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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

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The One Where Tony Wears Booty Shorts (Stony)

A Halloween commission for @ceealaina ft. pining!Stony and Done With It All!Bucky. (I made this extra long because I love you and because you put up with my bullshit)

THERE’S MORE STONY ON MY MASTERLIST

AND HERE’S MORE HALLOWEEN FICS!

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

“Hey Buck.”

“Heya Stevie.” Bucky flashed Steve a quick smile and went back to digging through his shopping bags, pulling out the accessories he’d bought for his wolf costume. “What’s up?”

“Oh you know.” Steve gave a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his very soul and Bucky paused mid motion and raised his eyes to the ceiling, praying for patience from whichever deity happened to be listening.

Steve only sighed like that when he wanted to talk about Tony and Bucky-- Bucky did not have the energy to support his best friend’s All American Pining right now.

“Oh… you know.” Steve said again, emphasizing the words when Bucky didn’t respond. “Same as always.”

“Lord, beer me strength.” Bucky muttered then turned with a hopefully encouraging smile. “Somethin’ you wanna talk about, bud? Anything specific on your mind?”

“I got asked out for Halloween.” Steve complained and honestly, Steve Rogers was the only person on the planet who could make it sound like being gorgeous and constantly asked out on dates was the worst possible thing to ever happen.

The guy had spent seventy years as a red white and blue popsicle, and being asked out on a date was the worst possible thing to happen?

Sheesh.

“Okay, so you got asked out.” Bucky really really tried to sound interested. “And then what?”

“And I said yes,” Steve moaned. “Because I’m a polite sorta guy but now--”

“-- now you want to cancel because for some reason, you are perfectly willing to turn down a sure thing of sex to stare longingly at Tony from across the room like a creeper.” Bucky finished and Steve scowled at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Stevie. You know I’m right.”

“I don’t stare at Tony like a creeper.” Steve defended. “It’s-- it’s longingly. I stare at him longingly.”

“So you aren’t gonna deny the thing about turning down sex, huh?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky pulled out the wolf mask and put it next to his costume. “Who asked you out?”

“The barista down the street.” Steve flopped across Bucky’s bed and crammed his face into a pillow. “He’s so nice and he is very cute and his party sounds like a lot of fun, but won’t Tony be mad if I miss his annual Halloween bash? I mean, I should cancel the date just so I don’t hurt Tony’s feelings by ditching his party, right? That would be something a friend would do.”

“First of all, real friends would never be mad that a friend skipped a party to get laid.” Bucky countered. “Second of all, last year Tony was so drunk on candy corn vodka he doesn’t remember anything that happened after eight pm. He’s not even going to notice you’re missing.”

Steve made a shocked, wounded sort of noise and Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. “What I meant to say is--”

Steve lifted his head eagerly, all hopeful smiles and trusting expression and just piles boyish charm waiting to be told that his ridiculous crush wasn’t in fact absolutely the most ridiculous thing in the world and Bucky-- god Bucky just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Actually you know what? What I meant to say is that if you don’t sack up and ask Tony out?” Bucky pointed a finger in Steve’s face. “I’m gonna ask him out and then use your bed to pound him through a mattress. Yeah that’s right. Every time you go to sleep, you’ll have to think about me dicking Tony to with in an inch of his life and how it could have been your name Tony was screaming, but you’re too much of a fraidy cat to actually tell him you like him.

Steve’s mouth fell open so far his jaw audibly popped as it attempted not to dislocate. “BUCKY!”

“Watch me.” Bucky threatened. “Watch me do it. Cos I am tired of this! I am tired of listening to you moan about how beautiful Tony is and how badly you want to touch his pinky or... or whatever passes for kinky for you. M’done with it. Ask him out or move the hell on.”

“Well-- I-- you--” Steve gaped at him. “Buck, I don’t even know if Tony likes me!”

“You walked into the room shirtless the other day and he almost creamed his pants.” Bucky said flatly, and Steve countered, “Have you seen my pecs, Bucky? Everybody likes when I’m shirtless.”

“Oooookay.” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Well last movie night, he saved you a spot on the comfy couch and literally kicked Sam in the ass when he tried to sit there too. Not that Sam doesn’t deserve to be kicked in the ass, but Tony did it specifically cos he wanted you to sit next to him.”

“Well sure, but--”

“And also-- and I can’t stress this enough-- you are a grown ass adult and Tony is a grown ass adult. Use your goddamn words and talk to the man! In fact, go downstairs right now and take him some lunch and ask him out!. Or just kiss him! Just snatch him and kiss him!”

Steve levelled one of those patented Glares of Disapproval at Bucky. “You can’t just snatch people when you want them, Buck. That ain’t right.”

“Oh ho, I beg to differ.” Bucky snorted. “Snatchin’ people is the best way to let ‘em know you want ‘em. Besides, Tony is practically pocket sized. Snatch him, kiss him, put him back in his chair. He’ll get the hint.”

“I thought you were supposed to be charming.” Steve chucked a pillow that bounced off Bucky’s chest harmlessly. “What happened to the Bucky who could get into anyone’s pants with a smile and a wink? I want advice from him, not Winter Soldier Bucky who apparently thinks kidnapping is foreplay.”

“Kidnapping can be foreplay.” Bucky defended. “I kidnapped Tasha last week and tied her up in the bedroom and--”

“I will throw up if you finish that sentence.”

“Nah.” Bucky shook his head. “If I didn’t throw up when you waxed poetic and stupid about how great Tony looks every time he steps out of the armor, you won’t throw up when I tell you how fuckin’ bendy Tasha is. Also, I had no idea she could undo knots with her teeth or how strong her thighs are. I mean damn, Stevie. I’m a super soldier but she still about strangled me so I would keep my mouth exactly where she want--”

“LA LA LA LA LA LA!” Steve shouted and threw another pillow that hit Bucky like a brick. “Stop that!”

“Alright alright alright. I’ll be serious.” Bucky batted a third projectile out of the air and took a deep breath. “Steve look. You and Tony are great together, y’know? He thinks you walk on water and the way you stare at him is-- I mean it’s not creepy. You look at him like he hung the goddamn moon and that’s pretty fuckin’ adorable. He laughs real hard when you tell your corny jokes and you sit with him in the lab when he’s tweaking out about his technology-- it’s cute, okay? And I know this isn’t--”

He groaned as if the words physically pained him. “Steve. I know this isn’t just a crush. I know you are in love with Tony and that’s why I keep tellin’ you to go for it. You guys are pretty damn cute and fit real well together and he makes you happy, so go for it.”

“Oh.” Steve blinked a few times. “Thanks, Buck. That actually helps a lot. Thank you.”

“No problem, but that’s ‘bout as sentimental as I get, so don’t ever make me have this talk again.” Relieved at least that part of the conversation was over, Bucky went back to his costume. “So I got this wolf thing cos Nat was thinking about going as Little Red Riding Hood, but now I don’t thing I really wanna--”

“Okay, but do you think Tony like likes me?”

“Oh for fucks sake-- get out.” Bucky wrestled Steve up from the and pushed him towards the door. “Get out. I can’t take this any more. Get the fuck outta here.”

“Bucky, wait-!”

“OUT!” Bucky shoved Steve out into the hall and slammed the door. “Why is this my life? What did I do to deserve two life times of Steve Rogers being fuckin’ ridiculous---”

His phone buzzed and Bucky opened the message with a scowl bordering on murderous.

From Tony: Heya Frosty. So I’m trying to plan my costume for the party but I didn’t know if Steve was coming, and I need to know before I decide on the length of my shorts.

From Bucky: ...what? What does Steve have to do with the length of your shorts?

From Tony: You know. Like if he’s not there, I’ll probably just wear pants but if he is there my shorts are going to resemble more of a thong and less of actual clothing.

From Bucky: I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach. Lose my number.

From Tony: No Bucky wait! This is a serious question!

From Tony: BUCKY!

From Tony: Pepper refuses to give her opinion and Rhodey is screening any Steve-related calls.

From Tony: BUCKY! HELP ME! LONG PANTS OR THONG SHORTS?!

“Hey you.” Natasha looked up in surprise when Bucky stomped his way into the common area and headed for the bar. “What are you doing, you know none of that will get you drunk. And it’s--” she checked at her phone. “--two in the afternoon. That’s early even for holiday drinking. What’s going on?”

“Umph.” Bucky grunted and tore the top off a bottle of something very alcoholic that would hopefully fuzz the memory of Tony asking about thong shorts. “Steve and Tony.”

“Ah.” Natasha said, as if that answered everything. “It’s tough to be the go between. I was ready to tear my hair out when Clint and Sam were working through their bullshit. Or rather, tear their hair out, I like my hair too much to ruin it because of their shenanigans.”

Bucky sent his on again, off again girl friend a crooked smile. “I like your hair too, Tasha.”

“Yeah you do.” she scrunched her nose and sent him a smile right back. “Wanna go work off some frustration in the gym? I’m wearing those little shorts you like so much and if you get me worked up enough, I might even let you pin me.”

“Here we go.” Bucky hauled Tasha up and off the couch and tossed her over his shoulder, palming at her rear as he hurried towards the gym. “If you and I ever get as dumb as those two, just take me out back and put me outta my misery.”

“Ditto, darling.” Natasha’s smile was fond enough to be pushing sappy, but Bucky couldn’t see it so she didn’t bother trying to hide. “We will never be that terrible.”

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

“Heya Buck.” Tony looked up from his computer with a ready smile when Bucky knocked at the lab door a few hours later. “How’s it goin?”

“Eh.” Bucky shrugged, working to keep a slightly goofy grin off his face. Wrestling with Natasha never failed to make him feel like he was fuckin’ flying but there was no reason for anyone else to know that. “Sorry I ignored your text earlier, I was-- actually I have no excuse. I just ignored it. So where did you land on the shorts thing?”

“Yeah, about that.” Tony coughed, looking about fifty shades of self conscious. “I uh-- I’ve decided I was being stupid about all of it and bothering people with my nonsense. Sorry.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “You decided you were being stupid? You decided it was nonsense?”

“Rhodey told me to either man up and ask Steve out or move the hell on.” Tony admitted. “And then he threatened to not only block my number but also to not come to Halloween, so uh-- yep. I’m moving the hell on.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky exploded and Tony jumped. “Tony! You’ve been complaining to me for like three months about how Steve’s thighs make you weak inside and how you’ve never wanted to be yee-hawed by an American icon before! What do you mean you’re moving on!?”

“Oh god.” Tony blushed bright red. “I forgot about the yee hawed conversation. I would like to formally apologize for that. Also, to formally apologize for being basically crazy lately. I thought you’d be happy I’m not going to bombard you with awkward Steve-centric text messages.”

“Formal apology accepted.” Bucky waved him off. “Seriously, though. What th’fuck do you mean you’re just moving on? You and Steve--”

“--would have been together by now if it was ever going to work.” Tony finished with a self deprecating shrug. “I feel like I’m definitely not subtle about wanting him and short of doing a song and dance and proposing to the guy, I don’t know where to go from here.”

“You certainly aren’t subtle.” Bucky agreed and Tony smiled a little.

“No, I’m not. I mean, I kicked Sam in the ass the other night so he wouldn’t sit next to me cos I wanted Steve there instead. I’ve made so many comments about Cap’s body it’s starting to get creepy and if I invite him down to the lab any more it's gonna be weird. If Steve hasn’t gotten the hint by now, than it’s because he’s ignoring it which means he’s not interested.”

Another of those shrugs. “It is what is it. I’ll wear pants with my costume instead of shorts and definitely not throw myself at him at the party. It’s fine.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” Bucky asked, starting to feel maybe a little guilty about not paying better attention all the times Tony had asked for (admittedly terrible) advice. “This isn’t just about climbin’ Steve’s cornstalk and makin’ fertile?”

Very few people in the world had heard Tony snort when he laughed, and it was a personal point of pride with Bucky that he managed to make Tony ugly snort at least once a week, so when Tony clapped a hand over his mouth and wailed in embarrassment Bucky couldn’t help laughing at him.

“M’sorry sugar. I know you hate that.”

“Oh no, it’s totally fine you go out of your way to make me snort.” Tony scowled. “And no, this isn’t about climbing Steve’s cornstalk and making fertile, whatever the hell that means. I really like him.”

“Like.” Bucky hesitated. “Like you like like him?”

“What are we, fourteen?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, I like like him. In fact I think I might even be in love--”

“Nope.” Bucky held up his hand to stop whatever Tony was going to say. He was not the one Tony should be making love confessions too, especially since Bucky knew Steve would plotz if he could hear it. “Nope, don’t tell me right now. In fact why don’t you tell me--”

--And then Bucky got an idea.

An awful idea.

Bucky got a wonderful, awful idea.

“--why don’t you tell me at the Halloween party tomorrow night.” he finished slowly. “Yeah. Yeah you should definitely tell me at the Halloween party. You should also definitely wear short shorts and not pants. We can talk in great detail about exactly how much you like Steve and how it’s definitely not just about sex and how you’re in love with him. I want to hear it all in great detail at the Halloween party.”

“No way.” Tony went back to working. “I am absolutely not pouring out my heart in the middle of a party while I’m drunk on whatever Halloween themed mixed drink Clint comes up with. Knowing me, I’ll end up shouting bullshit across the room and Steve will hear and I’ll never live that down.”

“Okay hear me out.” Bucky counted off on his fingers. “First, maybe you don’t get blind drunk on that neon toxic shit Clint makes. And second? Um. Steve isn’t coming to the party. He has a date with that barista down the way. So you’re fine. Third, we could always stand close enough that you aren’t shouting bullshit. Just a thought?”

“Seriously?” It was tough to tell if Tony was upset Steve had a date or relieved he wouldn’t have to worry about making a fool of himself. “He’s not coming? He has a date?”

“It’s not a serious date.” Bucky was quick to assure him. “Just something casual. He got invited to a party and didn’t want to be rude and turn it down. But I’m just sayin’. He won’t be there for you to worry about. You’ll be able to relax and have a good time and then we can talk all about how much you definitely are into Steve.”

“Um.” Tony frowned. “You seem a little amped to talk about how bad I wanna date your best friend.”

“Nonsense!” Bucky said far too loudly. “I’m only trying to be a good friend! This isn’t suspicious at all!”

“...okay.”

“I’ll be in the wolf costume.” Bucky said pointedly. “Wolf costume. Full mask, furry thing on my head. My arm will be covered cos it came with sleeves and cool gloves. Wolf costume. Find me.”

“Wolf costume.” Tony chuckled at Bucky’s over excitement. “Is Tasha Little Red Riding Hood?”

“Yeah, she sure is.” Bucky made a mental note to inform his sort-of girlfriend about his...change of plans… “Wolf costume. Don’t forget. I want to hear all about it. All about it. So many details.”

“Uh….” Tony still looked fairly confused when Bucky turned on his heel and dashed out of the lab, but he shrugged it off.

He’d probably act weird if he got to wrestle with Natasha too.

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

“Steve!” Bucky blew into Steve’s room holding his wolf costume, banding the door against the wall and effectively scaring the other super soldier half to death.

“Jesus, Bucky!” Steve yelped and scrambled to keep his towel up around his hips. “Learn to knock! I could’a been nekkid!”

“I’ve seen you nekkid before and it’s nothing special.” Bucky scoffed and shoved the costume into Steve’s arms. “You should skip out on the date with the barista and go to Tony’s party instead and you should wear my costume. All of it. Full mask, gloves, sleeves, all of it. Wear it, you’ll look great.”

“Wait.” Steve looked down at the costume and up at Bucky in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s okay, you’re pretty and that’s all that matters.”

“Thanks, I think. But seriously--”

“Seriously.” Bucky had put all of thirty seconds of thought into his plan and now had to scramble to come up with a valid reason why Steve should wear his costume. “It’s um-- well shit, it’s just too tight around my dick, Stevie. Doesn’t fit. I can’t return it and it seems like a shame to waste. So you wear it.”

“It's too tight around your dick.” Steve repeated and Bucky spread his hands helplessly. “I’m bigger than you are, Buck.”

“Alright there’s no reason to just outright lie about things now.” Bucky chuckled. “It’s too small on me, you should try it on and wear it. Ditch the date because the barista won’t want to listen to you talk about Tony all night and you know that’s what you’re gonna do.”

“But--”

“It has a full mask so you can stare like a creeper and Tony will never know.” he persisted, and Steve argued, “It’s longing, Bucky! I stare at him with longing!”

“Whatever. Wear the costume, come to the party.”

“...fine.” Steve said reluctantly. “But--”

“WEAR THE COSTUME AND COME TO THE PARTY STEVE!”

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

The Halloween party was in full swing by the time Bucky snuck down from his bedroom and posted up in a nearly hidden corner on the far side of the common area. He might not be the Winter Soldier anymore but he knew a thing or two about being invisible and being able to watch while not being watched and he put all of those skills to use as he blended into the shadows and behind a full curtain.

Tony had gone all out with decorations this year and the extravagance certainly helped Bucky’s covert operation. It was much easier to hide when Tony had literally swapped out their usual furniture for all black couches and chairs, had plastered the windows with black paint that reflected like stars and dimmed the lights to something gothic and fairly creepy.

Bucky was invisible, unseen but all seeing, a shadow darker than the rest as he lurked just beyond--

“Bucky.”

Bucky jumped at least a foot and almost knocked over a black shaded lamp as he scrambled to right himself, whirling around to glare at whoever had intruded on his space.

“Natasha.” Of course it was Natasha, there wasn’t a person alive that could snake up on the Winter Soldier except the Black Widow and really, that was just fine with Bucky. Especially when the Black Widow was dressed like the sexiest Little Red Riding Hood he had ever seen in his life.

“Natasha.” he repeated, less irritated and more lusty this time around. “Wow.”

“Don’t even look at me.” Natasha ordered and out of pure habit, Bucky’s head snapped up and around so he wasn’t looked at her. “You and I have a problem, darling.”

“Not from where I’m standing.” Bucky denied, sneaking a look down the top of Natasha’s blouse. “You look amazin’, Tash. Who knew I was into fairy tale dames? You need a walk to Grandma’s house, baby doll?”

Natasha’s full lips twitched like she wanted to smile, but her green eyes still flashed in annoyance. “I’m wearing the worlds most ridiculous costume because you told me you would wear an equally ridiculous costume. Why is it I’m parading around looking like a stripper at Disneyland and you are wearing normal clothes? And while we’re at it, why is Steve is the wolf?”

“Steve's here?” Bucky craned his neck to see if he could spot a giant wolf among the party goers. “Ho ho ho my god he actually showed up! This is going to be amazing.”

“Yes, he showed up.” Natasha raised a highly irritated eyebrow. “And since I assumed you were the one in the costume, I went up and did something extremely embarrassing and now I’ll never be able to look Steve in the eye again.”

“Wait.” Bucky frowned. “You went up and did something embarrassing to Steve? What did you do? What’d you say? Not t’sound jealous or nothin’ but I figured you could tell it wasn’t me in there.”

“I figured you would tell me you changed your mind!”

“... yeah, that’s fair.” Bucky cleared his throat and offered an apologetic smile. Somehow in his glee over his wonderful awful idea, letting Nat know about the switch up had completely slipped his mind. “Real sorry about that, Tasha. I meant to tell you.”

“You know what, it’s fine.” Natasha’s smile finally won out. “I know every inch of you and it was immediately obvious it’s not you in that hairy thing. I went up and slapped Steve on his butt and told him that doing more squats would keep his tail perky.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky made a show of checking his own butt and Natasha rolled her eyes. “You know every inch of me, huh? So what was the giveaway that it's Stevie in there and not me/”

“The pants don’t fit right.” Natasha made a vague but purposeful gesture around the front of her costume. “He’s not as big as you and it was a little baggy where it shouldn’t have been baggy.”

Bucky burst out laughing and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it. “Damn Tasha, you sure know how to make a fella feel good about himself.”

“Mm-hmm, and that’s why you love me, right?” Natasha winked. “Cos I could pick your package out of a crowd?”

Bucky winked right back and drawled, “That’s just one reason why I love you, baby. Just one in a whole damn list.”

Natasha opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, something that made her nervous judging by the way she bit at her lip, but just then the semi spooky music cut out over the loudspeakers and was replaced by a rather rock and roll version of Thriller.

The ceiling of the common area opened up across several panels treating everyone to a blast of cold night air, a shot of the beautifully starred night sky, and the incoming blur that was the Iron Man suit.

Everyone in the room started cheering, the music cranked up louder and even Natasha couldn’t help clapping as Tony came blasting through the rooftop and slammed into the ground in that classic pose--

--an popped out of his suit looking fresh as a daisy, clad in nothing more than an Ironette Dancers uniform.

Bucky’s grin stretched to something approaching manic.

Steve was so fucked.

Tonight would be awesome.

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

There was nothing Tony loved more than making a grand entrance and since Halloween parties required the grandest of entrances, he thoroughly enjoyed stepping out of his suit to screams and cheers and loud loud whistles when everyone saw the Ironette costume.

Yeah. I look amazing.

The boots were the most uncomfortable things Tony had ever worn, followed closely by the sheer stockings that were giving him the wedgie to end all wedgies but god damn did his legs look great, and that was all that really mattered.

….well, that and checking around to see if Steve had ditched his date and come to the party at the last minute.

Tony moved through the party shaking hands and shaking butts up against various friends, laughing at the whoops and hollers in his direction and posing for about a million different pictures. The entire time he didn’t stop scanning the crowd, looking for a pair of ridiculously beautiful blue eyes and the sort of arms that did things to his already compromised heart.

Every Halloween party previous, Steve had objected and protested and all but thrown a fit when it came to wearing a costume, but even if Mr. America had capitulated tonight and dressed up, Tony was pretty sure he’d be able to identify Steve in a dark room with a blind fold on and while wearing winter gloves.

Not that he was obsessed or anything.

Nah, that wasn’t obsessed, right?

“Tony!” A oiled up and loincloth wearing Sam butted into Tony’s thoughts and into his space, wrapping an around around his waist and hauling him up into a hug. “How did you know I wanted to see you in a bra and booty shorts? It’s like a Halloween miracle!”

“Don’t look so surprised, I think we’ve established I favor almost-nudity over regular clothing any day.” Tony leaned in and sniffed at Sam’s breath. “And you...have been drinking Sour Green Apple jello shots? Is that how Clint got you into a loincloth?”

“Clint got me into a loincloth by saying he’d love to swing from my vine.” Sam said flatly and Tony’s laugh was equal parts horrified and hysterical. “And as far as jello shots, Clint’s got a tray somewhere somewhere---” Sam caught his boyfriend’s arm and dragged him over, plucking two of the shots off the plate and pushing them into Tony’s palm. “Start with these and we will get you more.”

“Hey hey good lookin.” Clint waggled his eyebrows and looked Tony over with a jello-shot enhanced leer. “Whatcha got cookin’? I am loving this almost nipply look from you, Tony. Why don’t you do a high kick and we’ll see if everything stays in those shorts?”

“I’m not drunk enough for your terrible come ons or for what passes as witty banter.” Tony informed the archer, tossing back the alcohol and grimacing over the sweetly sour aftertaste. “But give me another six of these and we’ll be fine. I might even high kick in the corner while you swing from Sam’s vine later tonight.”

“WHAT!?” Sam snatched the tray right out of Clint’s hands and shoved the entire thing at Tony. “Drink man, drink! Right now! Clint, get another tray!”

“Chug chug chug chug!” Clint shouted and Tony pounded one and then two more of the neon colored gelatin. “MORE MORE MO--”

“That’s quite enough of that.” Pepper Potts had no business looking so sultry as Poison Ivy, but her sudden appearance and costume of strategically placed leaves sure managed to shut the three men up. “Tony! Nice costume, we are seeing quite a bit more of you than expected tonight.”

“I was gonna say the same thing about you, Ms. Potts.” Sam’s eyebrows were near to climbing off his head. “Can I also say, I have always been an avid gardener and would very much appreciate the chance to water your--”

“Stop!” Pepper laughed and pushed Sam away. “I thought you and Clint were in love, how is that you both are trying to get every person at this party in bed?”

“It’s the jello-shots, Pep.” Tony said solemnly, and passed her one. “Bottoms up.”

“Bottoms up.” she agreed, then hooked her arm through Tony’s and dragged him away from Sam and Clint’s wildly inappropriate influence. “You texted me something half hysterical about confessing your feelings to Steve tonight. Let me guess, you thought the Ironette costume was a good way to break the ice?”

“Not to Steve.” Tony finished his last jello shot and tossed the container away. “Gotta talk to Bucky about it first. He finally realized when I say I’d like to ride Steve into the floor, I mean it in a cherishing sort of way. He said he wanted to hear how I felt about our resident Captain and that seems right, you know? Get permission from the best friend before taking someone on a date?”

“Could I offer a little advice?” Pepper adjusted a leaf before it slipped a little further south than intended. “Maybe you leave out the sex references when you ask Bucky how he feels about you pursuing this thing with Steve. And by the way, the fact that Bucky wants to talk about it means he probably approves.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Tony spotted the wolf costume posted up by a column and staring his way so he raised his hand in a quick wave. “Wish me luck?”

“You’ll be fine so long as you swear not to take advice from Clint or Sam.” Pepper kissed Tony’s cheek then wiped the smear of lip gloss off. “Go on. If you disappear from the party, I’ll assume Bucky gave you permission and you’re off doing unspeakable things to Captain Rogers.”

“Steve isn’t here tonight.” Tony snatched a glass of something bright purple and bubbling off a passing tray and gulped it down. “So I won’t talk to him until tomorrow. But if you don’t see us for the next forty eight hours, feel free to assume all sorts of dirty things.”

“Charming.” Pepper huffed. “Just go on and get to your love confession already.”

“Wish me luck!” Tony blew her a kiss. “If Rhodey shows up, tell him to find me!”

Pepepr shouted something over the noise that Tony didn’t catch, but he wasn’t too worried about it. He was buzzing already, the jello shots going right to his head along with the driving beat and flashing lights and the cloying scent of too many mingled perfumes.

Halloween was so much fun and it was sort of the perfect night to put feelings into words. He could talk to Bucky tonight, talk to Steve tomorrow and theoretically start the holiday season with a hot blonde boyfriend and honestly isn’t that what everyone wanted for Christmas?

Ho ho holy crap was Bucky big in that costume, big and sort of scary with the full mask and clawed fingers and the getting drunk and horny part of Tony’s brain definitely loved the way the super soldier’s thighs strained at the black pants.

God he needed laid. If things didn’t work out with Steve, maybe he really would take Sam and Clint up on the whole vine swinging thing.

“Hey!” Tony waved at the Bucky wolf and stepped right into the big soldiers space so he didn’t have to shout so loud. “That costume is amazing! Where did you find it?”

The answer was garbled behind the mask and Tony shook his head, waving off whatever Bucky was going to say.

“Actually, I don’t care all that much, sorry. I’ve been thinking all day about what I wanted to say tonight, and I’ve already had a bunch of alcohol that should kick in here in about fifteen minutes and put me on my ass, so just listen alright?”

Tony took a deep breath, adjusted the straps of his Ironette bra top and blurted it out all at once.

“It’s not just sex! I don’t just want sex with Steve! I’m pretty sure I’d make that guy breakfast every day for the rest of my life just so he’d smile at me in the morning. And yeah he’s gorgeous but he’s also the nicest person I know. Even when he’s being a Yankee Doodle Dumbass, he’s still so damn nice it makes me feel like a terrible person daily.”

Bucky held up a hand paw and Tony batted it away. “No let me finish before I lose my nerve. Steve is nothing like what I expected from all the stories and he’s so much better than I ever imagined and I think my favorite days are the ones he spends in the lab with me. I end up talking too much and he probably thinks I’m crazy but he still comes down every day with a sandwich or a drink and I’m pretty sure I love him for it.”

“Tony--”

“I’m pretty sure I love him.” Tony repeated, his eyes wide as he realized the enormity and the truth of the words all at once. “I do. Yeah, I definitely love Steve and it’s killing me that he went out on a date tonight because that just confirms he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about all the hints I’ve been laying out, but if I have your permission--”

“Tony!”

“Buck, please just let me say this.” Tony snagged another something alcoholic, this one in a jaw dropping shade of shocking orange, and pounded that as well, wiping at his lips before almost yelling, “If I have your permission to date your best friend, I think I’m like four dates from marrying him!”

Wolf Bucky was very silent and very still and Tony chewed at the inside of his cheek nervously, then tugged his booty shorts down a little bit further and offered a rueful, “You’d probably be able to take me seriously if I wasn’t wearing Iron Man lingerie, huh?”

And then Bucky straightened up a full two inches taller than he was supposed to and just as Tony’s heart was starting to sink because he only knew one person who was that tall...

....the mask came off and he found himself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes....

...and Tony’s heart plummeted to the bottom of his knee high, stiletto heeled gold and red boots.

“Tony?” Steve asked slowly, carefully, and Tony shut his eyes because no no no no NO and then opened up into a wide grin and finger guns and announced, “I thought Bucky’s ass looked surprisingly peach like in those pants. Dead give away, I should have known it was you.”

“Tony--” Steve said a little helplessly, but Tony just turned on his heel and walked away, cutting through the party and ignoring any cat calls and offers of more alcohol as he made a beeline for the door.

“Oh my god, what the fuck….” Steve stripped off the wolf gloves and dragged his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck just happened--”

“Hey.” Bucky clapped a big hand on Steve’s shoulder as he came up behind him. “So how was that?”

“Buck-- Tony-- What-- How--”

“Look, you have two options here.” Bucky said firmly. “Option A, you go after Tony. Option B, I go after Tony.”

“You go after Tony?” Steve repeated numbly and Bucky made a vulgar, explicit motion with his hips and promised, “Your bed, Steve. I swear I’ll do it.”

“No. No. Nope.” Steve shook his head. “Nope. I’m going after him right now. You stay the hell away.”

“Get along little doggie.” Bucky gave Steve a sharp swat on the butt as he passed. “Go get Slutty Iron Man.”

Steve all but ran out the same door Tony had gone through and Bucky grinned to himself, picking up a bowl of candy corn from the nearby snack table and shoveling big handfuls into his mouth.

“You planned that, didn’t you?” Natasha popped up at Bucky’s elbow and he swore out loud, spilling candy corn all over the floor when he startled. “At ease, soldier. I don’t know if it’s worrisome you never hear me coming or if it’s sweet you trust me so much I don’t set off any danger alarms for the Winter Soldier.”

“Let’s go with sweet.” Bucky traded the bowl of candy for Natasha’s hand, picking it up and kissing her knuckles. “And I didn’t plan anything.”

“No?” she challenged. “You didn’t give convince Tony that Steve was on a date while goading him into spilling his heart about Steve, and then convince Steve to cancel the date while pressuring him into wearing your costume?”

“Costume was too small for my dick.” Bucky grumbled. “Plus, it was pissin’ me off they both talked to me about each other, but never actually talked to each other. I heard so much of their bitchin’, I couldn’t even get you naked without hearing their voices.”

Natasha muffled a laugh and Bucky squeezed at her hand. “Not that it stopped me from wantin’ to see you naked though. No worries there.”

“I adore you.” Natasha clutched at Bucky’s shirt and yanked him down for a long kiss. “Let’s go get me drunk.”

“Yep.” Bucky was very in favor of that idea. “Yep, lets get you drunk.”

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

“Tony.” Steve had to jog to catch up with Tony, and it was probably only the four inch heels on Tony’s ridiculous boots that kept the brunette from breaking into an all out sprint to get away from the Captain. “Tony wait-- honey just wait a second--”

“Steve, I really don’t want to talk to you right now.” In another moment it would have been hysterical how much Tony’s butt wiggled as he hurried up the stairs, and in another moment Steve would have stopped to ogle the hint off cheek he could see under the tight red shorts.

But in this moment, all Steve could think about was getting Tony to stop and listen, so he huffed a breath and took the last several steps three at a time until he was right behind his favorite genius.

“Tony.” he grabbed at Tony’s hand --gently gently because the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally leave bruises when he’d much rather be leaving kisses-- and tugged him to a stop. “Please just listen--”

“I don’t want to--”

It was an accident, a happy accident as they say, but still an accident.

Tony tried to yank away and Steve reflexively tightened his grip and pulled. Tony was already off balance thanks to the heeled boots and Steve was overly strong even when he was being careful.

It was an accident, and Steve didn’t mean to yank Tony right up into his body but suddenly they were there pressed together and Steve did the only thing he could ever imagine doing all those times he’d thought about Tony falling into his arms.

Steve kissed him.

And oh oh oh Tony kissed him back.

“Tony.” Steve sighed, moaned, wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and crushed their mouths together and Tony made the sort of high pitched, desperate noise he would later deny to his dying breath and kissed him back.

“Yesyesyes.” Steve drove them backwards into the closest wall, a careful hand at the back of Tony’s head so he wouldn’t bump too hard, his other hand grasping at Tony’s waist, sliding over the silk-satin hem of shorty shorts and then further down to palm over the frankly ridiculous rise and curve of Tony’s rear. “Tony, oh my god--”

Tony hooked his fingers into the fur at Steve’s collar and ripped him closer, arching his back to push his butt further into Steve’s hand and dragging his teeth at Steve’s bottom lip. In his boots Tony was only a few inches shorter than the Captain and he used the added height to his advantage, hooking his foot around Steve’s calf and shoving their hips together.

Oh fuck there was that All American muscle, that Grade A home grown beef, definitely eight and maybe hopefully possibly nine inches of--

“Do you know you’re saying all that out loud?” Steve pulled away, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “Because that’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.” Tony denied and coaxed Steve back, rubbing purposefully against the bulge growing thicker by the second behind the zippered fly. “Not when I’ve been dreaming about you for months now.”

“Dreaming about me….” Steve’s next kiss was almost sweet, almost tender despite the way he fit his thigh between Tony’s knees and urged him to move, shifting him back and forth until Tony was outright grinding down against him and whimpering into Steve’s mouth.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous.” Steve buried his fingers into Tony’s hair to disrupt the perfect style, tugging at the strands and licking the sweetness from Tony’s mouth. “Tony you are so--so--” Steve’s entire frame shuddered when Tony tipped his head so their foreheads met, their noses barely bumping.

“Listen.” Loathe to pull away even far enough to meet Tony’s eyes, Steve hovered just above Tony’s lips as he whispered. “Listen, listen listen. Tony. You are-- you are incredible. And I don’t want sex with you.”

“What--?!”

“No no.” Steve shook his head in embarrassment. “No I mean, I don’t just want sex with you. I do want to do-- to do that sort of thing. But not just that sort of thing. My god, I’m bad at this--”

“You’re better than you think you are.” Tony inched even closer. “Don’t stop talking.”

“Okay.” Steve licked his lips, still close to enough to Tony to end up running his tongue along Tony’s lip as well and they both moaned into a soft kiss. “Okay. I want more than to just sleep with you. Wanna wake up in the morning and make you coffee, and I want to do that whether you make me breakfast or not. And you’re beautiful and so so sweet. I can’t believe I ever thought you were selfish and self centered, what the fuck was I thinking?”

“Language.” Tony teased and Steve kissed him just to shut him up-- and because he would never get enough of Tony’s mouth on his own.

“You make me want to be a better person, Tony.” Steve was almost whispering now. “A better Captain America, a better me. My favorite moments are when you let me into the lab, that’s like your sanctuary and you trust me in it and that’s amazing. I don’t ever understand half of what you’re talking about and I have no idea what quantum supremacy is or how the hell your nano tech works but I want you to talk about it all the time because you are so gorgeous when you talk about your science. I don’t understand it but I understand how happy it makes you and that's all I care about.”

“Oh holy shit, you are good at this.” Tony choked out a laugh that was almost a sob and Steve gathered him up tighter until there wasn’t even an inch between their bodies and they were sharing each inhale of air.

“Sweetheart, I would cancel a thousand dates just to watch you laugh.” Steve murmured. “And if you’re only four dates from marrying me, I’m only two from proposing, I swear to God I am Tony. Let me take you out on a date and I’ll prove it.”

Tony was quiet, stunned speechless with his heart pounding and maybe tears in his eyes and when Steve asked, “Is that-- is that alright to say?” Tony managed a faintly sassy, “It’s the Ironette costume, isn’t it? You just can’t resist it?”

“It’s you, Tony.” Steve said firmly, and then with a smile bordering on lecherous as he groped at the booty shorts and down to the sheer nylon. “But the outfit helps.”

“...can I tell you I love you?” Tony asked shyly, and Steve returned just as shyly, “Only if I can say it first.”

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

Natasha was very very drunk, drunk enough that when Bucky dragged her away from the party and hurried her up the hallway to the bedroom she announced, “Soldier if you want me moving faster, you’re just gonna to have to carry me.”

“With pleasure.” Bucky swooped up the giggling red head like she didn’t weigh a damn thing. “Your room or mine, baby doll?”

“Yours.” Natasha decided, hooking her arms around Bucky’s neck and tugging him in for a kiss. “I feel extra safe and warm in your bed. Sometimes I don’t ever want to leave.”

“Oh.” Bucky sighed a little and kissed her so so softly, knowing full well Natasha was only this open because she was drunk and in the morning they would be back to their usual, carefully worded interactions. He loved it anyway, loved when Natasha was pliant and sweet and forgot to be careful with what she said.

“That makes me real happy.” he whispered and Natasha scrunched up her nose and kissed him again. “C’mon love, I’ll take you to my bed.”

“What do you think happened to Tony and Steve?” she wanted to know as Bucky carried her up the stairs. “Do you think everything worked out? I bet they are doing the deed right now.”

Natasha’s green eyes lit up and she grinned, silly and tipsy. “I bet they are doing the horizontal monster mash as we speak!”

“Fuck me you’re cute when you’re drinking. But as far as whether or not Steve and Tony are doing any sort of horizontal mash--” Bucky sidestepped a discarded Ironette boot, then dodged what looked like the remains of sheer stockings and half a butt cheek from tiny gold and red shorts.

“You know what? I think I don’t want to know. I know it’s supposed to be a scary night but some things--” there was the Ironette bra flung over a plant.

“--yeah, some things are just--” the wolf pants with the zipper literally ripped off.

“--oh my god. Yeah, that’s too horrifying to think about. Happy Halloween, let’s never talk about Steve and Tony together ever again.”

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

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thewitchsstudy · 4 years

Text

An Old Opinion Research Essay

Made this last school year. It’s about MLMs (Multi-level Marketing) and why I think they should be illegal

Thousands of dollars. You don’t make thousands, you pay thousands. You don’t sell thousands, you recruit thousands. You don’t get paid to work, you pay to work. Welcome to MLMs, the most unethical world of business where everything is a scam. It deserves to be banned, gone from the reach of the people who run them. For the safety of the workers.

MLMs- Multi-level Marketing- companies pop up a lot in the modern day. Have you ever gotten a Facebook message from somebody, likely with an eye bleeding amount of emojis, claiming to know you from somewhere pitching a product? That’s an MLM worker, no doubt. While most see them as annoying at worst, these companies that these workers come from have been proven, as from testimony by former workers, the FTC, and multiple state lawsuits, to have destroyed finances, careers, friendships, and lives while breaking the law. Many have been accused of or been charged with illegal activity- operating a pyramid scheme.

Any amount of research will bring up how horrible some companies can get. Being repulsed at the practices is one thing, but how do we prevent them from harming workers? I argue a full ban on the practice. With already tight regulations and monitoring by the FTC, MLMs are in hot water. Still, illegal pyramid schemes manage to bypass the law and operate until it’s too late (hello Advocare, like your lawsuit?). The best way to deal with MLMs is simply banning the practice.

Bans may not be the best, but they can be necessary. Prepare to feel a mix of shame, disguise, anger, and bitter hopelessness for humanity.

Corporate can be a dictator. Many people, including former workers, heavily argue the point that many MLMs are morally and legally wrong. They have no base pay and hide under a “make as much as you want” claim. In reality, workers buy products from the company to sell to consumers, and when they don’t sell, often due to the terrible quality and horrible company reputation, they are essentially being paid under minimum wage with negative wage counts! Financial reports show that, during a year in an MLM, the majority percent of employees lost money, some broke even with joining packages and product costs (which cost thousands of dollars), and less than 5% made money, and less than 1% reached or exceeded the annual national minimum wage ($15,080)

In addition, workers who quit MLMs are often shamed by supervisors and friends still in the company. They get harassed online through texts and Facebook for breaking free. Friendships are broken in split seconds. Lives are left fragments of what they once were. Families fight and argue and refuse to communicate with each other due to associating with these companies. A video by Vice News, which is highly recommended to watch, tells the stories of women who have left MLMs and the shame that was placed on them. In addition to their terrible financial situation, it documents how much shame was put on these women who are left friendless, leaving friends for the company and leaving the company with fake “friends”. MLM workers are encouraged to sell to family and friends, and one worker has stated that “every conversation turned into a sales pitch”. Any human would leave a friend who did that.

On the other hand, people argue that MLM products are legit and that they are perfectly legal and not pyramid schemes. They say that, without legal action, MLMs are fine to operate. They argue that a pyramid scheme is a solid definition that requires many boxes to be checked, and that MLMs don’t check enough. They may call them “Anti-pyramids”, which is a funnel and shows more on the top than the bottom and the money still goes to the one guy on the bottom and that’s still a horrible business model for a dozen reasons, but that’s beyond the point. These could have good backing to them. When the research is done, however, even on social media, these people are often corporate workers who run these MLMs and bank millions or other workers (who many call “Huns”) who are in denial about their workplace being a scam (they may also be arguing this case even if they understand the truth).

It is also important to understand that the other side will defend their word with flamethrower and shield, even if the flamethrower is a knockoff that doesn’t even work and the shield is a sad excuse for a thing made of atoms. Workers post pictures online of their new “expensive” things they bought with money from their “job”. Many have debunked these as fakes, including noted images of clearly empty bags that were supposedly filled with stuff (classic fake-rich tactic right there). This is easily found, since if the poster refuses to show a top view or take the items out, you don’t trust that anything is in the bag. Many in the Anti-MLM community realize and share their findings on how the evidence and claims made by these people are next to nothing in value. It makes them incredibly petty and decays their point. Like rotting flesh.

Most of that evidence is little slaps to MLMs. The big problems come when states start suing them. Oh, yeah, MLMs from Advocare to Young Living to LulaRoe have been sued for years. States, ranging from Idaho to California, have accused these companies of operating illegal pyramid schemes. Warehouses have sued LulaRoe over not receiving payment for storage. LulaRoe has been sued over cross-state taxation (taxing buyers in states with no tax who purchase from workers in states with tax). Federal government agencies have reprimanded MLMs as well, most noticeably in a case against Young Living where a man died in a distillery due to severe safety code violations, such as lack of training and not providing respirators in the high-chemical environment. Note, these are only some well-known companies and their well-known lawsuits.

Deception is rampant in MLMs, and consumers are being lied to almost constantly. Young Living used to claim a Seed to Seal standard and having 100% pure essential oils. Not only was it revealed that they source from multiple farms, which makes the Seed to Seal claim highly unlikely, independent lab tests show birch and jasmine oils produced by the company were, in fact, synthetic. Worse, one study done by the State of California showed higher than acceptable levels of a chemical known for producing cyanide inside the body in Young Living’s oils. This was not mentioned anywhere by Young Living- not on the bottle, not online, not anywhere, which is an offense in California. They were, like previously, sued over this serious health and safety matter since they sold their products in the state.

It should be obvious that Young Living’s products are not the most trustworthy, regardless of your opinion on essential oils. That could be applied to all MLM products. LulaRoe leggings are notorious for ripping, even in the first wear. Herbalife’s powders and mixes, especially their soup reportedly, have been called by people such as John Oliver as tasting “like wood shavings” (this was a continued joke in his televised segment on Multi-level Marketing, another good watch for more info). When looking at prices, such as LulaRoe leggings costing $30+ bucks for a quality $10 Walmart leggings with better, non eye-bleeding designs far surpass, the word “scam” pops up in New York City lights.

John Oliver in his segment also went into detail on how, while distributors lose thousands on MLMs they work for, their founders and CEOs can afford meetings that I can only describe as an 80s metal concert if everybody there was on some serious drugs. Some things that occur range from overly enthusiastic live announcers, CEOs coming out as “Welcome to the Jungle” plays, and screaming at the grave of a man named Joe Nobody, dated 1952- about how much he could’ve done with his life if he had just joined his MLM. Are laughing out loud at the thought of all this? It’s real, and you can find the Joe Nobody clip and more in the John Oliver episode online. It’s on-the-floor-laughing levels of ridiculous. One can only imagine being at any MLM meeting, host, worker, or random guy, in person is an accurate simulation of an acid trip for all parties involved.

How does this add up to a pyramid scheme? With the previously stated knowledge in mind, look at the employees. Those Facebook messages from before? Those can be recruitment messages. These often target mothers, those of color, and those of specific religions depending on the MLM. For example, LulaRoe often has single or unemployed mothers as distributors. On its website, the FTC notes that promises of extravagant lifestyles, wealth, and “high-pressure tactics” during recruiting are prominent red flags for any business. Guess who milks these until the cow runs red? MLM recruiters. While I don’t trust Reddit for factual info often, there are credible accounts of this practice on such subreddits as r/AntiMLM and r/LuLaNo.

The big problem is that MLMs may pay their employees for recruitment. The FTC says that “Your recruits, the people they recruit, and so on, become your sales network, or ‘downline’. If the MLM is not a pyramid scheme, it will pay you based on your sales to retail customers, without having to recruit new distributors”. The way it often works when a Pyramid Scheme is in place is that those higher up in the pyramid get a percent of commission from those they have recruited, those recruit’s recruits, and so on. Pyramid schemes require active participation for this often only check, which requires more money for products that will never sell and, as the saying goes, “get left in a garage.” The FTC notices this is a practice utilized by pyramid schemes. A former LulaRoe (funny how LulaRoe pops up so much) worker high up on the corporate ladder on the previously mentioned Vice News clip claims to have been receiving these commissions, with checks from the company proving it. MLMs have systems of ranks, which are often named after anything from crystals to management positions, and guess what those more than not focus on? How many people you recruited. Higher up you are, the higher percent of commission, the more money you get.

That, fellow readers, are the bones of pyramid schemes. You don’t grow a business with a stable customer base and happy employees, you make more people fall into it and destroy their lives. Former work testimonies say that supervisors actively encourage recruiting over selling. It’s a cycle of new and quitting members.

It should be obvious. Horrible quality, product not worth the price, constant lying to consumers, lawsuits galore, and the foundation of a pyramid scheme and its culture are what make MLMs scams, unethical and borderline illegal. We, as consumers and workers, should call for a ban on this business model to protect sales and underclass workers from a practice that harbors illegal schemes. If a company wishes to grow, it should in an ethical way that isn’t a pyramid scheme coverup! The FTC says that pyramid schemes “can look remarkably like legitimate MLM business opportunities” and so taking part in any MLM is a risky venture to the highest degree. Even legit MLMs have the same issues as pyramid schemes, since the lack of buying due to terrible reputation causes equal wage and financial issues as stated earlier. MLM and pyramid scheme operators milk money from their employees. As Bo Burham’s song “Repeat Stuff” says, they’ll “stop beating this dead horse when it stops spitting out money.” We need to stop them from beating the dead horse of MLMs so they can’t collect the money it spits out at them. And the best way to get rid of a dead horse is to bury it.

Bury the horse, they cannot get the money. Will you grab a shovel and start burying it, or will you watch as people continue to beat it?

#thewitchsstudy #mlms #antimlm #anti mlm #mlm scam #essay #research #research papers #opinion papers #school papers #please do not think I am against gay people when I say I am antiMLM #I mean the business practice not lgbt #hell I am lgbt #studyblr

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kariachi · 6 years

Text

Another commission! This time over 11k of Martin Mystery/Ben 10 crossover for @thenixkat.

A young man walks calmly through the forest. It’s been a nice afternoon, so far- hot and muggy with little cloud cover to prevent the summer sun from streaming through the trees. There’s a notable lack of birdsong, and just a quarter mile down the path he’d found a crow lying on the concrete, but he’s not worried. It’d winged off as soon as he nudged it with his shoe. Anyway, birds were supposed to call when predators were around, and if something was wrong in the park surely an alert would’ve been put out by now. It’s too nice of a day to waste time worrying over nothing.

Something glints in the sunlight, off to the side of a curve in the path near a large outcropping of rock and the man’s curiosity gets the better of him. A glass bottle maybe? Some loser littering out here, ruining things for the wildlife and the guests? He comes closer, hand resting on the stone, focused on the shining object. Yes, definitely a loser, but not as much a loser as him. After all, anyone littering here probably has a job, an education, a lover, isn’t living in their parents’ basement like he is. They’ve never ruined everything for everybody, but he has, hasn’t he? Just one failure after another starting with being born at all, such a waste….

He’s so caught in his own head, he doesn’t even see the teeth.

“-but of course the police don’t believe them, because what civilian cop is going to believe the person in the house you were breaking into was murdered by donuts-”

“Hey guys!”

“Oh thank God.” Diana just about collapsed with relief right on the moving walkway at their alien friend’s timely arrival. Martin had been talking about this movie for two days and now that he’d realized she wasn’t going to watch it with him he’d decided to just recap the entire fucking thing. “Hi Billy.”

“Hi Billy.”

“Hey Billy!” The grin on Martin’s face could not be removed, only turned to new victims. “I was just telling Diana about this new movie that came out- Attack of the Killer Donuts.”

“Ooo,” Billy grinned back, “sounds interesting.”

“It is! It’s got almost all the classic B-horror tropes! I’ll stream it for you after we get back from this mission.”

“Speaking of which,” Diana interrupted before her only shot at a moment without breakfast foods as a main topic vanished into the ether (Java wasn’t helping, he’d given up and watched the film within the first two hours and was now on Martin’s side, the traitor), “any idea what we’re getting into?”

“MOM’s got the details,” the alien said, “but I do know Osmosians are involved, so I printed off these pamphlets.” As he spoke he distributed the pieces of paper. The whole team’s brows raised as one at the first item listed. ‘Bring food.’ “Security Chief Jones was involved in their original production, so you can trust the information to be accurate.”

“Uh, thanks, Billy.” They were all still focused on the pamphlets, reading through the surprisingly short list of safety tips. They mostly seemed to boil down to ‘don’t let them get hungry’ and ‘don’t piss them off’.

“Don’t worry, Eva says they’re really nice people.”

For once MOM didn’t appear to have some experiment going, no guests hanging around, and Martin was visibly thrown off by it. Instead she was checking three backpacks stuffed to the brim with gear, from water canteens hanging off the sides to what were probably area maps and what looked like way too much food.

“Jones not kidding,” Java said as they watched her shift things in one of the packs so another Ziploc of trail mix could be fit inside.

“Hi MOM,” Martin then said, coming forward with a grin and snatching up one of the packs, hefting it over his shoulder. “What sort’ve mission have we got today? Saharan zombies? Jungle werewolves?” MOM just raised a brow, zipping the pack she’d been fiddling with shut and circling her desk to take a seat.

“Not quite, Martin.” She picked a folder up off the desk and handed it to Diana as she and Java joined them. “You’ll be investigating a series of missing persons cases at Star Ridge State Park in the eastern United States.” The boys peered over Diana’s shoulders as she flipped through the folder, grabbing packs for herself and Java with her tail. Inside were numerous police reports describing the disappearances of nine people, including photos of the missing. A pair of girls no older than her and Martin. A man in his mid-twenties. Middle-aged, elderly, children, there didn’t seem to be any pattern to the missing.

Only one particularly stood out, and the team all glanced at each other when they got to them. The photo showed an adult, they supposed, with short antlers, a muzzle, and tufted tail. Their skin was thick and tawny brown, covered in scutes, and they had teeth like something out of the Ice Age. One eye, the left, was marred with scarring and left a milky pink.

“I take it this is why Billy was talking about Osmosians?” Diana asked, and MOM nodded.

“The park contains a large pack,” she said, “and a good portion of it is their territory. You’ll have to be careful and respectful when inside, Martin.”

“Hey!”

“Osmosians do not suffer disrespect well, especially not established packs. They and the local tribe have happily agreed to work with us, so don’t make either one regret it.” Her tone turned sharp on the last portion, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course,” Diana said, and Java nodded beside her. MOM just hummed back at them.

“The pack has called in a team themselves,” she continued, “you’ll be meeting them at the Greenwich Entrance.”

“Wait,” Martin said as she opened the door out, “why would they call in someone else if we’re already coming?”

“It’s an Ossy thing.”

“Is even in pamphlet,” Java said, holding his own copy up, and he was right.

#9. It’s an Ossy thing, roll with it.

The trip in was uneventful, and mostly consisted of Martin trying to work out what sort’ve paranormal mess they were walking into and Diana- who at this point wasn’t even going to argue about the paranormal with him, he was right over half the time and she just ended up listening to him gloat about it- trying to make him drive like a person who knew how. Meanwhile Java appeared to have tuned them both out about an hour ago, pulling out a novel and burying himself in that for most of the drive.

Entering the park revealed a lovely sight. Everything was in full bloom- green vines with trumpet-shaped pink-orange flowers creeping high on the red brick archway that marked the entrance, native flowers a mass of color beneath the entrance sign. Trees all various shades of rich greens. Bees buzzed, butterflies fluttered, and in pride of place sat a large fountain topped with a sculpture of a doe and fawns.

Two people who were probably human stood at the base of the fountain, a distinction made because most of the people they were watching off to the side very much weren’t. One was, an elderly man with dark skin, but out of the other three one was clearly an Osmosian, like the victim they had the photo of, while another’s blue fur blatantly marked him as alien, and the last had teeth they could see flash when they talked even as they came to a stop several yards away. At their feet was a large blue, dog? thing? maybe? There wasn’t that much time to dwell on it, because one of the humans was a girl their age and so as soon as the keys were out of the ignition Martin practically teleported to her side. The redhead looked both surprised and unimpressed by his sudden appearance.

“Hey there, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name’s Martin-” True to form he didn’t seem to notice how the girl and the brunet beside her were side eyeing him. He also didn’t notice his sister storming over until she had him by the ear and was yanking him away from them.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s a moron,” she said, holding out her free hand to shake. “I take it you’re the other team that got called in?”

“More like Kevin got called in and we came along for the ride, but yeah,” the girl replied with a firm handshake. “Gwen Tennyson, this is my cousin Ben- also a moron-”

“Hey!”

“-and over there are Rook, Kevin, and the dog is Zed.” Diana nodded, gesturing to her own team.

“I’m Diana Lombard, this is my brother, Martin Mystery, and that’s Java.” Java waved with a smile and Ben waved back.

“Wait, ‘Martin Mystery’?” Kevin and Rook were returning to the group, a map clenched in Rook’s hands and Zed at their heels. There was a toothy and slightly sinister grin on Kevin’s face. “The Martin Mystery and company?” Java and Diana shared a wary look as Martin puffed up like a rooster and held out a hand, gaze lingering briefly on the tight shirt and monstrous teeth.

“The one and only.” Kevin’s toothy grin only got more worrying, even as he accepted the handshake.

“I’m Eva Jones’s son.” And Martin deflated like a popped balloon, which was always amusing for the others. There was no way the Chief of Security’s son was going to be in awe. Something that was all but confirmed when he continued talking. “Mom has told me so many stories about you.”

“What kind of stories?” Martin asked, eyes narrowing slightly, and Kevin shrugged.

“Varies. Sometimes I stop by for dinner and get to hear about ‘Agent Lombard beat a slug-fucker with brains and a saltwater fish tank’, others I get a text in the middle of the night thanking me for having enough sense to not let a werewolf wound go untreated.” And there it was, Martin was on the edge of pouting. Fortunately- or unfortunately, if you were Diana and loved watching your brother wallow in his own dangerous stupid- Gwen was merciful.

“So, what have we got to go on?” Rook seemed as happy to get to work as Martin and smiled at all of them, immediately going and laying the map he held out on the fountain wall.

“Aaron and John were good enough to provide us a map showing the general area of each disappearance,” he said, pointing out a series of red spots on the map. They were all clustered over a large area with no discernible pattern. “If we make our way onto the Aspen Trail, then cut onto the Blackcap Trail, we should be able to do a partial circuit of the area.” Stepping back, Martin stretched and grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They’d been walking an hour and Diana was in hell.

“I wouldn’t call Attack of the Killer Donuts the best B-horror of our time, I mean have you seen Ice Spiders?”

“Really, Benji? If you’re going with Syfy-style you could at least go for Attack of the Killer Lampreys or something.”

“Ooo, that one was awesome! I’ve watched it four times!”

“Java big fan of Lake Placid sequels.”

“Hold up- Two? Or three and four?”

“Three and four.”

“Good man.”

It was a nightmare.

“I was really hoping Martin would leave this discussion behind.” Gwen patted Diana on the shoulder, joining her in sighing.

“Men, can’t live with them and if you kill them you have to deal with their mothers.” Diana almost joked about having a shot then, then remembered that much like she was, despite all attempts, clearly their father’s favorite, Martin and their mother had bonded like no other, and it was entirely likely that if she killed him Mom would disown her and start again with new children.

She sighed once more.

“So,” she said, pulling her eyes off the boys walking ahead of them to look at Gwen, “the pack brought you guys in?” Gwen nodded.

“Kevin’s Top Ossy on the planet right now, and the missing Ossy is his brother-in-law’s cousin, so when the pack couldn’t figure out what was happening he’s where they turned. The rest of us didn’t want him running into who knows what kind of trouble without back-up.” She could understand that. Apparently, nobody knew what they were dealing with, other than that it probably wasn’t a natural phenomenon (score- one Martin, yay). There weren’t any sinkholes found or anything, and Diana couldn’t imagine large predators had much space to come in with a whole pack of them already living there. But then, why was it…

“Does it seem eerily quiet to you?” Diana asked after a moment. There was still the boys’ conversation, but under it was, nothing.

“Oh thank god, it’s not just me. Shouldn’t there be birds or bugs or something?”

“Yeah…”

Up ahead, Zed sudden froze and began to growl.

Nothing appeared off about the area they were heading into, but still the group stopped where they were and carefully took stock of what was ahead. It was a small valley, not particularly deep but still notable. The path went in, followed the edge of the river, heavily laden with plant-life, then went back up the cliffside a few acres along. At first look, purely innocuous, but as they closed in on each other protectively experience told them they weren’t so lucky.

“Prime ambush territory,” Ben said, and the others all nodded.

“I say we risk it,” Martin added, and Diana sighed.

“Of course you do.”

“What are we going to learn if we don’t go in? Nothing, so we go.”

“It makes sense.”

“If we die, the Center’s paying for the funerals.”

“Deal.”

Which was about the point where a massive head came out of the undergrowth, straight at them, at speed.

“Shit!” Nearly as one mind they scattered, Gwen instinctively hurling a mass of pink energy at the creature as they dodged its fangs. The damn things were easily the length of Diana’s arm! The girls, Kevin, and Rook scrambled away from the creature as more of it emerged, Kevin’s hand tight on Zed’s collar.

It was a massive serpent, with a head easily as wide as Java. The scales along it’s body were a deep, deep black with dark blue banding and shone with a rainbow of iridescence, its head crested with a rack of long, tined antlers. High on the head, between its eyes- one a deep brown and the other a milky beige- sat a diamond crystal that blazed in the mid-afternoon sun. It was beautiful, so beautiful. Surely this would be the best way to die, here to something lovely, rather than later to some slime creature, or ghost, or whatever horrible thing she would be made to face next. A miracle, the fact she’d survived this long, how much longer could luck last before something else ate her, possessed her, best for them not to have the chance-

A flash of pain as she hit concrete and Diana was knocked from her daze, looking up to see Rook laid overtop of her on the trail as the serpent surged forward above them. It turned on itself, clearly drawing back for another attempt and giving Kevin and Gwen just enough of an opening to rush back in and haul them to their feet. The two bolted back up the path, Zed just ahead of them and Kevin behind, as Gwen blasted the beast again, sending it reeling long enough for Martin and Java to come running back out from where they’d tumbled into the valley, Ben over the caveman’s shoulder.

“There’s two of them,” Martin yelled as they ran passed, grabbing Gwen by the arm and shoving her ahead of them. “Two!”

True to word another of the beasts slithered behind them, whole and hearty and quickly joining with the first in chasing them down. All they could do was keep running, running despite the realization these things were fast, and large enough that they all knew any distance they might gain would be lost if they tried to head into the trees. These things could probably eat the trees. Relief only came when Ben finally came back to himself, vanishing in a flash of green light that had Java dropping him in the path, only to appear again as a plantperson.

“Time to bring the heat,” he said, shooting seeds from his hands into the earth along the path. Almost instantly they sprouted, bursting forth as thick vines that joined together to form a wall blocking the way. He then lit the vines on fire, just in case. “Hah! Let’s see ya get through that!”

“Don’t tempt the dragons!” Swampfire squeaked as Kevin got him by the back of the neck, having doubled back once he realized what was happening, and dragged him along with the others.

They may or may not have been being chased anymore, but they sure as fuck weren’t stopping.

“I can’t believe we almost got eaten by an Uktena!”

“Two Uktena.”

“Even better!”

For the most part they were all collapsed at one of the outlook spots on the trail. Martin, though, was pacing back and forth with a grin because who else did Diana know who would think nearly dying via giant snake monster was cool?

“Okay, Martin,” Gwen said, “glad you’re happy, but if you could fill the rest of us in.” He stopped and turned his grin on the group.

“Uktena are horned serpents from Cherokee myth, formed out of people unhappy with their lives,” he said. “The crystal on the head? It’s called an Ulun'suti- I probably butchered that… Anyway, it’s mildly hypnotic and eventually creatures who stare into it just give themselves up to be eaten!” A look of mild confusion came over his face. “They don’t normally hunt humans though, that’s weird…” Off the side, where he was lying in the grass, Kevin shook his head.

“A dragon made out of people, with a blind left eye, that’s just suddenly showed up?” He lifted his head enough to look at the others. “That was Dalen.” His head thudded back down. “Also explains why she’s hunting humans, we aren’t picky eaters.”

“Alright,” Diana said, “that explains the one then. What about the other?” Everybody shrugged.

“Who knows,” Martin said, “could be another one of the missing people, could be one that just showed up around now. Maybe having the other one here attracted it.”

“Knowing our luck it heard we were coming and decided to join in.” Ben heaved a sigh. “Why is it always things with scales? We have not met anyone decent with scales!”

Diana was happy to see everyone except Ben sit up and give him the stink eye. Kevin doubly so.

“Excepting present company.” She continued to glare, tail twitching in aggravation. Was it cool to smack one of somebody else’s boys?

“Uh-huh, yeah..”

“And all of my siblings? Just not a thing now?” Kevin asked with a sneer, before falling back to the ground. Zed whined and curled up against his side. “Just, will somebody kill him and save me the trouble?”

“No killing my cousin,” Gwen said, flopping back down herself.

“And you all see why we broke up.” While Kevin huffed, Ben turned a pleading gaze on Martin, in clear hopes of back-up. Instead Martin gave him a sharp look and went to collapse beside his sister and Gwen.

“Not cool, man.”

They decided, in the end, to turn in for the night and pick the mission back up in the morning. The reasoning being that it was getting late and since so far all known attacks and attempted attacks had happened during the day odds were good the Uktena were at least primarily diurnal. An unoccupied cabin was found along the trail, outside of what Martin and Kevin had deemed the ‘Dinner Zone’ as well as the pack territories. That second bit was important because once everyone was inside Kevin had gone out and rubbed his scent all over the trees surrounding the building, just in case that helped.

It was an Ossy thing. They rolled with it.

Dinner options were slim. The Center had provided trail food- mixes, jerky, dried fruit- and a few tins of canned meat and fish for each agent. The Tennyson team turned out to be at least a little more prepared, mostly because Kevin had managed to fit a corned beef into his pack (“We just don’t ask anymore, last time it ended with a two-hour explanation of space-time and dimensional rigging that went over everybody’s head”) and Rook had brought a collapsible pot and portable range (“You would think the park would stock these, but apparently no”). Most of the corned beef went to Kevin and Zed, something the Tennysons and Rook didn’t begrudge them and Martin, Diana, and Java- keeping in mind the pamphlets- decided to follow their lead on. They weren’t certain what happened if an Osmosian got hungry, but they didn’t want to find out.

Eventually, the group split into two, with Java, Rook, and Kevin taking over the kitchen while the others hung out the whole ten feet away in the living room. If nothing else the cooks seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting and exchanging tips and tricks and recipes. And at some point Kevin’d put his hair up, the end result of which was Martin watching them over the back of one of the couches, eyes narrowed, mouth open, and head tilted to one side as Ben patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

“I swear,” Diana said quietly as she watched this, leaning in close to Gwen, “I can feel his heterosexuality combusting from here.” Gwen nodded.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.”

“You know, I never thought I’d enjoy canned sardines.”

“It is amazing what you can make work by cannibalizing the right packs.”

“And working with a guy who’s used to making a single ingredient into a million distinct recipes.”

“You are welcome.”

“Ooo, spellbook!” It was a testament to the sort’ve thing she was used to that Gwen didn’t jump when Martin unceremoniously dumped himself into the seat beside her. She’d figured getting some studying done couldn’t hurt, not when they were trying to deal with a pair of giant, magical snakes, but as soon as she’d pulled out the book and cracked it open there he’d been.

“Into magic?” she asked, looking at him critically, eyes narrowed. Martin puffed up proudly.

“Runs in the family,” he said, “I can’t even remember when my Gran and aunts started teaching me spellwork.” Gwen snorted a quick laugh.

“Lucky. I had to teach myself. It’s only in the last few years I’ve gotten any actual teaching, or access to new books.” She raised the one in her lap slightly for emphasis and watched Martin light right up.

“Wait here! Java!” Leaping to his feet he crossed the space between himself and the caveman, immediately digging into the front of his shirt and pulling out a large book before practically diving back for the couch. “Check this out.”

The book wasn’t as grand as the one Gwen held, and it was certainly in worse shape. There was water damage, scorch marks, and places where dirt had clearly been ground into the parchment. As Martin flipped through it Gwen was fairly certain she saw evidence that it had been rebound at least once. But it was stuffed to the brim with spells and notes in what she had to assume was his own handwriting. Half of the spells weren’t even in the same languages, she counted at least six. Three of which she didn’t recognize.

“Okay,” she said after about the third spell in what she would later learn was Etruscan, leaning over to dig through her pack for some pens and paper, “you can copy from mine if I can copy from yours. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Okay,” Rook said the next morning while they all gathered over a breakfast of cereal bars, jerky, and dried apples, plus plenty of instant coffee for Martin and Gwen (“It’s your own fault for staying up till four am”), “let us review- what do we know?”

“That we’re dealing with two Uktena,” Diana said, “one of whom used to be an Osmosian.”

“Because of course Ossys aren’t scary enough,” Ben added and got swatted for it because she and Kevin were both too tired for him to start.

“Hunting here,” Java said, pointing at the map laid on the table between them, “in valleys.”

“They’re ambush predators,” Martin said around a bite of cheerio bar. “Plus, their breath is poisonous.”

“Oh joy.” Sarcasm was just dripping from Kevin’s voice. “Hypnotic and poisonous.” He sighed, snatching up a handful of jerky and chewing it with open aggravation. “Roy can never hear about that, for his own sake.” Gwen patted his shoulder and passed an apple ring to Zed before leaning forward to inspect the map.

“So, what do we do then? Are we catching them or-?”

“The Center can move them somewhere they won’t be a threat to any people,” Diana said. “They’ve done it before with larger creatures. We just have to subdue them first so they can come in and get them.”

“It’s safer than trying to kill them anyway,” Martin added. “They’ve only got one vulnerable spot, on the seventh stripe, and it’s tough to hit without being in eating range.”

“Okay,” Ben said, “so all we have to do is catch them.”

“Easier said than done,” Diana replied, leaning back against the couch. “How do we catch them?”

“If you guys can get them to stay still,” Gwen said, “Martin and I both have sleep spells we can cast on them. I don’t know for sure if they’d work on these things, but it’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t know, Gwen,” Martin said, rubbing the back of his head. “Supposedly seeing these things asleep causes your family to die.”

“At this point,” Kevin tossed in, “I would be impressed if something managed to kill the family I’ve still got.” The table went quiet, everyone rolling the risk around in their heads, blindly watching Zed sneak food.

“Alright,” Rook eventually said, “how about this- Ben, do you think you could use Diamondhead or Swampfire to subdue them?” Ben hummed, leaning back in his seat as he considered the idea.

“Diamondhead, Swampfire, Wildvine, all could lock them in place from a distance. Maybe Gravattack? And if need be I could always possess them one at a time with Ghostfreak…”

“How about we avoid possession?” Diana asked, shivering. She’d seen and experienced enough possessions in her life, thank you, she didn’t want to play witness to any more than she had to. Java laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. The Tennyson team gave her a questioning look, but Kevin soon nodded, and the rest followed suit.

“Yeah, that’s a trauma I think we can all forgo reliving if we have the chance.”

“So,” Rook continued, “we draw them out into the open and Ben subdues them. If that does not work, then Martin and Gwen put them to sleep. Agreed?” Everyone looked at each other, then slowly began to shrug.

“It’s the best plan we’ve got so far,” Ben said. “So, Martin, you’re our expert, where should we look for these things?”

“Well…” Martin leaned forward, looking over the map. “They’re ambush predators, so they should probably hang out in places where they can jump out at people… Caves, valleys, deep water, dense foliage, large rocks…” Again, the table went silent as everyone considered the information.

“So,” Kevin finally said, “the entire Dinner Zone, basically?”

“I wish you guys wouldn’t call it that…”

“Pretty much,” Martin answered. He hummed contemplatively, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered the map and their options. “They are snakes though, maybe we can catch them sunning. Then they’d already be out in the open.”

“Good idea,” Java said, and the others nodded.

“We’d still have to find out where they sun,” Rook noted, but Kevin was already on his feet.

“Leave that to me,” he said, pulling out his phone and stepping off to the side, “the local pack should know every decent sunning spot in the park.”

“Okay then. Everyone,” Ben said with a grin, also rising to his feet, “get your shit together, we’ve got some snakes to catch.”

The cabin became a buzz of activity, as everyone scrambled to get their things back in order and clean up after themselves. Trash was shoveled into bins, counters were given a final wipe down, books and writing supplies were carefully tucked away into packs. Dinner and breakfast had cleared enough room for extra things to be stowed inside them, such as Martin’s spellbook and some of the canteens, which the group took the time to refill at the sink. It was the height of summer, even in a temperate region you didn’t want to run out of water if you didn’t have to. At some point Kevin returned to the couch, snatching a pencil from Martin so he could mark various areas on the map, chattering away with who they had to assume was Aaron in languages nobody understood. Occasionally the Omnitrix would pick up something in Imperial Osmosian, but other than that…

“We have sunning spots!” he finally called out, as everyone was finishing up packing, snatching up the map triumphantly and rocketing to his feet. “The hunt is on!”

The journey wasn’t exactly arduous, but it sure wasn’t easy. For one thing they had to move at a steady clip, as fast as they possibly could. Nobody knew how long it took for reptiles that size to get up to temperature, but they didn’t want to miss them and have to search the entire area. Even still, that wouldn’t have been so much to ask if there hadn’t been five different sunning spots recommended in and around the Dinner Zone, each of which was only accessible by narrow paths through the trees, half of which were overgrown with foliage. These were places the pack occasionally used, but which were far enough out of the way so as to not see regular visitors. Perfect places for monster serpents to catch the morning sun.

“I have a question,” Ben asked as they made their way down from a tall outcropping. It had been the third stop, to no avail, and while all of them were athletic and well hydrated they also were soaked with sweat. “How does someone even become a snake monster?” All eyes turned to Martin who was, as usual, glad to share his obscure knowledge.

“Well, according to Cherokee myth a guy turned himself into one while spending the night alone in an asi with a pair of deer antlers, but I’ve never seen anything detailing exactly how that worked. She probably didn’t need the antlers though, having her own.”

“Honestly I’d be pissed to have lost a pair,” Kevin said, grasping onto trees to slow his descent down a particularly steep area. “A lot of packs are really tied closely to neighboring communities, especially ones native to the particular region. Tribal land’s close enough, if there’s a trick to the transformation Dalen probably learned it from a Cherokee parent or cousin.”

“Or grandparent.”

“Same diff.” The group went quiet again, mostly to focus on not slipping and falling, something only Diana was immune to. Turned out the tail was useful for balance and for catching herself on branches and the blackcap bushes that had clearly given the trail its name, the scales even protecting her from the thorns. She kept throwing Ben smug looks over it, and Rook, Kevin, and Martin kept giving her thumbs up when the hero wasn’t looking. None of them had forgotten or forgiven his ‘no decent people with scales’ comment yet.

It wasn’t until they found the path again that they returned to talking.

“So, she probably did it to herself,” Gwen said. “That’s sad, and worrying.”

“In her defense,” Rook replied, “I am sure she did not expect to start eating passersby. Right?” Eyes went to Kevin, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me, I met Dalen once and we didn’t exactly get close. If she was anything like Roy probably not?”

“Still not know about other snake,” Java pointed out. He was right too, they had no clue what was going on with that one. The best case scenario was that it was another of the missing people, bringing the Presumed Dead count down to seven, but they just couldn’t know. For all the information they had it could be a male attracted by Dalen’s presence, or a newcomer that prompted her own transformation. The worst possibility was that somebody had made them against their wills, but since so far Martin had said nothing about that being an option everyone was setting it aside. He and Gwen were the magic users around, after all, and surely they would’ve let the others know if that was something that might have happened.

“Hopefully,” Diana said, “the Center can figure out who they are.” If they could give some sort’ve closure to the families, tell even one mother that their child was alive even if they’d never come home, then that would make the effort of learning, of catching them alive, worth it. Idly she wondered if the pack had already been told of Dalen’s fate.

“Sure they can.” Martin’s grin was bright, though behind it was dead seriousness. He may have been a goofball, but his job was important and he treated it as such when the chips came down. “With all the stuff we’ve got access to? There’s no way they can’t.” Up ahead on the path, Rook nodded.

“Or at least no reason we cannot find somebody who can.”

Four turned out to be their lucky number. Both the Uktena were there, their bulk coating the surface of a massive stone jutting out over one of the area’s many streams. Their scales shone in the sunlight, dark and rainbowed and beautiful, while their Ulun'suti glinted and seemed to almost glow in the light. Under better circumstances it would have been a wonderful sight, two great dragons warming themselves. A sight for life long memories. One for photos.

Thankfully they didn’t seem to hear the click of a phone.

“Kevin!” Half the group hissed as one, careful to keep their voices down. They were gathered in the shrubbery near the bottom of the stone, just far enough away to avoid being immediately noticed.

“What?” he whispered, replacing the phone in his pack, “Her mom will want this.” With a round of sighs the others shook their heads, turning their attention back to the Uktena pair.

“Is this normal?”

“Maybe? Who knows, I’ve only read about these things and one of them is an Ossy.”

“Okay, do we all remember the plan?” Rook looked around at the group as best he could- Java had been forced to hide further back due to his size, and Kevin would’ve been too if he and the girls hadn’t been first to the spot, which meant he had to somehow check around that bulk on top of all the foliage everywhere- and was glad to see nodding and thumbs up all around. “Alright. Spread out, make sure they cannot slip away if they get loose. And be careful.”

They all were as quiet as they could be as they acted, avoiding loose stones and twigs, taking their time now that they could confirm that the snakes weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Gwen and Ben headed one direction, while Martin, Diana, and Rook headed in the other. Kevin and Java stayed more central, a solid foundation behind the targets. As soon as everyone appeared to be in position, Ben dialed the Omnitrix and slammed down his selection, erupting again in a blaze of bright green light that faded away to reveal Wildvine already digging his roots into the stony shores.

At the sudden flash the Uktena both leapt into action, rearing straight up as their heads swung to see the source. A hiss left the one that was Dalen, body tensing as her companion tilted their head. The action caused the gem between their eyes to glint and gleam, and the group all were careful to avoid looking at it, keeping their eyes on the antlers, the jaws, anywhere else on them. Except for Wildvine, who simply laughed at the attempt as the reflection off the crystal played across his face.

“Got you there,” he said with a wide grin, “Wildvine can’t be hypnotized!”

The pair seemed to be surprised by the new development, though with snake faces who could tell. Still, they didn’t surge forward in vicious strikes like before, but instead stayed in place, eyeing the young hero with caution. Wildvine took the opening. He reached over his shoulders, tearing seed pods from his back and hurling them towards the snakes. As soon as the first few hit the serpents took action, moving to put distance between themselves and this strange foe they couldn’t bring to heel, but it was too late. The moment they began to move the seedpods sprouted, issuing forth thick, knobby green vines that wove themselves around Uktena and rock both.

“See? Easy!” The rest of the group crept out of hiding carefully, eyes locked on the captured serpents.

“I’d feel a lot better if that hold was tighter…” The grip didn’t look secure. Dalen was held mostly to the stone as she struggled, but the other one, not so much. It strained upward, and though it didn’t get far one could imagine the sound of vines creaking and straining against its strength.

When they finally failed it was one after the other down the creature’s back, like watching a zipper come undone.

“Shit!” Everyone scrambled back again as the vines on the Uktena fell away and it surprised them all by turning not towards its attackers but towards Dalen. In two massive bites it tore through the vines holding her head and neck, leaving her free to repeat its earlier vine bursting maneuver. That job done, it finally tuned back to Wildvine, lunging forward in an attack he was just barely able to dodge, and twisting back on itself to trap the Tennysons in the coil of its body. Dalen, meanwhile, surged in the opposite direction, throwing herself among the rest of the team with a loud hiss and a brandishing of fangs and antlers. Everyone who could scattered, trying to avoid being victim to either the weapons or bulk of the beast.

She lashed out with tail and fang, swung her antlers in wide arcs when too close to lunge, thrashing like she wanted to get at all of them at once. Probably she did. It was impossible to get a bead on her, not when she was moving about so wildly, not when she was staying in such close proximity to them, not when they were trying so hard not to be caught in the shine of the Ulun'suti in the sun. Java caught Martin as a swinging tail launched him into the air. Rook’s call to fall back was almost lost in the sound of heavy scales on stone and the splashing of all these creatures in the water.

“A little help here?!”

“We’ve kinda got our own problems!” Zed at least was able to come to the Tennyson’s aid, charging forward to drive her teeth into the tail of the other Uktena while the others were too caught up in not being eaten by Dalen, and keeping a tight grip even as it tried to fling her off and into the woods. If nothing else, it gave the cousins an opening- for Gwen to distract it with blasts to the face and belly and for Ben to dial up an option that would hopefully have an easier time subduing the creature. In another flash the roots and greenery of Wildvine disappeared and were replaced with the shining form of Diamondhead.

“If somebody could get them on the ground, this time it should work!”

“It better!” Martin dodged another swing of Dalen’s antlers as he and Rook bolted for the other serpent’s tail, leaping up to try to drag it down with sheer weight. Diana and Kevin ran to try to do the same with the head, the hybrid reaching out to get a thick coating of the stone as they cut under it on their way to where Gwen was using her magic to drag the thing into their range. Java, meanwhile, was taking on the dangerous job of trying to keep Dalen from going after the rest of them.

It wasn’t working.

As soon as she realized her companion was being dogpiled she surged back over the top of the stone, mouth gaping wide to snap up somebody, anybody, in front of her. Java clung to her middle, digging in his heels as best he could, Gwen throwing up a quick shield to prevent her from managing the foot of distance more she needed to reach the rest of the team. Quickly she was in on the battle between caveman and serpent, Java doing his best to slowly drag Dalen backwards away from the group while Gwen used her magic to keep her from doubling back and tearing into Java like a ripe fruit. It was a vicious game of tug-of-war, where a slip by either of the heroes could easily get all of them killed.

On the other side of things, Operation Dogpile was working. Kevin and Diana had distracted the snake long enough for Martin, Rook, and Zed to get his tail to the ground, and together their own weight was enough to keep its head on the ground as well. Diamondhead, through this, solidified each little victory with a barrage of crystal, a preliminary cage as the massive shards briefly cut off movement away from him. This wasn’t a solid solution though. The crystals were stronger than vines, yes, but here and now was not the place to take half-measures. Once the snake was under some degree of control he began phase two, calling up huge, thick sheets of crystal from the ground. Five locking the head in place, with one before the snout, while hordes of others ran down the serpent’s length, with gaps between them only large enough for those clinging to it to slip free.

At which point Dalen went ‘fuck this’. Where before she had been struggling to pull herself free of Gwen’s magic long enough to tear Java off her midsection, now she instead suddenly surged forward towards the girl, shocking her into breaking her hold and Java into loosening his grip. She almost soared over Diamondhead’s head, curling herself around her companion’s and trying to bite through the crystal holding them. Inside the crystal cage, Kevin and Diana were beginning to lose the breath they’d been holding in an attempt to not be poisoned and Diana, much like Dalen, immediately decided to take action.

That action was punching the Uktena in her dead eye.

With a violent hiss the beast pulled back, giving her head a brief shake and what could only be a glare to those assembled before disappearing into the forest as suddenly as she had first appeared the day before.

They were alone again. Sort’ve.

“Everyone in one piece?” Ben asked in unison with Java’s “Martin and Diana alright?”

“Fine over here,” Martin said as he, Rook, and the dog all slid free of the cage. “Sis?”

“We’re okay,” Diana responded.

“Nice jab.” Kevin gave her a grin as she helped him squeeze free of the crystal and she gladly returned it.

“Thanks, my mom taught me.”

“Awesome.”

“So,” Gwen said, heaving a sigh as everyone gathered on and around the rock to check their injuries- only scrapes and bruises, thank god, though Kevin and Diana worried everyone with some coughing they insisted was nothing major- and look out over their catch, “what do we do now?”

“We call the Center,” Diana said, she, Martin, and Java lumping together protectively as the Tennyson team did the same, “then we go find the other one.” As one the group looked at the Uktena they’d already caught. It wasn’t struggling anymore, having seemingly accepted that there was no escape from it’s current predicament, and instead was staring them down with it’s dark, dark eyes. Ben took a deep breath as, in a flash of green, he turned back into himself, and fixed the team with a self-assured smile.

“We’ve totally got this.”

The team split up. Not for long, just so somebody was there to wait for the Center’s monster transport squad to show up while the others made sure they had a trail they could follow. In theory it wasn’t difficult, she was a sixty-foot snake for fuck’s sake, but she was a sixty-foot snake that had been an Osmosian, which was the universe’s way of challenging a hunter.

“How did she make the trees here hold her?”

“I don’t know. I saw Kay do that sort’ve thing once, but he’s never taught me.” Humming under his breath, Java stepped away from Kevin and Rook and began scaling one of the trees that appeared to have greatly suffered under the weight of what they were assuming was Dalen. At least, the damage appeared fresh enough for that. He was careful with his steps, even as the other boys gathered at the base of the trunk to break his fall should he do so, and stayed mindful of the damage already done. When he reached as far as he felt he safely could, the caveman cast his gaze at the trees around them.

“Trail go,” he said slowly, pointing, “that way.”

“Alright.” Rook nodded, gesturing Kevin forward. They had Zed with them, and hopefully soon they would find a spot where Dalen had returned to the ground and the Baskurr could pick her scent back up. “Are you staying in the trees, or rejoining us down here?” Java took a moment to think about it, looking over the path through the trees. It seemed solid enough. Hopefully.

“Java stay in trees, keep others on track.” Another nod from the alien and a smile.

“Lead the way then.”

Everyone was back on the ground when the others found them again, having tracked them with Gwen’s magic, as planned, and made a beeline rather than following the Uktena’s path. Zed was back on the scent and tense at Kevin’s side as they all reconnected.

“The other one taken care of?” he asked, trying to keep the dog calm with long strokes down her neck. Gwen nodded.

“They’re going to find a space for them in the jungle,” she said, “and for Dalen once we get her.”

“Good.”

“Okay everybody,” Martin said, smiling and stretching, “get ready for Round Two.”

“Electric Boogaloo.”

“Rook, please don’t.”

The moment Zed started growling was déjà vu all over again. It wasn’t the same little valley, not the same river, and there was no concrete path leading ominously down into the shade, but it certainly felt the same. There were no trees down there, only dense underbrush. Thick masses of green bushes, grasses, vines, waist high and more, coated the bank on both sides. The river itself was deep, dark, and fast moving. No birds or insects sang.

In the center of the water, one could just make out the tips of antlers sticking out into the open air.

“So, Diamondhead again?” Ben asked, careful to keep his voice down. They were all fairly certain they were out of striking range, but that didn’t mean they wanted for her to notice them before she absolutely had to. Gwen shook her head.

“I’m not sure that would work,” she said. “I mean, they’ve already proved they’re smarter than your average snakes.”

“Or at least more social,” Martin added.

“It might be easier this time,” Rook said, “with only one for us to dogpile on.”

“And then we can worry about getting poisoned and maybe drowning,” Diana pointed out. “The last plan worked, but if we can avoid anyone having to lie over this thing’s nose I think we should go for it.”

“I’m with Diana,” Kevin chimed in, “holding the head down by hand is too risky.” Martin was the first to nod, followed by the rest.

“You’ve got a point,” he said, then held up the U-Watch. “U-Watch has a grappling hook, I might be able to hold her in place so Gwen can put her to sleep.”

“My proto-tool also has one,” Rook added, “we can each go for an antler.”

“Okay,” Ben said, “but can you two hold her on your own?”

“Java help,” the caveman said, and Kevin piped up along with him.

“With the four of us, it’d be, well not easy but not impossible. Then you and Diana can hold the back end while Gwen works her magic.” Nobody looked entirely comfortable with the idea, but then that wasn’t something that had ever stopped any of them from doing their jobs before. Ben gave a short, empty laugh.

“Probably be easier to just kill her.” Kevin huffed.

“As long you’re the one to tell her mother.” The team went quiet for a beat, two beats.

“Let’s go with the grappling hook plan.”

“Good idea.”

Zed was sent down into the valley first, as bait, despite Kevin’s vehement protests. The thinking here was that 1) she was small and fast and more likely to outspeed Dalen than any of the rest of them were, and 2) out of them she had the most experience with this sort’ve thing thanks to her old owner. They hoped she would lure the serpent out of the river and into the open, so they could have an easier time getting hold of her without running such a high risk of getting pulled under and drowned.

The plan worked. Dalen surged out of the river as soon as Zed was in range, just barely missing the Baskurr on the first strike (and the clenching of Kevin’s jaw was nearly audible at that). In an instant Zed was twisting on her heels and charging back up the snake-made trail towards Gwen with what felt in the moment an endless mass of magical serpent close behind. As soon as the alien dog had reached Gwen’s side Phase Two of Operation: Rescue Dalen From Herself went into action. In a flash of light Ben was replaced with Four Arms and he leapt down from where he and Diana had lain in wait at the top of the near cliff acting as the valley wall, landing heavily by the tail of the beast and grabbing hold. Dalen, of course, couldn’t be having with that and began to turn on herself to strike at him, only for the rest of the boys to jump into action.

From their positions hidden in the brush on either side of the trail Martin and Rook sprang forward, each taking quick aim and launching their grappling hooks at the nearest antlers to themselves. The response was vicious, with Dalen immediately trying to rear back and take them off their feet, only to be stopped by Kevin and Java’s intervention, grabbing hold of the other boys and the lines tethering her and digging in their considerably heftier and stronger heels. Between the pairs- Martin and Kevin on her right, Rook and Java on her left- she soon found herself struggling to move her head more than a half-foot in any direction, each attempt causing the opposing pair to yank back as hard as they could to keep her in place.

That was Diana’s cue. It had been decided, just before the plan went into action, that using Four Arms meant Ben wouldn’t need the help keeping Dalen’s back end under control, which freed her to help in other ways. Such as making sure nobody was sunken into despair by the gem on the Uktena’s head. Leaping down from the top of the cliff, she landed squarely on the serpent’s back, using the extra balance her tail gave her to scramble up to her head. Once there, she wrapped legs and tail around Dalen’s throat as well as she could before hefting Gwen’s now empty pack across her face, quickly stretching to catch the second strap and hold it tight so the Ulun'suti was suitably covered. Now, truly, the creature was as subdued as the non-magic-users could safely get her, and it was up to the only magic-user let unoccupied to finish the job.

Backing up to get a better view, Gwen opened her spellbook to the appropriate page. Thankfully it was a simple one, requiring her to trace what to a novice would’ve seemed an intricate pattern in front of her, one that rested in the air in a series of glowing pink lines, and pushing it gently towards the serpent alongside a single word incantation.

“Quiescis.”

It was like the entire valley went still, silent seconds stretching into something that felt like hours. The others kept their tight holds as the Uktena just, sat there, unmoving. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she slowly began to lower her head to the ground. They let her, each carefully releasing the breathes they’d held in anticipation as they loosened their grips and she curled in around herself, settling into a quietly coiled form in the brush. Nobody said a word for several moments. Diana slid from her back. Everyone watched the creature as if she may leap back up at any moment.

She didn’t.

“Yes!” With a series of whoops the whole team burst into massive grins. Java lifted Rook straight off his feet in a hug. Gwen burst into laughter, doubly so as Zed jumped up to lick at her face. A flash of light turned Ben back to himself in time to share a high five with Diana. Kevin threw an arm around Martin’s shoulder in a tight side-hug, a gesture Martin returned for about five seconds before realizing ‘proximity’ and ‘Kevin’ and trying to carefully edge away (it didn’t work) (“Have your crises on your own time, Mystery”). The relief that flooded the small valley was palpable as they crowed their victory, relishing in their safety, the Uktenas’ safety, and the public’s safety.

Everything was going to be fine.

“Good job, everyone,” MOM said as behind her Center employees carefully moved Dalen into a transport container, “thanks to you both Uktena will be moved to a reserve in South America where they won’t be any further threat to the public.”

“I’m sure Dalen’s family will be happy to know she’ll be safe, at least,” Diana said. Ben then chimed in.

“And, the other one, you’re going to find out who they are, right?”

“We’re going to try,” MOM said. “We can’t promise we’ll succeed, but we’re going to try.” The Tennysons didn’t look convinced, but before they could say anything Kevin tossed in a quick

“It’s better than the Plumbers have ever managed.” -and there really wasn’t a way for them to counter that.

“You should all be very proud of yourselves.” And with that MOM simply turned away, a final compliment before she gave her attention back to the people doing the transporting, leaving the team to their own selves once again.

“About that,” Martin said, grinning and holding out a hand for a professional shake, “great spellwork, Gwen. A resting spell rather than a sleeping spell, nice last-minute switch.” She laughed and accepted the shake.

“Thanks,” she said. “Kevin’s family may be tough enough for him not to worry about, but I really didn’t want to risk mine. And since you were so happy to see it in the book last night it was pretty close to the front of my mind.” Somehow Martin’s grin got wider.

“Awesome!”

“You guys all were great,” Ben said, stepping forward with Rook right behind him in action and word.

“We would love working with you again.”

“Hopefully with something involving less hypnotic snakes,” Gwen made sure to add. With a grin of her own Diana laughed.

“Tell me about it,” she said, “if I never see another one in my life it’ll be too soon.”

“And what about Osmosians who aren’t snakes?” Kevin asked, “‘cause I still gotta go fill in Dalen’s family, if you all wanna join me?”

They kind of did.

Turned out to find the pack you had to go down a well-hidden back road into an area of the park you could hardly even see from the main roads. Eventually you came to a dirt parking lot, half full of pick-ups and SUVs, and from there followed a trail down into one of the park’s biggest valleys. There were plenty of impressed whistles as Kevin pointed out things like the likely primary sunning spots for the pack, or explained how this massive cliff was likely run through with miles of tunnels and dens given the size of it and the age of the pack who lived there. At the base of the cliff, at the end of the trail, they found a large clearing with buildings built against the stone and so, many, people.

It wasn’t the whole pack by any stretch of the imagination, but it was still more than most of the group had been expecting. They’d figured Aaron and John- who were there, so at least they had those familiar faces- maybe the poor woman’s parents, mates perhaps, but it seemed that whole family branch was waiting on them. Everyone, from fluff covered children to the elderly, and in a variety of combinations from ‘totally all Ossy’ to ‘what are humans doing here?’ Most of the latter turned out to be relatives from the tribe, joined with their family to catch the news about their missing cousin.

The mood hadn’t been good when they arrived, everyone already knowing the news wasn’t likely to be happy. In fact, it’d improved slightly when they’d explained that Dalen wasn’t dead or kidnapped, just, well, turned into a giant snake and gone to live in the wilds and eat people. This was, apparently, considered at least semi-reasonable by the Osmosian side of things, even if the humans involved were very concerned and needed to be reassured that she and the other Uktena were being moved somewhere they couldn’t cause any problems. At which point they’d then had to reassure everybody that the Center could be trusted to move an Ossy, giant horned serpent or no.

Half an hour they were, just on “no, really, it’s cool, she’s gonna be fine, and we’re keeping an eye on it just in case anyway”. Paranoia apparently didn’t just run through the blood, it galloped.

The group found themselves invited to an early dinner, which quickly proved itself to also be a sort’ve wake. It seemed everybody had a story to tell about Dalen as they clustered at the edge of the clearing, drinking homebrew and eating a meal featuring heavily salted meat. A good meal, to the point Java and Kevin were both clamoring for some of the recipes (Martin and Diana had resigned themselves to a lifetime with regular bean bread from the caveman’s first bite), though it would’ve been better if they hadn’t all been served enough bear to kill a man. Apparently, it was the highest calorie food there and they were ‘all still growing’.

By the end of things more of the pack had come out to join them and the stories stopped being just about Dalen. Everyone had some tale to tell, whether they were traditional stories, tales of strange happenings, or the group telling story after story of their adventures. About wars, about hauntings, about survival in desolate landscapes and mad science gone horribly wrong. And when the stories got too scary for the little ones there were Java and Rook, off to the side telling them Revonnahan fairy tales and reciting Shakespeare comedies.

Half of the kids refused to go to bed until Java promised to come back sometime with his sock puppets and tell the stories properly. Another quarter had to be reminded that no, they could not go to Canada or Revonnah immediately, their families would miss them.

Again, the group stayed the night in the park, this time set up in a guest house that pointedly did not open into any of the tunnels or dens. Nobody even considered being offended, not with the (apparently reasonable?) paranoia, and their hosts made sure they had plenty of good food and water to keep them into morning. Many thanks followed them when they left the next day- for their stories, for coming to help, for not turning immediately to killing one of their own like so many outsiders would’ve done. (“I’m still not sure about that, I mean an Uktena-” “Pack.” “…...why do I even try?”) It was a great service they’d done both pack and tribe and there was no way they could leave without their gratitude having been made blindingly clear.

Still, nearly all of them agreed that the whole smoked turkey each was given was maybe going a bit overboard.

According to Kevin it was another Ossy thing.

So, they rolled with it.

Everything always seemed boring after a mission. Didn’t matter if the team was settling back in at Torrington, or at home over the holidays, that juxtaposition between being off in amazing places experiencing new things and fighting monsters and magic and returning to normal life was always jarring. Like stepping off a boat only for your body to suddenly realize that the ground was stable. But if he had to come back to anywhere, he was always glad when it was home, where he could retreat into his own little haven of weirdness.

His room at the Lombard-Mystery house made the one at Torrington look like Diana’s.

Their parents had long given up on being able to see the floor and now just accepted that it would always be ankle deep in everything from dirty underwear to magical talismans to rogue Yu-Gi-Oh! cards. Though not food, not since the day their mom had actually brought out a flamethrower and brandished it in the direction of his door. Every square inch of wall space was covered in posters from various B-movies and sports events, and one massive mural of Hedorah he’d painted when he was twelve and was still way too proud of. The shelves strained under the weight of comic books, reference books, horror stories by everyone from Lovecraft to Ravenheart, and figurines of Digimon nobody would’ve ever expected to be able to find figurines for. Truly the only mostly-clear surfaces in the room were his bed, which was only half storage, and his desk, which held only a lamp flanked by figures of PlatinumNumemon and Raremon.

That gave him just enough space to continue his various studies into the weird and unusual and, most importantly, the magical, as he was doing at the moment. He’d come home, greeted his parents, regaled them with the story of he, Diana, and Java’s adventure (while Diana stood to the side, butting in every time he was explaining how awesome he was, the spoilsport), and ever since had been buried in his spellbook. There were so many new spells in it thanks to Gwen and he was absolutely enraptured. There was nothing quite the same as learning new magic and it would’ve taken a miracle to drag him away.

Or his phone going off, as the case may be.

Honestly even that didn’t really work. He didn’t even put down the turkey sandwich he’d made himself (they had too much turkey, somebody had to get rid of it), just pulled his phone out of his pocket blind, eyes still locked on the book.

“Hello, Martin Mystery speaking.”

“Hey Martin.” Finally, his attention was got. He didn’t look away from the book, but at least he stopped hunching over it.

“Tonio! Hey, how’s it going man?”

“Boring, for the most part. I might actually be starting to miss your antics.”

“Ouch. Terminal boring then.”

“Yep. If I don’t make it to the end of summer I’ve asked Mom to send you my comic collection.”

“Truly you’re the best friend.”

“I know.” There was a pause and Martin could’ve sworn he could hear the creak as Tonio leaned his chair back. He steeled himself, that always came with added teasing. “So, Diana said you guys went out of town.” Wait, since when did Diana have Tonio’s number? Since when did they talk? Exactly what sort’ve stories were they exchanging behind his back, and he knew if they were talking they were.

“Yeah,” Martin said, not letting on the sudden wariness he was feeling, “was pretty cool. Food was great, Java’s probably gonna be serving it in the cafeteria for half of next year.”

“Nice, nice,” he could almost see his friend nodding along in his mind’s eye, “she also said you met a cute guy.” No. Nope. Nada.

“I did not.” He was going to kill her.

“Really? She said you practically drooled.”

“That’s because she’s a liar. I know you don’t know this, but it’s a chronic thing with sisters.” She could forget college, she wasn’t even going to last to fall.

“It’s cool, man, there’s nothing wrong with you finding a guy you like. I was happy having a straight friend, but I can deal.” Scratch that, Martin was going to die, of embarrassment, right there at his desk. “Just don’t start flirting with me or anything.” He scoffed, huffed, and tore into his sandwich with feeling.

“Oh please, you couldn’t handle this much man.”

There was a loud thud on the other end of the line as Tonio fell to the ground laughing.

~*~

In the mid-afternoon a young Osmosian wanders the game trails that crisscross his pack’s territory. His dark and striped skin blends him in well with the mottled sunlight coming through the leaves and fragrant berries and flowers help to cover his scent from the prey he stalks. The goal is a deer, a plump young buck at best, to present as a gift to the object of his affections. A fresh kill, his own lone work, to show his attraction and dedication.

He can taste the remnants of one as easily as he can smell it. Somewhere in the area, he’s certain, is a spot where they sleep, and if he can find it and hide himself properly there then the kill will be easy.

What he doesn’t expect is to catch the scent of something else, something familiar yet unknown, running across the trail. Despite every warning his family has drilled into his head- about other packs, about poachers, about being seen without a disguise- curiosity wins out and pulls him off the trail and into the underbrush as surely as a hook through his nose. The tracks are old, the trail cold, but there’s still enough for a talented youth to follow. Enough to lead him onward, and onward, until nearly an hour has passed.

There’s a cave at the end of the trail. Not suitable for starting a new denning site, the roots of nearby trees are too thick and too close, there’s no room to expand. But still, inside he can taste life. Familiar life. Strange life. It’s with great caution he inches forward to see what there is to find.

The sight is one he knows well from checking on his relatives, on his sisters. A good dozen spheres of speckled grey rest in a depression in the dirt. Each is the size of a basketball, easily the largest he’s ever seen. There may even be more in the darkness, though he doubts it to look at them. Space there may be, but nothing else. Still, more or no, this is something for which he’ll need help, that the older members of the pack should know about, and so he turns and runs back down the faint trail with all the speed he can gather.

Several of the eggs are still glowing.

#fanfic #martin mystery #ben 10 #commissionwork #achi does commissionwork #like hell i'm tagging all the characters in this #i tried to be as respectful and accurate in my use of the uktena as i could so hopefully it came out right

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storiesbybrian · 7 years

Text

The Barber of Ludlow Street (June, 2000)

MK had been in the guitar business for 20 years. When he saw desperate marketers whine about the fickle nature of youthful passion, he scoffed. “A myth!” he said, squirreling away the commissions his boss let him keep until he made enough money to open up his own shop in the nearest epicenter of wildness that he knew, New York City’s Lower East Side. But his time worn formula for getting money out of crazy kids and indulgent parents bought him his independence about three years too late. To MK’s dismay the slow weeks piled up, held together by a thick mortar of bills, until he finally learned that kids today prefer Hip-Hop to Rock ‘n Roll. The Lit Fuse Guitar Shop, the culmination of 20 years of sacrifice, dedicated to serving the dreams of a new generation of Rock ‘n Rollers, opened to an indifferent public.

But MK wouldn’t give up. Conducting his own marketing survey, he noticed a lot of Asian kids strolling around the neighborhood, the yokes of their purchases cutting wide swaths in the sidewalk. MK remembered a piece he had seen on 60 Minutes about the Japanese Hip Hop craze and he snapped his fingers in revelation. He recalled wealthy Japanese kids tanning themselves and having their flat black hair professionally damaged into spongy manes of dreadlocks. So, with the help of RS, his one, slow-witted employee, MK changed his outdated Rock ‘n Roll shop into a one-stop, negrofying boutique that he hoped would keep the Fuse lit for as long as the wind blew black. He needed his customers to trust the with-itness of his taste though in his heart he knew it was only a matter of time before rock stars recaptured the imaginations of alienated children. But until the day when the wail of his guitars could swallow up the beats of his newly stocked dance records, he was gonna wring every dollar he could out of this rap fad. Behind the shop, he poured concrete, installed an old-fashioned barber’s chair, hung a mirror from a hook, draped a mylar canopy over the whole thing and invited kids to let the Rude Boy Salon tend to their fashionable grooming needs. And a haircut got you a 10% discount on a guitar.

Morning at the Sunshine Hotel is met with toothless grumbles of resentment. Morning carries a price tag of $10. Those without monthly benefactors shoot out the door south, south west, west, north west and north like crooked spokes from the Sunshine’s Bowery horizon looking for the means to reserve the pleasure of the Sunshine’s accommodations for yet another evening by the 7 o’clock curfew. But PJ hooked around the corner and went east, to Ludlow Street. He was 54 years old.

Everybody knew PJ- the police, the neighbors, the mailmen, the supers, the bartenders and owners, the children, the garbagemen. Everybody. He was an inevitability on Ludlow Street with his boisterous gibberish, big bang cloud of cologne and his broom. “I’m fine as wine! You a frien’ o’mine! Anytime you need a rhyme! I see you, cuz!”

His dire financial straits, his alcoholism, his age- none of it meant a damn thing to PJ. It took a strong being to crumble the way he did and keep his sweaty black resilience about him. He swept and mopped for his pocket money and told stories about busting the spine of the man he caught with his second wife or about his position of authority when he worked for the sanitation department. He had also been a cook, a gardener and a barber, as anyone within 20 feet of his rantings could attest.

When CN, the owner of a local bar called Barratoba, had t-shirts made with pictures of PJ on the front, his cult status in the neighborhood was lifetime guaranteed. MK, still a new kid by block standards, immediately cultivated a friendship with PJ, thinking it was his ticket to fitting in in the neighborhood.

One day in August, MK was outside smoking a cigarette and scanning the block for professional music enthusiasts. His sales for the month were still off and the haircut gimmick had no one abuzz. He had hired a barber from a local salon. But too many customers were demanding refunds, disappointed with the authenticity of their new dos. MK was left wondering whether he needed somebody who knew more about hairstyling or less. PJ was taking out the recycling from CN’s bar across the street.

MK called out to him, “PJ, my friend! How are you today?”

“Yo, cuz! Gimme dolla!”

MK reached into his pocket and PJ crossed the street towards him hand first.

“PJ, my main man!” MK said, slapping PJ five, “How would you like another job?”

PJ blinked at him seriously for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“No, really. How would you like to cut hair for me?”

“I was a barber for seven years in Nokalyna!”

“That’s what I hear. So how ‘bout it? I pay you ten bucks a head and anytime you want a bottle of anything, you just let me know. Deal?”

PJ shook MK’s hand and told him, “I be back after I get the flo’ mats at Quinine. They pay me extra to do them. Good music over there. You ever wanna go, you jus’ let me know. But ssshhh. Don’t tell anybody, a’ight? You a good guy. I get you in at Quinine, ‘k? Den I go get Barratoba’s and Guiseppe’s. They nice, too.”

“OK, PJ, I’ll see you later. Thank you.”

And MK had his barber. PJ took off to wherever he went when he had money and MK dropped his cigarette and went inside. Within weeks, PJ’s distinctive style became MK’s greatest source of revenue.

Any grandparents who came up through Manhattan’s Lower East Side, be they Jews from the first half of the last century or Spanish from the second, would be shocked to learn that one block of Ludlow Street now has seven fancy designer clothing shops and almost no drug trade. Girls who never would have set foot on Ludlow Street five years ago are now running the Community Board.

The newest proprietress of a clothing shop was called EW. EW had quit her investment banking job to open Glo, an astronomically upscale accessory shop. She had a German shepherd named Tamburlaine who did not get along with PJ.

A few days before Glo’s grand opening in late August, EW was supervising the finishing touches on her window display- a thick pyramid of handbags that were custom stitched from maple leaf shaped patches of leather and suede in front of a poster of an orange lagoon. Tamburlaine began to growl from inside the window and EW turned to see PJ lugging enormous bags of trash and plopping them down on the sidewalk in front of her new store.

“Excuse me sir, but you can’t put that garbage here,” she said politely to PJ.

“Huh? Naw, dey comin’ for it in two hour. I use to work for sanitation. Two hour,” PJ said EW.

“I don’t really care. You can’t put that garbage in front of my store.”

“Who you? Ask anybody on the block. They know me! They my friend! Ask cuz over at barbershop.”

PJ dropped his bags and went back inside, returning seconds later with another load of garbage.

“Sir. You’re not listening to me. That’s somebody else’s trash. Put it in front of their building.”

“No!” PJ yelled. His right knee began to pop involuntarily out of joint, an ancient baseball injury that flared up in times of stress. “This the same garbage from the same building I been puttin’ in the same place for 20 year!”

Sensing his mistress was in trouble, Tamburlaine bounded outside and began barking at PJ. PJ said, “You better get that muthafuckin’ clown away from me!”

“Or what?”

“Don’ you worry none. You just get that thing inside. I don’t like him!” PJ said, his trick knee hopping and forcing his hips to grind back and forth.

At this EW stepped quickly back and pulled out her cell phone and called the police. “Yes, I’m calling from Ludlow Street between Houston and Stanton,” she said. “Yes, a street man is leaving rubbish in front of my store and threatening my dog and myself- what? Right, garbage… Yes. Thank you.”

PJ clucked his mouth exasperatedly, knowing that when the cops learned that the alleged source of trouble was he, they’d laugh the whole thing off and explain PJ’s prestigious status on the block to newcomer EW. He wiped the sweat from his brow and then clutched his leg, trying to get it to stop twitching so violently.

Inside of five minutes, a squad car pulled up next to PJ’s plump row of garbage.

“Yo!” PJ greeted the pair of officers. “Tell this blonde woman leave me alone!”

One officer got out of the car while the other sat behind the wheel with a pen and summons pad spread across her lap. Tamburlaine continued to bark viciously.

“What’s up PJ?”

“A’right!”

“Hold on a second, PJ. Alright, miss, are you the one who filed the complaint?”

“Yes and thank you for coming so quickly,” said EW, raising her voice to be heard over her dog’s racket. “This person is harassing me and dumping this trash in front of my building.”

“Who, him?”

“Yes. Him.”

The dog continued to bark and flinch everytime PJ’s knee jumped.

“Alright sir,” said the cop with his hands on his hips. “Where is this trash from?”

“Man, you know where this trash from. ‘S from Guiseppe next do’ but I ain’t gon’ put it in front of no goddamn fire hydrant!”

“Well, what about over there?” asked the cop, pointing to space in front of a nightclub that wouldn’t be open until much later.

“Man, I don’t get paid to be draggin’ this shit all up and down the block!”

“There’s no need to yell at the police, you know.”

“Miss, we’ll handle this.”

“Well, look at how he’s acting. It’s like he’s gonna attack me.”

The cop noticed PJ’s jumpiness and stepped back and began fingering his nightstick. “Sir. Move the garbage and stop bothering the lady or we’ll have to arrest you.”

Drained from the officer’s face was any trace of recognition of PJ. His partner in the car stared down at her lap. With a vicious grunt, PJ snatched up the garbage bags and began dragging them the 10 feet to where the cop had designated. EW and the officers stood over him until he had finished hauling the entire pile of bags and continued to eye him until he left, which he did, cussing and twitching the whole way. PJ needed a drink.

Meanwhile CT and FL were sitting at Kennedy Airport, waiting to pick up their friend, BD. BD’s flight was arriving from Tokyo via San Francisco. The girls could not stop giggling. They hadn’t seen BD in several years but they kept in touch regularly and now they could finally show their dear friend all of the wonders and marvels of New York in person.

During the years that CT and FL had been building a life for themselves in New York City, BD had been building a reputation as a world class interior designer. His arrival in the States was greatly anticipated by the design community who found him so fascinating. Throughout their time apart, CT and FL fully cooperated in BD’s plan to cultivate an air of mystery which his arrival would solve with what all three friends hoped would be sensational panache.

When the plane taxied up to the gate, CT and FL clapped their hands excitedly. BD burst from the tunnel and all three old friends met in a fierce collision of joyful reunion. Each of them began speaking rapidly at once which led to uproarious laughter. The girls had so much to tell BD and to ask him, and he them. CT and FL each clasped one of BD’s hands and led him down to baggage claim where his limousine driver had already collected his gear. BD told them a funny story about customs in San Francisco as he handed his carry-on luggage to the driver as well.

In the back seat of the limo on the way into Manhattan, the girls asked BD what he would like to do first.

“Well,” BD said with much relish. “The first thing I want to do is visit Rude Boy for a haircut.” And he showed them a small article torn from a Japanese magazine. The article featured a picture of a famous Japanese record producer. The producer’s mangled head looked like a lopsided Rastafarian who had changed his mind about enlisting in the Marines at an extremely inopportune moment.

“Ahh,” said the girls collectively. “PJ.”

The article BD held pointed out that MK didn’t allow customers into his barbershop unless they brought at least two friends to hold them down in the old chair. Insurance purposes. It also offered Rude Boy customers a 10% discount on all guitars in the Lit Fuse. So, CT and FL instructed the limousine to drop them off in front of the Lit Fuse and then take their bags to their own shop, which was just one block away on Orchard Street.

The girls led BD into the Rock ‘n Roll/Hip Hop shop where MK greeted them warmly and asked if they’d like to see anything in particular. BD handed MK the cut-out, which flattered MK tremendously. His adaptation to the changing of the times had garnered international notoriety. A glow rushed about MK’s face and his mouth flapped back into the biggest smile that he’d worn in years.

MK shook hands with CT and FL while BD was looking through the store’s album collection. After a moment, BD returned to MK at the counter with a very high stack of records. CT and FL asked MK if they could leave these records on the counter and cash them out after BD’s superfly haircut. Mentally adding up the value of BD’s purchase, MK wagged his head like a puppy. Then he led the three of them back to the barbershop under the tinselly outdoor shine of the canopy.

BD sat down in the chair, flanked by CT and FL. MK gave the chair a good spin round, determined to delight BD to the pits of his soul and surpass every dream that BD had ever had about American Hip Hop culture. BD smiled and closed his eyes, ready to be transformed in appearance to what he already felt in his heart.

“Be right back…” sang MK and ran back into the store to summon PJ.

Befitting the grand entry of his star attraction, MK had taken a page from the NBA and engineered a garish bit of fanfare to let PJ, and the whole neighborhood, know that he had a customer. With the push of one button, a series of cherrytop police car lights began swirling in the Lit Fuse’s windows. Sirens and ice cream truck songs howled to a techno rhythm, punctuated by blasts from a lifeguard whistle. And then an announcer’s voice blared through the circus jungle beats:

“THAT’S RIGHT FOLKS! HE STILL AIN’T CROAKED! ANOTHER HEAD FROM A FARAWAY LAND LOOKS TO BE CURED BY THE THUNDERBIRD HAND OF THE MAN OF THE HOUR, MAN OF THE DAY! LET’S HEAR IT HO’S AND G’S FOR HIS TRAVESTY, P-J!”

The first few times that this explosion of bells and whistles rocked Ludlow Street, a few of PJ’s many friends and empathizers applauded as he burst from wherever to go careening through the Lit Fuse, hellbent on revising the possibilities of a hairdo. But after PJ’s work began to attract a larger number of customers, the frequent cranking of his theme song became a hardcore nuisance. MK received enough complaints that he began to sneak off the premises as soon as he turned on PJ’s noisy invitation. He would wander through the back way to sit and have tea down the street, leaving the store in RS’s incompetent care rather than field complaints from the neighbors.

So, as BD waited in the chair, the clanging and screeching BOOM BOOM BOOMed to summon PJ. PJ was down in Barratoba’s swilling gin, trying to recover from the shameful outrage of the policeman making him kowtow to that new blonde lady. PJ remembered when that cop was eight years old and shot an old man in the shoulder with his beebee gun. PJ tried to suck the liquor out of the tilted bottle faster than it could pour and it splashed out of his full mouth and ran down his chin in silver trickles. When the bottle was empty, PJ cast it aside and jerked his sleeve across his mouth. Then he charged out of the bar towards the noise that was calling him to sculpt someone’s head like an African banzai tree.

PJ whirled out into the bright light of the street, his dirty limbs gangling like giant pinwheels. Cars slammed on their breaks to avoid this stumbling dervish that seemed part liberated bull, part agitated rodent. Pretty young women shopping up and down the block reared back in horror to allow PJ to swarm his way past the pounding speakers and blaring lights and into the Lit Fuse.

BD was waiting for PJ in the back with an outstretched hand. Something about the scene seemed vaguely familiar to PJ and for a split second he wondered if he had ever fought overseas. He found his hand being tugged vigorously, worshipfully by the young Japanese man with the flat black hair. The mylar glinted above him and his muddy eyes took on a look of understanding.

BD mistook PJ’s newfound orientation of his whereabouts for an acknowledgement of their spiritual kinship. He smiled at the older man and lay back in the chair, waving off CT and FL. The two girls went back inside the shop. BD beamed ecstatically from his chair, overjoyed to be face to face with his kindred enigma, PJ. He handed his remaker, his redeemer another picture of the haircut he wanted. This picture was taken from the same magazine but the article was about police brutality in New York City, of which the young man in the picture was a victim.

PJ tenderly fingered the ragged edge of the picture and briefly forgot that he was too drunk to stand up. He held out his hand to BD. BD handed him two $100 bills. PJ’s eyes lit up and something about the image that sat under the money in his strong hand clicked. He nodded his head and got to work.

BD closed his eyes. PJ shaved tiny stripes into the young man’s eyebrows. Then PJ took the scissors. He raised them straight up and assumed the exact pose of Lady Liberty lifting her lamp beside the golden door. With his other hand, he pressed his large palm to BD’s temple and took a snippet of hair between two of his fingers. Then the scissors began jawing rapidly and swooped down at BD’s head. BD became secretly terrified in PJ’s shaky hands. But the scissors plunged along the shape of his sleek head accurately, shearing off a shaggy wing of hair. It was exhilarating and BD relaxed a little, surrendering to the moment. PJ reared the scissors back like a tailor’s needle. His trick knee had subsided and hardly jerked at all. On this pass, the hand on BD’s forehead rolled towards the incoming razor bomb. With a horrible squinching sound, PJ snipped off BD’s ear.

“Oh Lo’d!” shouted PJ as the blood spurted all the way up to the silver ceiling. BD began to cry and chant the comforting words of some of his favorite songs.

“Docta! We need a docta! He’p! He’p!” cried PJ, dancing around in BD’s blood. BD began convulsing in the chair. “Shee-it!”

CT and FL were inside the shop listening to BD’s new records on headphones. RS was watching the records spin round and round. But a few other customers peaked into the back to see what the ruckus was about. When they saw PJ’s ghoulish dance under the canopy and the young Japanese man writhing in the chair murmuring “you gon’ make me lose me mind-up in here, up in here” in a thick accent, they immediately searched about the place for cameras, certain as they were that a music video was being filmed out back. It was so easy to accept the absurdity of the scene as some vaguely symbolic play on entertainment and modern medicine. But something about the lack of cameras and the amount of blood blasting out of the side of BD’s head seemed too lavish for a rehearsal. What was going on back here? “i am walrus, i am walrus, ki ko ki shoom,”? Almost apologetically, the gravity of the situation asserted itself and the two young guitar shoppers were forced to accept the irrevocability of what had happened. One of them had been shopping for a guitar, the other a bass. The guitarist swooned but the bass player kept his cool and dashed back into the store and behind the counter to call an ambulance for the mutilated Japanese boy in the chair.

Rather than sobering PJ up, the accident thrust him into an entirely different realm of intoxication. He still thought maybe he could keep this whole thing quiet and nobody would find out. So he placed BD’s ear on the counter next to the jar of blue disinfectant. Then he combed some of the blood out of BD’s hair and skillfully continued the abstract trimming he had begun a few moments earlier. BD passed out, certain that his plane to JFK hadn’t even landed yet.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and rushed BD to the hospital. Police arrested PJ and pulled BD’s ear and $200 from his pocket. The ear was perfectly in tact, like an unbitten cookie, but it would never work again. Blood and hair had clogged BD’s auditory canal and damaged his eardrum during his convulsions and the entire left side of his face caught an infection from PJ’s rusty scissors. At CT and FL’s insistence, the ear was sewn back onto BD’s head for reasons purely cosmetic.

BD stayed in the hospital for a few days. His design and magazine contacts were notified and they all came to visit him. It was a great disappointment for all parties concerned that the mysterious BD should finally be revealed in a hospital cot with a useless ear freshly stitched onto such a blotched, ugly face, capped now by his astonishing haircut. Several established members of the industry in which BD starred were horrified to learn of the conditions of the Rude Boy Salon. None of them were opposed to underground fashion per se, but a homeless drunk using unsanitary blades seemed too extreme. This was not a haircut. It was assault and they demanded justice.

Back on Ludlow Street, word spread. MK stood in front of his store smoking and furtively looking for anyone wearing one of CN’s PJ t-shirts, which he was prepared to buy for as much as $35 apiece. He needed to distance himself from the incident and keep his store open. As soon as the police had taken PJ away, he had taken down the canopy and the chair and dumped the remaining furniture in a different alley, in Queens. Then he had RS scrub BD’s blood off of the concrete behind the store. Rude Boy was finished, but he’d be damned before he’d lose the Lit Fuse. He considered offering to pay BD’s medical expenses, but then thought that such a gesture might suggest greater responsibility for the assault than he could afford to accept. PJ lived in a flophouse on skid row. He had no family, no money and, to MK’s way of thinking, a primitive, ill-developed grasp on reality. PJ could afford to take the whole rap.

But how would a rap stick to a man as disenfranchised as PJ? With no driver’s license, no social security number, no fingerprints on file, no credit, no library card, no nothing except a nickname, he was a phantom, completely disentangled from the institutional marionette strings yanking most of us around.

PJ was being held at the 7th Precinct. Detective QV had been called in to help discern PJ’s identity. PJ was little help. No matter what question they asked him, PJ said, “I cut that Chinese boy. I cut that boy.”

QV pulled PJ’s arresting officer aside.

“What do you know about this guy?”

“Officially, not much, detective. Everybody in the neighborhood knows him but nobody knows anything about him. Last name, where he’s from, nothing. The guy’s slicker than batshit. Most famous John Doe I ever met.”

“The kid in the hospital pressing charges?”

“That’s what proprietor of the guitar shop says.”

“Lit Fuse?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I know that guy. MK. He’s a real cocksucker. Wish we could arrest him instead.”

“Nothing tying him to the incident, detective. The alley where the barber chair was ain’t even his property. And any business ties he had with homeboy in there were strictly off the books. Not a thing we can do about it.”

“What about all that noisy shit in his window?”

“He says it’s a gift from some Japanese kid whose friends request him to play it. So how long we gonna keep Mr. PJ in there?”

“I dunno. Assault like that’s two to four. But we don’t really know who he is. No assets to lean on, no retribution for the kid’s ear. Just punishment for the old guy.”

The phone rang and the officer went back to his desk to answer it. Detective QV paced back and forth, rubbing his head and smoking. He didn’t like any of it. He was worried that PJ would be remanded to the mental ward at Bellevue with the rest of the John Does if he didn’t cough up more details about himself. But PJ was too distraught to recount a personal history. People around the neighborhood repeated his stories about North Carolina and the sanitation department, the Sunshine Hotel stuck to its policy of non-cooperation, and civic records had nothing that matched his prints or general appearance. He didn’t like any of it.

PJ’s groaning lament continued: “I cut that Chinese boy. I cut that boy. I cut that Chinese boy. I cut that boy.”

Several months earlier, back when BD was still in Osaka, AO finally scraped together enough money to buy his guitar back from the Lit Fuse. But MK wanted more than double what AO had hocked it for, which was considerably less than AO had saved up. So, needing something to play on his upcoming tour of central Michigan, AO was forced to settle for an inferior guitar. He handed MK his hard earned cash and stared up at his own baby hanging on the wall, gleaming forlornly back at him. MK shrugged behind the register in mock empathy with AO. AO was PJ’s cousin.

MK sat behind the counter at the Lit Fuse, sweaty and nervous. He hadn’t slept for days and the only thing he’d eaten in the last 24 hours was half a bottle of aspirin. Three times yesterday, he thought he heard PJ shouting in the street. He turned down to his pocket video game to distract himself from the strange paranoia that had afflicted him ever since he had visited the 7th Precinct to wriggle himself out of any occupation of the space between BD and his ear.

A mist jammed his nostrils and yanked out a sneeze.

“God bless you.”

MK looked up to see PJ towering over him in a cowboy hat.

Two police officers in uniform entered the Lit Fuse and handcuffed MK and read him the Miranda warning. PJ pulled AO’s baby down from the wall and handed it to him.

Back at the hospital, BD was going through therapy to regain a sense of balance and adjust to his hearing loss. CT and FL informed him that PJ was out of jail and that the owner of the shop had been arrested instead. The owner of the alley behind the Lit Fuse had been summoned to prosecute MK for vandalism and conducting unlicensed surgery on private property. PJ had been bailed out by a relative.

BD wanted to know what the relative had told the police about PJ.

“Not much,” FL said. “Just that he didn’t used to be so simple. He wouldn’t say what happened or how he dissipated so or anything.”

“Is he in any more trouble?” BD asked.

“That’s up to you,” CT told him.

A few days later, BD checked out of the hospital and went downtown to see PJ. He wore a hunting hat with earflaps to cover his wound. BD was directed east to a small jazz club called Quinine where he stood outside, smoking cigarettes and waiting for PJ.

Sure enough, the older man emerged from the club lugging his garbage. He was much less exuberant than he had been the first time the two had met. PJ stopped for a rest and struck up a conversation with the young Japanese man in the hat.

“Yo cuz! Gimme cigarette.”

“Here. Take two.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“Yes.”

“I used to cut hair over Ludlow Street.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But I hurt somebody. He a Chinese like you.”

“Mmmm.”

“He a nice young man, too. I felt bad.I used to be barber, before I work for sanitation department.”

“Ah.”

BD looked down at his cigarette.

“See, you got to learn more English. This the USA, man! This ain’t China. USA!”

“I trying. Thank you.”

“A’ight cuz. See you later, k?”

#Barber of Ludlow Street #Ludlow Street #Short Story #Lower East Side #Hip Hop #Rock and Roll #Shuman #Fiction #Papa Joe #Sunshine Hotel #LES

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