#Bad news: The bats might be searching for the one behind a murder that they’re quickly realizing might be Court BS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enigmainvestigations · 3 years

Text

ENI Season 1 Finale (episodes 8 - 14)

AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Episode 8 - A New Client

The man on the ground before him was out cold. Edward knelt and checked the hitman’s jacket pockets and found a pack of Lucky’s, which he pocketed. Next, he checked the man’s pants pockets, but those turned up empty. He pivoted on his feet to check the condition of the hitman behind him, hovering his hand near the man’s nostrils. This one’s breath was faster than the first, and Edward figured he must be coming to. But he didn’t need to worry too much about that; they all looked too beaten up to be much of a threat. Edward rolled the man over to get to his jacket pockets, and, as he did, the man groaned under his breath. Stuffing a hand into the man’s jacket, he found a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned it -- it looked like a phone number -- and he pocketed it to keep it out of the rain. Checking the other pocket in his jacket, Edward heard the man groan again. He looked down and saw the young man’s eyes staring up at him.

Edward grinned as he continued to search him. “First time, huh?”

The man moaned in pain, and rolled over, his motions stiff and weak. Edward patted him down, checking for a firearm. The man attempted to push his arm away, but Edward swatted at his hand to stop him. “Oh, stop complaining. Let me let you in on a little secret, it hurts much more the second day. I’d take it slow if I were you.”

Moving up on his feet, Edward made his way down the alley to the third hitman, who was also beginning to stir on the ground. Checking him, he pulled out a photograph from the man’s jacket. It was a photo of Edward himself -- it looked like it was taken on his night out at the local bars. A small smile crossed his lips, and he pocketed the photo; the man didn’t seem to care, instead focusing all his attention on an attempt to stop the blood gushing from his nose. As he stood, Edward looked down at the men who were writhing in pain, one rigidly attempting to sit up.

“Well boys, you’re on his bad side now. I wish you luck,” he tilted his hat to them, a wide grin on his face as he turned to head out of the alley.

He traveled away from the area, taking a few side routes just in case they’d gotten to their feet and made the idiotic decision to try to kill him a second time. He knew better than to assume the Bat had moved on. He was sure the dark figure was watching him, following him from above like a stalking predator. Edward assumed the Bat had left to see what he would do in his absence. It was a test, something he did frequently to observe people’s behavior. He hated to admit it, it was an intelligent move. But Edward hadn’t touched any of the men’s money, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He could consider it payment for trying to take his life. However, that wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. If he’d done it, then the Bat would come after him once he was at a safe distance from the alley. That was still a possibility even now though, and his eyes scanned the rooftops around him as he walked and listened to his surroundings for any motion.

Edward hoped Batman wouldn’t reappear -- that whole encounter had been quite jarring and confusing. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Batman would show up, let alone assist him. His mind kept trying to figure out why the vigilante had entered the fray. The logical answer was that it was because Edward was a civilian now, a citizen that had a hit out on him, and the Bat did what he always does in that situation. But that concept felt too simple, too foreign for him to accept. So, his mind continued to speculate what Batman’s play could’ve been.

He had to admit, it was quite frightening to see the man in action from a different perspective. The spine-chilling tales that surrounded Batman made more sense now. He could only imagine what that encounter must’ve been like from the perspective of a regular citizen. Edward had always seen Batman as a foe -- not quite an equal, but close. The fear he instilled in others had always been something he’d considered the woes of lesser men. But now, the chess pieces had moved, and they were both playing on a different board. Perhaps that was it: he was one of the lesser men now, a regular citizen that needed a phantom to swoop in to save him. Edward felt a wave of emotion hit him abruptly; the sensation of not belonging once again invaded his mind. He tried to keep himself focused on his route rather than waste the time letting it control his thoughts.

Edward couldn’t use the underground shortcut to return -- it was too risky with Batman tailing him. Instead, he opted to make the trip as boring as possible, especially now that he was too far for the men to follow. It made his walk longer, but he needed the time to think over the stark amount of new information he’d acquired.

Two of the hitmen had been young and inexperienced. The man he’d crossed paths with in the loading alley appeared just as surprised to see Edward as Edward was to see him. The thing about young and inexperienced hitmen is they’re cheap, and easy to find in Gotham. Ignorant boys trying to make some quick cash, though any real criminal in the city wouldn’t waste their time on them. Those two facts boded well for him. He was dealing with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and surely this wouldn’t be the only mistake they made. Whoever they were, the need to hire hitmen showed they were afraid, and fear makes people do stupid things. Stupid things like tilting their hands too much, letting information slip, or jumping out into the open in an illogical attempt to hide. It was a human trait Edward had preyed on frequently during his criminal career, an easy emotion to exploit under the right circumstances.

However, what he hadn’t expected was that whoever this culprit was would take the drastic action of trying to kill him. Nothing in the evidence pointed to such behavior being a predictable reaction. To the culprit it was only a bunch of empty buildings, and he couldn’t fathom what payoff could be involved that would be worth murder. Then again, they were playing a dangerous game and were clearly out of their league. Edward poking his nose around might have been just enough to scare them into making such a silly mistake. Though, he doubted they knew very much about him, or they wouldn’t have been so foolish. Nor would they have made the classic mistake criminals did regularly in this city.

They didn’t hire one hitman, they’d hired three -- the logical fallacy that greater numbers mean a greater possible outcome of success. It was a mistake many in the underground made with the Bat. One guy with a gun couldn’t stop him, so get twenty guys with more guns and the plan will be successful. No one ever considered the obvious: the guns didn’t work, no matter how many you added to the scenario. The more men you used simply meant you wasted more money. It was a mistake he’d never made when dealing with Batman, and it was one of the first riddles about the man he’d solved.

Though, Edward wasn’t very happy about having a hit out on him. He was sick and tired of people trying to kill him, and the fact that he’d have to spend even more time looking over his shoulder just made him feel drained. As he crossed the bridge to the south island he checked his watch; it was three in the morning. Much later than he’d intended to be out, but it didn’t appear that anyone had seen him out and about -- anyone other than the Bat, that is. He could only hope Batman wouldn’t pull some passive-aggressive move and tip off some officer to his activities this evening. By the time he’d unlocked his office door, he was beginning to feel very exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he might not even have to drink tonight to get his mind to quiet down.

He was correct in that belief, and he didn’t have to lay on the couch for very long before sleep took him. His rest was deep, and by the time he was awoken by the ringing of the phone the next morning, he had impressions on his skin from the cushions on the couch. In a haze, he pulled the phone down beside him, picked up the handset, and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

“Isn’t this late for your check-in call, officer?” he muttered into the phone.

There was a short pause on the line, “Excuse me?” Edward could hear quite a lot of noise through the phone, and the voice wasn’t officer Blue 334. “I’m sorry, is this Edward Nigma’s residence?”

Edward yawned, fumbling with his glasses on the floor beside him, “Yeah? Who is this?”

“This is officer Wilkes, I’m --”

“Ahh, Wilkes the snitch. How’re you this fine morning, Wilkes?” Edward propped his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair as he continued to wake.

“I-I’m fine?” He seemed confused by the question, but he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his professional demeanor. “Mr. Nigma, I’m calling you on behalf of the Commissioner --”

“Is that right?” Edward interrupted.

“...Yes, he would like to speak with you, it concerns a case he’s investigating --”

Edward let out a groan of annoyance.

“-- he would like for you to come to his office this evening.” Wilkes finished, a slight twinge of irritation in his tone.

“This evening?” Edward asked through another yawn.

“Yes, he’s very busy, but he can work you in at eleven tonight.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Tell him I’ll be there,” and he dropped the handset back onto the receiver on the floor.

Immediately, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, he adjusted his glasses -- as they’d started digging into the bridge of his nose -- and checked his watch. It was one in the afternoon, and he struggled to pull himself off the couch, his muscles sore from the exertion of the night before. He went through his normal morning routine: he grabbed one of the apples from the kitchen and picked through the new pieces of evidence he’d acquired on his desk. The photo was still a source of amusement for him, and the paper with the phone number didn’t have any other useful information on it. Tossing the apple core into the trash bin, he picked the receiver up off the floor and dialed the number on his rotary phone. He was surprised when the operator picked up the line and asked him to check which number he was calling. Reciting the digits to her, he waited as she checked it again, but, unfortunately, the line was a dead end. He thanked the operator, and, as he set down the phone, he began to fidget. Perhaps they weren’t as foolish as he’d thought, or the number wasn’t a phone number at all.

He flopped into his desk chair, took out one of his notepads, and began working the number through any variation he could think of. He tried to see if there was any alphabetic translation, or if it was some kind of cipher, but everything ended up being nonsense. He flipped the paper over and over in his hand, trying to figure out what else it could be, before tossing it back to the desktop. He was applying too much intelligence to this, there was no way it could be this complicated. The events of last night had proven that, and every time he tried to look at it through a more skilled lens he ended up at a dead end. He was starting to get the feeling that the answer was easy, and it was right under his nose. But right now his mind was foggy -- he was sure he’d gotten too much sleep. He slid the paper and the notepad into his desk drawer and shut it with a flick of his hand. He needed more coffee.

The rest of the day was uneventful. He’d taken a trip down to the diner closer to Old Gotham, thinking a change in environment might help his brain get in gear. A morning paper had been left in one of the booths, and so he’d spent most of his time drinking coffee and scanning the classifieds for any potential work. There hadn’t been any fires yesterday, though that might be because whoever was responsible for the others was now focused on him. After he left the diner, he was feeling more alert and much more energized. He started to make a mental list of places he needed to visit to further the fire investigation, or at least to see if he could get his hands on some records to find a connection between the buildings. He swung back by the office in the evening and grabbed his coat and hat. Then, he headed down to the underground train station.

Once he got onto the platform, he checked his watch; he was early. Just how he liked it. When you weren’t sure what a meeting was for it was best to show up much earlier than the agreed time. It gave the other side less time for preparation and made it more likely that you would enter the discussion at an advantage. He was lucky today -- the trains were on time -- but as he got into the car, his leg muscles tensed. He’d certainly exerted too much energy last night in his malnutritioned state. Edward watched as the lights on the tunnel walls flashed by the windows as it continued on its track, the ambient rustle of the train car almost relaxing. The woman in the car with him kept sneaking glances in his direction. He was sure she recognized him. At one point he caught her staring and stared back, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t another hitman. He saw nothing but fear in her eyes. Eventually, she got up and moved to the back of the car to put more distance between them and to place herself closer to an exit.

As the train finally approached his stop, Edward stood up and headed to the door, grabbing hold of the railing above to keep his balance. He noticed the woman in the back of the car watching him as he exited the train; at least now she could be at ease. The station was much busier here, and he watched the crowds of people migrating to and from the train around him. He found himself gathered in with the night workers as they traveled up the stairs to the street level. Some of them looked in his direction, but most were too preoccupied with their morning routines to worry. Getting up to the sidewalk, Edward looked around. The traffic was much busier here, even at this late hour. He remembered that this part of the city was very chaotic during the territory wars, but it looked as if it hadn’t suffered too much of the destruction. The streets looked much the same, and to a tourist it would look like it had been nothing but business as usual here. It felt like a photograph, almost like a time capsule.

He looked across the street to his destination, the GCPD headquarters -- the new one, he reminded himself. They had a bad track record of letting these buildings get destroyed, or at least become unusable. He hurried through a break in the traffic and made his way up the wide stone steps to the entrance. He’d only walked through the front doors of this particular building twice, and he was barely conscious at the time. Once inside, he stopped and looked around the small entryway, spotting a plaque on the wall with office numbers. He barely looked at it, just skimmed, knowing the name would catch his eye. And it did. Commissioner and 3rd were all he needed, and he hurried up the steps on his right.

He wasn’t sure what this meeting was for, but he did find it odd that Gordon hadn’t made the invite call himself. Having Wilkes do it could be interpreted in different ways, some insulting and some logical. He assumed Gordon was going to try another tactic to question him about the events inside the Narrows, and he was more than willing to show up for that game. He’d grown tired of his frequent phone calls, and the idea of Gordon trapped in his office with an unrelenting Edward sounded like a good way to spend the evening hours. He wondered how long it was going to take Gordon to figure out that most of the people affected weren’t going to speak. It was Jim’s job, yes; Edward knew that, but it was too ugly of a thing to look back at.

As he climbed the stairs, he noticed many nasty looks from the officers he passed. Some of them looked angry, but others just looked disappointed. Probably that you’re still breathing, Edward thought. Good, I hope it ruins their day. Finally getting to the third floor, Edward began a slow stride down the long hall. The open area to his left was filled with mostly empty desks, and only a few detectives spotted the area, hunched over paperwork or clicking away at their typewriters. He noticed one staring and felt a burst of excitement in his chest. Bullock was sitting at this desk, staring him down, their last encounter clearly not forgotten. Edward noticed he had a new haircut, and that, like last time, he didn't look as rough for wear as Edward was used to. Maybe he finally quit drinking, probably not the best decision in the current climate. With a tilt of his hat he gave Bullock a smile, but Harvey only let out a groan Edward could barely hear and turned back to his work in a huff. Thanks, Bullock, he thought. That at least told Edward he wasn’t here for some empty threat of arrest; Harvey wouldn’t be able to contain his joy if that was the case. That was good, he was tired of that boast.

Getting to Gordon’s office door, he knocked in a rhythmic pattern and entered after hearing an invitation from within. The room was dark other than the lamp on Gordon’s desk, and as Edward entered he noted the slight look of surprise on Jim’s face. Edward closed the door behind him and watched Jim sit up in his chair, and the annoyance on his face made Edward’s mood fly into jubilation.

Jim looked at his watch. “I guess eleven o’clock is ten-thirty in Arkham time.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Jim. I’m a working man now, being overly punctual looks good on all my paperwork.” Edward responded, happily nestling his hands into his coat pockets.

Jim let out an exhausted breath. Taking the work folder off his desk, he shoved it into one of the drawers, but not before Edward could catch a few words off the pages. Jim lit a cigarette as he stood, making his way over to the filing cabinet by the window.

“You want a coffee or anything?” Jim mumbled as he pulled a few files out.

“Got anything stronger?” Edward prodded.

“Yes, but I’m not wasting it on you,” Jim said as he moved back toward his desk with a stack of files in hand. As Jim moved past the window, Edward spotted a tall dark figure there, blocking the moonlight shimmering through the panes. In an instant, his jubilation was gone. Edward glared at the white eyes staring at him from the darkness, and he felt his chest tightened at the realization he hadn’t noticed earlier that the Bat was there.

“Have a seat, Edward,” Jim said as he sat back down at his desk.

“I’ll stand.” Edward blurted out, his eyes still fixated on the dark corner.

Jim’s eyes shifted between the two men, but he decided to ignore the clear animosity Edward held, “Whatever makes you more comfortable, I guess.” He took a deep drag from his snipe and looked Edward square in the eyes, “Alright, Ed. We know --”

“Edward. We’ve been through this, you don’t get to call me that.” Edward interrupted.

“...Edward, I know that you’re investigating the fires.” Jim finished.

Edward stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, giving Jim a stern look. “Is that what this meeting is about? I’m not telling you a damn thing, Jim.” He gave the commissioner a smug grin. “If that’s all, can I go now?”

Jim narrowed his eyes, leaning forward over his desk a bit and piercing Edward with a stern look that only fathers could muster. “How about you let me finish? You think you can keep that smart mouth of yours shut long enough for me to explain?”

Edward gritted his teeth, “Fine.”

Jim puffed on his cigarette, and Edward could tell he’d already gotten on the man’s nerves, which would’ve been enjoyable if it wasn’t for their third wheel. Letting out a deep sigh, the smoke flew around Jim in the bright light from the lamp.

“Edward, I know you’re investigating the fires. You’ve been spotted at a couple of the scenes, and --”

“They weren’t locked down.” Edward interrupted again, but a swift look from Jim made him shut his mouth.

“And, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out on your own. I know this is going to sound strange, but I’m not asking you to divulge all your intel to us. I asked you here to tell you what we know.” Jim finished.

Edward frowned in confusion, then laughed under his breath. “You can’t be serious. You want to tell me what you know?”

“To be honest, this case is pretty complicated,” Jim mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, “We both decided that the more eyes we have looking at it is a good thing. And then, you’ll have a better idea of what to look for should any new evidence crop up.” Edward could tell he was trying his best to remain professional, to ease any suspicions that Edward had. But the detective knew this was a trick, it had to be. There was no way on Earth either of these men would confide information to him. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Jim cut him off.

“And, before you say it, no, this isn’t some scheme to get you to tell us what you know. And, again, before you ask, yes, there’s a catch. There’s something we’d like to ask for in return.” Jim huffed out a puff of smoke. “C’mon, Nigma, you’re used to this. We help you with your investigation, and in turn, you help us with a problem we’ve been running up against. It's been causing us some trouble and slowing down progress in the investigation.”

Edward looked between the two men, running through possible options in his mind. He felt out of sorts again, unsure what guise would be the best strategy for this situation. He couldn't play his tried-and-true Riddler shtick, that could ruin everything. But he was too flustered to act out the know-it-all attitude, too put-out for the calm and collected better-than-you routine. The offer was intriguing, but it was sending off every alarm bell in his mind. Then the Bat stepped out of the shadows, and as he got closer to the desk the lamplight made more of him visible. It was much different seeing him in the light than in the dark alley the night before. Edward felt his pulse quicken, and then that grating deep voice finally filled the room.

“Nigma.”

“Don’t,” Edward interrupted, yet again.

“Nigma --”

“I’m here to talk to Jim! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come at all.” Edward’s breath hastened, and he cursed himself mentally. That came across less direct and more childish than he’d intended, but the Bat remained silent.

He hated that, he’d always hated it. That expressionless, silent stare always grated on his nerves. Edward hated it even more now that he knew what it was, and that, before, he’d fallen for it so easily. It was an interrogation tactic: remain silent to entice the other to continue speaking. He wasn’t going to fall for it this time, he’d learned this tactic as well, so he simply stared back. Which seemed like a good idea at first, but the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable he became. The light showed him how different the cowl was now, and the cape had changed as well. It always annoyed Edward when the Bat would show up with a whole new suit -- keeping up with all the variations was tedious work. He saw a small nick in the cowl on one side, Hit with something no doubt. Edward’s first thought was that he hoped it hurt, but that thought brought on a strange melancholy sensation. He remembered that the Bat had been hurt a lot recently, and he had no idea how badly since he wasn’t there to see it. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

He’d heard some of the stories, but when it came to the Dark Knight those were mostly untrue. He wasn’t as extravagant as the tales made him out to be. Then, all of a sudden, one of those stories flashed in his memory. They said he’d stayed outside the barricades for a whole week, trying to find a way to break in to save people. But, all his attempts were unsuccessful. Edward hated that one in particular; it sounded exactly like the sort of thing the stubborn idiot would do, and the thought of it made him uneasy. He broke the long stare, his eyes wandering around the room as he tried to look unbothered.

Jim’s gruff voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “Edward, we need your help. That’s what he’s trying to say, that’s why we called you here.”

Edward froze and attempted to hide his shock at that statement, but his gaze darted to Jim’s. He saw genuine pleading in the commissioner’s eyes, and he let out a howl of frustration. Jim arched a brow at the sudden outburst but only watched as Edward reached up and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Placing them back on, he stomped over to the chair in front of Jim’s desk and sat down with a completely defeated look on his face. Jim seemed to relax at this development, his eyes rested on Edward for a few moments before standing up, “I’ll get you that stiffer drink.”

“Yeah, you better.” he replied, ignoring Jim as he walked past him toward the front of the office. Edward took his coat and hat off, tossing them in the vacant chair beside him. He flinched; suddenly, there was a large file being slid in front of him by a gloved hand. It opened the folder and flipped through some of the pages before stopping on a pile of photographs. As the hand retreated, Edward began to sift through them. There were a lot more fires than he’d known of. But it was what he’d come to expect: the fires all started on different floors, there were different levels of damage, and they were in all different areas of the slums. He heard Gordon pouring some liquid into a glass, which he placed next to him. Flipping through the investigation notes, Edward noticed that they’d already answered one of his questions. The building’s owners had no connection -- at least that was one lead he wouldn’t have to waste his time on.

“You’re sure they’re all connected?” Edward’s question was directed at Jim, and he hoped he’d take the hint.

He heard Jim’s voice move across from him as he sat back down. “That’s what he says. There are some connections, but not many, on paper at least.”

Edward kept that in mind as he continued to read through all the statements from those involved, noting the lack of actual witnesses. He took a sip from his glass without thinking, scotch, he noted. Of course, he’d have scotch. A familiar address jumped out on one of the pages: Mrs. Hattie’s previous residence. He noted the lack of a witness report from her as well as he took another sip from his drink and removed his cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.

“You think it's arson?” Edward asked, though this question was directed at Batman.

There was a pause before that grating voice spoke. “It's possible.”

“It’d have to be someone who had direct access to every building.” Edward stated plainly.

“Not necessarily. A lot of the buildings have been vacant for an extended time.”

“So there isn’t a lot of foot traffic. I get it, but you’d think that it’d be in just one area. It's up north, south, all over.” Edward slid a snipe into the side of his mouth and lit it with a match.

“That’s one of the issues with that theory,” the Bat said. “It's possible, but someone blending in in that many neighborhoods would be difficult.”

“Unless they’re some public servant or something. No one ever suspects the mailman.”

“It's possible, but there are other theories as well. I’m sure you’ll figure them all out.” said Batman. The tone of his voice sounded rather final, as if he was putting an end to the questioning.

Edward put the file back on the desk, taking a drag on his snipe. “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Is that satisfactory, Edward?” Jim cut in, Edward shifted his gaze back up to the commissioner and gave him a tired nod.

“Good. Feel free to take it with you, and give it a good look over. Not sure how many of those folks are your clients, but hopefully it helps.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, and Edward could tell he was about to be put in an uncomfortable situation. Jim rubbed his mustache, giving Edward a stern yet pleading look. “We’re having trouble getting people to cooperate with us on this. The owners of the buildings are the only ones speaking to us, the people who lived there or even nearby don’t want to talk. It puts us in a tough spot, and we’re really strapped on any potential witnesses. That leaves us with just paper trails, and stakeouts to see who shows up at the scene. As you can see, it's not much to go on.”

Edward saw the opportunity for a dig right away, and his eyes narrowed, as he took another drag on his snipe. “Did you expect any other reaction than that? Only a fool would think the people in those areas would cooperate with you two.” Edward noted Jim’s quick glare and held up a questioning hand. “What does that have to do with me?”

Jim took a deep breath, snuffing out his cigarette in the tiny ashtray on his desk. “You didn’t seem to have too many issues getting them to talk to you.”

Edward’s eyebrows raised, a knowing smile crossing his face. “Ah, I see. Were you all tailing me on my bar crawl the other night?”

“Maybe. And you didn’t appear to have too many issues. People were willing to talk to you --”

Edward waved his hand in a flippant gesture. “Jim, they’re a bunch of working people. They get off their shifts, and head to the local watering hole. They only talked to me because they were intoxicated, and, well, because they live in the damn slums. They’re not used to us flashy people who are all over the news showing up in their area.”

Jim raised a brow. “You think they talked to you because you were a super-criminal?”

Edward shrugged, draping his arm over the back of the chair. “Is it that hard to fathom, Jim? They’ve only read about me in the papers, seen me on the television. Or they’ve seen my mugshot on wanted posters plastered around the city. I’m sure they never thought I’d show up in a tiny dive bar in the slums wanting to talk to them.” Edward looked between the two of them, a smug grin crossing his face. “I know you two think I’m terribly dangerous, but you need to understand that to some people, dangerous is exciting.”

Jim contemplated his reasoning and briefly looked to Batman, who nodded in response to his questioning look. Edward’s eyes shifted between them again, and he took one final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. “So that’s it, huh? You want me to go bar hopping for you two?”

Jim rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers brushing his mustache. “Do you think they’d speak to you again? Would more people talk to you if you tried?”

Edward shrugged, crossing his arms across his ribs and his ankles under Jim’s desk as he slumped in the chair. “It's an idea. I could canvas the areas, but it will require some door-to-door visits. That’s not exactly the safest situation to put myself in.”

Jim nodded and looked to Batman again. “We should do some thorough background checks on these people, make sure none of them are sympathizers or supporters.” Batman nodded in agreement, and Jim looked back to Edward. “We'll send along a list of people to avoid. I guess we’ll try to take another crack at them while you’re gathering intel.”

Edward pressed his lips together, fixing Jim with a serious look. As long as they were agreeing to do that for him, it wouldn’t hurt to see what else he could get them to agree to. “So, how much am I getting paid for this job? And who is buying my drinks? I’m not spending my own money buying booze for people all night long.”

Jim huffed as he leaned back in his chair, gesturing towards Edward as he looked to Batman. “See? I told you.”

Edward smirked, but Batman shifted his gaze down to him. “You’ll be compensated, Nigma.”

“Oh, you’re paying for it? How do I know this isn’t some scam to get a bug into my office?” Edward’s eyes narrowed, but the Bat didn’t react, still giving Edward that silent, annoying stare.

“You’ll be compensated.” he said again, and Edward let out the breath he was holding. That had been too easy, and he decided to see how far he could go until he encountered some push-back.

“Fine, but there’s one more thing. I’m going to need some help.” Edward uncrossed his arms, draping them over the armrests of his chair.

“What kinda help?” Jim asked, giving Edward a suspicious look over the rim of his glasses.

“Well, some people do find chatting with me to be exciting, but others might need a little push to be more upfront with their information. Sometimes it can take people a while to start opening up to me --” Edward decided to ignore Jim’s eye roll of agreement to that, “and since time seems to be a factor in this, it would be smart to have some backup. Some... persuasive backup.”

Jim frowned. He could tell this wasn’t going anywhere good, and Edward was attempting to manipulate the situation. “Alright then, who are you suggesting be your persuasive backup?”

Edward grinned, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the armrests. “Robin.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Really, Nigma? You’re gonna pull that kinda shit?” Edward could feel the Bat’s intimidating presence grow as the mood in the room drastically shifted.

He quickly held up his hands. “Calm down, gentlemen! I have my reasons.” Both of the men were glaring at him with anger so tangible he felt like he could cut it with a knife, and his mood improved in an instant. “Okay, number one. He’s,” Edward flicked a finger toward Batman, “too intimidating. He’d just scare the shit out of them and they’d clam up. Number two, I’m unwilling to work with him under any circumstances.” Jim rested an elbow on his desk and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Number three, the kid can actually take direction. He has ears and he knows how to use them. He doesn’t interrupt me every couple of seconds. Number -- whatever, look, no matter how much I hate to admit it, the kid isn’t a complete imbecile. He can keep up with me, at least, he seems like he can. He’s not going to slow me down, and I’m sure he can take a clue if things get too sketchy.”

Jim’s expression was still very untrusting, but now he appeared to be listening to Edward’s explanation. The Bat, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it, though Edward didn’t blame him. The more obvious solution to this problem would’ve been one of Gordon’s detectives, and Edward was sure Batman could see right through his weak reasoning. “Robin carries the impression of Batman being involved, without all the messy consequences of Batman being involved. I’m sure he can be persuasive enough with people that might need it, and I’m more than confident he can handle himself when I inevitably piss off the wrong person. It’d only be minimal involvement, I want to be around him about as much as he wants to be around me. Another perk is, I don’t have to talk to him during this whole investigation.” Edward concluded, flicking a thumb in the Bat’s direction.

Jim was mulling over what Edward had said, looking at Batman with an exhausted look. “I’m sure it’s just bullshit, but it does make sense. You two would just be at each other’s throats the whole time.”

Batman gave Edward a piercing glare, “No.”

Edward scoffed. “Why? What do I look like to you? I’m not the Joker --” he quickly held up his hands as Batman’s fists clenched at his sides, a light growl leaving his lips. “Okay fine, that was too far. All I’m saying is, you let the kid follow me around, break into my house, but actually putting him to work is too much for you?”

“Him tailing you and monitoring your movements is completely different than having him be in a situation where you are expected to watch his back. You know that, and you’re pushing my patience.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. They’re just a bunch of people who lay down tar, or dig ditches for a living. It's not like they’re hardened criminals. All I need him for is to be a second pair of eyes, and to be there in case someone thinks it's more exciting to talk to a vigilante than an ex-super-criminal.”

Batman continued his intense glare, but he went back to being a silent presence in the room. Jim let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Sweet lord, you two are tiresome.”

The Bat leaned closer to Edward. “Fine. Minimal involvement.” With that he turned and climbed out of the open window, gliding off into the night without a sound.

Edward leaned over the side of his chair to stare at the vacant window, surprised. Jim just waved a hand, “He does that, don’t take it personally.”

Edward looked back at Jim as he grabbed his belongings off the chair next to him. “Good to know he’s just as rude to you as he is the rest of us.” Putting his hat on, he downed the rest of his drink with an uncomfortable hiss and stood up to put on his coat. “So, do we schedule our next team meeting now? Next time, do we meet at the bat-signal?”

Jim let out another tired sigh, handing the large evidence file up to Edward. “Nigma, just leave. I’ve dealt with you enough tonight. We’ll be in touch.”

Edward snatched up the folder and tucked it under his arm. He gave Jim a slight tip of his hat as he exited the office, a proud smile crossing his lips the moment the door clicked shut. He headed toward the stairs to leave, a happy air to step as he went. But his good spirits were short-lived. By the time he’d gotten to the ground floor, a sense of anxiety had started in his chest. As he stepped out of the front doors, he could feel the thoughts trying to pry into his consciousness. He tried to push them down, to ignore them, but that only made them press even harder.

After all these months you finally get to see him, and you messed it all up, as usual.

Continue reading:

Ep 9 * Ep 10 * Ep 11 * Ep 12 * Ep 13 * Ep 14

#writing post #Season 1 episodes #Season 1 Finale #Edward Nigma #batvillains #Batman #S1 eps 8 - 14 #zorasublime #fic

46 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 3 years

Text

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch.109-113

Hard to believe we’re at the end of this crazy ride.

Last time, Joseph had defeated Kars, only for Stroheim to order his men to finish Kars off with UV rays. Stroheim just wanted Kars to hurry up and die faster, and maybe he also wanted credit for the kill, but instead he played right into Kars hands. After Joseph kicked his ass, Kars put on a Stone Mask he had stowed away somewhere, and he installed the Red Stone of Aja into the Mask.

I should probably go over that a bit, since it hasn’t been mentioned for a while. Kars has been perfecting the Stone Mask technology for thousands of years. It turns humans into vampires, but for his species it unlocks even greater powers. But Kars hit a wall in his research. He wanted to design a mask that would make him the ultimate life form, but he lacked the means to power such a mask. He discovered an answer in the Aja Stone, a mineral that focuses light, but he needed a bigger, more flawless sample of it, and that’s the Stone he’s using right now, the one he captured from Lisa Lisa.

So instead of killing Kars, Stroheim accidentally made his lifelong ambition come true. One nice touch I just noticed is that the Mask itself falls apart as soon as it’s finished its task. I suppose, in theory, someone else could have tried it on and get the same power boost as Kars? Would it even work on a normal human? Well, we’ll never find out.

There’s a couple of ways to interpret this. One is that Kars’ “Super” Mask was highly experimental, and it must have been untested, since he’d never had Lisa’s stone until now. So it’s possible that the thing burned itself out after a single use. The other interpretation is that Kars designed this Mask to self-destruct after the first use, because it was never intended for anyone else but himself. The whole point of this was to become the Ultimate Life Form, the very pinnacle of all living creatures on Earth. I think it was implied that Wammu and Esidisi were expecting to share in this power when the time came, but why would Kars have ever allowed for this? What’s the point of being the greatest and best in the world if you have to share that top spot with two other guys?

Stroheim realllly wants to believe this is all a big fluke, and that he didn’t just make the bad guy stronger. The Ripple wound on Kars’ arm is still there, so Stroheim figures he’ll die anyway. Except Kars doesn’t seem too bothered by his injury. And then...

Yeah, so Kars not only repairs his injured arm, he reshapes his hand into a squirrel. Joseph speaks for us all: What the fuck?

For a hot minute, everyone thinks the squirrel he made is kind of cute, until Kars sends it to find another squirrel and kill it. Then the Kars-squirrel tears a hole through Stroheim and carves a trench in a Nazi soldier from chest to eyeball. Then it rejoins Kars’ wrist, and turns into a flower, and then a butterfly. Some Part 5 and 6 pre-references for ya.

Then the sun comes up. Wait, the Joseph/Wammu fight happened around midnight, right? How many hours have these folks been out here? And it’s February, too, so this had to have been a long night. Anyway, the sun comes up, so we’re saved, right? Wrong. Sunlight doesn’t hurt Kars anymore, thanks to the power he got from his special mask. So now what are they supposed to do?

Well, Joseph’s going to use his last resort: running away. Also, he grabs the Aja Stone, for no apparent reason. Kars grows a pair of wings to chase him. He no longer cares about the Hamon users, because they’re no longer a threat to him. But he wants to kill Joseph personally, both to celebrate his new powers and to avenge the deaths of Wammu and Kars.

Smokey joins Joseph, which doesn’t make much sense to Joseph, but Smokey wants to tell Joseph about Lisa Lisa being his mother. Except Joseph’s a little too distracted by the eldritch horror that’s trying to murder him. Read the room, Smokey.

Here’s a helpful diagram of Kars to explain what his deal is now. Basically, he’s immortal and can regenerate and reshape his whole body, but he had that before, just by being a Pillar Man. The big upgrade is that he’s no longer weak to sunlight (and by extension, the Ripple), and he can now replicate the traits of any life form on Earth. He’s faster than cheetahs and has better hearing than bats and so on. He can go for a full year without eating, and he no longer needs to sleep. Sex is meaningless to him, because procreation is only important for lower life forms to maintain their species. Kars has no need for children or bretheren. “There is but only one summit.”

Maybe Wammu and Esidisi had understood that truth all along, and they never seriously expected Kars to share this power with them. They practically worshipped Kars as it was, so maybe they were only doing this for the greater glory of their leader.

So what does Kars plan to do with all of this power he now has? The Aja Stone was his only goal before, and that’s done. He has no enemies to fear, and as Speedwagon observes, there’s no way left to kill him. This page states that his only purpose now is to create a world to match his own desire, but what is that? What’s Kars’ vision for the Earth now that he’s reached this point?

We never really find out, and I suppose that’s why it’s convenient that he decided to start out by killing Joseph. For all we know, he would have just chilled out and left humanity alone after that, but this way there’s still an immediate threat to deal with.

Miraculously, Joseph manages to stay ahead of Kars long enough to find the airplane that brought Stroheim here. You’d think Kars could have caught up to him with all these fancy new powers, but Kars was never in much of a hurry. He took his time to search for the Aja Stone, and he made it a point to trap Jojo and Lisa rather than risk fighting them fairly. So even now, when he has such an overwhelming advantage, he seems to be playing things the same way. He has no weaknesses, so he may as well take his time and stalk Joseph, if only to watch him squirm.

Joseph tries using the plane’s weapons to even the odds, but Kars grows armadillo hide on his wings to protect himself, and he fires the armor at Joseph like shrapnel. So machinery doesn’t seem to make much of a difference.

So Joseph just flies south, using the plane’s engines to give himself a comfortable lead. He’ll run out of fuel in a couple of hours, but Speedwagon calls him on the radio and tells him that they’ll figure out a plan. Except that Joseph already has his own plan. There’s a volcanic island off the coast of Italy. I assume this is Stromboli Island, since Italy has only three active volcanoes, and Mt. Stromboli is the only one on an island. Anyway, Joseph plans to lure Kars into the volcano, and destroy him with molten lava. I mean, Kars is still flammable, right?

Speedwagon hates this idea, because he doesn’t see any way for Joseph to pull this off without getting killed in the process, and that sounds way too much like what happened to Joseph’s father and grandfather. Oh, and his great-grandfather. I didn’t notice George I up there until just now. Speedwagon tries to tell Joseph about Lisa being his mom, but Joseph can’t hear him because of all the piranha noises in the plane. Wait... what?

Yeah, all the feathers that Kars turned into armor and launched into the fuselage? Well, he’s still controlling those things, and now Kars has turned them into piranhas. Well, I guess not literal fish, since they’d never survive up here. The point is that Kars can control every cell in his body and mimic any animal traits he wants, so if he wants to make small bitey creatures to wreck Joseph’s plane, he might as well make them look like piranhas. ALso he makes an octopus that tears up one of the engines.

So Joseph bails out, but he’s a sitting duck in that parachute. Kars calls him a butterfly caught in a web, which is the second time we’ve seen that analogy in Part 2. Araki just out here telling everyone what Jolyne would be wearing in twelve years.

But the parachute contains a dummy. Why did Joseph waste time drawing a face on it? Because he knew he had to fool Kars’ razor-sharp senses, of course. Kars probably saw the dummy, and got suspicious, but then he noticed the eyes and mouth, and though “Oh, okay, I guess that’s a real person then.”

Anyway, this suckers Kars in so that Joseph can crash into him with his plane and they can both go into the volcano together.

But Kars thinks he can tear up the plane before it lands. Except a robot hand grabs him from behind, and he finds Stroheim stowed away. Wait, so Stroheim outran Joseph AND Kars and hid in this plane before Joseph took off?

Anyway, Stroheim manages to get Joseph out of the plane to relative safety, but he crushes his whole lower body in the process. But it seems to be worth it, because Kars landed smack-dab in the volcano! Awesome! Fuck you, Kars, you screwed over Lisa Lisa, and that’s what you get! He tries to protect himself, but he can’t grow a defense against 1000 degree heat...

... is what I would say, except no, Kars totally does that. Just when Joseph thinks Kars has succumed to the lava, Kars pops out and slices off Joseph’s left arm with his goofy blade.

How the fuck did Kars survive? Well, he couldn’t grow a lava-proof shell, but he could create a porous layer beneath the shell, and use the air inside to insulate the rest of his body from the heat. That wouldn’t protect him indefinitely, but it was enough to get the drop on Joseph.

So that’s it then, right? Not even molten lava can kill Kars, unless you could shove him down in there and keep him still for like ten minutes, and who’s going to pull that off? Stroheim begins to lose all hope...

Then we get a flashback to Kars’ origin. Long, long ago, there was a race of subterranean humanoid with long lifespans and an aversion to sunlight. Prehistoric humans thought of them as gods or demons because of their reclusiveness and power. Also, they would eat humans and animals, so that probably made them dangerous, too.

But I don’t think they were nearly as powerful as the Pillar Men we’ve seen in this story. I say this because the flashback establishes that Kars was the one who discovered the latent power in their brains, and he was the one who invented the Stone Mask technology to harness that latent power. So it stands to reason that much of what he and the others could do was the result of Stone Mask enhancements. The problem is that those enhancements increased the amount of blood they needed to consume, and the others in the Clan feared that Kars’ experiments would destroy their whole ecosystem. So when they tried to stop Kars, he killed them all. The only survivors were himself, Esidisi, and two young children who grew up to become Wammu and Santana.

So that story tells you something about what Kars might do with this newfound “ultimate” power. He didn’t achieve this for the good of his own people, because they’re all dead now, and he wiped most of them out personally. If he would do that to his own kind, the rest of the Earth would be expendable to him.

Back to the present, Joseph’s not giving up yet. He tries to use the Ripple one more time, but it doesn’t work. Worse, Kars counters with his own Ripple. Because Kars can do that now, you see. He’s got the powers of all life on Earth, and that includes Ripple users, I suppose. Worse, Kars’ Hamon power is hundreds of times greater, so he ends up getting badly burned on his right knee.

So now Joseph’s completely out of tricks, and he starts to accept the inevitable. Kars decides that the best way to kill Joseph would be to destroy him with his own finisher, Ripple Overdrive. So he charges up the most powerful Hamon attack he can muster, and just as he’s about to strike...

Joseph impulsively grabs the Red Stone of Aja and uses it to block, kind of like how he stymied Kars back on that cliff in Switerland. Only this time, Kars doesn’t hold back, and the Hamon attack is amplified. It bursts through Joseph’s right hand and into the volcano below.

The narration says that not even Joseph really understood any of this. He just sort of acted on instinct. That bothered me once, but now I see that it wasn’t entirely unconscious impulse. Back in Venice, when Lisa first told Joseph about the Aja Stone, Joseph suggested destroying it to deny Kars his prize. But Lisa said there was a legend that foretold that Kars could never be defeated without the Aja Stone. And that would at least explain why Joseph picked the thing up back in Switzerland before he fled to Mt. Stromboli. Maybe it was unconscious action that made him pick up the stone in this fateful moment, but I think it was a more conscious thought that made him take the stone with him in the first place. On some level, he remembered that legend.

Okay, so there’s a mega-ultra-Super-Saiyan-5-Ripple that just went into a live volcano. What good does that do? Well, it makes the volcano erupt, and it launches Joseph and Kars into the air. So what? Kars can fly. Yeah, he could, but...

You know, Joseph’s lost hand really left an impression on me when I first watched the anime of Part 2, but now that I’ve read the manga, I’ve noticed tons of severed and wounded forearms all through this story, almost as if Araki had been building up to this moment. I’d make a Part 4 joke, but nah, that’s too easy. But it wasn’t even that long ago that Wammu lost both of his hands, and then he launched them as Joseph to distract him. Kars lost his hand before he grew it back and turned it into a squirrel. Hell, Stroheim launched his robot hand at Kars to distract him for the volcano crash. And now Joseph’s hand has somehow launched itself into Kars’ throat to distract him again!

I’m assuming that Hamon energy has a lot to do with this. You’d think Joseph’s hand wouldn’t have survived getting fired up this high, and it shouldn’t be powerful enough or alive enough to bother Kars this much, but it does. So I’m chalking it up to all that Ripple energy. It briefly reanimated Joseph’s hand and made it follow Kars up to this altitude, kind of like how Jonathan controlled Wang Chung’s decapitated body at the end of Part 1.

So Joseph taunts Kars about this, and implies that he planned this somehow. And when Kars pauses to ask if he did plan this, more rocks and stuff from the volcano hit him and send him even higher up into the air.

And Joseph claims that he did plan this entire thing! That’s bullshit, but he hopes Kars will believe it, if only to make him more frustrated. Maybe Joseph didn’t plan all this out, but he seems to have deduced what’s happening here.

Kars has been launched so high into the air, and at such an incredible speed, that he’s achieved escape velocity. Does Kars even realize what that means? I mean, he’s super-intelligent, especially now, and he’s been alive for thousands of years, but what could he really know about outer space? Has he ever even considered it before? It seems like all of his ambitions involve the Earth, and only the Earth, and everything living upon it.

As for Joseph, the chunk of rock he’s on does not fly into space. Instead, it starts to fall back down, and Joseph assumes that he’s probably not going to survive the impact. Eight hours later, Stroheim makes it back and informs Speedwagon that Joseph must have died in the eruption.

But Kars isn’t worried at first, because he thinks he has this whole “vacuum of space” thing figured out. He just takes a page from Wammu’s playbook and makes air jets on his back to expel compressed gas from his body, like the maneuvering thrusts on a spacecraft. Except that’s not nearly enough to counteract the force of the volcano that sent him up here.

Yeah, Kars has no idea how space works. Instinctively, he probably counted on friction to slow him down, except there is no friction in space. He probably also expected his air jets to push him a little bit at a time, and maybe he could pull in more air as needed, except there is no more air. Even the air from his body is denied to him, because it just dissipates into the vacuum of space. Kars talks about the air freezing as it comes out, but I don’t think that’s right. What’s happening to him is like when you use one of those compressed gas canisters to clean your keyboard. Release a lot of the gas at once, and the can starts to get cold. That’s because the liquefied gas left inside the can now has more room, and it begins to boil as it expands. This draws in heat from the surroundings, which makes the can feel cold to the touch. That’s what’s happening to Kars here. All he’s doing it losing all his body heat. Maybe some of the air really is freezing around him, but I don’t know. It depends on whether the sunlight is hitting him, I think.

Anyway, the last thing Kars says is “I can’t go back!!!” And that’s what makes this so perfect. In the anime, we see the Earth recede into the distance as he continues to tumble further and further away. By surviving the lava, Kars had “mastered” the Earth, but now he’s been separated from the Earth. He’s got all this incredible power, but without the Earth, he’s got no one to use it on.

And then we come to the pièce de résistance of Battle Tendency: The epilogue page that establishes, in no uncertain terms, that Kars never returned to the Earth. There’s no miracle escape this time, no clever trick or loophole. He simply doesn’t have the necessary acceleration to push himself back the way he came.

Did he die? Nope, because he made himself immortal, remember? Not even sunlight or starvation can destroy him now. But now death is the only thing he craves, because he’s completely alone and has nothing to do. I can’t imagine he’s very comfortable like this either, because it’s incredibly cold in outer space, and Kars must be able to sense that cold, even if it doesn’t actually hurt him.

And this is such a fitting punishment for a villain like Kars. Just as Stroheim wanted to become superior and lost his humanity in the process, Kars ruthlessly sacrificed friend and foe alike to achieve this Ultimate form, and what good does it do him? It’s become his prison, his hell. At long last, he’s become the supreme being, a world unto himself, but with no one around to lord it over, there’s really no point to any of it.

I just really love this ending. I’m not sure how else I can express it. This is what should have happened to Akio Othori in Revolutionary Girl Utena. But Araki was brace enough to do it to Kars.

I suppose I could attempt some exercise in JoJo Part Comparison and connect Kars’ final fate to all the other JoJo villains. But I dunno, this is getting pretty long in the tooth as it is. I’ll just say that I’m suddenly reminded of Reimi’s final words to Kira in Part 4, when Kira asks where he’s being taken. “Who knows? But I’m sure it’s somewhere you won’t be able to rest in peace.”

So all that’s left is the matter of Joseph’s funeral-- Nah, just kidding, he’s not even dead. What’s weird is that Smokey says he met Joseph “six months ago”, which seems a lot longer than the events of this story. Anyway, Joseph returned to New York, only to find everyone at the cemetary. He wonders who they’re mourning, and he’s shocked to discover it’s him.

So yeah, the rock Joseph was on acted as a “shield”, and he managed to survive the fall, and even ended up near Venice, where Suzie Q found him and tended to his injuries. Stroheim even set him up with a robotic hand to replace the one Kars lopped off. I guess Stroheim never sent word of any of this to the U.S., probably because of Nazi Germany gearing up for World War II.

Anyway, Suzie took care of him for like two weeks, and they got married. So in a way, Joseph did follow in the legacy of Jonathan. Not in the “dying young” way, but the “Beat the bad guy and wake up in the care of a gorgeous blonde lady who eventually marries you” kind of way. You love to see it. But Suzie forgot to send a telegram to New York to let everyone know Joseph was okay, which is why everyone is so shocked and why Joseph is so shocked about them being shocked.

Then we get the epilogues for all the surviving characters. I mentioned this when I liveblogged the Part 5 manga a few years ago, but the stark contrast between Battle Tendency and Vento Aureo is that Part 5 is very ambiguous about its ending. We know who wins and who loses and who survives, but that isn’t really enough. We don’t know what will happen to Giorno Giovanna after Part 5. Does he live up to his lofty dream, or does he succumb to corruption like his wicked father? I think that’s intentional, because Giorno is the “golden wind” in the story. He’s an agent of change, but we don’t get to see the effects of his efforts, only the cause that he fights for. But Part 2 operates in the exact opposite way. We know exactly how and when Speedwagon dies. I’m a little confused how Stroheim could have died at Stalingrad when Kars and a volcano couldn’t kill him, but maybe the Russians had Stand powers. I think the only minor mystery is that we don’t know what happened to Lisa Lisa after 1948. It’s likely that she survived into Part 3, and maybe beyond, but we never see her again.

It’s also kind of weird how upbeat this epilogue is about reporting on the deaths of so many characters. Like, Stroheim died in one of the worst battles in human history, but he went out on his own terms, so it’s cool? I guess? Even the characters without deaths, like Smokey, it’s sort of implicit that he’ll die sooner or later. But it’s a good thing because it’s final and proper. It’s something Kars craves now, but can never experience. A life worth living, made more precious by its limitations. Kars tried to use cheat codes in nature, and he ended up clipping through the map and making the game unplayable. But Smokey, he‘ll be mayor someday.

As for Joseph, we see him in an airport in 1987, bullying Japanese people because his daughter married a Japanese guy and moved there. He’s headed to Japan right now to see her and his grandson, who probably doesn’t even recognize him, it’s been so long.

On the other hand, he appreciates his Walkman, which is either Joseph giving the Japanese some credit, or maybe he’s just too dense to notice the irony.

I hate that he’s listening to the Beatles, because the Beatles are overrated trash. My favorite thing about the Part 2 anime is how they changed his music to “Bloody Stream” by Coda, which a) kicks ass and b) wasn’t a song by the shitty Beatles.

And that’s Battle Tendency. Kind of neat how it closes on Joseph’s flight departing to visit his daughter and grandson, in contrast to the final panel of Part 1, which showed Erina floating in a coffin alone in the ocean. Joseph has bucked the curse and he’s graduated to Part 3, for better or worse.

But I feel kind of weird leaving it here, because I do love the way the anime wrapped up, so I’ll close out with this:

Tsugi ni omae wa “Grazie!” to iu!

#jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #joseph joestar #kars #rudol von stroheim #lisa lisa #robert e o speedwagon #smokey brown #esidisi #wammu #erina joestar #george joestar #jonathan joestar #george joestar ii #suzie q

31 notes · View notes

red-hood-redemption · 3 years

Text

SO I know I’m like, super late to the party, but I finally got my hands on Robin 2021 and there is literally no one for me to talk to about it so now I’m just screaming my thoughts into the void ✌

First off, before i even bought the first two issues, I read through a lot of other people’s opinions on it to kinda get an idea of where it was going characterization-wise for Damian, and because of all the mixed reactions, I figured I should just read it myself and find out. Now I am the FURTHEST thing from a comic book authority, so like, this is truly just an opinion piece but if it convinces anyone to give the run a chance, then yay!!! Honestly, I’m really glad I gave it a shot because I’m genuinely hooked! I’m actually excited about this series (and it scares me lol)!!!

I'm gonna separate my thoughts into two sections: characters, and story, mainly for my own ease, but also if anyone cares more about one thing or the other it's easier to distinguish. But, the line is a little blurry so if I end up getting a little too much into the characterization in the story section, just bear with me lmao. OH and I'm going to try and keep this as un-spoilery as possible but we'll just have to see. SOOOOOOOO

Characters

I think it goes without saying that Melnikov's art is absolutely gorgeous, and really does show how much Damian has grown up. It makes me want to sob its so beautiful, everyone is so pretty, even the guy that looks like a washed up, high as fuck Tony Stark lmao. But moving on to the actual characters,

Rose Wilson

I honestly don't know too much about Rose, I haven't read enough about her to say anything about her characterization and how it compares to her other appearances, or whether or not she is OOC, but so far, I'm enjoying her taking up the "big sis" role, like, immediately lmao.

I don't know how much I trust her yet, but I definitely get the vibe that even if she does betray Dami in any way, she's probably gonna stick her neck out for Dami again and he's probably gonna do the same.

I'm really intrigued about her motivations for being here. Obviously, Respawn has something to do with it, but I want to know what's up with that. I've seen a lot of theories and I'm so excited. Also side note, that Black Swan chick is hot, and I can't wait to see more of her in action!!!

I feel like Ravager knows a WHOLE lot more than Dami does about the interesting things going on on the island, mainly because she's been doing a lot more sitting and waiting than he has as of yet, but I'm hoping to see more of the two of them doing detective-y sleuthing together. We love a mysteryyyy

Flatline

Okay but real talk, why does she look like a character straight out of Monster High

Honestly tho, I dig it. It's cute! She's cute! She isn't annoying (yet) but I don't know if I care too much about her other than she would make a cute friend for Dami.

I think the problem with DC is that they know people LOVE Harley Quinn and they try so hard to make characters just like her but it always falls short, so honestly I am a little wary of her character development in this run, but I'm willing to give her a shot since her little coffin purse on the cover of the second issue is so damn cute. I'm a slut for character design, okay?

Oh speaking of Flatline and Dami, I don't ship it and I don't want them to force a romantic relationship into Damian's "coming of age"/"soul-searching" moment okay? Because that's what this run is about, at least to me! More on that in the story section!

They're literally 13/14 years old. That's 8th-9th grade, babes lets think about that for a minute

Also let's stop the whole "lets introduce a female character just to make her a love interest!" bullshit okay?

Basically, Flatline is interesting, or at least has the potential to be, but I don't want to get my hopes up because DC is notorious for disservicing their female characters 😕

I think the mixed reaction to her is valid, I don't think she's had much time to make a solid impression yet, so I guess you'd have to read it for yourself. Personally, I don't understand why people immediately hate her, especially because she's like, 14, and what kid that age isn't annoying? like at least a little bit lmao! But, yeah. I don't trust her either but literally everyone on this island is sketchy at least and a murderer at best, so hey 🤷‍♀️

Damian

His new outfit lmaoooo at first I was like "WHaT is this child wearing? You'd think Dick would have rubbed off on him and taught him what good taste looks like" but then I saw the later outfit, with the gold patterning and those sleeeevessssss ugh and I take it all back. A Fashion Icon TM. Truly stunning. A sight to behold. So proud, look at him go 😪

I think there's a lot of different opinions on Damian's characterization in this run, and I can definitely see where its coming from, but I disagree with the notion that Damian has been done dirty and reverted to a blood-thirsty, feral child. And I have a LOT of opinions on the whole "feral" thing regarding Damian period (but that's for another time).

I don't think of Dami's rampage as a regression for his character. He's letting of emotions right then and I think its very similar to him venting. Its just not verbal, its physical and he knows he's not going to have to grapple with the consequences of his actions on the first kill. He knows he's technically not doing anything wrong.

He is clearly upset at Bruce and his failure to protect Alfred, and while Dami and Bruce are really often described as being very similar personality-wise, they are still distinctly different individuals who came to their current moral codes in vastly different ways. Bruce came to his "no killing" rule on his own; he made that decision for himself. It wasn't taught to him, it was a moment-of-truth kind of situation. Damian, on the other hand is in a vastly different situation.

Dami is, I think, at the beginning of the climb to his own moment-of-truth. He is in his rebellious phase like Dick, where he's gone off to spread his wings. It's not his conscious intention (at least that's not the vibe I got from reading the first two issues), but its directly underlying his "mission".

Damian is growing out of the expectations of his parents and into his own person. We all know he's been thrown from one moral code to another, both drastically different from each other. I don't think its a regression for him to lose his way a little, because realistically, he's going to have to in order to find it, specifically a moral compass that he forged on his own. He's just what? 14? Like hell a kid his age wants to listen to any form of authority. He's as stubborn as it comes. Damian needs to come to his decision regarding the path he takes in life on his own. It can't be made for him. He's seen and lived both sides of the coin, and I don't think he should be forced just yet to choose a side or pave a middle ground, but I do think that he should get the opportunity to see and experience all the gray areas on his own.

I think I'll transition from characterization to story here, because let's face it, this story is about Damian dealing with his confused emotions right now, in the wake of losing Alfred, a man that kind of acted like a grounding presence, a voice of reason, or a moral compass for him (and honestly Bruce and the rest of the bat crew if we're honest).

Story

So there's a lottttt going on in the story that is really enticing and exciting, and I'm really interested to see how it all plays out.

All the rules to the tournament are so, sketchy? Like they don't sound like they are meant to be sketchy, its basic safety and guidelines or whatever but with all the glowy green shit and the stakes of the tournament? Yeah, you can bet your ass its the "no fighting at night" and other shit is gonna be broken, and that's likely when the fun begins *insert evil laughter*😈

I was slightly put off by the whole "let me teach you to have fun" thing with Rose, because it's not like Dick, Steph, Jon, and like the Titans haven't done that with him too, but eh, not something I'm too concerned about. It's definitely just a segway to get us introduced to more characters that might become Damian's friends which will be interesting considering what Mother Soul said about fraternizing.

And that's another thing! I want Damian to make some friends! I know he already has some, but here's the thing: I think he's already been struggling with belonging, and he's definitely been feeling the disconnect between his life and other kids', whether they're supers/vigilantes or not. I think it'd be nice to see Dami have the experience of meeting people who he at first thinks are just like him!! and then realizing that maybe he doesn't really fit in here either, and that it's okay to feel like you don't belong, as isolating as it may feel at times. It just means you have a set of values. I want him to realize that its not always a bad thing, and you learn more about yourself and your own heart this way.

And from there,,, lets talk about the thing that stuck out to me the most in these two issues! GUILT!! It's mentioned SOO many times already, and I think its going to be a really fun, heartbreaking, and interesting aspect to explore about Damian. Is it guilt about his actions? Leaving behind family? Not being able to save Alfred? Not being a perfect example of Robin? He may call himself Robin but he doesn't sport the OG look or symbol like before. I love that his guilt takes on the form of Alfred though, or at least his conscious. I think it'd be really interesting to see this conscious disappear when Dami strays too far from his center, and when he finds it again, it reappears.

I really think that seeing Damian's actions in this run as a failure of character development is an unfair assessment, though. You can't do everything right in order to grow! You have to screw up, lose your way, experiment with life to find your fit, right?

Something tells me he doesn’t care for the tournament itself, but the end result, and the people behind it and more about WHY it was hidden from him. I mean he finds out the tournament TRULY begins once everyone has died once and tHEN he kill everyone? Felt to me less like a “killing spree” as everyone put it to a calculated decision to get the tournament going. He literally cuts Mother Soul off in the middle of her speaking to start fighting at the beginning

Anyway, just my thoughts lol. I do have some issues with the past two issues, and I might make a separate post about that, but honestly not enough for me to dislike Robin 2021 so far. I mean, besides the very obvious white-washing in the second issue, because DC can absolutely do better. And they should. It’s like they thought we wouldn’t notice???? But besides that, story and characterization-wise I’m looking forward to more. Here’s to hoping it stays that way, just with a better colorist!

#dc comics #robin 2021 #damian wayne #robin

19 notes · View notes

watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Death Do We Part (Part 14)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,100+

“Think about Y/N!” Bruce shouts, making you stop and stare at your hands, a pen hovering over Jason’s last words.

Jason’s grip falters. Of course, he’s thinking of you. Every single minute of every single day, all he’s done is think of you. All of the things he’s done is for you. You and him. That’s why he has to do this.

His voice comes out like a low growl. “Decide now... Do it.”

Bruce is shaking his head and holding the gun with both of his hands, trembling. Jason glares at him and pushes the barrel of the gun harder against Tim’s temple.

“Him or me! Decide!”

“Y/N!”

Alfred’s voice forces your eyes toward him, his trembling hands gripping the back of the couch, and you see the screen, Bruce’s feed closing in on Tim’s face, eyes wide, body struggling, and his head is moving like he’s yelling through the gags despite the gun pressed against his temple.

The gun Jason’s holding.

“You have to do something.”

The pen is still hovering over your skin. You move its tip from your forearm toward the back of your palm and you clench your teeth before you stab yourself.

Jason gasps in pain and drops the gun as blood leaks between his thumb and index finger.

Bruce’s instincts kick in before the gun drops. He comes up from under Jason and kicks him in the chest, forcing him away from the gun and Tim.

Jason reacts quickly and tugs on the rope tied around Tim’s arms to throw Robin behind him. Tim’s body hits the foundation of the stage, breaking in the platform’s scaffolds.

Your whole body freezes as Bruce immediately catches sight of what’s hidden underneath the stage. It’s a bomb with a timer that has 10 seconds left on the clock.

Jason straightens himself up, “I was really hoping you would make the right choice.” His voice no longer sounded angry or broken. He’s disappointed. Slowly he takes out the trigger from his pocket and presses it without another word. The timer on the bomb starts counting down.

Bruce moves quickly and lunges toward Tim. But Jason grabs his legs midair, making both of them slam hard on the tiled floor just a few feet away from Tim.

“Not doing so will only get everyone you love killed!“

Bruce doesn’t even take a moment to look at his son. He keeps his eyes on Tim and kicks Jason's nose.

You throw your head back and quickly use your arms to brace yourself on the counter. You can feel blood coming from your nose and your ears are ringing. But you fight through the pain and try your hardest to focus on the screen.

Bruce is holding Tim in his arms and running out of the club. Alfred is already holding a cloth over your nose but you grab his hand. “Wait. What about Jason?”

Your eyes are immediately drawn back to the screen, to Bruce staring at the club as blinding light consumes its interior. You drop your hold on Alfred and your arms hang limp by your side. You stare at the screen with wide eyes and big tears stream down your face.

“Jason…” Bruce whispers and stays unmoved on the ground until the light finally dies down. Helpless. Useless. Numb.

Tim is still struggling against his restraints. He tries to kick himself toward Bruce. When Bruce finally notices him he takes his mouth gag off first.

“Bruce, it’s fake! It’s all fake!”

✧ ✧ ✧

A few hours before the sun had gone down and hidden itself from Gotham, Tim woke up in Black Mask’s club ungagged and unbound. He quickly jumps up and eyes Jason warily who’s rummaging through a duffle bag.

Jason throws Tim his Robin costume, stolen from the cave during Scarecrow’s raid on the Wayne manor.

“Put that on before the others arrive.”

Tim stares at his suit in his hands before his brows furrow and he looks back at Jason.

“Is this a joke?”

“You could always just stay in your civs and let the whole Arkham gallery know your secret identity.” Jason takes something from his pocket and reads out the card. “Timothy Drake-Wayne. Business. Heh. Pegged you for a sciency guy.”

Tim doesn’t respond to his provocation. Jason snorts. He knows Tim is too smart for that. But he still hoped they could indulge in some small talk before getting right down to business.

“What the hell are you planning, Jason?”

“What I have to to keep Y/N safe.” He walks over to the bar and settles himself in front of his drink. “And you.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say to that or what to make of it. He keeps quiet. Jason stares into his glass.

“Bruce needs to know that he can’t protect using his methods. That being a symbol can only get through to those who are weak.” He clutches the glass in his hands and glares at it. “But what about the ones he can’t intimidate-- the ones who have greater fears than a Bat-- bigger than death.”

“So... you just plan on killing them--”

“Yes, Tim. Every single one until Gotham has no need for places like Arkham fucking asylum!” He slams the glass on the table and finally turns to Tim. “It’s a breeding ground for crazies funded by the people’s taxes!” He clenches his teeth. “It’s where they’re keeping the Joker alive. Fed. Rested. Alive.”

Tim narrows his eyes. And there it is. His motive. “You’re delusional, Jason. This is all just about revenge--”

“Do you know--!” Jason interrupts but quickly stops himself, bothered by the way his volume keeps rising. He takes one deep breath before he speaks again, forcing himself to be more calm and reasonable. “Do you know what he’ll do, if he finds out that I’m alive? About what he’s been itching to do to the new Robin? Or god forbid if the psychotic lunatic finds out about Y/N?”

Tim visibly flinches. He doesn’t. He can only guess as far as his imagination can take him but if the Joker ever finds out about your physical link, it would open a whole new avenue of ways to torture Jason and Bruce.

“We can help you. Both of you.”

Jason shakes his head. “I can help you-- I am helping you.”

His phone vibrates against the table and he immediately points his gun at Tim. “Don’t even think about it.” He keeps it trained on Tim as he answers. When he finally hangs up, he gets up and walks toward Tim.

“Put the suit on. The others are coming.”

“I won’t--”

“They know I caught Robin and you’re holding the fucking costume. Do you want your identity revealed? Do you want to expose Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Y/N, too?”

Tim clenches his fist and thrusts his chest out at Jason until there’s only a foot distance between them. “You already did that, you coward! You sent Scarecrow--”

“Yeah!” Jason’s fiery voice rings inside the empty club. “And I killed Scarecrow! Shot him in the head before he could breathe a single word to anyone. I told them Batman’s a fucking socialist who’s using billionaire Bruce Wayne’s power supply to run his whole operation and the other dumbfucks bought it! But when Crane saw the manor-- and Y/N coming out of there-- he put two and two together!”

Tim’s eyes are wide and his posture falters.

“Scarecrow’s… dead? You murdered him...”

Jason wants to snap at him. But instead he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Robin! So is Black Mask-- killed him this morning. And tonight the rest of them are goners too! Blowing them up to high heavens before their much-awaited descent into hell!”

Jason suddenly grabs Tim’s arm, “And you--” He stabs him with another tranquilizer but it’s not as strong as the last one. Tim’s mind and senses are still active but he can’t move any part of his body. Jason catches him and gently lays him on the ground. He starts stripping Tim’s clothes to dress him in his Robin costume.

“Tonight I’m going to prove to you that Bruce is no better than me. That when everything he loves is in danger right in front of him-- when he’s really forced to choose between saving his family and subjecting a murderer to death…” He pauses when he puts on the tunic over Tim’s chest.

“He’ll choose you.”

He finishes putting the costume on in silence. Then he props Tim up on his side and starts tying his legs and arms behind his back with some rope.

“When he realizes that I might actually kill you-- You know, after he sees me kill the Joker in front of him with this gun.” He takes it out of his holster and shows Tim that the magazine only has one bullet inside. “I’ll give it to him and he’ll shoot me in the face. Well… for your sake, I hope he does.”

“I hope he’s grown a pair and finally understands that you have to kill the bad guys or no one is safe.”

Jason turns to face Tim.

“If he doesn’t, this will definitely do the trick.” He moves toward the stage and lifts the curtain of the scaffolds to reveal the bomb. Tim’s pupils dilate at the sight of it.

“Don’t worry, Timmy. The bomb’s not real. Nice touch on the timer, huh? I bet it’ll knock all common sense right out of Bruce’s head. He won’t even know. He’ll act on instinct and save you.”

Jason walks back to Tim and places a strong plaster over his mouth.

“Finally, he’ll be able to save Robin.”

✧ ✧ ✧

When Bruce and Tim make it back to the safehouse, there’s tension between them. Tim doesn’t even look at you or Alfred before he shuts himself in his room. Bruce stands awkwardly by the door as he takes off his cowl.

None of you say anything. None of you know what to say. After Tim’s outburst, Bruce had quickly ran back into the club and only found the Joker’s corpse inside. They searched Arkham all night but they couldn’t find Jason. They couldn’t find Dick in the river either.

You finally force your legs off the couch and head off to your room. Bruce stops you. You turn to find him looking at you with a forlorn look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he says as he points to your nose. Then in a softer voice he says, “Thank you.”

You turn away from him. “What for? It was all fake anyway--”

“Thank you for choosing to save Tim.”

You flinch. You clench your fist and punch Bruce on the jaw. Immediately you start nursing your hand because it hurts you more than him. But your anger is still seeping over. “Of course I would save Tim-- Of course I would help you-- But you should have saved Jason, too!”

Bruce keeps quiet as he looks at you.

You know it’s unfair because if you had been in that situation, you don’t know what you would’ve done-- How could you save both Tim and Jason? But Bruce is Batman, and just like his children, you expect him to know.

Your eyes scrunch up and you purse your lips before you walk off into your own room.

When you close the door and turn on your lights, you jump at the sight of Tim sitting in the chair by your desk. He doesn’t say anything.

“What are you doing in here, Tim?”

Tim tenses at the irritation in your voice. You watch as his shoulders slump forward and he holds the back of his neck with one hand. His mask is off and his eyes are downcast.

“Dick’s… not here. And I need someone right now…” He extends a hand toward you. “For one night, can we pretend to be friends again?”

Your body suddenly relaxes and you finally see the hurt expression on his face. You walk forward and embrace Tim.

“I don’t want to pretend. I miss having you as a friend.”

Tim pauses before he hugs you back. When you break away, he waits for you to settle yourself at the foot of your bed before he starts talking.

“Thank you… For doing what Bruce couldn’t.” He looks at you and watches as you nurse your hand. There’s another pause before Tim speaks again.

“Jason was right. I still won’t agree to murder but… to know the truth that… if it came down to my life and a villain’s life-- I can’t count on Bruce.”

“That’s not true,” you interrupt softly. “Bruce saved you. He got you out of the building, even if it was a fake bomb.”

“And he left Jason to die. You would have died.” You stare at the ground and bring your knees close to your chest. When you watched the blinding light in the club go out, you braced yourself for the blast, waited for death again.

Tim rubs his head and messes up his hair before he sighs deeply. Thinking about everything is only messing with his head. He groans before he speaks again, irritated.

“He told me his plan. Jason wanted Bruce to save me. Wanted him to make the hard choices he didn’t make for Jason.”

“Jason wanted to make sure Robin doesn’t die again,” you whisper.

You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

“... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#ssa #Jason Todd #Red Hood #DC imagines #Death Do We Part #DC fanfiction #DC reader insert #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood imagine #Red Hood fanfiction #Red Hood x reader #watchtower-feed #atbucud

139 notes · View notes

canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 92 - Campfire Stories, Part 2

Added Note: This chapter was accidentally posted during #blackoutTuesday, and I tried to take it down before it was up for too long.

The cause hasn’t ended, we need to keep momentum going. Please donate to naacp.com/coronavirus to help in the fight for health equity during the current pandemic, especially as the people who are protesting police brutality are risking their health to do so.

________________________________

Okay, I promised I would post all the stories I received for this event, and I’m keeping my word... so we have Part 2 of the Campfire stories!

The one referenced at the opening of this chapter is an original of mine that I posted about a year ago, called “Lydia Woke Up”. Since it can be found through that link and on my blog, I didn’t want to include the whole story. Some of you have already read it, and I thought that would bog things down.

Also in this chapter, Grey’s story is adapted from this story on r/nosleep, only adjusted to fit the character and the story. Grey’s creator submitted the story, so I don’t want to take credit for something I didn’t write.

Finally, the story Tyche tells is one I have told before, on another blog. The response is here, verbatim, in Tyche’s story. However, the basis for the story is so common that it is classified as Aarne-Thompson type 706, a way of cataloguing folk tales. Rejectedprincesses.com has a version of this (Penta: The Handless Princess), and I originally read the Brother’s Grimm version. There is also a Xhosa variant that I highly recommend.

“...Finally, blessedly, Lydia didn’t wake up,” I finished, glancing around.

Charly was holding a hand to her mouth, and I couldn’t figure out if she was going to be sick or cry. Coffee was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Conor and Maverick were shaking themselves briskly, like they did when they woke up in the morning.

“That story is... disturbing,” Grey pronounced carefully.

Arthur shuddered and shook his head. “Somehow it’s even worse when you tell it, instead of just reading it.”

Tyche arched a brow at him. “Right?”

“What do you mean, instead of just reading it?” Charly’s question was only slightly muffled by her hand.

The arched brow switched targets, while one finger was flicked in my direction. “She wrote that story. Probably fifteen years ago?”

All eyes stared at me widely, except the two who already knew. “Wasn’t that a little...dark?” Conor asked.

I shrugged. “We’re telling scary stories, right?”

Both of my partners glanced at each other, and I knew I would be hearing about this later. Fortunately, I was saved when Grey spoke up. “I have a story I read once, in the Before.”

“Is it as… bad, as Sophie’s?”

They shook their head. “My fathers were really good friends with the family who lived closest to us, but one day the head of that household was offered a very lucrative job far away. Both of my fathers were upset, but my mothers agree that they recovered rather quickly. Within a month, the house was sold, and a new couple moved in. Mother Jacqueline said there was something off-putting about them.

‘They were constantly smiling,’ she always explained. ‘Every minute of the day, they had large, painful-looking smiles on their faces. And they were whiter than linen sheets, as though they never ventured outdoors.’

Father Jakob and Mother Sarah confirmed that Mother Jacqueline was not being judgemental, the new couple was odd in a way that disturbed all of my parents. However, my parents were very strict about manners and social graces, so they still attempted to build a positive social relationship with their new neighbors. Mother Hodaya made a basket of sweet pastries, and all my parents went to introduce themselves. The new neighbors answered the door shoulder-to-shoulder, with those strange smiles on their pale faces. My parents introduced themselves, but all agreed when they told the story that the couple would only say ‘We like you and you are welcome here always’.

My parents stayed for about an hour, and in that time the couple sat on their couch, shoulder-to-shoulder, still smiling, and would barely answer any questions. Not where they came from, not what they did for a living, just repeating ‘We like you and you are welcome here always.’ Eventually, my parents left, and the couple did not even escort them to the door.

The third day after the couple moved in is when strange events started occurring. First, they painted their house to resemble that of my parents - a light cream color with a thin blue stripe around it. ‘The next day, as I tended the landscaping, the husband was outdoors also tending his landscape,” Father Issac would explain. ‘Which would not be of note, ordinarily. However, the man was wearing the exact same clothing and sun hat as I wore. This troubled me deeply, so I addressed him directly. I was not aggressive or accusing, but I did make it clear that I felt there was no coincidence that this man had both painted his home to look like ours and clothed himself to look like me. But he only stared at me with that permanent smile.’

After that, my parents took it in turns to watch the couple more closely. Within weeks, the neighbors purchased a vehicle identical to that of my parents. This time, Mother Sarah and Father Jakob went to speak with the couple. They asked directly why the couple felt the need to copy our family. The couple would only say ‘We like our neighbors. We like you.’ At that time, Mother Sarah saw something that upset her and made excuses for them to leave. She would not explain why she was upset until they were back inside the house. All my parents sat together so Mother Sarah could tell them what she saw. Despite all her discipline, she was close to tears and clung tightly to Mother Hodaya and Mother Jacquelilne for comfort.

When she finally calmed down, she explained. ‘While we were at the home of the neighbors, I could see inside their bedroom.’ Mother Hodaya admonished her, but she continued. ‘They left the door open, almost as if they wanted me to see. And I am glad for my curiosity, as I saw something upsetting. Their bedroom… It looked identical to our own.’

All of my parents fell silent, only to be broken when Father Issac stood and left the room. He returned shortly after, with recording equipment, which he set up in their bedroom, facing their door. ‘The neighbors have never been invited into our home, nor have they been on the property that I am aware of.’

That night, none of my parents slept well, but they did eventually sleep. In the morning, they reviewed the recording. Surely enough, the neighbors somehow entered the house and came into my parents room. However, their smiles were gone Instead, their faces were contorted with murderous rage and hatred.

Father Jakob and Father Issac, not prone to violence in ordinary circumstances, both gathered baseball bats from my brothers’ rooms and stormed over to the house next door. They pounded on the door, but no one answered. For the sake of protecting our family, they eventually decided to break down the door.

The house was empty. Even though the car was still outside, everything in the house was packed neatly in boxes, stacked in the living room, but the couple was gone. They never came back for their possessions, or their car. My parents took the recording to the authorities, and they searched everywhere for the pair. They were only able to find out that the identities used were stolen from a couple in another country. My parents packed up my family and moved far, far away for peace of mind.”

Polite applause followed the end of Grey’s story. They stood up and gave a joking half-bow, smiling. “I am not certain of the veracity of the story, especially after so long since having read it.”

“You did a good job,” Maverick reassured her. “I liked it a lot. It reminded me of some of the stories my dad would tell me growing up, about demons and spirits that could steal your face.”

“They appear in most cultures,” Tyche added. “We’re very attached to our identities. They’re something we build around ourselves, how we control what people perceive of us. My identity is what makes me… well, me.” She held up a hand and looked at it thoughtfully. “Come to think of it, I have a story. A man - some say he is the devil, others say he is evil, or simply the evil that lives inside the father - passes the home of a farmer, or maybe a miller, one day. The man, maybe the devil, maybe his own lack of conscience, offers the homeowner either extreme wealth or just enough to get by, in exchange for what is behind the home.

Regardless of what the homeowner thought stood behind his home - whether it’s a cow, a pig, or a tree - it is his daughter. She is always bright, lovely, pure, clean. So wonderfully pure and clean that evil cannot redeem its prize.” Tyche spat the word pure like it was an obscenity, and I fought the urge to smile as she continued.

“So the daughter is forced to stand - maybe in a magic circle, maybe tied, but always bound - and not allowed to bathe. Forced to become unclean. However, her weeping washes her hands, and they remain pure and clean. So, the evil that pushes the hand of her father forces him to cut off her hands, thinking to remove the last clean part of her.

Of course, regardless of the evil, the reasoning, or the binding, she weeps over the wounds. Because she is still faultless by virtue of her sorrow at her circumstance - her lack of autonomy, her mutilation, the betrayal of her parent, she is in no way complicit, regardless - the evil still cannot touch her. Finally, it surrenders, leaving her unwhole.

She leaves, seeking her own fortune. Whether it is because she is cast out or because she was no longer wanted, betrayal is betrayal. Either way, she later meets a king, who finds her bright and lovely, and marries her. He always has new hands crafted for her, always - by might or magic - of silver.

But what happens between ‘happily ever’ and that ubiquitous 'after’?

She bears a child. Changeling or simply a girl, because of the child she is driven out by the king or his family. Regardless, she is again abandoned to cruel fate.

This time she happens upon a hut. An angel, a witch… It depends who is telling the story, but someone has mercy upon a single mother - the only true mercy in her life - and allows her to raise her child in the same humble manner she herself was raised. The child - changeling, or girl, or maybe both, it doesn’t matter - grows strong, and so does the mother’s hands. The silver hands fall away, always, replaced by her own that were lost to cruel whim.

After the child grows strong, they encounter the king in the wilderness. He follows this child - unwittingly his own - to their home. For healing, for succor, or simply for curiosity… The tales say any and all, but the reason doesn’t matter: after several years, the king sees his queen again. She is bright, and pure, and lovely, and clean, no matter what has happened in her life. And finally, she is whole. Whether by angel or witch - but never by man - she has found her wholeness.

The reunion scene happens - maybe he recognizes her, maybe she tells him. But here? Here, the tales always lie.

The tales say she always, always, forgives him, and 'ever after’ starts.”

As her singsong tone faded, everyone was left speechless. “I’ve heard that story before,” Conor spoke up, finally breaking the silence. “A different version, but the same tale.”

“It exists in most cultures, apparently,” Tyche clarified. “But her identity never changed, only how she looked on the outside.”

Almost everyone’s eyes threatened to pop out of their heads, except Arthur, who nodded. “That makes sense. It doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

“Believe me, it gets worse,” she sighed airly, without clarifying.

Simon lunged forward to grab another drink. “Nope. No thanks. Worse than that is something I can live without, if I have the choice.”

Grey blinked slowly before composing their face. “Be glad you have that choice.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #camping trip #found family #original sci fi #scary stories #aliens #apocalypse #science fiction #ghosts

57 notes · View notes

starlight-starwings · 5 years

Text

The Adventure Zone Season 2 quotes.

Unfortunately the quotes I saved between seasons 1 and 2 were lost because I got a new phone, so this is starting with episode 6 of Amnesty. If anyone has good quotes from the first arc, experimental arcs, ans the live shows during the experimental arcs, feel free to add or send them.

• - listen... ok, we could... agdgsbjsbuhah. how they eat and breathe... its just a show, just relax

- technically the .. waste water systems and the regular water systems of a city or not connected, and so like theres a lot of.. a lot of ways to figure it out. But yea, maybe you get the idea that this thing doesn't.. it can.. it.. is weird man...

• hey there adventure zone lovers. I dont know if that means you love adventure zone, or you... heh heh heh, ya know.

• - can you feel it?

- the idea of feeling is kinda weird-

- close your eyes and tell me if Im doing it

- well you already did- ok.

- close your eyes. Did I do it?

- you did it

- aaahh, I didnt

- ok. This is not a fun game for me

• - its our first day here!

- yeaa. Like... Let me ask you about the fucking... cast of Friends

- youre talking about Matt Leblanc and Matthew-

- Ah fuck.

- ah shit

- damn

- son of a b- he's good, he's real good

• - Don't I have to roll?

- we have not played dungeons and dragons in so fucking long!

- Here

- what are you rolling to do?!

• - tell me, is patience one of your more valued v-

- yes!

• Hey. No ideas bad. It just wasn't good.

• - I got eleven? You got any cash on you?

- uhh yea I happen to have nine bucks right here. Griffin cant prove otherwise.

• listen Pidgeon, here's the thing: I... love... to... practice fishing. But... the running water... frightens me. Its called hydrophobia. And I would love to practice my cast in a real water environment, where I can get in a large body of water, where I can guarantee that running water wont be a factor. And I would just love to practice my casting in a guaranteed still body. But here's the other thing! Sometimes if you do it in a lake, thats what youre thinking, a fish will bite it. And normally thats ideal but Im just trying to practice casting. If like.. when you dont want to catch em. Thats when they're biting. Ya know what I mean? I need a still body of water, that I can guarentee won't move, to practice my fishing casting.

• - Noooo

- are you sure?

- yeaaaaa

- Beause its our podcast!

- noooo

- we're actually doing our own podcast

• - Make uhhh.... check. You're gonna need to make a check for this one

- I got the gum. But I have the gum

- It's good gum; you'll have advantage on it.

• Cause I mean a 4 legged octopus is a horse.

• - What does control water do?

- Merle can- well gee wiz. It makes spaghetti! What do you think control water does?

- whats the fucking card say?

• Good you know my sister Jane was doing missionary work in Honduras and normally I would spend the uh, holidays with her. But uhh I had some friends come in from uhh out of town. And uhh... I wanted to communicare this to anybody who might be listening somehow, and I thought this might be a more organic way of uh, doing it.

• um... nah so ok right... so... the pizza hut sign... started to fall, cause of the weather. And he ran up there on a... fire escape, and tried to... push it? With a bat? Dammit. Nah. He just pushed it. And it fell. But then he fell. Cause he got shocked. I bet. Mmmm. I didn't see. I was in- Ah shit. Alright. Hey folk- hey guys. Rewind. I- hey guys rewind a second. Aahh fuck. I was inside I didn't see. Anything. I don't know. This man. I do know this man. His name- fuck. Alright. I'm met.. high net... here... Mmmm, alright. So, This man's is name is Ned. And he's uh.. friend of mine. And I dont know what the hell happened to him. But you know this guy. He's always getting into something. I don't know. I was in the building. I almost got killed by a pizza hut sign. I might be in shock.

• Write the fucking story with me! We are New York Times bestselling authors!

• - Ok. Go ahead. Uhh where are your wings? Obviously you can't see them right now because I'm wearing my disguise. Would you like to see my wings?

- Yes.

- I don't know you very well, so no, not- not quite yet.

• Aw Juno this is so embarrassing. Um last week, uhh, my truck got beat up, and I... I had to take it over to Whistle's. And he wa- while he was fixing it up I had to borrow yours to run out uh... to- to do a check on... a body of water. In... the... tree... zone... forest. Fuck. It was a body of water in the tree zone. And I had to check on it in your car. And when I- I drove your car, without asking, and... I think I left my... pants? No. Wallet? Money. I left my wallet in your truck and I was wondering if you could go look for it real quick.

• - a goat..

-well. No its.. i mean you look at the legs you can kinda see... yea...

- its pan!

- no were not crossing over

- there no crossover here sir. No.

• - oh thats easy. All you have to do is press that red button right there.

- and what will that do?

- itll give you the key sphere

- well hold on....

- merle casts zone of truth!

- so what happens when I press that button?

- the red button? Itll give you the key sphere

- what will the blue button do?

- it'll kill ya

- what would the other frankenstein tell us?

- well my companion over there always lies. He'll tell ya to hit the blue button.

- oh okay. Its kinda one of those- ya know what Im gonna check his flavor real quick

- ok.

- I flip the lever

- No that'll kill me!

- the other Frankenstein sits up and says oh hey! Im Frankenstein. A lot of people say Im Frankenstein's monster but-

- yea yea yea. Ok we get it. Uh is this Frankenstein in the zone as well?

- uh yea.

- These buttons over here what will the red one do?

- oh the red one? Its the key sphere one. I would've told you its the blue one.

- ok I slam-

- No listen. Listen. No listen. Listen listen listen. Hey. Stop wait! Im the liar Frankenstein.

- I hit the red button.

• - Merle casts shield of faith

- ok. On whom?

-um.. it surrounds a creature of my choice

- yeap. So..

- time to make that choice

- that is kinda the question I asked

• - are you a grief counselor?

- yea you a grief counselor?

- I do have some counseling experience, um, but right now think of me more as your friend.

- I could really use a grief counselor I think more than a friend at the moment. I got-

- ok then Im a grief counselor, yes.

• - and Im gonna roll 2 d6... god almighty... hatchy matchy...

- howd you do, Justin?

- Well I got a 4 on that one, Trav. Which is, what we call in the biz, we call that bad. That is less than ideal.

• A charisma check. Okay. Hahahaha! That's a threeee.

• I know how you young people talk: It was rad.

• hey! Hey man fucking bigfoots behind you dude, drive! Jesus Christ! Hey Ive been skitching this whole time brother, Im really sorry but you gotta fucking drive right now dude, come on! Im vulnerable as hell! Come on! Dont make me fight bigfoot, I want thinking through this shit, go! Im not gonna fucking fight bigfoot.

• No, you know what- I'm gon- ya know what? It's fine. Ya know what? Its fine. Its fine. Im gonna- it- thisll be fine. Thisll actually be fine. Uhhh Im gonna cast lightning bolt on the tank. I thought about it, thisll be fine.

• - dont worry, the rest of us will take care of this. I think the best plan is if the three of you go up the spire to face the final confrontation alone

- why is that the best plan??

- cause theres exactly enough people outside- robots outside, that we'll need all of the army...

- but then why dont we wait and help you kill all of the robots?

- we'll kill them and then we'll all go up together

- theres no time!

- what are you talking about were just fighting a bat- theres plenty of time

- we got a whole other act!

- huurrryy

- okay we'll hurry, yes fine, yes.

- good luck

- well now dont say that! You said to go on ahead!

- I'll remember you

- this passive aggressive stuff...

- youre sending mixed signals. Should we stay and-

- the doors that ive just invented shut behind you.

• Okay uh, Hollis. Let me ask you something: Okay, on the other side of this portal- im gonna lay it out for you. Alright. Are you ready? One hundred percent honesty. On the other side of this portal is another world. Just like, the same scope and size of ours, with a population of people, and... just like us. People just like us. Right? And... think about this. In... lets say West Virginia alone, not even the whole world, the whole earth, west Virginia alone, right. How many people do you think there is, a per capita ratio, thats murderers to just regular people? Right? So what if somebody said "there are murderers in west Virginia, so we're gonna march into west Virginia and kill everyone there, cause they might be murderers." Right so what if the only thing you knew about west Virginia is that some murderers came from here? And you said "so let's just go in and wipe everone out"? You would come in and wipe out the whole state, and murder innocent people, just in case they might be murderers. What does that make you, Hollis?

• - Aubrey what... what are you?

- Oh I'm bisexual.

- Do all of bisexuals have this power?

- Yes.

• - uh lets jump right in

- im in. Already. I actually got in before you did. Just to make sure the water was okay.

- oh how is it? Hows the scene doing?

- the scene is good. Im already in it, but because the narrator has not joined us we are locked in... stasis. We are characters in search of an author as it were, in the pernella play.

- so theyve been there for 2 weeks? Or whats up?

- theyve been there for 2 weeks. Locked in perfect stasis, until time itself should turn its gaze upon us and let us resume our merry roles in this play called existence.

• - did you get the part where we're gonna find the quail and just crush its heart or whatever?

- its uh- its- it- its quell

- yea thats what I said, quail

- you said quail like a big ol bird

- wait what are you saying?

- yea quail

- no quell

- quell?

- quell

- quail?

- quell

- kwäil?

- listen- listen kwaiell

- quail!

- you said quail. Its quell

- the mothman uh, grabs your wrist duck and looks at the watch on it and says 'boy howdy I sure hope that those arent several minutes that we will need to uh prevent the apocalypse. Because they are gone now.

• - Ju- Ju- wait a minute. Juno? Juno Devine?

- yes shes-

- Juno Devine is- shes in the forest service? (Switches to character voice) Ahh-ha! Well that makes a lot of sense! She- she loved the forest. That- ahh...

- that is... did you just do a player to character cross-fade?

- that was so fucking wild Ive never seen anything like that on this podcast

- that melted my brain

- it was like Clint started the sentence, and then Thacker ended the sentence

• I can roleplay a gay elf with magical powers. I dont think I could roleplay someone who likes beef jerky

• We've all been trying to help people right? And sometimes you fuck up. Sometimes people get hurt, sometimes you can't- sometimes you act and you do things, and you're wrong. And if you let the fact that you fucked up stop you from trying to help again, thats... thats the real mistake. Ive fucked up so many times. You cant be afraid to help. Because yea, you might hurt. But you also might help. You just have to keep helping. Dont be afraid. Im not.

• - query: are the extraterrestrial invaders engaging in deception? 89.84% affirm

- now listen. You all don't know Duck like I do. Believe me, he can not engage in deception to save his life.

- he's also an employee of the federal government!

- it skyrockets up to 98.64%

• It makes sense right? Great power; great responsibility. But you know what people forget? Is that the green goblin dosen't swing up to your door everyday and blow your whole life away and in one moment you have to figure out what to do, ya know? The responsibility is every day. Its every moment, and it's- every time I pick one of those saplings up and I put it in the ground, and pat the ground around it, and I pour water on it, and I think about our childrens childrens childrens children will breathe the air that this thing makes, and Minerva, thats power. Thats my responsibility. I dont have to fight no more. I did it. And now Im gonna grow.

#the adventure zone amnesty #mcelroy brothers #podcasts #my post #quotes

8 notes · View notes

crashdevlin · 6 years

Text

Zed Word: Ch. 4 Favorite

Zed Word Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3. This was inspired by a series of tweets between Jeffery Dean Morgan and Jensen Ackles…. Sam and Dean never found John, but everything went the same way anyway until Season 5. Adam never said ‘yes’ to Michael. The fight at Stull Cemetery never happened but Lucifer (jumping from vessel to vessel ‘cause Sam wouldn’t say ‘yes’) and Pestilence managed to infect everyone with Croatoan, turning everyone into zombies when they die. The boys have traveled the apocalyptic landscape killing zombies and saving people ever since.

Summary: Reader has been living in Alexandria since Daryl saved her life. When she ventures out of town for the first time in months, Sam and Dean save her life and she takes them back to Alexandria, a town on edge since Negan showed up. Dean takes an instant interest in the woman, and when Negan shows up again, he does, too.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Negan x Reader

Story Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, Non-con/dub-con, unprotected sex of a forced nature, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, PTSD, *THIS IS A DARK FIC*

Chapter Warnings: Non-con/dub-con sex, coercion, NSFW, 18 and over

Sam watched from the stairs as Dean and Maggie went over maps. It had ceased to be about tracking their father down and quickly become about finding the girl. Dean hadn't mentioned John since they started plotting locations and changed the topic as soon as anyone else brought him up. Sam was certain that it wasn't John. He remembered him, what an asshole he'd been. Pushy, demanding, obsessive, but not insane. He couldn't even imagine that monster the Alexandrians had described was actually the man who'd taught him how to shoot, how to hunt, how to help people. How to save people. No way in Hell does John Winchester murder people with a baseball bat and kidnap women to rape them.

A demon would. A shifter would. Almost any sort of monster. But not John. Sam stood and grabbed his brother's attention. Dean followed him into the front yard. "Dean... What if they're dead? We have to consider what we'll do in that situation."

"Y/n's not dead." Dean dismissed.

"Dean... that demon is obviously not taking any shit. If she fought him-"

"She didn't." Dean was certain.

"How can you know that?"

"Because that's why Dad took her! She's soft." He spat out, angrily. He sighed, heavily, looking around the green yards which matched poorly with the horrible reality of the situation. "She's sweet, innocent. Southern Bella in there said it, Sammy, she's a hider. She's never hurt another human being, never even put down a zombie. She doesn't have it in her. She won't fight Negan. She'll go along with whatever he says because that's how she'll survive. I just hope we can get to her before he does something that scars her for life."

Sam nodded. "You guys getting anywhere? The maps?"

Dean nodded. "We won't know anything 'til we check it out, but... Maybe getting somewhere."

Sam nodded. It wasn't hard to see why Dean was so obsessed with getting y/n back. They'd come across quite a few women as attractive as her since Lucifer unleashed the apocalypse, (admittedly fewer and fewer as the years passed) but none who'd survived purely on their wits and determination. Sam was impressed that she'd never taken out a zombie and it bolstered his faith in her survival skills, but... demons were vastly different from zombies. Zombies were slow and predictable, only really a problem in large groups. A single demon, however...

Sam sighed and patted his brother's shoulder. "I'm hungry. See if I can't run down some food."

"Ask Eric if there's any spaghetti sauce left. I'll eat it straight if there's no pasta." Dean said, before hopping up the porch stairs to reenter the house.

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

You stayed in your 'room', watching peoples' movements and analyzing the building for hours before you left, new shoes insulating your feet from the cold concrete. You moved around the main building to the outside, checking every exit, committing every face to memory, making special note of which men were Negan's special guys. Which men were Negan. You spoke to a few people, quiet ones who seemed like they were just trying to survive. On the third day of your 'freedom', the fat man approached you. "Show dog, Negan wants you. Said to hit a shower, then come see him."

You fought to not show the cringe that went through you. "Only Negan calls me that, fat-ass." You said, clinging to a false bravado.

"It's 'Fat Joey', and I am Negan."

"Yeah, well, I apparently belong to Negan... but I don't belong to you, Fat Joey. So obviously, you're not Negan enough." You said, grabbing a pair of clean jeans and a clean white v-neck shirt and pushing past the man to go shower. The water was cold; hot water being a luxury for those who didn't work for points. You could've gone to the other showers but you heeded Dwight's advice about Negan's other women.

Your mind poured over the information you'd gained from your fellow meek Sanctuary dwellers. Negan wasn't as bad as he seemed. He saved them. The people who were originally here, they were dying and Negan and Lucille saved them. That's why he and his men were Saviors. Negan was a veteran, a Marine. Everything he did, it was for the good of his people. He had to keep his people alive first and, like it or not, you were one of his now. Just do what you're told, keep your head down, kneel when you see the man... become his favorite...

As you pulled a two blade, disposable razor up your leg, you imagined how you would've have reacted to this situation before everything went to shit. You were hit on by a lot of older men, mostly doctors who were old enough to need those little blue pills themselves, when you were a pharma rep, but none like Negan. Physically, the man was attractive in much the same way Dean was. Nice muscles, pretty eyes, a beautiful (if not completely psychotic) smile and his cock wasn't bad, not that you had a lot of reference. If you hadn't known he was insane, you were certain you wouldn't have any trouble with the man.

And that's what you clung to as you dried yourself off with your one allotted towel and put on your simple clothing choice, not bothering with a bra or panties. 'Every villain is a hero in his own mind'. Negan is a savior and not an evil man. He's just a man trying to do right by his people. A man, maybe driven a little mad by the power of ruling a group. It's one of the reasons why you traveled alone for so long.

You found yourself in front of one of Negan's rooms, your damp hair clinging to the back of your shirt. It wasn't where he slept, but it was where he entertained himself, where you would entertain him. You took a deep breath. You knew what was coming but you weren't sure exactly how. You knocked at the door, lightly, then dropped to one knee as you heard him approach the door. He chuckled when he opened it. "You learn fast, don't'cha? Stand up. Get in here."

Your eyes fell on the bed first, a mattress with pillows and a comforter, jacked up by several stacks of blond pallets. Your eyes then searched the room for Lucille. As Negan closed the door, you found her, tucked behind a television set playing a VHS of 'Cheers'. You breathed a sigh of relief. He was never without her, but at least the weapon was away from arms reach. "Want something to drink? A little Hunter's Helper?" He offered, picking up a bottle of whiskey from the counter. You nodded, hopefully not too eagerly, excited to have something to dull your senses. Even if it was Wild Turkey 101.

You gave a tight smile as he handed you a glass half-full and you took a gulp as you looked at the TV. "I used to watch this on 'Nick at Night' when I was a kid."

Negan sat in the recliner, but didn't look at the show. He focused on you, even as he took his own mouthful of liquor. "How do you like my Sanctuary?"

You bit the inside of your lip, taking a moment before answering. "It's not bad. I've lived worse places. My dorm at college was chaos, like an all-girl 'Lord of the Flies' without the pigs to hunt." You took another drink of whiskey, which burned the inside of your lip, where you'd apparently broken the skin. "You run a tight ship, which makes sense, I guess, since you used to be a Marine. That where you got the skills to keep people safe from walkers?"

"Not even close." He sat forward in his seat. "But it's not the zombies that are the problem. Zombies are useful. They guard our gates. It's people. People are the problem. I run a tight ship because I can tell which problems are fixable... and which problems get to guard the gate."

A copper taste brought your attention to your lip, which you'd taken to biting again. You took another drink, then continued on your 'military' line of questioning. "You know I, uh, I grew up in an Air Force town."

"Pussies." He interjected, somehow leaning forward more.

You forced a chuckle. "Yeah. You're right. But small town... Service was pretty much the only way out. Most of my friends went Army. Hoo-ah."

"This where you tell me you've decided to give me the benefit of the doubt due to my service to a now-nonexistent country about 20 years before you were born?"

"No, sir." You replied, squaring your shoulders. "It's where I tell you that Abraham Ford was Army and he'd be cursin' up a storm if he knew a fuckin' jarhead put him down."

He laughed, rather than make an angry move for Lucille as you'd feared he might. He stood, slowly, taking his glass over to the counter to pour more Wild Turkey. Then, he returned to his line of questioning. "You ever killed anybody?"

"No." You answered, simply, your tongue darting out to mess with the bite inside your mouth.

"You must've made it inside the walls of Alexandria fucking quick if you never saw any truly desperate people."

"I saw plenty of desperate people. They just never saw me." You set your glass next to the TV and leaned against the TV stand. "Daryl brought me into Alexandria just a couple months before any of us heard your name."

"You survived by hiding? What, from everyone? How'd Daryl get his hands on ya?" He leaned against the counter, mimicking your stance.

"Took a wrong turn in Albuquerque, wound up trapped in some warehouse in West Virginia. Ghouls were chasing me, I fell through a rotted staircase into this basement electrical closet. Broke my leg, cracked my skull. I laid in that basement for two days, completely certain I was dead. I mean, the barricade I put at the door was sure to fail before I dehydrated to death. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. I was pretty gone when Daryl busted through my barricade and came to find me. He said he knew I was there 'cause the walkers were acting like hound dogs or coon dogs or... something 'had a raccoon treed'. He put me on the front of his bike, tied me to his waist and hauled ass back to Alexandria. Denise set my leg, let the pressure out of my head and I was fine to meet new people for the first time in years."

"And then I showed up and started killin' 'em."

You shook your head. "We killed your men first." You shrugged. "They deserved it. Had to know folks would fight back when you try to take their shit."

"Not their shit, anymore. It's mine."

"Yeah, now, 'cause you broke Rick, but when Daryl blew up your men with a rocket launcher, that rocket launcher was Abraham's."

He laughed. "Rocket launcher! Fucking crazy as fuck."

You chuckled, relaxing a bit. Now that the liquor had started to warm you, he didn't seem so menacing, anymore. "Yeah... That was pretty fucking crazy."

"So, where were you heading in West Virginia?" He picked his glass up and began to drink again.

"Nowhere. Back then, I kinda just wanted to keep moving. Staying in one place just seemed like a bad idea. My parents died last time I tried to make a home someplace. What made you stay here?"

"Seemed as good a place as any. And these people needed my help. That's what I did back then, I helped people."

"And now?"

"Now, I help me." He pushed away from the counter, sliding his glass next to the bottle as he moved toward you. "I take what I want, when I want because that's how the world works now. The guy who can put down a herd of zombies with a baseball bat and some big cajones, he gets everything he's ever desired."

"Except his dead wife back." You whispered as he stopped in front of you.

"Yeah. Except for that."

"What was her name?" You asked, shaking a bit as he reached over and grabbed a piece of your hair, still damp from your shower.

"Mary."

"Were you together long? You said she died in '83?"

"I don't wanna talk about my wife. The dead one or the new one."

"Okay. I just... with Sherry, I know who I'm up against. I was just trying to get a feel for... what kind of competition I've got from the memory of a ghost." You reasoned. You lied. In fact, you were hoping that thinking of his first wife would turn him off from his plans for you.

"You vying to be Wife #3?" He ran his hand down the front of your v-neck, pulling the front hem up to expose your breasts.

"I have no delusions about my reason for being here, Negan. I-I'm here for just one thing and I can be the one you like most or... or I can look forward to wa-watching the gate." You covered.

"You're cute when you lie." He pulled the shirt over your head, twisting the fabric when it got to your wrists and holding your arms, tangled in white cotton, above your head. "You were trying to use Mary against me. Smart move. You know, I'm impressed by the manipulation..." You tried to look down, away from him, but his left hand grabbed your chin and forced you to look at his face. "...and how you picked up on the importance of Mary from, what, two mentions of her. I toss her memory around so people think I don't give a fuck. How'd you know?"

"It was a guess." You whispered.

"Lie." His left hand dropped to your hip, the thumb digging into your muscle, putting pressure on a sensitive point just above where your jeans sat. It caused your knee to buckle but he held you up by your wrists.

"Your eyes!" You squealed, shifting as much weight to your good leg as you could. "When you first mentioned her, the 'Doe-eyes' thing, you smiled, but not with your eyes. Your eyes were sad." You responded, quickly.

He ceased the pressure, but kept his hand in place, thumb tapping the spot which was sure to be bruised in a couple hours. "Damn. Would've been great at the investigation side, if the world hadn't ended." He mumbled to himself before untangling the shirt from your wrists and pulling it completely away from you. "She was beautiful, had a tough attitude, but motherhood softened her like butter. She was too good for me, even back when I was a good man." He dropped the shirt to the floor at your feet and let your arms drop to your sides.

"You... you could be good..." You whispered as he unbuttoned your jeans.

"You're not here to preach at me. I'm fine with the man I am, now. I have fun, so... you just need to get on board."

"I am. I'm on board with whatever you want of me. I, I want to be."

"I want you on the bed." He dropped your jeans to your feet and you reflexively stepped out of them as he pulled you toward the mattress. He lifted you, tossing you a short distance to the middle of the bed, your head somehow landing right below the pillows. He grabbed your ankle and rubbed a rough thumb across your shin. "You shaved for me. Even trimmed that pretty bush. Oh, and that gorgeous pink blush all the way down to your tits. Hard bitches don't blush." You closed your eyes, feeling the heat of that blush in your cheeks. His hand continued its journey up your right leg stopping at an inch-long, thick white scar on the outside of your calf. "Looks like a stab wound." He looked up at you as he ran his thumb up and down the small patch of discoloration.

"Um, there was a, uh, trap somebody set up in the woods in Alabama, where they sharpened all the thick twigs on a low-hanging branch and bend it back, tie it off. Mom walked into it, I pushed her out of the way, got a pointy twig in my leg for the trouble."

His hand moved up to your abs, where a thin, jagged scar ran from your belly button to just below the pressure point Negan had jammed his thumb into. "And this one?"

You chuckled, tightly. "Barbed wire fence got me. I wasn't willing to sacrifice my jacket to hold the wire down, so I tried to just vault over it... I'm lucky I was up on my tetanus booster. It could've been bad."

"No bullet wounds, no knife scars. Look at you. Hell, the only bruises on you are the ones I put there. You are near mint condition." He scoffed, but not derisively. He seemed almost awed by you. "Even nearly a virgin. There's that blush again." He slid his hand up, between the valley of your breasts, to lay across your collarbone. "You are not to move. This will be far less fun for you if I have to tie you down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, making sure not to move your head.

"Those manners..." He mumbled, before bracing his left arm on the mattress and vaulting his fully clothed and booted body onto the bed, straddling your nude form. He looked you over, before grabbing your hands and pulling them above your head. He didn't have to tell you not to move them from the pillow. You entwined your fingers together as he leaned over you and brought your earlobe between his lips, scraping his teeth across the soft skin. It wasn't until he'd kissed, licked and nipped from your ear to the crook of your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as his hands dragged up and down your arms, that it dawned on you that it felt good. Why would he want you to feel good?

The question disintegrated in your head as he moved down your body to catch your left nipple between his lips. Your right breast came under attack from his left hand, grabbing it lightly and rolling it under his palm. You wiggled under the weight of his body, unable to prevent your body's search for friction. His ministrations stopped immediately, as he pulled back and looked down at you. "What'd I say?"

"I'm sorry. I, I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'll try harder." You were breathless.

"Aw. Am I neglecting something?" He asked, bringing his right knee between your legs and rubbing his jean-clad knee against your mound. You moaned, your hands clenched together while you tried to remind yourself not to move, not to rub yourself against the man. "What do you want me to do to you?"

You swallowed, unable to think clearly. "Whatever you want."

"Good answer." He dipped his head down to lick at your neck, his knee rubbing persistent pressure in between your thighs. He pulled it away, moving down your body, trailing kisses across your skin. He ran his tongue across the barbed wire scar, then dipped it into the juncture where your leg and hip meet. You jumped, his tongue suddenly drawing circles around your clit, but he didn't stop to reprimand you this time, instead putting his right hand on your abs to hold you down as he began to lick deliberate, rough stripes from your opening to your clit.

"Oh, god." You whined, squirming under his strong grip as the middle finger of his left hand sunk easily into you. As he added his first finger, you brought your hands down to cover your eyes, in an mad attempt to control something. With his fingers fucking you with expert precision and his mouth making obscene slurping noises against your womanhood, it was easy to forget yourself. Forget what brought you to the Sanctuary, forget the demeaning way he'd treated you since you got here, forget anything and everything except the man between your thighs, worshipping you with his mouth. As your orgasm built inside of you, it just didn't seem to matter.

It crashed over you, tendrils of pleasure snaking across your body as you tried to not hyperventilate. He slid away again, dropping off the bed and toeing his boots off as you nervously moved your hands back to the pillow. He dropped his jacket to the ground, followed by his shirt and pants, then crawled onto the bed, his erection dragging along the comforter beneath you. He looked down at you, before pressing a bruising, possessive kiss on your lips. "You don't have to worry. I already like you better than the others."

The noise you made as his cock found your entrance and quickly sunk into you, sliding in easily amongst the lubrication your body provided and his own saliva, was somewhere between a moan and a squeal. There was pain, of course. He was bigger than anything you'd had, even your old toys, definitely bigger than those two fingers he'd just had in you. He'd given you no time to adjust before slamming balls deep, so there was definitely pain.

But pain is fleeting and it was quickly dominated by the wholy unique feeling of fullness. "Shit!" He groaned. "Do that again."

"What?" You hadn't realized you'd done anything.

"That clenching, kegel thing you just did."

"Oh." You breathed out, before repeating the action.

"Ooh. Goddamn, if more women did that, we'd have no problem getting the population back." He reached down and hooked your legs behind his back, then took each of your hands in his, rubbing a thumb over each palm. "Now, you put these hands wherever you need to. You move however you want. Participation is not only encouraged, I'd say it's damn near required, at this point."

You nodded, tightening your legs around him and putting your hands on his shoulders. He put his left hand on your hip and put the other on mattress, next to your head for support. He gave you another moment to get ready, then, he began to move.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt. His girth rubbed against the sensitive walls inside you, his cock head reaching your cervix with every motion. You moaned, your hands clutching at his neck and back. "Oh, my God!"

"You're a fuckin' dream, y/n." He grunted into your ear as he fucked you into the mattress. "So hot. So wet. So fucking pretty and pure." He pulled out, unhitching your legs and flipping you onto your stomach with ease. He grabbed your hips and pulled you up onto your hands and knees. "And you're mine."

You whimpered as he grabbed your hair and slammed back into you. "Yes." You whispered, your neck craning as he used your hair as leverage.

"What?" He demanded, pounding into you, his balls slapping against you in a quick rhythm.

"Yes! I'm yours. Negan, God... Yours."

"Damn straight." He grunted as he reached around to move his fingers, roughly across your clit. Your arms gave out as another orgasm slammed into your nerves, your head meeting the mattress. Negan continued to fuck you, picking up speed and pounding your face into the comforter. His hand tightened in your hair as he gave several more pumps, then stilled as his cock spilled inside of you, twitching happily within your walls.

He pulled out and collapsed to the bed next to you, both of you breathing heavily. "So..." He started, sliding his arm around you and turning you to lay your head on his chest. "Best you ever had?"

"Definitely." You whispered.

"Aren't you glad you got my attention?"

"Yes, sir." You weren't. Definitely rather be home in Alexandria, but... It could be worse. He could be more horrid. And that was a fairly amazing... workout session.

"I like that respect, y/n, but..." He sighed, deeply, satisfaction emanating from him. "As long as we're alone and I'm in a good fuckin' mood, I won't call you 'bitch' or a show dog name... and you can call me 'John'."

"Thank you." You relaxed against his chest.

"That was a workout. We're gonna need a nap before we get to work."

"Work?"

"Oh, sweetheart. Can't have my favorite girl walking around unable to defend herself. Hiding only gets you so far, y/n."

You sat up a little and looked down at him. "You're going to, what, teach me to fight? Aren't... Aren't you concerned I might-"

"Fight back against me? No. I'm not gonna teach you enough to kill me. And I'm certain that you don't hate me near as much as you did when you walked in here. Right?"

"Right." You responded, lying your head on his chest again and sighed. "You seem to be right a lot of the time, John." You experimented with his first name. It definitely didn't have the same fear factor as 'Negan', but neither did the man you were lying with.

"I try." He wrapped his arm around you tighter and adjusted the pillow under his head with the other hand. "Get some rest, gorgeous."

#fanfic #reader-insert #spn fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #crossover #dean/reader #negan/reader #non-con #kidnapping #darkfic

43 notes · View notes

echoes-of-the-clockwork · 6 years

Text

Falcon of Detroit (DBH Connor Fanfiction) Chapter Two

~Phoebe's POV~

"This is the fifth damn bar! He better be here!" I shout as I exit my car with Connor close behind.

"We will find him, Phoebe. Please, calm down," Connor said.

"I am calm!" I bellow. When I realized I was still shouting, I sigh and calm myself. "Sorry, you're right. Let's just check this bar quickly."

As I was about to open the door, I realized androids weren't welcomed. Connor exchanged a glance with me before I grabbed his hand and dragged him inside with me, ignoring the "No Androids Allowed" sign. Inside, I spotted Hank right away. "There you are!" I stomped over to him and snatched the glass of scotch from his hand.

"Hey, give me back my damn booze!" Hank tries to seize the glass back, but I pull it out of his reach.

"We've been bar-to-bar trying to find your drunken ass!"

"We were lucky enough to find you at the fifth bar," Connor adds.

Hank looks over at the android and points at him. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Connor is our new partner. Our duo has turned into a trio," I smile, smacking his hand down. "It's not nice to point, Hank."

"We don't need help from a shitty piece of plastic!" The man snarls. "We've been fine up to this point!"

I was aware what happened to Hank's son, Cole, and knew why he abhorred androids with every fiber of his being. But, it still doesn't give him the excuse to think all androids are bad. "He helped me save a man from a rogue today. If he wasn't there, I'd still be stuck at the crime scene."

"Speaking of that, did you catch the shitty rogue?"

"No, but we'll find his trail soon enough with help from Connor. Now, play nice and finish your drink. Our new friend received a homicide report in the car and Captain Fowler wants the three of us on the scene ASAP."

"Fine, just let me finish my drink," Hank sighs, chugging down the remainder of his scotch. I felt my own throat burn at the sight of him downing the glass in one gulp. The man placed the cup down and stood up. "Let's get this over with."

Leaving the bar, Connor decided to tag along with Hank to direct him to the address. I smirked as I could see agitation in the Lieutenant's eyes continuing to rise and rise as he got behind the wheel. I got in my car with a snicker and drove to the scene.

Arriving, I saw Hank get out of his car, but Connor didn't budge. "Ugh, Hank..." I grumble. I exit my car and walk over to the passenger's side of the old vehicle in front of me. I opened the door and let Connor out of the car. "Sorry 'bout him. Like I said: he's not fond of androids."

"Thank you, Phoebe."

I close the door and we follow after Hank. When I crossed the holographic tape, one of the officers refused to let Connor pass. "He's with me," I call out. Reluctantly, the officer listens and lets Connor through.

"You don't talk, you don't touch anything, and you stay outta our way, got it?" Hank asked, a scowl present on his face.

"Got it," Connor simply replied.

As Hank was greeted by another officer, I leaned over to the android and whispered to him. "Don't listen to crankypants over there. You already helped me tremendously earlier today. Just be yourself." I know he wasn't human, but I hope he understood my words. I patted him on the back gently and entered the rickety and molded house.

"The victim's name's Carlos Ortiz. He has a record for theft and aggravated assault," I heard the officer explain as soon as the foul odor slaughtered my nose. I winced at the stench and entered the living room. "Stayed inside most of the time, they hardly ever saw him."

"Well, that gives us a small list of possible suspects," I spoke up.

"Detective Falcon, I've heard you're the best detective in all of Detroit. Pleasure to meet the famous Falcon," the officer greets.

"The pleasure's all mine. What else do you know about the body?"

"I'd say he's been there for a good three weeks. We'll know more when the coroner gets here." He then turns and looks at something on the floor. "There's a kitchen knife over here. Probably the murder weapon."

"Any sign of a break-in?" Hank asked, accepting a light from the officer to examine the body closer.

"The landlord said the front door was locked from the inside, all the windows were boarded up. The killer must've gone out the back way."

"Or they're still here. It's possible Mr. Ortiz knew our suspect and let him in willingly. Either that, or the killer was already living here with him," I stated.

"You suggesting the killer is his android, Phee?" Hank asked.

"Exactly, but we won't know for sure until we find it. Let's get searching."

"I gotta get some air. Make yourself at home. I'll be outside if you need me," the officer said as he left. Connor stood next to me as I examined what was written over the dead body in blood.

I AM ALIVE

"The font is neat and constant. Definitely not human."

"The question we should be asking is where the suspect is," Connor said. He then walked over to the knife, kneeled down, and took a sample of the blood.

"Err, Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" Hank asked, disgust written all over his face.

"I'm analyzing the blood. I can check samples in real time," Connor answers with his usual stoic expression. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

I placed a hand over my mouth to keep myself from bursting out with laughter as I watched the exchange. Hank's scrunched up expression remained. "Okay, just... don't... put anymore evidence in your mouth, you got it?"

"Got it," the android responds.

"Fucking hell, I can't believe this shit..."

A snort slipped and I quickly pressed my hand tighter against my mouth. Hank and Connor turned to me and I sucked in my cheeks to keep the laughter at bay. "Sorry. It's kinda stuffy in here."

"Whatever you say, Phee," Hank chuckled lightly.

I cleared my throat and headed into the kitchen. A chair was tipped over and I saw where the knife once was. What caught my attention was the metal bat lying on the floor. Connor followed me and scanned the baseball equipment. "Fingerprints can be found on the handle."

"Which means Mr. Ortiz used it. But, was it for self-defense or to assault the suspect? It's highly possible our suspect was a victim of our rigor mortis pal in the living room. Knowing deviant behavior, I know abuse is a common trigger in androids to become deviant. This wouldn't be my first case on the matter."

"I believe you're right, Phoebe. There are traces of thirium on the bat, as well," Connor stated.

"I'm gonna check the backdoor. You check the bathroom down the hall." I headed to the backdoor where a couple of officers were standing. "Any clues?" I ask them.

"Nothing, Detective Falcon. If there were footprints, they've been washed away in the downpour," Officer Hans answered.

"That only means two things: either the trail has gone cold or the suspect never left. Keep searching the house."

"But we've searched the entire house, Detective. There's no basement, either," Officer Brown states.

"Is there an attic?" I question. The officers exchanged glances and I knew from the looks on their faces that they hadn't checked for one. I rolled my eyes and searched the house for any access points in the ceiling. When I returned to the kitchen, I saw Connor was carrying a chair with him. "Where are you going with that chair, Connor?"

"The attic. There's an access point near the bathroom." He sets the chair under the entrance to the attic and steps up onto the seat. He moves the piece of wood out of the way and climbs up.

"Be careful," I warn. "If the suspect is up there, they might be armed."

"I will be fine, Phoebe," Connor said, sending me a smile. I bit my bottom lip as I watched him disappear into the attic. Hank stood beside me as we waited in silence. The sound of scuffling could be heard and we knew something was wrong. I tried to go after the android, but Hank held me at bay. Then, we heard Connor shout. "It's here, Lieutenant! Detective!"

"Guess you were right, Phee, as always," Hank comments.

"I wasn't able to confirm anything without Connor," I honestly state.

Hank rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. You don't need that damn machine around."

"Be nice to him, Hank. He helped me name three faceless men today who, not to mention, had their fingerprints burned off with hydrochloric acid. We couldn't even get damn dental records because the rogue dumped acid in their mouths! Also, we were able to save someone who was the rogue's next target."

"Only known him for a day and already defending him?"

"Hey, you would, too, if he helped find a lead when the trail was completely cold! Ten victims and none have been served justice just because we couldn't find a connection between them because of their missing faces and fingerprints. He's helped me more in an hour than that walking piece-of-shit Gavin has in a year!"

"That, I agree on," Hank sighed.

Connor exited the attic during the midst of our conversation with the deviant in custody. Officer Hans shuffles over and handcuffs the android and escorts him to his cruiser. "Guess this case is wrapped up," Hank said.

"Not until we figure out why the deviant killed Mr. Ortiz. We've got some interrogating to do back at the station," I said.

"Whoa, hold on! You've been working since eight this morning. I think you should head home and get some rest. Leave the interrogating to us," Hank stated.

"The Lieutenant is correct, Phoebe. You are showing signs of exhaustion," Connor exclaims.

"Did you scan me?" I inquire. He nods and I still refused to head home. "I'm going back to the station and finding out what the motive was behind this murder. Neither one of you are stopping me."

As I walked out, I heard Hank sigh in frustration. "I swear..."

-Detroit Police Department-

Watching Gavin interrogate the deviant made me want to flip the table and chairs. He was the worst at this job and I was desperately trying to slay my frustration to keep it from surfacing. Connor and Hank arrived just as Gavin gave up and left the interrogation room. "Nice try, shit-for-brains. You suck at interrogating people AND androids."

"Shut the hell up, Phoebe. I'd like to see someone else try with this shitty machine," Gavin scoffs. That was when Connor decided to step in and take over the interrogation.

Hank, Gavin, and I watched from behind the glass as the deviant became stressed with Connor's questioning. As we heard every word, the deviant glanced at the glass and seemed to be directing his teary gaze towards me. He then pointed directly at me without hesitating. "Amadeus wants her. He told me himself."

Connor glanced towards the glass before directing his gaze back to the deviant. "Who is Amadeus and why does he want Detective Falcon?"

"I-I don't know! He didn't tell me why!"

I felt Hank's eyes on me as I swallowed hard. "Do you know why?"

"No. I have no idea. Is Amadeus a deviant or a rogue?" I ask. Hank then enters the interrogation room and stands next to Connor, asking the same question.

"A rogue. He's a rogue android. He visited me the day after I killed Carlos and wanted me to join his alliance. I refused and he left without another word," the deviant answered.

"So, a rogue is trying to recruit other androids," I stated. "The rogue cases are rising, but most people who encounter a rogue shoot before asking questions. Deviants, on the other hand, are handed over to the police for questioning. This 'Amadeus' is failing in recruiting rogues and has resulted to turning to deviants."

"What's the damn point? Deviants don't want bloodshed like rogues," Gavin groans.

"He's trying to convert them into rogues. Why else would he turn to them?"

Gavin fell silent as Hank and Connor left the interrogation room. "We've no leads on this 'Amadeus' android," Hank huffs.

"Or why Phoebe is a target," Connor adds.

I grin and clap my hands together. "Things just got a lot more interesting."

#detroit become human #dbh spoilers #dbh #connor x oc #hank anderson #gavin reed

34 notes · View notes

signutai · 6 years

Note

12 w/ Mbat and Zenko | 100 w/ Drill and Kama | 90 w/ anyone do ur worst | 24 w/ Drill | 94 w/ Tareo and Garou

#OPM #One Punch Man #Metal Bat #Zenko #fic #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

angelsandacceptance · 3 years

Text

Sex and Violence

Chase and Harley are in bed, the latter on her phone, the former snoring away peacefully. Light filters through the dusty blinds, lighting up the dusty room. A notification sounds from Chase’s phone, causing her to groan.

She flips herself onto her stomach, muttering something incoherent, falling back asleep. Harley rolls her eyes, grabbing Chase’s phone from the nightstand and throwing it at her.

Chase lifts her head enough to glare at Harley. “You literally know my password. Check it yourself. Why are you so mean to me.��

“Friendship is just socially acceptable bullying, with extra support,” Harley shrugs.

“You are horrible.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I completely understand the reasoning.” Chase checks her phone, finally, and does a pathetic excuse for what one might call ‘whistling lowly’. “Sam’s got us another case. Murders.”

“Where we heading?” Harley asks, going through her bag.

“Bedford, Iowa.”

“But we were just in Iowa,” Harley groans.

“I thought you’d be excited for a new job.”

“I am, but I don’t know. I just don’t wanna go back to Iowa. Been there done that. It’s too soon you know?”

“Are you actually cut up about a case?”

“No,” Harley says unconvincingly.

“You are!”

“Maybe a bit.”

“I mean fair. You did find him dead after you hooked up.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just regret sleeping with Jeb is all.”

“That bad?”

“No, it really was the best sex I’ve ever had, but…”

“But he wasn’t Dean.”

“No. Well yes, but no. I just, I didn’t feel anything. There was no connection, you know?”

“And with Dean there is?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t slept with him.” Harley says, shaking her head.

“Yet,” Chase says emphasising the word.

Harley rolls her eyes before finding her lipstick, “Fucking finally,” She mutters.

“You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

“Only because you keep suggesting it.”

***

Harley and Dean enter the prison interview room in their suits. Benson speaks upon seeing them, “Why does the PD keep sending you guys? I already said I don't want a lawyer.”

“I’m not a lawyer,” Harley says smoothly.

“Yeah, she’s my assistant,” Dean lies.

“I’m your paralegal, not your assistant.”

“Either way you're mine,” Dean smirks.

“This is reality, not whatever porno you have playing in your head. I’ve seen your search history,” Harley snarks before sitting across from Benson, “Look Mr. Benson. They’re lining up the firing squad.”

“I’m pleading guilty,” Benson replies.

“All right, look, you don't want us to represent you, that's fine. In fact it's probably not a bad idea, between you and me. We just wanna understand what happened, that's all,” Dean explains.

“Please, Mr. Benson,” Harley says, batting her eyelashes.

“What happened was, I killed my wife. You wanna know why? Because she made plans without asking me,” Benson responds pointedly.

“When you were killing her, how did you feel? Like you weren’t in control? Disoriented?”

“Like something possessed you to do it?” Dean asks, causing Harley to shoot him a look.

“I knew exactly what I was doing. I was crystal clear,” Benson claims.

“Then why’d you do it?”

“I don't know. I loved her. We were happy.”

“Mmhmm? Ms. Way those papers please?” Dean says, eyeing the folder Harley was carrying.

“Right,” She says, pulling a bank statement out of the folder and placing it on the table.

Dean taps the papers, “Nine G's. That's a hefty bill.”

“Where did you get that?” Benson asks quickly.

“Doesn't matter. We have it. See, certain charges, ones you don't want the missus to know...they show up under shady names like 'M & C Entertainment'.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Like dropping plastic at a nudie bar for instance.”

“We just wanna know the truth, Mr. Benson,” Harley says exasperated.

“Her name was Jasmine,” Benson says dreamily, “I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't like to go to strip bars. My buddy was having a bachelor party, and there she was. She came right up to me. And...I dunno, she was just...perfect. Everything that I wanted.”

“Well you pay enough and anybody will be anything,” Dean shrugs.

“Not anybody,” Harley corrects.

“Most people,” Dean amends.

“Did your wife find out?”

“No, she never had a clue,” Benson answers.

“Why’d you kill her then?”

“For Jasmine. She said we would be together forever. If...if only Vicki was…”

“Muertos,” Dean finishes for him.

“Afterwards, me and Jasmine were supposed to meet and she never showed. I don't know where she lives, I don't know her last name, I don't even know her real first name! I'm an idiot.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Harley agrees.

***

Sam and Chase walk into the office of an ER just as the woman behind the desk tips a couple of aspirin into her hand, tipping her head back and downing them. She makes a sour face, shaking her head slightly.

“Rough night?” Sam asks.

“Fun night,” Cara Roberts responds, “Rough morning.”

Chase laughs. “That’s how I like them.”

“Can I help you?” Cara asks.

“Ah, yes, I’m Agent Stiles, and this is my partner-”

“Agent McCall, ma’am,” Chase interrupts.

“We’re FBI. You Doctor Cara Roberts?”

“Far as I know.”

“You do some work in the sheriff’s department?”

“Yeah, when I’m not slogging it in the ER. It’s a small town, we multitask.”

“Well, we have some questions about a case.”

“Several cases, actually,” Chase adds. “Do you mind if we sit?”

Cara gestures to a couple of open chairs and they take their seats.

“Great. Adam Benson, Jim Wylie, and Steve Snyder.”

“Oh yeah, the men that killed their wives.”

“You handled their workups, right?” Sam asks.

“Autopsies for the wives and tox screens for the perps. A two for one.”

“Find anything?” Chase asks.

“Not really.” Cara shrugs. “I mean, c.o.d. on the women were pretty clear. There was nothing unusual in their systems.”

“What about their husbands?” Chase asks.

“Can I, uh, see your badges again?”

Chase shoots Sam a side glance, confused, but they both oblige without another thought.

“There was one thing, an anomaly in the blood work. And I remember thinking how strange it was that it showed up in all three of the men.”

“That what showed up?”

“Oxytocin. And their levels were crazy high.”

“Oxytocin?” Sam asks.

“Mm-hmm. It’s a hormone that’s produced during childbirth, lactation, and sex.”

“Okay?”

“People call it the love hormone. Um, you know how it feels when you first fall in love. The whole weak in the knees, tattoo you on my chest thing? That's oxytocin. Of course it eventually fades and then you're stuck with every relationship ever. That and the painful regime of tattoo removal.”

Cara and Sam smile at each other, and Chase’s eyebrows shoot up in mock interest. She looks to the side playfully, and Sam rolls his eyes at her. Dean and Harley walk in at that moment.

“What’d I miss?” Dean asks.

“Ah, these are our partners. Agent Murdoch and Agent Argent.”

“Agent sounds so formal, please, just call me Dean.”

Cara shakes his hand briskly before turning her gaze back to Sam. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Uh, sure one more thing. This chemical, this…”

“Oxytocin.”

“Oxytocin. What could cause those high levels that you found?”

“Nothing that I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, well that’s it then. Thanks, Doc.”

They all go to leave, but Sam hesitates at the door, being the last to exit. He turns around and gets Cara’s attention again. “Try a greasy breakfast. Best cure for a hangover.”

“Watch it, buddy. I’m the only M.D. here.”

They exchange coy smiles again, and Chase smirks at Harley with a knowing look. Dean, however, looks affronted.

They all finally exit and Dean hits Sam lightly against his stomach with the back of his hand. “Dude, you totally cock-blocked me.”

Chase and Harley, walking in front of the boys, roll their eyes in sync.

***

“So Whylie and Snyder totally fessed up, huh?” Sam asks.

“One emptied his IRA, the other, his kids' college fund, all on the same day,” Dean confirms.

“Live nude girls?”

“A club called, and I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this, ‘The Honey Wagon’,” Harley says shuddering.

“Ah, yes, because nothing makes me hornier than wagons of honey,” Chase says sarcastically.

“Gods, I hate that name so much.”

“Did these guys have an affair too?” Sam asks. “Lemme guess. Her name was Jasmine?” Chase asks.

“Yes and no. This is where things get interesting. Each guy hooked up with a different chick.”

“So what? These girls all connected somehow?”

“Well, they all described their stripper in the same way, the exact same way. Perfect, and everything that they wanted.”

“Yeah, at least until dream Barbie convinced them to murder their wives,” Chase says.

“There’s that,” Dean concedes.

“Sounds like they were under some kind of love spell,” Chase suggests.

“Sure seems that way,” Sam agrees.

“Which caused them to go totally psycho,” Harley adds.

“Absolutely.”

“You seem pretty cheery,” Chase snidely comments towards Dean.

“Strippers, Chase. Strippers. We're on an actual case involving strippers. Finally.”

***

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Chase grumpily says, huffing as she pulls on the tiny skirt adorning her waist, not even bothering to try covering more with her top, which is simply doomed to fail. “How come the boys never have to do shit like this?”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re just lucky,” Harley says, adjusting her barely there bra, “It’s not like we have to perform though.”

“That's true. Hey, I bet I could make more money than you in tips alone.”

“Oh you are on!”

With that, the girls walk through the backstage area, intent on finding the culprits.

“Have you heard from Jasmine lately?” Chase asks casually to one of the girls, putting on makeup.

“No idea who you’re talkin’ about, hon. Lemme guess. You’re new around here, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Anastasia.”

The girl’s eyebrow raises slightly. “Here’s a tip of the trade, Anastasia. Don’t go lookin’ for other girls. They won’t be found and ya won’t get anything good from them.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Chase answers hesitantly, backing away to go stand near Harley once more.

“I fucking hate it here.”

“I mean, it’s not that bad. Plenty of eye candy,” Harley muses.

“I’m trying to not ogle at the very beautiful ladies here.”

“You swing that way?” one of the other girls asks.

“I swing all ways,” Chase responds.

“Good for you.”

“Hey, you’re a pretty thing, ain’t you?” A man asks, walking past with a girl on each arm. His eyes slide up and down Harley’s body and Chase has to refrain from gouging his eyes out. “What’s your name?”

“Giselle. What about you sweetheart?”

“Johnny. But you can call me anything you’d like. Wanna join us?”

“Sorry, but we both have clients to see to,” Chase interrupts.

“That’s a shame, maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe?” Harley says sweetly as Johnny leaves, “Thank the gods he’s gone.”

“I hate all men.” Chase shudders dramatically. “Okay, let’s go out into the lion’s den.”

As soon as the girls step foot into the main bar, lights and music overtake them. Bodies on the dance floor morph into a complicated mess of tangled limbs and barely clothed people. In fact, some of them might no longer be clothed at all.

“How are we going to find the boys in this mess?”

“I’m not sure who you lovely ladies are looking for, but we’ve got all you need right here!” An overly drunk man shouts, gesturing to a group of seven men, all wearing matching shirts that read ‘Wayne’s last night’.

“Well, I don’t want to impose,” Chase says slowly, immediately putting on a persona of fake innocence.

“Not imposing at all, love. Come join us.”

“Well, Giselle? I think the boys can wait a little bit.”

Chase smirks mischievously before going to take a shot from one of the men. “Thank you kindly.” She downs it with no problem, and the men all whoop, handing her another.

“How many can you have before you come home with us?”

“I don’t think you have enough money to pay for that many shots, sorry.”

“Sorry boys, we don’t get taken home that easy,” Harley dodges.

Chase becomes a little too preoccupied with one of the groomsmen, earning herself a nice makeout session, two more shots, and twenty bucks.

The girls finally leave, earning a chorus of ‘no’s and ‘what a shame’ from the men. They go back to searching for Sam and Dean, a feat that seems near impossible.

“Why can’t they just stay where we left them?” Harley asks, annoyed.

“Because it’s Sam and Dean. When do they ever stay where we leave them?”

“I know, but it makes life so much harder,” Harley complains. Then as if a sign from God himself Harley spots a familiar head hovering above everyone else’s. “Found ya!” Harley shouts in excitement. The girls rush over as fast as they can without looking suspicious.

“We have a lead,” Sam says.

“Good. Can we get out of here so I can change now?”

“I dunno, I’m kinda enjoying the view,” Dean says with a coy smile, sending a wink towards Harley.

“You can’t leave yet,” A drunk man says. “You’ve gotta give these boys a show first.”

“Yeah!” another man slurs.

Chase wrinkles her nose in disgust. “You wanna show?” she exclaims, about to draw a knife, which she’d hidden in a garter on her leg. Sam catches her arm and pulls her back. It doesn’t help Chase’s mood that Mariah Carey is the music currently playing. Let alone the song, ‘Touch My Body’.

“A little show wouldn’t hurt,” Dean says, shrugging.

Harley glares at him while he just takes a seat mockingly, gesturing for her to go on. A small crowd of drunk and sober men form around them, alongside a few intrigued strippers. Harley sighs.

“I better get a good tip for this,” She says. Dean pulls out a one hundred dollar bill, tucks it into the front of his pants and smiles widely.

“Come and get it.”

Harley rolls her eyes but puts on a false smile, walking over to him slowly, trying to think of what she can do. Chase gets an idea and whispers in Sam’s ear. Sam hands her a twenty, trying to keep himself from laughing.

Chase folds it, then tosses it so it lands right between Dean’s feet.

Harley smirks at it, then bends down slowly, looking up at Dean. Dean swallows hard, suddenly nervous. He’s also horny, but that’s besides the point (at least, that’s what he’ll tell Sam later as Sam laughs at him).

Harley straightens up, before coming to stand right between Dean’s legs. She leans forward, and wraps her arms around Dean’s neck. The chorus to the song comes on at a seemingly perfect time.

‘Touch my body; Put me on the floor; Wrestle me around; Play with me some more; Touch my body; Throw me on the bed; I just wanna make you feel like you never did’

With this last line, Harley runs her hands down to Dean’s belt, pulling on it to make him slide forward towards her on his seat. His eyes noticeably darken as he suddenly avoids her gaze. Wanting to mess with him further, gaining confidence with sheer spite, she pulls Dean’s head forward to look at her again.

Harley uses the bar behind Dean as leverage and wraps her legs around Dean’s waist just as the next line sounds out.

‘Touch my body; Let me wrap my thighs; All around your waist; Just a little taste’

Putting all her weight on her knees, which are balanced on either side of Dean, Harley raises herself up so her body is flush against Dean’s, Dean forced to look up at her to look her in the eyes. Of course, this isn’t the only place he’s looking.

‘Touch my body; know you like my curves; C’mon and give me what I deserve and touch my body’

Harley settles her weight back down and leans back, Dean’s hands instinctively coming up to her shoulder blades as she leans all the way back, making a circle before coming back up to look him in the eyes, putting a little more pressure than necessary on his hips.

She gets off his lap and leans in to kiss him, before smirking and turning away completely. She looks back at him over her shoulder before going to stand near Sam and Chase, leaving Dean stunned and unsure of what to do.

“You didn’t take the cash though?” Sam says questioningly as cheers from the surrounding men chorus around them. Harley smirks and holds up the hundred dollar bill in between two fingers.

“You really doubt me?”

“Never,” Chase says knowingly. “Now let’s get out of here.”

***

Sam and Dean walk into the girls’ room at the Lion’s Pride Motel. Chase is on her bed staring at the ceiling. The faint sound of the shower can be heard briefly, before silence permeates the room.

“So we have a lead?” Chase asks Sam.

Harley exits the bathroom with only a thin towel covering her, “You know I don’t even care anymore? I gave Dean a lap dance y’all can see me in a towel,” She grabs her clothes and heads to the bathroom.

“Well, she didn’t yell at me to get out, that’s progress, maybe next time I can get her to lose the towel,” Dean smirks.

“You perv,” Chase pauses. “Maybe next time, offer more than a hundred.”

“I’m not above that!” Harley yells from the bathroom. “I’ve got this really cool idea for a tattoo I want realized!”

“Yeah, that’s why,” Chase comments sarcastically.

“Hey, it’s your fault I’ve even thought about him naked.”

“You’ve what about me, what?” Dean exclaims, a little too excited.

“Like I said Chase’s fault.”

“Can we get back to the case?” Sam asks

“Why did Chase make you think about me naked?” Dean asks concerned.

“‘Cause she’s always going on about how we’re gonna get together. Duh.” Harley says leaving the bathroom.

“That’s it?” Dean questions further.

“That’s it. Promise.”

“Okay, now we can get back to the case?” Sam asks again.

“Yes, please, let’s do that,” Harley says quickly, wanting to get as far away from the topic of Dean naked as possible.

“So this theory?” Chase prompts.

“A siren,” Sam replies.

“Like Greek myth siren, the Odyssey?” Dean asks. Sam and Harley give him a confused look. “Hey, I read!”

“I don’t doubt that, I just didn’t peg you for an Odyssey kind of guy,” Harley says, slightly impressed.

“You’ll never peg me, sweetheart,” Dean comments, causing Sam to roll his eyes.

“I remember you reading that with me when I went through my huge greek mythology phase,” Chase comments.

“The siren's not actually a myth, it's more of a beautiful creature that preys on men, enticing them with their siren song,” Sam says, trying to bring everyone back to the task at hand.

“Let me guess, 'Welcome to the Jungle?' No, no. Warrant's 'Cherry Pie.'” Dean guesses.

Harley and Chase’s heads whip towards each other as they lock eyes, (honestly it’s a wonder they didn’t get whiplash) before they both simultaneously belt out, “She’s my cherry pie! Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise! Tastes so good, make a grown man cry, sweet cherry pie!!!”

Sam simply looks at them with deadpan expressions.

Dean smirks at Harley, “You trying to entice me? You know you just have to ask and I’m all yours?”

“No, Dean,” Harley says, rubbing her forehead.

“It’s our song,” Chase adds.

“Wait, so are you? Do I want to know? Is that why Harley won’t sleep with me?” Dean asks, getting more and more confused.

“Wow, Dean. We were literally just talking about how I think you and Harley would be perfect together. Trust me, if that beautiful, amazing, talented, brilliant, goddess-like, sexy woman was mine, I’d have punched you by now for even thinking you have a chance.”

“Aww! I think you're sexy too! And all those other things! I’m just not good with words, or compliments.”

“The siren song isn’t a literal song. It’s more a metaphor like...like their call, their allure, you know?” Sam explains bringing everyone back on track.

“So they shake their thing and the guys zombie out,” Dean asks.

“Yeah. If you were a siren in '08 looking to ruin a bunch of morons, where would you set up shop?”

“Well it depends on how I affect my victims? If it’s through sex, an escort service. If it’s through something like saliva, a strip club seems like a pretty good place,” Harley concurs.

“So whatever floats the guy's boat, that's what they look like?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. You see, sirens can read minds. They see what you want most and then they can kinda, like, cloak themselves. You know, like an illusion.” Sam elaborates.

“So it could be the same girl.” Chase states.

“Yeah, actually. Probably. Sirens are usually pretty solitary.”

“How do we kill her?” Harley asks.

“Bobby's working on it. Even if we figure that out…”

“How the hell are we gonna find it? It could be anybody,” Dean wonders.

“If a girl suddenly shows up and she’s exactly your type, shoot first, ask questions later,” Chase says.

***

Chase and Harley sit at their respective beds, each surrounded by piles of books, some lore, some mythology, and some just random printed out conspiracy pages from the internet.

“I’m finding jack shit about sirens. The best I’m getting is shit I already fucking know from my greek mythology phase from middle school!” Chase says, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation before flopping backwards onto her bed, groaning overdramatically. As one does.

“Same! Nothing about how to kill a bitch,” Harley says, mimicking her friend, “Why can’t we catch a break every once in a while?”

“We’re the Winchesters. We’re never going to catch a break.”

“Not a Winchester,” Harley reminds before throwing a pillow at Chase.

The pillow hits Chase in the face unceremoniously, before she moves to hug it in her arms, an impish smile adorning her face. “Yet.”

“I’m also not the marrying type.”

“Fair, but you may change your mind. And even if you don’t, I say just legally change your name to Winchester. Might as well at this point.”

“Not happening. I like being a Pawlak.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll drop it. For now.” Chase grabs her phone as it dings, seeing a message from Sam pop up. “Sam’s headed to the boys’ room now. He said to meet him.”

“Fiiiine! I’ll get up,” Harley groans, while rising like a cheesy vampire in a cheesy movie.

Chase also groans, but more like an eighty year old stuck in a twenty seven year old body. “Hopefully they’ve got some better fucking ideas on how to kill this cunt than us or we’re doomed.”

The girls head over to the boys’ room not bothering to knock.

“Lenny Bristol was definitely another siren vic,” Sam says when he sees the girls enter.

“So you got in to see him then?” Harley asks.

“Yep. He brought home a stripper named Belle. Couple hours later he offed his mother. Belle, of course, went MIA.”

“Wait. Belle?”

“Yes?” Sam says, looking at Chase confused. “Did you meet her at the strip club or something?”

“No, I didn’t. But does anyone else see a pattern here?”

“Disney princesses,” Harley nods. “We got a sexy psycho wannabe princess on our hands.”

“Love that,” Chase responds sarcastically.

“Wait, he killed his mom?” Dean asks, getting stuck on a very different part of Sam’s previous statement.

“The woman he was closest to,” Sam answers matter-of-factly.

Sam’s phone starts to ring, but it’s in Dean’s hand. Dean tosses it to Sam with an annoyed look on his face.

“You, uh, forgot your phone.”

Sam answers the phone, casting a worried look to his brother. “Hey, Bobby.” A moment passes. “Ah, no, And it doesn’t seem she’s slowing down any. You got anything?” Another moment. “Hold on a sec, lemme put you on speaker.”

Sam puts the phone on speaker and the other three gather around, keen on the news Bobby has.

“It says you need ‘a bronze dagger, covered in the blood of a sailor, under the spell of the song’.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asks.

“You got me,” Bobby responds. “We’re dealing with three thousand years of the telephone game here.”

“Are you boys stupid, or just dumb?” Chase asks. “It’s kinda straight forward.”

“Oh, yeah? How so.”

“Look, it’s obvious that it means the current victim under the siren’s spell or song is who we need. We need his blood, coat a bronze dagger with it, then we can kill a bitch.”

Harley points to Chase in agreement, “That, oxytocin and bronze will kill it, it’s simple really. Maybe being oblivious on how to kill a siren is a guy thing?” Harley ponders.

“Or maybe it’s just them. They really are hopeless without us.”

“Yeah, but even Bobby couldn’t put two and two together.”

Bobby scoffs at this, his voice crackling through the speaker. “Well, the siren's spell ain't got nothing to do with any song. It's most likely some kind of toxin or venom. Something she gets in the vic's blood.”

“And makes them go all Manchurian Candidate. Uh, what do you think, she infects the men during sex?” Sam asks.

“No, Sam, she shoots em up like it’s heroin.”

“Could be another bodily fluid though. I mean she’s a stripper, not an escort,” Harley points out.

“Ew,” Chase responds.

“Supernatural STD,” Dean laughs.

“Well, however it happens, once it's done the siren's gotta watch her back. She gets a dose of her own medicine.”

“It kills her,” Sam says plainly.

“Hopefully.”

“Like a snake getting iced by its own venom.”

“So we just gotta find a way to juice one of the OJs in jail?” Dean asks.

“They’ve come to they’re senses, their oxytocin levels are probably normal by now.” Harley disagrees

“Haven't got a clue where you're going to get the blood you need,” Bobby agrees with Harley.

“I think I might have an idea,” Sam says somewhat confidently.

“Be careful. These things are tricky bitches. Wrap you up in knots before you know what hit ya.”

“Don’t worry Bobby, we’ll keep the boys safe,” Harley says happily.

***

“Doctor Roberts.” Sam acknowledges as he, Dean, and Harley enter her office. Chase had gone to search for a bronze dagger.

“Agent Stiles. Can't stay away, huh?” Cara smirks back at Sam.

“Actually we’re here on business. Do you still have the blood samples with the oxytocin in them?” Harley interrupts.

“Mmhmm,”Cara confirms.

“Good, we need them,” Dean says.

“What for?”

A tall man with brown hair approached them, “Excuse me, Doctor Roberts?” The man asks.

“Yeah?”

Dean flashes his badge at the man, “Excuse me, uh, we're a little busy here, buddy.”

The man flashes his own badge, “Yeah, so am I, pal.”

“Doc, can you give us a sec, please?” Sam asks.

Cara backs away slowly, “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s your name?” Dean asks the actual agent.

“Florian Munroe. What's yours?”

“Special Agent Harley Argent,” Harley smiles, shaking Florian’s hand. “The tall one is Special Agent Sam Stiles, and the rude one is our partner Special Agent Dean Murdoch.”

“I’m not rude,” Dean huffs.

“You were being rude to Agent Munroe just a minute ago,” Harley quickly says to Dean before addressing Munroe again, “So sorry about that. So tell me, Agent Munroe, what office are you from?”

“Omaha, Violent Crimes Unit. My SAC sent me down here to see about the murders.”

“We’re D.C., our Assistant Director assigned us.”

“Oh? Which AD?”

“Mike Kaiser.”

“What’s your badge number?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean asks, offended.

“I’m just following protocol,” Monroe defends.

“57882952,” Harley smiles. She waits a moment for the boys to step up.

“57862967,” Sam adds on looking at Dean expectantly.

“Uh… 5792...35..69,” Dean says slowly, thinking about it way too hard.

“What’s your badge number?” Harley asks Munroe expectantly.

“52567924.”

“Well, we’re all nice and real aren’t we?” Harley laughs.

“Where are you at with this?”

“Where are you at with this?” Dean asks, eyes narrowed.

“Well, I was just about to run the, uh, perps' bloodwork.”

“Dead end,” Sam cuts in.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“But get this. I feel like I found something that, uh, connects all the murderers.”

“Really?”

Munroe nods, “They were all banging strippers....from the same club.”

“You don’t say!” Dean says sarcastically.

“What do you say we, uh, go down there and check it out?”

“Well, here's the thing, Florian. See, we're kinda lone wolves.”

“You know what, that sounds like an excellent idea. Just... just give me a second with my partners and we'll, uh...one sec,” Sam says pulling Dean and Harley aside. “Dude, you gotta stay with him.”

“What?” Dean asks.

“Keep him out of the way.”

“Why me?”

“Because the Doc has got the hots for Sam,” Harley explains, “It’s painfully obvious. Look, I'll go with you. I trust Sam not to walk into a trap more than I do you.”

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do with him? Also, ouch!”

“Just take him to the strip club...keep an eye out for the siren. Come on, Dean, just... just focus on the naked girls. You'll forget he's even there!” Sam pleads.

“I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for the girls; and because last time I went to a strip club with Harley I got a lap dance.”

“Well, you aren’t getting another one,” Harley adds pointedly.

***

Chase huffs, walking into the sixth pawn shop, just wanting to get one measly knife.

“Seriously!” She exclaims quietly to herself as the bell dings upon entering. “How hard is it to find a fucking bronze dagger? It’s not even a sturdy metal!”

“Looking for anything, miss?” The pawnbroker asks her.

She spins on her heel, sighing. “You wouldn’t happen to have any daggers, do you? I need one for a, uh, school project. Greek mythology.”

“Gold, silver? Anything in particular? We’ve got quite an assortment.” He leads her over to a case full of all the daggers one could possibly want.

“Got any bronze?”

“Actually we do! A couple here. This one has a nice steel handle and this one has a very intricate pattern carved into the blade. Any meet your fancy?”

“I’ll take both.” Chase says, eyeing a particularly pretty bone handled blade set with obviously fake jewels. Obvious to her anyways. “I’ll take that one too. Simply because it’s pretty. How much will that be?”

The man looks at her skeptically. “All three will run you pretty high. Are you sure?”

“Name your price,” she answers simply.

“146 plus tax.”

Chase whistles. “That’s fine. You accept cash?”

The man nods, trying to keep the confused look off his face as Chase digs through her backpack for her wallet, moving an iridescent serrated hunting knife out of the way.

She hands over two crisp hundreds and starts to walk away. “Keep the change.”

Chase gets into Jack and begins to drive before swearing. She picks up the phone and dials her best friend's number.

“Hey.”

“Hey, where am I meeting you guys? I got two daggers and another one just ‘cause.”

“I didn’t think about it. Just meet us at the motel room?”

“Yeah that makes sense. So Dean’s off with Florian right now, right? And Sam’s probably banging that doctor. What’re you up to?”

“I’m stuck making sure Dean doesn’t end up screwing a stripper.”

“Nah. He wouldn’t want to make you that jealous after such a generous lap dance you gave him.”

“Um, not jealous. I just don’t trust him to not fall into a trap.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, I’ll head back and meet Sam at the motel. Shoot me a text when you’re on your way back.”

“Kay see you soon.”

Chase hangs up and finishes the drive. Back at the motel, Chase walks into the boys’ room to find a sulking Sam.

“What’s up, Sammy? Hot doctor not want to bang?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “No. Dean’s just pissed at me now and thinks Cara is the siren. And I threw my phone at the wall.” Sam points to his phone, lying across the room.

“Well. Feel like killing anyone yet?”

Sam gives Chase a pointed look.

She holds her hands up in defense. “Sorry, too soon?”

The look stays.

Chase sighs. “It's okay, Sam. I don’t think Cara is the siren either. She seems perfectly normal. However, Florian gives me weird vibes. Wait. Shit.”

Chase grabs her phone and starts texting.

Sam looks at her confused. “Who are you texting?”

“Harley. I just realized something.”

“Realized what?”

“There was a pattern with the stripper names. They were all Disney princesses. Does Florian sound familiar to you?”

“Should it?”

“Florian is the name of Snow White’s prince. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“You think Florian is the siren?”

“I think we should at least keep an eye on him.”

***

Harley sits up in the backseat when Florian slides into the passenger’s.

“She went in just a second ago,” Florian reports.

“Nice work,” Dean commends.

“Should we follow her in?”

“Nah let’s wait and see who she comes back out with,” Harley pipes up.

“So you think... what? She's drugging these guys?”

“In a way yeah.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I know how it sounds,” Dean adds.

“You sure about that? 'Cause it sounds like crazy on toast. All these different strippers, they're magically the same girl? But then they're not strippers at all, it's Dr Quinn.”

Harley’s brain stops working for a minute trying to understand Munroe’s reference.

“It's kinda hard to explain, but I have my reasons and they're good ones, so you're just gonna have to trust me on 'em,” Dean somewhat explains.

“Yeah okay. I guess.”

Harley’s phone starts playing ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant which pulls her out of her stupor still not understanding how Cara and Harley Quinn are in any way similar. She checks her texts as Dean and Florian take turns drinking out of Dean’s flask.

“Shit!” Harley yells looking up to see Dean taking another sip out of said flask; she tries to stop him, but begins moving too late.

“What?” Dean asks, confused.

“Florian is a Disney prince’s name and we haven’t ruled out saliva as a potential way to get infected.”

“But I didn’t get with some stripper at The Honey Wagon?”

“He realised we’re hunters, you idiot! God how could I be so stupid!”

“I was right then, you are hunters. Unfortunately I can’t do anything to you Harley. Dean on the other hand I have wrapped around my finger.” Florian muses.

“I will gut you,” Harley practically hisses.

“I should be your little brother. Sam. You can't trust him. Not like you can trust me. In fact, I really feel like you should get him outta the way, so we can be brothers. Forever.”

Dean begins to drive back to the motel.

***

When they get to the motel room, Dean gets out of the car and roughly grabs Harley by the arm, under Florian’s instruction. They lead her to her room and tie her to her bed post.

Dean looks around for a weapon, easily locating a silver knife under Harley’s pillow.

“Dean, come on, let’s talk about this.”

“It’s not him you should be pleading with,” Florian reminds, “Kill her.”

Harley screams hoping against hope that someone hears her. As Dean draws nearer, pressing the knife gently against her skin, but hard enough to draw blood, Sam and Chase enter the room, guns drawn.

They quickly assess the situation. “So you are the siren,” Sam says.

“Man, I just gotta say, you are one ugly ass stripper,” Chase says.

“Maybe, but I got what I want. I got Dean.”

With a gesture of his head, Florian directs Dean to grab Sam. Dean holds up a knife to his neck, almost cutting him.

“Dean, this isn’t you,” Chase says, inching slowly towards Harley in hopes to untie her.

“You can fight this,” Sam continues.

“Why don’t you cut him. Just a little. On his neck. Right there.”

Dean cuts into Sam’s neck, drawing blood.

“Dean’s all mine.”

“You poisoned him.”

“No. I gave him what he needed. And it wasn't some bitch in a G-string. It was you. A little brother that looked up to him, that he could trust. And now he loves me. He'd do anything for me. And I gotta tell you, Sam, that kind of devotion? I mean, watching someone kill for you? It's the best feeling in the world.”

“Is that why you’re slutting all over town?”

“Ahh. I get bored, like we all do. And I wanna fall in love again. And again...and again.”

“I'll tell you what. I have fought some nasty sons of bitches, but you are one needy, pathetic loser.”

“You won’t feel that way for very long.”

Florian goes to poison Sam, but Chase knocks him out of the way, cutting into Dean’s shoulder. He winces, stumbling back in pain.

“Sam!” Chase yells, tossing the dagger to him as Florian grabs ahold of her hair.

“You’ve really got to stop getting in my way.” He spins her around to face Dean. “Take care of her.”

Dean holds the knife up as Chase is shoved towards him. Just as he is about to plunge the blade into his younger sister, he stops short.

“I don’t think so,” Sam says. Everyone turns to him, and sees him standing behind Florian, his dagger buried to the hilt in Florian’s chest. Florian looks down in shock.

He crumples to the ground, lying still, blood pooling around his body.

Dean slowly lowers the knife and grabs Chase by the arms, pulling her into a hug, muttering apologies into her hair as she reassures him that she’s fine.

Sam unties Harley and they all take a moment to catch their breath, luckily escaping another narrow encounter with death.

***

“So did you and Sam hear me scream?” Harley asks as they drive down the highway.

“No, actually. I could just tell something was wrong. Like my Harley senses were tingling.”

Harley begins to laugh, shaking her head at Chase, who immediately gets defensive.

“What?” Chase asks. “Is that the wrong thing to say?”

“No, it’s just- you’re just- your spidey senses were tingling.”

“Exactly!”

“Okay, Chase. Okay,” Harley responds, trying to reign in her laughter.

0 notes

teddy-bear-surprise · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4: Filling in The Blanks

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of violence, blood, police, alcohol, stalking, car crash (not the main character), and bondage (non-sexual).

Author’s Note: This is an alternate universe situation set around the time of seasons 13 and 14 but I kept Hotch and Prentiss because they're some of my favorite characters. This fic does not follow cannon occurrences so please keep this in mind.

Ophelia sat on her couch moping over Cat's disappearance. It had been two days since Cat left. She wouldn't pick up her phone, which Ophelia did not know was broken, and Ophelia thought she was ignoring her. In reality, however, Cat was trying to reach Ophelia by payphone but could not remember her number. Barely ten minutes had passed since ten in the morning, and Ophelia was already nursing her third beer of the day. Her motivation to do anything, to be anything, had completely disappeared.

She lazily clicked through the channels before settling on the news. Now, Ophelia was not one to regularly check the news, but this station had a particularly handsome reporter that she loved to watch. In her mind, he was the only viable man left in Los Angeles. Her aptitude for stalking and predating did not end with her victims and was a driving force in all aspects of her life. According to her standards, he checked out: a clean digital history, a clean social presence, good financials, no unhappy exes, and most importantly he was single.

Today, however, Ophelia was less than pleased with what he had to say. "The FBI has landed here, in Los Angeles, this morning to investigate the mysterious murders of five young and famous men. They are working in conjunction with the LAPD and are searching for answers. More on this after the break–"

She rolled her eyes and crossed him off of her mental list of "viable LA men" which now held a whopping zero names. Her hand reached for the remote and clicked off onto another channel, hoping for something a bit more light-hearted.

On The Jet Earlier That Day

The BAU's luxurious, white jet had taken off only moments earlier and was flying quickly from Quantico to Los Angeles. Hotch looked at his team, all eagerly waiting for his instruction, before addressing them, "We're dealing with a very experienced killer here and they might even have a partner based on the amount of physical strength that it would take to restrain men of this size. The M.O. has been consistent since the very first case and there were no trials and no errors, meaning that we found no similar attacks in the Los Angeles area that occurred before these. They started attacking right off the bat and we need to find out why. Garcia will fill you in on the details."

The screen above Hotch's head was now occupied by a perky blonde, "Garcia here! Ready to rock and roll? Yeah? No? Okay, tough crowd. So, first up we have Rick Garza, twenty-eight years old and living in Glendale. He's not the most famous actor, but he is definitely on Hollywood's radar... should I say 'was'? Not important... Last year Mr. Garza started working in sideline films like Danika's Delight–a great movie by the way–and worked his way up to major ones like Begum's Trial which was supposed to finish filming next month. He doesn't have many enemies in the industry, a pretty well-liked guy, for the most part. He did have some disputes with the financial department on set, but that happens all the time so I don't think it was a contributing factor. Uhhhh... his wife, Maci Garza, said she was out shopping with friends but when she came home and went to her room to put her new, shiny things away, she found Rick like this–"

A photo of Rick flashed onto everyone's screens. He was hogtied with his legs and hands tied together behind his back, an apple occupying his mouth, and big bloody letters covering his back that read 'suck on this, you bastard'. Rick's body was laid on its stomach, so his hands and feet were in the air, and based on the images, he had been positioned to face the door, almost like he was waiting for someone to walk in.

"Yeesh, if I were to die like that, I don't think I would want to have been born at all," Rossi tried to lighten the mood with his snarky comment and his jokester reputation never disappointed.

Garcia rolled her eyes at Rossi and continued, "Agreed, not the best way to go out. Moving on to vic number two, we have Simon Boyd, thirty-two, and also living in Glendale. He was a very, very popular chef, you all might know his restaurant, 'Boyd & Boyd'. It opened up ten years ago and has gotten an impressive three Micheline stars. According to co-workers, he's a 'nice guy with the worst anger-issues in all of LA', that is a direct quote, by the way. Kind of contradictory, kind of confusing, didn't help me that much."

"So, I did a little deep-dive into his online presence, he seems pretty clean, but looking into his wife's life is where it gets weird. Back in the day, Daniela had a massive online presence, like massive. There was not a day where she did not post about her friends or life updates. But about three years ago she was living in a pretty bad part of town and then she met Simon. After that, she stopped working, stopped going out, stopped posting, all that jazz. She essentially disappeared from the face of the earth and only went out when there were events for Simon's restaurant. Kind of sketchy if you ask me. Also, they got married like two months after meeting and he immediately put all of her assets in his name. Basically, he owned her."

Garcia took a moment to find the rest of her notes, "Daniela was actually on their house property when Simon was killed. She was in their backyard, swimming, and when she went back inside he was dead. So as Hotch said, very experienced killers. Simon also left almost nothing to Daniela so take that as you will. As for the M.O., it looks pretty standard, the same as with Garza."

Garcia pressed a few buttons and some photos of Boyd's crime scene appeared on their tablets. This time, it was Emily who spoke up, "Garcia, you said that Daniela didn't get a lot from Simon in his will, so who got everything?"

"I am so glad you asked, Emily!" Garcia bore a wide smile, "All of Simon's assets went to an Eric Matteo Bowes, but the problem is, there is no Eric Matteo Bowes. He doesn't exist. And the only one that does, lives in Puerto Rico and has never been in the same state as Simon. So basically he left his entire life to a mystery man."

"Why would he do that? Is it possible that it's some kind of pseudonym? Maybe it means something else?" Replied Emily with a confused expression.

"Already there, my love. I called Boyd's lawyer and he said that while he could not give specific details, he did confirm that Bowes does not exist. Yet another mystery to solve, we just have to see if this is related to Boyd's death or not."

They went on like this for the next hour, bouncing around ideas and debating if certain occurrences had any significance in the cases. Once all of the cases had been discussed, Reid raised his hand to speak, still resembling the quiet kid that Ophelia knew, "Guys, I think the unsub is female. Look at the amount of rage," he pointed to the photos of the men's' slit throats, "this is a very up-close kill and it indicates that there may be a personal motive too. That's something we see a lot in female serial killers, it tends to stem from trauma that they feel they cannot let go of. And it's definitely a duo, two of the victims were athletes, indicating that at least two unsubs would be needed to restrain them, especially to get them on top of the bed after. But not more than two, bigger killing teams are more prone to mistakes and disorganization, I'm not seeing any of that here. My guess, is that these two bonded over their hatred of men, as indicated by the message written on the victims' backs, and somewhere along the line they decided to put their message out there through violence. Garcia, we need to start looking into females living in the greater LA area who have filed reports for domestic abuse against males within the past five years, cross-reference that with females whose mothers were either missing, dead, or not involved."

"Give me one second, pretty boy." Garcia's painted nails clacked loudly on her keyboard and they all watched as she typed at an alarming speed with her pen still in her hand.

"Anndddd done! We have seventeen lovely ladies here, one of them passed away a week ago and three have recently moved to other California cities. So we're down to thirteen now. Up first we have Miss Daniella Olson, twenty-three, and worked as a sales clerk for Knight's Knives up until two months ago... hmmm. Possible unsub? Oh wait, she stopped working at Knight's because she sustained debilitating injuries from a car crash. That's unfortunate. Up next is Kiya Driscoll, thirty years old and living in eastern LA. Geographically she doesn't look like a match, but let me see what comes up when I dig a little deeper."

After less than a minute, Garcia had managed to take a deep look into Kiya's life and left no stone unturned. "She's squeaky clean, moving on. Belle Jones, twenty-five and also in the hospital. Hmmm... change of plans, my lovelies, I will get back to you when I have a list of possible unsubs."

They discussed the case while Garcia looked into each of the girls' backgrounds.

Hotch's deep voice suddenly boomed through the jet, "These unsubs are experienced, they have likely experimented in other states, which would explain how their kills were so clean right off the bat. The only problem is that when I looked into it, there were no similar cases except for one case in Las Vegas from nineteen-ninety-nine. There was only one suspect, Darla Sutton, but there was never enough evidence to convict her. Our current case also profiled that we would be dealing with a team of young killers, Darla is already in her late sixties. We could be dealing with copycats or even an apprentice of some kind. Garcia, can you change the search to include anyone who has ever been affiliated with Darla Sutton?"

"Yes, Sir, already ahead of you!" Chirped Garcia. "Allow me to introduce you to Miss Ophelia Sutton, Darla's daughter. Thirty-seven years old and she has not worked in four years, but lemme tell you, this girl is rich. Like, buy a house on the moon rich. She graduated from MIT when she was seventeen and went straight into huge engineering companies like Z-Tech and Cormac & Robles, she was able to reach the top by the time she was twenty-one and she's made enough money to sustain several families for at least fifty yea–"

Spencer's eyes widened in shock and he completely zoned out as Garcia droned on. How was it possible that the girl he knew so well as a child was now their prime suspect? She had been his best friend, stuck with him through thick and thin, yet here he was staring at a photo of her and not recognizing her in the slightest. He could see the evil in her eyes, but it had not been there when they were friends. Back then, he saw everything good in the world swimming in her smile, that was all gone now. He blamed himself for this, he did not fight hard enough for Ophelia's friendship, if he had, they might not be in this position.

Of course, it was not Ophelia's fault that Garcia had now found her, but rather Cat's. Cat had gotten a bit lazy while designing their M.O. and copied Darla's almost to the tee because she thought it made the most sense. This was, however, a detail that Cat never disclosed to Ophelia. It was the reason why she had insisted so adamantly that Ophelia had to leave, why she had been so worried that Spencer would catch them both. If anything happened to Ophelia, it would all be because of her mistake. While Cat did modify a few things, it clearly was not enough to keep the BAU from noticing the connection. Maybe prison really had damaged Cat's once perfect abilities, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

Spencer drew his eyes away from the screen and tried to hide his feelings of disappointment, but JJ always seemed to notice. She whispered into Spencer's ear, "Hey, Spence, what's wrong?"

He jumped, frightened by the nickname she used. She was the only one besides Ophelia that ever called him Spence, "Oh, it's nothing JJ, I just got worried for a moment, I thought I had forgotten to call the institution where my mom is staying to ask if I could visit her after the case. Nothing serious."

"Whatever you say, Spence, I'm always here to talk." JJ looked at Spencer worriedly and tried to take his explanation at face value, but she could tell that he was still hiding something, especially since he never forgets anything.

They wrapped up their briefing and Spencer remained quiet, worried about what to do. He was not close with Ophelia anymore, they had not spoken in over two decades, but a part of him wondered if he should excuse himself from the case. Eventually, he decided to stay on the case and not say anything to Hotch because it was just an old friendship. Ophelia did not have an eidetic memory like him and probably would not even remember him. Spencer found solace in this thought, essentially ignoring that he would have to arrest his only childhood friend.

When they landed in Los Angeles, Spencer thought of how ironic his situation was. He hoped that Ophelia's name coming up was just a false alarm, that they had pinned the case on the wrong unsub. But so far, all of the signs were pointing to her and they would definitely need her to cooperate to find her partner.

On their way to LAPD's headquarters, Spencer fidgeted with his hands, still debating telling Hotch about his relationship with Ophelia. He figured that it could go one of two ways: Hotch would kick him off of the case and berate him for not speaking up sooner, or he would be used as bait to extract an emotional response from Ophelia, that is if she remembered him at all. When they got to the station though, Spencer was immediately cut off by the Chief who insisted that he needed to give them a thirty-minute guided tour of the station.

He walked at an excruciatingly slow pace, slowed even further by his co-workers stopping them every few steps to ask about the case. They were shown the kitchen, the bathrooms, his office, the garage, and literally every room except for the one where they were supposed to set up. By the time that the tour was over, there was not even enough time for Reid to have a quick talk with Hotch. They were now twenty minutes behind schedule and had to grab everything from the cars and rush to set up their space. Prentiss and Reid worked together to set up the computers, connecting them to Garcia, while Rossi worked on printing and pinning physical copies of the crime scene reports and photos. Hotch and JJ were running between the cars and the conference room trying to get everyone's belongings inside as quickly as possible since it was beginning to rain and they would be unable to get their stuff out later without wetting it.

As soon as everyone was settled in, they jumped straight into working on their game plan, plotting how they would approach Ophelia. They figured that their best bet was to send one team to search the apartment, and another to search the house. Rossi, JJ, and Reid were being sent to the house, whereas Hotch and Prentiss were going to check the apartment. It was a solid plan and only took a few calls to execute. They had just arrived in LA and they were already on the verge of a breakthrough. It all seemed to be moving so quickly, too easily, and Spencer felt that they were being drawn into a trap of some kind. But since they were employing the help of a S.W.A.T. team, he figured that there was not much to worry about and carried along with the plan. In two hours Ophelia Sutton would no longer be a free woman, and she was not going to go down easily.

0 notes

redjayson · 7 years

Note

I just thought about what if Jason accidentally fakes his death? Like the batfam thought his still in a warehouse or something when it blew, and his comms destroyed so they can't call him, and he just went to a safe house after to sleep and like he doesn't know until a few weeks later when he shows up at the manor to meet up with Alfred for tea.

would it be better or worse if he wasn’t even really getting along with the rest of the family at that point? either way you play it, jason has a bunch of redundancies for his safe houses, and he was trained just as well as any of them. there has to be at least one or two he’s managed to keep secret from the rest of the bats.

jay doesn’t really make a habit of carrying explosives in his helmet anymore; that was really more of a one-off when he first came back to gotham. since then, he generally just carries more explosives with him to make up for it. because of that, and because he’s usually fighting standard-grade humans, it’s not all that likely that he tosses his helmet aside in the middle of a fight.

a warehouse blows. red hood was in it, they know that (it all but had “This Is A Trap For Red Hood” written all over it), and when searching it, the bats find the badly burnt remnants of hood’s shattered helmet. no body, but –

it’s easy to assume the worst. it’s already happened once, after all. they hold on to hope for a week, but they haven’t been able to find any sign of jason. he can’t be raised on his comms, he hasn’t been in any of the safe houses that they know of, oracle couldn’t find any sign of him on cameras.

no sign of him in a hospital or even leslie’s clinic, no body matching his description in the morgue. (that last doesn’t mean anything. no body at the warehouse, but someone had set the trap – they could have easily dumped it somewhere else.)

there’s no sign of him, living or dead, anywhere in the city so far as they can tell.

red hood’s been throwing himself into ever-escalating fights since he came back to gotham, and finally they have to assume that this time, his luck didn’t hold long enough for him to get out.

the family sinks into some kind of shock. it’s impossible to believe that they lost him again.

it’s not something that can even be explained to the public. how do you explain that you’re in fresh mourning for a son and brother that was declared dead over half a decade ago?

then again, all the bats are good at hiding how they feel.

they mourn quietly, but they mourn.

what happened is this:

jason walks himself straight into a trap. he usually ascribes to obi-wan kenobi’s philosophy regarding them, but this time –

it wasn’t a good idea to spring the trap.

there are more men than jason realized there would be. one of them gets a lucky shot, glancing off his helmet and leaving him staggering long enough for another to slam his head down against the concrete floor. jason sweeps his attackers legs out from under him and rolls away, taking cover behind a crate, but his helmet is cracked and partially shattered all along one side.

jason really regrets not having explosives in his helmet anymore, though given all the different kinds of explosives he can see scattered around the warehouse, that might not be a very good option right now anyway.

(why in the hell do they have so many explosives–? but he doesn’t really have time to think about it.)

jason pulls his helmet off, because blood is dripping steadily down from a cut above one of his eyes, where the helmet splintered inwards, and at this point it will only hinder him.

these henchmen, though. they were just paid to make sure that he stayed in the warehouse long enough. as soon as he walked in, the timer was counting down. when jason ducks back around the crate he sheltered behind, they’ve scattered.

jason swears when he sees the flickering red numbers. it’s not a scream; he can’t waste the breath. it’s one quiet invective and then he’s running for it, the way that he hadn’t been able to in ethiopia.

he grapples up and slams through a window, scattering glass everywhere, just as the timer hits zero. the bomb goes off. the very edges of the explosion catch him, flinging him away.

a moment of free-fall, a terrifying reminder of ethiopia when he feels the heat of the blast, a brief thought of no, please no, not again–

jason rolls over onto his back, coughing. blood is still trailing down his face; he has to rub it off one of the lenses of his domino mask. he’s pretty sure he has a concussion. he tries to sit up and he definitely has cracked ribs.

jason gets up carefully, trying to make sure nothing is moving around in his body where it’s not supposed to, and then he staggers away. he’s not staying around to give them a second shot at him.

it’s instinct to avoid the cameras. there aren’t as many in this part of the city anyway, and jason likes it that way. it’s near one of the few safe houses he’s sure hasn’t been compromised, and he’d like to keep it that way.

he’d definitely like to lick his wounds in peace.

it’s not that he thinks any of the bats are going to come after him. he doesn’t even think about the fact that they’ll probably know that he was at that warehouse. he just doesn’t want them butting in on his business, which they’ve done a couple of times at some of his other safe houses.

jason does cursory first aid when he gets back to his safe house. he pays more attention to re-arming his security, and by the time he gets around to dealing with his body, he can tell he’s probably about to pass out. he’s got a bunch of scrapes – nothing too bad, though a few are deeper and bleeding more than he really wants to deal with right now – and he’s pretty sure none of his ribs are out and out broken. he should probably get medical attention for the concussion.

he’ll drop by leslie’s clinic tomorrow, if he really needs to.

jason gets his armor off, makes sure all his guns are unloaded, and then he’s in his bed and unconscious.

he’s pleasantly surprised to wake up in the morning. looks like he didn’t overlook anything life-threatening.

he’s still kind of a mess, though. the ribs alone are going to take a week at least before he’ll be able to go back out on the street. he could push it, but between the threat of breaking them for real and how much pain he’s in just getting up and going to the bathroom, he’ll allow that in this case, healing is the better idea.

he doesn’t even think about the bats. their relationship is still rocky at best, though at least it no longer involves any murder attempts. he was given comms to talk with them, but he hasn’t used them very much.

(he didn’t notice the earpiece getting busted at the warehouse the night previous. he varied between carrying them around in his pockets in case he needed them and actually wearing them, even if he didn’t use them, but he’d been more concerned with saving his damn life than thinking about where he had placed fragile machinery.

when he finally notices, a couple days later, he figures he can ask barbara the next time he swings by the clocktower. she’s infinitely easier to talk to than any of the other bats are.)

jason’s safe house is well stocked. he doesn’t need to leave for a good while yet. there’s a reason this is his favorite – and most well hidden – safe house.

after a few days, though, he starts going stir crazy. he can’t go out and do anything, but he’s dying by inches in here, waiting to be able to draw a full breath that doesn’t leave him wheezing in pain. there’s only so much daytime tv he can watch, and even when he concentrates on combing through gotham news and networks, it’s to find that a) there’s nothing big happening because b) the bats have been coming down hard on criminals this past week, and c) on top of that disappointment, jason can’t get at his damn contacts to tell him what’s happening on the street level but d) it looks like bats have been prowling along his patrol routes anyway, damn them, and e) apparently it was a good idea to hole up in his best safe house because f) he’s gotten alerts from at least two of his safe houses that they’ve been broken into by people who can only be bats. he assumes more than just the two of them were broken into, but the last one they must have been able to disable his security.

he spends a pleasant time trying to redesign his security systems when he can’t see what the bats avoided or tripped up on. it’s something else to pay attention to, anyway.

he wonders why exactly they’re trying to find him, but since they’re the ones that broke into his places, he’s not really inclined to give them a response. they can call him if they really need to get into contact with him.

(it’s about then that he realizes the comm was destroyed, and that the only phone number he gave them was to a burner that hasn’t been charged in a week and is currently lying abandoned in his second-favorite safe house.

he doesn’t care that much.

they’re not a real family. they haven’t been for a long time, if they ever were.)

“fuck,” jason hisses on the ninth day, staring at the date on his phone and the reminder that’s popped up.

tea with alfred, because that’s one relationship jason is willing to cling to, and it’s fun to hack into bruce’s schedule and figure out what times he’ll be out. jason doesn’t want to have to chance running into him at the manor. he sets the most likely dates in his calendar and goes if he’s feeling up to human company.

jason is definitely up for human company after this week. he’s so damn bored. and honestly, he would love nothing better than to drink tea with alfred and talk about books the way they did when he was younger.

(being laid up means he’s been reading a bunch of books in his endless free time. he’s just finished frankenstein and he has opinions.)

jason cleans himself up. he tries to make himself look presentable, not like he’s spent a week convalescing after a stupid mistake. he doubts it will fool alfred, but he has to at least try.

it’s a slightly uncomfortable ride to the manor, but jason grits his teeth and bears it. he parks his bike in its usual spot just outside the manor boundaries, and then he sneaks in. he could blatantly show up, let himself get caught on camera and everything, but that would defeat the whole purpose of constantly hacking bruce’s schedule and only swinging by when he was gone.

jason walks into the kitchen to see alfred dismally staring down into his tea cup. alfred looks up, something tired and old and sad in his eyes, and then he stands so abruptly that he actually knocks his tea cup off the table.

jason automatically tries to catch it, but his ribs yell so loudly at it that all jason accomplishes is an aborted motion and a barely-stifled sound of pain.

“master jason,” alfred said.

ow, fuck, jason thinks. “you need company for tea time?” he asks, only in part trying to cover that betraying wince. tea and company is what he’s here for, after all.

“you,” alfred says severely. “need to answer your comms when you find yourself in a bad situation, young man. at the very least, you might find it in yourself to tell us that you are still amongst the living!”

then alfred’s stepping around the table and grabbing jason in a hug.

“ow, fuck,” jason says, out loud this time. it’s kind of the only response that he can make to that statement. and the hug.

alfred draws back, eyeing him narrowly. “how badly are you injured?”

“it’s fine,” jason says dismissively. alfred gives him a look. “i busted up my ribs, but i should probably be fine in another week or two.” most everything else has healed up, or at least healed up enough that alfred can’t question him about it.

“the warehouse was quite obviously a trap,” alfred says.

you might find it in yourself to tell us that you are still amongst the living!

“oh,” jason says. he understands now. his shoulders hunch a little, defensively. “it’s fine. i’m fine.”

“yes, so it appears,” alfred says. “however, we did not know that.”

jason hunches even more defensively. he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

alfred sighs. in that moment, he looks all his years. “please,” he says. “we lost you once. don’t make us believe it’s happened another time.”

“sorry,” jason says. his eyes drop to the floor. there’s some kind of skewed humor, being back here and apologizing like nothing has changed in the time between, even if the apology is for accidentally faking his death rather than stealing cookies when he thought he could get away with it. it’s not very funny.

“would you care to join me for tea?” alfred asks, after a brief pause.

“yeah,” jason says. he looks up. “i would.”

#Anonymous #jason todd #my fic #julia writes #dc #alfred manages to drag the full story of what happened over tea #he takes care of telling the rest of the family because jason nearly bolts #at the mere idea of having to talk to the rest of the family #especially bruce #alfred is trying to slowly get jason to integrate back into the family #but this is a moment where it would probably only drive jason further away #emotions are running high in the entire family and jason Does Not Deal Well #with bruce's complete inability to do emotion wrt his son #oracle probably knows before alfred tells everyone bc She Knows All #and also jason finally left his safe house for the first time in a week and she caught him on camera #idk that the batfam would really take jason's '''death''' at so much face value but #idk idk he doesn't talk to them and he has a lot of enemies and he's already died once #whatever

127 notes · View notes

drawingsanddrabbles · 7 years

Text

Joke’s On You

Betaed by @ilovebeingintroverted

Chapter Eight: Red Hood and the Outlaws

so this is the second to last chappie of this story guys (not to worry--there will be a sequel and that thing that you think is a plot hole is setup for the sequel i swear im not just trying to get rid of him)

links

“Are you guys insane?” Tim asked as Cassie flew while carrying him. Bart ran below them, Conner flew by Cassie’s side.

“If it’ll shut you up, then yes. Where’s your place?” Cassie asked.

“I missed my rent so they probably dropped my stuff. Which… is bad, my weapons and laptop were there. But seriously guys? Cass-can you put me down for a second?”

“Nope. The Bats probably already know, don’t want to give them the advantage.” Conner said cheerfully.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You’ve met my family, right? This will do nothing. They’re going to go all out if you don’t put me back like, fifteen minutes ago.”

“Well then we’d better skedaddle.” Conner said.

Tim rolled his eyes. The last thing he expected was for Cassie to cry out before both of them began to plummet to the ground. Bart ran up a building and caught Tim in his arms, skidding across the roof. Conner swooped down to get Cassie before flying back up to the roof. Cassie mumbled something and pulled something out of her arm.

“Fu-fuck.” She garbled. “That do-es n-not look go-od.” She held up the dart looking at it with narrowed eyes, before she crumbled to the ground. Conner caught her and looked at Tim and Bart.

“Is that your family?” Kon asked.

Tim shook his head. He looked around, scanning the rooftops carefully. “No.”

He saw it. “Get down!” He ducked, watching as the bullets whizzed over his head and embedded themselves into the edge of the roof. Kon frowned and curled around an unconscious Cassie, shielding her with his TTK.

“What was that?” Bart cried.

“That was the League of Assassins. Get out of here.” Tim hissed.

“We’re not leaving you!”

Tim peeked out over the edge of the roof and did a quick scan. They were gone. Shit. Ra’s had finally caught up to him. “I said go. I’ll deal with this.”

“No-!”

“Tim Drake, time to come home.” Someone said. Tim whipped around. Two men and one woman, they all held guns and Tim could tell they had other weapons on their bodies. Huh. He recognized them.

“He is home.” Kon snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

Pru grinned, taking out a gun. “We’re the bloody recovery team, much to our displeasure.”

“Don’t-“ Tim began.

“You’re hard to find, Red Hood. Master ain’t happy.”

“Well,” Kon growled, “your master can suck my-“

Conner was interrupted by Tim, who had seen Pru grab for her gun. It was like someone was controlling him, he just… moved. Tim grabbed the gun away from the assassin, bashing his elbow into Pru’s nose. Pru cried out, releasing the weapon to clutch her bleeding nose and Z and Owens went for their own guns. Tim didn’t prefer guns, but since his time back he’d learned how to use them. Instinctively he raised his gun and shot at the assassins. The trio dove out of the way of the wave of bullets that Tim let loose.

Bart began to run and Owens shot after him, nearly hitting multiple times. Caught up in dodging the projectiles Bart was unable to help Tim when Z attacked. Kon tried but Pru took out a blade, one hand covering her gushing nose, and Kon let his aura rise. Pru cut through it with her knife narrowly missing Kon’s skin as he stumbled backwards from the surprise of the assassin bypassing his TTK. Crap, that meant that the knife was magic. Kon would actually have to fight and he would have to protect a still unconscious Cassie.

Tim was on his own against Z. Tim disarmed the gun in his hand mechanically, dodging Z’s spray of bullets. Tim kicked Z’s legs out from under him and wrestled the gun away from him, hands doing things that Tim couldn’t stop them from doing. They disassembled Z’s weapon and Tim hissed as Z stuck a knife into Tim’s arm. Tim stumbled away from the assassin and wrenched the blade from his arm. Somewhere in Tim’s mind the pain from his back and the pain from his cut mingled until he wasn’t sure which was which, just that he was in pain. Well, what else was new?

Tim ignored the pain. He ignored the blood that dripped down his arm in a steady stream. He ignored his friends fighting besides him. He just fought. This fight between him and Z, all the while Z was pleading with him, telling him that Z would win, that Tim knew that, that if Tim just surrendered then Z could take him back to the Master. The Master would be forgiving for Tim’s insolence when he ran away. Tim blocked out the words, blocked out sounds and just fought. He didn’t fight as well as Bruce, he didn’t fight as well as Damian, he didn’t fight as well as Ra’s. He couldn’t be one of them, not here, not now. No, he had to be all of them. He had to be better.

Tim noticed when he speared Z through the chest, somewhere in the darkest reaches of his mind he noticed and he tried to stop himself. Z fell to the ground, a shocked look on his face. Tim tried to stop, he tried to hurt or maim but that part of him, that part that Tim thought Ra’s must have awakened somehow, it drove him to his next victim. With a swift slash of his knife he cut through Owen’s neck, blood spurting over his face. Bart sat in defensive position on the roof, eyes wide, mouth open. Owens’s blood burst from him as his corpse fell to the ground with a thud. Tim then was going at Pru, he didn’t even know he was doing it.

The British killer shouted profanities, as she tried to avoid Tim’s attacks. Conner was much in the same position as Bart, all he could do was watch as his best friend murdered two people, working on his third. Pru cursed Tim and she cursed Ra’s for training him this way and all the while Tim couldn’t understand what he was doing, and why he couldn’t stop. Tim backed the woman up to the edge of the roof and with one last lunge Pru was shoved off of the building. Tim heard the splat, looking over to make sure she’d died was unnecessary.

Tim stood at the edge of that roof, chest heaving. His body locked into that position and all he saw was red. For what seemed like forever he thought he was trapped in his own body, unable to make himself feel grief or remorse (they were trying to kill you they would have killed you friends but this was… wrong this was all wrong!), he couldn’t even make himself put that goddamned knife down.

“Tim?” Bart asked, breaking whatever spell Tim felt like he had been under. A flood of sensation, a flood of feeling. Tim dropped the knife like it was diseased (it was he was sure it was) and wiped Owens’s blood from his eyes and mouth. “Tim, are you okay?”

Tim shook his head. He really wasn’t.

He looked at the bodies around him. Z, Owens, and… these people. They’d worked with him during his time with the League. They’d fought back to back. Tim had just killed them and he didn’t feel right. He just didn’t. They were trying to kill you. His right arm (the one that Z had stabbed) felt like lead. It fell limp at his side and he bit back the pain that coursed through his body.

He bent down next to Z, searching his body.

“Tim, Tim man what just happened?” Conner asked, handing Cassie to Bart who propped her up against his side.

He needed- He needed to find it. His hands ran down Z’s corpse checking for any hidden pockets. Here! Tim pulled out a small vial and tossed it to Bart. “Smelling salts.” He told the speedster, nodding to their Amazonian friend. Bart immediately waved the vial under Cassie’s nose and Cassie took a second to slowly get her bearings.

“What the hell happened here?” She asked.

Bart nodded to his other two friends, the ex-dead one of the two still bent down by the black-skinned corpse. “Tim happened.”

“What the fuck was that, Tim? Are you just going to ignore me after massacring three people?” Kon cried.

Tim should have told them. They never would have broken him out if they’d known. This was Tim’s fault, all his fault (it always was). “I’ll explain later.” Tim told Kon, coming up with the object of his body search of Z.

He held the small microphone to his mouth. “Gotham is off limits. I am off limits. Let me go.” He dropped the microphone and crushed it beneath his bare foot.

Tim turned to his three friends. Each of them clearly concerned though he could tell, no matter how hard they tried to hide it, they were horrified too. “I have a lot to tell you.”

“I have a lot to tell you.” Batman told his co-workers. Superman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash stood in the Batcave, each as clueless about the intentions behind the sentence as the next. The original crew Teen Titans stood by Batman and his protégées. Oracle sat at the computer, and Nightwing leaned against the dashboard.

“You… might want to sit down.” Robin suggested.

That was… concerning.

“What’s going on Batsy?” The Flash asked. Batman turned to Oracle and nodded to her. She typed something into the computer and pulled up a blurry picture of a man in a jacket and a red helmet.

Superman cocked an eyebrow. “So?”

“He calls himself the Red Hood.” Batman explained. “He showed up a few days ago as a vigilante. At least that’s what he seemed to be.”

“Is it just me or does anyone else find it ironic that the city with the most vigilantes has a self-professed Anti-Social Head Vigilante?” The Flash asked. Batman narrowed his eyes and Flash shut his mouth.

“Recently the Riddler was causing mayhem in downtown Gotham, when we arrived to apprehend him the Red Hood was there. In the midst of battle a bomb went off, the Red Hood had curled himself around Robin, probably saving his life, however he caused harm to himself so after the Riddler was subdued we brought him here to be operated on in private.”

“Is… there a point to this story?” Wonder Woman asked.

Batman glared at her but continued. “When he first appeared we did not know his identity. Now we do.” He nodded to Oracle again. She pulled up the DNA test and waited for the three other heroes’ responses.

“Seriously?” Superman asked after a pause for the trio to process.

“How?” Flash cried.

“Great Hera…”

“Which brings us to the reason you three are here,” Batman continued, “we found out who had brought him back. Ra’s Al Ghul, and he sent some of his assassins after the Red Hood in the wake of… what we assume is his escape.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

Batman looked at Nightwing who tensed. “We felt it appropriate to tell Timothy’s friends. Your own sidekicks.” The ex-Robin said.

The Flash’s face fell. “You didn’t…” He whispered.

“Are you insane?” Superman cried. “You told them before us?”

“We see now that that was a mistake.” Batman agreed.

“Mistake? Bruce you have met our charges, right? Bruce, are you fucking insane? What did they do?” It was weird to hear Superman swear.

“Come see for yourself.” Nightwing invited. He led the three heroes to the cell window where a new gaping hole had appeared in the opposite wall.

“What-what is this?” Wonder Woman asked.

“This is Tim’s old recovery chamber.”

“You locked your not-dead kid in a cell?” Superman breathed, horrified.

“The current problem is the large hole which your protégées created.” Batman insisted.

“Yeah. Sure.” Superman glared at Batman with a look that said ‘we’ll talk about that later.’

Flash leaned heavily back against the wall behind him. Eyes wide behind a mask. “Oh my god. Bart’s all on his own.” He glanced at the others. “I mean, he’s not but you guys have met Bart. Him? And… Tim? He’ll do anything Tim’ll tell him to do, and by the look of it you’re not very excited about him coming back. And assassins?” Flash rubbed his hands over his mask.

“We are all worried for our charges, Flash, I am sure Cassandra will take care of Bartholomew.”

“Oh Rao.” Superman whispered. “Conner.”

Flamebird’s eyes widened and he was at his father’s side, hand on his back. “Dad, he’ll be okay. It won’t be like last time.”

“Last time…?” Batman asked.

Flamebird shot the Caped Crusader a glare. “Like you care.”

“Jon…” Nightwing tried.

Superman looked like he was going to cry, so Flamebird enlightened the Batman. “Superboy didn’t take Robin’s death well. None of his friends did, but for Kon it was… bad.”

“It was bad for all of them.” Batman said softly. “All of us. But now, with them in Gotham, I need your help. We know Timothy’s new plan, we know what he wants to do. We need your help. And if Tim’s plan goes through you might want to be first on the ground, you’ll want to convince them to make a plea bargain.”

“Plea bargain? Bats, what is Tim planning?”

Batman grimaced.

Selina wondered when the warmth would come. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the Gotham cold, it was impossible not to, but a little warmth on these chilly nights would be nice. She ran her fingers over the small envelope in her hands. The Batlight shown in the sky. It was almost a fixed structure there despite the Batman not even being in the city at times. But he was here tonight.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Miss Kyle.” The Batman greeted. Selina smiled and turned around. Wonder Woman, The Flash, Superman, and all of his little birds.

“I do wish you wouldn’t use my real name near strangers, dear.”

She could tell the other Justice League heroes were uncomfortable with her, though the kids seemed used to the flirtation. “Catwoman, why have you called me?”

Selina looked down at the letter between her hands. She handed it over to the Batman. “This was sent to me. I won’t be going, not my style, but I still received an invitation. I thought you should know.”

Batman looked at the envelope before opening it to read the message inside. “So, why the reunion?” she asked.

“Family business.” Nightwing said.

“You know, I haven’t seen the Red Hood on the street recently… Is that because of you?”

“Yes.”

“So you know.” She stated.

Batman looked up at that. “You know?”

“I’ve known for a while, Batman. He-he came to me. He said something like this might happen. He said you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“He was friends with Superboy, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl. Right?”

No one responded.

Batman’s face barely even twitched when he finished the letter. “Thank you for this, Selina.”

“Anytime, love. But next time? Don’t bring your friends and we’ll have some fun.” She winked at Batman and she heard a muffled laugh from the Flash.

Batman smirked. She loved that smirk, it only appeared every so often but when it did… “See you later, Selina.”

Selina blew him a kiss and then jumped off the roof, feeling the Gotham cold rake her skin. What she wouldn’t give for it to be warm again.

“Listen, we aren’t going to hurt you.” Tim said softly. Tamara Fox continued to stare wide-eyed at her new house-guests. Then she screamed. Bart was on her in a second, securing his hand over her mouth.

“Tamara, Tam! We aren’t going to hurt you!” Tim hissed when the muffled screaming stopped. “Kid Flash will let go of your mouth if you won’t scream, okay? We just need to crash here tonight.” Tamara said something which was obscured by Bart’s hand. Tim nodded and Bart dropped his hand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” She asked petulantly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’d recognize that face anywhere, you’re Tim Drake.”

She was the first person to have recognized him. “You… what?”

“I mean, you’re clearly older and your voice is deeper, but you’re clearly Tim Drake. You have the same eyes and way of moving… I should know, videos and pictures of you are almost all that’s used for stock photos around Wayne Enterprises. That motivational video you were in to promote work proficiency? On repeat in Dad’s labs.”

Tim felt his face heat. “That’s still used?”

“Yeah. Your voice cracks in it,” he heard Kon snort behind him, “sometimes Bruce Wayne just stands in front of it and watches it. So why are you alive again? With… um, superheroes and breaking into my house?”

“Uh…” Tim didn’t really know what to say.

Tamara raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “Well…?”

“It’s a long story, Tam. But it’ll all be over soon, okay?”

“Tim-“ Bart interrupted. Cassie hit him for using Tim’s real name and he looked at her sheepishly. “What? She already knows.”

“Am I the only one fazed by the fact that Tim Drake is both alive and for some reason friends with Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, and Superboy?” Tam asked insistently.

“We’ve been over it already. Like Tim said, long story. But right now we have something to do, we’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Cassie explained.

“Again, really sorry about this.” Tim apologized.

Tam frowned but wiggled herself out of Bart’s grasp. She walked over to her kitchen and took out a glass from the cabinet. She filled it with water from the tap and watched the four vigilantes carefully. “What do you need?” She finally asked.

Tim was never more grateful for Tam than then. For a moment everything seemed almost more than perfect. He was alive. He was with his friends. He had help and people who wanted to help him and best of all he was going to finish what he wanted to do. What he had to do. Everything would soon be right. Soon be perfect.

“Well I’m starving!” Moment over.

Not that he could blame Bart, the poor kid probably hadn’t eaten in an hour.

Tam smiled. “Sure, food’s in the-“ there was a whoosh and in a second all of Tam’s drawers and cabinets were open and Bart had made a sandwich definitely too big for his mouth, “-pantry.” Tam’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the remains of her kitchen and the speedster on the floor stuffing his mouth with sandwich.

“Does… um, does he do that often?” Tam asked.

The other three vigilantes nodded.

“Good thing you’re only staying one night. Otherwise I’ll be broke. What about the rest of you? Do you guys need anything?”

“No, thank you Tam.” Tim declined. Conner and Cassie did too.

Cassie gave Tim a meaningful look. “Besides, we need to talk.” She added.

Tam shrugged. “Me casa es su casa, I guess. You can use the bedroom if you need privacy.”

Tim, Cassie, and Conner moved to Tam’s bedroom. Bart glanced up as the three left the room and dashed over, bringing his food with him. He sat on Tam’s bed and munched cheerfully.

“So what’s the game plan, Tim?” Conner asked.

Tim rubbed his hands together and began to pace. He hadn’t really thought about it before. By looking at his friends’ faces it was clear they hadn’t either. They’d broken him out of his cell with no plan, because they believed he had one. They always knew he had a plan. Now he had to figure one out, quickly. He didn’t have any equipment anymore, he had been stripped of it when Alfred operated on him. He needed weapons, he couldn’t get any good guns on this short notice but he could always use a staff. Staffs were his better weapon anyway. He needed some type of costume too. He couldn’t work on building anything, didn’t have the time. No, he needed something he could throw on and use. A sweatshirt maybe… he looked down at his clothes.

And pants. Real pants would be nice too.

“Tim?” Cassie asked.

“Huh?” Tim asked, breaking from his thoughts.

“What’s next?”

“Next we get me some clothes and some Advil. And after that, we kill the Joker.”

“You can turn back, at any time, at any moment.” Batman told his partners. “If it gets too dangerous, Robin, I want you to go back to the Cave.”

“Nah.” Robin said. “What good would a Robin be if he listened to Batman?” Batman glared at his partner and Batgirl nudged him fondly.

“He has a point.” She said.

Batman turned to Wonder Woman. “At least your protégé respects your decisions.”

“Batman, if she did we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Yeah B, chill a little.” Oracle said from the comms.

If Batman could glare at Oracle he would have. It was odd to Clark, the way that Batman seemed so angry when he clearly wasn’t. He loved banter with his kids, and he cherished working with them. Even if he never said it himself. Clark missed that. And Clark worried.

Tim had been Kon’s best friend. They’d always talked, they’d had sleepovers. Ma had made him pie. He’d slept on Clark’s extra mattress and the two of them had huddled together on his couch. They’d had popcorn fights and had left empty soda bottles on his floor. Clark had come home to his Metropolis apartment to see a cheesy horror flick burning on his TV screen and two teenagers curled up together on his couch. Kon had been drooling.

Kon used to listen for his heartbeat.

One night, at his grave Kon had talked to Clark about it. He told Clark how he would always listen to Tim’s heartbeat when they were in battle. The simple sound was very calming. It was pleasing.

Kon had missed Tim’s heartbeat disappearing. He hadn’t even known to worry.

Kon blamed himself for Tim’s death.

Clark worried about him. He knew Kon would die for Tim, he wondered if Tim knew that too.

Speaking of heartbeats to listen to, Clark tuned into Bruce’s. It beat like a hummingbird, feather light and fast. He checked the others, Barry’s was similar to Bruce but it was heavier like footsteps trampling down a hall. Then there was Diana, strong and steady just like her. Jon, his beautiful son Jon who’s heart beat with worry, with adrenaline. He shifted over to Lois who was safe in her apartment in Metropolis, she should be asleep but she wasn’t. Her heart beat with the hint caffeine. Lana was sleeping like a normal person. Pete was… oh. Oh. Clark quickly changed subjects, that was something he didn’t want to hear. He listened to Jimmy, who was also sleeping.

Wait a second… Ma and Pa sounded like…

Clark.

Clark please come back,

Something’s happened. A spaceship.

Clark hurry!

“I have to go.” Clark said abruptly. Batman looked at his friend quizzically. Or as quizzically as Bruce ever looked with the cowl.

“Is everything… alright, Superman?”

“N-no I have to go.” Ma and Pa were begging for him.

“What, there’s something more important that saving Kon?” Flamebird cried.

“Right now, yes. I-I have to go. Jon, take care of Kon for me, please. I-please.” Clark whispered. Jon nodded slowly, angrily. He’d explain to Jon later. Jon would understand. Clark took off. Hopefully everything would go well.

Clark closed his eyes, he didn’t need them to fly back to Smallville he could fly home on instinct, and he listened, as Kon used to so often, for Tim’s heartbeat.

“Red looks good on you.” Conner said as he helped Tim put a numbing ointment on his back. Tim was staring at the red sweatshirt that Tam had managed to acquire when they asked her to go out and get him pants and a shirt. It was soft and the sensation felt nice against his hands. It was plain red which was good because if they failed they would need to hide and be unidentifiable.

Tim grinned, then winced from the cold substance. Conner applied it more gently. “It’s our colors.” He said.

“Huh?” Kon asked confused.

“Red and black.” Tim said, rubbing a hand over the (black) pants that Tamara had bought for him. “Our colors.”

“You wore gold, black, and green last time we worked together.”

“Yeah, but I always liked the red.” Red Hood. Kon didn’t respond. His large hands kneaded carefully into Tim’s back. “So can they be our colors?”

“Yeah.” He could hear the Kryptonian’s smile. “Of course.”

Callused hands on a marred back. Soft like snow and warm like smile. Tim closed his eyes, cold gel clung to his back. He felt comfortable. He felt safe. For the first time in a long while he felt safe.

And it would all end. All of it. Again.

Well there went the mood.

“I missed you, you know.”

“I know.”

“A lot. I thought-“ There was a shudder of breath and Kon’s hands stopped moving. “-you don’t know what it was like, Tim. Going to your funeral. Missing your death because,” he choked on a sob, “because I didn’t check in on you.”

Tim turned around to see tears dripping down his friend’s face. Tim touched Kon’s tanned cheek, swiping the droplets away. “Hey. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

Kon wept silently, eyes open and full of tears. “It is.” He whispered.

“You. Couldn’t. Have. Known.” Tim told him. “You couldn’t have. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Kon. I really am.”

“Tim, do you know what it’s like? To have your best friend die? To leave you alone? Tim, do you know what I tried to do?”

“No.” But he could imagine. Tim didn’t know what he would have done if it had been Kon who had died.

Kon shook his head, pulling away from Tim. He rubbed at his slightly red eyes. “C’mon turn around, we have places to be.” He mumbled.

“Do-do you want to talk about this?”

“I’m fine, Tim.”

Clearly he wasn’t, but Tim didn’t want to push. So he turned back around and let Kon finish numbing the pain in his back. When he was done Tim pulled on the sweatshirt and pulled up the hood.

The two of them walked back into the main room and Tam handed Tim his weapon—a bo staff she’d found in a BatStash of weapons at a Wayne Enterprises facility. He swung it a few times, it was too light for his taste, but it would do.

“So what now?” Bart asked.

“Depends, did you get what I asked for?” Tim responded.

Bart nodded and handed the dark domino mask to him. “Theshortchickwhogaveittometoldmetothankyouagain. Saidthatifyouwantedtobuytwoyoumustreallybeafan. Guess she doesn’t knowhuh?”

Tim grinned and put it on his face. He turned to his friends with a flourish (thank god for Advil and numbing cream, his pain was blissfully subdued). “How do I look?”

Cassie raised an eyebrow. “Like the Red Hood actually makes sense as a name now.”

“Yeah, dude.” Kon said with a soft smile, all tears forgotten. “A helmet is not a hood.”

“It was supposed to be ironic.” Tim said, rolling his eyes behind white lenses.

“Well it was stupid.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at his friends who froze. Including Bart. “What?” He asked startled.

“You,” Cassie looked at Bart who finished the sentence for her.

“You looked like you used to. With,” he waved at his own face, “the mask and everything.”

Oh.

“Well, let’s go kick some ass like we used to.” Tim said. His friends laughed and they were off.

#diana writes #diana writes batman #joke's on you #robin!reversal #red hood and the outlaws

4 notes · View notes

inloveandwords · 5 years

Text

I’m participating in 2 readathons (Magical Readathon & Fantasyathon) in April as well as the Dragons & Tea Book Club and my Talk Darcy to Me book club, so every book on this list is part of those.

If you’d like to watch the video instead, you can check it out here:

youtube

April Reading List

These are all books that I own and want to read this month! Titles link to Goodreads.

A Curse So Dark and Lonely (A Curse So Dark and Lonely #1) by Brigid Kemmerer

Fall in love, break the curse.

It once seemed so easy to Prince Rhen, the heir to Emberfall. Cursed by a powerful enchantress to repeat the autumn of his eighteenth year over and over, he knew he could be saved if a girl fell for him. But that was before he learned that at the end of each autumn, he would turn into a vicious beast hell-bent on destruction. That was before he destroyed his castle, his family, and every last shred of hope.

Nothing has ever been easy for Harper Lacy. With her father long gone, her mother dying, and her brother barely holding their family together while constantly underestimating her because of her cerebral palsy, she learned to be tough enough to survive. But when she tries to save someone else on the streets of Washington, DC, she’s instead somehow sucked into Rhen’s cursed world.

Break the curse, save the kingdom.

A prince? A monster? A curse? Harper doesn’t know where she is or what to believe. But as she spends time with Rhen in this enchanted land, she begins to understand what’s at stake. And as Rhen realizes Harper is not just another girl to charm, his hope comes flooding back. But powerful forces are standing against Emberfall . . . and it will take more than a broken curse to save Harper, Rhen, and his people from utter ruin.

+++

Because You Love to Hate Me: 13 Tales of Villainy

Leave it to the heroes to save the world–villains just want to rule the world.

In this unique YA anthology, thirteen acclaimed, bestselling authors team up with thirteen influential BookTubers to reimagine fairy tales from the oft-misunderstood villains’ points of view.

These fractured, unconventional spins on classics like “Medusa,” Sherlock Holmes, and “Jack and the Beanstalk” provide a behind-the-curtain look at villains’ acts of vengeance, defiance, and rage–and the pain, heartbreak, and sorrow that spurned them on. No fairy tale will ever seem quite the same again!

+++

Defy the Stars (Constellation #1) by Claudia Gray

She’s a soldier – Noemi Vidal is willing to risk anything to protect her planet, Genesis, including her own life. To their enemies on Earth, she’s a rebel.

He’s a machine – Abandoned in space for years, utterly alone, Abel’s advanced programming has begun to evolve. He wants only to protect his creator, and to be free. To the people of Genesis, he’s an abomination.

Noemi and Abel are enemies in an interstellar war, forced by chance to work together as they embark on a daring journey through the stars. Their efforts would end the fighting for good, but they’re not without sacrifice. The stakes are even higher than either of them first realized, and the more time they spend together, the more they’re forced to question everything they’d been taught was true.

+++

Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3) by Sarah J. Maas

When the Bat’s away, the Cat will play. It’s time to see how many lives this cat really has. . . .

Two years after escaping Gotham City’s slums, Selina Kyle returns as the mysterious and wealthy Holly Vanderhees. She quickly discovers that with Batman off on a vital mission, Batwing is left to hold back the tide of notorious criminals. Gotham City is ripe for the taking.

Meanwhile, Luke Fox wants to prove he has what it takes to help people in his role as Batwing. He targets a new thief on the prowl who seems cleverer than most. She has teamed up with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, and together they are wreaking havoc. This Catwoman may be Batwing’s undoing.

+++

Beautiful Mistake by Vi Keeland

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight—telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend–smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he’d done. Especially when that lazy smile graced his perfect face in response to my rant. Only it turned out, the man I’d just told off wasn’t the right guy. Oops. My mistake. Embarrassed, I slunk out without an apology. I was never going to see the handsome stranger again anyway, right? That’s what I thought…until I walked into class the next morning. Well, hello Professor West, I’m your new teaching assistant. I’ll be working under you…figuratively speaking. Although the literal interpretation might not be such a bad thing—working under Professor West. This was going to be interesting…

Reckless by Lex Martin

Reckless features Tori and Ethan and is a standalone companion to the USA Today bestseller Shameless.

Tori… For the record, I’m not going to hook up with my boss.

I’m a lot of things—a screwup, a basket case, a flunky. But when I take a nanny job to be near my pregnant sister, I swear to myself I’ll walk the straight and narrow, which means I cannot fall for my insanely hot boss.

I don’t want to be tempted by that rugged rancher. By his chiseled muscles or southern charm or the way he snuggles his kids at bedtime. Ethan Carter won’t get the key to my heart, no matter how much I want him.

Ethan… Between us, she’s the last thing I need as I finalize my hellish divorce.

What sane man trying to rebuild his life wants a hot nanny with long, sexy hair, curves for miles, and a smart mouth? A perfectly kissable, pouty mouth that I shouldn’t notice.

My focus is on my kids and my ranch, not the insufferable siren who sleeps in the room next to mine. It doesn’t matter that she wins over my kids in a heartbeat or runs my life better than I do. Tori Duran is the one woman I can’t have and shouldn’t want, no matter how much I crave her.

+++

Saga, Vol. 1 (Saga #1) by Brian K. Vaughan (Writer), Fiona Staples (Artist)

When two soldiers from opposite sides of a never-ending galactic war fall in love, they risk everything to bring a fragile new life into a dangerous old universe.

From bestselling writer Brian K. Vaughan, Saga is the sweeping tale of one young family fighting to find their place in the worlds. Fantasy and science fiction are wed like never before in this sexy, subversive drama for adults.

+++

A Study in Charlotte (Charlotte Holmes #1) by Brittany Cavallaro

The last thing Jamie Watson wants is a rugby scholarship to Sherringford, a Connecticut prep school just an hour away from his estranged father. But that’s not the only complication: Sherringford is also home to Charlotte Holmes, the famous detective’s great-great-great-granddaughter, who has inherited not only Sherlock’s genius but also his volatile temperament. From everything Jamie has heard about Charlotte, it seems safer to admire her from afar.

From the moment they meet, there’s a tense energy between them, and they seem more destined to be rivals than anything else. But when a Sherringford student dies under suspicious circumstances, ripped straight from the most terrifying of the Sherlock Holmes stories, Jamie can no longer afford to keep his distance. Jamie and Charlotte are being framed for murder, and only Charlotte can clear their names. But danger is mounting and nowhere is safe—and the only people they can trust are each other.

+++

The Looking Glass Wars (The Looking Glass Wars #1) by Frank Beddor

Alyss of Wonderland? When Alyss Heart, newly orphaned heir to the Wonderland throne, flees through the Pool of Tears to escape her murderous Aunt Redd, she finds herself lost and alone in Victorian London. Befriended by an aspiring author named Lewis Carrol, Alyss tells the violent, heartbreaking story of her young life. Alyss trusts this author to tell the truth so that someone, somewhere will find her and bring her home. But he gets the story all wrong. He even spells her name incorrectly!

Fortunately, Royal Bodyguard Hatter Madigan knows all too well the awful truth of Alyss’ story – and he’s searching every corner of our world to find the lost princess and return her to Wonderland, to battle Redd for her rightful place as the Queen of Hearts.

The Looking Glass Wars unabashedly challenges our Wonderland assumptions of mad tea parties, grinning Cheshire cats, and a curious little blond girl to reveal an epic battle in the endless war for Imagination.

+++

Seeing Redd (The Looking Glass Wars #2) by Frank Beddor

Alyss of Wonderland’s rule has only just begun, and already those who prefer chaos to peace are threatening to destroy everything worth imagining. Trailed by newly appointed royal bodyguard Homburg Molly, Alyss is doing her best to keep pace with the non-stop demands of being queen while attempting to evade Molly for a few private moments with Dodge.

Alyss’ life is a challenging mix of duty, love, and tough decisions, and then a series of phantom sightings set fire to an urban myth of Her Imperial Viciousness’ return and have everyone… seeing Redd.

Has Redd somehow freed herself and her chief assassin, The Cat, from the confines of the Heart Crystal? If not, then who has resurrected Redd’s brutal foot soldiers the Glass Eyes and set them loose to attack Wonderland on all sides?

Battles rage, looking glasses explode, and the Alyssians once again unite to defend White Imagination in this fast-paced follow-up to the New York Times best-selling The Looking Glass Wars.

Sadie by Courtney Summers

A missing girl on a journey of revenge. A Serial―like podcast following the clues she’s left behind. And an ending you won’t be able to stop talking about.

Sadie hasn’t had an easy life. Growing up on her own, she’s been raising her sister Mattie in an isolated small town, trying her best to provide a normal life and keep their heads above water.

But when Mattie is found dead, Sadie’s entire world crumbles. After a somewhat botched police investigation, Sadie is determined to bring her sister’s killer to justice and hits the road following a few meager clues to find him.

When West McCray―a radio personality working on a segment about small, forgotten towns in America―overhears Sadie’s story at a local gas station, he becomes obsessed with finding the missing girl. He starts his own podcast as he tracks Sadie’s journey, trying to figure out what happened, hoping to find her before it’s too late.

Courtney Summers has written the breakout book of her career. Sadie is propulsive and harrowing and will keep you riveted until the last page.

+++

ArchEnemy (The Looking Glass Wars #3) by Frank Beddor

Imagine this… The power of imagination has been lost!

Now it’s all about the artillery as AD52s, crystal shooters, spikejack tumblers, and orb cannons are unleashed in a war of weapons and brute force.

As Alyss searches wildly for the solution to the disaster that has engulfed her queendom, Arch declares himself King of Wonderland. The moment is desperate enough for Alyss to travel back to London for answers, where Arch’s assassins are threatening Alice Liddell and her family. But after coming to the Liddells’ assistance, Alyss discovers herself trapped in a conundrum of evaporating puddles. The shimmering portals that exist to transport her home through the Pool of Tears are disappearing!

What is happening in Wonderland? Deep within the Valley of Mushroom the Caterpillar Oracles issue this prophecy: “Action shall be taken to ensure the safety of the Heart Crystal. For Everqueen.” But who is Everqueen?

As the metamorphosis of Wonderland unfolds, enemies become allies, bitter rivals face off, and Queen Alyss and Redd Heart must both confront their pasts in this thrilling, no-holds-barred conclusion to the New York Times bestselling series.

+++

Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo

Welcome to the world of the Grisha.

Kaz Brekker and his crew of deadly outcasts have just pulled off a heist so daring even they didn’t think they’d survive. But instead of divvying up a fat reward, they’re right back to fighting for their lives.

Double-crossed and badly weakened, the crew is low on resources, allies, and hope. As powerful forces from around the world descend on Ketterdam to root out the secrets of the dangerous drug known as jurda parem, old rivals and new enemies emerge to challenge Kaz’s cunning and test the team’s fragile loyalties.

A war will be waged on the city’s dark and twisting streets – a battle for revenge and redemption that will decide the fate of the Grisha world.

+++

The Bone Witch (The Bone Witch #1) by Rin Chupeco

In the captivating start to a new, darkly lyrical fantasy series for readers of Leigh Bardugo and Sabaa Tahir, Tea can raise the dead, but resurrection comes at a price…

Let me be clear: I never intended to raise my brother from his grave, though he may claim otherwise. If there’s anything I’ve learned from him in the years since, it’s that the dead hide truths as well as the living.

When Tea accidentally resurrects her brother from the dead, she learns she is different from the other witches in her family. Her gift for necromancy means that she’s a bone witch, a title that makes her feared and ostracized by her community. But Tea finds solace and guidance with an older, wiser bone witch, who takes Tea and her brother to another land for training.

In her new home, Tea puts all her energy into becoming an asha-one who can wield elemental magic. But dark forces are approaching quickly, and in the face of danger, Tea will have to overcome her obstacles…and make a powerful choice.

+++

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie McLemore

To everyone who knows them, best friends Miel and Sam are as strange as they are inseparable. Roses grow out of Miel’s wrist, and rumors say that she spilled out of a water tower when she was five. Sam is known for the moons he paints and hangs in the trees, and for how little anyone knows about his life before he and his mother moved to town. But as odd as everyone considers Miel and Sam, even they stay away from the Bonner girls, four beautiful sisters rumored to be witches. Now they want the roses that grow from Miel’s skin, convinced that their scent can make anyone fall in love. And they’re willing to use every secret Miel has fought to protect to make sure she gives them up.

What are you reading this month?

April 2019 Reading List I'm participating in 2 readathons (Magical Readathon & Fantasyathon) in April as well as the…

#Reading List

0 notes

headquartersforlievmuses · 6 years

Text

► Cassandra Cain

Cassandra Cain is the fourth Batgirl. Born with the assassins David Cain and Lady Shiva as her parents, she was trained to become the perfect warrior. Her father deprived her of speech so she would learn movement and physicality as her first language. Batman adopted her into the Batman Family during No Man's Land, to replace Helena Bertinelli as Batgirl. Cassandra would eventually turn her Batgirl costume over to Stephanie Brown, and become a member of Batman Incorporated as Black Bat.

The daughter of David Cain and Sandra Wu-San (Lady Shiva), Cassandra Cain was conceived and trained from birth with the intention of creating the perfect bodyguard for Ra's al Ghul. After many unsuccessful attempts to train children from birth in martial arts to make them inculcate it like a native language (the most successful being The Mad Dog), David Cain, then a member of Ra's League of Assassins, decided the right genes were necessary to create this "Who Is All". With Ra's go ahead Cain searched for the perfect mother for this child, finding her in the Wu-San sisters of Detroit, who practiced martial arts with each other nearly every moment of their childhood in a type of sister's language. Cain sympathized with the younger sister, Sandra, when he noticed that she held back out of love for Carolyn. To "help" Sandra reach her full potential, Cain murdered Carolyn, then lured Sandra into an ambush by the League of Assassins, where he defeated her. Cain spared Sandra from death on the condition that she bear his child, and leave her for him to raise. Awed by the potential heights she could reach in her physical talents now that Carolyn was gone, Sandra agreed to Cain's bargain in order that she might go on to become the unstoppable force of nature known as Lady Shiva: creator and destroyer. Shiva's hope for her child was that she might one day grow to be the force that could stop her reign of destruction.

Trained by her father to be the ultimate weapon, Cassandra was not taught to speak. Instead, he relied mostly on actions to communicate with her. Also, he cut her off from the outside world, only exposing her to anything or anyone other than him only when absolutely necessary. As a result, the parts of her brain normally used for speech and language processing were trained so she could read other people's movements and body language to recognize their thoughts without verbal communication and predict, with uncanny accuracy, their next move in a fight. This also caused her brain to develop learning functions different from most, a form of dyslexia that hampers her ability to talk, read, and write.

When she was 8 years old, Cain decided his experiment had progressed far enough for him to test Cassandra's abilities in the real world, and took her to a hit; the target being Faizul, a 'book man' in Macau. At the time Cassandra had no idea what she was doing and believed it was only a game (an interpretation in keeping with her own reaction to what happened, and matching the interpretation of Alfred Pennyworth, an expert on children who saw a tape of events). After striking a deathblow, she "read" the target as he died, and saw death as he saw it.

In addition to scarring her emotionally, she realized murder, like her father's profession, was wrong, and she ran away.

Cassandra spent the next nine years homeless, guilt- and fear-ridden as she traveled the world. Entering Gotham City at 17, Cassandra came to be of Oracle's agents in the No Man's Land of Gotham City. After saving Commissioner Gordon's life from her assassin father, she was given the Batgirl costume with the approval of both Batman and Oracle. She became Barbara's ward and in a sense, the Batman's adoptive daughter. As the No Man's Land wore on, the new Batgirl was introduced to the rest of the Bat-Family with varying levels of acceptance. Usually acting as the Batman's watchful eye, she was finally allowed to go on a solo mission when a petrol station needed guarding against a local gang. Near the end of No Man's Land, Batman noticed her death wish and forced her to make a decision between suicidal actions and self preservation. She opted for self preservation.

Despite her notable handicap of being unable to talk, read, or write, Cassandra did remarkably well. Capable of understanding others' intentions due to her ability to read body language she was a more than capable listener, despite the fact she couldn't process their words or reply to them. It was this trait that made her one of the Batman's most loyal and trusted followers and helped her to survive when the Bat-clan became hunted by the Bloodhawks. Although the fact that she couldn't talk frustrated Barbara Gordon, she proved herself useful in other ways during a team with the spectral vigilante Ghost in tracking disappearing corpses. The running successes and final understanding of her mission as Batgirl allowed Batman to give her the privilege of running solo in Gotham City on the condition that she faced no 'costumed criminals' (Joker, Bane, Two-Face, Penguin, etc)

From going undercover in Madras with Batman to saving local heroes from the mob, Cassandra continued to impress as the new Batgirl. Especially when, despite Batman's warnings, she went face to face with a meta-human and won. She even managed to, despite her restriction to Gotham City, make it on the reserve member list of Young Justice.

But Cassandra's career was not the only thing that was growing. In the background a rift between Oracle and Batman was slowly emerging, as was the growing image of Batman as a father figure in Cassandra's eyes but the major development was David Cain's intentions to get his daughter back.

Cassandra began training immediately; going after every talented fighter she came across in order to gain more skills. After hearing how notorious the Joker was with the Bat-clan, she freed him in order to apprehend him again in order to gauge just how good he was. Batman and Oracle deduced that Cassandra had not given up her death wish and that it was due to guilt over her murdering Faizul. They began looking into what had brought the death wish back. Her reckless training was interrupted when an officer down was called over the frequencies. Batman's longtime ally and friend, Commissioner Gordon had been shot in cold blood.

It was during yet another training session in the Batcave that Cassandra first met her future friend Stephanie Brown (The Spoiler).

Unfortunately the victory would be short lived. Bruce Wayne was in jail on suspicion of murder. Cassandra arrived back at the cave in time to see Batman leave. Cassandra's resulting investigation revealed that Batman and Bruce Wayne were in fact the same person. Later she, along with Spoiler and Nightwing, discovered critical clues that pointed to Bruce Wayne's innocence and, eventually, incriminating evidence to the real culprit: David Cain. Her father safely behind bars and no battle-to-the-death with Shiva to train for, Cassandra focused on her crime fighting career.

Batgirl makes a mistake due to stress, and Oracle insists that they vacation on a cruise liner. Superboy happened to attend the same cruise, and together they stop a terrorist named Black Wind. Superboy gives Batgirl his number, and Batgirl kisses him. Batgirl goes on date with Superboy in Smallville, but they end up deciding to just be friends. Batgirl and Batman work together when Doctor Death tries to auction his chemical weapons in Gotham. They pursue him to Tarakstan, where they're forced to ally with Black Wind. Doctor Death is shot, and Black Wind sacrifices his life to contain the chemical weapons released. Before leaving the country, Cassandra, imitating a local custom, professes her feelings for him and vows to keep it a secret.

Barbara Gordon lends her old costume to Cassandra, who briefly uses it on patrol, but decides she prefers her own costume. Later, Batgirl investigates a new drug called Soul. This leads her to the Lost Girls street gang, whom Cassandra fights, unaware that the leaders are all metahumans. Midway through the fight, she accidentally swallows a Soul pill. Because Soul's effects are deterrmined by whether a person has a good or evil heart, she briefly hallucinates as her inner good and evil wrestle for control. When her evil side wins out, defeats the Girls under the Soul's influence. Later, Batgirl hunts and stops a serial killer named Doll Man. When she tries to stop a white slavery ring, but Batman shows up, angry because she ruined his sting operation. Batman tells Cassandra that she has been making too many mistakes recently, and forces her to suspend her activities as Batgirl. When Barbara tries to console her, Cassandra steals her Batgirl costume and takes to the streets. Investigating Soul again, she leads her to the scientist supplying the Lost Girls, who is revealed to be Doctor Death. Doctor Death doses Batgirl and Batman with concentrated Soul, and they fight to the death. When the effects wear off, Batgirl has a tender moment with Batman, and she explains that her father never let her display affection. Batman asks who she is loyal to, and Batgirl responds that she is loyal not to him but to their symbol. Robin takes Doctor Death into custody. Cassandra begins enjoying her new freedom, and Oracle takes her to a public garden. This garden is revealed to be a plot by Poison Ivy to recreate the Garden of Eden. Batgirl burns down Ivy's Tree of Knowledge, from which the entire garden grew from, stopping her.

Cassandra joined the Justice League Elite, masquerading as an assassin named Kasumi to monitor the team for Batman and participated in several missions with them. Ultimately she helped them save the world from the Worlogog and a psychic impression of Manchester Black that had taken over the team's leader, Vera Black. She revealed herself to her teammate Coldcast to tell him that he was not a bad guy before he was accused of murder. She personally stood by him in clearing his name.

Feeling partially responsible for what happened to her, Batman allowed her to return after a strict detoxification program and gave her a strict curfew. Nightwing however was not so accepting, regarding her with open hostility and suspicion. When Cassandra began seeking vengeance upon her father and Slade, she had to do it secretly due to their mistrust. Unfortunately her activities eventually were found out, resulting in her clashing with Nightwing and stealing a Batwing from the Batcave. However, the ordeal resulted in Cassandra officially adopted as Bruce Wayne's daughter.

With Batman's invitation Cassandra began working in the Outsiders team and, despite some mistrust from some members due to her recent activities, was accepted as part of the team. When Batman suddenly disappeared without word or warning, the Outsiders went looking for him all across Gotham. Cassandra went to the Iceberg Lounge to question Penguin about Batman's whereabouts, but learned nothing from him and instead she was forced to deal with Johnny Stitches. Back at their headquarters, the Outsiders received a message from Batman, but Batgirl noticed that he wasn't the real man. However, she decided to play along the impostor's plan, allowing REMAC to be injected wit a virus that caused him to die in a explosion that left Thunder in a coma. Batgirl was blamed for the disaster and the Outsiders disbanded. Afterwards, Batgirl went to the Batcave, where she learned that the attack was part of the Black Glove's plan and she decided to reform the Outsiders.

Batgirl began recruiting heroes across Gotham that matched Batman's unique abilities in order to create a team that could replace the missing Batman and the disbanded Outsiders at the same time, but Batgirl didn't expect that Nightwing would not agree with her plan. Nightwing was having trouble coming to grips with his adoptive father's possible death, but this would eventually sort out their conflict after Alfred intervened on a fight between the two. Cassandra handed over further creation of the Network to Nightwing.

Following the Battle for Batman's cowl, Cassandra began to feel emotional about her adoptive father's death, becoming disillusioned and passing her costume on to Stephanie Brown who becomes the new Batgirl. Cassandra leaves via the Gotham Airport, warning Stephanie not to follow her. After Batman's return, it was revealed that Cassandra had handed over her Batgirl mantle to Stephanie, acting in accords with her mentor's order in the event of his death or disappearance and because giving over the role would help Stephanie become a stronger hero. Drake remained in contact with her, implying that she's been working as an anonymous agent in Batman's plans.

Cassandra later becomes an operative of Batman Incorporated protecting Hong Kong, using the suit given to her by Tim and calling herself Blackbat. Bruce Wayne has her take a neo-heroin smuggling operation.

Black Bat traveled to Paris following a homing signal to Red Robin to the final site in a tournament of assassins, saving him from being raped by Daughter of Acheron, Ra's al Ghul's half sister, and defeated the vigilante Promise while freeing Drake. Cassandra then proceeded to take a sword and impale Tim in the chest, triggering confirmation that she had won the tournament, being one of the few in history to do so, and activating a system that would 'immortalize' her, by killing her with a laser. Red Robin saved her from the beam, and then revealed they had faked Red Robin's death using a trick sword, blood packets, and a stopped heart to fool the temple's automated systems. They attempted to examine the base, but although Tim conversed with the assassin tournament's creator, a previously unknown centuries old immortal, the base self destructed before they could learn any close as to his location.

Red Robin came to Hong Kong to assist Black Bat in Cassandra's hunt for Cricket, but they were defeated by the Cricket, badly injuring Tim and promising to fight Cassandra 'For real' next time.

Powers

Peak Human Condition: Through continuous intense training Cassandra represents the greatest fighting weapon ever conceived. She possesses peak level strength, stamina, speed and agility comparable to the finest human athlete.

Martial Arts: Due to her life long training Cassandra has a master level knowledge of all fighting arts known and unknown and continues to learn with every new opponent she faces. She was trained by her father (David Cain), along with several other members of the League of Assassins, including Bronze Tiger, Merlyn and Alpha. Upon taking the mantle of Batgirl, she was trained further by Batman, Oracle, Black Canary, and Lady Shiva. She received supplementary instruction from Onyx. She has also invented her own styles and techniques.[citation needed]

Dragon Style Kung Fu

The Falling Leaf Technique: A nerve pinch invented by Chinese monks in the 16th Century. Cassandra and her father are the only people who know how to use it.

Hand-to-Hand Combat (Advanced): Cassandra is schooled in all known and many unknown assassin techniques such as pressure points, killing techniques and stealth to name a few.

Body Reading Ability: Cassandra has the advanced ability to read body language enabling her to read what people are thinking and tell what they are going to do next before they do it. She has been shown able to read opponents far faster than herself, along with non humans and even alien lifeforms once she is given a chance to learn their body language. This enables her to identify disguised and transformed people as well.

Investigation: She was also very briefly trained in detective methods by Tim Drake during their time in Blüdhaven.

Stealth: Due to her excessive training she is also a master of stealth. This ability was furthered during her time as The Nothing and Kasumi.

Dyslexia: Due to her training using the language centers of her brain to read body language, Cassandra has extreme dyslexia, making it very difficult for her to read and write.

Over-Reliance on Body Reading Ability: While a definite strength in combat, Cassandra's ability to read body language can work against her when she can't properly discern an the intent of the opponents actions based on body language. Generally this can be happen when an opponent is very good ad disguising their intent like Slade, who can keep Cassandra distracted with subtle body language that could hint at many possible actions (Cassandra stated that when Slade moves, his body "sings like a chorus. Too fast with too many voices to pick up accurately".) In another instance it could be that an opponent isn't thinking or focusing on their movements as they make them like when Cassandra tried to stop a gunshot from a cybernetically enhanced assassin but couldn't because his cybernetics took over the aiming for him independently of his movements. The last way in which this weakness manifests is when Cassandra is facing an opponent who is mentally unstable or ill. Such an opponent is simply too unpredictable to anticipate. When Cassandra fought the Joker, the Joker had an edge in the beginning of the fight because she couldn't understand the Joker's body language or as Batman put it "she can read his body language too, but his body language just comes out as gibberish".

Cassandra has scars across her back from bullet wounds made by her father during her childhood training.

She tended to keep a rose around during her time as Batgirl.

She possess high levels of serotonin.

Due to her upbringing, Cassandra was unable to understand words being spoken and used body language to understand what people were saying. Eventually, she gains the ability to process and attach meaning to words.

She possessed a death wish due to guilt over killing that resulted in nightmares and self destructive behavior (seemingly solved after her second encounter with Lady Shiva).

Her favorite flavor of ice cream is chocolate.

Her favorite tea is Assam.

Cassandra's first kiss was Conner Kent.

Cassandra was formally adopted by Bruce Wayne, and now goes by Cassandra Cain-Wayne.

Verses

tba

#Batman #Batman [Cassandra Cain]#Female Character #non mutuals #face claim: Oh Yeon Seo

0 notes