needed to run as fast as she could go.

She stood up, laying his weight on the tree next to her, and then she ran.

---

Rafael fell on his knees. His lungs did not allow him to continue running. He was short of breath and already felt dizzy. He could feel like his heart wanted to jump out of his chest, his throat was dry and burning. He puts his hands on the ground trying to calm himself. He could feel the throbbing in his legs. He cleared his throat and used all his willpower to get back on his feet. Olivia needed him and that psycho was near to her. He stood for a minute and then ran again.

“I’m getting closer. I can hear your footsteps thumping loudly through the forest.”

“No! Liv, run… please, just run,” Rafael thought. He didn't care if she ran away and left him there, he didn’t care to die in the forest, as long as she was safe. The sound of a breaking branch interrupted his thoughts. He hid behind a tree and took the Swiss knife, with the blade ready for anything. It wasn’t much, but it was better than fight just with his fists. He heard footsteps advancing trying not to make noise. He wondered if it could be Olivia, but then he heard the dog and he knew it was The Killer Match.

“You are not very good at hiding, I can see you…”

He heard the gun charge behind him. He closed his eyes and let the air out of his lungs. He stood and turned around slowly. Just like he already knew, the killer was in front of him, just a few steps away. He raised his hands in the air and their gazes met. The killer smiled sadistically and licked his lips, just like a beast ready to devour its prey. He took the radio and brought it to his mouth.

“You can say goodbye to your man Lieutenant. It’s game over for him.”

Then he just shot. The Killer liked to play with his victims, so he wouldn't let the fun be over so soon. He made sure to hurt him, without killing him immediately. The bullet got to the low abdomen, on his right side. Rafael fell to the ground moaning in pain and dropped the knife. Blood gushed from the wound in great quantity and his first reflex was to pressure the wound. The Killer approached and pointed his gun at Rafael's head.

“I hope you know Lieutenant, that you just confirmed my theories. In the end, you just chose to save yourself.” He hooked the radio back on his belt, crouched next to Rafael, and put the gun to his temple. He took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and handcuffed Rafael. Although he had the gun pointing to his head, offered some resistance, something the Killer enjoyed. He picked up the knife with a wide, terrifying smile on his face. “Perhaps I can still have some fun” He rested the knife on Rafael's cheek “Stay still, do not try anything” made a quick cut, moved the knife against his chest, and made a new cut, this time even deeper, which needed more pressure and strength. Rafael bit back a cry. “What else can I cut? A finger? A toe? Which would make you scream more? I want to hear you” He positioned the knife against the pinky, knowing that it would take a while to cut the skin, muscle, and tendons to separate the bone.

Out of nowhere, Olivia appeared. She pounced on the killer, took him away from Rafael, and knocked him to the ground. In the process she got him to drop the gun. “I was waiting for you to show up,” he yelled in amusement and fought against her. With his free hand, he wanted to strike a blow against her head, which she blocked with a hand. Automatically he thrust the knife into her other hand. Olivia screamed. Adrenaline ran through her body just like when she beat the hell out of William Lewis after four days of torture, so she dealt repeated blows against the face of the Killer, who only laughed.

He kicked her to get her off him, then he stood up and spit out some blood. Then he pounced over her. Due to her bad ankle, she lost stability and fell to the ground. Aided by gravity, he imprisoned her under his body. His hands moved up and down all over her body and Olivia struggled to take him off. He opened her shirt, ripping out the buttons before a new gunshot was heard.

Rafael had done his best to get to the gun he held in his bloody hands. There were just a few times that he had shot in his life, he didn’t feel comfortable holding a gun and it took him a long time to decide to shoot because he did not trust his aim. But the shot was clean. The Killer fell over Olivia, gushing blood from the shot on his head. Both Olivia and Rafael froze for a moment, their breaths were heavy and after a moment they could react. Rafael dropped the gun, Olivia pushed the corpse and ran to Rafael.

“Rafa!” she exclaimed, becoming aware of her aching body again. She knelt on the ground and put a hand on his wound. “Rafa… you’re gonna be fine, don't worry.”

“Liv, are you ok?” he asked, worried about her and the first gunshot he had heard from the radio. He hadn’t realized yet that it had been a mind game the Killer made for them, like a bait, to guide them towards him.

“Yes, yes… I am” she wasn’t aware of the tears that were falling down her face. “I… I’ll get some help.” Then she looked for a phone in the corpse pockets. She dialed 911 returning to Rafael's side and pressed on his wound. “I am Lieutenant Benson, from svu, I need a bus.” She gave the details to the operator and explained that she didn’t know where they were. They tracked her phone and soon enough the help was on its way. A few minutes later Olivia leaned over Rafael and kissed him, relieved to hear the sirens approaching. They were going to be fine.

#barsonbingoaugust2021 #barson #olivia benson #rafael barba #svu #law and order: svu #fanfic #my gifs

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taking-over-his-life · 3 years

Text

The old shop

Written by my old friend Colt.

On a bright autumn day, when the low angle of the sun, the sudden warmth of Indian summer, and the riot of scarlet and yellow leaves all cast a spell over the Virginia countryside, I set off for a drive, with the car windows rolled down. Intense glare alternated with deep shadow, as the road wound through fields and woods. It led to a town called Hapsburg, where it became Main Street, nearly deserted on Saturday afternoon. I parked along the sidewalk, and got out to stretch my legs.

The buildings were of red brick or painted clapboard, one or two stories. Shop windows were empty, or contained faded posters, long out of date. I walked past a café, a drugstore, a lawyer's office, and a barbershop, all closed. Next came a shop that sold old furniture, chipped plates, sentimental pictures, obsolete farm tools—the debris of former households, past lives.

In the display window, draped over the back of a chair, as though the wearer left it there minutes ago, and would soon reclaim it, was a black leather jacket. Creased and scuffed, it had evidently seen hard use. So casually was it thrown on the wooden chair—was it also for sale? I tried the latch, and the ancient shop door opened. A bell jingled sharply overhead, as I stepped inside.

A pale, thin man seated behind a counter barely looked up from his newspaper. His eyes were watery blue or gray, and his hair was sparse, showing the scalp. I pretended to look at a dusty shelf of books, then wandered to the back of the shop, which seemed to have nothing of value. At last, I returned to the front. Except for the man at the counter, there was no one else.

The black leather jacket was compelling. I touched a sleeve—the leather was thick and heavy. I searched for a tag, a price, a label, but found nothing. On the shoulder, a red patch bore the legend: "Hapsburg Motor Patrol." "Go ahead," the man said. His voice was unexpectedly clear and strong, despite his age. "Try it on. You'll be the first, since it just came in. Who knows, this may be your lucky day."

I slipped my arms into the sleeves, shrugged the weight of the leather over my back, and tried the zipper, which worked smoothly.

"A perfect fit," the man said, "like it was custom-made for you. There's a mirror, if you don't believe me."

It was uncanny, but the old leather jacket did fit perfectly. Stiff yet pliable, it was already molded to my shape, broken in by the previous owner.

"Whoever wore it must have had exactly the same upper body size," the man said.

"So you don't know who owned it?" I asked. "Anything about him?"

"Not a clue."

"What about the patches? Will I be arrested for impersonating a police officer?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. The town police department disbanded years ago, when the county took over everything—schools, taxes, roads, jail. The county police wear a different uniform, not that red patch. As it stands now, that jacket is a collector's item, a genuine Hapsburg Motor Patrol issue. Quality leather—they don't make them like that any more. The badge is missing, of course. It went in that reinforced hole in the chest."

The leather creaked, as I flexed my arms and walked to and fro. I inhabited the jacket, inhaled the smell of leather, and felt slightly giddy.

"There's plenty of wear left in that jacket. It will keep you warm on the road, and protect you in case of a spill. When you're riding, that is. Yes, sir, it fits you like a glove."

"How much do you want for it?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"That depends on how much you want it," he answered, suddenly shrewd. His pale eyes glittered in the shadowy interior.

Though I detest haggling, I was unable to take off the jacket. I named a price, a round number, which I hoped was low. To my surprise, the man instantly agreed.

"Sold!" he shouted, as though at an auction.

I reached for my wallet, anxious to complete the transaction before he changed his mind, or before I did.

"Like I said, that leather jacket was meant for you. What are the odds that someone would walk in here, exactly the right build, with an eye for police memorabilia?"

"So you don't know where it came from?"

"Sorry, my friend. It could have been someone cleaning out an attic, getting a house ready for sale, winding up an estate. Wait! Now that you mention it, some other things came in with the jacket. Here's a helmet, the standard police type."

He handed me a white helmet, and I lowered it over my head. Snug, but comfortable. I started to ask the price, but he cut in.

"At no additional cost—special today. And check out these beauties." He rummaged behind the counter, and produced a pair of black leather riding boots.

"Somewhat the worse for wear, but you can replace the heels, and shine them up like new. Here, try them on."

Hurriedly, I untied my shoes, and shoved my feet into the tall boots, folding my pants inside the cylindrical shaft. Amazingly, the boots fit. I wiggled my toes, rocked from side to side, and strode a few paces. Like the jacket, the boots felt eerily right, as though I had worn them for years. Looking in the mirror, I caught my breath.

Instead of the man who entered the shop, an ordinary citizen like millions of others, I saw a police officer, a motorcycle cop, a figure of speed and power, a member of an elite squad, albeit from decades before. The fantasy was exhilarating.

"Do you want a bag?"

Abruptly, I remembered where I was, in a dusty junk shop, in a forgotten country town. I took off the helmet.

"No bag, thanks. I'll wear it."

"What about your shoes?"

"Oh. . . yes."

I handed the man my shoes, which he dropped into a crumpled paper bag. He handed the bag back to me, with a wink of his gray eye.

Jacketed and booted, as though dressed for a costume ball, I exited the shop, and blinked in the dazzling sunlight. The air was growing cooler, and the sun would soon set. With the helmet under one leather sleeve, and clutching the paper bag, I strode to my car for the drive home, through the inflamed countryside.

In the following weeks, as the weather turned cold and windy, I sometimes wore the leather jacket. As promised, the thick, back skin kept me warm. It did not attract attention, other than a smile or nod of approval. The thrill I felt on first putting it on mellowed, and in a way, I grew into the jacket.

One day, it occurred to me to search the pockets. An inner zipper revealed a small black and white photograph of a man standing beside a motorcycle. He appeared to wear the same jacket and boots, with the same white helmet on his head. He also wore a police badge, a silver star on his chest. His posture was upright and confident. The photograph bore no identification, no name or date. It was impossible to tell the man's age, or where the photograph was taken. Still, I was convinced that this was the officer who owned the items I had bought.

His uniform included a pair of riding breeches, tailored snug at the calf and flared at the thigh, almost as though inflated. It was a picturesque style, something that went out of fashion long ago. I could not recall ever seeing such a uniform on the street. In color, the riding breeches were dark, with areas of sheen. Were they made of black leather, too? I placed the photograph in a dresser drawer.

Though out of sight, the image haunted me. Who was this man, in purely physical aspects so much like me? What were his tastes, his habits, his personality? What was the police officer's story?

With no conscious intention, I began to read classified ads for used motorcycles, and I looked more closely at those I passed in the street. I wondered what type of motorcycle my officer rode. What type would a small-town police department be likely to have? When a neighbor parked a motorcycle in his front yard, a machine much like the one in the photograph, with a "For Sale" sign attached to the seat, I did not hesitate.

The neighbor, an engineer who would soon move to another city to start a new job, taught me how to ride the motorcycle, and he gave me advice on maintenance and repair. My luck continued in the form of a mild winter, which allowed me to ride on weekends, gradually learning how to handle the motorcycle on narrow roads, and in traffic. Though not especially powerful, it was quick and responsive. I wore my leather jacket, boots and helmet, of course, and sturdy jeans. By spring, I had become a confident, if careful, motorcyclist.

One Saturday, as the trees were coming into leaf, and the air was newly fragrant, I set off to ride through the green landscape. I started with no destination, but the road became familiar, as it wound through fields and woods. Just as it did six months before, it led to Hapsburg. Slowly, I cruised Main Street, looking for the old shop where I had bought the leather jacket, the same one I was wearing. Not seeing it, I turned around, and rolled in the opposite direction, but still failed to find the dusty display window. I parked, pulled off my helmet, and stood in the middle of the street, baffled.

A place I did not remember, a combination art gallery and custom frame shop, hinted at economic revival. Clean, freshly painted, with a gleaming steel and glass door, it was open for business. I entered, and at once was greeted by a young man with black hair, dark brown eyes, and an eager smile. After browsing the drawings and paintings, all by local artists, I explained what I was looking for.

The young man grew solemn, and said he would be right back. He walked briskly to a storage room in back, and returned with a large envelope, which he handed to me. Scrawled on the envelope, as a kind of address, was the phrase:

"For the man in the leather jacket, when he returns."

I studied the envelope for a moment, then asked:

"How can you be sure that this is for me?"

"The junk shop you describe was here, this space. I cleaned it out, renovated, put in new lights, and so on. A lot of work, you can imagine. The previous tenant passed away, I was told, and he left the shop as you saw it. I never met him—a retired police officer. Nothing of the contents was worth saving, but I did save one thing. That envelope was lying on the counter."

I lifted the flap, and extracted something heavy and pliable, made of black leather.

"Looks like a pair of pants," said the young man, clearly interested.

"Yes," I said, "or riding breeches. I saw them in a photograph."

"Awesome! They match your jacket and boots. Want to try them on?"

"I don't need to. They're exactly my size. Don't ask how I know."

"Okay, I won't. Strange things happen, even in Hapsburg. But here's the really strange part. They told me that the old man passed away more than a year ago. So how could you have met him here last fall?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and the leather jacket creaked. I slid the breeches back in the envelope, and tucked it under my thick black sleeve.

"Thanks," I said, turning to leave. "And good luck with the shop."

#leather boots #uniform #leather gear #leather jacket

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imaginetonyandbucky · 3 years

Text

Keeping Me Alive

Chapter 11: Heathens

by @dracusfyre

They made it to the long-term cruise liner parking lot where Tony had staged an SUV for their escape when James stopped and said, “Tracking devices.”

“Shit.” Of course Hydra would have some way of tracking him; he was an expensive tool, after all, not a person. Tony had Jarvis scan him and found two transmitters, one in the metal arm and one in the back of his neck close to the spine. “I can jam them both until we are in a safe place to remove them,” Tony said, “but I can’t get the one out of the arm without tools. And the one in your neck…” Tony trailed off when James pulled a knife out of the sheath on his thigh and held it out.

“Get rid of it.”

Tony wanted to protest but he bit his tongue when he saw the look on James’ face. He would want it out of him as soon as possible as well; he was lucky that Stane hadn’t thought to put one in him too. He climbed laboriously out of his suit and took the knife as James turned around and bent his head. Guess I get to stick a knife in the Winter Soldier after all, Tony thought with a grim smile. Years of working on circuit boards had given him a steady hand, so even though he grimaced as blood welled to the surface when he sliced through James’ skin, he was quick and efficient. “What should we do with it?” Tony asked when it was on his palm, tiny and shaped like a pill capsule. James took it from him and crushed it with his metal hand, letting it fall to the ground before grinding them into the pavement with his boot.

James helped him pack the suit in the back of the SUV and then they both went for the driver’s seat. “I have the key,” Tony said, pulling it out of his pocket and closing his hand around it when he saw James eyeing it. “Also, you don’t know where we’re going.”

“If Hydra comes, I should be driving,” James said with a scowl.

“If Hydra comes, you should be shooting,” Tony countered, and James considered that for a second before going around to the passenger seat. He’d already stashed one of the duffle bags of arms and ammunition that they’d taken from the lab in the floorboard, and as Tony pulled out of the parking lot he began methodically loading all of the rifles and spare magazines. It was a funny thing to find relaxing, but it made him feel safer to think that all of the Soldier’s lethality was on his side for once.

By the time they got onto the 5, the car had fallen into a strained silence, so Tony turned on the radio. The news of his demise had made headlines about an hour into their drive, though the police being interviewed were very careful not to officially declare Tony dead. The radio was the only sound in the car until they were four hours north of LA, when James finally spoke again. “Why?” He asked, his voice low and gruff and barely audible over the radio, even though Tony had the volume low.

Tony, who had been waiting for the question since he first took his helmet off in the lab, glanced over to see James studying him. “Do you recognize me at all?” After a moment of hesitation, James shook his head and Tony turned his eyes back to the road. “You and I have a long history,” Tony said finally. “None of it good. I don’t blame you for it,” Tony added hurriedly when he saw James stiffen. “I mean, I did, but I don’t now, because...Well, the point is, I realized recently that we are – were – both prisoners of Hydra. So I figure that means we have a common enemy, and that we should work together."

"You want me to help you take down Hydra?"

"Well, yeah." Tony glanced back over; James' expression didn't say what he thought of that. "Unless you don't want to, I guess. But we should still stick together until it's safe. I don't know about you, but I'm not going back."

James snorted at that. “So where’re we going?”

“Safe house.” There was silence in the car again as Tony pulled off the next exit to get gas. After he started the pump, he climbed back into the car and opened the center console. It was filled with protein bars, candy, chips, and drinks. “Pick your poison,” Tony said as he grabbed a bottle of water and a candy bar. James eyed Tony and then the stash of snacks before picking out a protein bar and bottle of Gatorade.

“What’s this?” He asked as he eyed the unnaturally blue drink.

“Sugar water, mostly.” Tony chugged his water as James took an experimental sip. “Your file says after you, uh, wake up you need a lot of protein and electrolytes and stuff. So drink up, it’s good for you.”

James grimaced at the taste but drank it steadily like a person that is used to taking medicine. When he was done he started making his way through the stack of protein bars with a grim determination that was almost impressive, if Tony hadn’t started to worry that he should have packed more food for the drive. They weren’t even a quarter of the way to their destination and James had eaten more than half the food. Finally the pump turned off with a thunk, so Tony finished paying and climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“If you've read my file,” James said as they got back onto the highway, “then you know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

“That’s not a high bar,” Tony said with a ghost of a smile. “I know more about you than you know about yourself.” James shot him an unamused look and Tony shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“You said your name was Tony Stark,” James said. He pointed to the radio. “If that’s true, why do the police think you’re dead?”

Tony’s eyebrows climbed. He didn’t realize James had been paying attention to the radio; he’d spent the entire drive so far staring out the window and checking the rearview mirror, presumably looking for Hydra. “Because I want them to think I’m dead,” Tony said. “That way I can be free to do what needs to be done.”

“What did Hydra want you for?”

“I make weapons. Made,” Tony corrected. “Their little pet engineer, cranking out planes and tanks and bombs for them,” he added bitterly, gesturing to the weapons in the bag at James’ feet. “I have also been fixing your arm for the past few years.”

That made James’ eyebrows draw together. “Music,” he said after a long moment. “I remember loud music.”

“Yeah, that was me. You remember that?”

“Hydra doesn’t exactly play me tunes on a regular basis,” James said dryly. “It stood out.”

Tony barked out a surprised laugh and turned the radio away from the news to classic rock. They switched vehicles a few hours later, then again at the border with Oregon. When they finally pulled in to Tony's cabin - one left to him by Ana and Edwin, and significantly renovated over the past month - Tony turned off the car and sagged against the seat. It wasn't until he felt his shoulders and jaw relaxed that he'd realized how tense he'd been the whole drive; he was suddenly acutely aware that he had been awake for almost 24 hours. "Home sweet home," he said unnecessarily as the engine ticked and cooled.

"I'll be the judge of that," James said. He climbed out of the car then proceeded to fit an unlikely number of firearms on his person before he disappeared into the woods. Tony shrugged and started to lug the suit piece by piece into the house, and when he took a moment to fire up the surveillance system he could see James evaluating the perimeter, pausing each time he noticed one of Tony's cameras. "I may not be an expert, but I am paranoid," Tony said to the monitors, then went back to the SUV for another load. By the time he had the suit in the gantry and ready for the next time he needed to put it on, James had finished his patrol and was standing in the middle of the living room. "Does my security meet your standards?" Tony asked as he headed for the freezer. For now, the cabin was stocked with shelf-stable food and the freezer was packed with instant meals, enough that they could avoid leaving for a few weeks as long as they didn't want things like milk or eggs or fresh fruit and vegetables.

"I have some suggestions," James said, following Tony into the kitchen. "Mostly involving explosives."

"Then you must not have checked around the foundation," Tony said. He picked out a frozen pizza and, checking the instructions, turned on the oven. He turned around to see James still standing there, looking uncertain, and he cursed internally. He wasn't used to having someone else in his space; it was going to take a while for him to get used to having a roommate. "Come on, I'll show you around."

James' room was in the top of the house, in a renovated attic space. Tony had picked it because the windows gave it excellent views on all sides of the house, and since James' files said he was a sniper he thought James would appreciate it. But as they stood there, Tony realized he had underestimated how tall James was, because if he stood anywhere other than the middle of the room he would have to duck. He'd also have to sleep diagonally on the queen size bed, but from the way James had gone all still and quiet when he'd looked at the room, Tony thought it might be good enough. There was one bathroom and it was on the ground floor, next to another bedroom. That was supposed to have been Tony's, but when he'd tried to sleep there he had woken up multiple times with panic attacks, feeling exposed and vulnerable, so his room was now in the basement. The basement had started life as a cellar but Tony had expanded it and reinforced it until it could probably now be classified as a bunker instead. "And this is HQ," Tony said as the lights came on to the main room. He'd moved everything important out of the LA home before he'd sent it into the Pacific, including his computers, JARVIS's servers, and all of the tools and machinery he would need to design and build new suits. What drew James' attention, though, was the murder board that took up one wall of the room. It was pretty sparse at the moment because Tony had only just started to dig through the Hydra files he'd downloaded, but there was Stane, Pierce, and Stern, as well as some of their more prominent hangers-on.

There were also the people that Tony had seen last time he was in the lab with Stane. Tony picked up a marker and put an X on all the faces he remembered. James pointed to one that he'd missed and then Tony hesitated, fidgeting with the marker before he finally said, “I was there the last time they…” Tony blew out a breath, unable to finish his sentence. "With the.."

“The chair,” James finished for him.

“Yeah. And I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Why? You weren’t one of…” James made an aborted gesture towards his head. “I knew them. I didn’t remember them, but…I knew them.”

“Because I didn’t stop it earlier. I mean, I didn’t know about it, but it was because I didn’t want to know. I was scared and…” Tony swallowed thickly and forced himself to keep going. “Weak. I let Hydra break me down for so long and they didn’t even need the chair to do it.”

“How long?”

“Over twenty years. Since I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Christ, you were a child,” James said with disgust. “Where were your parents?”

“Um…” Tony glanced over at him and grimaced. “They died. When I was eighteen.”

“Died?” James caught the look on his face and cursed long and low under his breath. “It was me, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Tony fidgeted with the marker in his hand. “I told them what was happening, and Hydra had them killed.”

“Ah, fuck. When you said we had a bad history you weren’t fucking kidding.” James ran a hand over his mouth and crossed his arms. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your idea,” Tony started, and then got cut off when James snorted. “What?”

“Look at us idiots, apologizing for shit that was Hydra’s fault,” he said. “I’m sorry Hydra made me pull the trigger on your parents. You’re sorry Hydra tortured and brainwashed me. I hope you got me out because you have a plan to make Hydra sorry I killed your parents and they brainwashed me,” he said, pointing to the murder board.

Tony met his eyes and felt a smile tug on his lips. He pulled out the picture of Ana, Edwin, and Maria from Christmas out of his pocket and propped it up on his desk. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

#Tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron

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fandom-necromancer · 3 years

Link

Part 2 has been prompted by the wonderful DetReed900 on AO3! I hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Cyberpunk AU

‘Quick, get in!‘ Gavin leaned on the passenger seat to hold the door open, as he watched Nines run towards him at full speed. The android jumped in, smashing the door close and Gavin drove off with screeching tires, while their pursuers desperately tried to get a good shot at them before they could disappear. But Gavin drifted around the next corner, accelerating again and taking several tight turns to lose anyone who might follow them. All the while Nines sat next to him laughing and cheering. Gavin looked into the rear-view mirror and relaxed a little as he couldn’t see anyone following them. He smirked, unable to be angry with the android although he likely should have been. As soon as they had made it on the highway, Gavin slowed down and weaved the car in between regular traffic.

‘How many times do I have to save you?’, he finally spoke a bit more serious. ‘Oh, come on’, Nines purred, leaning over. ‘You are just too good at that, it would be a shame letting that talent go to waste.’ Gavin turned his face towards Nines for a split second and smiled, pushing just a little on the gas. ‘You better start getting a talent for staying out of trouble, my friend.’ Nines laid his hand on his chest and looked accusingly at Gavin. ‘Do you see any bullet wound? I stayed out of trouble.’ ‘Yeah, and that gang will just forget about you doing… What even were you doing, Nines?’ ‘It’s a secret’, the android winked at him and leaned back in his seat. ‘Despite I really don’t think they would dare retaliate against us.’ ‘And why should that be?’ ‘Gavin, we could buy their whole organisation. I doubt they would dare attacking us openly.’ Gavin huffed. ‘Didn’t look that way when they were running after you.’

‘Hey, I’m fine, okay?’, Nines tried to change topics. ‘And I got what I needed from them.’ ‘Alright, Taxi Gavin reporting for duty, where can I bring you?’ ‘Stop with the sass, you get your fair share for this too. Just drive on, I have to hide it for the client in the city. I will give you directions.’ Gavin just sighed and turned up the radio.

‘What even is it with all that random side jobs you’re doing?’, Gavin asked standing next to the car while Nines hid a small package in the remains of some homeless person’s deserted shelter under a bridge. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to get rid of me.’ Nines stood up and stretched, smiling at the human. ‘Quite the opposite. I’m making sure we will do this together for a long time coming.’ ‘Alright’, Gavin chuckled, opening the door to the car. ‘And when will I be part of all the fun again?’ ‘Take a break’, Nines told him as he joined him inside. ‘For once in your life enjoy it. I will tell you soon enough.’ ‘It’s not because of Cyberlife, is it?’ ‘No. Elijah keeps his promise. For now, at least. And if he chooses to change that, I still have the backup of RA9 I can manipulate him with. We’re safe.’ ‘Good to hear. Can we go home then?’ ‘Yes. I’m done for today.’

They drove through the city, various neon signs glowing down on them and advertising the latest product you had to get immediately. Not too long ago, Gavin had lived in an old dilapidated house at the edge of the city. Once the dream of families with jobs in the city, the suburbs had now fallen into poverty and were taken over by criminal activity as the police didn’t care to patrol there anymore. Not when all the important people with money and influence were living in fancy apartments in the highest floors and everyone that still dreamed of getting there was packed like sardines in the mega-buildings. Now they were driving into their very own parking spot in a garage that had tighter CCTV as any street out there. With only a short walk to the elevator, they were arriving at their flat in a matter of minutes.

Gavin exhaled with the satisfying clicking of the lock and the low hum of their security systems. The largest part of their Cyberlife money had been invested into this flat and the security measures and Gavin was thankful for it as it would at least get them more time should the corporation – or any other fraction for that part – decide to attack them. Nines walked up to the large glass front of their living room – reinforced to withhold everything up to a rocket launcher – and took off his white jacket he had exchanged his Cyberlife uniform with. Gavin watched how he pulled on the fabric of the tight turtleneck underneath and swallowed as he saw Nines’ smirk. Phcking all-seeing bastard…

He walked up to the kitchen and heated up the leftovers from yesterday’s meal, joining Nines on the sofa while eating. ‘Alright, I will go take a quick shower and go to bed. How about you?’ ‘I’ll skip straight to the bed part and warm it up for you’, the android muttered and took Gavin’s hand to pull him in for a kiss on his temple. ‘Don’t let me wait too long.’

As Gavin slid under the sheets, Nines had indeed warmed up the space comfortably. With his heated skin from the long shower, the softness was like heaven. The android’s hands in his hair gently massaging his scalp an added bonus. The man relaxed completely, closing his eyes as Nines dimmed the lights and switched them off completely. And with how tired he was and how good just lying there like that felt, he decided he would think about everything that happened tomorrow, if at all.

Gavin was woken up by the sun shining through the clouds directly into his face. Groaning, he slapped an arm over his face and turned, only to see that the other side of the bed was empty. He frowned. ‘Nines?’, he called into the flat, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. As he didn’t get an answer, he shrugged and stood up piking up some lose-fit pants from the floor to wear. He yawned heartily as he walked up to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. His fingers hadn’t yet hit the button as his eyes finally noticed the post it note stuck to it.

Good morning, darling. I’m off for the day, but it shouldn’t take long. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of trouble for today. -9

Gavin took the little piece of paper and leaned against the counter, reading it again. He sighed, flinging it behind his back and getting back to his coffee. It was okay, it could happen, he told himself. Nines could do whatever he wanted. That was fine. He let himself fall onto the couch, sipping his coffee and cursing at himself for being so impatient as it was still far too hot. Maybe he had gotten a call by Fowler or any other Fixer in the city. Maybe he was preparing for a job. Maybe he was just out to buy some more equipment, who knew?

He shouldn’t worry. But he did. He had been betrayed a fair share in his life already and he had always been prepared should his recent partner do the same. But Nines was different. He wouldn’t do that, right? He couldn’t imagine the android doing that. And there was no reason for him to do so. They were a good team, made for each other since their very first mission together. There was no reason for Nines to leave him behind, right? ‘Phck’, Gavin cursed. If Nines did do that, it would destroy him. He knew it.

He sat there almost the entire day, watching the news, reading up the truth behind the media’s lies and checking in with the gang territories and job offers. After that it was cooking for himself, going for a short drive and after that: waiting. Until the android came back home. Because he needed to know. He would confront him today.

He perked up when the door unlocked with a familiar click and the android entered the room. ‘Gavin, I’m-‘ He stopped as he saw the man sitting in front of him, eyes fixed sternly on himself. ‘I’m home’, he finished in a more appropriate volume and shut the door. ‘Welcome back’, Gavin said. ‘We need to talk.’ Nines grimaced at that but nodded. ‘Okay. Just a moment.’ He hung up his jacket on the next chair and joined Gavin on the couch. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘I need to know what is going on’, Gavin decided to get right to business. ‘I need to know what you are doing and why you keep disappearing like this without any information. Sorry.’ Nines let his head rest in his hands for a moment, then lifted it out with a sigh, looking over to Gavin. ‘I know how this might look like, Gavin, but I can only tell you it isn’t what you think’, he began. ‘Hell, that makes it sound even worse now. I can’t tell you what I’m doing.’ ‘Alright.’ Gavin was short of standing up and leaving, but Nines grabbed his arm and gently pleaded him to stay with him. ‘Listen, I can’t tell you yet. I’m asking for two more days of your patience. Friday evening I will show you what I’ve been working on the past weeks, okay? It will all make sense then, don’t worry. I’m not leaving you behind or plan on betraying you. But I can’t tell you what it is, yet.’ ‘So a surprise, huh?’, Gavin asked not at all satisfied with the answer. ‘Yes’, Nines grinned and his smile reassured Gavin a little. ‘Yes, you could call it that.’

Friday evening was coming faster than thought, even if Gavin spent most of the time alone in their flat or out drinking in a bar. But that evening, Nines had told him to wear something comfortable and snatched the keys to his car from him as they left the flat. Now, Gavin was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car feeling weirdly out of place. ‘So where are we driving?’, he asked finally. Nines smiled at him and just asked in return: ‘I thought you knew these streets?’ ‘Yeah, I know we’re driving out of the city. I don’t know where you plan on bringing me though.’ ‘You’ll see. You just have to wait a little longer.’

Gavin spat some expletives his way in his mind and sighed, obviously uncomfortable. They had long left the city behind them and it dawned on Gavin where they were going. As Nines turned on the dusty road that would lead them to a very familiar hill, Gavin frowned. ‘The shed? What are you planning?’ Nines just chuckled and parked the car behind the bushes like Gavin had done before. ‘Do you know it has been a year now?’, the android asked him and stepped out of the car.

‘Exactly a year?’ ‘Yes.’ Nines helped him out of the car and led him towards the shed. ‘Wait.’ The android stopped him and watched the shed that lit up on command. The roof had been fixed and a few lightbulbs dangled from cables fastened to it. A few insects buzzed around the light sources and Nines hurried inside, leaving Gavin standing there admiring the comfy yet out of place looking decoration. As the android came back, he held a box and walked towards the tree, beckoning Gavin to follow him. In one swift motion Nines placed a blanket on the dried grass and leaned a few pillows against the tree. Then he sat down and looked up at Gavin expectantly.

‘What is this all?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Just sit down’, Nines laughed and patted the ground at his side. Slowly, Gavin approached and sat down. Even before he was fully seated, Nines had pulled a few bottles out of the box as well as plates with snacks. ‘Seriously, what is this all?’, Gavin asked, by now more perplexed than suspicious. ‘I believe you could call it a picknick, darling’, Nines explained. ‘Exactly one year ago, we were sitting here and didn’t know what to do next. You changed my life that day and I can’t say I regret it.’ ‘And…?’ ‘And I really like how that new life turned out in the end. Thought it was a reason to celebrate.’

Gavin just stared at the android. ‘Wait. Wait a moment. You disappearing all the time… How did this lead up to this?’ ‘Do you know how difficult it is to get real lightbulbs in a city that relies on neon lights? Everything calming and warm is ridiculously expensive, because some people intentionally push up the prize. I thought to change that by breaking in, getting what I need and sell the rest.’ ‘You… You didn’t really run face first in gang hideouts just to plan a picknick, did you?!’ Nines shrugged at Gavin’s incredulous eyes.

‘I wanted the best for today. The wine is made from real grapes, it’s not that synth-stuff you get at every bar. As is everything else. I could have either spent all our money on this or get them myself. It was easier.’ ‘Holy shit and I thought you were ratting me out for some kind of deal!’, Gavin called out in embarrassment. ‘I would never’, Nines grinned. ‘Although I do have some kind of deal for you, darling.’

Gavin looked up to the android and lifted a brow. ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. Gavin, we have lived together for a year now and I can’t imagine a life without you. And considering how high the chances of an untimely death are in our business, I think it’s long overdue that I asked you.’ ‘Asked me what?’, Gavin asked, not believing what was about to happen.

Nines simply turned around to him and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a tiny silver ring made from what looked like parts of machinery. ‘What is that?’, the human asked and couldn’t keep his eyes from it. ‘A ring, dumbass. Remember that Job from Fowler last month?’ ‘Yes. How could I forget that? You nearly died!’ Nines nodded and took Gavin’s hand in his. ‘That settled it for me. The ring is made from my damaged part and I want you to have it. If you want it.’ ‘What exactly are you asking, Nines?’ Nines looked up to him and he saw his LED turning at insane speed. ‘Gavin Reed. Do you want to marry me?’

Gavin stared at him, then at the ring and lastly at his surroundings. Who was he kidding here, he had hoped for his dream to come true, but he still couldn’t believe it as he saw it right before his very own eyes. Grinning like crazy, he dove in for a kiss instead and only afterwards panted: ‘Yes! Yes, I would love to.’ Nines couldn’t hide his own smile and pushed the ring onto Gavin’s finger where it lit up in the same colour and rhythm as the android’s LED. ‘I love you, Gavin’, he whispered, brushing his thumb over the ring before pulling the human in a tight hug, the man returned in equal strength. ‘I love you too, tin-can’, Gavin laughed and looked down on the ring over Nines’ shoulder.

He really was far too lucky for this world. But he wouldn’t ever think about complaining.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh Cyberpunk AU #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #This was fun but I don't have any plot left I think #SO have some fluff

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 39

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I took my position alongside the mansion. Stealth was the goal and it was the dead of night which made my semblance a no-no. My semblance was the antithesis of stealth. I waited next to Neapolitan for a pair of guards to approach the same blind corner we'd snagged Nickel from and killed his buddy.

Random chance that we ended up with Nickel and depositing the other guard's body in an alley. I suppose Nickel ended up in an alley too so there's that.

A patrol was coming up.

I activated my semblance at the last second and spent it leaping out and grabbing one of the pair. "Hey-gck." I broke his neck by using my semblance on the move. He had aura and I just went right through it. It was blue colored and small compared to the flare of my semblance. A double flash of blue accompanied the sound of breaking bones and cartilage.

The shattered moon shone it's soft light down overhead, giving everything an otherworldly appearance.

Neapolitan brought her's down much more stealthily. She smirked up at me to rub it in while she choked the dude she was holding to death or unconsciousness.

We dragged them into the mansion's blind corner. I stepped up, jumped off the wall, and pulled a security camera off the wall and crushed it with my bare hands. The metal crumpled beneath my fingers.

"How long do you figure we have?"

She held up five fingers.

I nodded in relative agreement. It could be as many as five minutes. That wasn't all that much time all things considered. In a fight it was practically forever but for a series of fights as we infiltrated? Not so much. I started charging up my next Limit Break. When we moved we moved together like we'd practiced it. In truth we were both relatively skilled hunters. This just came par for the course. I pulled my longsword and tried to jimmy the mansion doors open with the tip of the shorter, thinner blade.

Neapolitan teleported up high on the mansion walls and disabled another security camera. Whoever was supposed to be watching those wasn't doing a good job. Or malfunctions were common in which case Don Corneo deserved this. He deserved what we were about to bring down on him.

I struggled with the lock. The long blade I was using wasn't designed for this kind of play. In the end I resolved to simply cut it at the lock. I stepped back, took careful aim, and swept my sword down at the door. I hit the lock dead on and prayed I wouldn't trigger an electric alarm system.

Cink.

The door opened and we trickled inside. No alarms went off. Maybe it was luck or maybe there wasn't one in set up at the door. Could be a silent alarm, too.

Inside there were places the plaster had been redone recently. They stood out amongst the neater walls as the places most likely to conceal explosives. I entered into a fine atrium, nowhere near as large as that of Haven's. There were five guards there. I brought my sword to bear and Neapolitan silenced them with her semblance.

We were on them. I brought the longsword around and neatly divided one's shoulders. I side-flipped through the air, low to the ground, both hands on Crocea Mors with the shield still on my back and cut into another with two rapid horizontal swings.

One of them was trying to speak into a microphone at his collar. Barking out commands for reinforcements or similar but it came out hushed. I cut him down with a piercing movement that ran him through near the heart.

The mansion's quarters were tight. I thought it would be best to just use the longsword for now.

Neo killed one by stabbing down through the collar bone down into the chest cavity. A spray of bullets chased her and silently shattered a large chandelier. It fell to the ground and scattered across the ground. She backflipped and cartwheeled back away from the arms fire, her eyes drawn in focus.

Her gaze fluttered. Her eyes rolling back in her head and her eyelids moving fast as she tried to concentrate. I got between her and the shooter. Blocking her with my body and shielding her from the damage.

I was on to the last man by then. I picked him up with one hand and drove my sword through his chest with the other. My shield was slightly folded in sheath form on my back and my breastplate shone in the darkness.

Things were going well. The current objective was to get at least Neo into the Don's office. That was our win condition. Our lose condition was getting caught too soon and being forced to fight all the guards and wading through the minefield. In that case we wouldn't even get the Don. He'd be sealed away inside his little vault and not even Limit would let me get access to him.

The chandelier had scattered glass all across the floor and it crunched under my boots as Neo let sound return to the room. Her semblance was fucking crazy. Though mine was a little like that too. Mine was about damage and raw skill. Her's, on the other hand, had utility in spades.

She could put up both visual and auditory illusions and had at the very least some kind of short range teleportation feature. Maybe longer than I thought, but she could do about fifty feet in my estimation. That's the biggest cap I'd seen on her doing it.

She was how I was going to win this thing.

Soft blue light preambled through the atrium and windows. The moon was high tonight and light trickled into the now dark mansion from outside.

"You ready?" I whispered.

She just gave me an eager grin and we proceeded through the house. There was a choke point ahead with more guards. Neo hushed them and I started cutting them down.

This room still had the lights on unlike the atrium and the blood was plainly visible in the soft yellow lights as it splashed across a fine painting.

I tried to cut through flesh and met aura. I sent the man stumbling even if I didn't kill him. He fell down to his knees and tried to rise. A wordless shout at his lips.

I thrust up under the ribs of another and charged a little. My semblance activated. I used the speed and strength to slice another nearly in half. He fell down in a silent scream.

I came back to the one with aura and I spent my semblance on a whirlwind of attacks. The same one I'd done to Cinder. His head hit the ceiling hard enough to crack it and he died from the trauma I put his torso through before I flung him. His red aura shattered under my assault. I'd perfectly timed the arrival of my semblance to deal with this more difficult foe.

Machine gun fire peppered my back and I lanced out with a leap and reached out, grabbed the man and tossed him behind me into Neapolitan's waiting arms. She put the small blade into his throat and beamed as he died in her loving arms.

I looked around and spotted a security camera. I pointed it out to Neo as I sliced the last guard down and she destroyed it.

We had to be fast. This whole operation was speed dependent. Otherwise the Don might start setting off his explosives and calling his men enforce. Neo drew back from where she put her blade through the camera.

Anything could give us away. Missing camera feeds or guards which didn't check in when they were supposed to. Plus someone could come across the bodies we were leaving behind in our wake. I figured that might give us away, too.

There was a plan B. I had an explosive that might be able to crack the vault open but without knowing what kind of locks were on it I'd had to make a guess with the fire dust crystal.

Neo had watched me rig the thing up with rapt attention back in the motel room with the dead man still on the chair.

"Just in case."

I'd said.

"Might be able to blow our way into the thing. You think you can teleport through a crack in the wall?"

She'd just nodded. It was good to have back up plans. If nothing else we'd make the Don uncomfortable and he'd probably be loath to call the police and have them go through his house. The last thing he wanted was cops around.

We might be able to wait him out. He'd have to come out eventually. Of course if his men overwhelmed and killed us it would be over.

Killed me, rather. Neo could just escape.

For now she was sticking things out with me because I was fun and I might get her that shot at Cinder. If that changed I'd be willing to bet she'd be gone.

We battled our way through a hushed corridor next. Neo's parasol was bullet proof, probably with webbed Titania. And she led the charge with her legs. A flurry of kicks broke the lead sentry's neck. I leapt over her and brought my sword down on the next. I went right through the gun he tried to raise to shield himself and bit deep at the collar. He went down.

If our map was accurate, that just left the Don's office ahead.

He was the first to notice us in the next well lit room.

I rolled into the room and thrust forward into a guard's stomach only to meet aura. I stood and slashed at him once, twice, thrice at the neck until I got through. Neo handled a guard with an electric stick by using his own charging momentum to fling him into the ceiling.

The electric door to the vault started to slowly close.

It was big with these metal knobs which would undoubtedly be hard to blast through or force open.

The Don was on the other side in a disheveled office with a mahogany table hammering away at a button.

Limit activated as I sliced into the stomach of another aura ridden sentry. I'd get through the last two of them eventually but not soon enough.

I used my great strength and an arcing wide swung to clock one in the head. He dropped like a sack of rocks from the trauma to his head. Then I stepped forward and smashed the pommel of my sword into the nose of the last hard enough to drive it back into his head.

I flicked my weapon into the door to wedge it open. The Titania in my sword groaned but held. The metal really was incredible. Maybe a bit of edge warping but nothing I couldn't get repaired if the rest of this op went well.

I gestured to Neo and she flickered inside through the tiny gap in the door. She pulled the Don's hand off the button and hit a different one and the door started to open.

I strode inside and Neo unhushed us.

"So," I said with heavy footfalls. "Should I tell you how this plays out or let you guess?" He leaned away from us with fear in his eyes.

I pressed a button with an arrow to the left on his desk, the same way the door was going and the mechanical vault closed behind me, reversing a second time on electric hinges.

Wide eyed, he was locked in with us.

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I examined the edge warp on Crocea Mors with a scowl. There were some things that were sacred, some things that should remain as they were. For gods' sake if my mind and body weren't one of them then my sword should be.

The warp wasn't severe enough that the blade wouldn't sheath or anything. And it wasn't in a bad location per se, about midway between the hilt and tip. It could be worse, I decided.

I looked from the blade's edge down at Don Corneo.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow jumped out at me and I turned swiftly, prepared for more of a fight.

There was a secondary security deposit box at the edge of the room. At a guess that was where all the Lien was. Maybe the adrenaline just had me jumpy, was all. I hoped I wasn't going to start seizing. That would be pretty bad right here and now.

I put my sword in the shield and put my face down in Don Corneo's. I said nothing.

"Please…" he begged from his comfy looking chair.

"Listen, my friend here likes to torture people. She likes it a lot. She even gets off on it a little. A bit like you do with honey bee costumes."

He looked over at Neo and she nodded, eyes full of mirth as she loomed over him in those heels. A wicked smile etched in her face.

He shuddered. Maybe he didn't get off on those costumes anymore. "Wait… You haven't even told me what you want…"

I was maybe letting him stew in it.

"You're going to give us all your money. All of it. Every last Lien."

"You don't understand," he pleaded. "Cash is pretty much all I have right now. I'll be destitute."

"You hear that?" I asked Neo. "Cash rich and asset poor."

She smirked up at me. I bent back down over Corneo.

"You have your body. You have your life. You want to keep them?" I pulled out my explosive and stuck it to the smaller vault. Then I slammed his head right next to it.

"Oh please. Oh please. Gods please don't."

"See I don't really need your cooperation. I don't really need you to open this little vault. I can open it and your head at the same time. I can hand you over to my friend here and she'll cut your balls off and she'll like it too. There's only one way you get clear of this mess alive."

I wasn't really going to set it off while we were locked in this airtight compartment. But I could always open the door a little and give it some space. I could maybe survive an explosion like that. Maybe. But I would be none too fresh afterward and we still needed to fight our way out of here.

"Please I'll be nothing. I'll be no one."

"Cut his fingers off."

She held his hand out against the vault wall and drew her blade from her parasol.

"Fine! Fine! I'll open it, I'll do it. Just don't hurt me. Please!"

She cut him anyways and he screamed. His thumb dropped to the floor at my feet. I held his head against the little vault while Neo worked at his hand.

I looked at his desk. It seems the Don got a fancy looking new scroll, too, after Weiss made off with his last one.

"And I want your scroll, too."

He whimpered quietly.

"I'll do it. I'll do it please no more. Please."

Suffice to say we got the safety deposit box open and made off like criminals. I let Neo kill him too, couldn't let him start blowing things up on us or calling his guards.

There were millions of Lien in the little vault. We even had to leave some behind just because we couldn't carry it all.

"A thousand Lien for you." I counted out. "And one thousand for me."

She grinned down at me while I worked. Something nostalgic in her smile. Maybe a little wistful.

I let her think what she wanted. It'd be only cruel to crush her dreams and memories.

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-WG

#war of the roses #ff7 #ffvii #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!Jaune arc #rwby #white rose #whiterose #white knight #whiteknight #jaune arc #neapolitan #motion sickness #lancaster #altpower #altsemblance

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ramrodd · 3 years

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01 Is Sinaiticus a Fake?

COMMENTARY: Who cares? Christian apologists have missed the most important fact long before any codex gets to Sainai and the question is, where did the first codex transfer the intelligence report from Caesaria to Rome that Tertullian writes that compelled Tiberius to propose making Jesus a legitimate deity to the Senate come from? How did the Gospel According to Mark get to Rome? By scroll? John Mark didn't write The Gospel According to Mark in Rome: he was it's publicsher in Alexandria some time after Cyprus and before he was reconciled with Paul who was in a dungeon and needed all the moral support he could organize. Cornelius wrote The Gospel According to Mark and was the curator of Quelle, which began as a routine surveillance file on a potential Zealot who had just come out of the closet with the Jewish aesthetic John , aka "The Baptizer". Cornelius was probably the source for the Roman content of the Gospel of Peter, which is a surrmary of the intelligence report that Pilate and Cornelius sent to the Praetorian Guards as quickly as they could after the Resurrection. Coronelius was a combination of Pilate's Chief of Staff and Command Sergeant Major. That's the significance of the associateion "the Italian Cohort" i.e. the Praetorian Guard, Cornelius was a career centurion with the Praetorian guards and had hit his glass ceiling in Rome so he did a little retirement planning and was seconded by Sajanus to Caesarea with Pilate in 27 and began to carve out a little retirement villa in basically the Isreal version of the South of France. Nobody is nto charmed by Galilee. And he was very well paid on active duty and was guarnteed the land he occupied when he retired in a very fashionalbe Roman colony. Across Lake Tiberius/Galilee Sea was a planned community of 10 urban centers that Jesus visits and Jesus' mother Mary grew up in what was basically a gated community for middle class Romans and Israelis. The Zealots fucked it up for everybody, but in 30 CE, Cornelius had it made in the shade and then Jesus shows up leading a lynch mob and is haded over to Pilate and Cornealius is in the room and he knows Jesus from Capernaum because Jesus saved his servant's life with a word across space and time. The reason why he and Pilate were in Jerusalem was for crowd control and quick reaction against things like Tet 68 and January 6 because every Jew in walkding distance showed up for this festival. And nobody wanted a riot.So, the Gospel According to Mark is the punch-line to that old chestnut: "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?" What happened next is why the codex changed the epistemology of communications and record keeping. Cornelius is the centurion in Matthew 8 and Luke 7. He is not the centurion at the cross nor the centurion at the tomb. He's done that kind of work and is from what was basically the Roman "Old Guard" at our Arlington Cemetary and White House events. I mean, this guy is totally squared away. But, by 58 ce, he is also a grandfather and his kindliness is the merce of the grandfather with his children's chlidren. Ollie North compares himself to Cornelius on the stump and says that talking with Jesus was as dangerous for Cornelius as working in a Republican White House was for him, Ollie.. Ollie is a genuine centurion of the American republic, but Cornelius's relationship to Jesus in Capernaum was that of a Alabama State Trooper pulling over Barack Obama for driving while negro. He wasn't belligerent in any manner, and authentically mindful of the Hebrew cultural value around clean and unclean. The hting that blows Jesus's mind is that he assumed Jesus could do his magic from long disttance. The timing in the gospels is that this happens before Jarius's daughter falls ill, so the question I've never heard any preacher in the world ponder, how did Cornealius come to track down Jesus and make his ask? Well, we know his servant asked him to do it, but did he know about Jesus before his servant became ill or did he become interested in him with an intelligence report came across his desk as a APB kind of thing, new guy in town, keep and eye out. The Romans had a garrison in Capernaum guarding the frontier of Isreal along a trade route from Asia. This operated as a forward listening post for the two legions in the Caesarea garrison and, well, Jesus is bapatized between Passover and Pentacost in 27 and John the Baptist is arrested just before Tabernacle and is the trigger for the spiritual tulmet in Galilee that generates the storm Jesus calms just before Tabernacle, Cornelius comes to Jesus with this request. Only, it's not mentioned in the Gospel According to Mark. Nor is the Lord's Prayer. Peter remember Cornelius from the old days when he's summoned by the Holy Spirit to Cornelius's villa. You get the feeling of a very mellow community before Peter get's there and it echoes the salutation Cornelius receives in his vision: Cornelius has made a career as a faithful republican servant-leader and his pagen wholesomeness reflected his God-Fearer relationship with Judaism from the balcony. He was content to be a second-class citizen of the Hebrew community and he got to keep his foreskin, best of all worlds. And the Holy Ghost agrees and reinforces his faith with a visti from the Spirit of the Lord before Peter could really get a head of steam on what amounts to the Apostle's Creed, which employs the same syntax as the Lord's Prayer. Acts 10:34 - 43 is the essence of the Apostle's Creed. This is what Peter relayed to Cornelius that Cornelius didn't have, which was insider information of what was going on inside the Jesus Insurgency as it matched up with the time line of the narrative Quelle was recording with Roman spy reports. If you are reading Mark in the original, everytime you hit the word εὐθὺς, that is a Roman apparatus indicating Quelle is either the source of the pericope or verifies the event from independent sources or both. 10 times in the first chapter. Peter's narrative is woven through Quelle's time line until we get to Chapter 15, which is entirely Roman content. This is what Cornelius tells Peter what happened to jesus after the cock crowed twice. And that becomes the Gospel of Peter, which reveals that the Crucifixion is a coventant cutting ceremony like in Genesis 15 but between the name in Genesis 15 and the Roman republican centuriate. I mean, which version went up the chain of command to Tiberius: the Roman content in the Gospel of Peter or the combined narrative of Matthew and Luke at the tomb? The Romans worked on an uncompromising habeus corpus basis. Somebody was in deep shit if Jesus wasn't dead and somebody else was in deep shit if they couldn't produce the body they had officially sealed for safekeeping, on pain of death. The person that thinks the most like Cornelius currently is CMA Michael A. Grinston, who is at the apex of the American republican servant-leader. This is the Archetype of the covenant cutting ceremony washed in the blood of Jesus. it isn't a religous thing, but the essence of Romans 13:1 -7 as the expression of the secular rule of law. The centurion, as a functional role, is the iron jaw and teeth of the 4th lion of Daniel. The leading edge of the Industrial Revolution. The difference between the NRA version of the 2nd Amendment and the actual nature of a well regulated militia relative to the secular rule of law. The difference between the well-behaved and loving tourists of January 6 and the Capitol Police. John Mark is probably the author of The Gospel of John. The Gospel According to Mark is called the Gospel According to Mark because it was published by John Mark and it was important to keep the Roman origin a secret. The enemies of Tiberius made it dangerous to embrace the god of Tiberius, no matter what hoops He had managed to jump through. The word of the Resurrection went through the Roman legions like grass through a goose. True or not, it was just too juicy for the basic infantry soldier. It's a great war story to share around a camp fire or in a comfortable barracks or local night club. But Timberius had made serious enemies when he executed Tiberius for conspiracy and its not clear to me if Sajanus was still alive when the first report of Resurrection came to the Praetorian Guard: he was killed in 31 and could have inhibited the feed forward function he represented from Tiberius's beauracracy. Pilate is recalled in 36 and TIberius dies in 37. And then, the Holy Ghost brings Cornelius and Peter together and Cornelius updates the first field reports about Jesus and the Christians (a Roman construct) in Quelle and forwards The Gospel According to Mark autograph by codex to Rome just in time to hit the seam between Caligula and Claudius but the nascent Roman Church of Rome stayed on the down -low. from the residual poison against Tiberius, but everywhere the Roman legions patrolled, Christianity took root. The thing that Paul brings to the Roman Church is Romans 13:1 - 7, which validates the moral structures of the republic as a creature of the secular rule of law. This goes back to Socrates and the nature of civic duty. The debate between Stoics and Epicureans is an inquiry into the dimensions of Duty and the republican servant-leader. It's why the NRA version of the 2nd Amendment is such bull shit. I mean, the Roman example of duty is a Roman general who beheaded his own son for violating standing orders to not leave your post. The connection between that example and a God who purposefully sacrifices His Only Begotten Son is irresistable. And it all came north by codex. Loose leaf papryus bound together for easy assembly and access.

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nightmarenoise · 4 years

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Some thoughts on TMNT 2012

I finished watching the entirety of the TMNT 2012 series a while ago and boy, do I have some thoughts™. First of all though, the following is going to be my opinions and you’re free to disagree with them. If you feel like attacking me for expressing these opinions though, I’m just going to have to ask you to take a minute and consider that you are about to be a bitch online over an eight year old children’s animated show, and that maybe you should find something else to base your entire identity around. Secondly, I don’t hate the show, not by any means. It was fine. It was fine. It was fine, you guys. I wouldn’t have watched it otherwise. I watched usually about half a season per day because I have too much time on my hands but if I do more than 13 episodes, my puny brain will implode. That being said, I understand that the binge watching might have affected my judgement, because having to wait for a new episode to air each week hits different, I know. Still, I came home after work each day, cozied up in bed and watched 13 episodes of turtle shenanigans before going to sleep and my sleep schedule has never been better. But I digress. Also, I will compare 2012 to Rise, because that’s the only other TMNT show I’ve seen and because this is my post and I want to and it’s only initially.

I feel like the main difference between Rise and 2012 is that Rise is a character-driven show, while 2012 is ultimately plot-driven.

Why do things in Rise happen? Because a character wants something (the boys want to buy their dad a nw robe, April wants to spend a normal day with her new friend, etc, those are just from the top of my head). The motivations are ultimately mundane, and then the story goes from there.

Why do things in 2012 happen? Because the plot said so. Sure, the characters grow and change, but they’re ultimately vehicles for the plot. We don’t really take a minute to let the characters breathe. Usually, things happen because the Turtles saw something on patrol and they’re on patrol because they know the plot is waiting out there to get them.

The show starts with April’s dad being kidnapped by the Krang (/Kraang? It’s unclear) and April herself being spared this presumably gruesome fate because Donnie saved her at the last second. She then goes on to live with an aunt we never see.

We also don’t see much of how this affects April at first. Sure, she is shown to be sad and wanting to get her father back, but the episode ends on the Turtles leaving her at her aunt’s place and then we’re done for the day. Hell, the next time we see April, she just casually drops by their place to show Mikey how to make online friends.

Maybe that’s just me being overly criticial, but I could have done with more time between those moments, showing her coming to terms with things, her normal day-to-day live, or heck, even just going to the lair for the first time.

But we don’t get that because plot has to happen.

April isn’t the only character who suffers from that, but I feel like it affects her the most.

The writers seem to have learned their lesson, because when April loses her dad for the second time, to mutation this time around, she blames the Turtles (which isn’t wrong) and then doesn’t talk to them for a month while presumably going back to her aunt, who I suppose never asks any questions. She only goes back to talking to them when Casey tells her a similar story and she realizes something something, hurting someone without meaning to. Which is fine, but it’s also not really, because it implies April being rightfully upset isn’t valid, because the Turtles didn’t mean to mutate her dad and it was an accident, but it feels like it tone polices someone for experiencing a loss and not letting her take some time for herself to come to terms with that.

But y'know we need her, in part because she’s The Special, but most importantly, so one of the most tedious love subplots can happen.

I know they explained April’s specialness as her being a human/Krang mutant and the Krang needing her unique brain to mutate the entire planet because …reasons. Except for when they later attack New Yok and then don’t need her for that anymore. On that note, I do not understand Krang’s plan at all. Time passes faster in their dimension and they’re kind of at war with the Triceratons and have trouble with the Utrom, so they want to leave (even though the Triceratons are clearly also in our universe, so why not pick a different dimension to take over entirely? There’s established to be ten) and mutate a planet to take over. This is all well and good, except they’ve been at it for about seven million years? Krang takes credit for creating the first humans with mutagen and it’s been mentioned that they steered human evolution to the point where they could create a human/Krang hybrid, such as April. But why did they only have one? They lost track of her when her dad and her fled to New York City, wouldn’t it have been more convenient to have more mutants to do their vague mutant stuff they require by the plot to take over the planet?

Even if we assume that this first mutation means that the first humans didn’t surface between seven and five million years ago, humans haven’t evolved that much in the last couple thousand years. Why wait so long? It must have been billions of years for the Krang.

I know it’s a cartoon and stuff, but they could have easily removed that problem by cutting the line about Krang taking credit for human evolution and for the Krang having been with us for thousands of years. It just creates problems.

Speaking of problematic, the romantic subplots. So, Leo wants to bang his sister, Donnie is creepily obsessed with the first human girl he’s ever met and Mikey is such a good boy, he gets two love interests, because one isn’t enough for all the love and goodness contained in orange boy. I still think it’s weird because all of these love interests are humans, but I gradually got over that. I managed to think about this without physically convulsing for ten whole minutes, for starts.

Okay, so Donnie/April is just bad. The writing and the execution are bad. The characters are fine, I love Donnie, even though he focuses way too much of his time and attention on obsessing over April, but I can let that go on account of him being a teen dealing with his very first ever crush. April though is frequently made to be a callous bitch who knows of his feelings and leads him on when she wants something, but pushes him away at all other times. I vividly remember the time New York was overrun by Krang and April helped Donnie bandage his injured arm and he was about to confess his feelings to her and she pulled too tight to get him to stop. Instead of being up front about it or just telling him that she either liked him or not or that now just wasn’t the time to focus on romance - all of which super valid in their own right. Rip the bandaid off, girl. None of them look especially good coming out of this.

It gets worse considering that after seasons of back and forth and even introducing Casey to give us a love triangle, everyone’s favorite thing in media and April redeeming herself by also being That Way to Casey and by redeeming I mean informing us that she just isn’t really fit for a relationship because she is very toxic in handling them, the whole thing is just kind of dropped forever. There’s no payoff. We spent so much time watching Donnie agonize over this, get worse, then get over his stalker-ish tendencies and get rewarded with a kiss and then nothing ever happens. They don’t even have a conversation about their feelings. The show tries to make it seem like there’s a special connection between April and Donnie because she kills him and then feels bad and brings him back, but, no. That’s not how any of that works. Ultimately this whole thing feels like a huge and infuriating waste of time. Fourth place. And that’s a kindness.

Leo and Karai get third place, mainly because of the incest. Neither of them is as toxic over this subplot and it also has the common decency of not taking up that much time, but it’s still weird. I don’t have much to say here. I guess it was dropped in the end, but maybe also not, but at least there weren’t 30 episodes about Leo agonizing over Karai while she was being weird and also she had her own thing going on and felt like a more fleshed out character than April despite getting less screen time. Third place.

Mikey gets silver because while he’s flirting with two human girls, they both seem to be exclusively into it and also he’s much more mature about dealing with it than his supposedly intelligent brother. Get this. Mikey, being mature at something. None of these ships are confirmed, but it’s a nice change of pace.

Raph takes gold because he fell in love with a girl after she beat the crap out of him and nothing is more valid than that.

Okay, the plot feels kind of rushed, in that they’re confessing undying love after kissing twice, but one, they’re teens and two, this is just the best we’re going to get out of this show.

Casey, well.

Casey exists. He doesn’t add all that much to the story. He has a delightful dynamic with Raph, coming in just after Slash confronted him with his worst traits and then reinforcing the “be a vigilante and do good”-angle and that’s nice. Outside of that though, he tries to hit on April, he hits things with his hockey sticks and I guess he has a family he cares about that we never see. Oops.

I’m very ambivalent about Splinter. I do get him and he’s a good sensei, but kind of a lousy father? Sure, his entire life went up in flames quite spectacularly, but as soon as he realizes his daughter is alive, he often seems to prioritize getting her back over the lives of the four sons he actually raised and spent the last fifteen years with? Also, he’s a dick to Mikey? He gets better later and then he dies. Hm.

Mikey wasn’t as annoying as I feared, going in. He was still stupid, but he had his moments. I also didn’t find him as funny as some of the writers probably hoped, but he was fine. He’s a good boy who deserved better every step of the way, but his brothers and Splinter are kind of not nice to him despite him being just as capable as his brothers. Neither is the show, often making him the butt of a joke or downplaying his achievements (producing super-retro mutagen, saving all his brothers from parasite wasps and the one time he saved the city from cannibal pizza it was treated like a “it was all a dream or was it” and nobody believed him). He doesn’t get a lot of development, but he’s the goodest boy.

Raph again surprised me. He arguably underwent the most development, dealing with his many demons and getting a grip on his temper. This was especially apparent in the Northampton arc when he did chores without complaint and helped Leo train.

Leo on the other hand, started as the leader of the team and ended the story as the de-facto leader of the family and also he was stronger now. I don’t know. Being a leader was his defining trait from start to finish and while he agonized over that, he wasn’t allowed much development outside of that. His first meeting with Karai introduced this subplot about him wanting to be irresponsible and do his own thing, but that was quickly dropped and never brought up again. I liked him best when he was being a dork over his favorite TV show or that time he went to space and on his first outing tried to hit on an alien lady. I would have liked to see more of that Leo, because that Leo was actually interesting.

Donnie, I don’t know. Most of his time was poured into the world’s worst romantic subplot and outside of that he had some traits, but he was mostly there so he could analyze things, develop antivenoms at the drop of a hat, finally create a retromutagen and build 152 vehicles. I like Donnie, but there isn’t much to talk about that isn’t directly tied to April. Except maybe how he promised to turn Timothy back into a human and then never did, even though we keep seeing his frozen remains in the back of the lab. For shame, Donnie. For shame.

To the show’s credit, a lot of the mutants looked horrifying and creepy. They had a tight grip on that horror vibe and it was great. They maintained a balance of comedy and horror and while it wasn’t great, it was a nice reprieve.

I hated Shredder and I know I was supposed to, but I will never get over what a petty bitch he was.

The thing that hit me the hardest was probably the destruction of Earth at the end of season 3. I was legitimately upset about that, so that’s probably a good thing. But when five minutes into the next episode Scrooge McDoctor Who did some timey whimey bullshit to reverse it, I was not any less upset. Make of that what you will. (No, I’ll explain, I felt cheated and it was cheap and annoying. Just when you think the show has some balls, it pulls a “sike” and then flips back to the status quo, usually). The space arc was simultaneously interesting and also not, with a lot of predictable plot threads, but at least we got more locations than the same two nocturnal New York streets all the time.

The ending though was super weird. The other turtles then went into space and probably died or some shit, because they never show up again and also the Fugitoid’s head is alive in orbit, but whatever, no time for that because we have to go back, for the 50th time, to the Foot!

The plot has no time to unfold because the plot needs to happen.

Do you ever think the writers squabbled a lot? It kind of feels like a lot of them wanted to do their own thing and then someone else meddled with that and then we got a patchwork of unconnected threads, left loose and dangling.

I was surprised when we got some buildup to April’s growing dependence on her alien crystal and even one episode dealing with its powers before we got to the episode dealing with the crystal’s effects on her. That sort of nuanced pacing was new. I was also initially very sure that this subplot would only find its payoff in the season finale or half season finale, like most other plot threads usually did, but no, it got its own separate episode.

Yes, they went all Dark Phoenix, but the ending was super anticlimactic, because April killed Donnie and then someone reminded her of it and she felt bad, so she stopped being possessed by evil. They fucked up on the home stretch, but they tried.

I never liked the time travel episodes with Renet much, they felt weirdly intrusive and adding nothing new to the plot. It felt like the first one only happened so we could meet Tang Shen before she died and that didn’t add a whole lot of anything. It confirmed things we already knew and introduced Mikey’s love interest and that was that.

The show tried to do a thing about anti-mutant racism once, but it sure is a good thing that the only people racist against mutants were the mafia, so we don’t have to worry about making a nuanced take here. They could have done something really interesting, but then went for simple black-and-white-morality instead.

My favorite episode was when the boys played Dungeons and Dragons with a sparrow mutant.

The worst part of the show though was its fifth season. First it seemed like it would just continue from where the fourth season had left off with Shredder being revived - because like a good villain, or herpes, Shredder always comes back - by the worst looking dragon I have ever seen in my entire life, but then that arc surprisingly ended after four episodes, shocking me to my core. Almost as shocking as Donnie almost killing a guy, but then deciding not do at the very last second. Again, feels like they could have done more here, but then they didn’t.

The fifth season started with two arcs that seemed to tie up loose plot threads, like Shredder’s revival and the bug alien guy I could have sworn died when he was yeeted out of an airlock coming back to enact his grim revenge, all so Raph’s girlfriend could live on the same planet as him and then never appear on the show ever again. Also Mikey died and his brothers were sad for five seconds before going about their business and then he came back with superpowers and then he conveniently lost them at the end of the episode, because the plot doesn’t have time for things that are emotional or interesting. Then there was that time the writers were like “What if we made Yojimbo, but with anthropromorphic animals and also the turtles are there” and it existed and the Turtles added very few things to the story and then went back to their dimension and never talked about it ever again. Or the time they said “what if we made Mad Max and also everything was terrible” and so they did and Leo became a hulked up war criminal but everyone forgave him because he wasn’t himself but immediately snapped out of it after seeing his brothers and Raphael was on steroids and Donnie became a robot in what I assume was a reference to the comics where he died and became a robot and also Donnie ended up being the only one whose body died, but considering what became of his brothers, he was probably the best off? And Raph had amnesia just so he could say he had amnesia and it didn’t actually factor into the plot once because he immediately recognized Mikey. I don’t know, I hated that special.

But at least it gave me emotions. The best part of the “that time travel demon is back and trying to monster mash” arc was when I remembered that I could browse tumblr on my phone while it was on and then I didn’t bore myself to death and also didn’t miss anything of value.

The series finale was fine. Nothing to write home about, but perfectly fine, even though the show threw an awful lot of shade at the 1987 version.

I feel like the most jarring thing about the fifth season was that the show spent four seasons going out of its way to present itself as something with a cohesive narrative and a plot that goes on and on and then we get these disjointed stories, some of which have absolutely nothing to do with the story at all. Just the writers throwing some idea at a wall to see what sticks because they either didn’t have any ideas anymore, or too many, but the end result wasn’t great and I’ll recommend newcomers to stop after the fourth season, because for real.

Tiger Claw existed and he was infuriatingly capable and powerful and then his sister chopped off his arm and then he got a robot arm and that was it forever. I don’t know, some episodes felt more pointless than others, but some managed to be fun or interesting and some just added something they thought was fun and it ended up never mattering again.

Some characters disappeared randomly, like the dove guy and I don’t care enough to ask what happened there.

Karai’s mutation being reversed off-screen was super bizarre. Sure, her being able to change at will as metal as heck, but it felt weird and incomplete and like I missed an episode. Maybe I did. It was also infuriating how her venom was a plot point in one episode and never brought up again after that.

Outside of that, I don’t have much insight to offer. Other people already exlained how the fight scenes, while nice, are not very accurate, especially the bo staff moves, or how the show is very dark, not in tone, but in actual absence of light and lots of greyscales or how most characters have singular traits rather than fleshed out personalities, especially the supporting cast. How there isn’t a lot of diversity in the human characters and how figure-hugging a lot of April’s and Karai’s clothing is (shoutout to April’s yellow shirt, it’s uncomfortable to look at, cheers) or how the female characters are frequently damselled.

I liked when the animation added personality to the characters because the writing sure didn’t think it had time for that.

All in all, it’s a mixed bag for me. It’s a fine show to watch if you have the time and it’s not all bad and I can see why people enjoy it, but it’s not for me. I liked some episodes enough to watch again, but I feel like in nine out of ten cases, I’ll opt to rewatch Rise instead because it has more of what I personally like, but I won’t think less of you if you enjoyed this version of the show. I’m not telling people that one version of the Turtles is superior to the other, just that I think it’s important to take off those rose-colored glasses and be critical of the things you consume every now and again.

But if you prefer plot-driven shows that can be surprisingly dark, you might enjoy this. Or you could watch Avatar, because it has that as well as three-dimensional characters and better worldbuilding.

Thank you for reading my way-too-long thoughts about an animated kid’s show.

#some of these are nitpicks some of these are not #i did not beta read this #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #tmnt 2012 #Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles 87 #tmnt 87

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