#Use another gun on me karin
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Karin when she’s shooting down deformed orphans
this took the longest out of everything so far.
#funger#funger termina#fear and hunger fanart#fear and hunger termina#fear and hunger#fear and hunger 2#karin sauer#fear and hunger karin#art#digital art#ibispaintx#phone art#artists on tumblr#pewpew#She’s covered wars#I think#She actually intimidated me at first#I might be attracted to that#Use another gun on me karin
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Buddy Daddies Drama CD Vol 1 – When one door closes, another door opens
*Gun sounds*
*Large explosion*
Video Game: MISSION FAILED!
Rei: Gah...? I lost?
Rei: *Sighs* Right now I'm so... bored...
*Stomach rumbling*
*Presses button on phone*
Concierge: Good Morning, Suwa-sama!
Rei: I'm making an order. Mild beef curry, a steak, a cola...
Concierge: Thank you so much for doing business with our hotel. However we need to discuss your payment with you...
*********************
Rei: I can't use it?
Concierge: That's right. This card has been suspended. Do you have another form of payment
that you could use?
Rei: Ugh...
*********************
Concierge: Wait!
*Rei running*
*Car honks*
Driver: Hey you! Watch where you're going!!
Rei: This is bad... The family card has been cut off... so I don't have money!
*********************
Kazuki: I'm gonna score big! RED!
Crowd: Ohh!
Girl 1: Wow! You’re betting it all?
Girl 2: Kazu-kun, you're so brave!
*Chugs drink*
Kazuki: Ahhh! I’m on a roll today! I'm gonna win this one and be rich!
*Ball rolling to a stop*
Kazuki: AAAHHHHHHH!!!!
*********************
*Kazuki shivering*
Girl 1: Come again, okay?
*Kazuki sneezes and drinks more*
Kazuki: Ugh... Ah... My life is over...
Kyuutarou: Don't just decide that on your own.
Kazuki: Kyuu-chan!
Kyuutarou: Kazuki. Come to Yadorigi.
*********************
Kyuutarou: Can you even work a proper job after all this time? The only kind of work for you is dirty work. Isn't that right?
Kazuki: Yeah... that's right...
Kyuutarou: You keep failing your jobs and I haven't been able to contact you. Is this really the time to be drowning yourself in alcohol?
Kazuki: I'm sorry...
Kyuutarou: How many years do you think it's been since that accident? Can you face Karin-chan like this?
Kazuki: Ah...
Kyuutarou: This is your last chance.
Kazuki: Last?
Kyuutarou: If you mess up this job... I'll kill you.
Kazuki: Wait...! Anything but that!
Kyuutarou: Then make sure this job is a success.
*Paper crinkling*
Kazuki: Huh? Who's this...?
Kyuutarou: Suwa Rei. The son of our organization’s leader, also known as the "murder machine"
***************
*Convenience store bell ringing*
Cashier: Welco-...me...
Rei: *Grumbling*
Cashier: Eh? That guy's kinda creepy! His hair and beard are both unkempt and he’s stumbling around.... He seems like he'd be able to kill someone...
Rei: Umm...
Cashier: Y-yes? How can I help you?
Rei: How much is this?
Cashier: A teriyaki dog? It's 150 yen.
Rei. Mmm... *counts coins* 39 yen...
Cashier: Ah... Not enough, huh...?
Rei: *Sighs*
Cashier: Sir... Is something wrong?
Rei: Coat...
Cashier: Huh?!
Rei: Nevermind...
*Rei walks out while groaning*
Young Girl Cashier: Ah... Thank... you... What was with that guy?
***************
Rei: I’m an assassin. I can't bother civilians.
Thug: Aniki!
Aniki: Yeah? How'd it go?
Thug: I got the ransom! Here it is!
Aniki: Great job! Let's see it~
*Rei grabs bag*
Aniki: Huh?
Thug: Who are you!?
Rei: I'm borrowing this!
Thug: Huh!? Hey, give that back!
Aniki: Hey! Come on! Stop!
Thug: We’ve lost him!
Aniki: That thief! I'm gonna find him even if I have to turn this whole town upside down! Go find him!
Thug: Okay!
Rei: How annoying...
*Gun clicks*
Rei: Should I kill them...?
Kazuki: Hold on!
Rei: Who’re you?!
Kazuki: I found you, murder machine, Suwa Rei. My name is Kurusu Kazuk- Woah, woah, woah! Where are you going!?
*Running and panting*
Kazuki: Hey! Wait!
*More running and panting*
Kazuki: Fuck.
Kazuki: He’s so fast! I guess it's to be expected from an elite of the Suwa family? Fuck... I can't keep up...
Even though I'm confident in my running ability... all that drinking’s messed with me. Useless assassins will be gotten rid of... If he gets away now... then I'll...!
*Stops running and catches breath*
Kazuki: Maybe that's for the best. I’m a useless drunkard. There’s no one to mourn for me. That's just what I deserve. I'm finally... going to hell...
*can clinking*
Kazuki: Hm? Over there?
*Mechanical door opens*
Kazuki: Come out! Suwa Rei!
*Fist fight*
Kuzuki: Fuck.
*Gun clicks*
Rei: You know my name. You must be in the same line of work.
Kazuki: Wait! You don't understand!
Rei: You must protect yourself again-Hrk! (Idiom: 降り懸かる火の粉は払わねばならぬ Meaning: You must protect yourself against any possible dangers. Literally: you have to brush off any sparks that land on you)
Kazuki: Huh? What? He suddenly fainted?
*Stomach grumbling*
Rei: I’m... hungry...
Kazuki: Huh?!
*****************
*Rei groaning*
Kazuki: Oh! You’re up? Hold on, it's almost done.
Rei: Where...?
Kazuki: My place.
Rei: It’s dirty.
Kazuki: That's all you have to say to the guy who saved your life? I've had a lot going on so I haven't had time to clean.
Kazuki: Here~! Eat.
Rei: Food?
Kazuki: You're malnourished, aren't you?
Rei: Are you sure?
Kazuki: Don’t spill it.
*Slurping sounds*
Kazuki: How is it?
Rei: Udon.
Kazuki: You can tell just by looking at it! How does it taste?
Rei: Like soy sauce?
Kazuki: Because it’s udon! I'm asking if it tastes good?
Rei: It’s normal.
Kazuki: What the hell are you?! At times like this it's only polite to tell someone “It's so delicious!” as thanks even if it's just flattery!
Rei: Hmm!
Kazuki: Huh? Damn, man... Your file said you don't understand polite society and have zero life skills, but you're really like a robot! So... you ran away from home?
Rei: Yeah...
Kazuki: And you're already broke? The money in that bag... it's the ransom from the kidnapping case that’s all over the news, isn't it?
Rei: Probably.
Kazuki: Did you do a kidnapping?
Rei: I borrowed it.
Kazuki: Borrowed it?
Rei: From the kidnappers.
Kazuki: You liar! You stole it!
Rei: I didn’t have any money.
Kazuki: Ugh... Why in the world did you target such troublesome people?
Rei: I can't bother civilians.
Kazuki: You're strangely conscientious.
*Rei continues eating*
Rei: Done.
Kazuki: Osomatsusama (Set phrase to thank someone after they eat your cooking that means sorry for the crude food)
Rei: Kurusu... umm...?
Kazuki: It's Kazuki.
Rei: Kazuki.... Why didn’t you kill me?
Kazuki: Oh, don't get the wrong idea. My job was to protect you.
Rei: Protect?
Kazuki: There's a certain order to this town. Having a lone wolf like you running around wild is a problem. But you’re quite skilled, aren't you. There’s plenty of troubles you can deal with around here. If you work for Kyuu-chan, this town'’s boss, I'm sure you'll make good money.
Rei: Money...
Kazuki: Did you really think you could run away from home and become a normal person? The only kind of work for us is dirty work. Isn't that right? Do you want to slowly die from malnutrition or do you want to play with the cards you’ve been dealt?
Rei: Umm...
Kazuki: Hm? What is it?
Rei: Get me in contact with that boss.
Kazuki: Oh! Okay.
Rei: Thanks.
Kazuki: Huh? Nah I just did my job. You don't need to thank me for anything!
Rei: Mm.
Kazuki: Mmm... What?... It’s not like I’m happy that you thanked me or anythi-
Rei: Move!
*Rei shoves Kazuki to the ground*
Kazuki: Ah! Hey! What’re you do—?!
*Bullets and yelling from thugs*
Thug: We know you're in there!!
Kazuki: Gah! you idiot! Stop! Hey! My place will-!!
Rei: It’s fine. Leave it to me.
Kazuki: Rei?!
Rei: I’ll take responsibility for this.
*Thugs yelling and shooting*
Kazuki: Wah! Wah! Hey! Wah! Stop! Wah! Not- Not my place!!!!!!!!!
**********************
Kyuutarou: Welcome.
Kazuki: Ah... Hey, Kyuu-chan... I took care of those two jobs.
Kyuutarou: I’m relieved to hear you're actually able to do your job now. Now you just need to improve your skills.
Kazuki: I'm only second rate anyway. I'm nothing like the elite Rei. But he’s amazing, isn’t he? It hasn’t even been a month yet and how many jobs has he done?
Kyuutarou: 30 jobs.
Kazuki: Seriously? We're going to go out of business! He’s probably earned a lot already. Ah, but when I saw him here the other day, his beard and hair were still as much of a mess as ever. Is he even living decently?
Kyuutarou: I found a place for him to stay.
Kazuki: Huh? Kyuu-chan, do you also work in real estate?
Kyuutarou: Well, I have connections. Should I refer you too, Kazuki? You haven’t found a new place yet, have you?
Kazuki: Ahh... well I’ve been busy with work... Even though my last place ended up riddled with holes I really liked it.... *Sighs* Why did it end up like that? Ahhh... This sucks...
Kyuutarou: Oh, right. I have a request for you. Rei is perfect at his job but he never leaves his house so I never see him. So I'm sorry but could you take the information for his next job to him?
Kazuki: Yeah, sure... I was just wanting to complain to him about my wrecking house anyway.
*Kazuki walking away*
Kazuki: Bye! Tell me if you get another job for me!
Kyuutarou: Yeah!
*Door opens and closes*
Kyuutarou: Well... I hope it goes well...
*********************
*Elevator dings*
Kazuki: Wooooow... How good of an apartment does he live in? Is this normal for a son of the Suwa Family? He must be raking it in. Damn it!
*Doorbell rings*
Rei: Yes?
Kazuki: Umm... Kyuu-chan has a job for you so he asked me to bring you the information.
Rei: Ah...
*Kazuki opens the door*
Kazuki: Pardon me... Gwah! Hnk! It reeks! So bad! Hnrk! Eh? This place is so dirty! Eh!? Dirty! Dirty!It’s bad... It's so bad!
Rei: Huh?
Kazuki: Don't just say "Huh?" What is this on the floor?!
Rei: Pizza.
Kazuki: The leftovers of one, right?! And that green stuff isn't basil, is it?! There's something awful growing out of it, isn't there? Aghh! And this delivery sushi is all dried out! Wah! And there’s a cup noodle with the soup left in it! Throw it out! Throw it out! Now what about the kitchen...? AHHHHHHHH! THE SINK! THE SINK IS FULL OF A STRANGE COLORED LIQUID!!! HEY, REI!! DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS PLACE!!!
Rei: Maybe I'll hire a maid?
Kazuki: Wait, wait, wait, wait! Have you forgotten what you do for work? Your place is full stuff like sensitive
documents and weapons! It would be bad if you let a normal person in here!
*Rei’s starts playing video game*
Rei: Oh well then.
Kazuki: Huh? Stop escaping from reality! *Sighs exasperatedly* Fuck, okay then! I’ll help you clean this place up!!
Rei: Thanks.
Kazuki: You're helping too, you shut in! And I'm going to tame that wild hair of yours too so be prepared for that!
Rei: *sighs in frustration*
**************************
*Boiling*
Kazuki: Hm... *slurp* Mmm! Perfect! Okay!
*Turns off stove*
Kakuzi: Hey, Rei! Food's ready!
Rei: There’s so many plates.
Kazuki: Complaining about strange things as always but oh well. Here you go. Go ahead and eat your fill! Since the money for this came out of your wallet anyway.
*Rei starts eating*
Kazuki: He can't even say Itadakimasu, huh?
Kazuki: So? How does it taste?
Rei: The curry... is a little spicy.
Kazuki: I thought you'd say that! But whatever.
Kazuki: If you're eating it so fast, then I guess it was worth making it. It felt nice to cook in such a large kitchen again anyway. Ahh... I want a kitchen as big as this in my new place. It would be impossible with my pay though...
Rei: You don’t have a place to live?
Kazuki: Because someone completely destroyed it!
Rei: Mmm...
Kazuki: Huh? Ohh! Are you feeling guilty?
Rei: Want to stay here?
Kazuki: Huh?
Rei: I have extra room.
Kazuki: You... wow...! You just want to use me as your housekeeper, don't you?
Rei: Yeah.
Kazuki: HE JUST ADMITTED IT!!! JUST HOW SHAMELESS ARE YOU?! Ah, but... hmm I guess that might not be so bad actually?
Kazuki: I'm good at housework and Rei is amazing at his job.... so we can cover for each other's weaknesses...
Rei: We're playing with the cards we've been dealt.
Kazuki: That’s not what I mean!
Rei: Oh?
Kazuki: Fine! Then I guess I’ll be staying with you for a little while.
Rei: Mm.
Kazuki: Thanks, shut in.
Rei: Thanks, freeloader.
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Worthless - Part 20
Masterlist | Previous
Content: ATTEMPTED NONCON (not explicit), mention of past noncon, mention of past captivity, threat of gun violence, crude language, dehumanization, degradation, self-hatred, self-deprecation, former pet whumpee
-
"So how long are you planning to stay?" Lyra asked.
Colleen shrugged. "I have to be back home to pick up the kids and sign the divorce papers with Andrey on Monday, so I was hoping to stay for the whole weekend. Now that I've seen how things are going though, I understand if you want me to leave."
All eyes turned to Karine curiously, expecting her to deliver her final verdict, but the leader merely shrugged. "That's a discussion for all of us to have, and one of us isn't currently present. I don't want to make any decisions without Elliot's input."
Colleen nodded. "I suppose that's fair. Then, would you mind if I stayed for the day until all of you come to a decision?"
Karine shrugged again and folded her arms securely over her chest. "I don't see why not."
"Why don't we just make a decision now?" Yvonne wondered aloud. "Elliot's just in his room. What's the harm in having a group discussion now?"
"The harm is that Elliot's probably still a little sensitive and exhausted from his breakdown earlier," Karine stated.
"Exactly," Lyra added. "Think of it from his perspective. Imagine you just had a panic attack and then are suddenly pulled into a team meeting. It could really stress him out."
Yvonne nodded. "Fair, but I'm worried about leaving him alone in his room all day. Shouldn't someone go and check on him?"
Broderick rubbed a gentle hand over Yvonne's knee. "He's fine, Yve, don't worry. Why don't you and I check on him in a bit? Right now, he needs a bit of space."
Yvonne smiled at Broderick and rested her hand atop his. "Thanks, Rick. You're right. I just worry about him so much."
"We all do," Lyra said. "But Broderick is right. We can't suffocate him. We need to respect his boundaries."
Each present member of the team nodded their heads in agreement. Colleen smiled at the sight. "You know, it's refreshing to see how much you all care about one another."
Karine smiled back. "Of course we do. We're a family."
Colleen sighed, her smile wobbling. "It's good to know that Landon has found such a great family. Makes me a little jealous though, to be honest."
Landon scoffed and wrapped an arm around his little sister's shoulders. "You have nothing to be jealous of, Coll. I can't stand these people."
Landon laughed at his joke while Karine scoffed and kicked him in the shin. "Oh, is that right? Guess I'll be turning your room into my home gym, then."
"Why do you get dibs on Landon's room?" Broderick chimed in. "Wouldn't a medical center be a better use of the space?"
Yvonne giggled. "Personally, I've always wanted a home library."
"No one is doing anything to my room!" Landon yelled.
The room erupted into laughter, each present team member talking over one another; their voices grew louder with each word. Through the utter chaos, no one noticed the complete silence behind Elliot's door, nor the icy chill creeping in through his open window.
. . .
Elliot trudged down the quiet pavement, his once-fluffy socks completely soaked through from the snow. His t-shirt and sweatpants did little to shield him from the cold. His arms were wrapped tightly around his shivering body as tears froze on his rosy cheeks.
He had no idea where he was going, nor what had compelled him to leave the safehouse. He hadn't been outside since his rescue. Had it always been so bright?
Elliot wiped the tears and snot from his face and tried to quiet his unrelenting sobs.
Do you have any idea how pathetic you look right now? Imagine what people would think if they saw you like this. Maybe a new master will find you and take pity on you
Elliot clamped his eyes shut and furiously scrubbed at the tears on his face.
I bet your friends haven't even noticed you're gone. Even if they have, it's not like they'd come looking for you. Rescuing you is the biggest mistake they've ever made
A quiet whimper escaped Elliot's throat as a massive shiver scurried down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his exposed arms and the tear tracks on his face froze.
Elliot had been keeping his head low the whole time to avoid drying out his eyes in the icy wind. When he lifted his head to check where he was going, he raised his eyes just in time for a massive brick wall to appear in his path.
Elliot gasped as he collided with it, falling onto his backside in the snow. He held a hand to his aching forehead and burst into tears. What was he doing? Where did he think he was going? What was his plan?
Elliot curled up into a pathetic ball at the base of the brick wall and leaned back against it. He wrapped his quivering arms around himself and buried his face between his knees. "Wh-What am I d-doing?" He whispered to himself. Maybe the vicious voice in his head was right. Maybe a nice owner would stumble across him and take pity on a stupid, ugly mutt like him. Maybe he'd finally find a place where he could belong.
. . .
As the hours ticked by and there was still no sign of Elliot, Lyra began to grow worried. If he was sleeping, they didn't want to disturb him, but surely he must've been getting hungry. Yvonne was almost finished with supper and Elliot hadn't so much as shown his face once since they left him.
Lyra couldn't help but imagine the worst. What if Christian had come back for him and simply waited for him to be left alone? What if he was already gone and no one had any idea?
In that moment, Lyra had made up her mind. They needed to check on him. They needed to know that he was safe and healthy, just to give themself some peace of mind.
With the sounds of raucous laughter penetrating the walls from the next room over, Lyra stood before Elliot's door and gave it a gentle knock. "Sunshine? It's just me. Can I come in?" When nothing but silence answered, panic began to seep into Lyra's chest, little by little. Their first thought was that he was asleep, but they couldn't help but imagine the worst.
In order to ease their growing anxiety, Lyra gently pushed the door open and peered into the quiet stillness of Elliot's room. As their gaze fell upon his empty bed, their stomach dropped. "Elliot?" They called out as they stepped further into his room. Their panic gripped their stomach and squeezed.
Not again. Please, not again
"Elliot?" Their voice was shakier now. "Please, come out. It's just me; it's Lyra. I just wanted to check on you. I promise everything is okay. Please just come out."
Nothing.
The only sound in the room was that of the winter wind whistling as it crept into the room. It was only then that Lyra noticed the open window and the flurries of snow drifting onto the floor in front of it.
The blood drained from Lyra's face and her breathing ceased completely. "No," she whispered to herself. Her knees weakened and her mind went white.
No, no, no, no, no
"Lyra?" Yvonne's concerned voice said as she knelt beside her panicking friend. In their panicked state, Lyra hadn't even noticed that they'd fallen, nor had they noticed when Yvonne arrived. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Lyra's breathing was erratic and their heart was pounding so loud that they nearly missed what Yvonne had said.
"He's-He's gone. Elliot's gone. I-I can't find him. He's gone!" It was with those words that Lyra's resolve completely collapsed and they burst into tears. They wrapped their shaking arms around themself and released a guttural scream of frustration and grief.
. . .
Elliot didn't know how long he'd been gone. After a short rest beside that brick wall, he had since resumed his endless wandering. Cars rushed by him and people milled all around him, some sending judgemental glances his way. Time seemed to move in slow motion the longer Elliot walked.
His thoughts were muddled and his movements were sluggish. Nothing around him seemed real and he began to wonder if this was all just another nightmare.
With that thought bouncing around his otherwise silent mind, a tall man harshly brushed against his shoulder.
"Watch it, kid!" The man shouted.
Elliot had to regain his balance, the momentum nearly knocking him off his feet. He looked up at the man and cringed at the sound of his booming voice. "S-Sorry, Sir. I-I wasn't looking."
The man's face twisted and he studied Elliot with curious eyes. "Do I know you?"
Elliot's skin prickled under the man's gaze. "I-I don't th-think so, S-Sir."
The man stalked closer and Elliot nearly whimpered in fear, but he caught himself.
"You look really familiar. What's your name?"
"E-Elliot, S-Sir." The thought to lie hadn't even crossed his mind until after the words left his lips.
The man shook his head and pursed his lips. "I don't know any Elliots. You sure that's your name?"
Elliot nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. "I-I think so, S-Sir. It's what e-everyone c-calls me."
"Why do you keep calling me 'Sir'?" The moment the words left the man's lips, his eyes widened with recognition. "Oh shit. I know exactly who you are." Elliot shrunk beneath the man's scathing glare and devilish grin. "You're Christian's little whore, aren't you."
Elliot gasped and his eyes grew round as saucers. Tears flooded his eyes. He'd been so worried about running into Master all this time that he never even considered the possibility of running into one of Master's friends.
His voice was shaking uncontrollably as he said, "I-I don't know what you're t-talking about."
The man chuckled darkly and took another step toward Elliot. "I barely recognized you with all those clothes on, but it's definitely you. I've been wondering when Chris was gonna invite us over for another play session with you."
Hot tears trickled down Elliot's half-frozen cheeks.
"Where is your master, anyway? A pretty little thing like you shouldn't be wandering out here all alone. Maybe I should take you home to your master."
Elliot gasped. "N-No, p-please! I-I can't go back there! He was s-so c-cruel to me. P-Please, Sir. I'll do a-anything."
The man's devilish grin grew sadistic and Elliot's stomach dropped. "I really hope you mean that."
"I-I do, I s-swear. I'll do a-anything you want, just please don't t-take me b-back to him."
The man chuckled. "You know, I haven't been able to stop thinking about what your little mouth can do." Elliot's insides churned. "Maybe you should service me and I'll consider being generous if you do a good job."
Elliot instantly dropped to his knees. "I-I will! I'll be good, I promise!"
The man sharply grabbed Elliot by his bicep and hauled him to his feet. "Not here, you stupid slut!" He hissed through gritted teeth. Elliot squeaked as the man's fingernails dug into his soft skin. "There are too many people here. Follow me." The man yanked him down a narrow alleyway, where he sharply smacked Elliot's backside and shoved him back down to his knees. "There. Now, be a good boy and maybe I'll let you go free."
Elliot nodded frantically. "Y-Yes, Sir." Despite his best efforts, Elliot couldn't help the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach as the man began to unbuckle his belt.
It won't take long. Just have to let him do what he wants and he'll let me go. Then this will never have to happen again
Elliot's mind clouded over, his thoughts lost in the fog, and despite his best efforts, he started to cry.
As the man discarded his leather belt, Elliot flinched and whimpered, which alerted the man to his distress.
"Oh, you poor thing," the man said, his tone sounding genuine. His large hand gently grasped Elliot's chin and tilted his head up. Elliot looked into the man's hazel eyes, though his tears distorted the image. "Don't cry, pet." The man wiped away the younger man's fallen tears with his free hand. "I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I'll tell you what; if you do a good job, I might just consider taking you home with me."
Elliot sniffled. Those words did nothing to ease his distress. "R-Really, Sir?"
The man nodded and smiled. "Sure. I mean, how could I, in good conscience, leave such a pretty thing like you to become a stray?" He ran his fingers through Elliot's hair and gently caressed his cheek. "You'd be eaten alive out here. You'd be much safer, and more useful as my slave." The man's grip tightened on the back of Elliot's head, his fist knotting in Elliot's long hair. "Now, be a good toy and—"
"Elliot!"
Both Elliot and his assailant turned their heads in the direction of the voice, only to see several large individuals barreling down the alleyway.
Elliot gasped.
They noticed I was gone?
As they came into focus, Elliot recognized every one of his friends. Even Colleen was there, though she stayed near the back, wearing a worried expression and holding her hands over her mouth in shock.
Lyra was at the front of the group, a hand gun clasped between both of her hands. "Get away from him!" They shouted, aiming their gun at the man's forehead.
The man's grip tightened on Elliot's hair and he threw the boy against the back wall of the alley. Elliot yelped and crumpled to the ground in a pile of snow, hot tears thawing his half-frozen cheeks.
Lyra leveled their finger on the trigger, their hands as steady as stone. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but you're gonna step away from my brother before I paint these brick walls with your blood."
Elliot's eyes widened.
Brother?
The man scoffed. "No offense, lady, but you must be mistaken. If you're looking for your brother, he's not here." He gestured to Elliot. "This is just some common whore that belongs to a friend of mine."
Elliot's face turned bright red and a loud sob escaped his throat.
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Christian Whitlock?"
The man raised a brow. "You know him?"
Lyra's brows narrowed. "Yeah, I know him. He's the monster that kidnapped, tortured, and raped my little brother."
Elliot completely broke down at that. He'd never wanted Lyra to know. He'd never wanted anyone to know. Now, everything was out in the open. There were no more secrets. It was all over. He buried his face in his hands and wept.
The man looked genuinely perplexed at this revelation. "That's—That's not true. Chris said he bought it. He said it sold itself to him."
A fiery anger burned behind Lyra's eyes. "Let my brother go."
The man shook his head. "Wait, hold on. You're telling me that Chris—"
Lyra clicked the bullet into place. "Now!"
The man flinched and raised his hands above his head. "Okay, okay, fine. Just don't shoot." Keeping his eyes on Lyra, the man gently helped Elliot to his feet. Elliot was trembling and sobbing. He was soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably on top of his terrified shaking. The man nudged Elliot in Lyra's direction, but the moment he let go of him, Elliot fell to his knees, weeping and hugging himself as tight as physically possible.
Lyra lowered her gun and instantly dropped to their knees beside Elliot, wrapping him in a loving embrace. "Oh, sunshine, are you okay? Are you hurt? I was so worried."
Elliot could hardly speak through the heavy sobs that wracked his small, underfed body. He kept his eyes clamped tightly shut, too distraught to even look at Lyra.
Broderick kneeled beside them and set a soft hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Lye? Let's get him to the car. I can check him for injuries there."
Lyra nodded. "Elliot? I'm gonna pick you up, okay?" Elliot didn't respond, so Lyra went ahead and gently lifted him into their arms. Almost instantly, he clung to them like a child to their mother, sobbing into her shoulder. Lyra gently rubbed his back. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here. I've got you. We're going home now."
The man watched them, still aghast by the news he'd been given. As Lyra carried Elliot to the waiting vehicle, Karine approached the man at the back of the alley. "What's your name?"
The man shook the fog from his mind and said, "Uh...R-Ryan Cooper."
Karine quietly repeated the name back to herself once before she said, "Great, thanks. I'll be reporting you to the authorities for sexual assault and accessory to kidnapping." Karine turned to leave without another word.
Ryan's eyes widened. "Wait, I swear I didn't know." Karine glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Christian told me the kid was a sex worker. He told all of us that. We had no idea he'd been kidnapped."
Karine's expression didn't change. "Save your excuses for the jury." She turned to leave again, but Ryan grabbed her arm to hold her back.
"Wait! Please!" Karine glowered at him and he instantly released his grip on her. He held his hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry, but I can help. As long as you don't report me, please."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."
Ryan didn't even have to think about it before he blurted, "I can tell you where Christian is."
Karine's hard expression softened ever-so-slightly. "I'm listening."
-
Chapter 20 is finally here!! Sorry for the long wait, but seeing as this is my 20th chapter, I wanted it to be a little more whumpy than my normal chapters. I was really unhappy with how it was coming along, so that's part of the reason why it's been so long. The other main reason is holidays and traveling put writing on the backburner a bit.
Next up is a drabble request that's been sitting in my inbox for months, and I'm so excited to finally get to it! So stay tuned for that!
Taglist:
@l-antre-des-merveilles @pigeonwhumps @nicolepascaline @burningkittypoet @whumpinggrounds @suffering-and-misery @make-them-scream @honeycollectswhump @rabass @whumpdreamz @clairelsonao3 @ofclrosewriteswhump @cepheusgalaxy @pinkraindropsfell @mj-or-say10 @considerablecolors @whatamidoingherehelpme @whumped4whumplover @ladybizarre96 @theaustralianfrog
If anyone wants to be added to or removed from the taglist, please let me know!😊
#whump#whump blog#whumpee#whump writing#writing#whump community#whumpblr#whump fic#pet whump#pet whumpee#former pet whumpee#tw attempted noncon#my writing#original story#original writing#original characters#Elliot Córdova#Lyra Beckett#Worthless#livelaughwhump
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Alpha In-Depth (Part II): An Inversion of Roles
Tumblr has finally allowed me to finish up Part II (you can find Part I here)-- but let's not fiddle-faddle so we can get straight into this!
Picking up where Part I left off, Scully arrives on the next crime scene just before an attack happens. While investigating the property, she finds a photo from Karin, once again placing her within Scully's scope for the crime. She's diverted from further analysis by a scream; but she is too late to save the next victim. Alerting Mulder, she takes the initiative to call paramedics (while also wielding her gun.)
They both miss the shapeshifting canid right next to them.
Scully decides her next course of action is to confront Karin Berquist; who is, she's convinced, behind the crimes in an attempt to gain attention and love from Mulder, exploiting his friendship for her own schemes. This go-for-the-throat protectiveness (the dog puns continue) that Scully shields her partner with is not new; but it has hardened, become more blunt in the aftermath of Diana Fowley. While the emotions of that situation have been worked through and processed, Scully is not convinced of Mulder's ability to judge people's character rightly-- not like she used to be. This case restores a good chunk of that faith, but only after Mulder has been proven half-right and manipulated yet again.
"Where's Fox?" asks Karin.
"Continuing his investigation," Scully cryptically answers.
"You're not working together?"
"No," she responds decidedly, "this is my investigation."
"Of?"
"You."
Something I found unintentionally funny is that Scully starts out the conversation as the dominant aggressor (the alpha, heheh dog puns), cornering Karin and nicely scooting a dog out of her designated interrogator's chair.
Scully puts all her cards on the table: she has figured out that Berquist is dying, and that her eccentric habits are effects of her intensifying illness. And while she sympathizes with Karin's situation, she refuses to let a dying woman use her partner as a last-minute consolation prize-- something Scully protected him against even when she herself was dying from an incurable disease.
What is fascinating is that Scully has taken upon herself Mulder's role: confronting and understanding a potential witness with her expertise and sympathizing with said victim-- even if they are in the wrong for their human actions-- but forcing them to face the uncomfortable truth about their actions and consequences.
A refrain from Rain King pops back up again as she continues:
"With Mulder you found somebody you could communicate with. Someone who challenged you."
However, this moment is swallowed up by her following accusations:
"But that wasn't enough, you needed to lure him out here."
Karin doesn't deny it, and places all her cards on the table, having made as close a study of Scully as Scully has made of her: "I lack your feminine wiles."
Scully, caught and embarrassed, licks her lips and looks away.
Rallying, she asks, "You don't believe it, do you?"
Karin is vague, implying that the creature would have to be "more cunning than man" to survive for over a century.
"More cunning than you?" Scully pointedly asks. She furthers her statement by a warning: "I'm watching you." Her threat, though, lacks any bite (dog puns), mildly stated in compassionate warning. To Karin's "You watch but you don't see," she has nothing further to add.
After another another crime has been committed, Mulder begins to question his loyalty to Karin Berquist. He drops in, petting her dogs and delightedly chuckling when they obey his tongue-click to vacate a seat for him. Settling in, he begins to interrogate Karin on her tactics, hinting that he's been misled.
Mulder dodges her honest admission of her feelings ("I've been honest with you, though perhaps not myself. I was looking forward to meeting you-- I wouldn't admit how much") with a head duck, redirecting the conversation back to the case at hand;
and reads between the lines, realizing that Karin knows the murderer is Detweiler (the man who "transported" the mythical beast across seas.)
"So you knew that and didn't say?" he questions, his tone harsher and less forgiving in the face of all those senseless deaths.
Berquist carefully disguises her plan with false transparency, redirecting Mulder to track down and kill the animal by playing into his heroism (stating Scully's tail on Detweiler will be lost before she realizes it.)
He leaps up awkwardly, reaching for the phone to make a call, unsure how to address the more personal issues between them (and still annoyed and a little hurt that he'd been left in the dark-- not realizing how deftly he is being handled now.) Karin still hopes; but it dies again when she realizes he's called Scully, talking to her in low tones as if they're in a private conversation. Berquist at her 'I Want To Believe' poster with grim intention, affirming her decision.
When Mulder stalks into the hospital (nodding his head sideways at his partner), he is met with a bored, slumped over Scully straight out of Bad Blood (or Chimera), petulance and charm all rolled into one: "Tell me why you pulled me away from the suspect and chained me to this chair?"
Scully is actually, literally pouting that she couldn't be on active surveillance and had to sit idly by with no real reason other than Mulder said to.
Mulder is amused but wisely keeps it under wraps, motioning at the chair in invitation ("It's not yet dark-- you should take a load off. We might be here all night.") and incidentally waving her magazine pages around with wind current from his fingers. He rambles about staying longer, "it" being Detweiler, and his other string of reasons while Scully stands aghast that they're staying... until her partner whips out the monster theory ("Mulder.")
Scully is not one for blood curses: "So, what is he gonna do-- walk in here, skitter across the linoleum, and pee in the corners?"
Mulder can't hold back a big smile at that, looking away briefly to smile more fondly before it's back full-force and staying... though that doesn't stop him from taking the time correct her mistaken assumption ("It's about territoriality.")
Then, after properly informing her about alpha behavior, Mulder scoots back in his chair and lounges enticingly.
Scully cuts through this comfy zone by insisting he not listen to his new friend-- "The only person Karin is interested is in you." And, while briefly flattered by the truth in that statement, Mulder sinks into discomfort, never one to enjoy personal problems or unhappy endings.
"You're kidding yourself if you think she hasn't manipulated this entire situation for her own purposes."
He is unconvinced, silently crowing over being right by picking at his tie-- "He'll come here tonight, Scully, you'll see."
Then he motions to the chair again, the picture of ennui, reaching for her magazine when she doesn't comply at first (those Arcadia lack of boundaries coming into play.) Territorial to the last of her things (dog puns, gotta love 'em), Scully swoops in to snatch up her only source of entertainment. Mulder is miffed by her cancellation of his dibs, enviously watching its journey all the way back down to the chair as his partner plops, resigned, next to him.
Mulder is so smug because he is "proving" that he's right about his judgment concerning personal relationships. He knows Diana Fowley is a stain on his record (and Pheobe and Deep Throat, a bit, and informants, and various people on sundry cases); but wants to prove he is 'wiser' than a short time ago and can safely discern his allies from his foes. Moreover, he is proving to Scully that her enhanced concern and distrust of his friend-picking abilities is no longer needed because he's good to go.
As the night crawls on, Mulder finally gets two things: Scully's magazine and a clue. Realizing he'd been duped yet again, he looks at his watch, crestfallen; then stands to softly bop Scully-- who is snoring softly beside him-- to wakefulness with this episode's equivalent of a rolled-up newspaper. (Because this episode is relentless with dog puns and references.)
Mulder grimly confirms, "He's not coming."
Scully takes a second to wake fully, agreeing, "Well, you've got no argument from me"-- an attempt at some levity for his sake.
Mulder passes it over. "He's not coming here tonight. Karin knew that. She lied to me."
Scully wisely lets that one pass without comment, even if Mulder had already power-walked away in his disappointment.
Mulder and Scully arrive too late, appalled at finding the impaled bodies of the mythic monster (Detweiler) in Karin's front lawn.
Mulder looks at Karin's window, afraid she might be injured inside; but Scully's low "Mulder..." turns his focus back. The two of them identify the body, then see Karin's at the same time.
Mulder looks to Scully for confirmation, or any hope; but when Scully cannot do anything for Berquist, he remains impassive, only slightly shaking his head.
An odd ending for an odd woman.
The last scene is back in the basement, Mulder stressfully supporting his head in his hands (with his pencils untouched, a sign of true distress.)
Scully doubles back like their first scene together, asking, with an encouraging smile-- "You going home?"
Mulder inhales sharply, having been caught in the midst of silent mourning. "Ah... pretty soon," he says, self-consciously rubbing his eyes with the backs of his knuckles before almost crumpling again.
Scully isn't fooled, calmly walking in and asking, "You think this is your fault."
Mulder stumbles over his response at first, quiet in his self-abasement: "I think that I... believed her very quickly. I think that was my fault, yeah." His shame over failing, again, at picking friends and trusting people is overwhelming.
Seeing that this will not be an easy fix, Scully prepares herself for an emotional confession, rounding the desk to penetrate his sorrow and bring healing. Mulder knows this, too, and sits back, settling in for a Scully tete-a-tete: using logic to unwind his keyed up and self-punishment.
"Why wouldn't you believe her?"
Mulder uses her logic from earlier: "I barely knew her."
Scully doesn't deny that, but gives flavors it with nuance: "Well, she had a lot of secrets, that's for sure." She pauses to steel herself, looking up and away before recentering on her partner-- "I think Karin Berquist lived by her instincts. She seized people up pretty quickly and I think she figured you out to a T."
He is not flattered by that assessment, only more hideously chastising himself on the inside.
Scully slowly reveals her true meaning: "I think she saw in you a kindred spirit, Mulder." When he turns to her, eyes tearily glazed at her tenderness and understanding of his complicated feelings over this complicated situation, she continues, "She may not have been able to express that to you... maybe what she did was the highest form of compliment."
Mulder dips again, expelling a breath and playing with his nails again. There are too many painful paths to consider there, and all of them lead to Karin's loneliness at the end of her life and how Mulder couldn't-- can't-- fit into "it", yet.
Scully understands all this, of course (she always has); and after a comedic non-answer is given to her chummy "You gonna be okay?", she gives him a Paper Hearts smirk of acknowledgement.
Before she leaves, Scully gives Mulder a piece of Karin-- and herself-- that he can accept and cherish: "Oh-- this came for you."
Mulder's curiosity is ignited as Scully hands over a rolled up paper, briefly pulling him out of the slums of grief. When he sees it's from Berquist Kennels, Mulder steals a glance at his partner; but she's already fled halfway out of the door, jamming her coat on in her haste and not looking back. He knows she knows and is giving him space; but he doesn't know she knows what it is.
As Mulder unfurls his gift, he realizes it's a copy (or rendition) or his destroyed 'I Want To Believe' poster; and quickly-- but carefully-- tacks it up in his cozy underground not-unlike-a-Tooms nest.
As he sits back contemplating his motto, the events that led up to today, and all of the factors in between, Mulder-- though still not quite himself-- is resettled, at home. (It takes him a bit to realize home isn't in the basement anymore; but he'll figure it out.)
Thank you for reading~
Enjoy!
#txf#x-files#xf meta#meta#xfiles#analysis#the x files#Alpha In-Depth#Part II#Alpha#S6#Mulder#Scully#Karin Berquist#mine
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Caught in the Lights (Ichigo Kurosaki x Fem!Reader)
Part of the 12 days of Christmas Event!
Summary: Ichigo is resistant when it comes to putting up the Christmas tree. His father brings in reinforcements - that is, he brings you. But no one said you were gonna make the process easier...
If you want to get a better idea of the dynamic btwn Ichigo and this Y/N, feel free to read this as well.
WC: 2.2k of pure FLUFF (it's only this long because I'm obsessed with Ichigo)
Warnings: okay there are also innuendos in the fluff but fluff mostly. language.
With the temperature dropping, the levels of snow rising, and Christmas getting closer, the bickering in the Kurosaki household is getting louder.
“Ichigo, I thought I told you to put up the tree three days ago!” Ichigo’s father yells.
“I haven’t had time! And put it up yourself!” He screams as he climbs up the stairs, gunning for his room. He’d just gotten back from Urahara’s shop and he’s exhausted.
“How dare you suggest such a thing! It’s about the holiday spirit, Ichigo! It’s about doing it with others!”
It wasn’t like he disagreed. Ichigo actually agreed completely. But he’d never been one to lean into the Christmas spirit since after his mom passed. He doesn’t even understand why his dad has been trying so hard these last few years to make it a thing.
“That tree is going up one way or another, Ichigo!” And then the doorbell rings.
“Hello, Dr. Kurosaki. Thank you for inviting me over.” Ichigo freezes on the steps at the sound of your voice.
“No, Y/N, thank you soo much for coming to help us out!” His father gushes, and Ichigo hears you yelp and his father pulls you into a tight hug (this was a standard greeting, given that Ichigo’s father basically considered you family). Ichigo hears a thud, presumably something being thrown at his father’s head. “Ouch! Karin, why are you so mean to me!”
“Put Y/N down, dad, and stop being a weirdo!”
Ichigo feels the irritation pulse in his forehead. The old man is really forcing my hand, huh. Running up and tossing his backpack into his room, he comes back down to see you with Karin and Yuzu in the clinic, setting up the artificial tree. You’re wearing a deep green sweater so large that it eclipses your hands. The way you’re smiling at his sisters is a sight to behold.
“Hey,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets while approaching you three.
You smile back at him. “Hey.”
“Great, now that Ichigo is here, you two can take care of this,” Karin chirps, and Yuzu stands at her cue.
“Hey, where are you two going?” Ichigo asks.
“We have to clean up and make dinner,” Karin responds.
“Y/N, you’ll eat with us, right?” Yuzu asks, eyes wide.
“Of course the lovely Y/N is going to stay for dinner! It’s the least we can do for you helping us out,” Ichigo’s dad pops into the doorway to add.
“I’d love to stay for dinner, thank you,” you politely reply.
“I’m excited to see how the tree turns out,” Yuzu says as they both walk to the kitchen, Karin grabbing their dad’s jacket and dragging him along with them.
Now that you two are alone, Ichigo turns to you, watching as you unpack the boxes of Christmas decorations that haven’t been touched in like, 10 years.
“I heard you were at Urahara’s earlier,” you say to him, examining an ornament.
He crouches down next to you, tugging the other ornaments out, dusting them off. “Yeah, the Hollow frequency has been low recently., so I figured it’d be a good training time.”
You’d learned about Ichigo’s little secret early on. As a secondary aid to the Kurosaki family clinic and his best friend, you were the first to find Ichigo’s unconscious body one day, and the first to ask any questions he ultimately had no way of dodging. It was an added benefit that you, too, could see spirits and eventually encountered Hallows, and the notion of Soul Reapers didn’t faze you nearly as much as he worried they would.
“Just training? What about a break?” you ask him, handing him a long chain of tinsel to wrap around the tree. “Aren’t you technically a substitute?”
He eyes the tinsel with disgust. Ugh, how flashy. “Someone has to be doing it, Y/N. So substitute or not, it doesn’t really matter to me.” He places the tinsel on the wood floor. “But, Hat and Clogs basically forbid me from doing any soul reaping stuff for the next 10 days, so, today was my last day. I’m on a break, I guess.”
He doesn’t miss the way your eyes eagerly turn to him, a small smile crawling onto your face. “Breaks are healthy for you. I’m sure there’s stuff you’ve been meaning to do that you haven’t had time for.”
Like spending time with you. You were right. He had been pushing a lot of stuff off. And with his new lifestyle as a Soul Reaper, where he’s constantly reminded of his mortality, he’s been contemplating you a lot more. He couldn’t really tell why, but all he knew is that when he worried about dying in the period right after life-threatening battles, he thought of all his family and friends. You were a part of that, but something was different. The way his heart twinged and ached for you in those moments was different, but he really couldn’t put it to words. He figured that maybe spending some time with you would inspire an answer, but for now, it was lost on him.
“Ichigo? You okay?” You ask.
“Ahh, yeah, sorry- I just…spaced out for a second.” He distractedly tugs the string of lights that you’ve pulled out from the box out of your hands. Your eyes are only on him, barely even noticing the absence of the lights from your own hold.
“Okay,” you respond after a moment, now relaxed. “If you’re done spacing out~” you tease, “could you go get some scissors from the kitchen?”
“Yeah, yeah, if you lose the attitude then I can definitely do that for you,” he teases back.
You smirk deviously, well aware of how to get under his skin. “Oh, please~ Ichigo-kun, get the scissors for me. I’ll do anything-” he cuts you off as his face blasts red.
“You’re the worst. I'm getting the damn scissors right now.”
As he grabs the scissors, he ignores his sisters’ questioning glances and goes back into the clinic. But he’s not expecting the scene he returns to.
You are standing, all wrapped up in lights, looking like you’re about to fall over.
“What the hell,” he runs over to you.
“HEY no running with scissors,” you call out, trying to plant your socked feet onto the slippery wood floor.
“I run around with a sword that's almost as big as me on the daily, I’m not gonna die with scissors,” he says. He puts the scissors down on a table anyways, and grabs your arms momentarily to keep you upright. “What the hell did you do? I was gone for less than a minute.”
“That’s what I wanna know, too. I didn’t realize a second string of lights was plugged into the first one, and it was super knotted, so I tried to unknot it, yanno? Then I like, stood up- next thing I know the knotted lights are caught around my arms and in my sweater and the first set of lights were tangled around my foot.”
“How the hell did your other foot get caught?”
“I tried to kick off the lights with my free foot, and I kinda…”
“You got it stuck too, didn’t you.”
“Yeah.”
“Dumbass.” He shakes his head, looking down at you with exasperation and amusement. It’s funny if nothing else. And he didn’t mind the comedic relief.
“You can insult me all you want, but are you gonna help me get out of this or what?” you ask while almost tipping over, losing the little bit of balance you managed to gain.
Ichigo gently steps on both your feet with one of his own, stopping your feet from sliding around. He holds your waist to keep you upright before huffing out and dropping down on a knee to undo the lights that were caught on your legs. You reach out your bound arms and manage to grip onto his shoulder as he separates the lights that have wrapped around both your ankles. With your left foot free, you let go of his shoulder as you’re finally able to plant your feet on the ground properly.
“Lift your leg a bit,” he mindlessly taps your right thigh with the back of his hand. Following instructions, he un-does the winding of the lights around your leg. “That’s half of it.” He says, standing upright in front of you.
“What the, Ichigo! What are you doing to poor Y/N?” Karin comes into the room, shocked at the sight of her brother towering over you with your arms bound.
“Wha, wait.... wait it’s not like that I swear-” he immediately defends himself, suddenly aware of how the situation appears.
“Ichigo is helping me with a mess I created for myself, don’t worry,” you cut in decisively, and Karin’s expression relaxes. “Which, speaking of, if you could help me unbind my arms, I would really appreciate it.”
“I gotchu,” he says, slowly trying to pull the lights off of you. Karin approaches to watch closer. “Dammit, did you really have to wear a green sweater today of all days?” It’s no use. The wires on the lights were all the same deep shade of green, and the clear light bulb heads were of little aid at guiding Ichigo at wear to pull.
“I have an idea,” Karin chimes, grabbing the end of the lights that’re laying on the floor and approaching the outlet. “Plug it in,” she says, plugging in the Christmas lights and running to the end of the clinic, turning off the ceiling lights.
Her idea definitely helped. With all the bulbs on, he could see the reflection of the green rubber on the wire as opposed to your reflection-less sweater.
“You’re a genius, Karin.” As you speak, Ichigo lifts his gaze to your face.
“No problem, good luck,” she says before leaving to the kitchen once again.
Ichigo’s been looking at the lights on you that he forgot to look at you. But, wow.
With the lights all wrapped around your arms and your hands held up, the Christmas lights illuminate you. The soft, warm off-white light bounces off your skin at different angles, highlighting the contours and angles of your face. Your smile and eyes are bright, and everything about you looks so magical, so angelic in that moment, it takes Ichigo’s breath away.
“You good, Ichigo?” You look up at him with a questioning look, and somehow it makes the situation worse. The way your eyes widen, eyebrows lift, and head tilts, though it’d usually look like teasing judgement, it makes you look ...so fucking pretty.
“I’m just great,” he shakes his head and drops his gaze, hoping that the low lights around your arms don’t show off the pink glow on his face.
“If you’re great then…help?” You ask, once again.
He wordlessly unwraps your arms, tugging the lights that stuck into your sweater out, stepping closer to you so he can get the lights on your upper arms off. As he goes, he winds the lights around his thumb and elbow neatly. Picking off the last length of lights, he sighs. “All don-ne,” he looks up at you only to have the words ripped from his mouth. You’re staring up at him with a gentle smile on your lips and the fondest look in your eyes, the light still reflecting off of your face.
“Sorry for staring,” you say unabashedly, not removing your gaze. “You just look so pretty with the lights on you like that, Ichigo.”
It was when he heard someone call Captain Kuchiki ‘pretty’ that Ichigo decided he’d hate if anyone ever used the word to describe him, and would probably punch someone for saying it. But this was the first time you had ever commented on his appearance, and to hear the way you called him pretty just made him absolutely melt.
But what the hell is he even supposed to say?! Does he act normal, pretend like he hates it? Does he shrug it off, ignore it, what? What should he do?
All the while he’s not broken eye contact. He can’t, he’s absolutely entranced by you at this moment. Just say something. Try and be normal.
“You look prettier than usual, too, but you didn’t see me staring at you with a dopey grin on my face.”
Ok so nothing about that was normal. Shit, wait a minute-
You just smile wide, “then what was all that blushing about earlier~”
Dammit! You did see that, huh.
“Whatever,” his face burns. “I should’ve left you tangled.”
“Hey hey hey, you helping me has nothing to do with the way you were looking at me, now does it?” He pulls away from you, placing the lights on the table (and off the floor). You grab his arm as he tries to walk into the kitchen. Tugging him into turning around, you rest your hands on his arms and come close to his body, looking up at him. “Fine, I’ll stop teasing you about it, for now, in exchange for your help. But at least help me finish the tree, okay?”
He could never refuse you. He knows that much for sure.
“Fine. But I'm putting the lights on this time. You're not touching it.”
You grin back. "Just know if you get tangled, I have no intensions of setting you free."
A/N: The new trailer almost made me cry and reminded me just how much I adore this man. I really should put up my Christmas lights.
If you have questions about the logistics of how Y/N got caught in the lights, congrats, because I do too lmao (ignore the inconsistency/lack of in depth explanation there).
Bleach fandom if you're out there I hope this finds you, and lemme know if you want more. If you want something spicier as well (with in mind that I only write SFW) lemme know.
#bleach#bleach anime#ichigo kurosaki#kurosaki ichigo#bleach x reader#bleach imagines#bleach oneshot#bleach fluff#ichigo fluff#ichigo oneshot#ichigo x reader#ichigo kurosaki x reader#ichigo imagines#bleach ichigo#bleach headcanons#csc.urahara.shop#colorseeingchick writes#Colorseeingchicks Christmas Market
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Highlights and insights from the MELE launch cast & crew reunion panel
[rewatch link] [highlights & insights from the N7 Day 2020 reunion]
In case a text format is better for anyone (in terms of accessibility for example). Cut for length.
Some paraphrasing.
If anyone’s interested in just the line-reading session, it starts at timestamp ~1:04:45.
In addition to the cast and crew from the N7 Day reunion, at this reunion also in attendance were:
Mac Walters (Project Director for MELE, Lead Writer of the og MET)
Melanie Faulknor (Lead Producer for MELE)
Crystal McCord (Producer for MELE)
Fred Tatasciore (Saren)
Seth Green (Joker)
Kimberly Brooks (Ash)
Ash Sroka (Tali)
This was the biggest reunion / meetup of the cast so far, and some of the cast and crew were meeting for the first time here.
It’s been so long since the og MET that PW & KW are getting to watch their kids experience playing it for the first time
JHale doesn’t play but since MELE she’s been sneaking around Twitch jumping into peoples’ MELE livestreams to lurk, watch and comment a bit
What drew Seth to the character of Joker? The whole concept of the game. He likes games and MET’s mechanics (different trees of adventure, stacking reputation, choices carrying between games) at the time were the most sophisticated that he’d ever heard pitched. He thought this was new and exciting and wanted to be a part of it. For the character they cast him based on his personality traits (i.e. he sounds quite similar to Joker personality-wise)
Would Seth ever want to play Joker again if the opportunity presented itself? Sure, he loves the character, and if the writers ever had more things to explore/expand with Joker he’d be down for it.
Seth said that it’s a different kind of fan that approach him about this project. The fans have spent many many hours in an intimate exchange with “him” that he hasn’t been a part of, but they experienced it nonetheless. “I’ve hugged a lot of strangers, you know what I’m saying? It’s great, you get an interaction with fans that you never get as a performer in any other experience”
Seth has been a space guy since he was little, it inspires him
With the state of the world the way it is now [covid, masks etc], does Ash think Tali’s story will be more impactful now than it was before? Ash hopes so, and that anything they do here will have a positive impact on a bigger level. Ultimately that’s why most of them do what they do, they want to reach people in deep ways. She hopes Tali is an inspiration in courage, bravery, standing up for what’s right and thinking about the greater good
The [MELE I think] dev team had a last team meeting with Greg Zeschuk, one of the founders of BioWare, who they had invited to it. He was regaling them with stories of the inception of Mass Effect. “You would imagine this sort of well-laid out, drawing boards everywhere... [but] it was basically just a napkin sketch in a Greek taverna with him and Casey going ‘We wanna do a space opera’, and then it took off”
The process of creating lore through development is very organic. A lot of it comes from character and story development. It builds up over the course of the game’s development. They did the codex entries at the end, the idea being that if they saved them for as late as they could, then they could pull from the story, characters and meaningful moments, and build them from there
PW wrote a bunch of the codex entries, elevator banter & lots of little bits of lore. They describe their time on the og MET as being a “baby writer”. They originally came in after Mac had back surgery and a junior writer was needed to fill in. “It was really fun, it was us sitting in a room together going ‘What do you think a hanar or a krogan thinks about this or that’?” For a first project for them this was an amazing experience - the world building itself creatively with all these awesome people
They tried to add multiplayer in every game but only got it to work in ME3
They had a lot of plots laid out in ME1 that they called “global plots”. These were outside the core critical path and would take players from planet to planet, and were sprawling stories. They pulled out a lot of really interesting concepts and ideas from these that did make it into the game, but all of the global plots ended up getting cut due to time. Mac still has old diagrams and spreadsheets which detailed how all of these would have come together
Q. If you all had to take a long-distance road-trip with two squadmates, who would you take and why? PW: “Jack and Mordin. Mordin because the drive would never lack for things to talk about at length quickly, Jack because you know you wouldn’t pay for the room. You wouldn’t know how you’d get the room, but you wouldn’t be paying for it.” Courtenay: “I’d take Mordin because there’d be singing, and FemShep just to have this thing - happen. In the room that I get for free.” JHale at this point fistpumped while saying “Yeess” [then I think what she said was “steaming hot”]
Seeing as asari are long-lived, how open is Ali to one day reprising her role as Liara? “She’s a character very close to my heart, it was such a great opportunity. In some games that we work on the character has already been created or voiced by someone else, but this was really a group effort. When I first went into the booth, the only thing I’d seen of her was a sort of like, rendering, and we slowly kind of came to her voice and presence. I would love to bring Liara back any time... hey, she can live a really long time guys. :D”
Caroline and people who do what she does (Creative Performance Director) are so critical to the quality of games. Caroline: “This group of people are extraordinary. We were lucky to have such an extraordinary cast. Every [recording] session was new and challenging. It was a labor of love. I’m tearing up right now thinking about it. I’m remembering my last session with Jen, she was the last session, just sobbing and sobbing”. When JHale was trying to say the lines of Shepard’s goodbye with Garrus, a line hit her like a tonne of bricks and she was in tears and was like “Shepard does not cry”. “It took me a second, I got it out and took another run at it, it was in there but stuffed down as it should have been, and I finished the line [and there was silence in the booth when usually Caroline would have been talking to give direction or instruction] Did we lose her? Did Skype crash?” and it transpired that what had happened was that Caroline was in floods of tears
ME was the first time Keythe had ever come across branching dialogue. “Normally when we work on a script and it’s from page 1 to 100. In this it was get to page 5, then go back to page 2 and play it a little differently. The skill and the fun and joy of it was to be able to go back and play a scene in a different way, with different writing, with different outcomes. This was not only a challenge but a real treat. So to all the writers who dreamed up how this build-your-own-adventure plays out, you have my undying respect. It was a real pleasure”
VEDA is a proprietary system that BW use to record the dialogue, which is the closest way of having it feel like having people in the booth together (it’s all digital and VAs get to hear the line someone else has done in that scene). Caroline really pushed for this because of the amount of time etc that was wasted due to lack of this sort of thing on ME1. William: “It was a god send for me, thank you, getting to hear a cue from Jen or Mark.” Ali: “Us being able to bounce off each other helps make it more real. This for me was the most real acting experience on a game I had ever had - the writing being so good, Caroline helping us through, being able to hear each other.” JHale was always early coming in to record relative to the others so only got to use VEDA a few times - a bit of Liara content and the scene with Anderson towards the end. “Those two times, oh my god it was amazing”. VEDA being a thing also helps from a scheduling standpoint
Seth and Tricia Helfer (EDI) only got to be in the booth actually together 1 time, to record/shoot a piece of promotional video. “We actually got to record a scene together and we were like ‘oh my god this is the best thing ever’. It was great, even though I had to stand on a stool. She’s the best”
Seth: “As an actor, the kind of opportunity to do this kind of material in games just didn’t exist.” Fred: “Oh, never! I had never had a villain part that was complicated like that. In a game? Never before, it was really interesting”
Raphael always goes back to the fact that ME brought more women into gaming than any other game before it. “The writing and the complexity of the relationships gave us so much ballast”. “This set this apart from running, shooting, gunning, looting”
JHale: “What I noticed in the times before when I got to be around fans, there was a huge hunger among women in the gaming world for something they could really jump into. They were starving for something which fed them what they deserved and needed”
Mac: “[praising Caroline] Caroline would often come to us as writers and challenge us and say, as an example, ‘Do we really need another male character to do this? Why are we writing another male character for this?’ She pushed that very early and to the betterment of everything we created”
PW: “Karin and Cookie and all of the editors across the trilogy, [were critical in] making sure that Shepard sounded consistent - [especially since] we had a large writing team, writers came and went, Mac is the only one with a significant writing contribution on each of the games”
PW: “[on game dev] It’s a process of getting hundreds of people pointed in the same direction, all believing that this is something worth doing”
Ash: “Having all the different possibilities and avenues, going back to play them all out in the different ways [really helped to round the character of Tali out and make her feel like a natural person]”.
VAs only get paid for the original recording sessions, not again (as in they don’t any royalties or anything from something like the remaster)
In MELE, they left all the original credits at the end of each game in
Fred: “It’s creating in five dimensions [because of all the outcomes and relationships etc]”. Seth: “The cool thing is that the audience feels that. They’re immediately struck by how dense, thought-out, prepared and planned the entire universe is”
How was it for the new MELE devs coming onto this? Crystal: “I knew it [the series and fans’ love for it] was big, but I didn’t know it was BIG! Working on MELE there was this infectious excitement. Being part of it was so exciting.” Melanie: “I came on at ME3, I had a 3 or 4 year honeymoon period with BioWare. Coming onto MELE, I’m getting really emotional. One of my first meetings originally was going into a cinematic review for an epic Tali scene in ME3”. Crystal: “On MELE, we had an hour or 2 every day where the team came together to play the game. In those reviews, a lot of the devs who worked on the original would tell all these stories. It was really fun to hear all the inside stories on ME’s creation and be a part of that”
DC: “Should this unit get vaccinated?” Ash: “Of course”
How do they think ME will be viewed in the next 10-20 years, what do they think its legacy will be? A piece of history, ground-breaking. It broke down some barriers and opened doors for people. It’s a powerful, powerful community. It’ll continue to age quite well and be enjoyed by a new generation, it’s original and evergreen and there’s a lot in it that people go back to. There’s a lot of universal things in it (personal experiences, like there will always be love, people fighting to belong, trying to make sense of their pasts etc)
JHale and Alix did the “I love you Shepard, now go save the world again” Shep-Sam exchange and both got teary. It was then Seth’s turn to line-read: “Jesus Christ, now that I’m good and choked up, fucking mess”. Ali was also actually crying from it
Seth: “It can’t be overstated, this community is so large and global, it is one of the most powerful fandoms that I’ve ever been greeted with. Thank you”. Ash: “It’s the most amazing group of fans ever. We’re all so grateful”
Some funny anecdotes/stories:
PW didn’t realize that Alix could do different accents. They remember a time when they were listening in the booth and an Alliance soldier was complaining about the gear had been given. They said “Wow that’s really good, who is that?” and the VO producer said “That’s Alix, Patrick”, “because she wasn’t doing her [normal British accent but was doing a Californian accent instead]. Alix roasted me later for not recognizing her voice and never let me heard the end of it”
Alix: “[on Sam’s toothbrush] Caroline’s like, ‘So then she pulls her toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘What? Sorry? A toothbrush?’ and obviously it’s funny now as everyone knows that Sam’s thing is her toothbrush. Caroline’s like ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta like, flirt, over the toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘Who wrote this - a frickin toothbrush, are you kidding me? Really guys?’ ANYWAY. I was wrong and it worked. :D”
Fred: “I remember a 12 year old kid coming up to me and being like [flat tone] ‘Oh yeah. I killed you’.”
Keythe: “The other assasin I play is Kellogg in Fallout 4. People come up to me like ‘Omg. I love you so much. And then I fucking KILLED you!’”
Courtenay once went out to dinner in NZ with a few prominent people from the Game of Thrones cast. “Everyone around was making a big deal out of it like ‘Omg, it’s so-and-so from GoT’. I was feeling a bit like ‘Hi, I’m here, just nobody’. And I looked around in the restaurant and there's one guy in the corner and he’s got an N7 shirt on and he’s just looking at me like [knowing look, does a peace sign]. And I’m like ‘I got one! I love you guys!’”
PW: “I have a question for the cast members, because I don’t know if JHale has done this to all of you or if she just does it to the devs. Show of hands if Jen has ever made you do push-ups.” JHale: “It’s just you guys”
Karin: “One of my favorite editing files that I ever had was a ME file. It was before Seth was coming in for a session. I opened it up and it was just 20, 25 lines with the word ‘Shit’, over and over again, and I was like, ‘This file is perfect, I don’t need to do anything to it, have fun!’”
Seth: “Didn’t we do a track that’s like 60 seconds of laughing? Escalating laughing? I don’t know about other actors but for me getting into a laughing fit is kind of like trying to get into a crying fit, it takes the same level of commitment, you start to follow a path until like you’re hysterically uncontrollably laughing. I remember looking through the glass, and I’m deep in it at this point, and I make eye contact, and I can see from the other side of the booth and they’re like [making ‘okay you can stop’ now gestures] - ‘Like that’s plenty, we got it’ and I was like ‘okay, okay [dying]’”
JHale: “The craziest thing Mark and I had to deal with was how many times we had to say ‘I should go’”. Mark: “We also, Caroline and I tended to use that as short hand when I needed to go to the bathroom”
The panel host: “The first time I interviewed Ali was a decade ago. She did the ‘I’ll flay you alive with my mind’ line halfway through, it was my first interview and I literally fell out of my seat [from being star-struck]”
Ash line-read Tali’s drunk omni-tattoo scene and in response DC said “I totally get why people wanna romanticize all these characters :D”. Karin: “We’ve had more than one person come up to us and show us actual tattoos that looked like that”
[source]
#bioware#mass effect#video games#covid mention#long post#longpost#garrus vakarian#best boy#feels#lul
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The Line of Duty pt. 2
Intel said that a small branch of Cerberus was still out here. The Alliance believes that someone else took up the mantel after the Illusive Man, and although the resulting organization is definitely less powerful, it's still a problem to be solved. Everything suggested that this would be an easy run, so Shepard decided to take Private Grange out as a learning opportunity. He landed the shuttle a ways back from the facility, and together the squad moved towards it on foot. Shepard took the lead, with Grange and Wilson following quietly behind her. After they cleared the entrance, Shepard removed her helmet and the others followed suite. She switched on her the small visor she had layered underneath and began to examine a nearby console for data when a gunshot sounded loudly behind her. She turned just in time to see Grange as he hit her squarely with the butt of his gun.
When she came to, she was laying in a small room somewhere in the facility. Grange was there, along with another man in a Cerberus uniform. She laid still and listened.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't do it. She saved us." Grange sounded conflicted and scared.
"We scouted you because we thought you would be better than this. You are a disappointment. I'll kill her myself." the man said.
Before Shepard could move, the man shot him point blank in the head. She threw him with her biotics, picked up the man's gun, and shot him until she was sure he was dead. She looked around the room and quickly found a crate containing her weapons. She checked each gun over; they were all dead. Someone, probably Grange, had sabotaged them. She holstered them, not wanting to leave them behind, and took the dead man's weapon with her. To make matters worse, her armor had been relieved of all extra ammo, as had Grange's. The man didn't seem to carry much, either. Getting out of there would be difficult.
She tried her comms, but of course they were blocked. She'd have to make it out alone, with a single working gun, little ammo, and her biotics. She pulled on her helmet and followed the hall to a door at the end and ducked to the side of the doorway as it opened. "Huh?" she heard a Cerberus soldier say. As he approached the door, she pulled him through the entrance and slammed him into the ground, letting her biotics add to the force. The soldiers still in the room opened fire at the doorway. She waited until it seemed to slow and leaned around, finding her target and shooting quickly. She downed two soldiers before the gun beeped loudly, signaling it's lack of ammo. The other three reacted by charging at her, so she unleashed a large singularity that caught them all.
An alarm sounded, and she knew that she was in for it, so she grabbed a gun off one of the bodies and ran. She fought her way through several rounds of soldiers like this until she found the door.
She raced towards the shuttle as fast as she could, and she was almost there when she heard Cerberus soldiers shouting behind her. She dove behind the nearest rock and then peaked around it, counting 5 soldiers running towards her. She hopped up and let off several shots at the first man before ducking back again. The soldiers returned fire, and she risked the hit to release a shockwave in their direction, causing three of them to stumble backwards. She let off several shots at them before taking cover again. She counted two men still alive. She gave her biotics a moment to recharge, then stepped sideways from tbe cover and released a singularity. The men were much closer, and the singularity caught both of them with ease.
Unfortunately, one of them had let off a shield breaking shot at the same time. It downed her shields instantly, leaving her vulnerable to the next shot fired by his companion. In the exact moment the singularity hit them, the bullet lodged itself in her thigh. She cried in pain and dropped to the ground, gripping her thigh tightly around the wound. She saw several more soldiers flooding out of the building. "Fuck!" she shouted as she pulled herself to her feet. She limped the short distance to the shuttle and was taking off before the soldiers managed to get close to her.
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
When Shepard wakes up, the med bay is dark except for the small lamp at Karin's desk. She sits up and sharply inhales at the splitting pain in her head. What the hell happened? She doesn't remember getting back to the Normandy or arriving in the med bay. She gently brings her hand to her head, feeling a thick bandage under her fingers. Fuck, that hurts.
"Commander, how are you feeling?" Dr. Chakwas asks, rising from her chair. Her eyes are tired, either from the weight of worry or a simple lack of sleep, Hazel surmises.
"My head aches, but I'll live. I need to speak to Lieutenant Vega and Admiral Hackett immediately."
"I'll get him for you, of course. But Commander, I advise you to take it easy."
"Noted, but this is important. Can you pass me my leg, please?" Shepard asks, gesturing towards the prosthetic leaning against a nearby wall.
"Of course, Commander." Karin walks across the room and picks up the leg. "Will you at least allow me to accompany you to the communications terminal?"
"As my friend or my doctor?" Shepard smirks at her as she hands over the prosthetic.
"Both." Karin smiles.
Shepard nods as she pulls on her prosthetic. Together, the two women walk to the communications room.
#fanfic#mass effect#commander shepard#female shepard#kaidan alenko#shepard x kaidan#f!shenko#shenko#shepard#fshenko
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Fena: Pirate Princess First Impressions
I watched the 1-hour premiere on Toonami with my friends on Discord. After sleeping and having a chance to collect my thoughts, I have a few things to say about it, both positive and negative.
Toonami has fallen by the wayside for me in recent years as they did not have any anime that grabbed my interest. This is actually the first time I’ve watched Toonami in many months. Fena: Pirate Princess and Uzumaki, first announced back in 2020, caught my attention as potential shows to latch onto.
It’s obvious to me that Adult Swim is investing heavily in this anime’s success and I thought that was one reason why we had a 2-episode premiere on Saturday night. However, after watching, I realize that it was also strategic: the two episodes don’t really do much other than set up the main conflict going forward and introduce the core cast of characters. Episode 3 seems to be where the action kicks off.
I’ve noticed a lot of people compare Fena to One Piece, and while I can see why given the importance of pirates and the vaguely 18th-century world, but beyond that initial aesthetic, that’s where the similarities end. If I can compare this to anything, it reminds me more of Scrapped Princess or Yona of the Dawn, especially the pirate arc of that story. In fact, the anime hits a lot of the same beats from shows of the late ‘90s and early 2000s from the animation, character designs, and overall plot.
Fena: Pirate Princess follows the titular Fena Houtman, who escapes an arranged marriage to uncover the secret of her deceased father’s final mission and become an independent woman. She’s accompanied by a troupe of ninjas who are all sworn to protect her family. I will say that it’s a fun, clever way to put an end to the eternal ninjas vs. pirates debate and I can’t help but think the folks at Adult Swim had a hand in that.
Starting off with the positives, I’ll begin with the center of the story: Fena.
We’re only two episodes in and I already love Fena. She’s cute, funny, upbeat, and clearly has a wild, independent streak to her. That being said, some people may be a little chafed to see her largely being a distressed damsel for the majority of the first episode. However, that was never really a problem for me, as it’s obvious the anime is about her personal growth to being a take-charge woman. Her positive personality is also a good contrast for the world around her, since she starts off initially treated as an object to be bought and sold to the highest bidder. Fena’s introduction also serves as another positive for me in the series: the comedy.
I’ll be honest: I was rather taken aback to see the use of comedic slapstick in this anime when it looked to be billed as an action/adventure anime, but I never found it so overused that I started rolling my eyes. The comedic lighthearted moments weren’t too obtrusive for me to stop watching it, but it did catch me off-guard to see so much comedy in what I thought would be a serious show.
Speaking of disparate elements, there is some romance in this anime. The reason for this might be because of who’s directing the anime: Kazuto Nakazawa. In the runup to this anime’s premiere, Nakazawa cited one of his influences for Fena as shojo manga and it’s obvious that those elements are very present here, from the very first episode. And that wouldn’t necessarily bother me if Fena’s love interest wasn’t so cold and distant.
That brings me to my first criticism: Yukimaru.
I’m sorry, I just don’t like this guy. At one point I even called him “bargain bin Sasuke” in the stream and people immediately agreed with me. I get that he’s supposed to be this cool and aloof tsundere type who undergoes growth, but for someone who is supposed to be Fena’s oldest childhood friend, he treats her more as a nuisance than as someone to protect. For god’s sake, the first thing he does when they reunite is knock her out when she gets too chatty (a potential running gag that may turn off some viewers). I’m willing to give him a chance since we’re only two episodes in, but he still has a long way to go before he gets into my good graces.
Speaking of Yukimaru, the other problem I have is the other ninjas don’t really stand out to me in any meaningful way. Karin is the only one who I could potentially like as she’s portrayed as not only a gun afficionado and a gearhead (channeling some Winry Rockbell here) but I could also see her as a good friend and foil to Fena. The twins Kaede and Enju I see as either the funniest characters of the crew or the most annoying, depending on who you ask. Shitan is another cool hot guy that could provide grounds for a love triangle. Again, we’re only two episodes in, but if this starts going into shojo romance territory, I may be turned off. I can’t even really say anything about the others as they lack any kind of presence for me.
Let me circle around to another positive: the art direction. This anime looks visually striking and has some interested and varied locales so far. The island Fena escapes from reminds me a lot of sets from Pirates of the Caribbean. The entire island is covered in this purple light which gives it a foreboding air, especially in the red light districts. Fena’s room was packed with a lot of intricate details that tell me a lot of work went into the backgrounds and sets.
The animation is no slouch, either. All the action sequences are eye-catching, the opening and endings are gorgeous to look at, and even the comedic asides looks visually appealing. If nothing else, this anime is pretty to look at, which is to be expected from a studio of such high caliber as Production I.G. (Ghost in the Shell, Psycho-Pass, Haikyu!!).
My last criticism I have is the pacing of the show, which is rather breakneck and could cause some problems later if it continues at the current rate. Even the dialogue moves at a fast clip. I never felt like I got a chance to know all of the characters in this anime (except Fena) or understand the world. It might be because Jason DeMarco (VP of Toonami) has said this will only get more seasons if the first one does well in ratings, so they might just be going at the pace of a 1-cour anime to play it safe. However, I think that might work against the anime since there is only so much you can hope to accomplish in 13 episodes.
Overall, Fena Pirate Princess doesn’t get off to a perfect start, but it’s sure a fun ride along the way. Fena is a cute and endearing protagonist who has the potential to be more, the world is a visually beautiful and interesting blend of 18th century steampunk, and there are even some moments that will make you laugh out loud. The potential love story might turn out to be lacking and the pacing may be too fast for some, but I’ve learned to never say never and always give everything a fair chance.
Can’t wait to see Episode 3.
#fena: pirate princess#toonami#Adult Swim#anime#production i.g.#fena houtman#fena#yukimaru#japanese animation#anime review#first impressions#kaizoku oujo
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Making a black hole rug through tufting.
Size, myself as davincys The vitruvian man.
A vitruvian woman
This project is an exploration of what happens when you start a project if I don’t have any topic. What happens when working on pure intuition? What is intuition? Active intuition.
“loosing the thread, finding the thread, etc”
I have started a big piece, biggest thing I’ve ever made. That teaches me a lot. The process is so different from working with all photo materials in the world available. Here is only me, the black yarn, the tufting gun and the frame. And every movement stays in the fabric. No where to hide or toss away any part of the process. The whole process of learning a new medium is here visible. I like that. The start was really complex, and it took me four days to learn the machine and prepare. So fragile gun.. every movement of the thread stops the gun from tufting. Have to unsolve all the thread, (order to chaos), the smallest knot or resistance in the thread stops the process and cuts the thread. Then I have to have the exact right angle towards the fabric, and then use a lot of pressure for it to stick. It’s really physical. A strange mix of super senaitive and fragile, and a lot of power and noise. All body shaking. Painful positions. Limited movement. And then learning slowly. Trying movement. Also love the limitation of the possible movements. New type of patterns/drawing style appears. The black holes backside tracing a process of learning. And the movement of dissolving the thread has to be circular, its like a dance of circular repetitions. Fragile. But burns my fingers if I’m going too fast. Opening up the threadball from order to chaos, then tufting and forcing it back to a new order. Which becomes chaos, but within a circle, which is perhaps another kind of order. If I’m to bald in trying to move the gun to draw more vertical lines, the thread sticks in the gun. Being open and focused, soft yet firm at the same time, like this forcing me to not fall out into thoughts. One thing that is repeating regarding this process is that one second everything about why I do this is clear to me, in the next, complete confusion. Every time I write or reflect about it, is a kind of portal: I never know which of these two exit I’m moving towards. This reflects very well the metaphor of a black hole and wormholes. Solid chaos in order, or opposite. And the “nuddle effect” which surrounds the black hole, where everything is dissolving into threads, also fits this tufting experience both mentally and physically. Fragile and massive at the same time. It is a painful process if I’m staying in my head and try to find conclusions. But if I am open and intuitive and remember this is my intention and goal of this exercise, this process reflects and teaches me a lot. About the fruitful or nutritious present moment. The pure joy of not knowing, of just creating and trying to learn through investigating materials.
Second Notes: people are drawn to the black hole, they share words and thoughts with me. Black hole is a magnet to words, people, topics and thoughts. Some of them:
You are like a spider making a spiderweb.
“Brakkvann”. About letting some work rest, and continue later.
Black threads like “the red thread”?
When is something finished? “When you feel you got an answer”. (Karin)
“Vitruvian woman”
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My list of X-Files inspired BBC Sherlock fic prompts
I recently finished reading @88thparallel‘s fabulous “Written in Ashes”, a BBC Sherlock fic inspired by the X-Files episode Demons.
I’m a huge X-Files fan myself, and the idea of adapting an XF story into a Sherlock one sent me down a rabbit hole.
I decided to compose a list of ideas, all up for grabs, for X-Files plots that can be adapted in interesting ways to a BBC Sherlock casefics.
Below you’ll find a list of X-Files episode with their original description, and some suggestions based on my knowledge of the two shows of what makes the plot an interesting one to write.
As I mentioned, these ideas are PROMPTS, suggestions - feel free to write them. In fact it’ll be my honor! Let me know if and when you do (I might even create a collection for them in AO3).
Ice (1x07) - Mulder and Scully investigate the death of an Alaskan research team. Isolated and alone, the agents and their accompanying team discover the existence of extraterrestrial parasitic organisms that drive their hosts into impulsive fits of rage.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: extreme nature adventures (mountains, snow, remote research facilities); isolated together with strangers in a distant location (Ice was supposed to be a bottle episode); a lot of suspense as Mulder and Scully’s trust in each other is put to the test (a handgun showdown), physical inspections rife with sexual tension, ooo!
Darkness Falls (1x19) - Mulder and Scully are called in to investigate when a team of loggers disappear without a trace. Initially suspecting eco-terrorism, the agents find themselves trapped by a seemingly ancient menace lurking in the woods. According to Wikipedia, “Chris Carter was inspired to write this episode based on an interest in dendrochronology (sic? that’s how it’s spelled in wikipedia), a subject that involves analyzing annual growth rings found in non-tropical tree species.” An interesting topic to develop!
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Just like in Ice, opportunity to write magnificent nature descriptions; also like in Ice, Mulder and Scully have to fend to themselves against the ‘others’; wonderful quotes such as “Rugged manly-men. In the full bloom of their manhood.” and “Come on, Scully. It'll be a nice trip to the forest." A Three Garridebs moment could work here!
Pusher (3x17) - Ah, Pusher. An early Vince Gilligan classic! Mulder and Scully’s assistance is requested for a case involving a man, who goes by the pseudonym "Pusher", seemingly capable of bending people to his will. The suspect uses his mysterious abilities to manipulate Mulder into a dangerous end game.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Many parallels can be found between Modell and Eurus and or Moriarty; the game of cat and mouse in hopes of luring Mulder as the end game is quite similar to the TFP/TGG; the final game of Russian roulette with Mulder at the end is a classic MSR scene which could be lovely to write for John and Sherlock (Gillian is amazing with that One Tear™ while she threatens Modell); an opportunity to instill a fear of a very specific shade of blue in your readers; a chance of a sequel, since Modell returns with a vengeance in Kitsunegari.
Jose Chung's From Outer Space (3X20) - Mulder and Scully hear, and promptly investigate, a story about an alien abduction of two teenagers. Each witness provides a different version of the same facts. Within the episode, a thriller novelist, Jose Chung, writes a book about the incident.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Humor! Lots and lots self-aware, meta-type inner-jokes humor as an observant book writer describes Mulder/Sherlock’s many weird traits.
Avatar (3x21) - Assistant Director Walter Skinner is accused of murdering a prostitute, Mulder and Scully investigate to determine the truth behind what happened.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A fine chance to turn Skinner into Sholto or one of John’s other army friends (Skinner discusses trauma from his days in Vietnam in this episode, which could be adapted to Afghanistan). John Asks for Sherlock’s help on behalf of Sholto/said friend and there’s a thrilling prospect of some good old jealousy :) *After writing this I kinda fell in love with this idea and I might attempt writing this, but I’m absolutely not claiming this exclusively! If you like the idea go ahead!
Paper Hearts (4X08) - Another Vince Gilligan episode, my go-to one these days for when I miss the show and need a good dose of Mulder and Scully. I can go on and on about why I love this episode but I’ll spare you from that right now ;) Mulder and Scully find that a child killer who Mulder had helped to apprehend several years earlier had claimed more victims than he had confessed to; and in the resulting investigation, learn that the killer is now claiming to have killed Mulder's sister Samantha.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The Alice in Wonderland theme in the episode is somewhat reminiscent of the Hansel and Gretel theme from TRF so Moriarty could be one way to go; another way to go is have Eurus as a villain in a TFP plot fix-it (if you find the Sherrinford plot exaggerated), with Sherlock’s hope of finding Victor’s body by the end of the game.
Zero Sum (4x21) - In the episode, a case Mulder is asked to investigate is covertly covered up by the agents' boss Walter Skinner, who has made a sinister bargain with The Smoking Man. Scully is missing in this episode (Mulder cites her cancer treatments; Gillian Anderson was filming something else at the time).
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A wonderful opportunity for a Lestrade-as-Skinner story! (and you’re given a fine chance to write a Lestade naked with nothing but pants situation); Mulder is a bit lost without Scully in this episode so that’s added background Johnlock angst; the story can happen when John is away, either during his honeymoon or after Mary dies.
The Pine Bluff Variant (5x18) - This is an underrated episode which I quite like, personally. Scully grows suspicious of Mulder when she thinks he may be helping a terrorist organization. Scully begins to wonder if he is now a traitor to the FBI. It is eventually revealed that Mulder is working as a mole in the group, and he is trying to stop them before they are able to use a biological weapon—that may have been created by members of the U.S. government—which causes rapid degeneration of human flesh.
Cool plot points you might enjoy: alternating POVs between Sherlock and John; a lot of tension between John and Sherlock while John is suspicious; Mycroft recruiting Sherlock to appear as a traitor.
Triangle (6x03) - What can I possibly say about Triangle that hadn’t been said before?
Cool plot points you might enjoy: An AU-within-AU opportunity - a chance for John and Sherlock to meet in a WW2 era, saved by rebel-Nazi Lestrade, Sherlock’s irregulars are The Lone Gunmen, a kiss, a punch, “You’re my one in five billion” (remember when there 5 billion people on this planet?) :) If you do write this, please make sure present John and past John pass each other by and get a strange, tingling sensation as a result! It’s one of my favorite scenes in the entire show.
Dreamland I & II (6x04 and 6x05) - Mulder and Scully visit Area 51. But when the agents witness the flight of a mysterious craft, Mulder and a member of the Men in Black switch bodies, unbeknownst to the others. In part two, Scully begins to suspect that her partner's strange behavior is more than it appears to be, while Mulder fights to return his life to normal before it is too late.
Cool plot points you might enjoy: Humor, humor and more humor. Mostly Morris Fletcher trying to bed John (=Scully) who promptly pulls a gun on him. That should be an awesome scene to write in and of itself. And let’s not forget “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt, plain yogurt, into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick even though I tell you you're a doctor and you should know better.“ as well as “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly.”
Tithonus (6x09) - Another underrated episode. I think it deals with the theme of death’s inevitability rather beautifully. Scully learns that she, but not Mulder, is being given a chance to prove her worth at the FBI, and—paired with a new partner—she investigates a crime scene photographer with an uncanny knack for arriving just in time to see his victims' final moments. What she does not expect, however, is for Death to play a role himself.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: John exploring on his own, for one reason or another, attached to another investigator (things happen!); this episode further explores a theory referred throughout the show since Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose, that Dana Scully is immortal (she seems to avoid death in this episode as well). It’s an Appointment in Samarra sort of story.
Monday (6x15) - Mulder and Scully are stuck in a deadly time loop. It’s a story that writes itself!
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Sherlock or John having a really bad morning, over and over again.
Alpha (6x16) - Mulder and Scully investigate several killings blamed on an Asian dog called the Wanshang Dhole, thought to be extinct. Mulder and Scully join an obstinate Sheriff, a seemingly eccentric hunter, and a reclusive canine expert to find it. However, there is more mystery to the expert than meets the eye.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: I enjoy this episode because it has some gentle but obvious MSR moments. Scully is suspicious (and low-key jealous) of Karin Berquist’s involvement in the case and it colors her opinion of the investigation. A key quote in this episode, preformed softly and beautifully by Gillian, is: “She's enamored of you Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too.”
The Unnatural (6x17) - This is a weird ass episode, let’s admit it. This is DD’s love story to baseball and it’s silly and sometimes boring/slow. BUT, it has lovely MRS moments.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The structure of story within a story (Mulder retells his time spent with Arthur Dales who tells him the story of Josh Exley) is interesting enough. The opening and closing scenes are lovely as well of course!
X-Cops (7x12) - Mulder and Scully are interviewed for the Fox reality television program Cops during an X-Files investigation. Mulder, hunting what he believes to be a werewolf, discovers that the monster terrorizing people instead feeds on fear. While Mulder embraces the publicity of Cops, Scully is more uncomfortable about appearing on national television.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: It’s your chance to write a Sherlock crossver fic about an X-Files crossover episode. If that’s not cool, I don’t no what is.
Hollywood A.D. (7x18) - Let’s admit it, Hollywood A.D is not a good episode, as funny as it is. This episode was one of the first signs the show had lost its edge, possibly because they thought this would be their truly-this-time last season. However, it IS funny and gave rise to fans claims that by this point, Mulder and Scully were Definitely Sleeping Together. Wayne Federman, an entrepreneurial Hollywood producer and college friend of Walter Skinner picks up the idea for a film based on the X-Files, however Mulder and Scully find that the level of realism in their fictional portrayal is somewhat questionable. Meanwhile, during the filming of the movie, Mulder and Scully research the mysterious "Lazarus Bowl", an artifact that supposedly has the exact words that Jesus Christ spoke to raise Lazarus from the dead recorded on its surface.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Lots of inner-jokes and crack humor, many fluffy moments, the chance to imagine who’ll play Lestrade, Sherlock and John in a BBC Film, Lazarus could refer to The Fall(!), which could be the plot to said film.
The X-Files: I Want to Believe - Mulder and Scully have both left the FBI, but when an FBI agent is mysteriously kidnapped, and a former priest who has been convicted of being a child molester claims to be experiencing psychic visions of the endangered agent, they reluctantly accept the FBI's request for their paranormal expertise.
I know, I know. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t like it either at first, but a) compared to the revival seasons, it’s not that bad and b) in terms of established relationship angst, it’s a fucking goldmine.
Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A chance to write a post-recent-retirement fic for Sherlock and John, with a lot of tension in their established relationship based around John’s reluctance to return to their lives as investigators. IWTB has quotes like “This isn't my life anymore, Mulder. I'm done chasing monsters in the dark.” and “This stubbornness of yours, it's why I fell in love with you.” So there! Don’t dismiss the idea so quickly!
Wow, this turned out longer than I expected! I hope you liked them, and even if you don’t write anything - I definitely enjoyed this exercise.
My finished fics are ready to be read on AO3 :)
#bbc sherlock#sherlock fic#sherlock fic prompts#x-files#the x files#sherlock/x-files crossovers#john watson#sherlock holmes#dana scully#fox mulder
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Teenage Wolfpack
This is, unfortunately, not a werewolf movie.
That’s it. That’s why I’m reviewing it. The title suggested a werewolf movie, the film itself would have been way more fun if it were a werewolf movie, it wasn’t, and now I’m annoyed. I felt the same way about The Wolf of Wall Street but that one is way too upscale for this blog.
After opening credits set to some very catchy and extremely inappropriate swing music, we meet brothers Freddie and John Morgan. Freddie, in his early twenties, was driven out of the house by their asshole father and now commits crime and dates underage girls. John, age eighteen, still lives at home but is getting increasingly frustrated, especially when Mr. Morgan mistreats his wife. In search of money to help his mother, Johnny gets drawn into Freddie’s web of crime. Things start going south when the gang rob the wrong postal truck, ending up with mail instead of money, but Freddie’s girlfriend finds something in one of the stolen letters that makes him think maybe, just maybe, he can make crime pay after all.
On the surface at least, Teenage Wolfpack is a pretty serviceable movie. The dialogue mostly makes sense and you can usually tell what’s going on. There are times when it sets things up and pays them off pretty efficiently, but at nearly eighty minutes long, there is also a lot of time spent dithering around accomplishing nothing. The opening, for example, where we are introduced to Freddie and his buddies as they show off their pasty German bellies at a swimming pool. They sexually harass random women, beat up the staff, and annoy their girlfriends. This bit is far too long and ultimately does very little for the story. Later we’re treated to a lengthy dance number, a weird sequence with a boy who admires Freddie throwing away his jacket, and a kidnapped dog, which are similarly useless.
The dog especially. It’s a little wiener dog and it’s very cute, but it never does anything except hang out and be cuddled. I kept expecting it to either get killed or for it to somehow be instrumental in the plot but it’s just a random dog and when things are supposed to be getting intense it vanishes from the story. It also never barks once, which makes me wonder if the movie crew sedated it before filming. My neighbours have two dachshunds and those little bastards never shut up, ever.
Outside of that, the story makes a reasonable amount of sense. There are bits in which you’re not sure what people are actually talking about, but most of those end up not really mattering. The final plot point, about the money at the bar, is not very clear at all – characters talk about what they found in the letter but we never get any details, or even see the text they’re reading (possibly this was simply cut from the English dub), so we only have the vaguest idea what they’re looking for. Worse for this ending, and the thing that pretty much kills the whole film, is that it is entirely lacking in tension. The guys are sneaking into the bar owner’s house to rob him while John, who has had enough of this, races to try to stop them. There’s a four-way standoff between Freddie, John, Freddie’s girlfriend Cissy, and the bar owner, in which the latter two are shot, but somehow the movie manages to make this downright boring.
I think a part of the problem may be that the stakes here are much lower than the earlier robbery of the postal truck, which involved fistfights and sneaking by the police (does anybody happen to know when ambulances were invented? Because there’s a scene in this movie where a policeman flags down a random passer-by to ask them to take an accident victim to the hospital). Here they’re just sneaking around a house and their only foe, besides each other, is a man with a heart condition. I guess we’re supposed to be worried for the bar owner, but he’s not really a character, just an Italian stereotype even broader and more offensive than that skit from Devil Fish.
The other issue is that we’re not really sure what this movie wants to be. Of course it’s a morality play, teaching us that criminals can never win, but it kind of wanders around that point in circles rather than attacking it from any particular angle that might unify the story. There are repeated hints that John is going to end up taking the blame for Freddie’s shenanigans, but the story never follows through on that. Cissy plays it sweet for most of the movie but turns out to be the very worst of this nasty lot, lying and trying to turn the brothers against each other… that was kind of a fun twist, but it’s not at all necessary to the plot. At the end, Freddie and John’s father turns up to identify these two criminals as his sons, but then the movie’s over, without any attempt at exploring what this means for the family. Mr. Morgan is clearly upset to see them getting arrested, but whether he will reconcile with Freddie or just disown John along with him, we never find out.
Cissy, by the way, is supposed to be fifteen. We never find out how old Freddie is exactly, but he’s at least a couple of years older than eighteen-year-old John. That’s a little questionable, but what’s even more questionable is the camera’s loving attention to her ass, especially when actress Karin Baal was only sixteen when she was in this movie.
The thing MST3K would have surely had the most fun with is the characters, which are very flat. John is a Wholesome Young Man who does things like remind his brother, who has just stolen a car right in front of him, to obey the speed limit. Mike, Tom, and Crow would have added their own dialogue to characterize him as a hopeless sniveling Mama’s Boy and it wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration. He’s supposed to be conflicted once the actual crime begins but instead he just comes across as a fool, willfully ignoring what Freddie’s really up to in the attempt to feel better about his own part in it.
Like a number of characters in MST3K movies about young criminals, the movie balks at actually allowing John to commit a crime. He does hit a guy over the head with a gun, but the guy volunteered for it in exchange for some money from Freddie! While Freddie’s gang beat people up and rob the mail truck, John is merely distracting a night watchman by giving him a letter to mail. It’s never very clear how much John knows about the whole plan. He went to Freddie because he knows he needs more money than he can get through legitimate means. He has seen them steal a car and when he’s sent to ‘borrow’ one he must know that the original owner probably isn’t getting it back, even if he’s able to secure it without any violence. Yet in the face of all this, he does his level best to remain oblivious.
Freddie seems at once eager to have John as a partner and yet reluctant to actually bring him into the fold. In T-Bird Gang the bad guys had Frank commit an actual crime as a test, to make sure he was up to it and to secure his loyalty. Maybe it’s because John is family that Freddie doesn’t seem to feel a need to do this… maybe the ‘hit a guy’ thing was the test, but it didn’t feel like that. Freddie can’t seem to decide whether he wants to trust John or protect him, which is another thing that movie could have used as a focus for this story, but doesn’t. It never really tries to get into Freddie’s head at all, which is a shame.
I guess the reason these movies don’t want their ‘hero’ characters to commit crimes is because they want them to seem redeemable. The problem with this is that for a character to be redeemed, you need something to redeem them from. A person can’t pick themselves up if they’ve never actually fallen. Then again, I’m not sure this movie is about redemption. Freddie certainly never redeems himself. Cissy looks for a while like maybe she wants to get together with John and try a life of things other than crime, but doesn’t. And John is only barely a criminal – we don’t even hang around long enough to find out whether his father’s going to think he is, or whether he’s going to take the blame for the stolen car.
Like so many other of these movies, the only goal Teenage Wolfpack seems to have is to make the audience feel crummy. The moral lessons are barely a sketch and deeply unsatisfying. The title seems to suggest an exploitation film but the bad behaviour it showcases isn’t any fun to watch. The most interesting conflict the story sets up is between John, Freddie, and their father, but that is barely explored and certainly isn’t done justice. The film-makers seem to have been competent but the script gave them nothing to work with.
This really should have been a werewolf movie. Freddie’s been thrown out of the family for being a criminal, but when John goes to him looking for money, he discovers instead the terrible truth about the recent slew of animal attacks! John still loves his brother but Freddie’s pack of slavering werewolves are a danger to everybody in town… can he bring himself to break out the silver bullets, knowing that he’ll be labeled a fratricide? Can he protect the Italian bar owner, or even his own parents from werewolfish bloodlust? That would have been an amazing movie.
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A breakdown of each of the ‘Shadowplay’ episodes to air on ZDF in October. On ZDF the series will be airing as four, two hour episodes. This is a translation from German, so forgive me if there are mistakes.
*SPOILERS* after the cut:
Episode 1:
In 1946, the New York police officer Max McLaughlin traveled to the divided city of Berlin to help set up a civilian police force based on the American model. Max reports to Tom Franklin, the US Vice Consul in Berlin, whose fragile and seductive British wife Claire is immediately drawn to Max. Her appearance at social events, her hatred of Germans and her uninhibited flirtations make her a colorful personality. Max is enchanted, but at the same time senses the danger she poses. On the German side, he works with Chief Inspector Elsie Garten, whose husband is interned in a Russian prisoner-of-war camp. Their task force consists mainly of women and orphans, whose chair legs serve as batons and who have moved into their territory in a disused bank.
At the same time he is looking for his missing brother Moritz, with whom he is ominously connected through a traumatic experience in his childhood. But the Russians also cause problems: Max and Elsie barely manage to prevent Russian soldiers from shooting at defenseless German civilians who report to the unscrupulous Russian officer Izosimov. He also does not shy away from torture in order to snatch the information from the youngest member of the police force, the Jewish orphan Gad, which Elsie Garten can use for his purposes - and thus against the Americans. In another part of the city, Karin, who was raped by GIs, asks the Berlin doctor and criminal king Gladow, known as "the angel maker", for an illegal abortion. And for assistance in getting revenge on their tormentors. The price: the collaboration in his dangerous underground organization.
Starting with the retaliatory murder of the GIs and followed by the murder of a random eyewitness, Karin gradually changes from a passive victim to an active perpetrator. But Max is not only concerned with the double murder of the GIs, but also with an anonymous tip that leads him to the corpses of an ex-Nazi and his family in an abandoned building. The gruesome act seems like a murderous staging of the first prank from the German children's book "Max and Moritz", with which the two American brothers have happy memories of their German mother. Max's brother Moritz is hiding behind the crime and is taking cruel revenge on Nazis in hiding. When Moritz reveals himself, he demands the oath of loyalty that he once wrested from his little brother: Max should go on a campaign of revenge with him against every law.
Episode 2:
Max receives pressure from his superior and US Vice Consul in Berlin Tom Franklin to investigate the GIs murder as quickly as possible. He himself is driven by the search for his brother Moritz, who he fears that he will strike again.
And Moritz actually goes to the bike shop owner Berta Spiel in her shop and kidnaps her. Berta was an overseer in the Dachau camp and Moritz wants to get information about her former backers through her.
In the meantime, Max and Elsie interrogate Karin - without knowing how close they are to the GIs murderer. However, immediately after being questioned, Karin went underground in Berlin. She fled to the "angel maker" and offered him her active participation in his organization. As a first assignment, she received the task of channeling information into the eastern sector together with Marianne. There, however, the two women are attacked by Russian soldiers and Marianne is seriously injured. At the same time, the police force observes the hotel "Alt-Bayern", in which "Der Engelmacher" runs a brothel, because they hope to find Karin there.
Max meets Moritz's former commander, General Wright. He tells him about the traumatic experiences during the liberation of the Dachau concentration camp, which changed Moritz forever. And again Max receives a personal message from his brother Moritz. This leads him to a warehouse where he finds Berta Spiel, who died from her burns. The procedure is fatally reminiscent of the second prank from the children's book "Max and Moritz".
Elsie meets with the Russian officer Izosimov, who gives her the opportunity to see her husband Leopold again - on condition that she provides him with information about Max. Elsie agrees and begins to observe her colleague.
But then Max is kidnapped by the Nakam, a secret Jewish organization which, in turn, wages a campaign of revenge against Nazis who have gone underground and wants to win Max over for this.
Episode 3:
The two brothers' game of cat and mouse is drawing ever closer circles. Max doesn't find Moritz himself, but at least his hiding place: He has holed himself up in a boathouse where he abused his youngest victim - Oberlander, a high-ranking Nazi officer.
In the meantime, the Jewish auxiliary police officer Gad has found out that Karin is actually staying in the Hotel "Alt-Bayern". When Max and Elsie want to arrest them, Karin fires an anti-aircraft gun at the police force. She manages to flee in the resulting tumult and to warn the "angel maker" about the police in good time. To protect himself, Karin persuades to kill the injured Marianne. She is too weak to flee. Karin does what the diabolical charismatic demands of her - and thereby betrays not only her only friend, but ultimately also herself.
Claire visits Max in his hotel room and makes it clear to him that she wants more from him. Max still resists her charm and focuses on the search for his brother. When the two finally meet, the brothers engage in a merciless fight. They hit each other. Max remains unconscious on the floor and Moritz flees. When Max comes to, Oberlander is lying dead next to him. As if reflexively, Max disposed of the body. But he has to admit that his brother can no longer be saved and that he can no longer protect him.
Since Karin and "Der Engelmacher" believe that the police have evidence against them in their hands, they plan an attack on the police station - an attack that no one should survive.
Leopold in turn tries to escape from Russian captivity and is seriously injured in the process. Elsie asks Izosimov to let her husband go anyway. In return, she offers him to continue to cooperate with him. That same night Leopold tried to flee again with other prisoners. A firing squad kills all refugees. Only Leopold remains alive.
At a party at Franklin's house, Max finally gives in to Claire's advances. Neither he nor Claire suspect that Franklin is watching them. And then Moritz shows up at the party - in an American uniform. None of those present took special notice of him. Moritz's goal is still to get his brother on his side. Max gives him one last chance.
Episode 4:
Moritz has found documents in Oberlander's house that show that his superior, Consul Franklin, supports old Nazis by providing them with forged papers and thwarting their prosecution. In return, Franklin demands stolen art objects. In his fanatical love of art, he is even ready to kill for this immoral barter.
Max is now supported by Claire in his investigation. She gives him access to the basement of her villa and indeed there are many important works of art there. Claire is devastated when she realizes that her husband is cooperating with Nazis who wiped out her family during the war. She decides to leave Franklin and return to London.
Meanwhile, Max and Moritz argue what should happen to Franklin. Moritz wants to shoot him, while Max advocates bringing Franklin to justice. The following day Moritz disguises himself as a chauffeur and kidnaps Franklin and Claire in their car.
Elsie is very concerned about her husband's health. Although Leopold was able to escape the Russian firing squad, he is still close to death, as his tuberculosis is worsening day by day.
Karin and "Der Engelmacher" rehearse how to deposit the bomb in the police station. Her assistant Trude proves to be too nervous, whereupon "Der Engelmacher" kills her in cold blood. Then he urges Karin to plant the bomb herself. The perfidious plan of the "angel maker" works: The bomb goes off, the police officers flee and the followers of the "angel maker" shoot down the escaping officials. But Karin is recognized. At the last minute, she escapes police access. Max arrives just in time to put the attackers on the run with Elsie. An assassin who is badly injured on the ground reveals the whereabouts of the "angel maker" to Elsie. Max and Elsie finally track down the "angel maker" and take him to the police station for interrogation. This calls for a conversation with the high-ranking American agent Bob Travis. His demand is met and he succeeds in evading legal access. It is now a precious bargaining chip under the protection of the US government.
Moritz still keeps Claire and Franklin prisoner in a farm outside Berlin where the brothers grew up with their mother. Max follows him and is able to save Claire and Franklin from their brother's care. There is a gripping showdown between the brothers.
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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4
Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.
Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.
I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.
Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.
Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.
----
As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.
–
There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.
Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.
Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?
He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.
“Do you know Jupiter?”
“This eye... it follows me.”
“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”
“This planet's so big. It's so big...”
He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.
“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?
I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”
He smiled gently at the poster.
“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”
–
Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.
The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.
This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.
–
I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...
“How long's it been?”
It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.
Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.
“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”
“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.
“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”
None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.
–
The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.
Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.
“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”
“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”
“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”
I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.
However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.
–
Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.
I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.
I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...
In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.
“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.
“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”
“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”
“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”
I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.
I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.
Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.
–
After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.
The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.
“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”
She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.
“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”
Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.
“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”
“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.
“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”
“Wait, that's all I get?!”
“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”
Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!
I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.
“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”
“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”
“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”
The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.
“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”
–
“Well, that sure was something.”
Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.
My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.
My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.
The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.
Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.
Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.
“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”
In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.
–
Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.
Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.
There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.
–
“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?
“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!
“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”
The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.
“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!
“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”
–
The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.
Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?
She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.
Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.
–
“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!
“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”
The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.
“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”
The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.
He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.
“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”
–
With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.
“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”
“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”
I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...
“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”
“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”
“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.
“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.
----
“Eh?”
The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.
I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.
I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?
The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.
Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...
I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.
“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”
“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”
“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”
Hanazono?
My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.
“Eri, the hell are you doing?”
On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.
“What on earth...?”
A video of a building on fire. In real time.
A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.
The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.
-
As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.
“What's wrong?”
“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”
Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.
“Ugh...”
I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.
Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...
-
This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.
Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.
“Eri, wait.”
Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.
“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”
“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”
“What is it?”
I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.
“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”
The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.
“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.
“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”
She checked the screen and sighed.
“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””
“That's all?”
“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.
----
I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.
What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!
–
As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.
This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.
Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.
The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.
How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?
I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.
-
An unexpected voice called me to a halt.
“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”
It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.
Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?
I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.
-
As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.
What I saw defied comprehension.
Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.
“Gah!”
El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.
Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.
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Cafe Soulmates: Eye Trauma Edition
SO it occurred to me that with the timeline I set for Soulmate AU, Pax’s mark is a reference to the fact that they only have one eye, but the events that result in the loss of their eye (as detailed in A Vivid Memory) don’t actually have any reason to occur if they meet the boys before the Bad End of their relationship with Vic. So their mark is a reference to a thing that Doesn’t Actually Occur.
So I, you know, Fixed That.
This takes place a few months after Soulmate AU parts one and two, with references to events that happen immediately after part 2, which i’m keeping intentionally vague for now.
(also just cause there’s a very brief reference to it here and in the last one: part of the Lore is that soulmate marks fade to gray if the person they represent dies.)
TW for: EYE TRAUMA, referenced unhealthy relationship dynamics/abusive relationship/gaslighting, gore, betrayal; mild unhealthy thought patterns; vague references to a past suicide attempt.
@whumpitywhumpwhump @burtlederp @gottalovethemwriters
----
The objective of Pax’s trip back upstate to Vic’s lab is to get their stuff and say goodbye. And their soulmates’ guarded sympathy (Kent) and open horror (Sol) at Pax’s description of their relationship (with their boss, who is more than twice as old and three times as rich as they are) is still very fresh in their mind.
But... but it’s harder to remember in Vic’s actual presence. When they tell him they’re leaving, he takes it so well, gathers up the few things he ever let them actually leave at his house (they’ve always been his dirty little secret, that was the initial appeal of the whole thing), cups their face in his soft cold hand and tells them he’ll miss them, and it’s—suddenly it seems dumb that Sol and Kent were so worried about this, that Sol practically begged them not to come. Sol and Kent are—well, Pax loves them, obviously, and knows they want the best for them. But they’re also naïve babies who are probably—projecting their own trauma onto a perfectly safe illicit affair that Pax has under complete control.
So—because it’s in person, and Vic smiles and squeezes their hand, and they owe him after all the patience he had with them when they were young and embarrassing—when Vic says he wishes Pax could help him with one more thing, as a real goodbye, Pax doesn’t say no.
----
Sol is pacing, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing but it must be for a long time because Kent is one of the most patient people he knows and even Kent is starting to get impatient with him.
“It’s just—It’s just a bad fucking idea,” he says, as his best attempt at a defense.
“I know,” Kent says.
“I mean, Jesus, they wouldn’t even tell us this guy’s name, how fucking shady is that? And they fucking worked for him.”
“I know,” Kent says.
“And they’re—they want us to think they’re so tough, they want us to think there’s nothing that can hurt them, but they’re not that much older than we are,” he says, taking a long drag that kills his third cigarette in ten minutes.
“I know,” Kent says, appearing suddenly in front of Sol and distracting him with a warm hand on his shoulder and then snatching the cigarette out of his mouth. “Sol,” Kent says, and searches Sol’s face with his big blue eyes, and then sighs. “Will you sit down, please? You’re making me dizzy.” And Kent steps back out of his space, taking Sol’s cigarette with him, which isn’t fair at all. Sol plops down on his shitty couch, running a hand roughly through his hair.
Kent stubs the cigarette carefully out on an ashtray Karine made in tenth grade art class—one of the few things Sol took with him when he left home, and probably the dumbest of them—and Sol literally isn’t even trying to be an asshole when he immediately pulls another one out of his pocket and lights it. He just needs something to do with his hands and his mouth.
Kent turns back, sees the lit cigarette in Sol’s mouth, draws back like an angry mother (Sol imagines, anyway; he doesn’t actually remember having one of those). Sol blinks at him. “What?” he says blankly around the cigarette.
“Jesus Christ, Sol,” Kent snaps, stomping forward, and this time he doesn’t bother with the cigarette dangling from Sol’s surprised parted lips, he dives straight for the pocket of Sol’s hoodie instead. “Give me your fucking lighter,” he snaps.
“What? No!” Sol shoves Kent’s hand away and Kent obligingly plants his knee next to Sol’s hip and climbs halfway in Sol’s lap, which is more than enough incentive for Sol not to give in easily. He leans back, more to keep from burning Kent with the end of his cigarette than anything else, and grabs the hand Kent is using to reach for his pocket to twine their fingers together and trap Kent’s hand against his chest. Kent uses his other hand to grab the lit cigarette and toss it behind him—it lands on the glass-top coffee table, so that should be fine—and his fingertips brush Sol’s lips, and then he twists that arm between them to reach for Sol’s pocket, grabbing hold of Sol’s lighter and darting his hand behind his back. Sol leans into him to reach for it, and Kent twists until Sol’s momentum tips him over backwards onto the couch, trapping his hand and Sol’s lighter underneath him, and Sol laughs, grateful for the transparent effort at a distraction, and swings his leg across Kent’s hips, happy enough to wrestle if that’s what Kent—
They both feel it at the same time.
The explosion of phantom pain in the whole right hemisphere of Sol’s face punches all the air out of him, his head dropping onto Kent’s chest, and he feels Kent gasp under him, hit with the same force—the pain is sharp, and burning, and not theirs.
Sol can’t move because horror has pulled all his muscles tight and he can’t relax them enough even to lift his head. Kent is equally still underneath him.
“Oh no,” Kent says, his voice all breath.
“Where are they,” Sol whispers, and he feels Kent force in a breath underneath him, hopes to god he’s getting something—Kent can feel shit Sol can’t even tell is there, and—and Pax is the best with directions, goddammit, but Sol will make it work, between the two of them they can—they can—
Kent sits up, pushing Sol off with one hand, gentle because he’s too distracted to use his full strength. His other hand is pressed hard over his right eye.
“They’re—they—fuck,” Kent croaks, holding a fistful of Sol’s hoodie like he needs it to stay upright. “I can’t—I can’t think, Sol, they’re hurt,” Kent says, his voice rising in growing panic.
“Can you tell what’s wrong?” Sol asks him urgently, reaching for Kent’s shoulder to better see his face, and because he knows Kent panics less when you hold him tightly—and Kent’s got the best sense of the three of them, his feelings are more specific. Sol’s is already fading to nothing but a dull ache in his head, he knows it’s physical pain but beyond that it could be anything.
Kent lets Sol turn him, though the eye he isn’t covering is unfocused and he isn’t seeing Sol at all. “It’s bad,” Kent whispers, his voice soft and horrified. “Is this what it was like when you—?”
“Yes,” Sol says immediately, but Kent is staring at him now instead of through him, his eye widening in alarm, and while Sol watches Kent drops the hand he’s had pressed against his face and reaches out toward Sol and—pushes the collar of Sol’s hoodie open, his fingers brushing lightly where their shared mark sits above the collar of his undershirt—the mark they’ve both had since birth, Pax’s mark.
It’s a stylized image of an eye, with a sharp slash down the middle of it.
“Phone,” Kent says, and his eyes dart back up to Sol’s face, all trace of panic gone, replaced with a firm mouth and blazing eyes; Sol’s heart seizes painfully in his chest because it’s a very Pax expression. “Ping their phone. Even if they don’t have it with them it’s a start.” And then he’s on his feet, shrugging into the coat he’s been borrowing from Sol. “I’m gonna start asking the neighbors if one of them will let us use their car.”
“You what?” Sol says, scrambling to his feet. He’s lived in this apartment for three years, during which time he’s cultivated what he considers a very healthy don’t-tell-the-landlord-about-the-extra-people-living-in-my-apartment-and-I-won’t-tell-him-about-the-impenetrable-weed-fog-from-yours-Dave-from-317 relationship. He certainly doesn’t know any of them well enough to say “hey, yeah, sorry, another soulmate bleeding to death, can I borrow your car.”
“They like me. I watch General Hospital with Miriam in 309 when you’re at work. Ping their phone.”
And Kent whirls out of Sol’s apartment like he isn’t hiding from the cops. “What the fuck,” Sol mutters to himself.
Then he sees where the icon for Pax’s phone is. His second “what the fuck” is a lot louder.
----
Pax’s arm is shaking badly from the effort of pressing it against their eye, trying to stop the blood, and it still isn’t working, is still gushing between their fingers and running down their face. They barely feel the second hit, when the knife slides between their ribs, and then they dive for the gun, falling over and sliding in their own blood, and spin around, not trying to get up, and pull the trigger three times.
The dry click of the empty chamber is the loudest sound they’ve ever heard.
The security guard pulled to a stop when they pointed the gun, and now he grins and takes a step closer, so Pax whips the gun end over end at his head as hard as they can, and then they follow it, throwing themself at the arm holding the knife. They gun hits the guard’s forehead, hard, rocking him back, and Pax gets a good (blood-slick) grip on his arm, but they have to take their hand off their eye in the interest of getting ahold of the knife, and now the blood is fairly pouring down their face and hot and sticky down their neck and soaking into the collar of their shirt. The guard’s arm swings behind him with the force of their momentum and when he doesn’t immediately drop the knife they think fuck it and turn their head, open their mouth, and sink their teeth into his bicep, hard. The guard howls and his hand loosens around the knife enough that Pax can wrap their bloody fingers around the handle, they’re pulling it from his hand with a surge of desperate triumph and then the guard makes a fist with his other arm and slams it full force against Pax’s ruined right eye.
Pax screams. (A hundred miles away, Sol almost swerves off the road.)
They don’t lose their hold of the knife, but suddenly they’re on their back and the guard is standing above them, panting, clutching his arm below the shoulder where Pax bit him. His knuckles are dripping with Pax’s blood.
The door of the lab they’ve been fighting over slides open and Vic Michaelis is standing in the doorway. Pax feels the eye they still have well up immediately even though Vic isn’t a fighter, because Vic is a grown up and he’ll know what to do.
Vic looks at them on the floor, looks at the gun--the gun Vic gave them, which was empty, why would--that’s a big mistake to make if he knew there was security here, how could he even have--
“You idiot,” Vic says. “What the fuck is this?” He stomps into the room, headed straight for the guard, who—isn’t attacking. “What part of ‘no serioius damage’ was unclear to you?”
Pax stares up at Vic. Blood is pouring down their face but they can’t move, they are frozen completely solid.
“Oh, fuck you, man,” the guard says, annoyed. “Asshole fucking bit me. You didn’t pay me to catch a fucking weasel.”
This—isn’t happening. It isn’t—they—no. Pax scoots back, away from Vic and the guard, who are now standing next to each other, and not fighting, and both looking down at where they are sprawled on the floor. Vic’s face is—irritated, harried, and nothing deeper than that.
“Ugh,” Vic says, wrinkling his nose down at Pax. “Christ. What a mess.”
Pax stares at Vic. Thinks of his stillness while he listened to them tell him they were leaving and not coming back. Thinks of the way his face went blank before he smiled and told them he was happy. Thinks of the things in his lab, and how Pax decided years ago to pretend they didn’t know, and how they told themselves it was because they loved him, and how really it was because they were afraid.
Vic turns to the guard, maybe to give him instructions. The guard glares at him. Neither of them are looking at Pax, and the blood-covered knife is still in their hand.
There’s a part of them—the part made of wounded pride and hurt feelings, that thinks being known as a gullible child is worse than being dead—that would like to throw themselves at Vic Michaelis, bowl him over, stay until one of them is dead and either way they aren’t stuck as some dumbass easy-to-fuck-over sugar baby, and six months ago when there was nothing to lose except their pride they would have listened.
But they’ve got more to lose, now, and they can’t hurt themselves without also hurting other, better, more important people.
They throw the knife instead.
It spins end over end and buries itself in Vic’s sternum. It’s not a great wound, not lethal or even that inconvenient, probably, but it does buy them enough time to shoot to their feet and sprint for the door of the lab.
With their back turned they don’t know who fires the shot that clips their shoulder on the way out. But they’re pretty sure the guard didn’t have a gun.
In a different world, when Pax Field makes it out of the lab and into the surrounding woods and collapses against a tree to pant and press their hand over their eye and sob, as quietly as they can, sinking to the forest floor and shaking with the force of it, they are utterly, entirely alone. They cry for twenty minutes at the most and then they drag themselves up and stumble four miles to a payphone and call 911. It is the most alone they ever feel in a life characterized, at least at the start, entirely by loneliness.
In this world love is written across their chest and around their wrists in bold colors, and they curl up at the base of the tree and press their forehead into their knees and their hand over their ruined eye and think, as hard and as loud as they can, come find me. Come find me. Come find me.
---
The last thirty miles of the drive upstate hurtle by in tense silence. Sol grips the wheel at perfect ten-and-two with white knuckles; Kent doesn’t have a wheel to grip so he leans forward with his hands against the dashboard instead. The car belongs to Dave from 317, whose soulmark is on the back of his knee, gray as smoke, and who didn’t even wait for Kent to finish his plea before he handed the keys over.
There will be time for Sol to rethink his impressions of his neighbors later, maybe. Like there will be time to wonder what the fuck Pax’s phone is doing at his father’s house. Sometime after they get there and he stops his soulmate from dying, again.
When they’re still more than ten miles away from the house where Sol grew up, where Pax’s fucking sugar daddy apparently lives, which is math Sol is desperately keeping his brain from doing because there will be plenty of time to throw up after Pax isn’t dying, Kent suddenly lurches forward, hand shooting out to grip Sol’s shoulder almost painfully, and yells “Wait!”
Sol slams on the brakes without even consciously deciding to, and stares at Kent, almost panting.
“Turn here,” Kent says, indicating a tiny little turnoff half hidden in overgrown bushes and weeds.
“What?” Sol says, squinting into the darkness. “There’s nothing here, their phone—”
“It’s this way,” Kent says, leaning forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the darkness of that little trail like he can see into it. His hand is still on Sol’s shoulder, though he isn’t squeezing anymore; it seems more like he’s forgotten it’s there.
“Fuck,” Sol says, “fine, okay,” and he turns off the road, and then feels a hot line of pain rip through the top of Pax’s shoulder; the car fishtails badly and he only just manages to hit the brake again before it goes plows into a line of trees.
Sol hunches over the wheel, gasping. Kent’s hand is in a fist on Sol’s shoulder again, holding a handful of Sol’s hoodie like it’s a lifeline.
“Fucking drive,” Kent wails, and Sol wrestles the car back onto the little half-overgrown road and hits the gas hard.
Halfway down the road Kent flaps his hand, hitting Sol’s shoulder repeatedly like a little kid trying to get their parents’ attention. “Stop the car stop the car stop the car—”
And when Sol does Kent throws his door open almost before they’ve come to a stop and throws himself out into the dark woods.
“Fuck!” Sol yells, and stumbles out after him.
The moon is out, and this far from the city the stars are bright on Kent’s hair, and Sol thinks if Kent weren’t blonde he’d have lost him a dozen times over by now. The trees fly by; Kent’s hurtles through them at a dead sprint and Sol has to push himself hard to keep up, with no idea where there going, just trusting that Kent knows, and trusting Pax to hold together till they get there, and trusting himself to be any help at all when they do. Branches scratch at his face and grab at his jeans and his hoodie and he barely feels them at all, all his focus on the uneven ground under his feet and the blonde head bobbing along in front of him.
Kent stops so abruptly that Sol has to grab a passing tree to keep from tumbling right into him, and then he makes a horrible sound—a sharp cry that sounds like it’s been torn out of him—and stumbles forward again, falling to his knees in front of a dark shape that Sol can’t really see in the darkness.
Then the sky clears even more or Sol’s eyes adjust or soul magic intervenes because he can see that the shape is a person with a mess of pink hair, curled up at the base of a tree with their knees drawn up to their chest and their head bowed.
Then they look up and Sol draws back so fast he slips on the muddy ground and lands hard on his ass.
“Shit,” Kent says, his hands hovering over Pax’s blood-matted hair, the gory ruin of the right half of their face, their torn-open shoulder, like he wants to pull them close but is afraid to touch them. Sol scrambles towards them on his hands and knees to see better—their face is the hardest to look away from, the hand pressed over their eye is more red than brown, the blood running in half-dried rivulets down their arm; their black turtleneck is stiff and shiny with it.
Pax looks at them, sees them, incredibly; raises the hand not pressed to their face to grab a fistful of Kent’s shirt, and gurgles, “You came,” in a terrible wet voice.
Kent turns back to Sol, his face set and determined again. “We’ve got to get them to the car.”
Sol stares at him, feeling like a kid, feeling scared stupid. Then he muscles the fear down, swallows it and doesn’t let himself gag, squares his shoulders. “You can’t lift for shit,” he says, scooting closer. “I’ve got them.”
Pax hears him say it, and seems to sigh out all the tension that’s been keeping them upright, and immediately sags sideways; Sol catches them, exchanges a frightened look with Kent, and gathers them in, more carefully than he’s ever done anything. Pax is taller than he is, there’s no non-awkward way to do it, and he ends up lifting them onto his hip like a huge blood-covered baby, their long muscly legs wrapped around his waist, and Pax clings to him tightly, crossing their feet together behind his back and using the hand that isn’t holding their eye in their head to grab onto the back of Sol’s shirt and hold on, two-hundred pounds of dense muscle; and their shoulder-wound is easy to forget about in comparison to their face but Sol can immediately feel blood from it soaking into his hoodie and the adrenaline keeps him going, while Kent clears the way in front of him at a tense jog, warning him of roots he can’t see and sweeping branches out of his way.
They’ll have to pay Dave to get his car cleaned, Sol thinks, when he lowers Pax into the backseat. Kent climbs in with them and Pax leans against him, and then huffs out a shaky breath and climbs over into his lap, burying their face in his shoulder. Kent goes tense as a wire—presumably at the terrifying volume of tacky half-dry blood involved—and then visibly makes himself relax, digs in his pocket and tosses his phone towards where Sol is hovering just outside the car.
“Search for the nearest hospital,” he says tersely, and Sol is halfway through typing it in when Pax’s voice drifts outs, muffled by Kent’s shirt.
“…can’t go… hospital,” they mutter.
Sol stares at them. “You what?” he snaps.
Pax lifts their head to frown at Kent. Their hand is still pressed over their eye; their nose and Kent’s are almost touching. “We fucking. Kidnapped you. They’ll catch you. We can’t go to a hospital.”
Kent stares at Pax, somewhere between horrified and furious. “You—who cares? Pax, you’re fucking bleeding to death!”
Pax frowns. It’s a small car and there really isn’t room for them to sit up while they’re on Kent’s lap; they lean back against the front seatback, their knees braced on either side of Kent’s thighs. “So were you,” they say nonsensically, sounding almost defensive.
Sol can just barely see Kent’s embarrassed flush in the moonlight, and he turns his head away, so he’s not looking at Sol or Pax. “Yeah, and you made me go to the hospital,” he snaps.
Pax plucks at Kent’s shirt, the visible less-bloody half of their face softening, until Kent looks back at them.
“They’ll catch you,” Pax says softly, their visible eye big and sad while the other side of their face is utterly covered in blood.
Kent stares at them, still with that defensive-furious-alarmed look on his face.
“Clinic,” Sol says, almost to himself, and then grabs Kent’s sleeve in one hand and Pax’s in the other so they both turn to look at him, Pax rather unsteadily. “We passed a clinic on the way here.”
Kent’s frown deepens. “A local clinic won’t have the resources for—”
“And in the middle of the night a local clinic’ll have a much smaller staff for us to threaten or bribe if that’s what we have to do,” Sol says, trying to sound absolutely certain. He looks at Pax, who’s breathing hard but now almost smiling at him, and then at Kent, who very much isn’t.
“There’s still three of us,” Sol says to him, and Kent blinks, hard, like he wants to drop his gaze but can’t. “They’re not taking you away from me any more than they’re taking Pax.”
Pax sags sideways, halfway out of the car, until Sol catches them, which was apparently their intention; they bonk their head lightly against his shoulder. “Good. Good boy, Sol. Thanks.”
Sol shakes his head, loving them so much his stomach hurts, and pushes them back upright. “Okay, idiot. Then when we get you sewn back together you can explain why you didn’t tell me you were fucking my dad.”
“What,” says Kent. Pax sighs, and leans forward to hide their face in Kent’s shoulder again.
“Your dad’s an asshole,” they say, which is the opposite of the denial Sol was hoping for.
But there will be time to unpack that horrible mess later. Plenty of time, because none of them are going to die.
Sol climbs into the front seat of the borrowed car and guns the engine. He’s pretty sure he can remember the way back to the clinic whose sign they passed on the way here. And after that he’s pretty sure he can make them save Pax whether they want to or not. That’s about as far into the future as Sol can even try to see. But there’s still three of them, and really he doesn’t need anything more than that.
#soulmate au#cafe extras#whump#original whump#eye horror#betrayal#rescue#polyamorous soulmates#oc: pax#oc: kent#oc: sol#eye trauma tw#gore tw
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Archangel--Chapter 5: the Seza Situation
Format: Prose / Fiction, multi-entry
Part in Series: 6 of 9 (Previous Chapter | First Chapter)
Word Count: c. 4,300
Summary: Krueger makes peace with a few of his demons while he and Khai deal with the fallout of the events at Orham’s cabin; other parties hatch a plot against the duo.
Northern Africa, circa 2005.
The six of them sat in the back of the five-ton cargo transport as it crossed the ragged desert terrain below them. One of them, about ten years younger than everyone else there, jiggled her knee as she held her clasped hands together atop her lap.
Another one—a large barrel-chested man with broad shoulders, tan skin, a shaven head, and bushy beard—looked over at her. “You nervous, Seza?” He leaned forward in his seat. “You look nervous.”
“She looks better than you, Brock,” uttered the third one among them. This one—Wyatt—wore a baseball cap to cover his brown hair. He was a fair-skinned man with green eyes and a trimmed goatee that covered his upper lip and chin. He leered at Brock. “How is it possible that you gained weight since the last time I saw you?”
Brock smiled and patted his belly. “It’s all the home cooking,” he jested.
The fourth person, Alicia, rolled her brown eyes. “Brock Singer, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. She had light brown skin, delicate features, and black hair tied in a ponytail passed over the band of a tan snapback cap. “Two-hundred-plus pounds of beer and muscle.”
Brock chuckled. “The ladies love it, Alicia.”
The fifth one in the back of the transport—Jackson—added his input. “Well we have two with us, you’re welcome to ask their opinion.” He had fair skin, dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and messy stubble.
“I wouldn’t,” Wyatt noted. He nodded in Seza’s direction. “This one looks like she’s ready to squeeze the life out of the next thing that touches her.”
Seza perked up when she met his eyes. “No,” she stammered. “It’s just—”
“First job jitters? Trust me, mate, we’ve all been there. But this is a protection job, nothing safer to start cutting your teeth on, I say.”
“Don’t you lie to the poor girl, Wyatt,” Brock said.
“I’m not.” He looked over to the corner at the sixth man in their party. “Oi, Archangel..! How many protection jobs have you worked in your day?”
The leader of the bunch—Archangel, known to a handful of people across the globe as Milo Krueger—leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed and stared straight ahead. “Enough,” he said. A tan shemagh rested on his neck and shoulders atop a pale t-shirt.
“Yeah, and how many of them went sideways?”
“Enough.” He quickly glanced over his gear.
At this, Seza retreated back into herself. For all her prior training and preparation, she never actually partook in battle.
Wyatt noticed it. “Don’t let it scare you,” he advised. “Just stay by him, if it all goes FUBAR he’ll pull you out of the fire.”
Seza looked back at him, incredulous.
“He pulled my arse out at least twice… And Brock’s. And Jackson’s, and Alicia’s.” Wyatt leaned back in his seat. “Trust me, you’re in good hands with him.”
Seza looked down at the floor, and then at Krueger. She could see it in the way he carried himself—an undeniable sureness of who he was and what he was capable of. She could tell he earned the respect and admiration of everyone else in the truck with her.
She took a breath and tried to relax as the vehicle came to a stop and the rear gate opened. When Krueger stepped out to assist in unloading the cases of weapons, she took her spot a few meters from him, not just to survey the others, but to keep an eye on him particularly. Seza knew if she was going to make it in this line of work, her start would have to be with him.
Rego Park, six miles southeast of Manhattan, present day.
Krueger held one hand against the shower wall as he let the water hit the back of his neck and run down all of his his five feet and ten inches. He reflected on the day’s events—the meticulous planning that didn’t matter once the others showed up, the return of a ghost he previously thought dead for eight years, the fact that he failed his mission.
None of it ate at the corners of his mind as much as what she said to him. Seza wouldn’t tell him who hired her to kill Miles Orham, or why. He had taken too many kill orders from too many people to believe that Seza’s presence there coincided with his own by accident. Whoever sent her knew he and Khai would be there too, and probably knew what they were there for. Besides himself, there were only two other people in the room yesterday morning in a position to leak any details. And he didn’t like the possibility of having to kill either or both of them.
He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower to dry himself off. He winced a little as he passed the towel over his left shoulder, and the dull pulsing pain radiating from a circular bruise on his upper right chest reminded him of the bullets he took in Hoboken just two days ago. He looked deep in the empty eye sockets of the grinning skull tattooed under the bruise, and then lowered the towel to study the marks on his left arm and shoulder. Now, perhaps more than ever before, they were haunting reminders both of Seza and of his failures.
~~~~
Krueger dressed himself in a pale gray A-shirt and dark loose-fitting track pants, then sat down in his kitchenette to eat his dinner of lean beef and grilled vegetables, keeping his P30L within reach. He was just about halfway done when his doorbell rang. Slowly, methodically, he stood up from his chair and approached the door, keeping his handgun pointed towards it the whole time. He placed the muzzle on the door as he looked through the peephole at the woman on the other side. He considered walking away from the door for a moment before he lowered his gun and cracked it open, holding the gun in his hand behind his back.
Khai stood before his doorway, wrapped in a double-breasted pea coat and scarf. Under it she had the same pants and boots from this morning. She greeted him with a wave and nervous chuckle before putting her hand back into her coat pocket. “So, I ran your license plate number and got your home address,” she confessed. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not,” Krueger said.
“Then why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?”
“Probably for the reason you figured I might. There are only two other people who knew where we would be this morning, and they may have tried to use that opportunity to have me killed.”
Khai averted his gaze and nodded, understanding his suspicion but still hurt by the insinuation. “Will you at least let me in so I can come clean properly?” she asked, looking back at him.
“On one condition,” Krueger articulated. “I’m going to ask you simple questions, to which I want simple answers.”
“Of course.”
Krueger stepped back to open the door fully and let Khai in, keeping his place behind it. She took a few brisk steps to cross the threshold and waited for him on the other side while he peeked over the door to scan the street quickly before closing it. He let his hand hang by his side, allowing her to see the P30L he still held.
She took solace in the fact that his finger was away from the trigger. For the moment, at least, he hadn’t intended to shoot her. “That smells incredible,” she said, noting his dinner. “What is it?”
“I based it on a Mediterranean recipe I picked up working in the region.” Krueger stepped away from the door toward her, gesturing the seating area to her left with the gun in his hand. “Please have a seat.”
Khai complied, placing herself on a large couch int which she sank. She crossed her feet at the ankles and placed her hands into her lap, palms down.
Krueger took a seat in an upholstered armchair across from her. A glass-topped coffee table separated them. He leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hands hang between them. “Are you armed?” he finally asked.
Khai shook her head. “No, I’m not carrying,” she said. “There’s a Glock 19 in my glove box, but that hardly matters right now.”
“Did you think about carrying it with you inside?”
“Briefly, but it wouldn’t do much to repair our relationship if I had.”
“No, I suppose it wouldn’t have…” Krueger straightened his posture, pulling his elbows back to rest on the arms of the chair. “Did you order Seza to murder Orham?”
“No,” Khai affirmed.
Krueger paid close attention to her. She was rock-steady; she didn’t fidget or move in her seat before or after answering, and her pitch and tone of voice remained where it had been since he first started questioning her. Khai, he was relieved to find out, was telling the truth. “Then why did you say you wanted to come clean, earlier?”
At this, Khai broke eye contact and wringed her hands. “Because I owe you an explanation, and an apology for not coming forward with this sooner.” She tucked her hair back behind her ear before continuing, placing her hands in her lap again. “I don’t work for Simon Wells,” she admitted. “I never worked for him or his father William. I report to people higher in the organization than them.”
“The actual Managing Partners,” Krueger surmised.
Khai nodded, confirming his theory. “There are five of them, each presiding over a piece of the United States,” she explained. “Remember Charles Silvio, CJ’s father? He’s in charge of the Southeast Region. There’s also Karin Marlow in the Southwest, Herman Gallagher in the Northwest, and Dana Frazer in the Central region. I report to Isaac Hayden, the Northeast Region’s controller and Simon Wells’ boss.”
“I see,” Krueger said. “So Isaac Hayden installed you at the Branch in oh-six to get it back in working order.”
“It wasn’t Hayden at the time, but yes, the region’s head gave me the order. And when Simon inherited the Branch after William’s death I was tasked with transitioning him into the position. During that time Hayden was promoted and found that the Branch ran wonderfully with me as its co-pilot, so he had me stay there. Either that, or he didn’t trust Simon to run it without me,” she mused, smiling to herself.
“I’m inclined to agree with that theory,” Krueger said with a half-smile of his own. His expression flattened again. “Why did you keep this from me?” he asked.
Khai looked away from him and shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think we would be working together long enough for it to matter… and since we ended up staying together I was afraid if I shared it with you then, you would think less of me for not being open with you about it sooner.” She reclaimed his green and blue eyes. “I know it’s silly.”
“Not really,” Krueger said. “Truth be told I would have thought the same, were I in your position. It’s rare for people in my line of work stay with an employer long enough for such details to emerge, rarer still for them to care about such things.”
Khai let out a quiet sigh of relief and grinned. “Guess that means there really is only one of you, huh?” She crossed her legs and leaned back in the couch a little.
Krueger, happy to see her relaxed again, smirked too. “I did tell you, didn’t I?”
“You did,” Khai chuckled. She sat there for a little, looking at him and admiring how he filled the sleeveless shirt he wore, studying both the tattoos she could see and the one tucked mostly out of sight. Though she read about them in his dossier, she had never actually seen them with her own eyes. They raised questions, and one in particular that rose above the others. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course you may.”
She took a breath, choosing her next words carefully. “Who is Seza to you, really?”
Krueger broke eye contact while he organized his thoughts. “Seza is many things to me,”he began. “A student, a partner, my sister-in-arms... a lover.” He set his P30L down on the table top and looked at her again, clasping his hands together. “She is both my greatest success and harshest failure,” he continued. “I first met her in 2005, when she joined as the sixth and final member of my squad of private contractors. There was Brock, Jackson, Alicia, Wyatt, myself, and her. We were Amur Company, a band of apex predators greater than the sum of its parts.” He gestured his left arm and shoulder. “We each got these tattoos, the tiger’s stripes that set us apart from the rest.”
Amur, Khai understood. As in the Siberian tiger.
“We were the best at what we did,” he continued, “but she was something entirely different. Dangerous in a way none of us were. I paid special attention to her. Trained her, taught her everything I knew in an effort to stop her from becoming something terrible. But it seems that in so doing,” he lamented, “I created a monster.”
“At the cabin,” Khai noted, “you said she outgrew you.”
“I meant it,” he said. “She’s a chameleon; can hide in plain sight anywhere in the world. She’s fluent in seven languages, can infiltrate, impersonate… she can be a barista at your local Starbucks, a fitness instructor at the gym around the block, an art gallery director, anything; you’d never see her coming.”
“You almost sound proud of her.”
“In a way I am, but in another I feel sorry for her. She never shared much of her early life, but I knew there was a deep pain behind her eyes. I hoped to help her turn it into something better, but all I did was give her a set of tools to spread that pain.” Krueger shrugged. “I guess I should have foreseen that; altruism isn’t a lucrative trait for a soldier of fortune.”
Khai leaned in a little closer to him. “What happened between you two?”
Krueger looked away from her for a moment, then back at her. “My group was out of work for months when I agreed to what would become our final job, near the Laos-Cambodia border,” he said.
“The one you mentioned this morning.”
“That’s the one. After days of failed attempts of dragging them out of the forests we were given an ultimatum, put the resistance down or forego the pay. I had to take care of my people, so I took… steps.”
“Steps?”
“White phosphorous munitions,” he said. “Incendiary devices, the nasty kind.”
Khai knew what he was avoiding saying. “…you burned the forest down.”
“It worked,” Krueger said. “The resistance was routed, but it left a bad feeling in my gut. So I left, didn’t even wait to get paid. The others who stayed ended up dead, murdered in their sleep by the warlord’s militia.”
“Except for Seza,” she correctly deduced.
“She contacted me shortly after the others were killed. Told me she’d escaped and wanted to avenge them with me. I told her to walk away, but she didn’t. She called me a deserter and a coward, said she’d do herself what I was too weak to do. And I didn’t hear from her again—until this morning I thought she was dead.” Krueger tapped the tattoo under his shirt. “That’s why I got this… Have I ever told you what it is?”
“It’s a Jolly Roger, isn’t it?”
Krueger took a breath, pulling at his shirt strap to show more of it to her. “My great-uncle, he wore a sigil like this on his collar. From 1939 to 1943.”
Khai recalled that chapter in history. “He was SS,” she deduced.
Krueger nodded. “Totenkopfverbände,” he elaborated. “In charge of a death camp in Poland. I grew up hearing my father tell me about the letters he sent him, how he expressed his deep regret for carrying out his orders. He was a good man, forced to do evil.” He straightened back up. “And that’s what this is, a reminder of when I did something terrible for someone else’s benefit. A reminder of what never to do again.”
Until now, Khai had never heard him talk so much about himself or his past. She had been curious for a while, and now that she knew she pitied him for enduring so much pain throughout his life. She appreciated his relationship with Seza a little more now, and understood both his obligation to steer her on a different path than him, and his disappointment in her choice to keep doing as she had. “That couldn’t have been easy to talk about,” she finally said, cursing the distance between them. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
Krueger leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “Trust is a two-way street, Miss Khai. You reassured me I can put my faith in you, and I felt I had to reciprocate.”
He said it. She could rest easy again. “And I’m grateful that you have. Thank you, again, Milo.”
Krueger offered her a nod. “You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”
They shared a moment of mutual understanding and newfound respect, neither daring to break the perfect silence between them.
Khai’s groaning stomach killed the mood. “Oh!” she said through an embarrassed laugh. “Excuse me, I’ve been so wrapped up in everything today I forgot to eat..!”
Krueger looked over at his dinner plate, and the stove top. “Well, I did cook enough for two meals. You’re welcome to stay and eat something before you go—”
“Oh, no,” she said, standing up again. “I wouldn’t dare impose.”
“Nonsense,” Krueger added, standing up as well. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. Besides, it’ll be too late by the time you get home to do anything about dinner. So please, stay, make yourself comfortable. Let me take your coat.”
Khai couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Well,” she chuckled, “how am I supposed to say ‘no’ now that you asked so nicely?” She unbuttoned her coat and unwrapped her scarf.
“You don’t,” he jested, taking her outerwear. Underneath she wore a form-fitting navy blue long-sleeve cotton shirt. “Have a seat at the table, I’ll be right with you.” He moved to a coat rack by the front door to hang her outerwear.
“Sure thing.” Khai walked past the seating area to the dining area across from the kitchenette and took a seat at a small square table. “You have to tell me where you got those couches,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I sat on something so comfortable.”
“I ordered them from Amelia’s,” he said, trotting over to the kitchenette to prepare a plate for her. “You know, the furniture store next to Everett’s boutique shop?”
“I have walked by there a few times, yeah. I’ve never actually taken a look inside, though.”
Krueger retrieved a square plate from the cabinet and set a portion of beef and vegetables onto it. “Remind me to give you her number sometime,” he said. “Tell her you’re a friend of Sebastian’s and she’ll take care of you.” He set the plate down in front of her with a knife, fork, napkin, and a bottle of water. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any wine to offer you.”
“This is plenty,” she said with a smile. “Thank you so much. Really, you’re a life-saver.”
“So I’ve been told,” he chuckled, taking a seat across from her at his own half-finished plate.
“Hang on,” she laughed, “is that where ‘Archangel’ comes from?”
“Oh, that?” Krueger chuckled. “I spent some months working in Mogadishu. The locals called me that—for all of my good deeds, no doubt. I never particularly liked it, but I suppose it stuck.”
“Well I’d say it fits..!” Khai cut a piece off her vegetables and took a bite.
~~
When dinner was over, Krueger walked her back toward the front door. “So what happens now?”
“Now?” Khai looked up at him as she wrapped her scarf around her neck. “I thank you for dinner, bid you good night, and replay this evening in my head on my drive back to Westchester.”
“I meant for the Branch,” Krueger laughed.
“Oh, them… I keep my eyes on Simon, and you stand by for the next assignment.”
“Any idea when that will be?”
“Hayden didn’t give me a timeline yet,” she disclosed. “But if you’re asking when we’ll see each other again, there’s a fantastic restaurant within walking distance of the office. I wouldn’t mind seeing you there for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know my schedule.”
“Do keep me posted.” She stood there for a moment looking up at him. Then, throwing caution to the wind, wrapped her arms around the base of his neck and held a tight, earnest hug which Krueger returned. She untucked her head from the side of his neck to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for dinner,” she said as she released him. “Gute nacht, Milo.”
Krueger watched her slip her coat back on and head for the door. “Gute nacht, mein freund.” He took a moment to watch her walk back to her car through the window, and when he saw her enter and drive away, he turned back toward the kitchen to clean up.
~~~~
Simon Wells rolled his chair away from his desktop computer in his home office late that same night to prepare a nightcap before heading upstairs to bed. The light of the computer monitor had altered his visual acuity in the surrounding darkness; the only way he would see the butler bar at the far end of the office was if he switched a light on.
He reached over to a floor lamp and thumbed the switch, and nearly jumped out of his own skin when he saw her seated by the butler bar, clad in dark tactical pants and an A-shirt.
“Jesus..!” he exclaimed in whispers, careful not to wake the other people in the house, sleeping a floor above him. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack..?”
Seza, seated with crossed legs, swung her airborne foot. “Zero-seven-two-six-one-zero,” she said
“What?”
“The day of your wedding. Cute, but predictable.”
Simon made a mental note to have his home security system fixed. “You disabled the audio chimes, didn’t you?”
“It wasn’t difficult,” she said plainly.
Simon sighed and headed over to where she sat. He scooped up a tumbler and shoveled some ice cubes into it, almost filling the glass with bourbon. He took a gulp from his glass, finishing half of it, and took a seat opposite the specialist. “Why are you even in my house?”
“To learn more about you, Mr. Wells. Tell me,” she mused, “where does your darling wife sleep? Your son? Do they know what you do? Are they listening to us now?”
“Leave them out of this, will you?” Simon took another gulp. “Just tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m here to inform you that Miles Orham has been terminated. Per the kill order you issued.”
“What do you want, a medal? That’s your job.” He stood up with his drink in hand. “Now go away.”
“Another professional was there too,” Seza added.
“Yeah, a guy named Krueger. He’s supposed to be good, but I spared no expense with you.”
“I know he’s good. I got to watch him work up close.”
Simon froze. “And you didn’t kill him?” he snapped.
“No.”
“Why the fuck not??” His yelling was stifled by the hour, and his sleeping family.
“That wasn’t the order,” she commented.
Simon cursed under his breath. He sat back down and placed his glass on the butler bar, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and first finger. “How much do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay, so what do you want?”
“To inform you of your current situation,” she said. “Our business is concluded, but as a professional courtesy I will provide you with a word of warning: Milo Krueger is a very clever, very dangerous man. If he hasn’t yet determined it was you who sent my unit after Orham he will soon. And what do you think he will do when he does? What do you think will happen to your darling wife and son?”
Simon recoiled again at her mention of his family. “Will you kill him, then?”
“I will not,” Seza noted.
“Fine then..! Will you draw him into the open, so I can have one of my guys do it?”
“No. Our business is concluded,” Seza repeated, uncrossing her legs. “I will do nothing else for you.” She stood up and slipped on a waist-length down coat she had hanging over the back of the chair.
Simon threw his hand up to stop her. “Wait, goddammit..!” he pleaded. “Wait.” He took a moment to compose himself again. “If I offered to pay you again to take that job, would you?”
“That depends,” Seza said, sitting back down. “I’ll have to see the offer.”
“Alright,” Simon conceded. “I’ll draw up the contract in the morning.”
“You do that.” Seza stood back up to leave. “My men were talking, you know,” she added. “They’re saying they want another shot at Krueger, after what he did to them in Pennsylvania. You may want to include them in your offer.” Seza moved in total silence to the front door, where she re-engaged the security system and exited the Greenwich home, disappearing into the night.
(Next Chapter | Masterlist)
#fiction#original work#original content#original fiction#prose#creative writing#drama#thriller#crime fiction
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@malignmuffin replied to your post “mala’s OCs pt 1: zetta intro”
I love her. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the concept of exploring anger as a positive emotions, and I love that she experiments on her own soul gem and shit. That is badass as fuck!
oh — it’s less that she’s experimenting with her soul gem, as much as what her magic is capable of. it’s partially inspired by the way different story presents how mami handles magic, and why she’s so phenomenally powerful — she STUDIES it. she keeps binders of notes on magic, witches, and familiars like it’s a school subject. it’s also why she’s so so good at hunting witches and familiars, because she’s very methodical and pays attention to what works and what doesn’t. her magic is constantly evolving and she has a very good understanding of how to use other girls’ powers, too, because of this
the rest of the inspiration just comes from... who zetta is as a person. if presented with magical powers, she would want to understand what, exactly, she’s capable of. she’d want to know how it works, how she can take advantage of it, how she can change things to her liking. ... which... means i need to think of some interesting spins on what her force fields might be able to do. heck
(relatedly, i’m thinking about changing her weapon... idk if commanding floating gears really does it for me now, especially since i’m going more cyberpunk than steampunk with her. it’d be interesting if she doesn’t actually have a weapon, like homura, since her wish was protective in nature. although it’d be a lie to say there wasn’t a deep anger in it, and a desire for payback somewhere in there, but her goal was protection and safety, so it’d track if she only had force fields to work with. which means she’d end up having to pull a mitama or a karin, imbuing objects with magic in order to do any magical damage, which... is also how i assume homura fights using Actual Guns n shit. so i wonder what she’d choose...? hmmm. more things to think about)
as for anger as positive — IT’S SO IMPORTANT. i have some serious struggles with feeling angry because everything treats anger as something poisonous and awful and only causing harm. (and so, i projected that onto riley to tie him to that part of zetta’s themes, lol. poor riley.) but i didn’t want zetta’s anger to be bad. i wanted to have a safe place to explore how anger can be good, and how anger works, since i spent my entire life downplaying and trying to ignore my own. so she’s v v important to me... and i think it’ll also be especially interesting to explore in the setting of puella, where she and other girls have been tricked into a system designed to exploit her desires and her feelings
... another reason why zetta is going to be interesting in a puella setting is that she has some internalized misogyny as a result of dealing with her mom, and i’ve never really had the chance to properly explore or tackle it in her writing yet. (zetta is a RP character, and it just... hasn’t come up in everything that’s happened so far.) so, for once, i’m going to get to force zetta to actually look at it, and pit her against it (her internalized misogyny versus her “us vs them” mentality, because other magical girls will, at least partially, count as an “us”) , and see what she does from there
#malignedmuffin#( mala. )#long post#both zetta and mami were very#well#for lack of a better term#very ravenclaw about the whole magic thing#TUMBLR TRIED TO KEEP ME FROM POSTING THIS
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