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iamcalmdammit · 1 year

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The truth is out || [Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader]

Summary: Rumor has it you're a psychopath but Ghost begins to doubt it. When you end up on the run together, the truth eventually comes out about your mutual feelings.

Ghost used the emerging opportunity created by Soap's escape to get out of the Shadows' sight and hide not far from the road. He was still within earshot and watched as some men took Alejandro inside while you and Graves remained out on the road. You had one hand on your gun just in case, but other than that, you didn't look particularly taken aback by the situation.

Could it be that you had known all along? Psychopaths were known for being excellent actors, making everyone believe they are perfectly normal citizens. But you had also told him once when you were alone that you found the Shadows weird, especially Graves. You didn't trust them according to your statement. Well, you didn't trust anyone, this is why you usually worked alone.

"Wait, wait, wait," your voice finally broke the silence. "But if mommy and daddy are getting divorced, who will I stay with?"

The corners of Graves's lips curled into a half smile as he looked at you. It was as clear as day that this guy wanted something from you, but you never returned the sentiment. "I suggest you pick a side, sweetheart," was all he said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

You let out a humming sound as your eyes moved to the spot where Soap had disappeared not long ago, then to the back of the car that hid Ghost himself before he could escape too. Then your gaze returned to Graves and you said, "I think I’ll pick daddy."

His eyes twitched for a moment as he realized you were talking about ditching him and the Shadow Company for Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros. Ghost couldn't help but quietly laugh at the sight. Their betrayal hurt, but seeing his smug smile disappear like this surely brightened his shitty day.

"Suit yourself. Shoot her!" Graves gave out the order.

And just like that, you found yourself having multiple guns suddenly pointing at you, while Graves casually got into the car and drove to the base. "Fuck, I didn’t think this through," you said with a groan as you quickly sized up your chances for survival.

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath he didn't even notice he had held in until now. He couldn't leave you getting shot like that after choosing them over Graves or yourself. Reaching down for a smoke grenade, he quickly thought about the plan. He gets you out of here first then you find Soap together. Easy peasy.

He threw the grenade near you, and just as the smoke began to come out, he shouted, "Run, Y/N!" It didn't take you more than a second to put the pieces together and start running towards the woods by the road. He immediately got up and followed you, hoping you wouldn't hear his footsteps and think the Shadows were the ones after you here.

They didn't go after Soap, they didn't start looking for him after he disappeared, so he was quite sure they wouldn't follow you either. When you stopped for a moment to catch your breath and take a good look around, he finally reached you and stopped a few steps away with his hands up. "It's just me," he said quietly when you pointed your gun at him.

Seconds passed unusually slowly as you assessed the situation, your eyes scanning his body from top to bottom several times. Then you finally lowered your weapon and asked, "The smoke grenade was yours, right?" Ghost nodded right away. "Thank you. You saved my life with that. I didn't have much of a chance back there."

"You're welcome," he said. "So you chose us over them?"

You shrugged with a smile. "You guys grew on me, I couldn't help myself."

As he watched you, Ghost couldn't help but see you in a different light. You weren't acting like you were friendly. You were actually, truly friendly towards him, seemingly meaning every word you said. And when he took a closer look at your face he discovered certain things, like the shape of your nose or the shade of pink your lips were, that gave him insight into what Graves probably saw in you.

Maybe you weren't capable of having real emotions, or at least the range was heavily limited, but you were still breathtaking in a lot of ways. He was drawn to you with every cell in his body, wishing he could reach out and run a finger down your cheek before kissing you, finally getting a taste of those rosy lips.

He had been watching you since Laswell had introduced you to the team, hoping to get a chance to find out more about the gorgeous lone wolf that was thrown into their pack. It was Soap who told him about your reputation, the story of the psychopath no one could work with for long.

But his own experiences started to make him doubt these rumors. You were only as cold and heartless as the rest of them, not more, not less. The thing that stood out was your personality around the team when you loosened up a little. You could be quite annoying sometimes, joking at the worst possible times, but at the end of the day he found it strangely charming.

"Are you coming?"

Ghost looked up, suddenly realizing he had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice you were talking to him until now. "Sure," he said after clearing his throat and picking up your pace.

While the two of you began walking, he tried to reach Soap over the radio but there was no answer. Where the hell was he? Ghost truly hoped he survived and was hiding out somewhere nearby. They had to regroup and come up with a plan. Right now there were only a handful of people he could trust and one of them was by his side already. One down, another one to go in the immediate future.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, playfully poking his side with your elbow to get his attention.

Letting out a sigh, he looked down at you and thought about what to say. He was thinking about many different things at the same time. His friends who were either captured or missing, the rage he felt from someone they all trusted betraying them like that, and a woman who was a complete mystery but still managed to awaken inappropriate thoughts and feelings in him.

So, what should he begin with? "A lot of things," he said in the end. "Can I ask you something?" You nodded and waited for him to continue with your head sweetly tilted to the side. Why were you making his life so difficult? "When you were talking to Graves, you said you picked daddy. How did he know you were talking about us?"

"Well, we have a short history together. We went on a date once after a mission and things just didn't work out. I may or may not have said something about him not being a man enough to handle me," you explained, flashing a wicked smile at him. "I think he understood the reference. He deserves it, after all he started a rumor that I'm a psychopath."

"So you're not like that?" Ghost asked cautiously.

"I'm not. Honestly, I'm done explaining myself to people, I just let them think what they think now." You kept a short pause while you came to a halt and turned to look up at him. "And I think he knew because he picked up on something."

He raised an eyebrow under the mask as he watched you. "What?"

Suddenly a wide smile appeared on your lips and he could have sworn you blushed. "Maybe there is a specific person I called Daddy in this case," you told him.

"Who?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.

Instead of answering, you simply moved your hand in front of your mouth, telling him that your lips were zipped. What kind of game were you playing? Did you enjoy driving him crazy? This was neither the right time nor place for that.

But before he knew it, you took his hand and pulled him forward, causing his body to crash into yours. His mind was racing as he tried to process what was happening. "You're no fun, I thought you'd keep asking," you told him quietly. "Why don't you guess?"

He didn't want to play. What you had said about Graves a few minutes ago, how he wasn't man enough to handle you, gave him an idea. He had to take control of this situation. Yes, that's what he had to do. So he took a deep breath, laced his gloved fingers with yours and spoke up. "I don't play games. But I need you to know that I can't get you out of my mind. Let's be honest, this isn't exactly an advantage in our current situation."

There was a glint in your eyes that gave away your emotions right away. "I'm sorry," you said as you bit on your lower lip.

"Don't be, it's not entirely your fault," he assured you. It was true, he was just as guilty in that.

A part of him was dying to take off his mask and kiss you in the safety of the woods, but another part was trying to snap him out of this stupid haze to make him focus on the mission. He would have time to deal with his emotions when it was over, now he had to find Soap and come up with a plan.

You clearly knew what he was thinking about because you flashed an understanding smile at him and went, "Let's find your friend. I'm sure he's looking for you."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty spoilers #modern warfare #modern warfare ii spoilers #modern warfare ii #phillip graves

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fandomhcs · 30 days

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dating harley quinn would include:

constant laughter. jokes that make no sense, have no punchline, yet still leave you both delirious from giggling so much. your sides hurt with her all the time.

harley is a roller coaster of the most beautiful variety. she’s beautiful and sweet, playful and brilliant. she brightens up every room she enters and you never let her forget it.

behind all the color, laughter, and smoke bombs hides a lot of insecurity and pain. the two of you don’t really talk about it, about him, but you know enough. instead of focusing on that, you can tell that she just wants to charge forward in life and leave it all behind her. while that may not be the healthiest of ways to cope, you can’t really fault her for it. nor can you complain about being dragged along with her on her wacky adventure.

greasy diner food, roller skates, and speeding along the highway blasting music to drown out the assholes that honk at you. there’s never a dull moment.

even in the safety of your own apartment harley brings a certain sense of vibrancy. curled up on your couch, unable to tell whose limbs are whose, she’ll babble on about anything and everything. you’ve learned all the dirty details of gotham’s underbelly thanks to her rambling. she even let it spill that harvey dent’s got a secret tattoo that the tabloids would just die to find out.

speaking of gotham’s underbelly, harley isn’t one to keep you out of it. she trusts you to handle your own. you’re dating her, aren’t ya? got to be some sort of bad ass to do that. even if you’re a civilian, there’s nowhere else she’d want you to be than with her. though that might mean having to teach you some tips and tricks to keep outta too much trouble.

who would’ve known that picking a lock was so hard? or that hot wiring your car while your girlfriend shoots glitter grenades at gotham pd would be so thrilling.

but for all the thrills and chills, harley also loves a romantic, chill night in. she loves to cuddle you, almost never letting your out of her arms even in public. she’ll kiss you, hug you, smack your ass, and she doesn’t give a damn who sees her do it!

anybody with a complaint about your relationship mysteriously ends up covered in pink paint and chicken feathers. or worse, if they keep pushing her. anyone who trash talks her baby is gonna get a face full of harley fuckin’ quinn, that’s for sure.

expect to be friends with lots of people you really never imagined being friends with. one day poison ivy will show up at your house with a small potted plant and warn you that if anything happens to it you die, the next black frickin’ canary shows up to ask if harley has stolen her tights again. harley collects people, her heart too big and vibrant for her not to be buddies with half of gotham (despite half of gotham wanting to shoot her, of course). some of these people, over time, become your people too. and it isn’t that uncommon for cassandra cain to be found snoring on your couch, for catwoman’s heels to be tossed in the corner of your kitchen while she digs through your fridge, or for the little old lady down the street to knock on your door with a freshly baked quiche.

bruce loves you, and i mean abso-frickin’-lutely adores you. the precious pup curls up around you every night when you head to bed, begs for treats every time you go to the kitchen, and never leaves your side when you leave the house without harley. heck, sometimes you cuddle the sweet boy more than you cuddle your own girlfriend. and she doesn’t even have the heart to be mad about it. (she’ll pout, though. you know she’ll pout.)

at the end of the day, treat harley quinn with kindness and respect and she’s gonna love you.

kiss her in the rain, bring her breakfast in bed, dance around in your underwear to the hairspray musical. understand that life is a blast and you gotta make the best out of it. kiss her pretty face all over, swing her around in your arms, blow raspberries on her skin. make her laugh, make her smile, and she’s yours.

she’s weird and makes no sense sometimes, and some of her antics raise your blood pressure to alarming levels. but there is no one else who’ll rock your world the way she can.

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn headcanons #dc #dc reader insert #hcs #dwi

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archivistofnerddom · 7 months

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How the Batch responds to someone who denigrates the color pink in front of them

And God forbid if this happens when Omega is figuring out her personal style, preferences, and fashion sense.

The Batch would certainly not ascribe to the belief that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. They make it their personal mission to prove that that’s nonsense.

Hunter

Guess who found pink-handled knives? And guess who will always at least two strapped to his belt at all times?

Rambo Barbie over here has traded out his usual bandana for a bright pink one. He’s wearing it with absolute and complete unfazed confidence. Giggle about it at your own risk and peril.

Just in case the knives and bandana were a little too subtle, he makes a point of wearing pink (possibly flannel) shirts regularly. Said shirts run the full spectrum of pink, but that’s fine. He thinks he looks good in the color.

He will absolutely look anyone who goes off about the pink/blue gendered thing dead in the eye and just go, “No.” That usually stops the BS in its tracks.

Crosshair

This man knows he looks good in black. That doesn’t stop him from having pink be his new go-to highlight color. All of the little accessories and details on his armor and helmet are now a lovely share of pink.

When his hair starts coming back in, he starts coloring to a nice light pink (blush) color. Just don’t mistake the pink hair for friendliness though. He’s still a snarky bastard.

His Firepuncher gets a makeover too. Crosshair enjoys taking people out with a neon pink sniper rifle. (It sets a very specific, very petty tone — and he’s here for it.)

He will also intentionally be a little shit and set people up to get verbally knocked down a peg or three. Tech has roughly five versions of the same speech about how assigned gendering colors is an outdated concept. Crosshair is going to do his twin a solid and let him loose on idiots. (He enjoys watching the chaos and panic that unfolds.)

Tech

Like I said, he will give a full lecture about the fallacy of “Pink is for girls, and blue is for boys.” Oh, did you want to see slides to go along with that? Here, he’s got those too.

Tech shows up with pink-framed goggles, a pink-cased data pad, and pink embroidery on all his pockets and pouches within 24 hours. For him, fashion is functional first, but it can also be fun and make a statement.

Did you say give the Marauder a new paint job? Why yes, it is time that it got a new look. Thank you so much for suggesting that. (And yes, Wrecker helped with the paint job and redesign. They both did such a good job.)

Tech also knows how to recalibrate his blasters so that his blaster bolts and stun rays are pink. He can show you how he did, if you ask him nicely.

Wrecker

This man comes in one setting — loud and enthusiastic support. And the best way to do that? Head-to-toe neon pink At All Times. (Seriously, this man shows up with completely pink armor and a helmet and just continues to do his normal job without commenting on his new paint job.)

Lula gets a wardrobe upgrade too. She’s now for a very cool pink jacket that Wrecker made for her himself.

Wrecker will loudly and eagerly proclaim that pink is his absolute favorite color anytime he hears a person talking shit about the color. He isn’t putting on a front either. He does love the color pink.

Guess who has pink smoke grenades and pink glitter bombs in his pack at all time? Wrecker. Why? Well, why not!?!?!

Echo

Bright pink kama for life! No, he will accept no questions or suggestions to the otherwise. His kama is pink, and he looks fabulous.

Echo may be a part of the Bad Batch now, but he was part of the 501st and Domino Squad before that. If you give him just the slightest scrap of an idea, he’ll run with it in a way that would make Fives proud . . . which is why so many people wind up covered in a violently pink glitter-and-glue mixture when they say stupid shit. (Wrecker may have helped.)

He gets Tech to upgrade his scomp to be metallic pink.

Grumpy Disappointed Mom Face gets deployed with great effect. Echo isn’t mad that you’re spouting nonsense. He had just hoped you didn’t buy into the nonsense that only girls can like pink.

Omega

Omega colors the tips of her hair to be bright pink. It’s actually a whole family project, especially in deciding which shade of pink would look best on her. She also used this as an opportunity to try some new hair styles to show off her color makeover.

She also got Tech to readjust her bow so that it too fires pink bolts. (They’re gleeful menaces on the battlefield together.)

Leaning into pink helps Omega connect with her femininity. For as much as she loves her brothers, that’s one area where they aren’t the best role models (even if they fully support her during this journey). She is the one who helped her brothers incorporate pink into their current wardrobe.

Omega also learns how to give manicures. The only polish choice anyone she gives one to gets to make is whether or not they want glitter. Everyone is going to be rocking pink nails when she gives them a manicure. (The Batch are very diligent and serious about maintaining their manicures.)

#the bad batch headcanons #how they react to someone saying that pink is for girls #they’re a little unhinged but their hearts are in the right place #also I fully accept that wrecker would show up in head-to-toe neon pink #(he doesn’t do anything by halves)#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #arc trooper echo

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the-pen-pot · 4 months

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20 questions for fic writers 2023

How many works do you have on Ao3? 157 and counting 😁

What's your total Ao3 word count? 3,745,780

What fandoms do you write for? I'm currently very active in Merlin, with WiPs in the Hobbit, Teen Wolf and BBC Sherlock as well

What are your top five fics by kudos? The Gilded Cage (Sherlock) Electric Pink Hand Grenade (Sherlock) Sorcerer's Bane (Merlin) Midnight Blue Serenity (Sherlock The Riven Crown (The Hobbit)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Absolutely! I love fostering a sense of community around my fics when I can!

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmmm, I tend to be a happy ending person, but I go in for angst on the way. Hiraeth is probably my angstiest one yet.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think I always do happy endings, but Sorcerer's Bane is probably the happiest.

Do you get hate on fics? Sometimes. The Gilded Cage is the most likely, because Omegaverse really upsets some people, for some reason.

Do you write smut? Yep, my fics tend to be plotty with smut involved along the way !

Do you write crossovers? No, but I love a good AU

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. More than once. Most of hte time its blatant copy and paste (including my Author's notes!!) but once I had someone sort of muddle in passages of my stuff with their own. it was sort of a borderline case where the wording was incredibly similar.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, and I am delighted and honoured by it!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not really - not for years anyway. I work better alone 😁

What's your all-time favourite ship? I mean, this changes, but right now it is hands-down Merthur. They own me.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have far too many, and I do intend to finish them all, but I wonder if I'll ever manage No Smoke Without Fire, a long FMA one that I abandoned when the Sherlock fandom stole my brain.

What are your writing strengths? Descriptions and actions scenes, I think. It's what i feel most comofrtable writing.

What are your writing weaknesses? I am rarely concise! I can't judge the length of a fic as I'm writing it for love nor money, and I find writing sex scenes incredibly unsexy.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? That it ought only to be attempted with the assistance of someone whose first language IS that language.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Technically? Melanie Rawn's DragonPrince books because she killed a character and I wouldn't let that stant. However it was one a type writer. First ever put online? Extreme ghostbusters... circa 1998 I think.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Another answer that changes from one year to hte next. At the moment, it's probably Sorcerer's Bane, but honestly? I love them all 😁

#On Writing

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magicalgirlagency · 4 months

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@mew-cake is totally correct when she said that Magical Destroyers could've been so much better if the story was told through the perspective of a girl otaku; like how girls often have to deal with shit like gatekeeping and uncomfortable sexualization in otaku/fandom circles, being constantly scrutinized for committing the unforgivable sin of having a hobby and enjoying things.

So, I just had a quick idea for a rewrite/reboot (it may not be perfect, but here's what my brain could muster):

Otaku Hero is the Magical Girls' Aniki (Big Bro), a mentor of sorts. He pulls a Project Mew by constructing the pocket-sized assistant Kyunsuke to search for the three heroines to help him in leading his otaku revolution and freeing his colleagues from systemic oppression.

The assistant gives the girls three tote bags as their main henshin item, each of them with a different costume inside (referencing cosplay). The costumes are fueled by the girls' willpower, making their innermost desires come to life.

Each of the Magical Girls has a theme that pertrains to otaku culture, or rather, a protest against its rotten treatment of female characters (as well as a desire to see more female characters that aren't moe-moe-kyun):

Anarchy-chan (who I'll refer to as "Akane" because seriously, these girls were so objectified to the point that they didn't even had names!) should've represented the female character who is loud and boisterous. She's not cute nor sweet, she doesn't exist to appease to your desires. Her weapon is a war hammer;

Blue (who I'll refer to as "Nanami") should've represented the female character who is sexually confident. She's not perpetually horny, but she has an issue with how female characters are often percieved as and pure, sinless and ignorant virgins. Her weapon is a whip;

Pink (who I'll refer to as "Momoko") should've represented the female character with unusual hobbies. She doesn't enjoy girly hobbies like shopping and make-up, strongly preferring to study about drugs and firearms instead. Her weapon is an infinite assortment of grenades and smoking bombs.

Each of these girls represent a desire of seeing more nuanced and fleshed-out female characters in media. A want for more female characters with traits and personalities so fucked up that they'd be much more well-recieved if they were male characters.

Alongside their mentor, they fight for theirs and other people's rights to express themselves without fear nor scrutiny.

Not to discredit Jun Inagawa (he seems to be genuinely passionate about what he does), but if he really wanted to show Magical Girls being foul and rude, then he should've fully committed to the bit instead of falling into the tired and outdated animanga tropes and stereotypes.

If it's not done with proper care, research and hours of thought, then maybe your "passion project" wasn't passionate at all.

#magical girl

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whumpacabra · 2 months

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Day 26: “Help them.”

Military setting, triage situation, loss of a limb, explosion, building collapse, field medicine, blood loss, loss of consciousness, execution, dehumanization, death of unnamed characters, firearm use, tobacco use [smoking], referenced suicide bombing, referenced fire

Wolf’s body moved before he processed what had happened. The explosion, it’s source - none of that mattered right now, not with his hands clamped around the stub of an arm while he tried to drag a man away from the debris.

“What are you doing?” His CO’s voice was something between amused confusion and frustrated annoyance. “Any left probably escaped out the back, go with Vern and…”

Wolf was tuning out his superior’s voice, consumed by the struggling gasps of the man below him. He couldn’t have been much older than Wolf - if anything, he was younger, soft face stained with soot and blood and tears. His eyes were screwed shut in pain, sobs wracking his body while Wolf secured a tourniquet just above his elbow.

“You hear me soldier? We - ”

There was a scream, somewhere in the rubble, young and feminine. She was begging - from somewhere half crushed under cement and support beams - asking for her daughter. Wolf couldn’t hear any reply to her agonized cries over the roar of blood in his ears and the crackle of fire. He looked to his CO, abject desperation clearly written on his face.

“What are you doing? Help them.” He nodded to the rubble, frustration and denial creeping into his expression. The young man under his hands had fallen unconscious, still bleeding profusely from his severed arm. Wolf flinched as a hand yanked at the collar of his vest, dragging him up and away from the injured man. “What - sir, they need medical attention - ”

His CO unceremoniously shot the young man in the head, blood spatter and brain matter leaking pink and red across the dusty concrete. Wolf froze, shocked to stillness. And still the woman’s cries persisted, begging for help, for her daughter to reply.

“I gave you an order, soldier.” The soldier’s voice was even, cold and quiet as he turned to Wolf. “Go to Vern and sweep the back of the building.”

“He could have survived - ”

“He could have pulled the pin on this grenade and killed both of you.” His CO snarled as he kicked the dead man’s chest, the grenade rattling from where it hung. “I don’t give orders for my health, boy, I give them for yours. Now go - ”

“They will die if we don’t help them!” Wolf gestured to the still smoldering rubble, the woman’s screams having dissolved into wailing sobs.

“They should have thought of that before shacking up with a suicide bomber. Now do as you are told.”

“They’re people, sir. I can’t just - ”

“They’re animals, Haas. The only help we can give them is to put them out of their misery.”

Wolf stared at him a few breaths before realizing his CO truly believed that. His voice came thin and hoarse, shaky with anger and disgust.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Oh, you did. Give it a few months, you’ll understand.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not the first bleeding heart medic I’ve had.” His CO’s eyes were harsh, appraising. “When we get back to base camp you’ll be properly disciplined. We have work to do. Now let’s go.”

The woman’s cries had silenced, only the sound of fires smoldering low and the shifting rubble under their feet. Wolf walked forward, nausea curdling in his gut as he listened to his CO light a cigarette behind him. The stench of tobacco couldn’t hide the smell of burning flesh.

[Before Wolf Downed]

(Part of my Freelancers: Swansong series)

Taglist: @stargeode

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novankenn · 9 months

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Reluctant Hero?

= Thirteen = (Chapter List)

It took Cardin only a minute or so to catch up to Jaune, who he found pulling his chainsaw-hand out of the ground the white eyed top half of a Beowulf head laying at his feet. The body just off to the side, with black ichor spurting from the gruesome wound.

Jaune: Are you good? You ready to do this?

Cardin just nodded.

Jaune: Remember, if they look like how your friends did... they're already dead. You're not killing them, you're ending their pain.

Cardin just nodded again. Jaune nodded to him and moved off, heading north, or what Cardin thought was north. He hesitated only for a second before falling into step behind him.

/==/ Ten Minutes Later - the Ruins /==/

Ruby lay in the fetal position, as a black haired woman with cat ears tore the guts out of her sister. Yang had rushed to her aide, only to be overwhelmed. Her screams of pain had only just ended. With blood dripping from her hands, the thing hissed at her, and started to move forward.

Between them, Weiss stood. Her eyes wide with panic, and her hands shaking as she tried to hold her rapier steady. The whatever it was closed, a wickedly twisted and malicious grin on her face.

????: I am so going to enjoy ripping your heart from your chest... Schnee.

Weiss: (Her voice wavering with fear) Stay back! I'm... I'm warning you!

????: (Laughing darkly as she closed even more) You can't stop us. You are nothing, all of you are nothing but flesh and souls to consume!

The blast of a pink smoked grenade, tossed the twisted form of a faunus backwards tumbling through the air. It landed in a heap and remained still.

????: That's for Rennie!

The orange haired, gore streaked woman closed on Weiss, her weapon never straying off the crumpled form. Weiss' breath still came in ragged gasps, as the other woman, finally, took a place right next to her.

????: Are you okay? I'm Nora, by the way.

Weiss: Weiss Schnee, and I... I don't know.

Nora: (Pointing towards the whimpering form of Ruby, with a movement of her head) What about her?

Weiss: I don't know.

Nora: We need to get out of here, like now.

Weiss: I need to check on her (pointing with her shaking rapier towards the sprawled out form of Yang.)

Nora: Ah, her intestines are all over the surrounding ground... I don't...

Weiss: I think she was her sister. I have to check.

Nora: Okay. Be careful.

Weiss nodded and with hesitant steps approached the form of the blond haired woman. Weiss was pretty sure there was nothing she could do for her, but still she had to make sure. Once she was close enough, Weiss reached down and gently pressed her slim fingers against the woman's neck.

Suddenly the woman's eyes snapped open, and with a lightening fast twist of her head, she sunk her teeth into Weiss' wrist. Weiss screamed in pain and terror as she dropped her weapon and tried in vain to yank her hand free.

Nora: Weiss, get out of the way!

Weiss: I'm TRYING!

Weiss threw all of her pitiful body weight backwards. She didn't succeed in freeing herself, in fact, she did nothing but cause herself to fall to the ground. With a sickening fleshy tearing sound, the woman that was grinding her teeth into Weiss's wrist, pulled her top half free of her bottom half.

#rwby #ash vs evil dead #horror themed #jaune arc #deadite grimm #deadites #ruby rose #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna

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lostlimerence · 2 years

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The Periphery

He starts on the periphery of their world.

Blonde, beautiful and brutal. That’s how Eddie described him one night, joint in hand, heady smoke thickening the air. Steve had snorted, choking a little on an inhale, “ever the poet eh?” Eddie’s gaze had slid from the hazy night sky and locked onto Steve “always darling,” he’d said with a quirk of his lip, a look that had dropped straight to Steve’s gut, coiling and warming in a way that made him squirm, made the back of his neck heat, made his toes curl a little. It was a feeling he was getting used to desperately trying to dissipate as of late, that night he’d done it by asking why the fuck they were talking about Billy Hargrove, though of course it was a question he’d known the answer to.

Ever since Max’s hospitalisation, everyone, family and friends, had become hyper-vigilant. She was never alone, Steve felt for the girl, she must’ve been feeling completely smothered. Said smothering meant that whenever she came over to Steve’s with the others (which was a lot) a begrudging Billy Hargrove would appear in tow now too.

The first time he’d turned up the tension that’d shot through the room had been stifling, Steve had clenched his teeth on a grin, unsure of his next move, complicated feelings had churned in his stomach as his fingers dug hard into the doorframe. The room was a grenade, and he’d seen Dustin gearing up to pull the pin, luckily Max had gotten there first. With the authority of an army general the girl had scanned the room with unseeing eyes, opened her mouth and barked “you want me here, he has to be here too you fucktards, no complaints. Ok?” she’d raised a brow as mumbles of affirmation had echoed around the room.

Then she’d shoved further into the room asking what takeout they were getting that night, seemingly satisfied that everyone would be tolerating her step-brothers presence. Billy had remained in the doorway until Steve had realised he needed to move to let him in, which he had, Billy had mumbled an awkward thanks placed himself in a seat at the edge of the room and then promptly ignored all of them.

So that was that. Suddenly there he was on the periphery, the boundary of their world, of everything they’d been doing for the past few weeks.

Tonight, he stands in the threshold between the lounge and the kitchen, silently watching Eddie’s Dungeon Master performance. His lip is split and his jaw is purpling, perfectly highlighting the ‘brutal’ part of Eddie’s epithet. Steve’s kind of joined him tonight on the periphery, because when Eddie commands a room he does it completely, this is his stage, he’s captivating, enthralling and Steve can see even Billy can’t help being pulled in a bit.

Steve has never understood the game, doesn’t pretend to, so he doesn’t notice the mistake when El enters the room to announce “next time I would like to play and I would like to be a turtle.” eyes wide and hopeful, hesitant smile aimed at Eddie, who is so soft for all the children, and looks ready to burst with joy at the idea of a new player. He’s about to answer when an unexpected voice enters the ring, “you mean Tortle,” it comes out in a low rumble but it permeates the room, Billy looks shocked he’s said it, Eddie spins towards him with an “Oh,” and Steve swears to god he can see his pupils dilate a little when his eyes land on the blonde, a smirk stretching over his face as he says “after weeks the brooding barbarian speaks!” and Billy isn’t immune to the intensity of that gaze because where Steve expected a rage filled ‘shut the fuck up Munson’ instead they get a mumbled, almost embarrassed “just play your fucking game Munson.” The tips of his ears are a little pink, which Steve thinks is actually a bit cute. To his credit Eddie doesn’t keep him in the spotlight, he lets his gaze linger a little longer before telling El that of course she can be a Tortle next time, then promptly jumping back into his manic tirade.

Steve doesn’t know exactly what compels him, maybe it’s the slight show of embarrassment, the crazy revelation that bad boy Billy Hargrove might know much more than he’s let on about the nerdiest game Steve has ever seen, but he takes a step over and simply says “beer?” eyebrow raised in question, and Billy looks a little shocked at this too but he nods, grumbles a “yes,” and before he knows it Steve is leaning against the living room wall with the ‘brutal barbarian,’ sharing a beer watching the manic Dungeon Master attempt to end the game for the night.

Once he’s managed, Billy immediately calls out for Max who groans loudly ready to start her, usually futile, begging to stay longer. Billy looks ready to say his usual piece too, they need to be back in time for dinner, in time for curfew, because apparently their parents are really strict, something Steve sometimes wishes he had from his own parents, because then at least he would know they cared.

This time though the usual flow of the play is interrupted “woah hold on there, you should stay, have another beer, let the kid eat some more pizza, hmm?” Eddie has a way of saying things so convincingly, that Steve is nodding along though he’s not even sure that this is the best idea. Billy looks torn, has a little conflicted frown on his face as he deliberates, and Steve for some reason is overcome with the need, the want for the blonde to stay with them a little longer too. So he pipes up “yeah why not stay? One for the road?,” and the combined weight of their expectant looks seems to convince Billy because he sighs and says, “One hour shitbird, and you fucking explain to Neil when we get back,” absently thumbing the bruise on his jaw. Steve’s not one hundred percent sure who Neil is, he’d thought Billy’s biological link in their family was the dad and Max’s the mum but maybe he’d mixed that up, he doesn’t let himself dwell on it.

The next hour passes quickly, they learn that some of Billy’s friends back in California played dnd, though he’d insisted he’d never played himself, something Eddie refused to believe. They talk and talk and fall into such an easy rhythm that the trio don’t notice that the hour is up until Max clears her throat “Billy it’s been an hour,” and she looks a little nervous, suddenly she’s not a kid desperate to stay for pizza she’s one anxious to get home. The flip is perplexing, maybe her anxiety has increased since the hospitalisation, it would make sense, whatever it is Billy seems to get it, he gets up from the kitchen island grabs his leather jacket and they both head to the door with haste. Eddie and Steve stumble after them ready to wave them off. The tips of Billy’s ears are a little red again as he gives a hasty goodbye, shoving Max out the door and towards the Camero.

“Hmm blonde obviously, beautiful absolutely, but maybe not quite as brutal as we think ey Stevie?” Eddie mumbles eyes locked on the retreating form. Steve has experienced first hand the brutal side of Billy Hargrove, he knows it’s there bubbling under the surface, but he can’t help but be intrigued by their experience with the guy tonight. His easy laugh, his gentle charm, maybe there’s something more to him, he turns to Eddie with a little grin, “hmm I still think barbarian fits him, a beautiful barbarian maybe?” he jokes, Eddie smiles back “we’ll make a poet of you yet, darling,” he chuckles low as they turn to watch the Camero speed off into the night.

#harringroveson #mungrove #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #strangerthings #stranger things #fic #writing #pre relationship #max mayfield

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smokeflares · 9 months

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#smoke grenade pink #smoke grenade pink online #smoke grenade #buy smoke grenade pink #buy smoke grenade pink online #buy smoke grenade #buy pink smoke grenade online #buy pink smoke grenade #pink smoke grenade online

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maddieautobot273 · 8 months

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Silk & Cologne (37)

A Miguel O'Hara x OC Series - Link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 37 - Compromised - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female OC

Words: 3.8K+ words

Warnings: PG-13 for violence and fight sequences, implied torture, forced injection

Summary: Lisa ventures further into the manor in search of Harry.

//////

The hallway was quiet and cold compared to the warm and lively contrast of the ballroom on the other side of the doorway. When I didn’t see anyone else in the hall, I was tempted to go back out merely due to the ominous silence sending a wicked chill down my spine. But I willed myself to carefully and quietly shut the door behind me and ventured further down the hall.

I recalled Miguel’s training, and Spider-Noir’s advice when he popped in for a quick visit yesterday when Miguel asked him to provide some insight. Hug the wall, always check your corners. Don’t move unless you know for sure you can proceed to your target. So that’s what I did.

I followed his advice, hugging the wall and peering around the corner once I reached the end of the hall. The cost was clear. No guards in sight, much less security cameras. Odd.

Don’t overthink it. It’s not getting easier. Don’t get overconfident.

I reached into my pants pocket, pulling out a spare smoke grenade. I crouched down, pressing the trigger button before gently rolling the grenade across the floor. A soft hiss echoed from the grenade as the familiar pink, glittering smoke covered the hall. When it dispersed, I quickly realized why there weren’t any guards.

Lasers.

Not a bad trick, King Pin. I was almost impressed. He had that much confidence that no one would be stupid enough to follow him out here?

Correction; That stupid someone was me.

After making sure my smoke grenade didn’t alert anyone to come snooping around, I stepped out of my hiding spot at the corner of the hall. I studied the layout of the lasers, mapping out a route in my head. I jumped, sticking my hands and feet to the ceiling and started to crawl.

I maneuvered my way down the hall, occasionally parkouring to other sides of the walls and floor to avoid getting my uniform singed from the intense heat of the lasers. When I made it to the clearing, I jumped down to my feet, finding a switch as I flicked it with my finger and the laser grid slowly vanished.

Phew!

“I’ll take five, be right back,” A voice spoke up as a door opened.

Shit!

I pressed my back against the wall, glancing over to see a grunt walking towards me from the corner. Not King Pin or Harry, thank goodness for that. But I couldn’t exactly get compromised either.

I looked over to the door beside me, noticing that it appeared to be a broom closet. I peeked inside, making sure it was big enough for me to slip inside, and to potentially rope someone else in with me. I closed the door, but made sure to leave a small crack of an opening, allowing me to peek outside.

I listened for the grunt’s footsteps as he proceeded down the hall, passing by the door of the broom closest. He paused, pulling out his phone to shoot a text message before he glanced over to the wall, noticing the switch. The laser security switch.

“What the–?” He turned to look at the switch, noticing it was switched off. “Who shut it off–!”

I didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence as I pushed the door open, caught him with a web sling and yanked him inside the closest as the door swung shut after him. The small room was nearly pitch black as I gripped my arms around him, fighting to contain him as he tried to struggle out of my grasp.

“Hey, who the hell–!” He snarled.

I flexed my fingers, blobs of web fluid staining his body before I opened my mouth and quietly sang a soft melody.

“Ah, ah, aaaaah, ah ahhh, aaaahhhhhh~”

The webs glowed their golden hue and soon the grunts' struggles diminished as the pupils matched the webs glow. He passed out in my arms, falling asleep. I sighed in relief as the thundering flutter of my heart calmed down, the adrenaline of the moment subsiding.

“That was way too close. . .” I muttered softly as I carefully set the grunt down on the floor. “No hard feelings tough guy,”

I found a large paper towel roll, quickly adjusting the grunt’s head to place the roll under him so he could use it as a pillow. Once he was settled, I discreetly stepped out of the broom closet and shut the door behind me. I looked around the hall, and it appeared no one had heard the grunt’s sudden cry.

“I should cover my tracks,” I mumbled softly as I flicked the switch and the laser security grid turned back on.

If I needed somewhere to run and come back the way I came, I now knew where the switch was so I could quickly shut it off and make a speedy get-a-way. Maybe I could hang back and shoot some web fluid at it to turn it back on if there are some henchmen chasing me down later? Hypothetically speaking of course.

I proceed further into the hall, sneaking by the doorway the grunt had previously come out of to now draw attention to myself. When I made it to the end of the hall, I passed through the door and arrived in a grand foyer. It had the same architecture of the ballroom, more warmth in it than that asylum looking secret hallway I was just in.

Now, which way did they go? Up the stairs or through the grand oak wood doors on the other end of the room?

“Hey, you!”

I froze instantly. Shit!

I turned around to see three henchmen approach me. I was so focused on figuring out which direction King Pin may have taken Harry, I didn’t notice these guys guarding the room. If I make it out of this Miguel was going to kill me for letting my guard down. I had to think of something quick.

“What are you doing out here?” One of the guards questioned me. “All service workers for the gala are to remain at the event,”

“Oh, uh, my boss said that Mr. King Pin had requested drinks for him and some of his guests and, uh–” I tried to stay calm as my brain fumbled for an excuse, fiddling with my fingers behind my back. “Sent me to check what they wanted,”

“I haven’t heard anything like that from the boss,” The leader of the trio shook his head as he glanced at his partners. “Have ya’ll heard anything?”

They both shrugged, looking at each other in confusion.

Their leader gave me a hard stare as he pulled out a walkie talkie. My heart sank into my stomach, thankful that it wasn’t a weapon he brought out. “Mind if I call to confirm?”

A faint drop of sweat streaked down my forehead as I managed a polite smile. “Not at all,”

He nodded before he glanced over at his partners, motioning his head towards me. “Keep an eye on her, aight?”

The pair nodded as they stepped forward, circling me like hawks as they covered my flanks on either side of me. Their leader turned his back to me, the static of the walkie talkie going off as he pressed a button to activate it.

“Yo, Marco, can you check with Antonio if the boss requested drinks for his meeting? I got one of the servers here saying she was sent to take an order for the boss,”

I couldn’t pick up the full sentence that came out of the radio and it’s horrendous frequency, but I at least picked up the phrase, One second. That bought me some time, although I had no idea how long.

The four of us stood around in awkward silence. Although from their perspective, I was certainly the awkward one. I kept telling myself I was just playing an act. The role of an innocent bystander just trying to do their job and not wanting to cause any trouble. I repeated that story over and over again in my mind to try and calm my nerves as I could feel my palms start to sweat.

The walkie talkie went off again, the static sparking through the speaker as a response came out.

“Say again?” The leader of the henchmen asked for clarification.

The static went off and I could feel the gaze on me coming from the two flanking henchmen hardening. More sweat dripped down my forehead. The jig was up.

“We didn’t hear anything about the boss wanting– AH!” As the leader of the henchmen was turning to further prove his claim, I flexed my hand out, shooting a ball of web fluid into his face.

He recoiled, screaming as he fell to the floor. He frantically clawed at the web fluid, pulling the sticky substance off his face as his buddies squared up. My shoulders tensed as I shifted my gaze between the pair, waiting to see who would react first.

The one on my right moved in first, charging me. I swerved out of the way of the charge, my body spinning as I bashed my knee into his back. He bulldozed into his friend who took the brunt of the hit and they both collapsed to the floor, their skid marks staining the expensive red carpet

A snarl caught my ear as I turned, facing their leader who was at least free of the mess I threw at his face. He reached for his back again, whipping out a black baton. I could feel my knees start to buckle, but I didn’t budge.

Remember what Miguel taught you. It’s the brutes you’ve got to watch out for.

I quickly evaluate my options, glancing around us. I see an opening as he charges. I shoot two web slings upward and once they stick to my target, I pull on them hard with as much strength as I can muster. My arm and bicep muscles twitch and burn as I yank down the chandelier from the ceiling and it lands on top of the henchmen with a loud ‘CRASH’ as I leap out of the way of the debris.

When the smoke cleared from the impact and the glittering jewels on the lights stop shaking, the brute is alive and well, merely shaken up as he realizes that he’s trapped within the inside of the chandelier and is too big to squeeze past the iron bars. His walkie talkie is smashed as well.

“Sorry, like I said, got a job to do!” I chuckled softly, offering the brute a showful bow before taking off up the grand stairway to the second floor.

I had no idea if I was even going the right way, but I needed to put some distance between myself and that mess downstairs. But if others go looking for their friends, they’d tell them what I’d look like. Thankfully I’m packing more than one costume.

As I pushed open a doorway and continued running down the hall, I felt a sharp buzz in my head. My spider-sense. Something was wrong.

I could see it coming as someone whipped their arm out, attempting to neck slam me. But I fell to my knees, sliding across the floor and under the arm before my body sprang up and whipped around to meet my advisory.

A tall man chuckled darkly as he stepped in front of me. He wore a dark navy blue suit with a black button up dress shirt, had pale white skin on his hands but as far as his face goes, I could make out his brown eyes. The rest of his face was covered with a white metal mask.

“We meet again, Miss Lisa,” the man greeted me with a thick Russian accent.

“Do I know you?” I raised a brow at the man as I kept a good distance away from him.

The man shook his head and I could see the playful glimmer in his eyes through the mask as he fixed his cufflinks. “Surely you remember me? It’s me,” He spoke almost gently before his lips twitched and curled into a devilish smile, and his voice changed. “Mi vida,” - my dear

My jaw dropped to the floor. My heart dropped to my stomach as I felt like I was going to collapse right there and then. It was him. Not my Miguel.

“You!” I snarled, my teeth grinding as I squared my fingers into tight fists. “You’re the imposter that attacked me!”

He applauded me, the playful glimmer in his eyes never fading. “Very good, Lisa,” his voice shifted back into a Russian accent. “I take it by now you know who I am? Who I truly am?”

“You’re the Chameleon,” I glared at him, piercing daggers into his very soul.

“Please, after what we both went through together, I believe we’re on a first name basis now,” I could hear his grin from under the mask as he offered me a bow, “Call me Dmitri,”

“Like hell I will,” I growled. I fired a burst of web fluid, sticking his body to the nearby wall. “Stay away from me,”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Chameleon clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Don’t be so hasty now, I was just on my way to fetch you,”

I watched as Chameleon’s fingers glazed through my webs like they were nothing. Tearing them apart like they were paper and his fingers were as sharp as scissors. My eyes widened at the sight, taking a step back.

“I didn’t just duplicate Miguel’s voice, you know,” He purred, daring a step closer towards me.

I took another step back. Followed by a hard hit to the back of the head. I collapsed to the floor, my body screaming at me to stand as I zoned in and out of consciousness, black and white spots covering my vision. I struggled to push myself up right as I glanced over, seeing Chameleon take a few steps towards me, kneeling beside me.

He cupped my chin with his fingers, studying me with a sultry grin before glancing up at whoever knocked me down. “Take her to the boss,”

////////

Miguel’s P.O.V.

The gala was bustling with lively people as chatter and live music filled the space. Miguel adjusted his tie with one hand while with the other he held a sleek glass of champagne. He glanced over, his eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted Jessica wearing a beautiful glistening red dress that hugged her baby bump just right, with a fur coat overtop her shoulders.

Their eyes met briefly. They had to pretend they didn’t know each other for the sake of their cover. Miguel was reaching for his ear to effortlessly adjust his earpiece communicator when he heard Jessica’s voice.

“Hanging in there?”

Not through the earpiece, but through his mind.

Miguel’s hidden power as he called it. He wasn’t aware he possessed such an ability until started recruiting more Spiders into the Society. The ones he became relatively close with, or tolerated as he called it, somehow developed a psychic bond that allowed them to communicate telepathically if they were close enough.

So far he had developed this connection with Jessica, Peter B., and there was a brief flicker of a connection with Gwen when they were fighting the Vulture anomaly in her dimension just over a month ago. No one else has managed to connect to his bond, not even cute little Mayday Parker, much to his chagrin, although he’d never admit it to him.

How that mixed in with the DNA splicing, he had no idea, and didn’t have the time to properly look into it. This ability had saved his skin many times, so he figured if he could use it to his advantage, he wouldn’t budge on it. There were more important things at stake.

“Trying to,” He sighed deeply, taking a sip of the champagne to try and keep himself calm and distracted.

“She would have said she needed back up. You know this,” Jessica spoke through the bond with a calming tone while physically she was laughing at another guest's horrible joke as she mingled with a small group, meanwhile Miguel had to politely turn down multiple flirty advances on him. She was always the more social one between the pair. “Trust her to find Harry,”

Miguel’s fingers tightened their grip on the champagne glass ever so slightly. “I do trust her. I’m just. . . anxious. It’s been a while since her last message,”

“I believe the phrase the youngsters use nowadays is ‘hot minute’, though it’s actually been about 10 minutes or so, give or take,” Peter B.’s voice suddenly filled the space of Miguel’s mind, and the Spider-Society leader willed himself not to snarl in annoyance.

“Peter. . .”

Of course he would hear us and chime in. Well. . . it would be more discreet than the communicators.

“Cat’s not out of the bag yet. King Pin’s goons haven’t stormed the joint. Until we hear back from her, all we can do is wait. Maybe we’ll find something else of use while we’re here,” Peter B. reasoned before it sounded like he was stuffing his face at the buffet table. Again. “Use that big brain of yours, Miguel!”

Miguel rolled his eyes before venturing elsewhere in the crowd, glancing over towards the stage as the audience applauded the band as they wrapped up their current song and adjusted for a new set.

If she needed me, she’d call.

She’d call.

////////

Lisa’s P.O.V.

"Boss, we caught this one lurking around,"

I could feel myself coming to again. My vision cleared and I found myself in a secluded room, on my knees with rope tightly knotted, keeping my wrists tied together and pressed to my lower back. My disguise was gone and I was stuck wearing my spider-suit. Two henchmen were at either side of me, and out of the corner of my eye I could make out Chameleon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at me.

But my focus wasn’t on him. It was on the two most powerful men in the room.

King Pin was a large man with an intimidating stare. He gripped his cane tightly as he lounged on his luxurious sofa chair. Beside him, Harry Osborne stood up from his seat, hands stuffed into his suit pockets as he stared at me down.

Now that I got an actual good look at him, Harry looked to be about the same age as Miguel, late twenties, early thirties, maybe a tad older than him by a year or so. I couldn’t deny it, Harry Osborn was quite handsome, like a cross between Chris Hemsworth and Robbie Amell. In a villainous billionaire sort of way.

In between us was a small table with an open briefcase. Inside the briefcase I could just barely catch what looked like to be metal collars? They were a sleek gunmetal gray with green fluorescent glowing lights.

I could see the look on Harry’s face as he studied me. Recognition. His lips curled into a smile. “Lisa Kendrick, at last we finally meet face to face. Although I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,”

“Harry,” I uttered his name, growling in greeting.

"She one of the other Spider's you were talkin about?" King Pin looks over at Harry, a stern yet intriguing look on his face.

“The very same,” Harry mused with a nod of his head.

“She made a mess in your foyer, King Pin,” Chameleon shook his head like he was disciplining a child. “Ruined a perfectly good chandelier,”

“Eh, I’ve seen prettier,” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to nudge the henchmen away from me but they gripped my shoulders tightly with their fingers. “What’s your endgame, Harry? Why are you siding with scum like King Pin?”

“If I told you that, then that would ruin the surprise, now would it?” Harry leaned forward, his wicked grin sending a chill down my spine.

“If you’re here, then I assume more of your other spider friends are lurking around in my manor as well?” King Pin surmised as he tilted his head, lighting a cigar.

I didn’t give him an answer.

"It would appear I have been made," Harry sighs as he pulls something out from his pocket. "As much as I want to bring you in now, the stage is not set quite yet, my dear, at least not my stage,"

It’s not until he starts walking towards me when I notice what he’s holding in his hand. A syringe. The pointy end of it flashed in the low lighting of the room as I tried to shuffle back, but the guards kept me still as the CEO of Oscorp came before me.

“Get your hands off me!” I growled.

Miguel warned me. He warned me that something like this would happen and I still insisted on doing this. Have you forgotten already that Harry could still be seeking you out for your powers?

“Now, now, I’m not going to hurt you, Spider-Muse,” Harry chuckled as he knelt beside me, his fingers gripping and brushing the neck sleeve of my spider-suit down to expose my neck.

Harry injected the syringe into the crock of my neck, forcing a blood sample from me. I felt the prick of the needle and hissed as the tiny metal tip pulled out from my body. I recoiled out of his touch, baring my teeth at him.

"I'll have need of you later,” Harry spoke as he stood back up to his feet, handing the syringe to Chameleon who put the medical device in a case, locking it. Harry glanced over towards King Pin. “In the meantime, I'll leave her in your capable hands. Feel free to use my gifts as a token of our partnership,"

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Osborne,” King Pin chuckled as he blew a whiff of his cigar, the dark smoke fluttering in the air.

“What are you talking about?” I sent an accusing glare towards Harry.

He ignored my question as his gaze briefly went to the contents inside the briefcase before he gave me a wink. He motioned over to Chameleon. “Let’s move along, Dmitri, we’re done here,”

He’s not going to. . . use that thing on me is he?!

Harry pressed a button on his watch and I watched in awe as his own inter-dimensional portal appeared. This one was blue and purple compared to the orange and red contrast of the portals used by the Spider-Society.

“See you later, Prekrasnyy,” Chameleon snickered. - Lovely

“Until we meet again,” Harry waved at me before he and Chameleon stepped through the portal and disappeared from the room, from this dimension.

The portal closed and within seconds, King Pin snapped his thick fingers, grinning at me. “Prep her,” He commanded.

The next thing I knew, I got smacked into the back of my head again. Darkness quickly followed.

////////

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