#What does the violence specialist do when there is no immediate violence at hand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Ready Player 01 | JJK x Reader | 🔞❤️☁️

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: dystopia!AU, former Game developer!Jk, former pro gamer!JK, former IT specialist!Reader, former programmer!Reader, romance, Smut, slight cyberpunk elements

Warnings/tags: injustice, forcefully controlled public, violence (police/government officials against citizens), unfair powerplay, interrogation, tech talk, Jungkook be antisocial as FUCK but so is the reader lmao wbk, fear of physical contact (Haphephobia), past trauma and mentions of a bad childhood, insomnia, crime, smut because yes it’s me hello my content isn't kiddy-proof in the first place what yall want from me I'm not sure, but that’s waaY at the end ya know, friends to lovers, a slightly sassy AI but we love her, reader struggles with emotions, I mean same tbh, they're both so sweet tho I cant, not proofread because let me live

Summary: there’s a war going on; silent, but it’s there. Media has been strictly become controlled and regulated- to the point of making it illegal to own a TV or phone with internet access without a valid license. But there’s always some people that will try to break free from the controlling force.

"-a new age. This is a new year. And remember; we're doing this for the greater good. Until tomorrow." The news reporter stops talking after she somberly looks somewhere behind the camera that is pointed at her.

Your room is dark- the TV brightness on it's lowest setting so you can see what's going on- but outside, no one can see the light shining in your tiny apartment. Investing in blackout curtains had really paid off at the end of the day.

You don't want to get caught.

There's an announcement van driving past your window; the tiny slits in your curtains where the light from outside can creep its way inside brightening a bit as the headlights pass your windows. Something is spoken, and by now everyone knows the routine speech.

"Electricity will be shut down in five minutes. We advice to save all progress immediately- and we wish a good nights rest. Electricity will be shut down in five minutes..-" It repeats, over and over, counting down the minutes. You slowly move into your kitchen, opening one of the loose floor tiles to turn on your own emergency electricity system. With well practiced movements you close the tile again, moving the rug over it as you walk back into your living room, swiftly sliding the TV behind your wardrobe to make it disappear. As if on cue; there's a knock at your door.

The same as always. Routine. Two times, loud and clear. You don't even have to look through the peephole to know what awaits behind it.

"Yes?" You ask, rubbing your eyes as if you had been already asleep. The officer behind the door nods at you shortly, a mild smile on his face as he looks down at you.

"We didn't mean to wake you miss. Just routine, as usual." He says, peeking into your apartment to look for any electronics still running. It's pitch black however- so he simply nods, as his colleague notes something into his tablet. "We wish a good nights rest miss. Again, sorry for intruding." He apologizes, and you nod, closing the door.

Only when the street lights turn dark, do you move from your bed.

"Creator." The AI voice chimes up, her voice greeting you as as you lift the tile on the floor again- your phone connecting to the AI to show information you instantly decode and note down inside your head. "Player01 has just connected." The voice states, and you sit down on your cold kitchen flooring, smiling a little. "He has sent a message. Would you like me to play it?" The voice asks, and you take a deep breath.

"Yes." You say, and there's a small sound indicating the start of the voice message. A male voice is head.

"Hey, whats up?" He asks, and you can hear something in the background- maybe an empty can or something similar. "I uh.. I'm on my way. Should I bring anything? Ah wait, I know the answer to that.." He says, chuckling at the end of his sentence, and you can hear him zip up his jacket as he moves around. "Yeah uh.. just text or something, I'll bring stuff over. Can't have you starve." He ends, and the AI speaks up again.

"Would you like to repeat the message?" She asks, and you shake your head at her; a signal the artificial intelligence has come to detect quite well. "Should I archive it?" She questions again, and this time, you nod- something your invisible assistant can pick up due to motion sensoring.

"Send him a message." You say. "Tell him: I only need you. Get yourself here in one piece and I'm happy. And I'm very capable of taking care of myself." You state, and your phone shows a small loading message- indicating that the voice is doing as you said. It chimes up after a moment. "Thanks Kana." You say.

"No problem creator. Would you like for me to run through the databases now?" She asks, and you nod, a smile on your face. "Database search in progress. Estimated time: sixteen minutes and eighteen seconds." You huff out a breath as you look at the tiny display on your arm; tiny, yet powerful as it's your way of keeping Kana- your AI assistent- close at all times. Tonight, there would seem to be a lot to dig through.

They really added a lot of content these days.

It's not the door that makes you notice that there's a visitor after a while- He never uses it anyways for some reason. You're sitting on your kitchen floor with a small cup of tea in your hands- kept hot inside a slightly beaten-looking thermos can since you can't use to water boiler at night. Using anything other than Kana would cause a spike the police would be sure to notice; and you're not ready to get caught yet.

Not tonight.

It's a boy who, after a moment, opens the unclosed kitchen window to climb in; his combat boots getting a little snow and dirt from the outside into your apartment as his 80's looking jacket makes distinctive noises as it brushes against the sides of your window. His blonde hair has grown out a bit these days you notice- the roots clearly showing. It's a little wet and slightly curly from the moisture. It must be snowing outside- or maybe it had. You couldn't know for sure.

You never left your apartment.

He closes the window after slipping on the tiles inside a little, the plastic bags noisy as he almost drops them- sheepishly taking off his boots as he smiles at you. His socks are different from one another- but that's another thing so distinctive and just so.. him. He's his own person, always has been; it's what brought you two together, after all. You both stood out against the 'regular public' these days; with his brightly almost white-bleached hair he was like an albino in a sea of crows.

But you knew he didn't need that to stand out to you.

You can still remember the first few times the boy in front of you has visited you; the times where he had just dyed his hair to rebel out, or when he pierced your ears in exchange for you to do it to him as well. It was like you had made a blood pact in your kitchen that night- you had somehow gotten closer, formed a little more than just a simple companionship in order to riot against the law. He began growing close. Gave you a nickname. Began calling you his player 2. Began calling you his 'ace'. He had explained that he thought of it from memories of his gaming days; the two fighting teams always called red and blue, and one of his favorite weapons having that nickname- simply because it always 'saved his ass last minute'. He had rambled on about his last tournament after that, eyes sparkling and cheeks round from cold noodles.

You had become friends.

"hey." He says after sitting close across from you on the cold floor; the opened tile and Kana's core exposed to you two, the only source of light apart from your bracelet. The colorful LED's paint marks on his face and illuminate his features to you; but it does the same to you from his point of view. It's a familiar sight. "How are you?" He asks, almost shyly, but you know that's not what's bothering him.

"Hey Jungkook." You simply say with the hint of a smile, as you answer him. "Haven't slept well these days but, what's new I guess." You chuckle, and Jungkook smiles too- though a glimpse of concern is still shown your way. He knows however that forcing you to sleep won't do much good- your insomnia was too bad to really conquer it in a day or two just by taking naps.

And also; who was he to talk about solving personal issues.

"Have you seen the most recent reports?" You ask him, and the boy somberly shakes his head.

"I was unable to." He states. "They were patrolling close to my apartment complex because there had been someone reporting a Glitcher today." A 'glitcher'- a slang word now commonly used for people like Jungkook and you. People who went against the nightly routines, people who tried to trick the system by using electricity at night, owning media, consuming it, or dealing with it. It somehow became worse than underground drugs. "They pulled him out at around twelve or so- but they seemed too on edge the entire day, so I didn't risk it." He says, and you nod. Jungkook had always been a very good person when it came to calculating risk versus reward. He was good at reading people too- even though he didn't interact much, he got out of his apartment a lot more than you did. "Anything important?" He asks, and you shrug.

"There was a report that China and Japan were still on edge- with the chinese government arguing that they would soon start with 'more drastic measures to get things under proper control', whatever that means." You say, and Jungkooks brows furrow as he starts to pick on the skin of his jaw. "Let's just hope the flood doesn't throw us under the sea as well if it escalates I guess.." You say, and the boy across from you nods.

"Creator." Kana's voice chimes up, making Jungkook look up before remembering that the only source would be your bracelet, which you look at as well. "My scan of your body shows that you have not consumed a sufficient amount of calories today. I recommend a meal in the next five to eight minutes to avoid malnutrition." She says, and you groan. "I take this as a form of verbal communication. Running data search..." She says, as Jungkook looks at you; thoroughly amused by the teasing banter between the AI and his friend. "My data search concludes that you are annoyed, creator. I have only stated a fact however-" She continues, and Jungkook steps in.

"I've brought some leftovers from my dinner today we can eat." He says, pulling out some plastic containers as he moves to get proper cutlery out of your drawers. He makes sure to push them towards you, making sure to nod with a smile as you nod and thank him a little embarrassed. "It's nothing. You know I love you too much to let you starve!" He states with a grin, bunny teeth on full display as bitterness creeps up your throat- something you make sure to swallow down before beginning to eat.

Because the kind of love he's talking about right now, is not the kind of love you want him to feel for you.

"You forgot to give it a proper validation there-" He points out as you type away. "Otherwise it will just run instantly, and everything at once. That could crash older systems, and we know that V95 uses an older laptop, so we should take that into account." He says, and you nod, clicking back to the spot Jungkook is talking about.

This is what you're both good for.

Writing code for you had always been something you did with a passion- simply because you were good at it. Numbers and short phrases were something you could remember with ease; but you never had to think much about the visual aspect of programs in your department back when you were able to work for a simple programming company. You had simply always been tasked to program security systems and automatically updating firmware, or simple AI's for factory robots. Jungkook however had been all about the visuals; he had been programming games after all. That's why you two fit so well together in this scene. Whenever he would be in complete awe of the broad knowledge you had about official guidelines and security breaches, of staying undetected and unseen while still gaining as much as possible from every single line of code, he could always throw in his input to make sure the program you were both writing and updating for the glitch community was easy to use and simple enough so it could run smoothly on as many systems as possible. Be it phone, laptops, PC's- you two made it possible.

This program was connecting Glitchers all over the globe- and with yours and Jungkooks knowledge, you made it almost invisible. And even if it was somehow detected; there was no possible way to track down any of it's users.

The fact that you had to hide a simple program from the government made you sigh.

"Okay. Yeah I think that fixed the bug." He says, and looks at your arm- at Kana. "Oh, by the way, Kana?" he asks, and the chime gives him the cue to talk. "I heard you had a bug-fix too recently." He says, and the AI chimes again.

"I did, Player01." The AI answers. "The addition of code to my current program has proven to significantly increase my ability to observe and save more data." The female voice answers, and Jungkook grins. "You are happy, Player01." She states, and he nods.

"I am." He says.

"Why is that?" The AI asks, and Jungkook shrugs.

"I'm just happy you're doing well. Someone has to take care of ace when I'm not close by, yeah?" He states, and you try not to react to it. Jungkook is by now used to your more stoic expression; you're not too emotional and barely let things get under your skin. You've been hurt before, he knows this even if you never told him- he can see it in the way you hide inside the safety of your home, how you're so cold on the outside but still clinging onto him. Sometimes he wishes he could touch you; run his hand over your head to ruffle your hair like in those cheesy movies, hold your hand, or simply give you some reassurance in the form of a gentle hand on your back whenever you struggle.

But he's got his own demons, and they love clinging onto him just as much.

"V95 has connected to voice chat. Would you like to talk to him?" Kana states, ripping him out of his thoughts as he watches you nod.

"JK? Y/N?" A deep voice asks.

"We're here. Heard there was a raid close to you?" Jungkook asks, and he can see you grow a bit more serious at that. "Are you okay?" He adds, and V answers, although quite.. tired?

"I'm good. They got Jimin though." He states, and you sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stand up, frustrated. Jungkook knows you're trying to calm down by pacing. He doesn't mind. "They didn't officially arrest him, took him for 'questioning' though. We know what that's about." He states somberly, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"Jimin is a master manipulator V. He'll get himself out of it, I'm sure." Jungkook tries to reassure, but it doesn't gain him much than a hum from Taehyung on the other end of the line. "What about Sleeper?" He asks, and a chuckle is heard.

"He's been checking the videofeed from inside the past few nights. He said he's send some of the big bites to Ace though?" He says, and Jungkook looks over at your form.

"Yeah I've seen it." You simply say, though Jungkook grows uncomfortable with the way you're suddenly standing there. You're a little hunched, biting the skin on your thumb as you look at the tiles as if they suddenly began to move. He knows himself that things inside the 'rehabilitation centers' weren't all that nice to see- but you rarely ever displayed so much distress over it. "Let's just hope Jimin get's his ass out of this situation. We can't afford to loose him." You say, and V stays silent before he sighs.

"Yeah. I tell sleeper you've seen the stuff. Oh, and our prince charming has asked for a date with Ace. Again." Taehyung chuckles, and you groan- while Jungkook can't help but clench his jaw. Kim Seokjin was a very good asset to the team; with connections reaching deep inside the government and his position as a former lawyer- but he still hated his guts.

You didn't need to waste your time dating. You were totally capable of taking care of yourself, you had even said it personally! And for anything else Jungkook would provide for you. You didn't need anyone else than him.

He was totally not jealous of him.

"Can he not use our underground connections for that circus?" You say. "I don't even go grocery shopping, why would I want to go on a fucking date?" You mumble, sitting down next to Jungkook as you take a spoonful of rice. Jungkook feels a weird sense of satisfaction about the situation.

"Who knows." Taehyung says. "Alright, 10 Minute mark- I'll hear from you two soon. Take care." He says, and you both say your goodbyes before the line goes silent.

Although Jungkook hates physical contact, he likes keeping you close.

His heart is melting like chocolate as he notes the way your hand grips his jacket tightly as the two of you walk through town to get your license renewed- a way of holding onto him, and he somehow wishes it could be his hand. He knows yours would fit so perfectly in his, and yet he can't bring himself to do it.

His body is not cooperating.

He remembers vividly how his fear had developed; with his father and mother both being dramatically overworked and overwhelmed with having a kid at a young age, they had no idea how to make a child behave. Every second touch would bruise, every time he had been held would be force.

And at some point, he started to dislike physical touch completely.

It had just been like his growing interest in freelance climbing- the way he would walk and jump high over the heads of unsuspecting people, away from all judgemental gazes they'd throw his way for behaving the way he did. Only when the wind could hit him freely, only when he couldn't make out faces of anyone down below, only when he was high up- that was when he felt safe. The ground below had nothing of interest for him, no point in going down, as his apartment was located on the top floor of the complex. Jungkook never took the elevator, always the stairs.

He liked being reminded how high he lived.

And yet, there's one thing that pulls him down, brings his feet to the earth below, calls him like a siren song. It's you, hidden away from everyone's sight inside your tiny home, just as troubled and judged as himself.

He'd fallen in love with you the second you told him his name.

It had been a rainy night, his clothes drying on your heater as he was wrapped in two of your blankets; the smell of your fabric softener and something so typically you surrounding him like a mother's hug would a child. It had given him a feeling of comfort he had never quite experienced before, and it had also been the first time he had imagined what it would be like to hug you.

To have you close.

He had explained to you why he had freaked out when you reached for his arm to steady him when he almost fell inside your apartment through your window; had apologized and bowed his head in shame until you had simply shrugged.

"You don't have to justify yourself to anyone, Jungkookie." You had said. Jungkookie. "You're you. And I like you." You had said, not looking at him as you typed in some code to Kana's internal system.

His heart had warmed up at that.

And while you had accepted him, he had accepted you just as much. While at first caught off guard by your quiet and sometimes harsh way of treating him, he had also gotten to know just how gentle and delicately you treated the ones you loved. You were a loyal person, always going out of your way to be helpful, and silently basking in praise any time it was directed at you.

He loved that view. The way your cheeks would grow warm, how your eyes would sparkle; and he loved most of all, that he had been, according to Taehyung who was the second closest to you, the only one to see you smile.

You even laughed with him.

It filled him with pride to know that you were able to let go around him, even if it was just a little. It made him feel like he did something huge. It helped him sleep at night knowing that you were trusting him enough to let down your guard a little.

And it hurt him even worse knowing that he couldn't do the same thing for you.

He was a coward-

and you deserved a hero.

"Ace?" He asked, slipping through your window as he noticed the apartment silent and dark. Nothing greeted him. "..Ace?" He tried again, maybe you were asleep? But your apartment was quiet, empty, nothing spoke of your presence. Dishes were in the sink, a cup of water left untouched on the counter, and something inside of him churned painfully at the way this looked. He checked the kitchen tile, sliding it to the side like he's seen you do it countless of times.

It was dark.

Instead, he was greeted by a post it note. "Underneath the bed. Take care." Was all it read. He stood up, pushing your bed away from the wall noticing how your carpet had been torn a little. And as he lifted the cut flap of carpet, there was an envelope.

Your watch. A small in-ear piece, and your old IT-identification, folded.

A noise outside your hallway made his head snap up as he pushed the bed back into place, making an escape for it as he climbed outside the window, watch safely inside his jacket as he climbed back up on top of a building, before he examined it further, turning it on, after putting the earpiece in.

"Hello, Jungkook." Kana greeted him, and it felt weird to hear the AI say his name like that. "Creator has advised me to answer all questions you might have, and assist you from here on." She said, and Jungkook simply put the watch on, making his way to his own apartment.

"What happened?" He asked, his face serious as he walked.

"At around 6:12 O'clock, creator was taken into further questioning regarding illegal possession and knowledge of classified information and technological equipment. She had shown no resistance and complied with authorities. My observations however showed that she was taken with more force than necessary." Kana explained. Jungkook shook his head. "She had prepared for this instance during the night, approximately twenty-six minutes after you had left."

"She knew?!" He suddenly said, shutting his apartment door violently as he started to pace around, throwing his jacket on the couch. "Why didn't she contact me?"

"Analysis; your body shows signs of-" Kana started, but Jungkook interrupted.

"Shut up. Why didn't she tell me?" He asks again, and Kana seems to hesitate for a moment.

"Considering her close relationship to you, she probably wanted to not get you involved." She stated, and Jungkook sighed, sitting down on his couch as he gripped his hair. He should've stayed. Hell, it wasn't the first time he wanted to stay. He had dreamed of staying over, of fucking living with you for months to no end by now, but he was a coward. And this was his paycheck.

"Kana." He said lowly, and the small tune gave him the cue to talk. "Contact V95. Tell him it's urgent. We got an emergency." He says.

"I can't watch this." He says, jumping up and holding onto his head as to not punch his wall, unable to go through the videofeed of your interrogation room.

There's not much to see, but Jungkook knows that's simply because they haven't had the time to see to you yet. You and him knew best what really happened in these rooms, and he hated knowing that deep down they wouldn't go easy on you simply because you were a young woman. It didn't matter to them.

He'd seen teenagers way younger than you and him getting the rough treatment before- and elderly didn't get spared either.

The government bragged about having everything in order; yet they couldn't even control their own law enforcement it seemed. When he really thought back on his history lessons in school, not much had changed at all.

The world was still in utter chaos.

His palm shuts his laptop harshly- earning a tiny chime from the AI he’s already forgotten shares his home with him now. “I suggest that you practice care in treating your electronics to-“ he groans, successfully shutting it off at that. “Why are you frustrated?” It- she? Asks, and he sits down.

“I don’t know how to help her.” He admits in shame, thinking back to the footage of your hidden camera; the way they had pushed you to the ground, before grabbing you, leading you out of your apartment a few minutes away from him. “I don’t know what I should do.” He says.

There’s a bit of silence, until the AI speaks up again. “Do you have a romantic interest in my creator?” She asks, and his head snaps up at that.

“What the fuck? Why would you ask me this?!” He barks, unsure where to look since he can only hear the voice.

“I have observed both my creator and your behaviors; you seem to have a very deep rooted interest in each others well-being and opinions. This is commonly found in partnerships. I was only asking you to confirm if my assumption is correct.”

He’s silent for a moment, until he speaks again, watching the announcement van pass his window; voices dull and unintelligible though the walls and windows. “It’s no use anyways. Who wants someone they can’t even shake hands with?” He sighs, looking into his lap again. He hates that he’s like this; that even though he very much loves and adores you, there’s no magic moment that makes him forget- even though he craves the contact, he can’t do it. Every time he’s close to you, he knows that he could simply hug you; or let you rest your head on his shoulder, like in romantic movies. He wants to hold your hand, wipe your tears- but his body won’t cooperate. He can’t do it.

Not even with you.

“Creator seems very comfortable with you.” The AI states. “I have been asked to archive all text messages and phone calls of you two recently. When I asked for a reason, she claimed she would need it someday- I was unsure what she meant.” Jungkook furrows his brow, raising his head again. “Sometimes, when creator is deeply upset, she has the habit of playing some of the recordings of you singing, or reminding her to take care. My research has shown that it slows down her heartbeat to a more normal level and also improves her insomnia.” Jungkooks eyes widen at that.

Does that mean.. that you like him back?

"Kana, fuck- cut the feed." He says, agitated.

"Are you sure?" She asks, and he sighs, before yelling his frustration out, sitting down to take a deep breath. He slowly shook his head no. He couldn't let all your hard work go to waste like this.

He couldn't stay a coward.

"Jungkook, it appears to be that the creator is being let go." Kana suddenly chimes up, and Jungkook rushes to his pc setup to see for himself. And she's right- your arm is being held tightly, and something is being said to you, but your hands are no longer chained to the chair- you're free.

What just happened?

Jungkook sometimes really hates himself for being the way he is.

There's no sugarcoating it that you need comfort now more than ever, even though you don't openly show it to him. He can see it in the way you're still biting your nails, he can see it in your eyes which never stay on one point for too long. And he can definitely see it in the bruises on your upper arm, and the cut on your lower lip where you had bitten in anger and frustration. He wants to comfort you, he knows you'd let him- and yet he can't move any closer than where he is right now; only the length of his palm of space between you two. And yet it's like his joints are locked into place. He can't touch you.

What if he hurts you?

And it dawns on him right then and there while he watches you drink your can of overly sweet soda while typing your code like second nature, that he's not scared of you hurting him. He's scared of doing to you, what's been done to him. Because deep down he is aware that his parents never had bad intentions, never hated him or wanted him to suffer; they were simply unsure and not at all confident in how to really care for a child. They had been caught off guard and gotten overwhelmed by the sudden shift in their situation that they never truly knew what to do. And nowadays he felt like he was simply heading down the same road.

He was starting to feel like he was becoming just like them.

"Hm?" You ask him, ripping him out of his thoughts as he looks at you, your eyes wide and worried as you put down your almost empty can of soda. "What is it?" You ask him, and he wants to scream. He wants to throw a fit like a child at the way you seem to worry for him every time you should worry for yourself. He's a coward, he's useless, he's everything you don't need nor deserve in his eyes, and yet you always look at him like he's the main character of your favorite movie.

If he was, he was sure he'd be merely a sidekick- because you deserved to be the focus of every story told in his eyes. And if you weren't included in the tale, he knew he didn't want to ever know about it.

He swallows, before he manages to make his hand move, finger pointing at your arm where a green-ish bruise already formed. "Does it hurt?" He asks, and he's not even sure if he's asking you about the bruise, of if he's asking something else. He doesn't know what he's saying, doesn't even know if he's asking you or himself.

"No." You answer, and he looks at you, searching for any hint of a lie in your eyes. But he only sees that slight smile, lips turned a little, almost unnoticeable. But its there, he can see it, and he wants to print it into his mind to never forget it. You were so observant, knew him so well, that he was almost certain you knew of his inner fight and what he really meant with his blurted out question. "Are you okay?" You ask him, and he swallows again, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his body grows rigid like an unoiled machine, only moving with as much force as he can manage to come up with. His breathing is heavy as his eyes can't leave the spot on your arm, and your watch him with wide eyes as his shaking hand slowly reaches out.

He doesn't know what he expects to really happen.

Maybe like those electric shocks you get when someone had rubbed their socks on a carpet before touching someone else. Maybe he had expected to recoil instantly. Maybe he had expected nothing- but he was suddenly in a rush the moment his fingertip touched your warm skin, delicate, soft, everything his rough hands weren't.

And you were still as prey in front of a wolf.

But the wolf in this scenario was holding his breath while his tears finally fell. He wants to speak, but he can't, he doesn't know how to ask for something when he doesn't even know if he wants it.

But suddenly he moves again, his palm now resting fully against your upper arm, shaking, as it moves over the length of it, softly, as he imprints the way your soft skin feels. "Jungkook.." You whisper out, and he suddenly snaps, leans forward, his legs on either side of your body as he snakes his arms around you from behind, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel him shake as he holds you, his cheek resting against your back and you don't care about his tears staining your shirt as he suddenly cries openly and possibly for the first time since he was a mere child.

He's unsure, overwhelmed, because you're so warm, you smell so nice, you're so soft, and he can't let go, doesn't want to let go. He whines out as you turn a bit as he thinks you're moving away but you're simply placing your legs over his as you sit in his lap, hugging him back as you make sure to give him a gentle squeeze.

He calms down after a long while of simply existing. Of breathing you in, of feeling you. "You're right." He whispers into your neck, and you can't help but shiver, leaning into his hug.

"It doesn't hurt at all."

"You know, I get why you come up here." You comment, as Jungkook makes sure to hold your hand tightly in his, your feet dangling off the edge of the building you're sitting on top of. "It's nice." You say.

He's not listening that well though.

All he can really do is watch your face, illuminated by the neon lights of the city, hair swaying in the wind as you look down below. He doesn't quite know what you two really are, doesn't know how long it will take him to really come out of his shell and give you the love you deserve, but he's trying. He's fighting, he's left his cowardly self behind.

He want's to change.

And not just for you alone, because while he hates seeing you hurt, he knows what you two are doing- what all of you are doing- is for the greater good.

Jungkook hates your ideas sometimes.

Simply because he knows they will work, but also end up with you getting into danger at the end of it. And just like now, all he can do really is hope that you make it out as he keeps a watchful eye on your movements from above, giving you directions via Kana as you sometimes trip and stumble a little.

You're not a very active person; running wasn't really your thing.

Fuck, you were basically a hermit, the most you walked around was from your bedroom into the kitchen!

But then again, sacrifices had to be made somewhere. And Jungkook really admired you; because every time he thought that you had reached your limit, you would face it head first and break through it.

"Ace, try and somehow get to higher ground. They're caging you in from all sides." He urgently tells you as he watches police chase you down the roads, pushing citizens aside to not loose sight of you.

The plan had been simple. Gain all the attention so Taehyung could infect one of the police station's servers with a new worm, giving you all a better and easier access to any data and communication of the area. Jungkook couldn't play the bate well enough; and you had been on their radar already, making you the best option to gain their interest quickly enough.

Although Jungkook hated that part.

"Come on, ah fuck it." He grits out, jumping down to grab a ladder, making his way to a nearby area he could pull you up. There was no way you could reach any of the fire ladders yourself, and by now, things were getting too hot for him to risk anything. "Here!" He barks out, not thinking twice about grabbing your hand and helping you upwards, trying not to worry too much about your heavy breathing. And then there's it.

A pop, loud, followed by another, and another, and another. You're suddenly falling, scraping your knees on the ground below as he can't catch you, too startled by the fact that they had actually decided to shoot to react quick enough. "Fuck!" He says, eyes wide and pupils blown as he looks at you.

"Jungkook, why the fuck aren't you running?!" You yell at him, a scratch on the top of your left cheek as you push his leg away from you- the only thing you can reach. "Go!" You bark again, and he growls out something, before he manages to pull you onto his back, adrenaline not letting his brain process what he's doing.

He can't just leave you.

"Taehyung, get out, Ace has been shot. Whatever was uploaded has to be enough." He says via the in-ear piece, doesn't wait for a response. He still gets it.

"Fuck, what?! Okay okay, I'm out" He says, and Jungkook can only catch a glimpse of the older man leaving the building via the backside entrance. He's only concerned with getting you somewhere safe.

"Urgh." You groan, slowly sitting up on Jungkooks couch. "I mean, I know paintball hurts, but rubber bullets? Jesus.." You complain, while Jungkook looks at you with a dark expression. "What?" You ask him, and he huffs.

"You sound like you haven't almost been killed yesterday." He grimly says, and you shrug. "Stop. I'm serious." He tells you, and you let yourself fall back down onto his couch.

"Whatever. At least we killed their communication." You say, closing your eyes. "Must've at least pissed them off." You say.

"Kana." Jungkook suddenly says, waiting for the familiar sound to tell him she's active. "Shut down for now." He says, and you sit up, hissing instantly at the sudden movement.

"Hey- ah fuck!" You say, as you watch on your bracelet how Kana complies; shutting down. "Why would you do that?" You say in an offended matter, before you grow quiet, watching him go onto his knees in front of you, as he lets his head rest on top of your lap.

"I just want.. you to myself. Just.." He mumbles, and you slowly bring your hand to his hair. "Just for a moment." He says, and you sigh. Jungkook had been under a lot of stress recently, you no doubt being the main cause of most of it recently. So you simply let him be, as he closed his eyes. "Y/N?" He asks suddenly, and you answer him. "I love you." He says, and your body stops moving.

What?

"It's okay if you don't." He says, not moving from his spot, and neither opening his eyes. "I mean it. I only want you to know." He explains further. "Because I.. couldn't fucking live with myself if something happened to you, and I've never told you." He admits, and you can't help but stare at him. Jungkook looked down on himself so much that it was sometimes frustrating to see; simply because you saw him as such an amazing human being with countless talents and beautiful flaws.

You knew you couldn't muster up the strength to actually answer him; not so spontaneously. You weren't that expressive, you couldn't communicate as freely and colorful as he could. All your words seemed black and white to you, mixing into grey and mundane sentences while his words seemed to bloom into the most amazing paintings. He had a way of charming those around him- and he didn't even know.

You slowly leaned down instead, moving his hair to the side as you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his cheek, close to his eye.

You hoped he would somehow understand you.

And as he moved again, looking at you with eyes that sparkled brighter than any city's skyline ever could, you knew he did.

He'd always understand you, no matter how you communicated with him.

You didn't need words to understand each other.

The shy kiss you two shared, bathed in the purple glow of the neon lights outside his window, spoke enough.

"You should try and sleep." Jungkook tells you, taking away your can of soda as you whine at him. "No buts. Come on, I'll finish this for you." He says, and you let him take over the keyboard of your laptop. It's something you really only let him get away with- anyone else would've probably lost a finger or two trying to touch your work.

You don't trust anyone but him at this point.

"I know that Kana snitched." You comment, as you lean your back against his shoulder. He chuckles. "Can't believe my own creation goes behind my back like that." You mumble, and Jungkook has a light tune to his voice as he speaks.

"Well, it's a good thing though." He tells you. "I worry about you." He says.

"Ugh come on, you know that's not the part I meant." You laugh, and he grins.

"Oh, you mean the part where you listen to my crappy ass singing to help you sleep?" He tells you with a teasing undertone. "No wonder you got insomnia trying to find rest to that." He chuckles, and you playfully hit his thigh.

"Shut up, your voice is nice." You say, and he's glad your eyes are closed, and you can't see him blush.

Somehow, moments like these re-energized him again. Because it proved to him that there was still a piece of that innocent and untainted you inside that thick shell you had put up to protect yourself. And considering that you let him see you like that made his pride grow taller than any of the skyscrapers of his city.

Maybe one day the two of you will have a future together that won't be so difficult and unfair like your current one was. Maybe one day, you both will have changed enough to teach the next generation about what you've overcome.

But then again; living in the moment seemed to fit a lot better in his eyes, as he watched you sleep soundly against his shoulder.

Yeah, this moment was more than enough for now.

The world won't change over night- you both know that. All of you know that. But small things were starting to make a difference here and there; for example, the letter you held towards Jungkook as his eyes widened.

"..and we have officially decided that we no longer want to participate in the case against the defendant. The result of this agreement is that all charges against Y/N L/N have been dismissed and are no longer being investigated." He reads out loud, almost whispering as if saying it too loud could make it a lie. "They let you go?" He asks, and you nod, the small bandaid on your cheek making you look even cuter in his eyes as you shrug.

"Jimin had reached out too. They've let him go home as well." You say. and Jungkook huffs out in disbelief.

After infecting the police station with the worm you had all worked on, you had scared the entire country enough to take a step back from the overall aggressive tone. It wasn't much- but it meant that they knew you were there. You existed, and you were not bowing down.

You were still untamed.

Jungkook smiled brightly as he put the letter down to the side, reaching out to you to pull you onto his lap. He simply holds you for a moment, his lips kissing the skin of your shoulder as if in a trance. "I love you." He tells you, and you smile, squeezing him a bit in your arms. "I really do." He assures you, and you nod.

You don't answer him, and he doesn't seem to mind as he leans back from you, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grins, hands holding your face so delicately as he places a kiss onto your lips, making you close your eyes as he breaks away from you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

He's still not letting anyone very physically close other than you; he's still scared of going out and around like everyone else. You're still rather hiding inside his apartment- both of your apartment now- and you still have trouble sleeping.

But Jungkook keeps the nightmares away.

And you make him brave in exchange.

It's really weird to hear the sound of a radio nowadays.

Things are still far from normal- but recently, citizens had been given radios to listen to public broadcast again. It only played crappy music with some rare good tracks here and there, but it was better than nothing.

Jungkook couldn't help but think that your breathless voice was far more entertaining than any music station he can remember from his youth.

While he hates touching other people, even friends and family, he can't help but feel a rush whenever he touches you.

His hands can't stop on one specific spot, can't seem to stay still even for a moment as his lips nip and suck at the flesh of your neck and shoulder, marking what's his, visualizing that you really belong to him. He bears the same mark on his collarbone from last night, and he should have been satisfied, but even an early morning couldn't keep him away from you.

The rain hit the window harshly, but he didn't notice at all. All his eyes could see was your form underneath him, skin glowing as he moves above you, euphoria filling his veins as he can't look away from where you're connected, where his cock disappears inside of you over and over and over again.

"I love you." He breathes out as he comes undone, holding you close, resting his head against your shoulder, as you hold onto his arms, a smile, a genuine and big smile thrown his way as he can't help but smile along.

"I love you too, Jungkook." You say, and he chuckles.

The radio in the background still playing, as you lay in each others' arms.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please stop reposting my content on AO3 thinking I won't find it. I'm literally everywhere you clowns.

To everyone else: Thank you for reading this mess- I really apologize for the messy storyline, but I just wanted to put this out before the entire thing escaped me again and I would end up struggling to find my way back into it (cough cough flashback to mean lmao). I promise to somewhat post more regularly. Thank you for your kind words and for sticking with me!

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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wolveria · 3 years

Text

Inside Your Wires - Ch 6

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: Connor gets his new assignment. He's not thrilled.

AO3

Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet

Chapter 5 art by @semains (18+ only)

November 6th, 2038

Saturday 09:56AM

There was a time when Connor didn’t have to come in on Saturdays. He remembered the days when mandatory overtime was few and far between.

Not anymore. 2038 seemed to be the year shit just kept happening, and now that he thought about it, quite a few of it seemed to be because of androids. Ones gone missing. Disobeying orders. And now, homicidal.

Connor rubbed the bridge of his nose after putting his car into park, regretting how enthusiastically he’d hit the bottle last night. It wasn’t too bad this time, just an annoying throbbing behind his eyes, but it made it more difficult to see and he’d had to squint through his windshield.

Whatever. The reason for his shame-drinking was no longer relevant. Connor just had to survive until lunchtime, and if he were lucky, Hank would let him go early. He tried not to itch at the butterfly bandages on his cheek, applied himself after he’d woken up in a haze with blood on his pillow having completely forgotten the injury existed.

Connor kept his head down as he walked through the lobby of the station and through the security checkpoint to the bullpen proper. He tried not to be completely antisocial, however, and sent weak smiles at the coworkers who bothered to notice he was there.

Helen, Alexander, and Rupert all acknowledged him with various degrees of warmth, some colder than others, and all pretty much deserved. Ralph gave Connor a nervous smile from his chair, though it quickly faded as his eyes flickered to something across the room.

Frowning, he followed Ralph’s eye line across the bullpen and scowled when he spotted Colin leaning casually against Connor’s desk, talking to… someone. He couldn’t see who, Colin’s figure blocking them from view.

Against his better judgement, Connor drew closer, pressure building at the back of his neck, an uneasy feeling of dread that increased with each step.

“Con’s just gonna love this. But seriously, if he bitches about it too much, or gives you a hard time, you can always partner up with me. I won’t mind one bit, promise.”

Connor would have rolled his eyes at his brother’s typical cocksure demeanor, but instead, he went stock still at the familiar voice that answered.

“While the offer is appreciated, Lieutenant, my instructions stipulate that I must assist Detective Anderson with his new, specialized caseload. I’m sure you can understand that CyberLife only wishes to cooperate with the DPD and does not want to interfere with police procedure—“

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The YN800 model blinked and turned its head to meet Connor’s eye, its little blue light blinking for a moment before solidifying again.

It was sitting in Connor’s chair.

“It’s good to see you again, Detective,” it answered, chipper as ever as a fake smile graced its features.

Connor looked the prototype over, his nose crinkling at its appearance. The suit must have been brand new, there were no stains or bullet holes, and her—its hair was once again pinned upwards into a perfect knot.

He felt his insides churn at the near slip, at thinking for even a split second that this thing was a person. Shoving down the crude thoughts of the night before, Connor gave the order through gritted teeth.

“Get. Up.”

The prototype did as it was told, for once. It rose out of his chair, not even having the decency to look chagrined as it straightened its jacket of nonexistent wrinkles.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I tried to call your phone and left you a message. It was not my intention to surprise you—“

“Oh, no, it’s never your intention to do anything, is it?” Connor snarled back. His headache was in full force now, and he swore he could see the bright lights of the station brighten in time with his heartbeat.

“Aw, c’mon!” Colin slapped him on the shoulder. “Be nice to the temp.”

“Temp?” Connor answered, voice pulled as taut as a wire.

“Yeah, you know. The temporary assistant. The new girl. The—“

He shoved Colin’s hand off his shoulder, leveling a glare at both of them. Colin merely shot him a shit-eating grin while the YN800 stood there, hands clasped behind its back at parade rest, polite and perfect as ever.

“Connor!”

All three of them turned toward the voice booming across the room.

“Get in here!”

Connor glared at the android, as if Hank’s shouting were its fault, which was probably the case.

He turned without a word and stalked to the captain’s office, shoulders hunched as his heart raced and his hands shook at his sides. He let the glass door fall shut behind him, but when he didn’t hear the whoosh of it close, he glanced over his shoulder to see the YN800 had followed him inside.

Great.

Connor stood in front of the desk with his arms crossed.

Hank sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at the chairs in front of his desk. Connor remained standing.

The older man glared, answering Connor’s attitude with a look and a heavy sigh.

“Bet you’re wondering what that’s about.” Hank jerked his chin over Connor’s shoulder. The prototype had taken a spot at the back of the office, observing politely with its hands clasped in front of its hips.

“Yeah, I am.” Connor was a little too cranky this morning to try a more diplomatic approach. “What the hell is it doing here?”

“I’ll get to that. First on the docket, I got a shit ton of android-related cases filling up our database every day and I’m at wit’s end.” Hank took a deep breath, bracing himself as he met Connor’s eye. “Which is why I’m assigning all of these cases to you.”

“You’re what?”

Connor stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You think that case last night was a one-off? We’ve got more android-related crimes rolling in, including assaults and homicides just as bad as the Ortiz case, and right now, you’re the one with the most experience.” Hank leaned his elbows on his desk as he leveled a formidable glare his way. “Is that going to be a problem, Connor?”

“Yeah, it is a problem, Hank! Why the hell do I have to do this? What about Colin? He was with me at the crime scene and was there for the interrogation!” Connor shoved a finger at the glass wall to prove his point.

Hank’s jaw tightened. Connor had seen that behavior enough times to recognize how he was pushing his luck.

“CyberLife asked for you specifically.”

“What?” Connor blinked, dumbfounded once again, racking his brain but coming up empty. “Why?”

“The hell if I know!” Hank barked back, rising to his feet as he pointed a finger at Connor, “and frankly, I don’t give a damn. Colin’s got enough on his plate—“

“—and I don’t?” Connor interrupted, scowling. Hank sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, and Connor almost felt guilty for his outburst.

Almost.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you implied.” He tried not to sound like a hurt child, but, well, that’s exactly what he sounded like.

“For fuck’s sake, Connor! There are more people that are gonna start dying from this!”

“Yeah, I know, but—“

Hank lifted his hand, palm forward, effectively shutting Connor up.

“You saw what one of those deviants was capable of last night, and that was with three of you and another android trying to get it under control! You think the average person stands a chance against one of these fucks? That a little ol’ grandma can defend herself against the murderous robot gardener coming at her with a pair of shears? What the hell happens when a nanny bot decides to take a human kid for itself? Oh, wait, that’s already happened, and you would know that if you checked the goddamn case files I sent you!”

Connor was silent as Hank deflated. The older man leaned back against his desk as he looked through his glass wall out over the bullpen. His voice was rough but much quieter for the next round.

“We’re totally in the dark, Connor. We don’t know how bad this is gonna get and how many androids we’re dealing with. This has the potential to turn into a fucking nightmare with Detroit as ground zero.” Hank’s gaze drifted over Connor’s shoulder to the elephant, or the machine, in the room. “CyberLife was gracious enough to send us a state-of-the-art prototype until this issue is contained. It’s gonna be your partner until such a time that these androids are no longer a threat, and then you’re free to go back to being a misanthropic son-of-a-bitch as much as you like.”

Connor was thoroughly shamed by the end of Hank’s speech, that old familiar feeling of disappointment making his gut roil with nausea, but his anger hadn’t entirely flagged. He clenched his hands tightly to his thighs, fingers desperate for either his coin or his cigarettes.

Connor hadn’t felt the need for one in months. This was bad.

“Hank,” he tried again, his voice soft and pleading in that way he knew Hank couldn’t ignore. “I’m not saying this just to be a pain in your ass. I understand the stakes, but I genuinely believe I’m not qualified for these types of cases. I’m not a CyberLife technician, or an AI specialist, or a computer engineer. I’ve never even owned an android.”

That last one was technically true but only in the barest sense, and Hank gave him a knowing look. It wasn’t without sympathy, and his own answer was given with more kindness than he probably deserved.

“I know, Connor. I also know you’re the sharpest pair of eyes on the force, not to mention the quickest brain and the best instinct. You see shit other people don’t, even Colin, and you’ve got this creepy knack for taking one look at a person and knowing what makes ‘em tick. I’d say you’re almost like an android yourself, but I know how much that’d piss you off.”

Connor gave him another narrow-eyed scowl, and Hank immediately put up his hands as a sign of surrender even as a smirk played on his lips.

“My point is, I need you on this, son. I know it’s not ideal, hell, it downright sucks, but I know you can do this. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

And there it was. As effective as Connor’s pleading expressions could be, they were nothing in comparison to his need for Hank’s praise. The old geezer knew it, too.

And throwing a “son” into the mix was a goddamn dirty move, but Connor couldn’t even muster up annoyance. He just sighed, gave Hank the smallest hint of a smile, and said, “All right. But only until these cases are solved. Once the deviancy issue is addressed, the prototype is going back to CyberLife and you never give me an android case again.”

“I’ll pay for the postage to ship it back myself,” Hank said, smile wide and pleased as he patted Connor on the shoulder before returning to his desk. “And I want daily reports on the progress you and your new partner are making. Gotta make sure CyberLife’s best is pulling its weight.”

“I can assure you, Captain Anderson, I am worth every penny. And considering it took a small fortune to build me, I—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank interrupted the prototype, using that catchphrase that Connor and all of his brothers had picked up years ago. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

The android blinked almost comically before giving a slow nod. It then turned to face Connor, straightening its back at attention, and he rolled his eyes. He was still being handed the shit end of the stick, but he couldn’t deny that the cases were piling up and Hank really did need the extra help.

But why, out of all the androids in the world, did it have to be one like that.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Connor turned and left Hank’s office, not waiting to see if the android would follow, knowing with a sinking feeling, it would.

Next Chapter

#connor x reader #human!connor x reader #human!connor x android!reader #connor x android!reader #inside your wires #my fanfiction #my writing

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

Text

talking to my mum last night and getting fucked up about the degree of trauma my grandparents' generation faced and how. unwilling and ill-equipped the care system is for the obvious fact that there's a huge incidence of PTSD and complex lifelong mental health issues in those generations

grannie was 17 when she became a nurse and she was working immediately in London at the height of the Blitz. her first day she saw blown apart children and had to comfort their parents. she was almost hit by a rocket cycling home.

grandpa spent the whole war in labour camps before being trapped behind the Iron Curtain in the ruins of Dresden, almost dead from starvation from the camp, for another 3 years before making it back to Blackpool to find out his parents had died in his absence.

granny got radiation sickness at 13 from being put under an X-ray with no protection and forgotten about for hours; she lost all her hair and developed chronic pain and health problems. after years of severe physical, emotional and sexual abuse from her family and the men around her, she got engaged to an American pilot who was shot down and killed in the last month of the war. her former boyfriend came back a dissociative shell of his pre-war self and she ended up trying to raise three small children on her own, with her family at the other end of the country and her husband often having violent flashbacks and outbursts of rage. she was suicidal and had violent psychotic breaks and got institutionalised and medicated on and off her entire adult life.

like. it isn't just the war. people born in the early-mid 20th century, especially women, have been subject to so much sexual trauma, domestic and social violence, bigotry, and grief on grief on grief.

with my granny, it's entirely understandable that she was 'mad'. when I knew her, she was on heavy daily dosage of lithium - she stopped because it was destroying her gut after 30 years and she became violently aggressive, vindictive, scared, psychotic, paranoid, frequently delusional and extremely abusive. She was terrified of doctors because of her repeated experiences with medical abuse, she was furious with everyone around her, she coldly hated her husband and seemed actively happy when he died, and the thing is all of that makes perfect sense because she was profoundly and repeatedly traumatised for at least the first 50-60 years of her life.

but the thing that worries and answers me is that the elder care system and the mental health system are completely unwilling to engage with the fact that many many many old people have severe pre-existing mental health conditions. after all, how many of us have PTSD or psychotic episodes or bipolar or BPD or special care needs related to autism or OCD or ADHD or whatever? those don't just Cease To Exist after a certain age. and our parents and our grandparents grew up in times with much less support for mental health and much less awareness of trauma. granny's early traumas were familial but she was institutionalised repeatedly and treated appallingly throughout her life and that's in itself traumatic.

when granny was 82 and she stopped taking her lithium, she was frail, ill and a danger to herself and others.

they put her on a dementia ward when she was sectioned because she was Old, and Old Mad People Are Demented. but she didn't have dementia! she had chronic PTSD and paranoid delusions but she knew who, where and when she was and she was perfectly sharp, she just wasn't coping. when we went to visit her she'd say furiously 'they think I'm like the other people in here but I'm not, I'm not losing my marbles, I've always been this way'

none of us got any support looking after her while she was in hospital or after she left the inpatient ward - nobody checked in on grandpa while she was in hospital or on weekend release, and after she was released Dad looked after her single-handed while trying to deal with his dad's death. (she may have murdered grandpa while on weekend release, or he may have died of heart failure - either way when she went off the rails after 20 years stable, he gave up on life and I me and my sibling (for the record we were 10 when she left hospital) listening to her trying to continue unpicking her past trauma was I think the most therapy she got after she left.

she couldn't go into a regular elder care home because she was too unstable, she needed specialist mental health care and she sometimes needed to be constrained for her own safety and that of other people. residential mental health care facilities weren't equipped to deal with her needs as a woman in her 80s. she couldn't go into dementia care, which is about the only residential care available for old people with serious mental health needs, because she didn't have dementia and it would have been utterly inappropriate and harmful for her and the other residents. she lived to 93 and for the last 11 years of her life it was up to Dad and us to look after her in her home because there was simply nowhere else for her to go.

and what really fucks me up is that she wasn't past help. a lot of people thought she was but when she left hospital she was trying really hard to continue therapy on her own without a therapist, she drew and wrote about her life and memories and she used to sit opposite me and open up in a way I now utterly recognise as trauma therapy, she would try to find ways to talk about what had hurt her and state into the middle distance for tens of minutes trying to get it together enough to continue. she wanted to do the work. but the only people there for her were her son who was shellshocked from losing his dad and traumatised from effectively losing his mum again and who was spending all his energy just trying to get through work and home and get her physical needs met, and a couple of preteen children who had the will but not the capacity to help. we were barely holding ourselves together (mum drove granny places but mostly her capacity was being spent being about the only support Dad or us could get) and we just couldn't meet the work of a trained therapist. and eventually she gave up on getting better and got angrier and more bitter and more abusive to everyone. but she wanted to feel better. she wanted to deal with her shit. but there was no support.

and there must be thousands of people like her. older people with lifelong trauma and mental health issues who are too mentally ill for elder support and too old for mental health support. and the MH system doesn't think they're worth the resource cost because after all they're old, they'll die soon. but where are they meant to go? and how much harm does unsupported home care do to the person in need of care and to the people carrying for them? it just multiplies trauma down the generations. you can't just expect mental illness to only affect the young when the old have been just as traumatised and you can't treat them as separate issues when old people need carers who are qualified to deal with both their age and their mental health issues.

like yes many people develop late life mental health issues like Alzheimers and dementia, just as many people become disabled for the first time by age. but a lot of people are disabled or mentally ill for decades before they reach anything approaching elderly, and those things don't suddenly go away and don't have the same support needs as late-life issues.

idk. I'm very angry. if there was recognition of the need to support older people with lifelong trauma then my grandpa wouldn't have died hopeless and unsupported, my granny might have got her life back and got some healing after 80 years of living in fear, my dad wouldn't have had his own mental breakdown and slide into paranoia and conspiracy theory, and me and my siblings wouldn't have lost our whole adolescence trying to shore up two badly neglected adults' catastrophic mental health while under constant fire.

literally a ten minute weekly phone call with grandpa while granny was in hospital and weekly follow-up talk therapy for her after she was discharged could have made so much difference but nobody fucking cared. because she was Old. she was in the hospital because she was a danger to the people around her and they discharged her for the weekend as a trial run and her husband died suddenly while she was in the house and she seemed totally unbothered and they still. let her out for good two weeks later with no followup care or therapeutic follow-up and no support or advice for Dad on looking after her. they started talk therapy in hospital and then dropped her abruptly and left her raw and cracked open without any way to put herself back together. and she isn't unique it's just. Careless. and so destructive.

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marvelslut16 · 3 years

Text

Almost lost him

Pairing: James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes x Stark!reader

Synopsis: Tony’s little sister had always had feelings for one James R. Rhodes. She’s kept it a secret for years, but will everything come out after he is injured during the fight against Cap?

word count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Brief cannon violence. Angst. Mentions paralysis. Swearing. Age gap. Also I have a specific age for the character mentioned.

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIP’s for over a year because I loved it so much and I didn’t want to end it poorly lmao. I know no ones gonna read it since he isn’t a popular character, but oh well. I love this fic and I love Rhodey so that’s all that matters.

Tony and (Y/N) Stark have saved the world from terrorists once again.

“Can you believe this title?” you laugh showing Rhodey the article on your phone.

“I was there too,” he says gruffly.

“You just aren’t special enough,” you tease, sticking your tongue out like you’re five and not thirty-six.

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to be a Stark,” Tony, your annoying but lovable older brother, enters the compound’s kitchen.

Tony took you under his wing and raised you since your parents died. It was a lot for a twenty-one year old to handle, no one he knew had to take care of an eleven year old. Especially one with newly discovered powers. They weren’t much, but when emotions would get overwhelming you would have white colored beams come from your hands. This later helped Tony come up with the idea for the repulsors on his Iron Man suit, which you helped him build.

As the years passed, you got a better hold on your new found powers. The more you and Tony dug into your parents past, you started to think that your dad had either given you something when you were a baby or your mom was given something while pregnant to make you like this. Your Dad always called you special, but you never thought you were this special.

“Any progress with Steve?” you ask hopefully. You know how much Tony values his friendship with Cap, he just won’t admit it. Especially because he’s hurt.

“No,” he grunts, but tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care. You and Rhodey give each other unamused looks, clearly not believing the bullshit Tony is trying to feed you.

“I think you should try to reach out to him again, you clearly miss him Tony,” you frown at the dark haired man in front of you.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Rhodey speaks up from behind you. He’s closer than you remember, and you shiver as you feel the little licks of his breath on your neck as he speaks.

“You love birds can shut up now,” Tony rolls his eyes, he leaves the kitchen without anything.

Heat immediately rushes to your face and you can’t look Rhodey in the eye as you stutter out an apology for Tony’s actions. You quickly leave the kitchen before he can respond, wanting to put distance between your blushing self and the man you had been in love with for years.

You had hoped that the conversation in the kitchen would have convinced Tony to reach out and make amends with Steve and half of the Avengers. But things only continued to escalate, where it seemed a battle between friends was unavoidable. So that's how you ended up in Germany, with your newest recruit Spider-Man, facing off against the people you cared most about in this world.

“Rhodey!” you scream as you watch him plummet to the Earth. Time seems to slow to a near standstill and all you can do is watch, too far away from him to be able to help somehow. Your knees buckle and you hit the ground at the same time his body does. There's a scream that’s so loud it rattles the windows of the airport hanger, a scream you weren’t even aware left your own lips.

Vision tries to approach you, but you let out a sound that's between a sob and a scream as he gets closer. You’re angry, and scared, you can feel a rush of something in your veins. You ball your hands in fists, bringing them to your chest as you curl into yourself.

The sound of metal crunching together pulls you from your rocking back and forth on your knees. You see a white glow, one that you're extremely familiar with, dissipating from around two shipping containers, now crushed together where vision was hovering. If he had stayed solid, he would have been crushed. You’re shaking even more as you stare down at your hands, you had never been able to move objects before. You could have hurt somebody. You can’t dwell on it too long because Peter runs to your side, telling you that Rhodey had a heartbeat and help was on the way.

It had felt like hours since Tony, Peter, and you had landed back down in the states. Dr. Cho was working with a spine specialist and a neurosurgeon to figure out the extent of the damage. After a while, they had updated you three, telling you that Rhodey broke his spine and they were taking him into surgery. Tony had left to go fiddle with one of his suits, his coping mechanism. He left the kid with you because he didn’t want you alone.

“How did you two meet?” Peter breaks the silence.

“Hmm?” you look away from the painting in front of you for the first time since you sat in the waiting room chair, to look at the boy.

“Mr. Rhodes, how did you two meet?” he clarifies.

“That’s a long story,” your eyes glaze over as memories start to come flooding back.

“I have time,” Peter gives you a small smile, you can really see what Tony see’s in the kid. The kindness that his Aunt May has taught him is abundantly clear, you know he’s only asking for your benefit.

“He met Tony when they went to MIT together, he somehow found a way to put up with my brother's antics. I didn’t meet him until two years after Tony graduated, so I was eleven,” you let out a little laugh as you realize just how long the older man has been in your life, and in your heart. “He came to my parents funeral for support for Tony, but he became my support system. Everyone seemed to ignore me and go straight for the golden boy, but Tony became too overwhelmed quickly. He introduced me to Rhodey who was the first one, besides Tony of course, to ask me how I was. He ended up spending the entire wake and funeral with me, giving me support and effectively distracting me from my pain.”

You look over at the younger boy, who seems to be staring at you with fascination. He sees the pain on your face when you stop talking, reaching over he grabs your hand loosely. Testing the waters to see if you’ll pull away from affection like Tony has with him. You give him a thankful smile and hold his hand before continuing your story.

“He joined the military not long after that. At first I would send him care packages and letters so he didn’t feel alone when he was deployed. One day when I was writing a letter one of Tony’s flings came into the kitchen and called me a pathetic child because I was crushing on Tony’s friend after I explained what I was doing. He never got that letter, or any after that. We didn’t really talk much after that, if he came to visit Tony I’d be pleasant before locking myself in my room. I guess I was embarrassed over my school girl crush. Years passed, lots of years, before Tony went missing, James was the one that told me what happened. And in those following months he would rarely leave my side, he wanted to make sure I was okay. We were finally both adults, and we gained a real friendship.”

“That sounds like more than a friendship,” Peter sends you an innocent look. You furrow your eyebrows at him in response, Rhodey definitely doesn’t like you back. “I’m just saying, if Liz was like that with me I would be ecstatic that she liked me back.”

“He sees me as a little sister, Peter,” your heart breaking a little more knowing that you’ll never be able to be with the man you’ve loved for years. Before Peter can refute you, Rhodey’s Neurosurgeon walks into the waiting room- some guy named Dr. Strange.

“How is he?” you jump out of your seat, Peter quickly following suit, his hand falling from yours at the movement.

“He’s out of surgery Miss. Stark,” his voice coming out as cocky and full of himself, like he’s overly proud that he did this surgery. “But the recovery will be the difficult part.”

“What happened? What’s still wrong? And when can I see him?” you’re shooting out questions faster than the surgeon can answer.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you Miss. Stark, and you can’t see him until he’s out of the ICU,” the smug look is still on the surgeon's face, making you grow angrier with each word that leaves his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Peter looks between you and the surgeon with wide curious eyes.

“You aren’t family,” he states matter-of-factly. “Therefore I can’t tell you and you can’t see him.”

Your eye twitches in anger as your body starts to warm, your powers start to react to the strong emotion. You take a deep calming breath, keeping you from accidentally lashing out at the surgeon.

“I suggest you rethink that answer,” you say deathly calm, Peter stares at you in awe as you talk back to the man. “And consider who paid for all of the new state-of-the-art Stark technology and equipment you have in this hospital. Things I’m sure that you used in that surgery, that I donated to this hospital through the outreach program that I created. Technology created by both me and my brother.”

“Is there a problem here?” a man’s voice comes from behind you, he sounds irritated that someone’s making a scene. You turn around to face the man, who is wearing a badge that says medical director on it. Perfect. His eyes widen as soon as he recognizes who you are.

“Actually there is,” you frown. “My colleague, my friend. My favorite person after my brother really, he just had a pretty big surgery, but your surgeon here won’t tell me any details or let me go see him. So yes, we have a huge problem.”

“I’m so sorry Miss. Stark,” he exclaims. “Why don’t we go update you in private.”

“Did I sound like a bitch?” you frown, whispering to Peter as the two of you follow the MD and the surgeon. He nods a little with a smirk adorning his face.

“But it was awesome!” you grin at the young boy, remembering the excitement you felt when you saw Tony use his name to get what he wanted for the first time.

“He’s paralyzed,” the surgeon throws the statement around like it isn’t a big deal as soon as the four of you enter a separate room. “From the waist down. There was nothing we could do.”

Your heart and your lungs seem to stop working at the same time. Peter discreetly uses his super strength to catch you as your legs give out at the surgeon's words. Tears start to pour down your face as you realize all of the things Rhodey will never be able to again. Like never being able to help defend his country again, or chase after you when you steal the last cookie that he wanted.

You can’t help but feel guilty. If he had never met you and Tony he would be fine. He would still be able to do what he loves. He never would have been put in that situation. He’ll never be able to walk again. He won’t have the opportunity to dance at his wedding or chase his children around if he decided to have either of those.

“I know it’s a lot Miss. Stark,” the MD’s voice is muffled. “But there was nothing we could have done-”

“When can I see him?” you cut the doctor off.

“I could take you to him now,” he glares at the surgeon. “He won’t wake for at least a few more hours.”

“Peter, go call Tony and tell him the update,” you look at the young boy, he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the waiting room.

The surgeon and the MD both ramble on about Rhodey’s condition but their voices sound muffled- like you’re underwater. You feel like you're suffocating in all the pain and grief you feel for the love of your life. He’s lying on the bed, oxygen tubing up his nose, at least ten wires connected to him, and the disgusting beep of his heart monitor reminds you how lucky you are that he’s still here with you.

The two men quickly leave you with Rhodey, but not before the MD promises that he’ll be under constant supervision and he’ll receive the best treatments they offer. Not that you're shocked to hear that with the scene you cause in the waiting room. You grab Rhodey’s hand, careful to avoid yanking the IV in it, pulling his hand up to your mouth to give it a feather light kiss. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stare at his still body, you were so close to losing him today.

The tears have stopped by the time Tony shows up close to an hour later, he had dropped Peter off at home before coming up to the hospital room. Your older brother looks as distressed as you feel, although he seems to be tryin to hide it more than you are.

“How is he?” his voice is quieter than you imagined, like he’s afraid any louder will make you crumble.

“Stable,” your voice is monotonous, and you refuse to tear your eye’s from Rhodey’s face as you respond to Tony. “About as good as he could be I guess.”

“How are you?” he cuts you off as you go to respond that you're fine. “And don’t bullshit me (Y/N/N), you’ve been in love with him since you were eleven. How are you feeling?”

You don’t respond, not with words at least. Instead you do crumble, letting out a quiet sob as you grip Tony’s hand that he was about to place on your shoulder. Tony runs his free hand through your hair and down your back, trying to soothe you like he used to when you would have nightmares after your parents deaths.

“We almost lost him today Tony, I almost lost him-” another sob racks through your body. “And now he’s paralyzed. He can never walk again, can never defend his Country again. And for what? A disagreement between you and Steve? We could have lost him Tony for something so fucking stupid.”

Before Tony can respond, a muffled voice breaks through the tension in the room. The voice is gravely, but one you love so dearly, it’s Rhodey’s. “(Y/N)?”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny @mrs-malfoy-always

#rhodey x reader #james rhodes #war machine #war machine x reader #stark!reader #rhodey x stark!reader #war machine x stark!reader #tony stark x sister!reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #iron man #the avengers

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magnoliasinbloom · 3 years

Text

Lie To Me - 13

AO3 :: Previously

TW: Violence

They enjoy each other one more time in the shower the next morning, Jamie taking her carefully from behind; he breathes, “I feel like God himself when I’m inside ye,” into her ear, while Claire laughs and gasps in equal measure as her hands scrabble helplessly against the slick tile wall.

Blissfully sated, they lounge about in hotel robes, devouring room service fare which Jamie charges to his own room. They talk of everything and nothing: movies, art, books, hobbies, happy memories from their childhood, favorite foods, anything but the upcoming investigation. Jamie and Claire crave normalcy, taking advantage of their idyllic London respite—pretending, Claire thinks; lying to himself, Jamie feels.

Real life comes roaring back when Jamie’s phone rings with an unknown London number.

“Hello?”

“Fraser, it’s John Grey from SCD.”

Something lurches in Jamie’s chest. Although he knows Murtagh has been in communication with Grey, the man has never contacted him directly, all parties involved deeming it too risky, should Jamie’s phone be intervened.

“How did ye—”

“Your uncle, of course. This is a secure line, don’t worry. I’m calling about Randall.”

Claire can barely hear the other voice on the phone, but Frank’s surname comes through clear as day. Jamie gestures for her to come closer, and says, “John, I’m putting ye on speaker.”

“Who else is there?” Grey immediately asks. “I don’t think—”

“It’s Randall’s ex-wife. She’s the one who set up the meeting.”

“Chief Grey, this is Claire Beauchamp.” There is a pause on either side. “What did Frank say?

“Well.” Grey gathers himself to continue. “He does move fast. We’ve been contacted by specialists tracking possible offshore accounts. We’re quite overworked at the department as it is, and Randall is proving a powerful ally.”

Jamie is relieved to hear this. It seems as though an end to all this fucked up situation is within sight. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but it’s hard not to do so, especially with Claire at his side.

John Grey prattles on about dates and documents, and urges them to maintain as low a profile as possible, particularly Jamie. Claire climbs off the bed, and while Jamie continues to listen to John, she begins to get dressed and pack her bag. Apparently, their carefree time together is up.

The return train trip goes by faster than she would have liked. Back in Glasgow, Jamie heads off to the Leoch building and Claire returns to her flat—as if they’d never spent time together, or declared their love for each other. It saddens her, but knows it’s necessary, at least for a while. While she sorts out next week’s hospital schedule, Geillis pesters her for details about the trip.

“So, did ye sleep together?”

“G, come on.” Claire waves her away, waiting for Mrs. Baird to check the logs.

“Ye’re not fooling me, ye ken, wi’ yer separate rooms nonsense. I can tell from a mile off that ye certainly had yer fun in London.”

“If you know, why are you even asking then?” Claire says exasperatedly. “We met with Frank, too. He agreed to help. Now we wait.”

“Och, Jesus,” Geillis says soberly. “I hope things work out for ye two, ye ken that, love.”

“I know.” Claire hugs her with one arm. “Even if you’re a nosy witch.”

X-x-X

“Jamie, the Mackenzie want to see you upstairs.” Louise pokes her head into his office, her faint French accent breaking into his reverie. His mind registers the request from his uncles and something in his wame sinks and rises with dread.

Jamie walks slowly to the elevator bank and swipes his ID card; he’s one of the few authorized for the meteoric rise to the penthouse office in the building. The doors open directly into a lavish sitting room; the first thing he notices is the spectacular view of the Glasgow sunset, clear of clouds and mist. The second is his uncles, Dougal standing by a massive desk and Colum, sitting in a comfortable-looking chair. His legs are hidden beneath a plaid blanket.

“Nephew. A dram?” Dougal’s deep brogue rumbles through the room. He gestures to a corner of the room and Jamie sees Angus Mohr, the MacKenzie strongman and mercenary, poised by the liquor cabinet. Jamie’s unease grows exponentially.

“No, Uncle, thank ye.”

“Ye might change yer mind, lad.” Dougal nods and Angus brings over a cut-crystal tumbler of darkly aged whisky. Colum remains impassive as Jamie sips the drink slowly.

“Why am I here?” Jamie asks finally, unable to bear the suspense. Dougal raises both bushy eyebrows, but defers to his brother.

“Your London trip. We ken all about her,” Colum states, and Jamie’s stomach flips. He thinks he might vomit as Colum goes on. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, doctor, daughter to Henry and Julia Beauchamp, now deceased. Studied at Oxford. Need I go on?”

“No.” Jamie’s voice is strangled. Do they also know what they were doing in London? He doesn’t speak another word and his uncles glare at him.

“We gather yer inconvenient… condition… is no more?” Dougal asks, in a tone that indicates an affirmation, not a question.

“Uncle, ‘tis only—”

“A lie. O’ course. Ye forfeit yer duty to family to pursue a woman, this hoor—”

“Ye willna speak of her that way!” Jamie explodes, unable to contain himself any longer and terrified for Claire. He is torn between defending her and distancing himself from her to protect her.

“Nor will ye be seeing more of her, Jamie.” Colum nods in Angus’s direction and the burly man steps forward. He is holding a ball-peen hammer, thumbing lightly at the bright silver head.

“We will, of course, be speaking wi’ Laoghaire. Ye ken yer duty, and so does she. This will be a reminder to fulfill it, and for ye to think twice before betraying family.” Dougal marches towards Jamie and pulls him from the chair by the back of his shirt.

His natural instincts are to resist, but to no avail. Between the two of them, they drag Jamie over to the enormous stone fireplace. There is no fire in the grate, so they step quite close. His left hand is yanked onto the edge of the mantel, and held there fast in Dougal’s iron grip. Jamie’s head swims with thoughts of her, his brown-haired lass, as Angus swings the hammer down mercilessly and he screams.

Jamie cradles his hand to his chest, bleeding all over himself. In the thrall of the excruciating pain of his mangled pinky and ring fingers, he does not notice anything at all: not the elevator ride down to the parking garage, nor being shoved into a black car. Only until he is tossed out on the curb does he realize it’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm13 #shit got real y'all

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 years

Note

heyy! i'm currently so obsessed with mafias so.... is it okay if i could request got7 as mafias? ;-; thank you

okayyyy as a fan of mafia aus myself I hope I did this justice! I don’t think I’m creative enough to come up with 7 different types of mafia leaders so I went more for their roles... I hope you like it anyway

warnings: organized crime, drug mention, gun mention, violence

JB- the leader

not only the leader, but the face of the gang and not an ugly face my god

very often cold and stone faced but he does crack a smile every once in a while with those he is closest with

but you still really do not want to get on his bad side or even think of crossing him in any way, he will make his enemies a simple distant memory

if things are going south he gets very upset

tables overturned, papers strewn with a gun waving about in anger

very often joins the in field teams and just does the job himself

he tries to avoid doing that but he finds he kind of likes it??

Mark- technology expert

he hacks when necessary

by any means necessary no matter how long it takes he will get the gang the money they are owed or any information they need

he tracks people that are on their radar

every move that is made he knows about

any shady business being done will no doubt be seen and reported by Mark

always a few steps ahead of rivals thanks to his surveillance of just about every move they choose to make on the grid for anything

on missions he will be in the chair telling members what to avoid or who to look for

Jackson- combat expert

so yes this has everything to do with his world ranking fencing past

he is an athlete so he knows how to train and use his body

goes on like every mission with a hand picked and a team that he has taught himself

very tough instructor of trainees looking to be a part of not only his team but the got7 mafia

has a great rap, every single mission thus far has been a success

has very detailed plans and countless back-up plans just in case Plan A goes awry

he moves quickly and as neatly as possible, he just really wants to get the job done and get home

Jinyoung- right hand man/underboss

deals more with paper and nitty gritty business

in charge of finances- like where the money is spent in their own mafia or other gangs that owe or are owed money

also in charge of where weapons and drug shipments- where they’re coming from or going

typically the voice of reason so he often leads the debriefings after leader JB has chosen who and/or what to deal with

thinks more logically than on his emotions in comparison to leader JB

speaking of JB, if the leader is ever gone or goes down, Jinyoung steps up as leader immediately

likely never on the field dealing with things with his own hands

Youngjae- undercover specialist/decoy

very often sent in to get a feel of what the gang will be dealing with

how many people are around

what the building set up is like for best points of entry or exit

where pedestrians would be able to see anything from the street

with such a happy face like his nobody ever suspects him as a member of the mafia

able to get information by simply asking bystanders because why not?

he will go in disguised for bigger missions and he has fun with it

like he creates a character for himself

Bambam- foreign affair specialist/negotiation expert

this man has friends from everywhere

the got7 mafia has allies from countless parts of the country and countless countries in general

he is the reason that treaties are made

and why the got7 gang specifically has so many allies

and why going to war with rival mafias does not happen often

so really not just foreign affairs but he is such a people person that he plays the role of negotiator too

tries very hard to keep the mafia from going to extremes by talking and negotiating with rivals

Yugyeom- assassin

this man can move and moves under the cover of darkness

whether with weapons or with physical force if this man needs to take anyone out, they get taken out

he prefers to use guns, less tiring and easier

he is an ace shooter-never misses a shot

but also never seen when he has to go in and use his hands

mostly used when someone big or notoriously difficult has to get taken out very quickly

unlike Jackson who works with a team, Yugyeom works alone or occasionally with a partner, but his missions are often straight forward

#Anonymous #asks #got7 #got7 mafia au #got7 scenarios #got7 drabbles #got7 imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop imagines

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fookinfandoms · 4 years

Text

When in Rome | Samuel Drake

Part One! Next chapters will most likely have smut.

Posted on Ao3! Find me on there!

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Taglist: @courtenbae <3

____________________________________

You weren’t sure why Nate had asked for you to fly to Italy of all places.

But you weren’t exactly complaining. Italy had always been on your bucket list, but you wouldn’t be lying if you thought you’d be here under different terms. The hotels were booked under your name, and Sully had organised the limo.

It had been some time since you had done any jobs for your friend, and the idea of dressing up always excited you. You were an I.T specialist, and Nate specifically favoured your hacking skills.

Having hacked the auction system, you had successfully gotten not only your name, but Sully’s on the guest list. Nate insisted he had his own way in, and you didn’t question him.

You had been friends with the Drake since you were both teenagers, having met him when he was running around with his older brother Sam. Speaking of the older Drake, reading over text that Sam was alive and well wasn’t exactly something you were expecting, but it made you happy nonetheless. You hadn’t seen him since before his departure to Panama, and that was well over fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years.

You were 34 now, and at 19 years old you were always the butt of every joke with Samuel. He would tease you constantly about preferring the technical side of life, or how your glasses were to big for your head, or how you dressed like a grandma.

That part of you was gone. Doing the hard labour as well as the hacking was apart of your resume, Nate even using you as a distraction a handle of times during his work. You just prayed that the night didn’t end bad, not exactly liking the idea of having to climb or shoot your way out in such a tight outfit.

Dressed in a floor length red dress, your back exposed and the neckline a little too deep for your liking, you make your way across the floor with Sully at your side. He was to open a window and let the brothers in and so you excused yourself, making your way to the bar. Your heels clicked against the ground, and you ignored the eyes on you as you stand by a stool.

Ordering yourself a scotch on the rocks, the bartender makes some comment about ordering such a strong drink, and you laugh him off. It was a ‘look the part - play the part situation’ and he winks at you as you say thank you in Italian. Taking the drink and waiting near the bar, the doors in the back open, and you spot Nathan before you spot Sully and Sam.

Sam.

He looked good. Unfortunately for you, there was that small part of you that had crushed on the older man. He wasn’t older than you by a lot, but when you were 19, the idea of liking your friends older brother never felt right. Age had been kind to him, and It didn’t help that the added years of muscle and tattoos made your eyes wide.

Stop it.

You’re not some horny teenager.

Ordering another drink for Sully, you continuing eyeing your friends before making your way over. Nate spotted you first, offering you a friendly smile as Sully copies him. Sam’s back was facing you, and as you’re about to stand between him and his brother, he turns around. His eyes roam every inch of your body, focusing a little more on the areas that would have earned him a slap had you been somebody else.

“Well hello gorgeous,” His accent was thicker than you remember, and you thought he was kidding until you saw Nate cringe from beside him. “Can I help you?”

Even Sully frowns at the Drake, and you raise your eyebrow at the man, realising he was in fact, not kidding. “Sam? It’s me… (Y/N)?”

His eyes widen, giving you a once over once more. He shakes his head at you, looking back at your companions as if waiting for one of them to say you were lying. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Yeah, guess getting old is fun huh?” You hand Sully his drink while Sam still looks at you in shock.

“I asked (Y/N) to give us a hand in all of this, she’s been quite the help over the years.” Nate speaks up, and you smile at him.

“Hang on a minute here, I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that this,” He waves his hand in your direction. “Is (Y/N), our little nerd (Y/N) with the big ass glasses.” He then shapes the glasses with his hands, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Still the same Sam.

“Yeah, it’s called contacts, they work wonders.” You chime in, and Sam just sighs, his hand sliding over his chin as he looks at you.

“Well you look stunning (Y/N), the years have definitely been good to you.” He, once again, glances at your body, eyebrow raising as you huff at him.

“You’re saying I was an ugly kid?”

“Not ugly at all, more that y-“ Nate interrupts his older brother, stopping him from embarrassing himself any further. You hate to admit it, but you definitely missed Sam and his stupid way of talking. He had always been the cocky bastard, and you were pleased that prison hadn’t killed that part of him.

“We gotta figure out how we’re getting in that door.” Sully points towards the door behind them, and you eye it, noticing its electronic.

“Give me a bit and I could get it open.” You offer, and Nate nods.

“That could work, you have your phone on you?” Nodding at him, you pat your small purse, but you quickly pretend to converse with Sam as the exact door you were talking about opens, a waiter leaving. He eyes your little group before making his way to the crowd.

He places his keycard in his back pocket, and you tilt your head towards it. “Or we could just take the card, that’ll save time.”

“(Y/N) thieving? You have changed.” Sam pipes up, and you wink at him.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” It was true, you had a number of successful jobs up your sleeve.

“Do tell.” His voice get’s a little lower, and Nate clears his throat.

“We gotta get our hands on that keycard.” He points to the waiter, ignoring whatever conversation he just had to hear.

“Then what?” You ask, eyeing the waiter in the crowd.

“Sam’s going to play dress ups and Nate’s going to cut the power.” Sully answers, and you give him a slow nod.

Sounded like an easy plan. Both brothers go to move to pickpocket the waiter, Sam letting Nathan take the first attempt. Everybody watches as he sneaks up behind the man, but evidently fails as he walks off.

“Oh, real smooth.” Sam quips, and Nathan replies something about ‘not even trying yet.’

He tries again, and fails once more. The drake at your side chuckles at his brothers failure, looking down at you as he winks. “Wanna see something impressive? Keep watching sweetheart.”

Sam takes over, stalking the waiter as Nathan rolls his eyes. You cross your arms over, watching as the older brother attempts to pick pocket. Just like his brother, he fails and you chuckle, giving him a thumbs up as he frowns. He tries again, and the waiter turns around, looking at Sam in confusion. He says something to him, and the waiter points to the staircase.

The Drake excuses himself, making his way back to your group. “That was impressive Sam, I haven’t seen you eat absolute shit in fifteen years.”

He scoffs as the other men chuckle, and you sigh, handing your purse to the older man. Sully takes it, eyeing you as you fix your hair and perk your breasts up in your dress. Both Nate and Sully look away as they awkwardly cough, but Sam watches intently as you roll your eyes at him yet again.

“You’re gonna do a lift sweetheart?” He asks, and you ignore him, making your way over to the where the waiter was last standing.

He had walked further into the crowd, and you grabbed a glass of champagne from another passing waiter as you spot him.

“Does she know what she’s doing?” Sam asks his brother, and Nathan nods before shushing him, focusing on the lift.

You make a beeline for the man, and before you know it you’ve stumbled into him, right hand grabbing the keycard from his back pocket as your left hand raises the glass higher. He turns around instantly, and you’ve already shoved the keycard up your sleeve when your right hand grabs onto his shoulder in a fake attempt to steady yourself.

"Mi dispiace!” You purposely make the pronunciation sound loose, and immediately his attention is on you. Eyes wandering over you as you give him your best smile. Drama was never your specialty, but men were stupid when it came to a pretty face.

Your boys watch as the waiter attempts to make sure you’re okay, staring up at you in your high heels. You’re touching his shoulder still, apologising profusely for running into him, blaming it on somebody who pushed you.

“Oh she’s good,” Sam remarks, and Sully nods at him, all still watching you. “Now why can’t you do that Nathan?”

“Because I don’t have boo-You know what? Shut up.” Nathan scoffs at his older brother, and before he knows it, you’re already on your way back the them.

Pulling out the keycard from your sleeve, you hand it to Sully, an amused expression on your face. “Never send a Drake to do a woman’s job.”

“Your words hurt me.” Sam holds his hand over his heart, and you scoff at him, nudging him with your elbow.

“Nice work,” Nathan nods at you. “We ready?”

You all nod at him and as Sully goes to open the door, you stop him, pulling out a bunch of earpieces from your purse. “We’ll still need these.”

Nate mutters a ‘great’ as they all take one, placing in their ear. You do the same, hiding the piece with your hair. The brothers leave through the door, leaving you with Sully.

“Testing that you boys can hear me.” You speak casually, your older companion nodding at you as you hear Nate through your earpiece.

“Loud and clear (Y/N).” His voice comes out clear, and you smile to yourself.

Sam however doesn’t say anything, and apart of you was worried you had gotten a faulty piece. “Samuel?”

“Yes princess?” He chuckle comes through, and you sigh. Pet names? Gone were the days he called you four eyes.

“Asshole, answer me when I talk.” You order, not liking the idea of being left in the dark.

“Demanding, I like it,” He replies, and you’re about to say something when you hear a thump, and Sam grunts. “O-Ow, what was that for?”

Both you and Sully roll your eyes, knowing Nathan must’ve smacked upside the head.

“Thank you Nate.” You reach for another champagne, Sully sticking close to you.

“Again, your words hurt me.” Sam mumbles, and you go to speak again when an unfamiliar woman comes up behind Sully.

“Hands in the air,” You tense as Sully turns around. “Hi Victor.”

“Hello Nadine, pleasure to see you again.” He greets her, and you relax a little realising he knows her.

She says some more, as does he and you step closer to your friend. The woman, Nadine, eyes you warily, and Sully clears his throat.

“Nadine, this is my goddaughter, (Y/N),” He then points back at the woman. “This is an old associate of mine, Nadine.”

“Goddaughter?” She asks, and you nod at her, smiling up at Sully.

“That would be me, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Her accent was thick, and she turns her attention back to the older gentleman, talking more about the event and being dressed up. She offers to buy him a drink and he accepts, and she surprises you as she offers you one, but you politely decline.

She walks off, and Sully immediately warns the boys about her and her organisation ‘Shoreline’. It was an army for hire, but Nadine herself looked like she can handle a fight if need be.

“Come back to us in one piece boys.” You mumble, taking another sip of your champagne.

“Have some faith princess, we’re pros.” Sam answers, and you bite your tongue to refrain from bringing up the whole ‘incarcerated for fifteen years’.

______________________

All within an hour, you and Sully had a run in with a Rafe Adler, and at first he seemed alright until he threw Sully’s drink from his hand. He was a rich little daddies boy who had a hard on for Avery’s treasure, and the idea of competition didn’t excite him.

He even went as far as to try and converse with you, asking why such a pretty thing was hanging around Victor. Rafe didn’t buy the goddaughter story, but he continued talking to you. If it weren’t for Samuel yelling in your ear telling you to walk away, you would’ve stuck your heel in his foot instantly.

Rafe excused himself when the auctioneer announced they were starting, threatening Sully once more before walking off.

“Asshole.” You muttered, sending daggers in his direction.

“You alright (Y/N)?” Sam asks, and you notice his voice sounds a lot clearer.

You look around spotting him in a waiters uniform, you nod at him with a small smile. “I’m okay, nice outfit.”

He rolls his eyes as he lifts a tray in his hand. “Might keep it, you into role-play?”

Sully clears his throat, and you both chuckle at the man.

Some time passed, both Rafe and Sully bidding against each other for the cross. You made your way towards the backdoor, waiting for Nathan to cut the power. As if on cue, the power goes out and you open the door, Sam and Sully behind you in what seemed like seconds.

The lift went smoothly. The power turned back on, and you hear Rafe shouting from the other side. As the three of you begin to walk fast, you take off your heels, holding them in your hand as you follow after the men.

A fight in heels didn’t sound particularly fun, and you stop when you reach a corridor. “Sully,” You nod towards the door. “We’ll get Nathan, think you can get a car ready?”

“I can do that.” You hand him your heels, and he shakes his head at you, taking them carefully. He runs into the direction of the door, and you bend over, ripping the side of your dress so you could run.

“Wow-wow, not that I’m complaining but what’re you doing?” Sam watches as you tear the other side, and you kick your legs out, making sure you have room.

“I get those pants are tight, but you try running around in this thing.”

He thinks over your answer, and you both begin running again.

After some climbing, window breaking and a gunfight, the four of you make your getaway in a limo, cross in hand.

#Samuel Drake x reader #sam drake x reader #sam drake smut #reader insert #uncharted x reader #fookinfandoms

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

I have to begin this column by admitting that “Biden” (note: when in quotation marks, I refer to the “collective Biden”, not the clearly senile man) surprised me: it appears that my personal rule-of-thumb about US Presidents (each one is even worse than his predecessor) might not necessarily apply in “Biden’s” case. That is not to say that “Biden” won’t end up proving my rule of thumb as still applicable, just that what I am seeing right now is not what I feared or expected.

…

I think that both of these grossly oversimplify a probably much more complex and nuanced reality. In other words, “Biden” surprised many, if not most, Russians. That is very interesting by itself (neither Bush, nor Obama nor Trump ever surprised the Russians – who knew the score about all of them – in any meaningful way).

My strictly personal guess is that there is some very serious infighting currently taking place inside the US ruling class. Furthermore, that serious infighting is not about core principles or even strategy – it is a dispute over tactics only.

We have to keep in mind an old truism about outcomes: John F. Kennedy once said that “victory has a hundred fathers, but defeat is an orphan” and he was right. When any group seizes power and effectively controls its interests, all is well, and everybody is busy consuming the proverbial milk and honey. But when this group suffers a series of humiliating defeats, a typical cascade of events begins:

Finger pointing: everybody blames everybody else (but never himself/herself)

Hindsight wisdom: “if I had been in charge, this would not have happened!”

Infighting over quickly shrinking spoils of war

A collapse of the centralized center of authority/decision-making centers

Generation of subgroups, fighting each other over their sub-interests

In other words, following many years of extremely weak presidential administrations (since Clinton, imho), it is hardly a surprise that infighting would take place (in both parties, by the way). In fact, an apparently chaotic set of uncoordinated, or even contradictory, policies is what one should expect. And that is exactly what we have been observing since 1993 and this dynamic has been getting worse and worse with each passing year).

…

That being said, there are some observations which might be helpful when trying to at least (indirectly) identify who are the main groups fighting each other.

The hardcore, really nutty, russophobes are still here, especially in the US media which seems to be serving not so much “Biden” as much as some “crazies in the basement” kind of cabal. Next to the legacy ziomedia, there is an increasing number of US/NATO/UK military officials who are foaming at the mouth with threats, warnings, complaints and insults, all against Putin and Russia. This is important because:

The “Zone A” media has comprehensively and very effectively concealed the very real risks of war with Russia, China and Iran. And if this was mentioned, the presstitutes always stressed that the US has the “best military in the history of the galaxy” and that Uncle Sam will “kickass” anybody he chooses to. If the people of the USA were informed of the truth of the matter, they would freak out and demand that this path to war be immediately abandoned and replaced with a meaningful dialog.

US/NATO/UK authorities have talked themselves into a corner where they have only two outcomes left: they can do what the US always does, that is to “declare victory and leave”, or they can force Russia to protect her borders on land, air and sea and, thereby, face a major military humiliation delivered by Russia.

Truth be told, during the recent naval exercises UK and US officials made a lot of threats and promises to ignore Russian warnings, but in the end, they quietly packed and left. Smart choice, but it must have been painfully humiliating for them, which is very dangerous by itself.

…

There will be many more NATO exercises in the Black Sea in the future. Ditto for USN operations off the Chinese, Iranian or DPRK coasts. This (always explosive) combo of ignorance, arrogance and incompetence could result in a major war.

LAnother option is the terminally delusional UK government (supported by those Brits who still have phantom pains about their lost empire and, of course, by the largely irrelevant 3B+PU gang) might do something really stupid (say, like this) and trigger a war with the DPRK, Russia, China or Iran and then the US would have to move to defend/save a British Navy which is mostly a joke (at least by Russian or Chinese standards). The main problem here being that the USN is also in a terrible shape and cannot compete against Russian and Chinese standoff weapons (I mean that literally, there are currently no defenses against maneuvering hypersonic missiles! The only exception would be the Russian S-500). The latter two nations, by the way, have joined into an informal and unofficial military alliance for many years already; check out this article and video or this one for a recent update).

But opposite, de-escalatory developments are also taking place. First and foremost, “Biden” seemed to have “farmed out” the “Ukrainian dossier” to the Germans and washed Uncle Shmuel’s hands from it. If so, that was a very slick and smart move (which is something we have not witnessed from any administration in decades!). I highly recommend this translation of a most interesting article by arguably the best Ukraine specialist out there, Rostislav Ishchenko.

Ishchenko goes into a lot of interesting details and explains what “Biden” apparently just did. Frankly, the Germans richly deserve this full-spectrum mess and they will be dealing with the consequences of this disaster for a long time, possibly decades. In fact, the Germans are stuck: they want to be the Big European Leader? Let them. After all, the EU politicians, led by Germany, did all they could to create what is now often called “country 404” – a black hole in the heart of the European continent. Germany is the biggest economic power of the EU? Good, then let the Germans (and the rest of the EU) pay for the eventual reconstruction of the Ukraine (or of the successor-states resulting from the breakup of the country)! Russia simply cannot foot that bill, China most definitely won’t (especially after being cheated several times by the Ukies) and the USA has absolutely no reasons whatsoever to do so. I would even argue that chaos (social, economic, political, cultural. etc.) in Europe is probably seen by the US ruling class as highly desirable since it 1) weakens the EU as a competitor 2) justifies, however hypocritically and mistakenly, a “strong US presence” in Europe and 3) gives NATO a reason (however mistaken, misguided and even immoral) to exist

The US is protected from the fallout (immigrants, violence, extremism, etc.) of the Ukrainian disaster by distance, the Atlantic, a much stronger military (at least compared to anybody else in NATO). The US can print money in any way it wants and has no interests whatsoever in the (dying) Ukraine. If Ishchenko is right, and I agree with him, then there is somebody (possibly a group of somebodies) who is a lot smarter than anybody in the Trump Admin and who figured out that the Nazi-occuppied Ukraine should be an German/EU problem, not one for the US.

There is, of course, also the pessimistic analysis: the US is on the retreat everywhere, but only for the following reasons:

Regroup, reorganize, buy time to develop some kind of coherent strategy

Focus on each adversary separately and prioritize (divide et impera at least!)

Re-analyze, re-plan, re-design, re-develop, re-train, re-equip and re-test pretty much everything in the US armed forces (which have not been shaped by any rational force planning in decades)

Those who believe the strategic retreat theory (I am not personally discounting this version, but I do not see enough evidence – yet – to endorse it either) typically add that “the US only left Afghanistan to hand it over to the Taliban/al-Qaeda and unleash them against “soft underbelly of Russia”. Now, that is utter nonsense, if only because Russia does not have a common border with Afghanistan.

…

Coming back to “Biden’s” great retreat: if “Biden” is smart enough to hang the Ukraine on Germany, “he” is probably too smart to predicate the US foreign policy towards Russia predicated around the “soft underbelly” thingie. As for all the “fire and brimstone” threats of war against Russia, they are not impressing anybody as the Russians, the Chinese and the Iranians know that a confident and powerful country does not need to threaten anybody, if only because the actual capabilities of these country are a very telling “threat” by themselves. But when a former superpower is weak, confused and frightened, it will make many roaring statements about how it can defeat the entire planet if needed (after all, the US military is “the best military in the history of the galaxy”! If you doubt that, just listen to Toby Keith!). In other words, while in the West threats are an instrument of foreign policy, in Russia, and in the rest of Asia, they are inevitably seen as a sign of weakness, doubts and even fear.

Then there seems to be a long list of weapons systems, procurement plans and “defense” monies which have been pulled back, including the (truly awful) LCS and F-35. While it is true that the US is gradually phasing out fantastically expensive weapons systems and platforms which were also more or less useless, this show the ability to at least admit that all that talk about super-dooper US superweapons was just that, talk, and that in reality the US MIC is incapable of producing the kind of superb high quality systems which it used to produce in large quantities in the past (Arleigh Burke, F-15, Jumbo 747, the Willys Jeep, F-16, A-10, Los Angeles SSN, KH satellites, etc.). This is why the F-15X is designed to “augment” the F-35 feet (by itself a very smart move!).

Such an admission, even if indirect and only logically implied, might show a level of maturity, or courage, by “Biden” which his predecessors did not have.

Could it be that the folks at the Pentagon, who do know the reality of the situation (see here for a very good Moon of Alabama article about this), figured out that Clinton, Bush, Obama and Trump vastly over extended the Empire and now they need to regroup and “re-everything” to achieve a more sustainable “defense” posture?

Could it be that “Biden” will deliver what Trump promised, i.e. to end the useless (and unwinnable!) wars, stop caring too much about the agonizing EU, silently accept that Russia has no intentions (and no need!) whatsoever to attack anyone and focus on the biggest non-military threat out there: China. Maybe.

As far as I know, many (all?) simulations – by RAND and the US military – and command staff exercises have shown that the US would lose badly to both Russia or China. Could it be that “Biden” wants to put Russia and China on the backburner and “deal” with Iran first? The latest news on the US/Israel vs Iran front is not good, to say the least.

…

So what are we left with?

Frankly, I am not sure.

I think that there is very strong, even if only indirect, evidence which there is some very serious in-fighting taking place in the “Biden” administration and there is also strong, but also indirect, evidence that the military posture of the United States is undergoing what might end up being a major overhaul of the US armed forces.

If true, and that is a big “if”, this is neither good news nor bad news.

But this might be big news.

Why?

Because, objectively, the current US retreat on most fronts might be the “soft landing” (transition from Empire to “normal” country) many Trump voters were hoping for. Or it might not. If it is not, this might be a chaos-induced retreat, indicating that the US state is crumbling and has to urgently “simplify” things to try to survive, thereby generating a lot of factional infighting (at least one Russian observer specialized in “US studies”, Dmitrii Drobnitskii, believes to be the case: see the original article here, and its machine translation here). Finally, the state of decay of the US state might already be so advanced that we can consider it as profoundly dysfunctional and basically collapsing/collapsed. The first option (soft landing) is unlikely, yet highly desirable. The second option (chaos-induced retreat) is more likely, but much less desirable as it is only a single step back to then make several steps forward again. The last option (profoundly dysfunctional and basically collapsing/collapsed) is, alas, the most likely, and it is also, by far, the most perilous one.

For one thing, options #2 and #3 will make US actions very unpredictable and, therefore, potentially extremely dangerous. Unpredictable chaos can also quickly morph into a major war, or even several major ones, so the potential danger here is very real (even if totally unreported in Zone A). This, in turn, means that Russia, China, Iran, the DPRK, Venezuela or Cuba all have to keep their guard up and be ready for anything, even the unthinkable (which is often what total chaos generates).

Right now, the fact that the US has initiated a “great retreat” is undeniable. But the true reasons behind it, and its implications, remain quite obscure, at least to me.

I will conclude by asking you, the readers, for your opinion: do you think that the US is currently in a “contraction phase”? If yes, do you believe that this is a short-term only phenomenon, or will this retreat continue and, if yes, how far?

#unz review #the saker

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ultadachi · 4 years

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pentagon mafia au headcanon: how you met them

a/n: hi so this was requested buuuut the new tumblr fucked the formatting really bad when i tried to post it with the ask so i’m just gonna do it in a regular post lmao. but shoutout to the anon who requested this!!!!

Warnings: mafia stuff, and mentions of violence and murder

(these are based off of these mafia!ptg headcanons btw!!!)

Hui (The boss/leader)

You met him when your father wanted to make a deal with Hui’s group. In exchange for a treaty and some protection for his group, he’d give Hui your hand in marriage. You obviously weren’t happy about it but there wasn’t really anything you could do. But during your time before the wedding when you’d go off on dates with Hui to get to know him better, you found that he seemed to actually put in effort to get to know you, and he did seem to care -- even though he knew you clearly didn’t want to marry him. So to get you out of the deal, he ‘got rid’ of your father, knowing his mafia was too small and weak to do anything to himself or his own. In the end, you broke off the engagement, but you stayed with Hui because you had truly fallen for him. But this time, you’d go at a slower pace.

Jinho (The strategist)

You’d known Jinho for a while since you were apart of Hui’s mob. You were lower ranked than the main 9, but you tended to get called to the field a lot, which meant you had to work with Jinho quite a bit. Thankfully for him, you were a lot more competent than a lot of the field workers -- including some of the higher ranked guys like Hyojong. But you did tend to go against his orders just because of what you claimed was a “gut feeling” which really pushed his buttons. But your plans always worked out, which seemed to only annoy him further. But for some reason, you getting on his nerves while still being able to get your job done was what really intrigued him. You’ve had a ‘thing’ for a bit, keeping it a secret from Hui.

Hongseok (The medic)

Originally, you were the enemy. You worked for someone they were trying to catch, so they needed you back alive -- so maybe sending out Hyojong and Wooseok to do the job wasn’t the right move. You were immediately brought to the medical ward where you woke up to see Hongseok. At first, you didn’t tell anybody anything, and they couldn’t send you off to Changgu because you were still too badly injured. But after spending enough time in Hongseok’s care, you started to warm up to him. Somehow you managed to make a deal that if you could work for them instead, you’d tell them whatever they wanted to know. Now you go out in the field for Hui, and Hongseok can’t help but get especially worried whenever you leave or are brought to him after a mission.

Hyojong (The close combat/weapons specialist)

You’ve been his target for a while now, but the two of you seem to play this weird game of cat and mouse where he gets so close to catching you before you slip right through his fingers. Neither of you can tell if you’re letting him catch you for just a moment or if he’s letting you get away just to keep the chase going. But it’s definitely an unconventional way to flirt. But both of you know that at some point, he’ll have to either capture you or face serious consequences. But for now, you enjoy your childish little game.

Shinwon (The spy)

You had met him a year ago when he was undercover, and truthfully, he’s been partly undercover since he met you. He’s too afraid of telling you what he really does, so he’s been lying to you ever since you started dating. You simply think he just works awful work hours since he comes home late and leaves early. He knows he can’t lie to you forever, but he wants you to live in blissful ignorance for as long as possible.

Changgu (The torturer)

There really isn’t any cool story of how the two of you met. You worked as a bartender and he talked to you all night once when he came in with his rowdy friends. He asked you on a date and left you his number, and the rest is history. When you both wanted to get more serious, he was very upfront about being in the mafia, but he didn’t specify what he did -- which was good because his might’ve been one of the most fucked up jobs, but you wouldn’t be able to believe the soft and kind boy would be capable of capturing and torturing people -- and he promised to give you a better life than what you had. True to his word, you’ve been happy with Changgu for a while now.

Yanan (The sniper)

You quickly climbed the ranks in Hui’s group, and you’ve been avidly trying to take Yanan’s spot for months now. He’s the best sniper out there, and you’re about equal with him -- though Hui would never give up Yanan because it’s not just the fact he’s the best, but the fact he knows he can trust and rely on Yanan. But you’re out to not only outdo Yanan, but be the biggest pain in the ass you possibly can be. He might’ve even tried to take you out himself once, but if he’s the best sniper, you’re the best dodger.

Yuto (The hacker)

As a hacker, Yuto spends a lot of his time on his computer. And when he’s waiting around to do communications and recon from home while the rest of the group is out, he gets really bored. So he often plays video games, which is how he met you. You’ve had somewhat of a long distance relationship for about half a year, but you’ve been friends for over two. The only thing is that he has you convinced that he works as a video game programmer which is why he’s always so busy. But he figures since you’re so far away, his little white lie to protect you won’t be too bad.

Hyunggu (The versatile)

Kino’s always been a troubled kid in the sense that he got involved with the wrong people. That being said, he’s also always been sweet and kind, which was why you became friends in school and eventually high school sweethearts. You’ve been with him ever since, always well aware of the business he got himself into, but still staying by his side no matter what. Not really the most interesting story out of the bunch, but definitely one of the sweetest.

Wooseok (The hitman)

You were one of Changgu’s victims after your brother became one of Wooseok’s. Being the hitman, Wooseok doesn’t usually show much sympathy, but having heard you for days locked away with Changgu, he couldn’t help but start to feel sorry for you, and he genuinely believed that you didn’t have any more information on their target -- you weren’t even aware your brother was involved in the mafia. After that, Wooseok became like your personal bodyguard while they kept you at HQ because now you knew too much.

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through.

It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more. “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

“Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake. “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

“Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.” “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground. “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

“As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they? “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh. “Money is not the motive,” she returns, curt.

An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

“This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule. The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns.

In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle.

Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in. “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states. “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene. “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation. “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.” Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

“There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.” The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used. “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies. “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes. “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up. “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up. “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate? A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family. “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders.

Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification. “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.” The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.” “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly. “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder. “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more. “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near. What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

“That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on.

It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it.

Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

“We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?” Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open. “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?” “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

“What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital. “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters. Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

“She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic. “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar. “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--” “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes. “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with. Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case. Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.” “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges. She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by. “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him. “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?” “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs. Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.” “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier. Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?” “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point. “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in. “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says. “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag. “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders. “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows. “Ouch,” Dean comments.

The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

“That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that could point you fellas towards a suspect.” Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

“This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.” “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully. “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving. “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.” “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up. “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other. “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined. “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?” “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital. “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky. “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

“Sullivan.” “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase. “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?” Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing. “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated. “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him. Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage.

“Zoë?” “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?” The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm. “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--” “- You FIGURED?!”

Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in. “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother. Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

“We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively. “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!” “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman. “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!” “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

“No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…” “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating. “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala. Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude.

Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes. “Just say it,” he mutters. “Say what?” “You know what.” Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in. His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.” “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call. “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders. “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.” “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.” “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene. As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?” “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly. “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

“Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.” “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer. “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up. “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head. “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.” “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

“Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips. “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.” “Deal.”

Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker. “What?” he snaps, still mad at her. “What are you up to?” The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time. “Depends,” he answers, curt. “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.” “So?” “Might be something.”

Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë. “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!” “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns. “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check. “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

“I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same. “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.” “I don’t know...” Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got. “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.” Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare. “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left. “Dean?”

The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again. “Fine,” he utters, barely audible. “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?” “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.” “So, do we meet up or what?” “Yeah, sure.” “Where are you at?”

Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on. “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her. “Shit motel.” He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.” “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.” “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.” “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!” “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees. “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food. “Zo?” he interrupts. “Yeah?” “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused. “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around. “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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mint-yooxgi · 4 years

Text

Obsession - Prologue

Yandere AU - Part of the EXO Obsession Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (In later chapters)

Pairing: EXO OT9 X Reader (with a particular focus on X-EXO)

Words: 3,002

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: On the sixth day of ficmas, Jackie gave to me~ So I know this technically isn’t what was originally scheduled to be posted, but life caught up with me and since I already had this finished, I figured you guys could enjoy this as the update instead! I do really hope you all like this one, as I have a lot planned for this series. Without further ado, feedback is always greatly appreciated, enjoy lovelies!

Walking into the base in the early evening, you’re greeted by a few of your coworkers. They either wave slightly or nod in your direction as you walk past, heading straight for the mission quarters near the back of the building for your next assignment.

You work for the company EXO, under the Supernatural Mutations department which is in-charge of taking care of variants found throughout the city, as well as nulling any types of threats that may occur which could harm the civilian population. This force includes humans, as well as certain supernatural beings. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

Ever since about fifteen years ago, supernaturals have made their presences known to the human population, and after a war which lasted five years, both sides came to an agreement to live in peace and harmony, as they once were. However, there are still rogues out there whom love to cause havoc, and bring harm to the civilian population of both humans and supernaturals alike.

This is where your team comes in. Whenever there is a serious threat, your team is sent in to take care of it. Whether it be a murderous vampire, a feral werewolf, or even a rogue mutant, you’ve seen it all. However, your biggest challenge currently seems to be a witch whom is hellbent on bringing down your strike team.

She seems to hold a grudge against all ten members of your team for taking down her coven a few months back after learning of their schemes to assassinate the world council leaders at their yearly conference in Busan. Clearly, she has some unresolved issues of not being able to move on.

One thing that’s frustrating though, is that you have yet to take her down. No matter how hard you work to catch her, and end her evil plots, she always manages to escape at the last second.

One thing that you’ve always appreciated about your job is that it doesn’t discriminate. Since supernaturals are allowed to work on the team, they simply add to the prowess and skill of the whole. You’re grateful for many of your coworkers, for you don’t know where you’d be without them.

Before you can even raise your hand to knock on the mission’s office door, an alarm blares to life, red lights beginning to flash all around the base.

“That’s not good,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything.

You nearly stumble back as the door in front of you gets flung open and your team begins to run out. Seeing you standing there, Jongin stops in his tracks long enough to grip your wrist and begin dragging you along with them.

“What’s going on?” You question, being pulled into the weapons room as six of them begin to gear up while the other three grab their tool kits. You begin to suit up as well, able to see the seriousness of the situation already.

“Shelly is on the move again,” Minseok informs you as he begins to lead the way to the bunker where all the vehicles are stored.

“Apparently, she just set off a large scale explosion, trapping about a hundred civilians inside a warehouse,” Sehun adds, slinging his bow onto his back as he exits the weapons room.

“She sent out an announcement minutes ago saying that she’s going to cast a spell over the city within the next ten minutes which will ‘shed light on everyone once and for all,’ so we need to hurry,” Junmyeon adjust his earpiece as you all make it to the bunker.

“Give me more details on the way,” you say, hearing the engine of the hovercraft start up as the gate lowers for you all to enter inside. “Let’s get this bitch once and for all.”

“Right,” you hear them all say as you enter the hovercraft.

On the way over to the warehouse, you discuss your plan of action with your strike team, consisting of Jongin, Jongdae, Junmyeon, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Sehun. Yixing, Minseok, and Kyungsoo will all remain in the hovercraft, scanning the area for potential threats, as well as making sure the civilians get out safely while no rogues escape.

Each member of your team has a certain specialty, each having a specific role to play. Yixing is the pilot, as well as the certified medic. Minseok and Kyungsoo are the tech specialists, while the rest of you are the infiltration and strike team, each with your own unique abilities.

Chanyeol is a fire sprite, meaning he has the ability to manipulate heat and flames. Jongin can teleport, and is usually very good at getting out of tricky situations unharmed. Jongdae is a thunder kitsune who can control lightning, but is also a master strategist. Sehun is an incredible marksman with a bow, while Baekhyun is a skilled swordsman who can handle any blade. Junmyeon, a vampire, is particularly skilled at hand to hand combat, while your specialty is guns. You’re also the leader of this band of misfits, of which you couldn’t ask for a better team.

You’ve taught them a lot of what they know as you were the one to train most of them when they first arrived to EXO. You’ve saved their lives countless times, and they’ve saved yours. You wouldn’t trade them for anything, and you know that they feel the same way.

“Alright, everyone, switch your earpieces to channel five,” you say, noticing how they immediately do as told. “We begin the drop down on my signal.”

Receiving nods from your team, Yixing flies in closer to the roof of the building, but not before making sure to activate the cloaking mechanism. Once you’re close enough, you lift your mask over the bottom half of your face, and nod.

The hatch opens, and you give your hand signals for the first team to drop, watching as Junmyeon, Jongin, and Baekhyun all drop down to the roof. The next team to follow is Jongdae and Chanyeol, followed shortly by you and Sehun.

Feeling your feet hit the roof, you begin to move over to your respective point of entrance with Sehun, seeing the others do the same. With a final nod from you, the seven of you enter through separate hatches on the roof, your plan being to converge in the centre, the spot in which the most power is emanating from.

Entering into the darkness of the warehouse, you’re quick to switch on the small light that’s attached to your gun. What little light from the hatch above you does nothing to make the hallway you’re in more visible.

Hearing Sehun drop down beside you, you give the all clear to start moving, hearing the others through your earpiece also beginning to make their way through the warehouse after maintaining a clear coast.

With Sehun at your side, you quickly clear the section of the warehouse you’ve assigned to yourselves, letting the others know through your communication pieces. A few minutes later reveals their sections all clear as well.

Your brow furrows slightly as you continue to make your way through the warehouse. So far, you haven’t ran into anyone, which is concerning, considering you were informed of the many hostages that have been taken. You thought you would have at least ran into someone, or at least another enemy working for Shelly.

Rounding the corner with your gun raised, you come cross the stairwell that will lead you down towards the main area where Shelly supposedly is supposedly hiding out.

With a quick nod to Sehun, you begin to descend the stairs.

Your brow furrows even further when you hear the faintest whisper of your name on the air, followed by a distinct laugh which can only belong to the witch in question. You’re getting a sneaking suspicion that this may be a trap.

“Viper, Null, have you come across any variants yet?” You hear Junmyeon’s voice through your earpiece.

“None,” you reply.

“What about you guys? Chen, Loey?” Sehun inquires as you reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Nothing yet, which is surprising,” Jongdae’s voice rings through, the others humming their agreement.

“You guys, I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Yixing’s voice can be heard, followed by some static.

“Be careful, the radar is glitching, so I can’t get a read on the inside of the warehouse anymore,” Kyungsoo adds, and you can hear Minseok fumbling with something the background.

“Seems like most of our detection equipment is malfunctioning,” Minseok grumbles.

“What’s everyone’s position currently?” Your voice is heard as you round another corner, gun raised.

“Closing in on the meeting point,” Jongin tells you, and you hear a grunt of confirmation come from Chanyeol, signifying they’re also close.

You can faintly see streams of light beginning to come from down the hallway, and off to the right. You know the main area is just around the corner, so you switch off your flashlight, putting your hand up to halt Sehun in his tracks. Following your lead, he presses his back to the wall beside you, waiting for your signal.

“We’re ready, just give us the signal,” Jongin says lowly.

“Ready when you are, captain,” Jongdae adds, and you know that they’re all in position now, surrounding the room you’re peeking into.

You can faintly see the outline of a figure standing in the centre of the room, their back turned to you. They seem to be chanting something under their breath as a massive swirl of energy begins to grow in front of them, shifting the air in the room.

“What is that?” Baekhyun gasps.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from it,” Junmyeon replies, causing you to hum in agreement.

Your eyes cautiously scan the entirety of the room, not seeing anyone else in sight. You furrow your brow once more in confusion. You thought there were hostages in this situation, but it no longer seems you have to worry about any civilian casualties. Looks like it was just a plan to lure you out here to the warehouse.

“Looks like she hasn’t noticed us yet,” Sehun observes, watching how Shelly seems to be focusing all her attention on the growing mass of energy in front of her.

“Okay, Suho, Kai, Guan, approach from the centre,” you instruct. “Loey, Chen, left side. Null and I will take the right.”

Small sounds of approval are heard as you all begin to slowly approach Shelly from behind, weapons raised. As you get closer, you can hear her voice growing louder in her chanting, until she suddenly stops.

Immediately raising a hand with a closed fist, you halt all movements of your team, waiting to see what she does next. However, what you don’t expect is for her to start laughing maniacally.

“How nice of you to finally join me,” she turns to face the seven of you, and so badly do you want to wipe that grin right off of her face.

“Yeah, thanks for the invitation,” Chanyeol scoffs, flames appearing in both his hands as he holds them at his sides, squaring his shoulders as he prepares to lunge into an attack at your command.

“Well, I had to do something that would grab your attention, and not one of your measly little subordinates,” she chuckles, tossing some of her hair over her shoulder in the process.

“Just go ahead and make this easier for all of us,” Junmyeon says, locking gazes with her. “Surrender.”

“Oh, but then where’s the fun in that?” She hums, tilting her head slightly to the side in a mocking fashion.

“Saves you the humiliation of getting your ass kicked,” Sehun smirks, raising his bow more fully to take aim at her chest.

“That’s a nice thought, but I don’t think so,” she responds, eyes flicking towards where you’re standing. “I’m not the one who’s going to lose today.”

“You sound so sure of yourself,” you reply, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Once I finish this spell, I know I’ll have nothing to fear,” she counters, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’ve taken everything from me. Everything. Now, it’s time for my revenge.”

With those words, she springs into action, moving her arms in a sweeping motion and sending the seven of you flying across the room. You hit the wall with a loud smack, the others getting scattered throughout.

In an instant, Shelly is in front of you, a deadly smirk on her features. Before you can raise your gun to take aim, she’s flinging it out of your hands, pinning your arms to the wall using magic as she lifts you by your throat with her one hand.

“Soon, you’ll know what it feels like to have nothing,” she snarls, tightening her grip around your throat, making you gasp slightly for air.

“Let her go,” Jongin snarls from behind her, and you barely manage to shake your head at the six of them who now stand in a semi-circle in front of you.

“One wrong move and I’ll crush her throat,” Shelly threatens, causing the men before you to hesitate slightly.

While her focus is on them, you manage to move your arm close enough to your side and slide out your switchblade from your pants’ pocket. Your arms may be pinned to the wall beside you, but you can still slide them for side to side. Some witch she’s supposed to be, can’t even pin you properly. Well, she was never the strongest, or smartest, of her coven.

In the instant it takes for you to lock eyes with him, Jongin teleports beside Shelly, sending a quick punch to her side. This causes her hold to loosen on you just enough to free your airway properly, but serves to distract her long enough to break her magical hold on you.

Moving swiftly, you lunge at her, burying your switchblade into her chest and causing her to stumble back a bit. She holds a hand up to her wound, blood slipping through her fingertips as she attempts to stop the bleeding.

Instead of panicking, seeing as she’s been injured and is now surrounded by the seven of you, she laughs. A grin pull at her features as her eyes become crazed.

“Now you’ve done it,” she jeers, as a rumble sounds off to the side.

The giant energy sphere begins to swirl faster, catching all of your attention. It begins to flash different colours, expanding and contracting as tendrils of energy swirl and flare around it. You hear Shelly chanting one final line, and your eyes widen. You need to stop her before the spell is completed.

Lunging at her, you’re quick to put her in a headlock. Junmyeon is the first to react, racing over and ripping her heart from her chest. Her body slumps in your hold, eyes now void of life.

However, this only seems to cause the massive ball of energy to become unstable, swirling faster as it begins to shake the entire building. You can hear the worried voices of Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Yixing in your ears asking what’s going on, but you’re all too distracted to answer, concerned with how you’re going to make it out alive.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, a bright light blinds you, causing you to bring your hands up to block the flash, dropping Shelly’s body to the floor in the process. You get thrown backwards once more, eyes closed as the sphere shoots out beams of energy, tearing through the building wherever it makes contact.

You can hear the six men with you grunting, hearing as they get hit with something, getting thrown backwards just like you shortly afterwards. You worry for their safety, but you can’t do anything at the moment.

It takes about two minutes for the light to die down, and some dust to settle around you. Blinking, you manage to clear your vision enough to take in the damage around you. Luckily, it isn’t as bad as you thought it to be, sounding much worse than it is.

Looking around, you spot the six men on the ground surrounding you. They groan slightly as they stand up, a few of them rubbing their heads as they get shakily back onto their feet.

“What in the hell was that?” Baekhyun groans, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

“I have no idea, but is everyone okay?” Junmyeon asks, eyes briefly scanning everyone for injuries.

“Was I the only one who got hit with something, or did you guys feel it, too?” Jongin voices, running a hand through his already ruffled hair.

“I think we all got hit,” Sehun mutters, dusting off his jacket before picking up his fallen bow.

“Not me,” you mumble, to which they hum in acknowledgement. You take this time to look over them carefully, making sure they’re all okay. You also allow your gaze to travel over the room one last time as you say these next words, “it looks like our radios are broken. We need to get out of here and contact-“

You cut yourself off as you inhale sharply, eyes widening slightly as you take in six new, yet familiar figures now standing on a ledge in front of you, looking down at your small group.

The others, noticing your stare, furrow their brows in confusion as they turn to look at what you’re currently so fixated on. Their eyes widen, and a few gasps escape their lips as they take in themselves standing on the ledge. Only, the six new figures seem to be wearing slightly different outfits. However, they all seem to have their gazes fixated solely on you.

“Aw, leaving us so soon, sweetheart?” One of them calls out, grins tugging at all their lips as a shiver runs down your spine. “The party’s only just begun.”

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Your Love is Deadly, It’s Like Fire

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy Rating: Teen+ Word Count: 8634 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Gai gets wounded badly when out on an important mission. Instead of continuing with the mission, Kakashi decides everyone needs to head back to Konoha to get Gai treated. Kakashi worries, Gai tries to lighten the mood, Tsunade just wishes people would listen to her. Warnings:

Hurt/Comfort

Canon-Typical Violence

Getting Together

Protective Hatake Kakashi

Author's Note: I seriously needed more Gai whump in the KakaGai fandom. There isn’t nearly enough of it (though the ones I have read have been fantastic!) This is partly inspired by zuotian’s fic, Somewhere Between Retribution and Recovery. If you’ve read that, then you’ll know what part I’m talking about (hint: it's the tent scene.)

I will admit, I haven’t finished Naruto Shippuden and I haven’t seen a single episode of Boruto (except for some of the KakaGai moments during their honeymoon vacation.) I’ve just recently started a rewatch and I’m still on just Naruto. So I might get some info wrong but I’m just going to claim artistic liberty. ;)

I really wanted this to be in Gai’s pov but then, as I was daydreaming about it, I realized that it wouldn’t work in his pov. So, Kakashi’s it is. Also, Kakashi and Gai are not in a relationship at the beginning of this. Their getting together is more subtle. By that, I mean they never actually state that they are starting a romantic relationship. It’s never made into a big deal basically.

I’m sorry for any ooc-ness in advance. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve written these two.

Please enjoy!

It’s not like Kakashi didn’t think it could happen. He is very much aware of his and his team’s mortality. He knows it will happen eventually. He just doesn’t want it to happen. The thought scares him. Not that he will ever admit that out loud, of course.

This was supposed to be an easy B-rank mission that very quickly and dramatically turned into an A-rank mission. It was him, Gai, Naruto, Sakura, and Shikamaru. A weird combination but they were all that were available. Sai is on a different mission and so is Choji and Ino. Gai tagged along because Kakashi requested him. It had sounded like from their briefing that they would need a taijutsu specialist. Now, Kakashi is regretting that decision.

“Damn it,” Kakashi rips off a bandage and presses into the wound at Gai’s side, watching as blood oozes out. Gai groans but he looks okay and coherent so far, despite all the blood loss. “I need to find Sakura. It won’t stop bleeding.”

Gai’s hands are shaking when he reaches for the already blood-soaked bandage. “I’ll hold it,” he breathes out.

Kakashi shakes his head, raindrops splashing into his eyes. “I can’t leave you alone. We’re still in enemy territory.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Tt.” Kakashi bites his bottom lip. He looks around, trying to find something to conceal Gai’s prone body but finds nothing. With an agitated sigh, he turns his attention back to Gai. “I’ll be right back.” He rushes off, not waiting for an answer.

This mission.

This mission was supposed to be easy.

Their mission was to find a low-rank rogue ninja who was proficient in taijutsu and apprehend him, bringing him back to Konoha. They didn’t know nor did they take into consideration that he would have formed his own small militia made up of various strong ninja, with one of them having a kekkei genkai, according to one of the other men.

Once they had reached their destination and had realized what was happening, Kakashi put out the orders, telling Gai to focus on the one they came for since he would be best matched with him. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was when their target split off from the rest, Gai in pursuit. He had then gotten severely injured when their target met up with another person, the one with the kekkei genkai it seemed, from the militia.

Gai had gotten stabbed.

He had gotten stabbed because Kakashi got careless and didn’t stop him from following. Kakashi should have known better than to let Gai follow, especially out of sight. He knew there were accomplices, so why… why did he let Gai go?

Because Gai is strong, that’s why. Because Gai can handle himself. Because Gai wouldn’t let something like this happen to himself.

Not unless he had been taken by surprise.

Gai never really has been that good with sensing others around him.

Kakashi bites into his bottom lip harder, drawing blood. He shouldn’t have allowed this to happen but the self-blame will have to wait until after Sakura heals him. Right now, he needs to focus. Quickly, Kakashi extends his senses, looking for Sakura’s chakra. He finds her on the ground, healing a wound on Naruto’s ankle.

He drops down beside her. “Sakura.”

“Kakashi-Sensei!” She stands. Perfect timing.

“Follow me.”

She stops him. “Shikamaru needs us.”

“Don’t worry, Sakura-Chan.” Naruto places a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go help him.”

Sakura nods. “Be careful.” She turns back to him. “Alright.”

Kakashi nods and then leads her back to where Gai is, hyper-aware of the fact that the rain is slowing their progress. The limbs on the trees are slippery and though it’s no problem for him who is a seasoned Jonin, for someone like Sakura it would be much more difficult for her to change her chakra accordingly to stick to the branches. She’s always been a fast learner, though, and soon they are making faster progress until Kakashi spots Gai lying on the ground.

There’s a pool of watery blood surrounding his body and Kakashi’s heart immediately jumps into his throat to make its new home there. He drops down hastily, mud and water splashing up onto his shins. “Gai!”

He approaches quickly, noticing how limp Gai’s hold is on the bandage. It’s weird to see how pale Gai’s tanned face is but there’s a grimace there so Kakashi knows he’s at least alive. He kneels down at Gai’s feet, watching as Sakura wastes no time in her healing.

She peels away Gai’s limp hand and the bandage to look at the wound. Her face draws taut in worry and Kakashi’s stomach clenches. As Sakura’s hands glow green over the wound, Kakashi watches Gai’s face. It looks pained, something Kakashi isn’t used to seeing on the man. It worries him.

It scares him.

“Kakashi-Sensei,” Sakura’s calm and controlled voice snaps him out of his thoughts. She’s not looking at him, all concentration on the wound. “Naruto and Shikamaru are going to need help. We’ve already got Gai-Sensei out of commission. We can’t have you out either.”

He looks at her. Stares really. Does she know he can’t just leave Gai that easily?

Kakashi’s hands are shaking.

He swallows.

He knows she’s right.

His hands won’t stop shaking.

He gives Gai a glance, feels the bile threaten to rise up, and then stands, balling his hands up into fists. He hopes she doesn’t notice their quivering.

“Right,” he says. “I’ll leave him to you.” And then he’s off.

He helps Naruto and Shikamaru take down the last two of the accomplices but they’ve lost the target and the one with the kekkei genkai. He doesn’t sense them anywhere either. He could call up his ninken to hopefully find a trace of their scent but Kakashi wants to regroup first. He tells the two boys to follow him and they meet back up with Sakura.

“Sensei,” Sakura says in greeting, her face grim.

“Gai?” he asks right away, peering around her body. He doesn’t look any better but at least the blood has stopped.

“I’ve healed the wound but…” She trails off, not meeting his eyes. “He lost a lot of blood and there’s something else. I think he might have been poisoned. I’m going to need to analyze his blood but I can’t do that here.” She shrugs. “I’ve given him an antidote just in case but I have a feeling this might be a poison we’ve never seen before.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows furrow. “The kekkei genkai.”

“What?” All three of them say at once.

“There was a rumor when Gai and I were teenagers that there was a ninja that could make special poison inside his body. All he had to do was scratch you and you would be infected.”

“Gai-Sensei wasn’t just scratched,” Sakura exhales loudly. “He was stabbed.”

“Yes, but if the user had coated his blade in his blood…” he trails off, letting the others fill in the blanks.

“What should we do, Kakashi-Sensei?” Naruto asks.

Shikamaru speaks before Kakashi can. “One of us can go back to Konoha with Gai-Sensei while the rest of us go after our target.”

He knows Shikamaru is right but… Kakashi watches Gai, shaking in pain. “How much longer do you think he has?”

Sakura’s lips draw into a straight line as she peers behind herself. “It’s hard to say. A couple days, maybe two… maybe three.”

It’s going to take them at least a day to get back to the village. He looks at Gai again, feeling his stomach churn with unease. Tsunade is going to be mad at him. “No. We all will go back now. Report to the Hokage and see what she wants us to do.”

“Sensei,” Sakura starts, looking back towards him. “He needs to rest a little. Get out of this rain.”

Kakashi nods in agreement. “Let’s move away from here, set up camp and rest for a few hours. Then we’ll move out.”

They do as instructed, Naruto helping Kakashi carry Gai, one arm slung over their shoulders on each side. They move away from that spot and travel several meters before landing. They set Gai down by a tree, propping him up. His shaking has stopped and his skin color is turning back to normal which makes Kakashi’s nerves ease a little.

Kakashi helps Shikamaru set up the two tents. They’re lucky they even have them. Shikamaru had said that it might rain during their mission and so had packed them with his stuff. It’s not very often they carry them, even if it is going to rain, opting to instead take cover in a cave or alcove. Shikamaru’s excuse was that it’s too troublesome to find a place like that. When Kakashi asked him if it wasn’t “troublesome” to put up tents, Shikamaru just sighed and mumbled to himself tiredly. Now, he puts them up without complaint.

Sakura volunteers to bring Gai into one of the tents. He’s awake now, barely, and is able to lean on Sakura as she guides him into the structure. She claims she wants to check him over again. Kakashi’s nerves spike once more but relax when she steps out of it, not looking too concerned.

She goes up to him. “I’ve told him to sleep. He’s going to need as much energy and strength he can gather for the journey home.” There’s a crease where her eyebrows knit together. “He lost a lot of blood and is in definite pain even though he’s pretending not to be. I tried to get him to take a blood replenishing pill and something for the pain but he refused.”

Kakashi glances towards the tent. Of course, Gai refused. “Give them to me. I’ll get him to take them.”

Sakura scowls. “I’m technically not supposed to force these things onto anyone.”

“Then it’s a good thing you wouldn’t be.” Kakashi holds out his hand and with a reluctant sigh, Sakura drops the pills in it. “Get some rest, Sakura. Have Naruto take the first watch. We’ll leave in a few hours” She nods and walks away, peering back at Kakashi and the tent before reaching Naruto and Shikamaru to tell them the plan.

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi enters the tent. He finds Gai lying on the ground, covered in a blanket. Despite poison pumping through his veins, he looks considerably okay. He’s no longer pale and his shaking has stopped. Kakashi wonders how much pain he’s actually in. Gai has always been fantastic at hiding that sort of thing.

Gai is staring at him as Kakashi crawls over. “I hear you’re being stubborn.”

“You know I don’t rely on that stuff,” Gai says, sounding tired. That’s the first giveaway that something is wrong, Kakashi assumes.

“Well,” Kakashi drawls. “I can either add these to your food unknowingly and you will have to be suspicious of which one it’s in for the rest of the night or,” he smirks under his mask, “you can just take them.”

Gai stares at him, probably trying to figure out just how serious Kakashi is, and then finally sighs, sitting up some and holding a hand out. “Fine,” he mumbles.

Kakashi smiles in triumph and hands the pills over. “They’re just to replenish your blood loss and help with pain anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

“Kakashi,” Gai says in warning but it doesn’t carry any weight to it.

Kakashi ignores him. “What happened?”

Gai finishes chewing the pills and lies back down on his back with a hard thump. “I was following the target when another shinobi came out of hiding. She took me by surprise. It was weird, Kakashi. I couldn’t sense her at all.”

“Well, it’s never been your strongest suit.”

“No,” Gai says seriously. “This was different. I should have been able to dodge her but…” Gai’s face scrunches contemplatively. “Did you get them?”

Kakashi shakes his head, shifting to get more comfortable. “No. We’re going back to the village to find out what the Hokage wants us to do.”

“That’s not like you.”

“You’ve been poisoned, Gai, Sakura needs-”

“No, Sakura can bring me back herself.” He tries to sit up and it worries Kakashi with how much effort it looks like it takes. “Then you, Naruto, and Shikamaru can get the target.”

Kakashi shakes his head again. “I’m not abandoning you.”

“You’re not, you’re-”

“Gai, we’re all going back. I’m the leader, remember?” This shuts Gai up who stares at him again. “You need to sleep,” Kakashi finally says after a long pause of silence. “We’ll be leaving again in a few hours.”

Gai lies back down, pulling the blanket up to his chin. They stare at each other until Kakashi is sighing and shucking off his flak jacket. It’s soaked and heavy anyway, and he rolls his shoulders once it’s on the ground. Next, he takes off his Hitai-ate, throwing it beside his flak jacket. Gai is still staring at him and Kakashi can feel his whole body heating up.

He stands up as best he can inside the tent, pokes his head out to where Naruto is sitting, keeping watch. “Naruto.” He waits until he’s got Naruto’s attention. “I’m going to keep watch over Gai. He needs to sleep. No one is allowed in here for the time being.”

“Got it, Kakashi-Sensei!” Naruto solutes him and then turns back around to continue his vigil.

Kakashi slips back into the tent and zips the entrance up. He goes and sits back down next to Gai who is still watching him. Hesitating, Kakashi slips his mask off, ringing it out from the water and then setting it beside his flak jacket as well to dry. He can still hear the rain pouring outside when he lies down on his side, facing Gai.

“Stop staring and go to sleep,” he tells Gai.

A smile breaks out on Gai’s face before he, too, salutes him and closes his eyes. Kakashi shakes his head at his friend and watches him. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but at some point he falls asleep, despite wanting to keep an eye on Gai to make sure he was going to be okay. Apparently he had been more tired than he had thought.

Kakashi startles awake by the sound of chirping birds. When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Gai staring at him. He yawns and stretches. It doesn’t sound like it’s raining anymore. “How long have you been awake?”

There’s a faint sheen of sweat coating Gai’s skin. The second clue that something isn’t right. “Not long.” A small smile appears on Gai’s face, warm and soft. “Kakashi?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Kakashi looks at him, confused. “For what?”

“For trusting me.” Gai reaches over and traces a finger down Kakashi’s cheek.

Kakashi looks away, his whole face heating up. “It’s not the first time, Gai.”

“Not like this,” Gai says. “This is different.” Kakashi meets Gai’s eyes, swallowing thickly. “You’re beautiful, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sits up, batting Gai’s hand away gently. “Haven’t I told you not to say that to me?”

“But it’s true.”

“This really isn’t the time.” Kakashi reaches over and pulls his mask back on. It’s still damp but nothing Kakashi can’t deal with. Next comes his Hitai-ate and then his flak jacket. “I’m going to go see if the others are ready.”

Kakashi can feel Gai’s wide smile as he leaves the tent. He shouldn’t allow Gai’s teasing to get to him so much but even so, his cheeks feel hot as he exits. He’s greeted by the sight of Shikamaru’s back when he finally gets back outside. The sun is bright and there’s a slight breeze. Should make the travel back home easier, even with an injured Gai. Kakashi walks up to Shikamaru, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Get Naruto and Sakura. We’re heading out now.” Shikamaru nods at him and heads towards the other tent while Kakashi goes back to the one with Gai. He kneels down beside Gai, hooking one of Gai’s arms around his shoulders. “You ready?”

“Hmm,” Gai hums and Kakashi heaves him up. They stumble a little awkwardly out of the tent but Gai can move mostly on his own for now, at least.

They have to wait for the others to pack up the tent but it doesn’t take them long. Soon, they are making their way down the main path back to Konoha. Sakura, Naruto, and Shikamaru walk ahead of Gai and Kakashi but the pace is still slow going. Gai leans heavily onto Kakashi and Kakashi supports him with an arm around his waist, gripping his hip tightly in order to keep Gai’s balance. It’s worrisome to see Gai in such a state.

Just a few hours into their journey and Gai is panting heavily, shaking with every step, and sweating profusely. He’s got a hand on his left side where he had gotten stabbed. Their pace has slowed significantly.

“Gai,” Kakashi starts, worried. He can feel his own heart beating in his chest rapidly with no sign of slowing down. “How much are you hurting right now?”

“I’m fine, Kakashi,” he answers stubbornly, gritting his teeth.

“Don’t lie to me, Gai,” Kakashi reprimands, tightening his grip. “How much?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kakashi stops walking, shifting so he can look at Gai but still keep him balanced. “Let me see.” Gai tsks but lifts the hem of his jumpsuit anyway. His entire side is black and blue, no doubt from the poison. Kakashi’s eye widens, heart now jumping into his throat to pound incessantly there instead. “Sakura!”

The group ahead of them stop and turn around to face them. Sakura is by their side in an instant, looking at Gai. Her lips are pursed and she touches the area lightly. Gai just barely hides a flinch. “How much does this hurt, Gai-Sensei?” She gives him a pointed look. “And I need the truth for an accurate reading.”

Gai rolls his eyes. “It’s really not that bad.”

“You have too much of a high pain tolerance,” Kakashi mumbles.

“Can you keep going?” Sakura asks, ignoring Kakashi’s comment and Gai nods, giving her a wide smile and thumbs up with the hand that isn’t wrapped around Kakashi’s shoulders.

“Of course I can!” he announces.

It irritates Kakashi when Gai pushes himself so much like this but when Sakura gives him a questioning look, all he can do is nod his head in defeat. Sakura straightens from where she was leaning over to look at Gai’s side, allowing Gai to lower his shirt. “Okay, but if you need to stop, tell us.”

“Nonsense,” Gai says, forcing a smile.

They continue on their way, Gai continuing to pant heavily. By their next hour, they’re practically going at a snail’s pace. Gai’s head hangs low, almost his entire body weight leaning on Kakashi. Kakashi adjusts his hold and Gai stiffens with a pain filled groan, causing Kakashi to stop his movements. Gai sways in his arms.

“Kakashi…” Gai says quietly, suddenly leaning his forehead onto Kakashi’s shoulder. He can feel the heat radiating off of Gai and the sweat through his jumpsuit. No doubt he has formed a fever.

“It’s alright, Gai, I’ve got you.” Once more he calls to the others. “Let’s take a break,” he says when they come back over to him. They all nod in agreement and Kakashi leads Gai over to a tree to lean against, with Sakura following. They’ll be out of the sun this way as well. “Here.” He helps Gai sit down on the ground and then sits beside him. Gai immediately leans into him, head flopping back onto his shoulder.

Sakura takes off one of her gloves and holds it up against Gai’s forehead. “He’s burning up,” she says to Kakashi, tone low.

“I thought as much.”

She digs around in her pouch, procuring a small pill. She hands it to Kakashi. “This will help with the fever… hopefully. Since it’s from the poison…” She doesn’t finish her sentence and Kakashi doesn’t need her too. “We at least need to try and get it down. Fevers can be dangerous.”

Kakashi nods, looking at Gai. “I’ll take care of him,” he says and means it. He won’t let anything happen to Gai. Not on his watch. Sakura watches him carefully and must find what she is looking for because she smiles at him and then gets up to join the others.

Kakashi nudges Gai. “Gai, I need you to take this.”

Gai lifts his head, peering at the pill with unfocussed eyes. “What is it?”

“You have a fever. This will help.” He places it in Gai’s weak, unsteady hand. He hates seeing how it shakes. “Don’t try arguing with me.”

“Wasn’t,” Gai mumbles and pops the pill in his mouth, chewing slowly. He then rests his head back on Kakashi’s shoulder. They’re silent for a few seconds before Gai starts talking quietly. “Hey, Kakashi?”

“You should try and get some sleep. We can’t stay here long.”

“Do you remember when I told you I could open all eight gates?” Gai continues, ignoring Kakashi’s suggestion.

Kakashi sighs heavily. Gai always ignored his suggestions. “Of course, I do.”

“You were really mad at me,” Gai complains. “Do you remember that?”

Kakashi nods. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to use them.”

“Because you thought I would use all eight and die,” Gai points out the obvious, not that Kakashi will admit to it. Gai chuckles. “You’re not as hard to read as you like to believe you are, my friend.”

“Maybe to you.” He sighs, shifting to get more comfortable. Gai is looking more and more tired. “We’ve known each other for a long time.”

“Hmm,” Gai hums in agreement, closing his eyes. “You’re not going to lose me, Rival.”

“Don’t say things you can’t promise,” Kakashi says, frowning.

“You won’t,” Gai says again, conviction lacing his tone.

Kakashi shakes his head in disbelief. “How can you say that?”

Gai takes a deep, shuddering breath, glancing up at Kakashi. “Our rivalry is eternal.”

“Gai…”

“It is,” Gai says pointedly. “It’s eternal so you’ll never lose me and I’ll never lose you. Because I said it, it’s true.”

Kakashi peeks down at him, amused by Gai’s reasoning. “I hate you.”

Gai’s mouth pulls into a large grin, all teeth and sparkle despite the sickly look to him. It makes Kakashi want to kiss him. Instead, he leans his head down and touches his forehead to Gai’s, closing his eyes against the sting in his eye. He just hopes Gai is right. That they will never lose each other.

Kakashi pulls away. “Get some sleep, Gai.”

“Right,” Gai sighs out, closing his eyes again. It doesn’t take long for the man to fall asleep.

Kakashi watches him. He seems peaceful in sleep, which Kakashi is thankful for. He reaches up, cards his fingers once, twice in Gai’s hair. It’s soft. He doesn’t know what he would do if he lost him. If Gai, the one who has always been there for him, by his side, died. The thought instantly makes Kakashi feel sick.

Gai is his everything.

They rest there for about two hours, Kakashi never leaving Gai’s side and Sakura coming to check on Gai’s temperature every half hour. The pill hasn’t lowered it at all but, according to Sakura, it hasn’t risen either. Kakashi is glad but he knows now that Gai has a fever, the trek home is going to be even more difficult.

Kakashi is just starting to doze off himself when Sakura comes back over. She places her hand on Gai’s forehead, who hasn’t woken since he fell asleep. “Still no change but we should probably start thinking about moving again. The sooner we get back to the village, the better.”

Kakashi nods in agreement and waits for Sakura to walk away before he attempts to wake Gai up. “Gai.” He shakes Gai’s shoulder a little. Gai groans, face scrunching in pain. “Gai, it’s time to move.”

“Okay,” Gai sighs, sounding even more tired despite his rest. They stand, with Kakashi mostly having to actually pick Gai up to get him off the ground. He’s still sweating badly and he’s out of breath along with being unsteady on his feet. Gai takes a deep breath, lifts his head, and smiles. “Ready.”

Kakashi briefly thumps his forehead against Gai’s temple before starting to walk, going even slower than they were going before. It doesn’t seem to strain Gai all that much, at least not at first, but Kakashi knows him. He knows how much effort Gai is putting in to make it seem like he is okay, that he can do this. With every exhale, Gai’s whole body shakes. Kakashi pulls him closer to him.

Gai watches Sakura, Naruto, and Shikamaru who are ahead of them.

Kakashi watches Gai.

“Kakashi,” Gai pants.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Kakashi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“I should be able to go faster,” Gai says, his own eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

Kakashi peers in front of them at the backs of the rest of the group. “You don’t need to apologize for that, Gai.”

“I can do better,” Gai complains. “I should be able to do better.”

“Your worth isn’t based on what you can and can’t do, Gai.”

“Isn’t it?” Gai looks at him, blinks slowly. “Wasn’t it?”

“When we were kids?” Kakashi asks, clarifying. Gai opens his mouth to answer but trips over his own feet before he can. Kakashi reaches out with the hand that isn’t already wrapped around Gai to catch him. “Careful.” Kakashi looks at him. “If you’re that desperate to go faster, I could always carry you.”

Gai laughs. “I wouldn’t let you embarrass yourself in front of your students like that.”

“You did when you carried me back from Suna,” Kakashi points out, continuing to walk. They’ve fallen farther behind now but he doesn’t mind. It just means the kids won’t be able to hear them talking.

“That was me embarrassing myself,” Gai comments. “I embrace it.”

Kakashi studies him, watching Gai’s expression as it turns sad. It’s not a look he often sees on Gai’s face and when he does, he knows it’s bad. “You’re not an embarrassment to me, Gai.”

Gai huffs. “Don’t lie.”

“You’re not.” Kakashi smiles at him, making sure Gai sees it. “I love you.”

Gai stares at him, not surprised but not knowingly either. He turns away, face turning red though Kakashi isn’t sure if it’s from being flustered or if it’s from the fever. “You’re an idiot.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Kakashi asks playfully.

Gai sighs again. “You and I, Kakashi, we had to prove ourselves when we were kids. In different ways but it was still always there. Trying to gain people’s approval. You were the genius who had to live up to the name. I was the loser who had to show I wasn’t.” Gai looks at him once more. “Our worth is based on what we can do.”

“You’re wrong,” Kakashi says plainly. “Everyone is worth something. Everyone means something, no matter what they can do.” He smiles at Gai again. “You taught me that.”

Gai watches him and Kakashi keeps smiling until Gai smiles back. “Thank you, Kakashi.”

“I told you, I’ve got you.” Kakashi lets his eye turn soft in order to convey the feelings towards Gai that he is feeling. “I always will.” Kakashi stops and helps maneuver Gai to behind him. “Now, let me carry you.”

Gai wraps his arms around Kakashi’s neck and Kakashi hoists him up onto his back, holding Gai under his thighs. “I’m not as light as I used to be.”

Kakashi adjusts his hold until it feels alright. “This is fine.” Gai presses his forehead into the back of Kakashi’s neck before shifting and letting his chin rest on Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi continues to follow the others once they are situated. “The last time I carried you like this, was when you opened the seventh gate for the first time.”

“You were really mad at me then, too.”

“Because you could have died.”

Gai laughs. “I knew it.”

Kakashi shakes his head. “Gai.” Gai hums to let Kakashi know he’s listening. “You’ve always been there for me. You’ve always been by my side and had my back. So, no matter your skill level or what you can and cannot do, I don’t care. You mean a lot to me, Gai.”

Gai is quiet for a long time, which is unusual and Kakashi almost wonders if he had fallen asleep, but then Gai finally says, “You mean a lot to me too, Kakashi.” He buries his face into the crook of Kakashi’s neck. Kakashi swears he feels a kiss being pressed there. “More than anything.”

A ghost of a smile threatens to appear on Kakashi’s face but he resists the urge, instead opting to say, “Get some sleep, Gai. I’ll carry you the rest of the way home.”

“Just like before,” Gai says softly, nodding off.

Kakashi’s face grows soft. “Just like before.”

It’s not hard to carry Gai back and their pace improves with doing so. They stop only a couple of times to allow Sakura to check his temperature which hasn’t changed and by the time they get back to Konoha, it’s already night. Kakashi brings Gai straight to the hospital, Sakura with them, and she gets right to work on finding out what type of poison was used and making an antidote. As much as Kakashi doesn’t want to leave Gai’s side, he knows he has no choice. He leaves Sakura to it, heading for the Hokage office where Naruto and Shikamaru should be waiting.

The two shinobi are already in Tsunade’s office when he arrives. She lets him enter, telling him that they were waiting for him. He apologizes but stands his ground firmly. The Hokage doesn’t look happy with him, as Kakashi had expected to happen.

“What happened?” Tsunade asks, looking to all three of them but giving Kakashi a pointed look. She wants him to explain and him alone.

He does as he’s told, not giving any hint to regretting his decision for all of them to come back to Konoha. Tsunade still doesn’t look happy and she asks him why he thought it would be a good idea to just let the enemy escape. When he opens his mouth to defend himself, Shikamaru beats him to it, obviously having been thinking of this for a while.

“The consensus is that the kekkei genkai user can produce poison inside his body. If more of us got infected, then it would stem bad for the mission either way,” Shikamaru explains, looking bored. “All of us coming back means we can go after the target again once an antidote is made. That way, if one of us gets infected with the poison, then we can just take the antidote right there and then.” He shrugs. “It’s less troublesome.”

Tsunade is biting her bottom lip, looking at Shikamaru contemplatively. Finally, she tsks, sits back, and crosses her arms. “Very well. We’ll wait for an antidote to be made by Sakura.” She pauses, looking the team over. “I’m going to send different shinobi. You three, get some rest.”

“Eh!” Naruto immediately complains. “But baachan, we should be the ones to go back!”

Tsunade scowls and Shikamaru sighs. “Naruto, I’m not in the mood to have this argument with you. It’s better if you stay here and rest. It won’t do if I send you out there with only half your energy.”

“But I’m already rested!” Naruto yells, holding a fist up in a way to show he’s ready and pumped to keep going. “I have a lot of energy left!”

“Then go take it out on some training!” Tsunade yells back, standing up and placing her hands down firmly on her desk. “Now get out of my office.”

Naruto, shoving his hands into his pockets, turns and leaves as he grumbles under his breath. Shikamaru follows with a tired sigh, muttering, “How troublesome.”

Kakashi stays put and waits for the office door to be shut behind the two. He hears Tsunade sit back down. “What is it Kakashi?”

Kakashi turns back to the Hokage. “In the event of possibly angering you again, I have a request.” Tsunade’s eyebrow lifts in question. “I would like to be part of the team that goes after the kekkei genkai user.”

It’s Tsunade’s turn to sigh heavily, leaning forward to place her elbow on her desk and rest her chin in the palm of her hand. “You too, huh?” She tsks. “This is about Gai?” Kakashi stays quiet. If he admits to such a thing, she won’t let him. “Kakashi, you of all people should know that revenge isn’t the answer.”

“It’s not about revenge,” he says, partially true. “This was my mission that I failed.”

“So you want to make up for it,” Tsunade states. “And it absolutely has nothing to do with Gai.”

“Right,” he says and they both know it’s a lie but Tsunade just sighs once more, looking at him with piercing eyes.

“Fine.” She sits up. “Once Sakura has an antidote made and we find the location of the two targets, I’ll gather up a team with you as the leader. For now, go get some rest.”

“Thank you, Hokage-sama.” Kakashi bows and then turns to leave.

“I mean it, Kakashi,” Tsunade says, stopping him. He glances over his shoulder at her. “Rest. I need you at top form for this mission. Don’t go to the hospital and work yourself up waiting for results on Gai.”

She knows him too well and not well enough. He waves goodbye to her with a smile and leaves, heading straight to the hospital despite Tsunade’s warning. He asks the nurse at the desk if he can see Gai and she tells him he’s not allowed any visitors at the moment. So, he goes and sits down in one of the chairs in the waiting room. He sits there for hours as he waits for any news about his best friend. He’s so nervous and worried about the results that he can’t even focus on the Icha Icha book that he is carrying in his pouch.

He doesn’t know how many hours have passed but eventually Sakura appears in front of him with her hands on her hips. “I have a message from Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi guesses Tsunade knows him better than he had initially thought. “Oh?”

“She told you to go rest.”

“I am resting.”

“Not here.”

Kakashi shrugs, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “How’s Gai?”

“I’ve come up with an antidote that will hopefully work.” She looks tired. “Only time will tell but I’m pretty confident in it. Anyway, Tsunade-sama wants you in her office. Apparently they’ve found the two men that got away on our mission.”

Kakashi nods. “So no time to see Gai, then, eh?”

Sakura shakes her head, face scrunching in disapproval. She gets more and more like Tsunade every day. “Even if there was, I wouldn’t let you. He needs to rest, Kakashi-sensei,” she reprimands. “Let the antidote do its work. Stop worrying.”

“I guess that’s it then.” He salutes her, feigning disinterest even though he knows Sakura sees right through it. “Bye bye.” He leaves in a puff of smoke, Sakura’s huff not going unheard.

When he enters the Hokage’s office for the second time, Tsunade glares at him. “I told you to rest.”

“I did.”

She tsks, knowing full well that he isn’t telling the truth but ignores it anyway. She turns her attention to the rest of the people in the room as Kakashi takes his place next to them. Neji, Ino, and Shino stand there, waiting for instructions. “This the team?” Kakashi asks.

Tsunade nods. “Ino is going with you for her medical ninjutsu. Since you said Gai couldn’t sense the kekkei genkai user, I thought Neji’s Byakugan would come in handy plus he is another jonin. Shino is going in case you need him to drain any chakras from either of the two.” Kakashi nods in approval. It is a good selection. “Here,” Tsunade places a small needle on her desk. “This is the antidote to the poison that the kekkei genkai user creates. Sakura unfortunately only had enough time to make two, one for Gai and one for this mission.” Kakashi picks up the needle and places it in his pouch. “We don’t have much time so you need to move out right away.”

Tsunade gives them the location of their targets. “We’ll get them this time, Hokage-sama,” Kakashi promises.

Tsunade’s mouth purses. “Don’t be reckless, Kakashi.”

Kakashi smiles at her. “I never am.” He then leaves with the rest of the group.

It would seem the enemy is headed towards the village, possibly to get revenge or wage a war on them for what Kakashi’s group had done to them earlier. Due to this, it doesn’t take them long to find the enemy, especially when using Neji’s Byakugan. They land out of sight and view the area that the two are resting at currently.

“Shino, Ino, you go for the original target. Neji, I want you to back me up with the kekkei genkai user,” Kakashi orders.

“Which is that?” Ino asks.

Kakashi gestures with his chin. “The man is your target.”

“Got it,” she says.

“So then that leaves-” Neji starts but Kakashi doesn’t wait for him to finish.

“Let’s go!”

They jump out of their hiding place, attacking immediately so not to give the enemy time to prepare. Despite this, the kekkei genkai user jumps up and produces a kunai to block Kakashi’s. They grapple with the kunai for a few seconds before jumping apart, the clang of the two knives loud.

Kakashi glances over to Ino and Shino who are in the midst of their own fight. When he confidently sees the two are holding their own, Kakashi turns back to his target, revealing his Sharingan. The woman in front of him laughs.

“Oh? Pitting me up against two eye users?” She crosses her arms. “How unfair.” She glances over to her companion. “Are you sure those two will be okay on their own? Kenji-san is pretty powerful.” As if to punctuate her point, Ino screams and is flung back quite a ways.

Kakashi doesn’t even flinch. “They’ll be fine,” he says, hoping he’s right.

The woman smiles at him. “If you’re sure.” She then does a couple hand signs and disappears.

Kakashi tries to find where she is using the Sharingan but can’t sense her anywhere. This must be what Gai was talking about. “Neji.”

“Byakugan!” Neji is quiet for a few seconds, the only sound being heard is the fight that is happening between Ino, Shino, and Kenji. Finally, he announces, “She’s over there!” He points into the woods. Kakashi still doesn’t see her but trusts Neji’s eyes.

He’s about to follow when he hears Shino grunt in pain and Ino screams again. He stops and looks over at them. They are both on the ground, wounded but nothing life threatening. Still, they look like they may need some help after all. “Neji, you stay here and assist them.”

Neji seems alarmed by this. “But-”

“I’ll be fine. Help them.” And then he’s off in the direction Neji had pointed in. It doesn’t take him long to get to a small clearing. He’s not sure why this woman wanted to be separated from her companion unless she didn’t want to risk having to fight all of them at once.

He looks around the clearing, suspicious as to why she hasn’t attacked him yet. He can’t sense her at all and-

Kakashi grunts as he just barely dodges an attack from the ground, a kunai slicing through his side. If he hadn't moved in time, he’d have been in the same predicament that Gai had found himself. He backflips out of the way, holding a hand to his side once he’s on the ground.

The woman laughs in front of him. “I can conceal myself perfectly. For you to dodge that attack… you’re good. A lot better than that loser in the green.”

Kakashi grits his teeth, resisting the urge to say anything back to her in irritation. He eyes the kunai. There’s blood that is dripping from her wrist down onto the kunai, covering it. The color of her blood is off, darker and more purple. So, that’s how she gets the poison onto the knife, as Kakashi had suspected. Which means, he’s already been poisoned himself.

She’s laughing again. “Do you know who I am?”

Kakashi meets her eyes. “I don’t really care.”

“Well, aren’t you rude.” She scowls. “I am Tadame and I possess the kekkei genkai that allows me to change my blood into poison.”

Kakashi sighs, feigning boredom. “Why do you people always feel the need to explain yourselves?”

Tadame huffs, annoyed. “Fine, let’s get this over with then. Shall we?” She disappears once more, the only sound around Kakashi being the wind.

He lifts his hand from his wound. It’s bleeding profusely with no sign of it clotting anytime soon. Kakashi thinks back to how much blood Gai had lost. The poison must prevent the blood from clotting, keeping it thinned out to speed up the process of the person bleeding out and for the poison to travel through the body easier. It’s an interesting way of doing things, considering bloodletting is a common practice of extracting poison from the body. Either way, Kakashi doesn’t have time to dwell on it. By the way Gai, someone who has a high tolerance for many things, reacted to the poison, Kakashi’s only got a few minutes before the poison starts to take effect. He doesn’t want to use the antidote quite yet, just in case he gets cut again.

“You know,” Tadame’s voice carries to him in the wind. “It’s not just my blood that will poison you. I can just scratch you and get the job done. Though less effective, I must confess.”

She appears in front of him suddenly, swiping her kunai down to cut Kakashi in the face. He brings his own kunai up just in time, blocking her blow. He understands now why Gai couldn’t dodge her. He can barely keep up while using the Sharingan. Without that, he’d be hopeless. She goes to swipe him in the face once again, but this time with her long nails. He jumps back before she can, his back hitting a tree. At the same time, he throws three kunai, each with an explosive tag on them.

They blow up on impact and Kakashi waits for the smoke and dirt to dissipate in order to see if he got her. He has a feeling it won’t be so easy. His side is on fire and he’s now panting, starting to feel the effects of the poison and blood loss. There is no body when everything settles.

Tadame giggles and Kakashi searches for her. “You really are hopeless. I’ve heard good things about the Copy Ninja. Is this all you can do?” She strikes at him from behind, causing him to duck. The blood soaked kunai cuts some strands of his hair. Gai isn’t going to like that. “I’m disappointed!”

She keeps striking at him, causing Kakashi to continuously dodge. His vision goes blurry for a second, making Kakashi stagger and Tadame gets a hit on him, slicing through his arm. Kakashi groans in pain, reaching up to the wound. His blood immediately covers his hand. He needs to find a way to end this quickly or else he’s not going to last.

Tadame laughs, twirling the kunai. “Pathetic.” She charges and Kakashi jumps away, throwing more kunai with explosive tags. As they fly through the air towards her, he does the signs for his Chidori. He staggers as he lands on his feet but keeps his footing, immediately going into a charge of his own as the tags explode around them.

“Chidori!” he yells as he approaches. Tadame is already in the process of escaping the explosion and, Kakashi having anticipated that, lunges at her, catching her off guard. His chidori clips her in the right shoulder as she tries to dodge, splattering her blood over Kakashi’s arm and rendering her arm useless. Doing so, however, gets Kakashi close enough for her to grab a hold of his arm with her good hand and dig her fingernails into him, holding him in place.

“You bastard!” she screams, leaning in to bite him. Kakashi kicks at her stomach, making her go flying and dragging her fingernails across his arm as he is ripped free of her grasp.

Tadame staggers to her feet, blood pouring out of her shoulder. Kakashi pants where he stands, stomach lurching with nausea and eyesight going blurry again. He was close. If he can just get close to her again then maybe…

“I’m going to kill you!” she howls menacingly and charges.

Kakashi leaps into the air, feels the world spin around him, and reaches into his pouch. He doesn’t have much time left. At this rate he’ll… he digs out the antidote just as Tadame changes course and jumps after him, an angry scream leaving her mouth as she aims her kunai. He doesn’t have the strength or the reaction time to dodge her attack this time. He has to rely on this.

He plunges the needle into his thigh just as her kunai stabs into him. She grins as they fall to the ground but Kakashi wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer to him. It digs the kunai into him more, causing him to flinch, but he needs to keep her still long enough to do his last move. They land and she tries to pull away but Kakashi can already feel the antidote working, restoring some of his strength. He holds her there, refusing to let go.

“What?” she asks in surprise, still struggling to pull away. “How are you-”

Kakashi’s eyebrows furrow in anger, his nose scrunching, and mouth turning into a scowl under his mask. “You hurt the one person I am the closest to.” Kakashi lifts up the hand that isn’t holding her in place, lightning crackling all around his palm. “The person I care about more than anything else.”

“What?” Tadame’s eyes widen, realizing what is about to happen.

“And you’re going to die for that.” He drives his hand forward.

“No!” Tadame screams, eyes staring at him in pure fury.

Kakashi ignores her and thrusts his hand through her chest. Her blood splashes up onto his face but he pays it no mind as he watches her take her last breath and the light goes out in her eyes. When he knows for certain she is dead, he drops her body and pulls out the kunai from his side, groaning in pain. He looks down at his wounds. The antidote must be doing its job. His cuts and scratches are starting to clot now.

Pressing a hand to his side, over the stab wound, he sits down and waits for Neji, Ino, and Shino to join him, hoping that they won’t need his assistance. He wouldn’t be any good to them in this state. He looks up at the sky. The sun is starting to set.

He wants to go see Gai.

The sound of rustling in the bushes catches his attention and he’s on high alert again until Ino comes rushing out and to his side. “Kakashi-sensei!” She kneels down beside him and starts to heal his stab wound.

Shino and Neji look around the small clearing. “It’s done then?” Neji asks.

Kakashi nods. “Kenji?”

“Dead,” Shino answers and holds up a bag that Kakashi presumes has his head in it.

Kakashi looks towards Tadame’s body. “Let’s take her too. We’ll want to study her body.”

Neji and Shino nod in understanding. It takes a few more minutes before Ino stands, having finished healing his wounds. “Are you alright, Kakashi-sensei?”

“Hmm,” he hums, standing up. He stumbles a little, getting a bit dizzy, but Ino steadies him with a hand on his arm. “I took the antidote. I’ll be perfectly fine soon.” He looks back to the sky. It’s almost dark. “Let’s get home.”

Kakashi wraps Tadame up and then lifts her body onto his back. They walk home, all four of them feeling exhausted. When they do get back, they head straight to the Hokage’s office, Kakashi dropping Tadame’s body on the floor next to her desk and Neji dropping Kenji’s head onto her desk.

She scowls at Kakashi’s appearance. “You’re getting blood on my floor.”

Kakashi shrugs nonchalantly. “Eh, it was a bit tougher than expected.” He turns more serious. “Some of this is Tadame’s, the kekkei genkai user, blood. I thought some could be collected and analyzed. I’m not sure if the blood in her body turns to normal after she dies.”

Tsunade stands and approaches Kakashi, looking contemplative. “So the kekkei genkai user was a female?” Kakashi nods in confirmation.

“Only Gai saw her so it makes sense only he knew,” Kakashi comments.

Tsunade hums, staring at the purple blood on Kakashi’s mask. She waves her hand and an ANBU member appears. “Take a sample of this blood and send it to a lab to be tested and analyzed. Take the body and Kenji’s head with you.”

“Understood!” The ANBU member does as told, disappearing shortly after with Tadame’s body and Kenji’s head.

The four of them then go into a debriefing, Tsunade looking displeased at learning that Kakashi fought the kekkei genkai user by himself, but pleased with the results nonetheless. She sighs when they are done. “Alright, the four of you get some rest. You’ll have a couple days off.” Ino, Shino, and Neji all nod and turn to leave the room. Kakashi turns to follow but is called back by Tsunade. “Kakashi.”

“Yes?”

“Before you go to the hospital, go home and at least clean yourself up.” Her eyes soften and she leans her chin in her palm, not unlike earlier in the day. “I’m sure Gai would appreciate you not having blood all over you when you see him.”

Kakashi’s heart starts beating fast in his chest and he can feel his ears heating up. He supposes he underestimated Tsunade if he thought he could hide his feelings from her. “Understood.” He leaves the office then, heading back to his apartment to take a quick shower.

Once done, he heads straight to the hospital. Visiting hours are over already but it’s not too hard to figure out what room Gai is in. He jumps up to the window and opens it silently, slipping into the room.

Gai is asleep, resting on his back with his limbs flared out. Kakashi smiles warmly down at him, reaching out to brush some hair out of Gai’s face. It causes Gai to stir, his breath hitching and he slowly opens his eyes. “K… Kakashi?”

Kakashi sits down on the edge of the bed, pressing into Gai’s side. “Hey, Gai.”

Gai smiles up at him. “I didn’t die.”

Kakashi runs a hand through Gai’s hair and down the side of his face. “No, you didn’t.”

Gai’s grin is growing larger, blinding in the dark. “We’ll be eternal rivals yet!”

Kakashi nods, leaning closer. “Yes, we will.”

“Plenty of competitions to still do.”

“Hmm.”

“Kakashi, I lov-”

Kakashi pulls down his mask and kisses him.

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: This ended up being super long… oops…

I wasn’t actually planning on it turning out that they would have to go back and defeat those two enemies but the story kind of drove its own plot forward, taking control of my writing.

I hope I made it clear enough in the story that Gai using she/her pronouns while everyone else used he/his pronouns for the kekkei genkai user was on purpose. It’s another thing I wasn’t actually going to explicitly say in the story, but I didn’t want people to think it was a writing mistake so I added in an explanation anyway.

I hope you all enjoyed this story! Thank you all for reading!!

#KakaGai #GaiKaka #Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Might Guy #Gai Maito #Guy Might #Kakashi Hatake #Naruto #Naruto Shippuden #Your Love is Deadly It’s Like Fire #My Fanfiction

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anaking-streetwalker · 4 years

Text

So What If You’ve Got a Little AI in Your Head (part one)

Summary: Noble Six is critically wounded while on a mission with the rest of the Noble Team.

Let me know if you’d like to see more of this!

TW: cannon-typical violence, gore, swearing, overall crude language, medical procedures

I felt it in my bones, in my gut, before I saw it. I had pulled a plasma sword out of the torso of an Elite before I turned around to see the final enemy.

A grunt.

‘Easy enough,’ I had supposed.

Before I saw the two grenades in his hands. And the fact that it was too close for me to do anything about.

It happened in slow motion.

All of the vertebrae in my back popped. It was a nice feeling for a moment before I was thrown against the wall, my visor cracked. God it was hot. The grunt’s body flew in all directions and it was a little amusing before I realized ‘holy shit I’m about to die and I’m going to be alone’.

A buzz in my ear.

I swatted at it before I realized that it was Emile in my comms.

“Six, you okay?”

“Kamikaze grunt. I’m hit.”

“How bad?”

I was quiet for a moment. “Bad.”

“I mean hey,” I coughed. (It hurt.) “At least you’ll be getting rid of me.” A sigh from Emile. It wasn’t like it was a lie, a lot of people even within my own fireteam weren’t a huge fan of me.

Silence.

Then Jun.

“How many hostiles surrounding you?”

“None. All threats in the township neutralized.”

“Can you see any emergency medpacks?”

“Yea, across the room from me. Can’t move.” I didn’t know if it was my armor or damage to my spine that kept me from crawling to the medpacks.

“I’m on my way.”

“No, Jun, it’s oka—”

The comm clicked off and I slowly looked around at my surroundings. The plasma blade I had stolen from the covenant was dislodged from the Elite’s chest where I had planted it minutes earlier. Several Grunts and Jackals lay dead on the ground.

I finally glanced at my armor diagnostics. Not good.

Faint footsteps approached me and I recognized Jun as he grabbed three medpacks from the wall across from me. He hurriedly ran over to me and popped open the first medpack.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Lots of places,” I whispered. He placed his hands on either side of my helmet and carefully lifted it off of my head. Blood was caked onto my scalp, and I could feel where my skull had cracked open against the wall. My head lolled to the side and Jun lightly tapped my cheek as he began to spray biofoam.

“Hey, no no no, you can’t fall asleep on me here. What’s that poem? The one you always read. Tell me about it.”

“Do not go gen- gentle into that g-good night,” I groaned.

“You’re doing good, Six.”

The biofoam wasn’t helping. It never helped much.

“Old age should b-burn and rave at cl-close of day, rage, r-rage against the dyin-dying of the light.”

He maneuvered me around to place bandages and emergency meds on my head.

“Rage?”

“Though wise m-men at their e-end know d-dark is right, b-because their w-words ha-have forked-d no light-lightning they d-do not g-go gentle into th-that good n-nght.”

“Don’t waste this sh-shit on me. Won’t make it m-much longer.” I brought up my hand to my neck and pulled off my tags, shaking.

“You did good, J-Jun. Real good. Th-Thanks for ev-everything.”

He pushed my hand away from him and continued working.

“Don’t talk like that, Six. You’re going to get through this, okay? Need you to focus on that for me.”

There was so much blood. Too much blood for me not to die right then and there. It was getting blurry.

“Noble Actual, we need emergency medical evac now. Six is hit.”

Silence for a moment as he awaited their response.

“Yes he’s going to make it. I can feel it.”

After he wrapped my head he took a look at the rest of my diagnostics. I couldn’t see it but I knew that there was a crease between his eyebrows and a frown on his face.

“Evac is two minutes out. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded. Maybe I could hold on.

“What do you need?” He asked. He sounded panicked. Rare.

“D-Don’t know.”

He leaned against the wall next to me humming a vaguely familiar song. My eyes closed for a moment before I was jostled awake by Jun again.

“I’m going to have to move you, okay?”

I had a feeling that there wasn’t going to be much room for me to fight him on it. He lifted me into his arms in the same way that someone would carry a child. One arm was around my knees and the other was tucked under my shoulders, my face burrowed into his neck. His hand rested lightly on the bandages nearest to my would to steady my head as he sprinted toward the Pelican.

“We’re almost there. Come on, don’t give up on me just yet.”

I felt the thrum of the Pelican in the air and Jun’s footsteps sped up under me and finally we were inside. The rest of Noble team made it quickly to the Pelican as well. My limp body was placed on a bed and a medic immediately got to work on my wounds. Jun made to sit down across from me.

Soon, I could hardly move and I couldn’t speak at all. I was losing blood (and consciousness) at an alarmingly quick rate. The medic began patching up the worst lacerations and gave me field coagulant injections where she suspected internal bleeding to be. She secured a few ribs and sewed up some of the more minor injuries littering my body. All the while, I was pliant and in the state between sleep and wakefulness.

It was muffled when the medic said: “We need to maneuver him into a sitting position so that I can work on his head wound.”

I faintly felt someone’s hands underneath my arms as they lifted my body and gently leaned my head against the wall in order for the medic to more easily access my wound. The antiseptic stung like a bitch and the whole procedure hurt worse than almost anything I had felt in my life. I hadn’t known it at the time, but I would later find out that I nearly screamed my throat raw in agony and that the entirety of the Noble fireteam was listening to me.

“The hell are you doing to him, doc?” I found out Carter had asked.

“Field bone growth procedure.”

It was a slow process and the medic eventually wrapped bandages around my head and someone laid me down on a bench gently. After slipping in and out of consciousness for what had to have been hours, I tried to get up so that I could start my report, but the medic was by my side, a hand on my chest.

“Easy, Lieutenant. We’re nearly there.”

When we landed, a group of medics--doctors and specialists, not field nurses--loaded me onto a stretcher as the rest of Noble team gathered a few yards away. Jun had taken his helmet off and said something to the team that made them all shake their heads or look at me with a glance full of pity and guilt.

Maybe they felt bad. Maybe some of them were glad that there was a chance I’d be forgotten as Noble Six and Thom would always be remembered as the last to fill the position. I’m not even sure my tags made it back from the Covvie outpost. I’d really be forgotten after all.

What a tragic thought.

I gave a slight wave to the team before I was finally knocked out by the meds administered to me by the doctors.

#halo #halo: reach #noble six #noble four #emile-a239 #noble three #jun #jun-a266 #fix-it fic #halo: the master chief collection

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the-original-b · 3 years

Text

Archangel: High Society

Format: Prose / Fiction, one-shot

Word Count: c. 8,400

Krueger and Khai embark on a rescue operation deep in enemy territory, where they come face to face with a dangerous foe.

Warning(s): blood, violence, brief nudity

Khai sat at the conference room desk buried in charts and reports, long after everyone else had left the office. She thought she would get better at it with time, but long after Simon’s passing her work as the Manhattan Branch’s controller hadn’t gotten any easier.

Somehow it seemed more difficult after the promotion was made formal just a few short weeks ago.

She leaned back in the old chair and sighed, resting her glasses on the stack of papers that never seemed to shrink. She shut her eyes and rubbed her eyelids with her thumb and first finger as she wondered how the Partners could ever think she was even remotely qualified to run the place.

The ringing phone was a welcome distraction. She straightened up and answered without putting her spectacles back on. “Elizabeth Khai’s office,” she answered. She still wasn’t used to saying that.

“Liz?” the man on the other end said. His age added a rasp to his voice. “Chuck Silvio. Congratulations again on your promotion.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Silvio.” She relaxed a little, leaning back in the chair again and crossing her legs. “It’s been a while, how are you these days?”

“Not bad, not bad. The Miami weather’s good for me.”

“I bet,” she said with a chuckle. In her mind’s eye she could see him leaning back in his chair at the office, mirroring her posture. She turned in her chair to watch the rain drops streak down the window overlooking Sixth Avenue. “Beats the hell out of the cold rain.”

“Oh, it gets plenty wet here too,” he commented, matching her laugh. “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it… So, what can I do for you?”

“You remember my little shithead son, right?”

“CJ? Of course.” Khai reached out for her glasses and put them back on one-handed. “As I recall, Specialist Krueger and I helped him out of a mess with the Company last year.”

“And I can’t thank you two enough for that,” Silvio added. “Really… But those connections don’t wash away so easy. The Jackass is going to some kind of get-together in Williamsburg, Virginia,” he began. “A big gala on the water at the end of the week.”

“Williamsburg is Company territory,” Khai noted. “You think they’re trying him again?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” he said, “and I need to borrow Mr. Krueger to get him out of another mess.”

“He’s cleaning up a snafu in Cape Cod,” Khai noted, consulting her desktop calendar partially obscured by a takeout container from Tillman’s in which sat a half-eaten steak sandwich and handful of fries. “He should be back tomorrow night, but I’m not certain as to what his schedule looks like afterward.”

“I talked to Isaac,” Silvio said. “He’ll be available.”

Khai offered a shrug as if he could see it. “Well, alright..! I’ll get him in the schedule and make the arrangements.”

“Perfect,” Silvio said as Khai keyed the password to her desktop computer. “One of my guys got his hands on a few tickets, we can have one overnighted to you.” She summoned Krueger’s calendar to enter his travel dates.

She paused before saving the entry and leaned back in her chair again. “Say, do you think you can send two tickets up here?”

“Thinking about attending a waterside gala, Miss Khai?” His smirk was audible.

“I did pick up this lovely gown the other day,” she jested. “I need an excuse to wear it… I can have Everett keep an eye on things while I’m away.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to cover for you while you’re out having some fun,” Silvio chuckled. “I’ll send a pair of tickets up to the Branch. Thanks again for this, Liz.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Silvio. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Khai hit the lever in the phone’s cradle to end the call with Silvio, then released it to dial his number.

He answered after a few rings. “Good evening, Miss Khai,” he said.

“Hello, there,” she charmed. “You feel like taking me someplace nice this weekend?”

~~~~

Krueger reviewed the fabric samples the tailor offered him, and after narrowing down his selection for the outer layer to a solid black and textured medium gray, revisited the options for the lining. “Do you do waistcoats as well?” he asked the tailor.

“Certainly,” he replied.

Krueger nodded. He looked over his shoulder at Khai, in the room with them with her gown folded over her arms. He picked a few fabric samples up off the table and held them out in front of him, lining them up with the portion of the gown he could see from where he stood. He shut one eye as he scrutinized each sample; each of them matched the shade of her gown almost perfectly. “What shoes will you be wearing?” he asked her.

“The black ankle strap round-toes,” she said. “With the red soles.”

Krueger knew them. That narrowed his decision down. “This one,” he said, handing it to the tailor.

“Excellent choice,” he noted. He jotted the selections down in his note pad. “What style did you want for them?”

“British.”

“And the fit?”

“Modern.”

“And that’s two buttons, yes? The same as before?”

“Two buttons, that’s right,” Krueger nodded. “I’ll need a shirt as well.”

“Of course,” the tailor said. “Give me a moment and I’ll return with the samples.” The tailor took his leave with his notes.

Shortly after he left, another person entered the room—a brown-skinned man in his early thirties with a ten day beard. “Sorry you guys,” he said. “Collision on the Belt Parkway took out the left lane.”

“No worries, Brandon. We haven’t left yet.”

Krueger arched a brow at their newcomer.

“Oh, right,” Khai noted, “you two haven’t formally met… Milo this is Brandon Desmoulins, my tech expert out of Brooklyn.”

“The one who decrypted Orham’s files?” Krueger said, offering the man a hand to shake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“No, the honor is mine, Mr. Krueger.” Brandon shook Krueger’s hand, then reached into his jacket pocket to pull a pair of two-by-six inch slivers of card stock. Khai recognized them as the gala tickets. “They’re usually keyed to the individuals who purchased them, but our guys in the Southeast Region were able to wipe these two. Which means,” he continued as he retrieved his laptop from his backpack, “We got a pair of blank slates for you guys.” He opened the computer and took a seat at the table.

“Well,” Khai said, taking a spot beside Krueger as she looked over Brandon’s shoulder at the monitor, “I’ve never been somebody else before, so why not?”

“You can be the Queen of England if you like.”

“Sure,” Khai scoffed. “I’m the spitting image of her.”

“You know,” Krueger jested. “I think I see it. Turn your head a little…”

“Oh, like this..?” she added laughing to herself. “And you, Sebastian?”

“Not this time,” he noted. “The Company knows Sebastian Weber. They said my eyes gave me away in Miami, I’ll need a disguise as well as a new name.”

Brandon turned in his seat to look at him. “You look like a Michael to me.” He brought his hand to his lip as he considered naming him. “Michael Fff… Fuchs.”

Krueger shrugged. “That works.”

“Mike Fuchs it is,” Brandon declared. He loaded one of the tickets into a fist-sized portable printer and keyed in Krueger’s new alias. In moments, the device wrote a barcode and etched the name into the document’s face. “Hope you like it, cos it’s too late to change. As for the peepers, we should be able to get you contact lenses pretty easily.”

Krueger nodded. “The more common the color the better.”

“Can’t go wrong with brown ones… and you.” He turned over his other shoulder to look at Khai. “I’m thinking Samantha. Samantha…”

“Nguyen,” she suggested.

“Good as anything else, I guess.” He loaded Khai’s ticket into the printer and coded it to her new identity. When the printer was done he presented them their tickets. “There we go—Michael Fuchs and Samantha Nguyen. Just a pair of run-of-the-mill socialites and definitely not high ranking members of the Marlow Partners’ organization.”

Khai took the tickets and studied them before handing Krueger his. “Nice work as always.”

“For you two, nothing but the best.” He shut his laptop and returned it to his backpack. “There is one more thing—I keyed in Vizier Status to those tickets, it’ll let you carry a pistol on the premises. Probably not necessary, but if you guys are going into the lions’ den, I figured you’d prefer to be armed.”

“Good thinking,” Krueger nodded.

Khai checked the clock on the far wall. “Don’t know if we’ll have time to head to the armory today—”

“No need,” Krueger said. “I know exactly what I’ll take for this one—the Five-Seven. With hollow points.”

“Not the armor penetrators?”

“I’d like to avoid collateral damage,” he said. “Even there.”

Khai couldn’t disagree with his logic. “Fair enough. I’ll just have to swing by after hours and see what I’ll be able to conceal in this.”

The tailor returned to the room with another collection of fabrics. “Here we are,” he said. “Given what I understand about this gathering, I went ahead and narrowed down the usual selection.”

Krueger walked over to view what was offered. Immediately he was drawn to a textured sanguine red.

“Do you like that one?”

“I do,” Krueger admitted. “But that’s not what we’re here for today…” He redirected his glance to something more conservative and examined the samples. “Can you conceal the buttons?”

“I certainly can. What color do you want for them?”

“Black.”

Khai leaned against the table beside Brandon as she observed the two of them, her gown still folded over her arms. “So,” she said to him.

“So..?”

“So does he live up to your expectations?”

“Honestly?” Brandon returned with a whisper. “I thought he would be taller.”

~~~~~~

Krueger opened his door and stepped out of the limousine when the driver brought the vehicle to a stop. He offered Khai his hand and helped her out of the car as they walked up the red carpet to an elegant villa overlooking the James River, nestled in the heart of a luxurious resort and golf club. A black evening shawl rested on her shoulders beneath her hair and draped over her contours, drawing any onlookers’ eyes to her crimson long sleeve gown with a thigh-high slit up the right side. She traded her usual eyewear for contact lenses and colored her lips the same shade as the gown. Her shoes called attention to Krueger’s outfit—a black suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and crimson waistcoat with a subdued black print.

Together they approached the open front door of the venue, where they presented their invitations to the staffer there. He reviewed their tickets and asked if they were carrying; Krueger opened his jacket to expose the Five-Seven tucked in the holster under his left arm. The staffer cleared them for entry and directed them to the coat check a few yards into the foyer, where Khai deposited her shawl and looked up a grand stair case that split toward the top as it led to the second floor.

“No hassle so far,” she noted sotto voce.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Krueger whispered as they went deeper into the building and found their way to the main atrium. “We’re in the hornets’ nest now.”

Khai took a breath as she beheld the main atrium, an ornately decorated love letter to excess and decadence. Marble columns stretched from floor to ceiling in each of the room’s four corners, and a gargantuan crystal chandelier dangled from the center to illuminate the room. Bicolor marble tiles covered the entire floor space, and the walls were adorned with recreations of famous paintings watching over the tables and dance floor. Finally a huge pair of French doors opened up to a terrace overlooking the water and setting sun, where there were likely more food and drink stations to satisfy the patrons there.

“Remember,” he continued, “we’re here for Silvio.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I remember.” She scanned the room some more, noting the food stations along one wall ending in a carving table, and the well-appointed bar opposite them. “It’s just a shame we have to be here for work.”

“Well,” Krueger smirked, resting his hand on her hip to pull her closer, “maybe Michael Fuchs and Samantha Nguyen can return and spend a week on the resort grounds someday.”

“Don’t you go giving me ideas now…” She brushed her hand on the small of his back as she took a few steps deeper into the room. “We’ll cover more ground if we spit up to work the room.”

“I’ll start outside,” Krueger said, and they went their separate ways to look for CJ Silvio.

They met up at the inside bar after a futile forty minutes. Khai ordered a glass of pinot noir while Krueger ordered a gin martini. “Did you fare any better than me?” he asked her, leaning against the mahogany finish.

Khai shook her head after thanking the bartender for her wine and taking a sip. “His father said he would be here.”

“Is he usually late to gatherings like this?”

“I don’t think he’s ever been to a gathering like this,” she jested, turning around and leaning against the bar top to look at the room again. “Way too classy an audience for him—” her eyes widened and jaw gaped for a moment before springing around to turn her back to the room and mouthing “shit..!”

“What is it?”

“White tux,” she responded with an almost inaudible whisper. “Don’t look.”

Krueger discreetly scanned the room to try and spot the person or thing that so completely and immediately terrified her. “I think I see him,” he said, matching her tone. “Tall, gray, handsome fellow?”

“That’s Osiris. In the flesh.”

Krueger turned back to face Khai and accept his cocktail. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Roland Preston,” she explained, maintaining her volume. “He controls Company operations across the entire Eastern Seaboard and as far west as Chicago. He’s every bad day Isaac and Charles ever had.” She paused to consider the implications of his presence. “If he’s here for the same reason we are…”

“Then we better find CJ first,” Krueger surmised.

Khai nodded. “Alright, new plan,” she said as she straightened herself up and took another sip of wine to collect herself. “We stick together.” She took Krueger’s hand and led him toward the French doors and the terrace beyond them. “We stay out of his sight, find someplace with good visibility to look for Silvio, then collect him and get out of here.”

“And if Osiris finds him before we do?”

Khai took a breath. “Then I hope you have more bullets than there are bodyguards in this place.”

The two of them stayed on the terrace overlooking the water for the remainder of cocktail hour, and when the time came for them to find their seats they quietly made their way to a table near the dance floor with a good view of the bar. As Krueger understood, they would have the best chance of spotting CJ Silvio from there.

About twenty minutes into the reception, his wager paid off. He spotted CJ Silvio, dressed in a neat black suit and tie, nearly running after a blonde woman in a short dress on his way to the bar. It was obvious to Krueger that this woman wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and it appeared Young Silvio was looking to redeem himself after some unseen slight. After a short while he gave up and turned to get the bartender’s attention.

“I think we should order a drink,” he said, subtly gesturing the bar.

Khai followed his nod to the person in question. “Good idea.”

She stood up shortly after him and followed Krueger toward their target, but they were intercepted by a tall, classically handsome green eyed man with gray swept-back hair and manicured mustache. “And here I thought I was well-dressed this evening, then you two come along and show me up so elegantly.” He addressed them with a rich, honeyed voice, wearing a white tuxedo jacket and dark slacks with a crisp black bowtie. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, offering Khai his hand. “Roland Preston. This is my gala.”

Khai discreetly swallowed her terror and flashed him a warm smile. “I wondered whose party this was!” she extolled. “Samantha Nguyen,” she said, shaking his hand. “And this is my partner, Michael.”

Krueger followed her lead, keeping CJ in sight. “Michael Fuchs,” he introduced himself. “This is a lovely party,” he continued as he shook Osiris’s hand.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Fuchs,” he said. “So, tell me how it is I’ve never seen you here before, dressed like that.”

“Kind of a long story,” Khai said. “Mike, would you mind?” she said, gesturing the bar.

“Of course,” he said, making his way toward the indicated area. “You had the pinot noir, yes?”

“I did, thank you.” She redirected her attention to Osiris, guiding him away from CJ as she explained. “Michael and I run a small IT setup. We were stationed in Southern California until last December, but we found a better opportunity out here.”

“Is that so?” Osiris returned. “And how are you liking the East Coast so far?”

“Oh, we love it! It’s like we’ve lived here all our lives..!”

Krueger made his way to the bar as Khai distracted Osiris, and stationed himself adjacent to CJ as he ordered a pinot noir and gin martini, slipping the bartender a few bills. “No frozen margaritas here, unfortunately,” he said to him.

CJ looked over his shoulder at the other man. “Huh?”

“This isn’t a poolside party. You’ll have to order smarter if you want to blend into this crowd. You can’t go wrong with one of the classics. A martini, or an Old-Fashioned if that’s more your speed.”

CJ quickly shook his head, befuddled. “Do I know you, man?”

“You do.” He finally turned to face CJ. “Also not a great idea to chase women here. Especially not when you have a baby on the way.”

CJ shut his eyes tight and opened them again as he leaned in, squinting at Krueger as he placed where he’d seen him before. “Sebastian—?”

“Not tonight. Tonight I’m accompanying your boss while she and I do your father a favor.” He gestured to his right at Osiris and Khai as they conversed. “Before you make a fool of yourself and say something you’ll regret, yes that is her in red. And she’s stopping that man from finding out who you are, because if he did, you’ll be dead by dawn or worse.”

Speechless, CJ looked over his shoulder at Khai and Osiris, then back at Krueger.

CJ’s disbelief informed Krueger he was completely unaware of the depth of the trouble he was in. “We’re trying to help you,” Krueger continued, “so let us help you. Leave,” he ordered. “Get your coat, call a taxi, and get as far away from this city as you can as quickly as you can. And then call your father to apologize.”

CJ nodded sheepishly, then retreated from the main atrium back toward the entrance.

Krueger watched Silvio exit the room as he reclaimed his drinks from the bartender, making sure he thanked him.

“Mr. Fuchs,” Osiris got Krueger’s attention. “Samantha was just telling me you head security for your company.”

He turned to face Osiris, having to turn his gaze upward slightly to establish eye contact. “That’s right,” he said, handing Khai her beverage. “I used to be a consultant in the field, but she made me a better offer,” he said with a smirk. “She still lets me freelance every now and then.”

“It keeps him happy,” Khai jested. “He would get bored otherwise.”

“Boy do I understand that,” Osiris added, laughing. “Would you mind lending me your input for a moment? I’ve been looking for ways to tighten security and upgrade networks for a few of my operations, and I can benefit from an outside opinion.”

Krueger and Khai discreetly shot each other looks. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said.

“Please, it won’t take much time at all,” he charmed. “Then I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Khai said.

“Excellent,” Osiris extolled. “If you’d follow me to my office upstairs,” he gestured the hallway before them. “You can take your drinks with you.”

“Lead the way,” Krueger said. He put himself between Khai and Osiris as they followed him out the main atrium and toward the front lobby.

“So what did you say your industry was, Mr. Preston?” Krueger asked.

“Logistics, primarily,” Osiris answered, leading Krueger and Khai up the stairs. “Transportation of goods, and occasionally providing security services for those transported goods… the yardstick to inter-state commerce.” He turned left at the split to lead them down a hallway, and Krueger kept a mental tally of the staff they passed. “But some people don’t see it that way,” he lamented. “They would see my logistics operation crumble, and have attacked me through less-than-legal means,” he explained as he turned right and led them into an elegant office space. A mahogany desk sat before a massive window, to their left was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and to their right a coffee table and lounge area with a few cozy-looking couches. The carpet below their feet was a rich red. “So I’ll have to do the same, if I’m going to survive,” he concluded, turning to face them.

“Uh-huh… and these less-than-legal methods,” Khai put forth as Krueger went to rest his martini on the lounge table, “how do you presume we’ll be able to help you?” She turned to look over her shoulder as two more staffers closed the office doors behind them. Once again she closed the distance between Krueger and herself.

Osiris simply smirked and stepped aside, allowing them to see a shiny piece of gold-colored metal atop the mahogany desk. “Do either of you know what this is?”

They could both see it was a gun, a large hand cannon with a long, ported slide and barrel. Neither of them recognized the exact model.

Osiris picked the firearm up off the desk and held it in his hand. “This was a gift from some associates out west,” he explained. “It’s big, heavy, impossible to conceal, and poorly designed.” He reversed the gun in his hand to show them the lack of padding on the rear of the grip. “It shoots giant bullets, and has nothing to ease the recoil from those bullets, so it hurts every single time I shoot it. I don’t have the heart to tell the guys who gave this to me how much I hate it, but,” he continued as he loaded a five-round magazine into the hand cannon, “it makes a statement. Just know that every time I pull the trigger, I really want the guy or girl on the business end of this thing to understand that statement. So… to answer your question, Miss Khai,” he added as he pulled back the slide and released to chamber a round. “I think you’re opinion on what’s less than legal is well-qualified, as that is your area of expertise.”

Khai blinked and recoiled as her stomach sank when he called her by name. She backed toward the door almost subconsciously as Krueger stepped up between them to shield her.

Osiris’s lip curled into a sinister smirk as he stepped up to close the distance between them. “Yes,” he began. “I know who you are, Elizabeth Margaret Khai. Operations Controller for the Marlow Partners up north. I knew who you were the moment I laid eyes on you. Which would make you,” he directed his gaze—and cannon—to Krueger, “the specialist she hired to make sense of the organization again… Sebastian Weber? But we both know that’s not your real name. Neither is Michael Fuchs.”

“Congratulations,” Krueger commented, “you’re clairvoyant.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourselves,” he said, “you certainly would have fooled anybody else.” He took a few more steps toward them, and had them backed against the wall. “You know, you cost me a lot in Miami, Specialist—it took years to get three of my guys close to Silvio’s son… But they succeeded posthumously; he ended up here tonight after all. So while I can’t be too angry with you, holding onto any amount of anger is unhealthy. So…” He lowered the hand cannon to abdomen-level and fired, catching Krueger in the left ribs and dropping him to the floor almost instantly.

Khai stifled a scream and jumped away from them, back toward the lounge table as Osiris freed his hand. He held onto the cannon with his left as he rhythmically flexed his right and winced, groaning. She distanced herself further from him, heading toward the mahogany desk by the window as her eyes darted from Osiris in front of her to Krueger motionless on the floor. As Osiris looked back over his shoulder to face her she wished, prayed, Krueger would start moving again.

“Now there’s the matter of what punishment best suits you,” he dictated. “Maybe Young Silvio can give us some ideas. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a little late for his opinion,” Khai said, consciously slowing her speech just enough to hide her fear from him.

“Am I?” he queried. He took a conspicuous glance at the watch on his left wrist, and CJ Silvio was brought into the office by two of the staffers mere moments later, sporting a split lip and bleeding brow. Osiris dropped his hand and approached her again, carrying his cannon, and she recoiled almost immediately, but was stopped by the desk behind her. “Did you really think I would let any of you leave this place alive?”

Motion in Khai’s periphery gave her the cue she so desperately looked for earlier, giving her the boost in confidence she needed to act. “Lapse in judgement,” she said, shrugging. “Happens to the best of us.” She immediately threw her right knee into Osiris’s groin and dove to her left, hitting the floor and reaching for a subcompact Glock 26 she had holstered on the inside of her left thigh as Krueger—still on the floor—reached for his Five-Seven.

Krueger raised his handgun and fired six times in rapid succession, landing all his shots in Osiris’s back, while Khai struck each of the staffers in the room twice with well-placed shots from her handgun.

Osiris collapsed to his hands and knees, taking a labored breath as he turned to face Krueger, Khai, and CJ. He raised his hand cannon one more time, but lacked the strength to keep it at the ready; he dropped the gun to the floor and fell onto his side, coughing blood and grabbing at his chest.

Slowly, Krueger made it to his knees and holstered his weapon, then moved his hand to his side while he doubled over in pain. He propped himself up against the doorway while he tried to catch his breath.

When she was sure he wasn’t too badly hurt, Khai sat up to re-holster her handgun then stood to look down at Osiris. She crouched down to pick up his hand cannon and raised it one-handed to hold him in the sights. “The Partners send their regards,” she said. Then she squeezed the trigger, striking Osiris in the chest.

The recoil nearly wrenched the cannon from her grip. Shocked, she looked at the weapon in her hand in disbelief. She realized Osiris wasn’t lying about the weapon’s design flaws, but ultimately agreed with him about its ability to make a statement.

She rushed over to Krueger and knelt down in front of him, placing Osiris’s hand cannon on the floor to examine his wound. To her relief, she found he wasn’t bleeding. “Are you alright?”

Krueger nodded. “Armor saved my life,” he noted between shallow breaths.

This, as well as his apparent refusal to remove his right hand from his left side, worried Khai. She looked up at CJ, who was just getting back onto his feet after the violence that unfolded around him. “We have to get him out of here now,” she declared.

CJ agreed. “Say no more,” he said. “When they scooped me up they brought me back in through a side entrance. We can use it to slip away without them noticing.” He went to stand and wipe some blood from his brow.

“Do you remember where that exit is, by any chance?”

“End of the hall to the right.” CJ went toward the front door to pull a fire alarm mounted near it. “That should buy us some more time and cover.”

“Good thinking…” She turned back to address Krueger. “I’m going to help you up, Milo,” she said, taking his hand in hers and putting his arm around her shoulders. She propped him up onto his feet and stood up with him; when she was sure he could stand on his own, she retrieved her Glock from its holster once more and eyed CJ. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” CJ noted. He searched the two bodies on the floor next to him, and found a set of car keys.

Khai peered around the doorway into the hall, and popped back behind cover after spotting half a dozen armed men and women on their way up the stairs, likely to investigate the noise in Osiris’s office. “Damn it,” she hissed. “I hope you’re a good shot, CJ.”

“He won’t have to be,” Krueger said, retrieving his Five-Seven from inside his jacket and handing it to him. “Keep their heads down with this, get them to retreat to the lobby while we find our way down.”

CJ reluctantly took the handgun and took a breath to prepare himself. Then he popped out from behind the doorway and squeezed the trigger several times in the general direction of the event staff. Khai and Krueger took the opportunity to make a break further down the hallway, and CJ scrambled to follow them as he emptied the magazine down the hall.

They made it to the emergency exit stairwell at end of the hall, just where CJ said it would be, by the time the gun was dry. Khai turned around and un-holstered her Glock, bracing herself against the doorway, and took aim. She targeted not the guards but the light fixtures above them. She fired three times at the one between them and her, and succeeded in breaking the thin chain that held it to drop the chandelier and slow the guards.

In the chaos and panic among the other guests, they snuck out the side and around the back of the villa to a parking lot. CJ led them through, tapping the unlock button on the key fob he lifted to guide them to the car it belonged to. When he found the SUV, he hopped into the driver’s seat while Khai joined Krueger in the back to nurse his wound. CJ put the car into drive and took off, passing an oncoming ambulance on his way off the resort grounds.

“Easy,” Khai said from the back seat. “We don’t need to call any attention to ourselves.” She undid Krueger’s waistcoat and shirt, then carefully opened the body armor underneath. She turned the light on above them to get a better look, noting a small cut in his side where the bullet struck the armor as well as some bruising and swelling, confirming her fears. “See if you can find a pharmacy,” she said. “Or anywhere we can pick up a first aid kit. We need to treat his rib fracture.”

“Not to question you,” he said, “but is that really for the best? We should probably get out of Williamsburg, or at least as far away from the resort as possible.”

Krueger nodded. “I agree. Call your father or Isaac. See if they can arrange to get us out of here.” He winced as he straightened up in his seat. “Then we can worry about fixing me.”

Khai waited with Krueger in the parking lot of a CVS some twenty miles from the resort, and conferred with Charles Silvio over the phone while CJ went inside to pick up the first aid supplies she detailed for him. Upon his return with the equipment, Khai explained the situation for them all to hear.

“I spoke to your father,” she said, opening the rear door to step out and meet him outside the idling car. “He thinks the best thing for us right now is to lie low for the night while the dust settles, then he’ll send somebody in the morning for us.”

“So we’re spending the night here?” CJ confirmed. “Balls deep in hostile territory..?”

“I’m afraid so…”

“We’ll need lodging,” Krueger said from the car’s rear bench. “I spotted a discreet motel on the way here.”

“That’s perfect,” Khai said. “They shouldn’t ask questions.” She took the first aid supplies from CJ and stepped back into the car. “Take us to the motel,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” CJ sighed.

Upon their arrival at the motel, CJ stopped the engine to let Khai out and the two of them helped Krueger onto his feet. He followed them from the car to the entrance, and together they made it to the reception area and got the host’s attention.

“Welcome and good evening,” he said. “How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Khai said, fighting to filter the adrenaline from her voice as she spoke to him. “We’ll need three rooms for one night. Next to each other, if that can be helped.”

“Of course,” the receptionist said. “Can I have a name and credit card on file for your stay?”

Krueger reached into his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a stack of neatly folded $100 bills. He placed it on the countertop and slid it toward the receptionist. “Ben Franklin,” he said.

The receptionist looked up at Krueger, then down at the cash, and then back up to Krueger. Nodding, he retrieved three sets of keys from under his desk. “Rooms 203, 204, and 205,” he said. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Franklin.”

“Danke schön.” Krueger took the keys and turned to lead his companions to their rooms. On the way handed CJ one of the keys and $200. “Go to the Goodwill down the road,” he ordered. “Get some cheap clothes that won’t draw attention and deliver them to my room.”

“Y-you bet.” CJ looked at Khai, and back at Krueger. “Um, what’s her size?”

“Take a guess.” Krueger slid the key into his door and entered. Khai followed him inside with the first aid supplies, leaving CJ to walk to the car and fetch their disguises.

Krueger rested his jacket on the back of a chair then went to the bathroom to wash his hands and splash water on his face one-handed. He worked on his shirt while Khai washed up in the bathroom behind him, peering over her shoulder every so often to check on him.

She fished her glasses out of her evening handbag and swapped her contact lenses for them just in time to watch Krueger roll his shoulder, painfully, to get out of his shirt and waistcoat and let them fall to the floor. She saw him struggle to remove the body armor and stepped in to intervene. “Let me,” she said. Gently, she peeled it off of his torso and stepped back to let him walk forward a little. Her eyes lingered on the numerous old battle wounds that were still visible on his bare back and chest.

Krueger tightened his one fist and gingerly held his side with his other hand, covering the growing purple blotch in his side as he slowly sat at the foot of the bed. He shut his eyes and exhaled a profanity before looking back at Khai. “Far from my first broken rib,” he said. “But I never did get used to the pain.”

She bent over to pick his shirt and waistcoat up off the floor and went to the chair his jacket rested over to place them with it. “Good,” she replied, stepping out of her stilettoes on her way to the first aid supplies in their bags by the door. “I’d be worried about you if you were so accident-prone.” She retrieved a bottle of isopropyl solution and a cotton ball from the first-aid kit, opened the bottle, and tilted it onto the cotton ball a few times to absorb enough antiseptic to disinfect the cut. Then, carefully, she applied the cotton ball to the shallow cut in his side. “This doesn’t get any more fun each time,” she added playfully.

“It’s a lot less fun to endure,” he returned. “Believe me.”

“I’ll take your word for it…” She retrieved a fresh cotton ball from the kit and gingerly dabbed the wound to dry it, conscientious of what was beneath the tender skin. Then she reached into the bag for a cold compress. “You know what comes next, right?”

Krueger nodded. “I’m ready for it.”

“I’m sorry in advance,” she said. Then she gently pressed the ice pack to his side, applying just enough pressure to hold it in place.

Krueger winced a little, but didn’t protest much otherwise. “Don’t be. I’m just happy to have you here fixing me. I could have been doing this alone.”

She paused a little at his remark, realizing how different things might have gone tonight if she weren’t there. She considered how far from fine it all went, and felt responsible. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Silvio,” he said.

He was probably right, but she couldn’t ignore other possibilities. “Hold that in place,” she said, then stood up to approach the door, reaching for her Glock resting on the inside of her thigh as she got closer to the peephole. When she confirmed Krueger’s assertion, she holstered the handgun and leaned against the wall to let CJ into the room, carrying bags from the Goodwill store, CVS and a fast food eatery.

“Disguises in here,” he said, laying the Goodwill bag down. “There was also change enough for some overnight stuff—you know toothbrushes, toothpaste, the like. And finally some cheeseburgers, since none of us ate dinner at the resort party... you guys don’t have any dietary restrictions, right?”

Khai shook her head.

Krueger shrugged. “It’s my cheat day.”

“Sure,” he continued, not sure whether he was joking. “Cheat day... One for you, Miss Khai,” he said, handing her one canary-yellow wrapper. “One for, well I would have said Sebastian, but—”

“Krueger.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Milo Krueger.”

Khai nodded, mid-chew. “I can confirm.”

“Right. One for Mr. Krueger…” He reached across Khai to hand him a cheeseburger. “And mine is in the bag… I split the clothes up to make it easier for everyone. Krueger and I are about the same size, so he was wasn’t a problem. For you, I got the smallest things I could find.”

Khai chuckled. “Thanks for trying to flatter me, but it’s for a day. I’m sure I’d be able to manage if you got my size wrong.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” CJ stood up, taking his bags with him towards the door. “Is there anything else you guys need?”

“I’ll head back after I finish up here. Thank you, CJ.”

“You bet. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” Then CJ Silvio turned and exited the room to return to his quarters for the night.

Khai waited a few moments after CJ left, then stood up from her spot to deposit her cheeseburger wrapper in the bathroom trash bin. She quickly washed and dried her hands then reached up her back to undo her gown, pulling the zipper all the way down on her own and paring it off her slender frame, leaving only a black strapless bra and panties to cover herself. She folded the gown over itself as neatly as she could and crossed the room to place it on the chair with Krueger’s clothes, then removed her garter holster and handgun to rest them there as well. “No way I’m letting you sleep alone tonight,” she said returning to the clothing bags CJ left behind and finding hers. She threw a t-shirt on and went back to the bathroom to grab a few hand towels, then returned to Krueger’s side to take the ice pack away. “You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Krueger said.

“I know. But your body will need the nutrients if you want to start healing.”

If Krueger protested, he didn’t show it. He laid the cheeseburger wrapper in his lap to free its contents, then took hold of and bit into it, chewing slowly.

Khai placed the hand towels against his side and had Krueger hold them there while she went to the first-aid kit. She peeled a length of medical tape from the roll and fastened it to Krueger’s sternum, crossing the soft towels and sticking the other end to his back to hold them in place. “You know, you scared the crap out of me tonight,” she admitted.

Krueger swallowed. “How so?”

“When Osiris shot you, you… just fell.” She repeated her actions with another length of tape. “And when you didn’t get up, I thought...” She paused for a bit with a third length of tape to stop her voice from wobbling. “I thought I’d lost you.” She retrieved a pressure bandage and unraveled it, starting to wrap it around his core.

Krueger chewed some more as he put his thoughts together, then swallowed. By now he knew her well enough to know she would be blaming herself for what happened somehow. “It’s not your fault, Liz,” he confided.

“I didn’t have to come with you, but I did. You heard Osiris, he spotted me first.” She secured the bandage in place with the included fasteners and looked up to make eye contact with him, her hand falling into his lap. “If I weren’t there he would never have found us, and you wouldn’t have come that close to dying.” She shut her eyes and shook her head, cursing herself.

“You don’t know that, Liz,” Krueger said. He placed the rest of the cheeseburger into its wrapper to lay his hand on hers. “He could have spotted me anyway, or gotten to Silvio before I could if you hadn’t been there to distract him. I wouldn’t have even known who he was if not for you.” He moved his hand to her cheek and she looked back up at him. “It’s impossible to tell what could have happened if things were different,” he continued. “You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t have foreseen. Nobody can predict everything, what’s important is that we all made it out alive. People like us aren’t always so lucky,” he finally said. “I know this.”

Khai took his words to heart and exhaled to calm herself again. Then she stood up, took his face in her hands and placed two kisses square on his mouth. “Don’t you dare get killed out there, Milo Krueger,” she appealed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~~

Khai kept his promise to him, spending the night by his side and treating his wound as needed. They finally drifted off to sleep after several hours, and when they awoke the next morning Khai took a phone call from Charles Silvio letting her know their transport would be there within sixty minutes.

Khai dressed herself in the pullover hoodie and jeans CJ picked out for her and gathered the rest of her belongings. “Shame about Samantha and Michael,” she jested. “It doesn’t look like they’ll be back to that resort any time soon.”

“Looks that way,” Krueger said, easing a zip-up hoodie over his left shoulder to keep the pressure off his healing ribs. “That’s why I picked up a souvenir.” He walked over to where his suit was folded and reached for the holster, revealing Osiris’s gold-plated hand cannon. “It seemed a shame to leave it behind.” He held it out for her to take.

She picked it up and held it with both hands, running her left thumb over the barrel ports and her right over the slide release. The visible engraved text read AMT AUTOMAG V 50 A.E. Irwindale, CA. “I hate shooting it,” she said with a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “But it makes a hell of a statement.”

“And what better statement to make than owning Osiris’s gun?”

“None better,” she said. She released the magazine and cleared the chamber before placing the gun in her hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, then reached one hand up to caress his cheek and give him a long, appreciative kiss. “Suppose I’d better go maintain the illusion,” she lamented after breaking contact. She returned to the bag that held her gown and shoes from the previous evening, picked it up, and stepped out of Krueger’s room.

“Ja,” he said. “Zurück an die arbeit.” He went back to his suit jacket to fish his belongings out of the jacket and place them into his cargo pants pockets.

~~~~

Khai woke CJ and had him get dressed to meet her and Krueger for breakfast, which they shared mostly in silence. And as promised, Charles Silvio’s driver arrived at the motel within the hour to pick them up and take them back to New York. He dropped Krueger and Khai off at his home in Rego Park for her to collect her car, and took CJ home to his apartment in Astoria.

Khai debriefed Isaac Hayden upon her return home. “Krueger can be up and working in as little as fourteen days,” she concluded, “but in a limited capacity. He should be back to full strength within six weeks.”

“I see,” Hayden said over the phone.

“Any updates from the Company?”

“My sources say Osiris was rushed to a hospital nearby. They say he’s comatose, and his prognosis isn’t good, but they weren’t able to get any other details regarding him. He ran the operation closer to the vest than we suspected, however. His generals are scrambling to keep his network at full functionality, and it’s already starting to splinter. We can expect them to back away from us on fronts across the entire Eastern Seaboard while they pull themselves together.”

“The way I see it sir, there’s no better time to push them out of the region than now.”

“You may be right,” he said. “But in so doing we may end up uniting them against us, and the advantage we’ve gained with Osiris’s removal from the field will be gone. I’ll coordinate with Charles and Dana, we’ll apply just enough pressure to keep them off-balance, and let them destroy themselves.”

“Understood, sir.” She poured fresh coffee from the stovetop pot into a mug and took it with her to her living room, setting down on the couch she got from Amelia’s barely a week ago.

“Charles asked me to thank you and Mr. Krueger again for your help with his son, and advised we keep him on a short leash.”

Khai had an idea about that. “What if we have CJ help me out at the branch? Be my assistant, the way I was to William and Simon.”

“Do you feel he’s up to the task?”

“I do. After what the three of us went through down there, I think he’s matured enough to handle the additional responsibilities. And if it doesn’t work, I’m sure his father can find something for him in Miami.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“On that we agree,” he added, almost chuckling. “I’ll have him report to the branch Monday morning for his new assignment. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Miss Khai.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hayden,” she said. “Good night.” She ended the call and put the phone down next to her, savoring her coffee as she admired Osiris’s empty AutoMag resting on the table in front of her. She picked the phone back up and dialed another number.

An older woman answered this time. “Hello? This is Gina.”

Khai leaned back into the couch. “Hey mom.”

“Liz!” she extolled. “It’s so good to hear from you again.”

“I know, it’s been a while. Sorry it took me so long to call back I’ve just been so busy at the branch lately.”

“I bet you have been, Miss Branch Controller..! Your father and I can’t tell you how proud we are of you. Running an operation at your age? That’s unheard of.”

“I did have help,” Khai said, trying to be modest. “And a great set of teachers, so you and dad can take thirty percent of the credit.”

“Is that all you’re willing to give us?” she jested.

“Okay,” Khai conceded, laughing. “Forty, but that’s as high as I’ll go..!”

“I’ll take it,” Gina laughed. “So tell me, what else is new with you?”

“Well,” she said, sinking further into the couch and letting it cradle her. “I just hired an assistant—you know Charles Silvio’s son?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah he’ll be helping me out with all the minutiae, and clear my schedule a little.” She paused briefly before continuing. “Also I met somebody.”

“Did you now?”

“I did.”

“Well, don’t leave me hanging, how’d you two meet?”

“He did some work for the branch a few months ago,” Khai began. “Isaac was so impressed he offered him a permanent position, so he’s with us full-time now. He’s a real sweetheart, too… he treats me well, spoils me… you and dad would love him.”

___(Masterlist)

#fiction #original work #original content #original fiction #prose #creative writing #drama #thriller

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