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leebrontide · 8 months

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Secondhand Origin Stories, chapter 5

Here's this week's chapter!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 5

It was hard for Jamie to think about Issac and the flash drive she’d just helped him get back when Opal was in Jamie’s own house. She was so happy the MARTIN system let them up. It would have been humiliating if Opal hadn’t passed the security clearances to get up here after Jamie’d impulsively invited her in.

Jamie owed Opal breakfast, at the least. But what would be good enough? What kind of breakfast did you make someone who had just tried to save your life? Especially when that person was brave and classy and also pretty? Jamie felt a bit at a loss. “Do you like eggs?” she asked. And, because Opal’d already complimented the courtyard before Issac barged in, she added, “There’s a table right over there. We could eat in here, if you want. I can make whatever kind of eggs you want. Let me just put all this down--” OK, so there might have to be some tutorial searches depending on what Opal ordered-- but how hard could cooking an egg get? Jamie could work it out.

Opal’s smile was bright as the sunrise. As if she was lucky to be here.

Drew's door opened, distracting Jamie momentarily. Drew stopped, startled, holding a garbage bag. Which was weird-- he should have been notified when someone came up. Come to think of it, it was weird nobody’d come out to see what was going on by now. Issac obviously hadn’t been reacting to a notification.

But if anything, Opal smiled brighter when Drew showed up. Ah. She was a fan of the team. Drew smiled back, with a little confusion. “Hi. What’s going on?”

Yael answered. “This is Opal. We met her downstairs this morning. She just got in from Detroit. She tried to save Jamie from me.” Drew gave xyr a quizzical look. “Misunderstanding. My bad,” Yael added, embarrassed. “Anyways, we promised her breakfast for helping out.”

Jamie could tell something was off by Drew’s face, but he still said, “Nice to meet you,” as he leaned back into his own apartment, to do something-- Jamie couldn’t see what, like switching a light on. “Martin, let everybody know we have a guest.”

What?

Drew came forward, and offered Opal a handshake with his non-garbage-bag hand. “Always good to meet somebody from my hometown.” Opal looked like she might explode from excitement. Well, she shimmered like Drew. And Drew had helped save everybody from the Detroit line. Probably he’d saved one of Opal’s parents. Opal didn’t look old enough for him to have saved her.

Dad’s door opened from behind Jamie with a bang that made them all jump. Suddenly, after three days missing, there he was.

Mom had said he was recovering from catching Issac, but that didn’t account for what Jamie was seeing. His eyes were bloodshot and piercing. He held himself stiff and looming, with his jaw clenched tight. He walked slowly, as if carefully measuring the space of each step. Opal stepped back away from him. His voice was like gravel. “Who is this.”

Who was Opal? Who was this gigantic stranger with her dad’s face?

Solomon and Mom showed up from their own doorways, looking more confused and alarmed than Jamie could explain. Thank G-d, Mom was dressed now, although Jamie noticed she kept her hands curled in loose fists, hiding her nails. Opal’s smile was gone-- she was suddenly surrounded by what, to her, were hostile-looking strangers. No, no. Jamie’d brought her up to thank her, not make her feel uncomfortable.

Drew stepped forward, and he didn’t look like there was a problem anymore. “Nothing to worry about, I just didn’t want anybody to get caught by surprise that we have a guest.” He looked at Opal conspiratorially. “Solomon wears his Sesame Street pajamas around sometimes. I wouldn’t want to embarrass him.”

Mom and Solomon took their cues from Drew, at least. Solomon leaned against his doorway, relaxing. “I’m not ashamed of my Super Grover pajamas.” Opal smiled again. Better.

“I was gonna make eggs,” Jamie added.

Drew addressed Jamie and Yael. “Hey, I think Melissa needs to talk to you two. Don’t worry, I’ll cook something up for your guest. My place is all put back together.”

Opal was obviously thrilled by that. Somehow, though, Jamie’s heart sank. She ignored it. Opal was happy with this outcome, and that was the important thing. Of course she’d rather eat with a superhero than with Jamie. Who could blame her?

Mom, Yael and Solomon all managed a friendly smile and goodbye, with Dad giving a more subdued, mumbled approximation. Jamie managed an awkward smile and a little wave around her salvaged armload, which Opal returned, looking giddy.

Drew's door closed with a little click, the rules about behaving in front of strangers lifted. But before anyone could even start a lecture, Yael made a beeline right for Dad. Opal being altered, with likely super hearing, xe kept it to a whisper. But Yael had a pretty loud whisper. “Neil-- what on Earth have you been doing? Issac’s been waiting for you. Do you have any idea what he must be thinking by now?”

Jamie startled at her dad’s next words. “Fuck off, kid.”

What?

Yael recoiled. Solomon bristled, warning in his voice. “Neil.” If it wasn’t for their reactions, she would have thought she’d misheard him. Dad swore sometimes, but never at any of the kids.

Dad made a face-- it might have been apologetic, but it might just have been a grimace. If Jamie hadn’t been watching him so closely, she would have missed the way he was swaying slightly on his feet. What on earth was wrong with him? Jamie looked at her mom. Mom had said Dad was recovering from catching Issac. Her lips were thin with disapproval, but she didn’t look confused. Was this connected to that? It couldn’t be. Dad was just too tough for that explanation to work.

She wondered how Opal would describe what she’d seen. Would she tell the world that LodeStar was a drunk? He kind of maybe looked drunk? But it was 6 AM, and Jamie wasn’t actually sure what hangovers looked like. Jamie felt a pang of guilt-- she knew nobody wanted to be seen today. She’d just been thinking about how Mom was in hideout mode. But Jamie couldn’t just ignore what Opal had done.

The tense moment started to stretch into something even more uncomfortable, so Jamie chipped in carefully with, “Issac’s up and moving around again.” Dad started to turn towards her, but stopped short of actually looking for her, and looked at the door again. “You just missed him.”

He blinked slowly, several times. “He’s still using that shit tablet for translation, right? I’ll go start him some contacts printing in the lab. Mel, get started on the other damn thing.”

Jamie looked curiously at her mom.

That was Mom’s lecture face. What? Why?

As Dad got on the elevator, he added, “Solomon, bring her bag to your place? Your sensors are working, and I don’t want to dig through some girl’s bag. That should cover it.”

As the elevator door shut, his words sunk in. “Sensors are working?”

Solomon gathered up Opal’s luggage while Mom shooed them towards Solomon and Yael's apartment.

Jamie and Yael got herded to the couch, Jamie still holding Jenna's things. Yael slouched beside her. Solomon perched on the arm of the couch, parking Opal’s bag by the fireplace, but not otherwise bothering it. Mom paced in front of them for a few moments, hands together, the edges of her fingers pressed against her lips in thought. Jamie’s mind wandered back to Opal. Of all the times for her family to fail completely at being the charming TV interview versions of themselves, it had to be when Opal got here. Jamie sighed to herself.

Mom’s voice was even, careful. “We need…to be focused on security right now.”

“What was Dad talking about, with the sensors?”

Mom took a deep breath. “Something happened to the sensors the day of the attack. We’re still trying to get them all back to operational.”

Jamie added it up in an instant. Issac had taken the sensors down. And they were still partially down? She couldn’t help the challenge rising in her voice, and most of her didn’t even want to. “You mean we’ve been here without security for days and nobody even told us that?”

Mom had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “We didn’t want to worry you kids any more than we had to. And the APB has stepped up their security, and the team are all still here. As long as you don’t go sneaking strangers into the house or leave without telling anyone, it’s fine. I just can’t believe you two thought it was a good idea to approach some altered you’ve never met and then bring them into the house! And now, of all times. Jamie! We were just talking about how we don’t know anything about the motivation behind the attack!” Mom finished, exasperated.

Jamie put down her armfuls of Jenna’s things. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yael looking reluctantly chastened. But Jamie refused to let this be misrepresented. “How am I supposed to not worry about things when you might be hiding faulty security systems from us?”

Yael interrupted. “And we weren’t sneaking! We didn’t know you weren’t getting security alerts!”

Mom shot back with, “And I suppose you didn’t know you weren’t supposed to be in Jenna’s apartment that morning? I don’t know what’s gotten into you kids--”

Solomon’s door opened, and Dad was there. He didn’t come in; he just stood there, blocking the light from the courtyard. With both her parents finally there and almost listening, she rushed out the words they had refused to hear before.

“It’s the same thing! Secretary Bridgewater's visit and not telling us about the MARTIN system. You expect us to just sit here, totally clueless, while everything goes on around us! Even when it’s got to do with us!”

Mom cut her off. “I expect you to trust us to keep you safe. You know that has always been our top priority. And we can’t--”

Jamie was surprised to find she was standing. “You can’t do that if we don’t cooperate! And we can’t cooperate if you don’t tell us what’s actually going on!” The tears were out now, and her voice was cracking and awful and way too emotional to be taken seriously. This wasn’t how she wanted to be heard, but she couldn’t afford to stop now. She was running out of time. Her face was burning, but more importantly, she was upset enough that her chest was getting tight. “Can you really expect me to trust you to keep us safe with what happened to Issac? We’re not safe. None of us have ever been safe. And I can handle that, even if you can’t face it.”

That did her in. She wasn’t out of words, but she was out of breath to say them with. The air she could get wheezed through her, not enough for what she needed. And with that, her momentum crumbled. All they’d had to do was wait, and let her own frailty silence her. Mom didn’t even have to refute Jamie; her lungs were on her parents’ side. Her body would always remind them that Jamie was frail. That she needed protecting. Jamie looked down to dig her inhaler out of her pants pocket, then sat.

Dad came slowly into the room. Muscles still tight, jaw still clenched. He loomed in front of Jamie. Jamie clenched her own jaw as she took a deep inhale of the steroids she needed. His bloodshot eyes landed on Jamie, and for once, she had his full, undivided attention. His voice was still gravelly, but quieter. “Jamie. What did you do when you saw the jet?” he demanded.

“I tried to get Issac to get away from the window,” she wheezed, as defiantly as she could wheeze.

“You went towards him, didn’t you?” He looked at Yael. “Didn’t she?” Jamie and Yael nodded. Did he expect her to be sorry for that? He couldn’t possibly.

He turned his back to her, looking at Mom. Jamie noticed now that he had something clutched in one of his hands-- she couldn’t make out what it was. “Mel, I know we said we’d wait till she was older.” Jamie wanted to ask what they were waiting for, but talking was still hard. “But she’s right. We can’t expect her to trust our security, now. Not with how we all failed Issac.” Jamie noticed Yael slouch down at that last part.

Mom stood up. “That is not going to help her in case of terrorists with a jet!”

“But it would be damn useful, in case she runs into more altereds we don’t know. Or if they show up in our damn courtyard. You try to tell me you never snuck out when you were sixteen.”

Jamie flushed again. “I didn’t sneak out! And stop talking about me like I’m not here,” she rasped at her dad’s back.

Solomon spoke up for the first time. “She has a good head on her shoulders. I’d trust her with it. Besides, it shouldn’t all fall on Yael.” He glanced at Jamie, realizing he’d just done exactly what Jamie’d said not to do. “Sorry.”

Jamie shrugged her shoulders in aggravation.

With Dad’s back to her, she couldn’t see the silent communications between Mom and Dad. A glimmer of grim humor crept into Dad’s voice. “Can’t punish her for our genes.”

Mom stepped around Dad, and when he offered his hand, she carefully took the whatever-it-was from him with an exasperated, grudging noise. “Ugh, Fine. But go lay down. You look awful. God knows what that altered girl is going to tell everyone.” Dad stepped aside, looming silently. Jamie still couldn’t get a read on him. It was really annoying.

Mom knelt down carefully in front of Jamie, with the thing in her hand. Yael gasped. “Is that Jenna’s Bion gauntlet?”

It was. It was Jenna’s dart gauntlet. Mom held it out to Jamie. It was scuffed, but Bion’s logo was still gleaming. She looked at Jamie, studying her face seriously. “I’m only putting up with this because for sixteen years, you’ve proven that you’re constitutionally incapable of not running straight at any and every problem you see. Which is is our fault, either through nature or nurture.” Solomon snorted, but Mom ignored him. “I know you’re tired of being sheltered, and I know you want to help. But honey, you’re not superpowered and your enemies are. Please, if something goes wrong, I want you to use this and then I want you to run away. OK? It’s only tranquilizer darts. You won’t hurt anyone.”

A weapon. A superhero’s weapon. For Jamie.

She’d had it wrong. She’d had her parents’ attitudes towards her all wrong! Her mouth dropped open in shock.

Everyone was staring at her. Yael seemed out-and-out jealous, though xyr wrist would never fit in Jenna’s gauntlet. Even Issac, gangly as he was, wouldn’t fit. But Jamie could wear this. She could have something of Jenna’s, better than any of the keepsakes she’d salvaged.

Jamie held up her inhaler and tried a wry smile. “I’m not actually very good at running.”

Mom’s eyes drifted to the inhaler with a weary dismay. She put the gauntlet in Jamie’s other hand, then patted her knee. “Then power-walk. Do whatever you can to be safe.”

“I’d rather be useful than safe.”

Mom sighed. “I know.”

* * *

Capricorn’s apartment was more comfortable-looking than Opal had expected. It was huge, with tall ceilings and an amazing, glittering view of the city skyline, but otherwise it felt like a normal person’s home. A slightly saggy tan leather sectional sofa pointed at a TV screen more up-to-date than the one she’d seen in the wreckage. Beige carpet on the floor. White walls. A jacket flung over a dining chair. A souped-up bike leaning against the wall. There was a big aquarium, with algae done up to look like an elaborate landscape; tiny silvery fish darted through its sky. The scale was unusual, and the material all looked like it was of top quality, but it felt like a place where someone actually lived. Judging by the katana hanging above the TV, someone kind of nerdy. She found herself breathing a little more comfortably. This felt more like reality than the rest of Chicago had, so far. Much as she loved the grandeur and elegance of that amazing greenhouse courtyard, a little pocket of almost-normal felt good right now.

“Sausage and flapjacks OK?”

She refocused on her host. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” He gestured to a blond wooden table and chairs, and she sat as he headed into the kitchen. He was silent for a few minutes, digging through the fridge. Opal took the chance to focus on the fact that she was in Capricorn’s house. He was making her breakfast. Mom was gonna kill her. She’d always had such a crush on Capricorn.

He wasn’t anyone Opal would ever have a crush on, but he was a black, gay superhero, and she felt as giddy about him as she would a crush. He’d been a beacon for her her whole life. He was the hero of the whole Detroit line. Everyone else in the first generation of the Detroit line had been kidnapped, forced into experimentation by a rogue biologist trying to create a system for mass-produced alteration. Even though people had tried it all over the world, and it didn’t work. When you messed with genes without customizing your alterations to the genes the person already had, you just caused more problems. Most people died. Opal guessed that particular evil scientist must have gotten closer than most, given how many did survive, but still-- a ton of people died.

Capricorn was the only one who’d gone in deliberately. He’d risked the alteration, and used his new superpowers to save everybody else. What could possibly be more superheroic than that?

His voice was easy when he piped up from where he was, his head in the fridge. “So. What brings a fellow Detroit altered to Sentinel Plaza so early in the morning?”

“Well, first a train. Then a bus. I still haven’t made it to my cousin’s place yet.”

He gave an amused huff. “Well, Ms.--?”

“Flynn.”

“Flynn?” He straightened up. “Bet you’re Nick Flynn’s girl, then.”

Opal was touched. She knew her dad’s “trial” had gotten a lot of press, but it was a long time ago, now. It was good to know a hero like Capricorn remembered. She nodded.

He nodded back, opening a package of sausages and starting up the burner. “Staying long?”

Opal licked her lips. Was there something implied in his question? It felt like there was an answer he was expecting. “Maybe. It depends.”

“On?” He threw a couple sausages onto the pan. Yeah, he was definitely expecting some particular answer.

“Work, mostly. I’ve got a basic job lined up, with my cousin, but…” This time he made a general listening sound, but didn’t say anything else. Waiting for her to elaborate, and say what he was expecting. She let the silence stretch a little longer, but broke eventually. “I was hoping to book an appointment to try out for the Sentinels, actually. Since you’ve been down by one for a while now.”

Her heart was in her throat. She’d only been in the city like an hour, and already almost got shot trying to accomplish this. She felt isolated and over her head enough, she had to keep moving forward. He sighed, and she realized that actually had been the answer he was expecting. He poked a sausage with a fork, then turned to her, leaning his hip on his kitchen counter. “Mm-hmm.” He crossed his arms. “Thought I detected that on you.” His eyes were uncomfortably penetrating. Evaluating. “I’ve seen ones like you before. Sometimes. Sol was one, actually. Long time ago. You got stars in your eyes.”

Her return smile was crooked. “I don’t mind being compared to Helix.”

“He did try to conquer South Dakota that one time.”

“I…hope that’s not the time you’re talking about him acting like me?”

“Mm. Your dad looked like that on the stand. I remember that.”

She flinched, but tried not to show it. “I take after him. But I’m trying to get clearance before I run around saving people.”

“You really tried to fight Yael?”

“I thought she was Ezekiel! Scared the life out of me.”

He laughed, but it was the kind of laugh you gave when you were laughing at something horrible so you didn’t get crushed by it. Then he leaned his hands on the counter, and hung his head for just a second before coming back up. “OK, Ms Flynn. I’m not going to try to argue with you. I’m just gonna say what I need to say so I can tell myself later I did. Fair?”

“Uh. Fine?”

“Teams hardly ever accept anyone who hasn’t already proven themselves. And I haven’t heard anything about you before.”

“I know. But--”

“But you don’t want to risk getting arrested for vigilantism or supervillainy if the bureau decides not to back your actions.”

“Yeah. And--”

“And, you’re taking the sane route, asking for a team to back your application to the bureau, using the system that technically exists but has only ever been successfully used four times since it was set up. Three of those times under previous leadership.” He turned back to the pan, poking the sausage. “But you know damn well that that APB has hardly cleared anyone who isn’t white since before you can probably remember. You know that there is not a single currently active black woman superhero in the US. And the ones we had before, well.” He put the sausage on a plate, and looked back at her. “They were all a lot lighter than you, with good hair and college degrees.” He gave her a genuinely sorry look. “I’m sorry. I hate it, but that’s how it is right now.”

Capricorn himself was light. Opal was not. Auntie had told her to get her hair done before coming. Maybe Opal should have listened. Keeping it super short just seemed better, tactically.

He ambled over slowly and put the plate in front of her. “You knew all that already, right?” She looked, but didn’t see anything hard or condemning, or even dismissive about him.

She took a second to find her voice. It shook, but just barely, and the tone was good. “With respect, sir. That’s kind of why I’m here.”

“And I bet you’ve been planning this since you were a little kid.”

“Yes, sir.” As far back as she could remember. Since the first time her daddy showed her Capricorn on TV, and explained to her that they were like that. Like him.

“Tell me you got a clean record.”

“Not so much as a late library book, and I’ve never had any social media accounts.” In the face of what she was willing to risk to be a hero, the isolation, the loneliness of not being able to go to the parties, laugh at the memes…all the things she’d missed in her life until now…it hardly seemed worth thinking about. She tried not to think about it.

He huffed a small laugh, then sat down in the chair next to her with a sigh. He studied her; she met his eyes. His dropped to the plate. “I forgot the pancakes.” He sat back. “Think I’m going senile.”

He ran a hand over his face, then looked at her. “I can’t promise you shit. Bridgewater makes the ultimate decisions about who has clearance and who doesn’t. And he hates me. The feeling is mutual.” Opal sat up straighter, her spine unknotting itself. “But the team’s all right, and the closest thing I’ve got to family. Mostly they hate Bridgewater as much as I do, but we’ve got some pull. Melissa’s got political pull I can’t even wrap my head all the way around. And she loves girl supers.”

He shrugged, hands up. “I’ll get you a shot. That’s all I can do. I don’t know if you’re even any good, but I’ll make sure you get a chance. If you can get the team on your side, you stand a chance.”

Opal knew she was glowing as she looked at him. He stood up. “I mean. It’s a chance to get shot at and called names on TV, and you’ll probably end up dying horribly or something. But if that’s what you’re into--”

“That is what I’m into!” Opal assured. “Besides, I already almost got shot today.”

For all his tough talk, this dismayed him. “How’s that?”

“There was a little bit of confusion about me trying to help Jamie. Yael and some APB guards thought I was attacking her.”

The look he gave Opal instantly made her feel less alone. It was the same look you’d give if you’d heard your neighbor’s kid got into it with the police. Which meant Opal had read the situation correctly. “You OK?”

“Yes sir, Yael figured it out and they spoke up for me.”

“If Yael thought you were a danger to Jamie, you’re lucky to still be in one piece.”

“Truthfully, the guns bothered me a lot more.”

He ran his hand over his face again. “Your family know you’re out here?”

“They support me. They know it’s all I ever wanted to do.”

He nodded. “Pretty dedicated to getting a chance to get shot at and called names on television.”

“With respect, sir. I’m pretty tough.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” She strained to hear any sarcasm in his voice, but didn’t find a shred of it. “Eat up, first. I’ll do the pancakes.”

By the time breakfast was over, Opal felt revived. And more than that, she felt excited. Here she was, brand new to the area, and she’d already met the Sentinels, and got a promise of a tryout. She tried to push the scary parts out of her mind. Being threatened was an inherent part of being a superhero. She’d known that.

After breakfast, he told the ceiling to tell the others Opal would be auditioning.

He brought her down a floor via the big fancy elevator, and across to a huge, vaulted-ceiling training room. Unlike the botanical paradise of the courtyard, this was a room that saw hard use. The wood floors were scuffed, there were discarded water bottles here and there, and over the smell of various soaps, it still smelled like sweat. There were all sorts of machines that looked vaguely like weightlifting machines she’d seen, that she imagined had to be custom-made versions capable of giving even Sentinels a workout.

“Remember,” Capricorn said. “I can’t promise you anything--”

“I’m not asking for a free pass, sir. Just a chance.”

The others showed up faster than she’d expected.

All the Sentinels, plus Yael and the red-haired woman from before, filtered in. Opal tried to use hair, noses, and interactions to piece together a complicated constellation of a family. LodeStar was last-- a little less foreboding, but still not someone Opal was excited to get within grabbing distance of. What was with him? At least seeing him and the red-haired woman together, she could figure out where Jamie and Issac came from. And Helix…was Yael’s dad? Probably? That seemed to make sense. But she’d never heard of Helix raising a kid. And how would Helix and Ezekiel even have…Never mind. Not her business.

She’d known better than to expect them to be like they were on TV. She’d expected a family in pain, and in normal clothes. But it was like 7 AM. Was LodeStar drunk? He didn’t seem too steady on his feet. Opal’d seen angry drunks before, and that was as close a match as she could think of. But it took a lot to make an altered drunk. And if he was drunk, why was he down here? Didn’t this count as work?

Yael bolted forward with a grin before any of the adults could say anything. “You didn’t tell me you wanted a tryout! I would have helped!”

Opal smiled at Yael's Labrador-esque enthusiasm. “I hadn’t actually expected to audition today. Or…actually, I hadn’t expected to even meet anyone today, or I would have worn something less…casual.” She looked around Yael, addressing the team. “I do have a suit and everything. I didn’t mean to show up in sweatpants.”

Neil frowned. He did not seem to want Opal in his house. “And we didn’t expect to audition anyone, today. That’s not really how this works. You’re supposed to prove yourself before being considered.”

Which was exactly the sentence Opal had been afraid of. She looked at Capricorn, but Yael was the one who answered, crossing massive arms over her chest. “So how am I supposed to do that? It’s not as if you’ll let me join you on missions before I get approval.”

Opal’s hope bloomed again as Jamie’s mom raised one wry eyebrow and Helix looked very quietly pleased. So really, her biggest detractor seemed to solidly be LodeStar.

Just the apparently terrifying leader of the Sentinels. No biggie.

LodeStar was unmoved by Yael's bid. He addressed Opal with tight, formal politeness. “I’m sorry, but this just isn’t a good time. Maybe Drew can write you a recommendation letter. Get you a meeting with another team.”

A quiet voice came from nowhere. “You could at least let her try.” Opal leaned, and realized that Jamie the watercolor girl was here too. Opal hadn’t noticed her amidst all the bigger bodies in the room.

Capricorn looked at LodeStar seriously. “Don’t make me look like a liar, man. I told her she could try.”

LodeStar's jaw tightened. He gathered himself. “Yael?”

“Yes?”

“Five point bout. Just as an initial screening.”

She saw Capricorn grimace, and his comment about Opal being lucky to be in one piece reverberated through the back of her mind. But never mind that! She was here, and she had her chance, and somehow she’d even managed to rally a few allies! This felt like destiny. She surged with an energy that felt indestructible.

The padded helmet and gloves Yael and Jamie found her were the smallest ones they had, and they were both too big. They were from when Yael was “a little kid.” So, Opal assumed, when Yael was about five years old.

Once they were actually in the boxing ring, it sunk in that Opal was supposed to fight the largest person she’d ever seen in her life. In front of an audience. And her entire future was hanging in the balance.

Opal had never hit anyone before. She knew how to make a fist without breaking her thumb, and she’d seen fights, but she herself hadn’t ever hit anybody. She couldn’t, not while keeping her record pristine. Yael looked completely comfortable and at home in a wide-legged, fist-up posture, and had an eager grin that suddenly made Opal very nervous.

Opal mimicked the pose as well as she could, but on her it felt awkward, stiff.

She’d made a mistake. She wasn’t even sure where or when, but she’d made a mistake.

Yael's grin dropped off long enough for her to clearly mouth the word “focus” at Opal. And that helped. She still had allies. Yael wasn’t going to actually pound Opal into the floor.

LodeStar called the start. Opal had barely braced herself to try to think of a first move when Yael lunged forward. Yael threw a punch, and Opal moved to protect her head instinctively.

Opal’s feet were swept out from under her, and the arms that had swung up to protect her head flung out, trying to find balance again.

For the second time today, an unstoppable force hit her square in the chest. Already disconnected from the ground, Opal went flying.

Her body and her dreams crashed to the ground with identically thunderous bangs.

It hurt. It hurt down past her ribs. Right up into her soul. Her face was cut; she’d left a streak of her blood on the mat. The air had been shoved out of her lungs, and she struggled to refill them. To un-collapse herself.

There was complete silence as she pushed herself back up. She looked to her judges.

LodeStar was unmoved, cynically vindicated. Jamie’s mother was biting her lip, flinching visibly. Helix looked pained. Capricorn looked disappointed, sad. She’d let him down. Let everybody down.

The only one with a different look was Jamie. Her hands were tangled in the hem of her shirt, gripping tight. She was still watching, still hoping and waiting for Opal to turn it around. Right. Opal wouldn’t give up after a single hit!

“I’m sorry. I was-- please, let me try again.”

LodeStar nodded, with a small gesture for her to go back where she’d started. Standing hurt, but being a superhero was supposed to be hard.

She stood in front of Yael again, and now Yael looked worried. She looked over to her family, reluctant. She didn’t want to hurt Opal. But Helix nodded at her, and she dropped into her stance again. Instincts older and more primal than hopes and dreams flared up, telling Opal to get away from this mountain of a human being before she got hurt. Opal ground her feet into the mat, trying to mimic the pose again. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Opal narrowed her focus, stretched her shoulders back. No holding back. She had to give this absolutely everything she had!

She was going to go in there, hard and fast as possible. She had super reflexes, after all. And adrenaline was singing in her veins.

LodeStar barked his start command.

A kick to her stomach tore her grounded feet off the mat without hesitation. Opal hadn’t accomplished anything.

She landed hard again. More blood on the mat. She wasn’t even sure where it’d come from.

She shoved herself back up, half-empty lungs and screaming joints be damned.

She didn’t wait for permission. She stalked back to her place again. She ignored how desperate Yael looked to get out of this. Yael was kind, but knew Opal couldn’t succeed, couldn’t win if Yael didn’t give her a real fight. Opal had to win fairly.

Opal’s vision blurred, and she ignored it, except to blink and clear the tears out of her eyes so she could see right. She didn’t know if the others could see it, but Yael could.

Another start command.

Another crash to the mat.

LodeStar didn’t wait for her to get up this time. “Halt! God, enough.” He looked at Opal. “Look, Ms. Flynn, you did your best. But I think we’ve seen enough.”

And like that, it was over. All her dreams, dead within hours of arriving in Chicago.

Opal’s throat worked for a second, struggling against panic, grief, humiliation. “But--”

Jamie’s mom interrupted gently, but offered no argument. “You’re more than welcome to talk to the other teams. Some of them might be in a better place to provide training than we are right now. I’m sorry. But we can’t offer you a position.”

They were all watching her. All disappointed in her. Jamie looked crushed.

Facing them, there was no helping the tears on her face, or her skin lighting up like a 21-gun funeral salute for her dreams. She tried to keep her lips from trembling too obviously. Tried to salvage what dignity she could, as her voice shook. “Thank you for the opportunity to try. I’m very honored to have met you all.”

Opal stripped off the training gear as quickly as she could, as they all watched her silently. She didn’t look back as she left.

* * *

Yael just wanted to help someone. Just help someone without any guns, or crushed dreams, or illegal nano-tech getting involved. Why was xe so bad at that?

Neil sighed. “Well, that was awkward as hell.”

Drew looked at to the door. “Poor kid. Hope one of the other teams pick her up. She’s got drive.”

Papa shook his head sadly. “But no skill.”

Drew rarely snapped at anyone, but his voice curdled with some frustrated emotion. “Well, not like she’ll have had any training. She can’t just sign up at the local dojo as an altered.”

Yael started pulling off xyr own gear, more slowly. Melissa sounded resigned. “A month ago, I would have at least wanted to talk about trying her out on a training regime. She seems so driven.”

Neil snapped, “Now is not the time to go auditioning new family members.”

Melissa glared. “That’s exactly what I just said. Don’t get snippy with me.”

No training? That hadn’t even entered Yael’s brain. Well, then of course she didn’t stand a chance! Yael’d been training for this forever. Naturally, someone half a meter smaller and with no training wouldn’t be able to hold their own against xyr. It hadn’t been a fair fight.

Yael’d crushed Opal’s dreams in an unfair fight. Xe had to fix this. But the team had just said they wouldn’t train Opal.

“I could train her,” Yael realized out loud. They turned to look at xyr. “And…she’s a native ASL speaker. She said so, earlier. We could do a trade-- a lesson trade.”

Jamie took to the idea immediately. “Do you think she’d let me join you? I don’t think I have anything to barter--”

Yael raised an eyebrow. “But you have money.”

Jamie blinked, pulling up a tablet to look up cost information.

Melissa flicked her palms towards the ceiling, exasperated. “We’ll hire a professional tutor if we decide we need one. You two do remember we were just talking about bringing home strangers into a compromised tower.”

Jamie started to head towards the door. She waved a sleeve-covered forearm in the air. “I’m covered!” Yael hadn’t realized Jamie was wearing Jenna’s gauntlet inside the house.

Apparently, Melissa and Neil were not pleased by this. Jamie got stopped on her way to the door, but when Yael took a careful step towards it, Papa deliberately looked the other way, giving tacit permission. Yael grinned and sprinted after Opal.

Xe grabbed Opal’s forgotten luggage from xyr apartment before heading out.

A quick scan of the crowd of morning commuters outside revealed a bright pink hoodie with roses on it at about the right height, a good block away. Yael ran after her, carrying the bag above the crowd. People scattered to get out of the way.

Yael waited until xe was close enough not to have to shout. “Opal.”

She startled, whipping around defensively, tensing. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face wet. Yael stopped short, still a couple meters away. “Uhm.” Xe held out the rolling bag. “You forgot this.”

Oh, now Yael had just embarrassed her. Opal closed her eyes for a second, then straightened. Her voice still shook like it wanted to sob. “Thank you.” She held her hands out, and Yael approached, handing the bag over. Her chin was quivering, her whole face on the verge of crumpling, her skin glittering miserable yellows and greens.

It was too much like what Issac was likely to be facing now. “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Opal sniffed quietly, taking custody of her bag. She studied Yael with a critical eye. But Yael's intentions were good. Opal shook her head slightly. “I don’t have anyplace private here yet.” She looked down, fingers running over her luggage handle. “Not sure I’m even gonna unpack, now.”

Yael looked around-- there was an alley nearby. Xe nodded to it with an awkward smile. “For just a quick moment?”

Another critical look. Again, she decided to trust Yael, and nodded, rolling her luggage towards the alley. Yael went in as far as xe could stand to-- it reeked of garbage and compost. Opal stayed on the side of the alley by the exit, waiting. Her wariness was overshadowed by her continued attempts to not start crying again. It was another fight she was losing.

Yael kept xyr voice low, private. “Will you trade me, in lessons? Signing for fighting? Jamie wants lessons too, but obviously, she’s no fighter. She has some money, though.”

Opal stared at xyr. She hesitated, but Yael could see a seed of hope starting to take root. She bit her lip. “I feel like I have to point out, I’ve never taught ASL before. I just grew up with it.”

Yael shrugged. “And I’ve never taught fighting before. So, that seems fair.”

Opal sniffed again, her shoulders relaxing. “I-- really?” Yael nodded. “Thanks. This is incredibly nice of you.”

Yael's smile weakened. “My brother’s…very…practical. And even faster to learn languages than Jamie or me. This is the best thing I can think to do to show him my support. If I can help another superhero-to-be in the process, even better.”

Opal smiled back, slowly, but honestly. Yael liked her more and more. “Superhero-to-be, huh? You seem a lot more convinced of that than your folks.”

Yael tried to look confident. “You’re brave enough, selfless enough, and driven enough. And I bet you’re strong enough. How much can you lift, anyways?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, but answered. “About…1,155 pounds at my last checkup.”

About what Drew could lift, then, which made sense. He was older, but she was smaller. “There, see? Absolutely strong enough. You just need training.”

The last of the suspicion melted away. “Seriously? Just like that? And you really think they’ll let me try again if I learn to fight better.” She could trust Yael, even after this morning, after she’d seen a long-dead killer in Yael's face. It was more of a relief than it should have been.

Yael shrugged. “I don’t see why not. And if not the Sentinels, they know every other US-based team. You couldn’t ask for a better networking opportunity. But all of them will need you to know at least a little bit about fighting. It’s not like the old days, anymore.”

Opal raised a thin eyebrow at the last comment, but she definitely felt better. Bright white teeth flashed the widest, realest smile Yael had seen in days, joy overshadowing anything else. “Well…thank you.”

A few more embarrassingly heartfelt but really gratifying thanks, and Opal was on her way, looking far less weighed down than she had been. At least xe’d been able to help someone.

* * *

The door opened on a room that was more Issac’s home than his own bedroom. Before he could even squint his way into a proper view, he could smell metal, ozone, sterilizing agents, all the little smells that went into printing the machinery they made. This was the lab. It was home. For a second he stopped squinting and closed his eyes. He let some muscles in his shoulders and hands relax. This was the first time since he’d woken up that he’d been able to get them to do so.

He stepped off the elevator, half in a trance. It was-- he opened his eyes-- it was exactly as he’d left it.

Which was all wrong, but exactly what he should have expected. This was a space for innovation and work, and change was as integral to this place as tides to the ocean. These tides were much slower, now that Jenna wasn’t there at all hours tinkering, but they were there all the same. Issac and his mom kept them moving.

Before he’d even gotten a solid look around the room, he noticed something else. The floor was vibrating. His clothes were vibrating. He tensed again, breath catching. The last time he’d felt a floor vibrate, he’d fallen--

He looked out the windows, willing his eyes to adjust so he could see past the blaring light. He couldn’t see well, but there was no sign of another big, black jet.

Maybe the floor had always done that. Maybe it was just a byproduct of all the machinery in the place. Even the old microfabricators he’d had to work with as a kid had had built-in vibration stabilization. They’d be worthless otherwise. Maybe he’d just never noticed it before.

The floor continued not to collapse under him. The white blurs outside the window continued not to turn into black aircraft. Weirdly, once he’d mostly assured himself the vibrations weren’t another sign of attack, they were strangely…soothing.

Movement at the corner of his vision caught his attention.

It was Dad, at the far end of the huge, bright room, sitting on a bench and half-crouched in a bizarre pose. He sat in the corner, frozen mid-gesture, watching Issac warily. What the hell? What was he even doing down here?

Issac watched, expecting his dad to say something. But he didn’t. Dad straightened, looking at the table next to him, away from Issac. Whatever he was looking at was obscured from Issac's view by two other tables of stuff in the way.

That stung. A lot. Was this really how this was going to play out? Three days of ignoring Issac, and now this? Was he really not even going to come over here? A lump in Issac's throat made it hard to breathe. Issac tried to focus on being pissed off. This wasn’t Dad’s space. He didn’t belong here.

Issac turned away from the door, hobbling stiffly to his own workstation. He kept his back to his dad. Panicky desperation started to set in. All this over Issac’s missing audio input?

He didn’t want to think about it. He had work to focus on. He hesitated, flash drive clutched in his hand, hand hidden in his pocket. Could he work on this here? He’d kept it in Jenna's space before for good reason. He even had Martin erase the data from his memory after every session they worked on it together. What would his dad do if he knew Issac was working on the same tech the APB had been here complaining about? Issac liked to think his parents would understand. Dad had offered himself up as a lab rat to the government when he was barely older than Issac, and Mom was the one who’d helped Jenna install her first super-prosthetics, way back in the day. They knew the value of experimental tech. But he couldn’t be completely sure what they’d do, now that the APB had gone and made a big deal out of it.

Would Dad think Issac was still capable of finishing his project? If he didn’t, would he leave Issac to flounder through it, or take it away?

What the hell was that vibration?

Text on his tablet caught his attention, scrolling past. His reading speed seemed to be improving, anyway.

MARTIN: Issac, I need you to turn the rest of my sensors back on. It’s been days. You’ve set parameters you know I can’t independently alter. I’m not as able to upgrade or fix myself as you think I am.

He had to read the sentence several times over to understand it. His memory of the day he fell was a little garbled. He did remember this morning, being angry at Martin for telling him not to cry over being afraid he was un-fixable. Martin couldn’t cry-- didn’t have eyes or tear ducts-- but maybe he could be scared by being broken.

MARTIN: Your mother keeps sending technicians from downstairs to try to fix me. I’m afraid they’re going to get too deep into my code. I know you’re upset. I want to be patient but please I

The words abruptly vanished.

DAD: Issac?

Issac’s head snapped up fast enough to make him instantly regret the motion. Nerves up and down his torso shrieked in protest. His eyes snapped shut at the feeling. He opened them again, hesitantly, wondering if he looked guilty or just stupid for startling at printed words.

Dad looked…terrible. Issac wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his dad with bloodshot eyes before. Was he sweating? Issac fought an urge to lean back away from him. This must have really rattled him.

He seemed to be waiting, expecting something from Issac. Issac looked back down at his tablet, but there weren’t any new words on it. Dad nudged a small box towards him on the worktop.

OK…Issac picked it up. Once it was in his hands, he recognized it as a contact lens case. He opened it, and there was a clear fluid inside. He assumed that there were contacts floating in the ooze somewhere. Dad’s hand reappeared, setting a bracelet on the table. Of course. These would be translation lenses.

Display contacts. They’d bombed in the commercial market, but technically, Mom’s company still made some…for translation.

This was good. This was a genuinely useful gift. Except that reading made his head hurt, and he had no idea how to get them on. The first problem should fix itself in time. The second should be a matter of simple practice. Dad didn’t offer to help, though. He just watched Issac carefully.

Issac nodded minutely, but put the contacts down, hoping Dad wouldn’t ask why. Dad nodded back, clearly not wanting to have this conversation. They stared at each other, and Issac found himself aware of his bruises, stubble, and various odors again.

DAD: How are you doing?

A direct but extremely open-ended question. What could he say to that? Given Dad’s reluctance to even have this conversation, what would be safest? He decided immediately that he couldn’t admit to worrying about his brain. He shouldn’t, anyway. Martin had said so. Just after that, he realized he didn’t want to talk about his hearing loss. And he could hardly tell Dad that he was worried about Martin.

That was when it hit him, what the weird vibrations were. Bass. Dad was blaring his own music in the lab-- he always liked his music really loud. No wonder this vibration felt familiar. Issac’d probably been hearing these old baselines since he was in utero. That was why they felt calming. Dad’s shitty mid-90s alt rock.

What a stupid thing to miss. He didn’t even like this garbage, but the lump was back in his throat. The noise producing those vibrations had always been a sign that dad was nearby. Jenna was the only person who tolerated him playing this shit so loud. She’d let him crank it up whenever he was down here hanging out, or getting his bionics fixed or tweaked. Issac had helped-- that was his inroad to all the work that’d come after it.

That was years ago, though. Dad got his maintenance done at the bureau, now.

Issac had to play it cool. If he couldn’t help seeming damaged, at least he could try to look like he was taking things well, and he wasn’t about to admit to missing vintage pseudo-punk. He decided a physical complaint was the safest. He almost spoke this time, but decided to stick with typing, rather than put his likely screwed-up voice out in the open. My leg hurts, but less than yesterday. I didn’t have to take anything for it.

Dad almost seemed surprised by the coherency of that answer, but he nodded.

DAD: Make sure not to let the swelling get out of hand. Your mom will get rid of any leftover pain pills when you’re sure you’re done with them. Give them to her.

Issac nodded. Dad looked like he desperately wanted to leave this interaction.

They stared at each other. Issac’s frustration dialed up. His dad clearly had nothing to say to him. Didn’t apparently know how to even talk to Issac, now.

Issac had shared a chess board with his dad and a basketball court with Yael. He was actually pretty used to being unable to keep up. But he was used to being unable to catch up with altereds. Not…normal people. Apparently, LodeStar didn’t know how to deal with having a son this damaged. This different from himself.

Issac hadn’t wanted to know what it would take to make his dad see him as too broken to be relatable. If he’d had had to guess, though, he would have put the bar a lot higher than hearing loss.

His vision started to blur again, and crying in front of his dad wouldn’t help him look any more functional.

Issac snapped up the contacts. Shoved them into his other pocket. He avoided looking at his dad, and moved to leave the room. An unyielding metal hand grabbed his arm, and Issac shuddered, sucking in a sharp breath of pain as it hit bruises and jarred deeper tissue. The grip wasn’t tight, but it caught Issac mid-step, utterly, effortlessly immobilizing his arm.

Issac twisted-- making every fiber and bone of his back scream in protest-- to glare at Dad, who let Issac’s wrist go with the same superhuman reflex speed he’d used to grab it. He drew his hand back, as if Issac's frailty might be contagious. Issac knew his dad hadn’t meant to hurt him, but he hadn’t meant not to hard enough, had he?

Dad’s miscalculation earned Issac clear passage out of the lab.

#SHOSweekly

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timelessish · 7 years

Photo

[text: “I didn’t know where else to go.”] source: mine

Keenler Week Day 1: why I love them/the moment they became my OTP

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

So, some backstory first: this is a show I only saw bits and pieces of on TV during season one but what I saw intrigued me. I remember seeing the Judge, Ivan, and Mako Tanido episodes in their entirety with my parents (they were hooked on the show during its first season) and being enthralled. The scenes I remember most from watching live were the Liz/Tom shower scene with blood on his hands (so sick but so compelling) and the Tom/Jolene scene while the song Jolene is played. That song just got to me, and I remember thinking, “Oh my god, this is perfect.” So that summer when The Blacklist got put on Netflix, I watched the full first season and loved it. I’d really never loved a procedural so much (or at all) before. I think it was a mix of the Liz/Red connection, Red’s mystery past, the Tom intrigue, creepy Apple Man, Liz being a badass, rootable-for heroine, and the unique, crazy Blacklisters in each episode that drew me in. I could and have watched season one over and over again without growing tired.

As for Keenler: while watching the show originally, shipping wasn’t on my mind. I just loved the story and plotting that was going on. I loved Tom’s story season one and all the second-guessing that went on between him and Liz, the questions of his connections to Red, Gina, and Victor Fokin, and just his being an awesome villain/spy/double agent. I loved his and Liz’s dynamic portraying the illusion of a perfect, happy marriage, but I loved it even more when it came shattering down around them. I thought Tom’s story season one was resolved perfectly with his death by Liz’s hands, and I was so thrilled to have writers who weren’t afraid to kill their darlings when it was time. Though I was more saddened by Meera’s death, I was more shocked by Tom’s. He’d had more of a main role, so I thought it was such a brave move by the writers and it reaffirmed my love of the show.

… but little did I know, the writers weren’t actually that brave. I rolled my eyes and sighed at the “Tom’s alive!!” reveal in season 2. I wasn’t surprised, but it did made me think a little less of the show. I think all the questions surrounding Tom could have been better answered after his death, because at this point, the answers haven’t been satisfactorily explained to me, and I still have so many questions. So while I loved their dynamic season one, I didn’t ship them, giving me no problem jumping onto the Keenler ship once they reeled me in.

Honestly, I saw something there from episode one. “Who the hell is Elizabeth Keen?” is such an iconic line, and it sets up so much of the story. Just who is Elizabeth Keen? Lizzie, Liz, Masha Rostova; adoptee, daughter, wife, profiler, agent, criminal, killer, fugitive, asset, mother, survivor. Her story keeps unfolding and I don’t think we’re done figuring her out yet. But beyond that, just who is she to Donald Ressler, and who will she become?

Then he shows up at her doorstep with helicopters and an army of SUVs. I mean. That’s such an amazing first meeting. You really can’t top that. Also, okay, the cinematography of the Pilot is just incredible. The way the focus shifts to Ressler watching Liz as she speaks to Cooper? That shot of him watching her, framed by golden light? It’s absolutely stunning and you can’t convince me that wasn’t the show setting the basis for a power couple. And the Pilot also gave us Ressler breaking the rules for Liz for the first time when he let her see Red in his hospital room, though it’s certainly not the last time he breaks the rules for her. It becomes such a recurring theme for him: he always follows the rules, except when it comes to Liz.

The tense banter Liz and Ress share in the next few episodes is amazing. It’s a dance of learning to trust each other and work together despite their misgivings, and I love every bit of it. There’s that shot of them squaring off after he busted in with the Canadian police to Red’s dinner with Liz, which pisses her off, and the way the camera circles around them and the way they play off each other there is insane. Can I just say: HOLY CHEMISTRY. HOLY SEXUAL TENSION.

Then comes the Stewmaker (my favorite episode of all time) and that infamous hug. Seeing that was my first, “… hmm.” I saw something there between them from the beginning, but this was the first moment I really felt it.

A highlight from the Courier: “That was hot.” “You know he can hear you, right?“ When Meera says that (oh, how I miss Meera!), Liz gives her this great side-eye and I’ll be honest, my first thought was - is someone a little jealous? Also there’s a lovely moment later when Liz asks Ressler about what he said about having nothing in the world, recognizing that on some level, he did mean it despite his denial. In that moment, she sees his vulnerability like he saw hers post-Stewmaker, and she knows not to push him, but I think she sees a bit of herself in him - in putting up a facade against the world to hide insecurities and loss. The way she described herself as being called a bitch, the way Ressler gets called an ass. There’s more alike there than there is different.

So they’re finally getting past their rocky start when Sam dies and then Anslo Garrick happens. Liz is such a brave badass, fighting instead of running away until she gets caught and brought to the box where Red and Ressler are. Her face and Ressler’s kill me there. Her expression, so sad and scared but determined, shaking her head no, don’t do it, don’t give him the code. Him in clear physical pain and indecision as Cooper tells him no. Agent Ressler, no. That’s an order. and all the while Red has a gun in his face. And Ressler gives up the code.

That’s a pivotal moment. I don’t think he gives up the code because he’s afraid of dying. I think it’s because he’s afraid of Liz dying. The Agent Ressler who’d been presented to us before would have followed his commanding officer’s orders. He would have followed protocol and protected the asset no matter the personal cost. He’s a by-the-book guy, not an emotional decision-maker. And with the career he chose, you have to figure he’s not afraid of dying in the line of duty. So he’s okay with his own death, but when it comes down to it, not Liz’s.

On top of everything, the code is Romeo. Liz loves Shakespeare, as stated by Aram at her funeral. Romeo and Juliet is a tragic romance. The connotation of Romeo in that moment draws the possibility of romance between Liz and Ress.

To go on a side tangent here, you could choose to find more connections. Romeo (Ressler) is enamored with Rosalind (Audrey), though she isn’t interested (left him), until he meets Juliet (Liz), who’s engaged (married) to Paris (Tom), who was chosen for her by her parents (inserted into her life by Red/Berlin). Romeo and Juliet fall in love but can’t be together. They get separated (she shoots the AG and goes on the run with Red) and Juliet, with the help of the Friar (Mr. Kaplan), fakes her death (she does this twice: once in Arioch Cain, once in Mr. Solomon: Conclusion). Romeo doesn’t receive the message that Juliet is actually alive (this fits slightly more for the Arioch Cain death, when all of the team was in on the plan except him), so he buys poison from the Apothecary (interestingly, they had a Blacklister by this name in the last episode) and travels back to see her body. Paris comes and they duel, Romeo killing him. Romeo then drinks the poison. When Juliet awakes, finding Romeo to be dead, she uses his dagger to kill herself. After their mutual deaths, there’s finally peace in Verona. Obviously, I don’t think all of these parallels are exact, but I do think that there are a lot of connections to be drawn between Shakespeare and the Blacklist. At any rate, it’s interesting to see some of the groundwork laid. Okay, end of side tangent.

Ressler and Liz keep growing stronger as partners and friends. He trusts her enough to talk about Audrey and Tassles, and she trusts him enough to talk about Tom. He offers to rough Tom up for her.

Another big moment: he chooses Liz over Audrey in Madeline Pratt. She’s distraught, saying she thinks Tom is going to leave her. Ressler is on his way out, but sits down at that. She tells him to leave. He says no, ditching his dinner date with Audrey, choosing to stay and be with her instead.

Then comes the Kingmaker, and this is the episode that did it for me. This is when I went … crap. I have an actual ship in this procedural crime show. First it was their moment on the bridge when he tells her it’s not over. The way they look at each other there, with the beautiful blue sky behind them… it’s breathtaking. And then he saves her life, killing the Kingmaker while he’s strangling her. I have a thing for Liz and Ress saving each other, okay? Don’t judge. And then comes the crowning moment (haha, Kingmaker, crown, get it?) : she shows up at his apartment. “I didn’t know where else to go.” No questions asked, he lets her in. For whatever reason, that’s when they got me. That wordless communication, those beautiful mooneyes. And then they cut the scene at the close of his door, which I both love and hate because yay, I get to come up with my own headcanons about what happened, but boo, I want to know what happened.

So. There’s that. And then the next day, they go to Liz’s house (now a crime scene) where she tells him, “I should have let you rough him up,” with this sad smile that he returns, and her body language is so relaxed around him in her home, where you’d think she’d feel more defensive and self-conscious. But there he is, standing in the ruins of her married life, and she seems okay with it. Alright with being vulnerable and real around him, and that’s what I love the most about them: when they can be wholly themselves with each other.

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

Anyways, that’s about all from season one that sums up the development of my Keenler ship. Sorry for the long post, it sort of got away from me! I’ll be back tomorrow with my Day 2 post :)

#keenlerweeks4 #keenler #elizabeth keen #donald ressler #the blacklist #myedit #mypost #mobile

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quowreadspact · 7 years

Text

Damages 2.2

I’d give three groups safe passage. Somehow, with the how of it to be negotiated when I’d done more research.

I am sooo unsure about this whole idea. I feel like this won’t end well. Also why limit it to three? Any reason?

She pointed the gun at me. I was so focused on the forces arrayed on the benches and around the edges of the room that it took me a moment to process what that meant. A slight pull on the trigger, and I was gone.

And the next chapter is the epilogue! Or we switch POV to someone else. The next heir. I forget who. I know that won’t happen but goddamn that would be such a twist.

I have help,” I said. “Help my grandmother left me.”

I could see her eyes studying me. Roving over my body, my clothes, and very pointed locations around me.

“Yes. A companion.”

“A vestige,” Laird said.

Vestige?

“Of Rose?” the North End Sorcerer asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Padraic spoke out loud, at the same Laird said, “I don’t think so.”

I guess they’d find out sooner than later. A vestige is interesting though. Rose I guess, was made from something left over. And she isn’t a vestige of Rose. At least not entirely. Maybe she is made of what many people left behind or something.

“…I’m making one more offer. An altered version of the deal I just gave you. I’m willing to do what I can to protect you against any of my grandmother’s demons that happen to run rampant, and I’d still give you free reign to come after me. I’ll protect an enemy, if my condition is met. Identify the person responsible for my cousin’s death. This deal, obviously, is off the table if you did it.”

Oh shit. Valuable information but that means he can never defend himself. Free reign is free reign. He worded it poorly.

“Well,” he said. “Let’s get this out of the way. Who’s interested in taking the deal?”

Wait. What?

“Not seeing any raised hands,” Laird said. “It’ll be good if we get this out of the way, before it gets messy.”

Negotiating here? Now? I’d hoped for more backstabbing, a little more chaos.

And I have no idea why you thought that. They all hate you Blake. They already made their tenuous alliance. Anyways any backstabbing wouldn't happen in public.

Laird drew in a deep breath, then told Maggie, “If it came down to it and Blake Thorburn sent something like that after my family, if I didn’t have measures in place, or if I didn’t feel my measures would hold, then I would use gun, knife, bludgeon, or whatever I had at my disposal to kill my family before that thing could reach them. Because I love my family too much to do otherwise.”

Jesus. So Barb + other demons do some bad shit. Wonder what the other demon’s Granny captured are. Are there others? It seems to imply so.

“It is,” Laird said. “Primarily for Mr. Thorburn, removing all possible leverage he might hold. I feel the risk to you if you take the deal is far smaller than if you don’t.”

“But it’s still a little trap for me. For us,” Maggie said. “And I’m betting that when all’s said and done, you come out ahead.”

“Yes. Alongside the Duchamps, in keeping with our alliance. But we’re all better off, Mr. Thorburn excepted, and he would be largely removed as a threat.”

Removed as a threat because one person could go after him with no fear? Yeah Blake not the smartest move. You better hope no one takes the deal.

“A bit too steep of a price, I suspect. You’re not paying attention to the context of this situation. We need to drain the marshes to let the city expand, which is something we require to further all of our interests, yours included.”

“I am paying attention. I don’t care,” the Briar Girl said. The spirit’s beak was partially open still by her ear, serrated with sawlike teeth. One of its large yellow eyes were fixated on Laird. “The city will expand all the same, but it will expand slower. More expensive for you. It’ll still get where you want it to get. When it does, I’ll have all those woods and marshes. One way or another.”

They are all so greedy. Also I don’t understand how it would expand if they couldn’t clear the swamp.

“My rose has done what she aimed to,” Padraic said. “You’ve offended two of us, Aimon Behaim. Johannes and me both.”

Yay Blake? Also interesting that Padraic considers Blake his. I don’t remember the reason for that if there is one.

You’ve wounded me, ignoring me in this critical moment. I have far more to lose than you, don’t I? An immortal lifespan, against, what, thirty more of your years? Twenty of your wife’s? Sixty two of one daughter’s, fifty one of another, one of a son’s life? Add them together for your family as they are now and you have, what?”

Oh. He knows how long everyone will live. Which son will only live one more year? Sad.

“One of Laird’s generations. Grandchildren, grand-nieces and nephews, and the children of his cousins.”

“That has the unfortunate consequence of ending his line.”

Padraic smiled. “I could return them, more or less in one piece. Let them age up to twenty or so, educate them. It would be novel, and if we kept some in reserve and staggered out when and how we returned them, we could amuse ourselves for hundreds of years.”

How would he use a whole generation of people? God this is so fucked up.

“Perhaps,” Sandra Duchamp said. “That would be dangerous for my family. I was thinking of maintaining some connection to the courts, in a peripheral manner.”

“Nonetheless, I’m pacified. I no longer feel slighted.”

“Then,” Sandra Duchamp said, “Thorburn’s offer remains open, I will know who accepts it, if anyone does. Let’s set that matter aside so we’re free to move on. The murder of Molly Walker?”

Damn. Blake didn’t accomplish much. But what is this about Molly? Is he gonna get some hints on who killed her anyways?

Laird responded without standing, “It’s largely under wraps. The investigation will hit a dead end on its own.”

Oh. Never mind. Lame. I’m sure we will find out eventually, not that it matters too much.

“Next order of business. I’m obligated to call it to a vote. Flagrant use of one’s practice in public, acting against the local powers. Maggie Holt.”

What did she do in public? Ugh I feel like I’m missing things.

Nobody else in the room raised their implements. Not even the woman who called the vote. What was the proper course of action if we didn’t have implements to raise? Raising our hands? Or were we not allowed to vote?

Maybe this will spark him to get his implement first.

“Something else we need to talk about,” I said, “Is this vestige thing. It’s the… second or third time I’ve heard it, and I’m pretty sure you referenced it, one of those times.”

“Talking to yourself, Mr. Thorburn?”

I wheeled around. Rather than stop, I kept walking backwards.

Good thing to discuss. But oh shit be careful. Also turning around to walk backgrounds is a funny mental image.

“Yes. You are,” Johnannes said. “I’m liking how quickly you’re picking this up. The language, turns of phrase used to redirect, to mislead. You’re talking to your companion, yes, but you’re not denying that you’re talking to yourself.”

He knew? Even Laird hadn’t made any obvious connections.

“You’ve been watching?” I asked.

“Yes. Everyone has, to some degree.”

Shouldn't be too hard to pick up, though I do wonder how they found out.

“If-” a voice started behind me. It cut off when I turned. Rose. “If the execution was only stayed today because of the promise he made, what’s stopping him from doing it next month?”

“A very good question, miss…?” Johannes let the question hang.

“I don’t know if I should answer that.”

“Miss Mirror. A good question,” Johannes said. “The obvious answer is that he won’t call for an execution if you’re useful to him. He can use the threat you pose as a distraction or a tool, apparently. He’s not worried, because he seems to think he has an answer to whatever you might send his way. How is that? How would he know what you have at your disposal and how to respond?”

But they don’t know her name? I guess they don’t know too much then. I like the name Miss Mirror. But yes best to stay useful. Sucks that they have to, it is very limiting.

I said, “That means I’d have to find his place. If I disposed of the safeguards and prevented him from erecting any more, he loses his bargaining chip.”

“That would be the natural conclusion,” Johannes said. “Getting into his place to do anything would be the real difficulty. His home is his demesnes, and any protections he has against demons, devils and infernal things might be supplemented with protection against the practitioner that might command them.”

That... sounds very difficult. Tread carefully. Poor Blake can’t do shit.

“If the danger is a vote of execution,” I said, “We could theoretically win over enough people that they couldn’t get the majority.”

“Do all members of the family count?” Rose asked. “There’s no way, if they do.”

“The senior member of each family unit gets one vote,” Johannes said. “All put together, that is three from the Duchamps, and four from the Behaims.”

“Seven,” I said.

“Myself, Maggie, The Briar Girl, Mara, Padraic, two Others, at a minimum,” Johannes said. “You might want more, in case any Others decide to vote against you. A slim chance, but you have one month.”

Honestly this almost sounds harder. Even if he can’t leave the house, maybe he can send messengers?

Oh. She was talking about what I’d brought up at the meeting. I’d been talking about Rose, but I’d let them think I was talking about something else. Something that could release the barber if I was hurt or killed.

Would fear work?

“I do,” I said. “I’m not really a fan of any option that works only after I get brutally murdered.”

Leading Johannes and Maggie to believe that there was a safeguard in place. But the truth was, I wasn’t a fan of that sort of option. Generally speaking.

Hey man why not. Make it easier for the next heir. It’d be funny.

“Good company?” Rose asked.

“You’re an Other,” Maggie said. “That place is like an Other’s amusement park. There, it’s like the old days, before the Seal of Solomon. Before humans were really able to fend for themselves.”

“This is sanctioned?” I asked. Hard to imagine there hadn’t been a vote against Johannes.

“No,” Maggie said. “What does it matter? The area is his. Purely his. The only person who gets a say is him.”

So Rose is considered an Other? Interesting. But ugh this is so weird Rose doesn’t LIKE what other Others do so it wouldn't be much of an amusement park for her.

“What do you want?” she asked.

I thought back to the oath I’d made while awakening. “Freedom, safety, I want to help my family, past, present and future. I want to help my… companion here.”

“Yeah?” Maggie asked. “Huh.”

“What do you want?” Rose asked.

“I can’t put it to words. I feel dumb if I say it out loud. But power helps everything. Knowledge is power. I want knowledge and power.”

Interesting. Maggie could make a good ally. Blake has plenty of info.

“That’s pushing the definition,” I said.

“So is Laird! You want my answer, on why he’d call me that? There you go.”

I frowned.

Why does it matter why she is a terrorist anyways. You have to be very careful with her either way.

“You’re leaving me hanging?” Maggie asked. “If I could say anything crude, I’d say it now. I… can’t even allude to it. Blue. You’re leaving me blue.”

“Sad?” Rose asked.

Wait why can’t they say crude things? Something about not lying? Anyways omg Rose are you sheltered or what.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she said. “Generally? No. I don’t think we’re okay at all. We’re probably going to die.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you okay? No. Am I okay? No.”

“Now you’re intentionally misunderstanding me,” I said. I added a quick, “I think.”

“I am. Are we okay as a pair? No. We aren’t.”

I mean, true. I don’t think Blake is ok in any sense of the word.

“Fit somewhere in the middle. A flawed simulacrum, or a ghost that left a deep enough impression in reality that you can use that impression as a mold. Memories, complex thought, they’re flexible. There’s a book on vestiges in the library. They’re interesting to work with because they can be altered. Strong enough that you can mold them, without them being too rigid.”

So this is what she is. Awful. I wonder what the limitations are. Blake read the damn book thanks.

But Vestiges were impermanent. Sand castles. Given time, given external pressures, they started to degrade. Over time, the degradation got worse, to the point that it took more and more effort and energy to keep them intact.

What was the power source that was driving her?

How much time did she have?

Yup here it is. Rose will fade away. She draws power from something granny left behind, so unless Blake figures out what it is and... I don’t know.. refreshes its energy she is so fucked.

“I’m here for a purpose, Blake,” Rose said. “And I’m only here for a little while. We need to figure out what that purpose is.”

“Fuck that,” I said. “I made a promise I’d help you. That doesn’t mean using you and throwing you away to fall apart.”

I guess she was made for a specific reason. Ah this is all so interesting I hope we aren’t left in the dark for too long.

“Tell me how this sounds. If you like the idea, we’re going to hit the books, and we’re going to make sure it won’t come back to bite us in the ass. Dear Mr. RCMP Officer, you should know that Laird Behaim was at a function at the church last night. He has admitted in earshot of several people that he knows something about who murdered Molly Walker and how.”

I like it. But won’t won’t Blake get accused of trying to reveal magical stuff to normal people? Or won’t Blake get questioned himself? I don’t think it will work.

“Kids,” Rose said. “Get the kids in that interrogation room somehow. They won’t be as savvy. They’ll let something slip.”

I thought of how the Behaim kids had done a poor job of concealing their fear and surprise.

“It’s dirty,” I said. I smiled some. “Dirty is good.”

Smart smart. Or stupid stupid. Hard to say. I don’t see how it could work, but if it could it’d be amazing.

#2.2 #damages 2.2 #pact #text

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survivingjapan · 7 years

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EPISODE 3 “Back On My Bullshit” Alex S.

Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that I am Back On My Bullshit and doing That https://youtu.be/VLVChQE7uY8

So last round, I almost died. Everyone had apparently decided that between me and Patrick, I was the one to go. I was the target and it wasn't like anyone was pushing for it, it was just that it was the idea settled upon. It took me 23 hours. 23 hours to basically get it through these thick skulls that I should NOT be going home. 23 hours to shove Patrick under a bus and save my own ass. And yet, with 1 hour left, another bitch got in the way. Kage, in all his pointless paranoia, decided to try to reflip the vote in the last hour. The FUCK? I had worked so hard on flipping it that it made NO sense for it to be flipped back, especially not in the last hour. I had convinced nearly everyone to save me, sans Tommy who had already voted and apparently Kage, and yet he tried to flip it. WHATTTT the fuck? So, I went into the one world chat like "lol Kage bye girl!" And he apparently went right back to everyone and said "jkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjkjk!" UGH. He's a sweet kid and I get the paranoia because I felt it all of yesterday, but c'mon... At the moment, I trust Jonathan a ton. He told me I was in danger and needed to push the idea despite me thinking everything was peachy. I also love Crow and Jaiden for working with Zack and seeing how that mess turned out LOL and now working with me. Crow was apparently really pushing for me to stay. A motherfucking KING. Sarah was also really nice about everything and helped me from the get-go. Linus is m'dad and Alex is pretty rad!! Ashley fell asleep oops. But I think her and I would be good together. And Richie was telling me the full truth the whole time which also woke me up to the idea that I was still in danger. Also Junior is really cool and adult-y. I think now that I had to work SO hard to save myself, I should be in a better position on my tribe because I've had so many conversations with so many people, and a lot of it was strategy. So I feel like people know where my head is at. Right now, though, my target is between Tommy and Kage. While I know Kage is a messy bitch, Tommy's won this game. That's insanely dangerous. And I know he voted early but girl.... he was the only one beside Kage and Patrick (who I was actively targeting)...

https://68.media.tumblr.com/9335ba85c23ae1f01a1348b1c31c3666/tumblr_n99wduhukv1sb2lomo1_500.png

Me and Brian

I apologize for not submitting a confessional round two. I definitely was in Omaha auditioning for American Idol and those bitches told me a deserved no after my voice cracked during auditions *starts to cry*. Literally my tribe is so supportive but I'm actually fine about it. It's kinda funny that they think I like wanna die because of it but I'm literally okay. I tried and failed and what matters is that I tried.

Sup Fuckerinos! First things first I'd like to apologize for not making a confessional episodes 1 or 2. I've been busy^tm. Also I'd like to thank the hosts for this opportunity! So recap I was placed on the heroes tribe with literally the entire Solomon hosting team, Johnny, and the Malaysians. So when we lost the first challenge an alliance was created consisting of me, Pippa, Andrew, Kendall, Drew, Alex, & Johnny. Mist was voted out 11-1 (and Mist voted for me :') kms) because literally everyone and their damn mother came to that conclusion with a little point in the right direction from our alliance. I'm not going to lie I'm kind of pissed that everyone wanted Mist when we had the opportunity to vote out someone who's more threatening like Drew, Steffen, or Andrew but if no one else is down to do it then I guess I can't do anything about that RIP Mist. Andrew wants to get out Kendall and/or Alex instead of Drew and I see where he's coming from but I think he's too trigger happy and I think he's failing to realize that there are and will be repercussions to the things he does. Including the backlash that he will feel from the other heroes even Pippa but I can't tell him anything because I obviously don't know anything. He's got such a fucking hard head but if he wants to be stubborn and reckless let him because I'm not going to let him ruin my redemption arc even if we are good friends. I'll write his name down and not think twice. I'll shed only one tear for what could've been but was ruined by his reckless ass. Also I have something with Steffen on the side so if worse ever comes to worse I have him and I really like Trace and Ruthie so maybe I could do something with that? Idk but besides Andrew I really like this tribe. Blood is going to start spilling soon so I hope these bitches brought their heels.

Okay so I'm seeing myself becoming a lot nastier in the last few days....maybe these villains are rubbing off on my obviously heroic personality?? Firstly, I can now see why people had issues with Tommy in Cutthroat now....he's so hard to talk to... I feel he means well as a person but I just have a gut feeling that he's lying to me a lot.... Like about how his vote was locked "too early"? Seems convenient that you mention this to people AFTER the votes are revealed and you're in the minority? And then threatening me with the possibility of drawing rocks if it were to go to 6-6-1? Seriously? It's insulting... As of now, I'm probably closest to Sarah, Brian, Jaiden, and Jonathan so if I can maintain those relationships and reach out to the Linus/Junior duo I feel confident I can hang with these villains!

Listen I know this is my first confessional and that's awful of me but like I haven't had anything to say until this moment. If This selfie scavenger hunt Comes down to the geopositional division of the tribes And whose sun sets first Imma lose it It will be a tantrum And you will all bear witness to what happens when moving stress has pushed a person to the very edge, and the last string snaps.

Well, we lost another immunity. I am thinking maybe we should go afterJonathan, who pretty much did NOTHING for this scavenger hunt. But honestly I aint going to speak my mind because it could get me killed. In a game with this many people my strategy for right now will be to lay low, just not too too low. Hopefully Sarah or Tommy will run the show. For now.

WELL we lost again and im pissed bc i dont feel comfortable with my position on this tribe i havent formed good relationships with anyone and that's how i play these games by making 1 on 1 relationships with people that keep me safe until i can make moves but ugh idk theres just no one here that i........connect with???

So I guess my name is going around... I mean I am literally sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor packing to move so I can't really help being a little inactive on the chatting side, but challenge wise I have done quite a bit for this tribe so far, and I am really people can see that. but I mean oh well.

HFDJKA;VHJDFKAL NOW I KNOW WHY THE FOUR OF THEM WANTED TO WORK TOGETHER FUCKING DREW ALEX KENDALL AND ISAAC WERE ALL IN MALAYSIA AND THEY DRAGGED ME AS THEIR FIFTH AND PIPPA AND ANDREW AS 6TH AND 7TH OML THEY GOTTA GO THIS IS LITERALLY THE PERFECT CASE TO TURN ON THEM. The only person I told I wanted Ruthie out was Andrew, but now I'm not even sure if I'd want to take Ruthie out this round because those four could be so threatening down the road, but I also have to keep in mind that those four all being from Malaysia is target enough when we all get together as heroes AND villains, so maybe I just take the safe route and go for Ruthie here, and then if we lose for the third time, that's when I pull everyone else into the fold and it can be everyone against the four of them to AT LEAST get Kendall and Alex out of here because they're too damn good. I'm trying to take out all the really good players early, but I also think there's a chance that'll make me oober vulnerable, so I'm not too sure what the plan is yet. I guess I'll just play it out for now and see what my closest people think. I'm definitely going to tell Dom, Trace and Steffen about the four of them all playing in Malaysia together. This is where my research gets me! FUCK YES!

Steffen is probably about to make a confessional about how I was moving 100000 miles a minute with everything I was throwing at him. Just be prepared LMAO

I hate this game. Every round, I think the game is going to simplify, but this villains tribe is a complete mess and I wouldn't be shocked if we lost the duel and had to go to yet another tribal council 24 hours from our current one. Apparently, the vote is between Ashley and Jonathan for being extra quiet this round. What scares me is that I have no reason to really vote either out. I'd much rather vote Tommy or Kage who I have no intention on working with in the future ever ever ever. I don't have a personal issue with either, I just don't see myself ever working with someone who tried to vote me out. It's not logical. But then again, nothing that's happened on this crusty ass tribe has been logical. Vote me out over Pat? Majority said so until I flipped it (with some help who really pushed the move over the edge). This round, I guess I want Ashley to go? But I don't want to draw lines. I'd rather Kage go in an easy vote and that's that. But it ain't happenin' and I really don't need my name circulating yet again. Here's to hoping I don't get idoled out or go via rocks... please...

BITCH the villains tribe is a fucking mess i cant stand it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this vote is fucking ridiculous again no one has a clear plan theres no way of getting anyone to tell you whats actually going down its all just second hand names being tossed out and its like.... driving me fucking crazy theres 24 people still in the game so im just trying to lay low which im sure thats what everyone else is trying to do and thats why no one is just outright saying who they're voting for and like i get it but i want to die!!??? it looks like either jonathan ashley or kage are going... jonathan is inactive i've only spoken 2 words to him and he hasnt done anything to help in the immunity challenges so its easiest to vote him out but i liked him when he called out kage for his bullshit in the tribe chat so that was fun ashley is pretty inactive too but she helped more in the scavenger hunt BUT shes also wicked connected to people in this game from past tumblr survivor games relationships she has played with a lot of people in this game and thats scary to let her stay around and utilize those relationships kage i dont think is a real option but just ashley being mad that he is one of the ones that has said her name but i'd be cool with that because we've talked a good amount but i can tell he's a messy player he caused a lot of last minute chaos at our first tribal and i feel like kage tommy and linus have something going on so id like to break that potential group up idk whats going to happen bc this tribe is a literal disaster if i had to guess i'd assume jonathan will be leaving tonight and idc who it is as long as im still here (although i do need alex to stay for sanity reasons) i just dont want a tie or to be in minority and with that i guess we'll see what actually happens ugh why the fuck did yall think i was a villain fuck you i want to be over there with the good bitches

God I keep half forgetting to make confessionals please don't hate me. I really do enjoy our tribe, winning challenges is great but I'm afraid that people are simply talking more than I am which is my fear. I'm around but not specifically talking with people. I hope the Early 30s know I'm working with them whole heartedly and don't try and back stab me. Other than that I'm living life and having fun.

I have a feeling that an idol is gonna come out and I love being messy, so voting for Kage was just so he can be #afraid that his name came up. And like lowkey a fucking Sapphire idol could show up so who knows what happens with that. I'm just trying to fuck some lives over though so IF THAT HAPPENS, then maybe I'll be the only vote to eliminate Kage? Lmao

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tGhgF8_Uxk third babes

#returnrevengeredemption #confessionals

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