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angelmavmurdock · 3 years

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Our Little Secret: Part Two - A.R.

Word count: 2880 Summary: Lenora introduces y/n and Arvin and something seems to spark between the two of them.

Arvin's POV

I got home from work at 4 which was early for working in the mines.

"Afternoon, Earskell." I nodded my head as I walked up the stairs to the porch of the house where Uncle Earskell sat on a rocking chair.

"Afternoon, boy." He nodded to me.

I walked inside and took my jacket and cap off, sitting them on the side table by the door.

"Grandma?" I called through the house.

"Kitchen!" She replied.

I walked through the house and into the kitchen where Grandma was cooking.

"Hey," I kissed her on the cheek.

"You're back early," She smiled.

"Yeah, we got off for the weekend." I said, sitting down at the table.

"That's great. You need your sleep." She stroked my hair.

I smiled weakly, "I know."

Grandma went back to cooking and I looked around with my brows furrowed.

"Where's Lenora?" I asked curiously.

Grandma sighed, "She said she'd be studying after school so I guess she's just caught up. She knows to come home by 5."

I clenched my jaw. I was very protective of Lenora. Probably too protective. I hated the fact that she wasn't home straight after school. She could be getting harassed by those god darn bullies again. The boys in that popular group of school always torment her. She does nothing wrong, Lenora is the kindest and sweetest girl out there, she wouldn't hurt a fly, but that's what those assholes like.

"She should be home straight after school, Grandma." I shook my head.

"She's nearly 18, Arvin, you have to let her become her own woman without you shadowing her."

"She's hardly a woman, Grandma. She's gettin' bullied senseless by those popular boys." I scowled.

The popular group in school never liked people like Lenora who were smart and kind and timid, that's why they prey on her. They never liked me much but after a handful of fist fights, they got the memo to stop. Anyway, I was out of school so it didn't matter.

We heard the front door open and I snapped my head around. Lenora had come in with a huge smile on her face, looking almost flushed with glee as she skipped through the house.

I stood up, "Where the hell have you been?" I asked sternly, looking down at her.

"Woah, Arv, what's wrong?" She asked, her brows furrowed.

"Did those boys hurt you? I'll kill them-"

"No! They didn't!" She smiled, holding my shoulders.

"Then where were you?"

"I met a girl who's new to town and we got to talkin'! Oh she's lovely, we're already close!" She beamed, sitting next to me at the table.

I squinted and joined her, "Who is she?"

"Her name is y/n. She's from New York, can you believe it?! And she lives up-state with her mother - who is from Ohio originally - and her father."

"She lives up-state? And she's friends with you?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Yes, Arvin. She's so nice. You'd expect her to be really mean because she's in the popular group but-"

"Nuh-uh. No way. You are not hanging out with a girl from that group." I pointed at her.

Grandma called uncle Earskell inside and sat our dinner in front of us.

"Why? She's not like the rest of them, Arv. She's really nice and we'll be hanging out a lot more so expect to see her around." She smiled.

I shook my head, "They'll be playing with you, Lenora."

"No they're not! She told me she doesn't even like them! She's just in the group because she was new and everyone was goin' crazy over the fact she was rich and from New York." She took a bite of her food.

"She don't sound like good news to me." I shook my head.

"Arvin, Lenora can be friends with whoever she wants. You should invite her over for dinner." Grandma smiled.

"Oh she'd love that!"

I rolled my eyes and continued eating, a scowl on my face.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It was Wednesday and I was waiting outside of the high school to pick Lenora up. She didn't mention going to see her mother's grave but just in case, I came along. I waited outside, lighting a cigarette as I watched some students flee the grounds before the bell. My elbow rested outside the window, breathing in the smoke then blowing it out and breathing in fresh air.

The bell rang and not even a minute later kids were flowing out the doors. I watched them, trying to spot Lenora and any of the assholes that would follow.

I turned the radio up and kept watch, she was usually one of the first out. I was getting angsty. Where is she?

I nearly got out the car to search for her but I saw her arm in arm with a girl in a cheerleading uniform.

The cheerleader was beautiful. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon and her skin was glowing. The cheerleading uniform was a yellow and blue cropped top, showing her midriff, and a white pleated skirt with white frilly socks and soft shoes. They were walking out together, laughing and Lenora looked really happy. I smiled briefly but I remembered...

That's the popular girl.

"Arvin!" Lenora exclaimed, waving at me.

They jogged over together, looking at me through the car window. The cheerleader seemed shy.

"This is y/n, remember I told you about her?"

I moved my eyes over to her, scanning her body from her shoes to her eyes. She blushed and gulped, looking away.

"Vaguely." I commented, blowing smoke out of my mouth.

"Well, Grandma said it was okay for her to come over for dinner so could you take us back home?" Lenora asked.

I licked my back teeth, looking at Lenora's hopeful face to y/n's awkward one.

I sighed, "Fine."

They squealed with joy and they got in the car; Lenora next to me and y/n in the backseat.

I drove off and we sat in silence, letting the music play through the radio into the car.

"So, y/n, you're here from New York?" I asked, throwing the cigarette butt out the window.

She nodded, "Yeah."

"You live up-state?"

She nodded again, "Yeah."

I looked at her through the rear-view mirror.

"You don't speak much do you?" I asked.

"Depends on who I'm talking to." She retorted.

I bit my tongue and held back a smile. She definitely wasn't the shy girl she seemed to be.

"You're accent is southern, how do you get that from living in the big city?"

"My mother is from Ohio. Not Coal Creek but she lived here her whole childhood so I just inherited her accent." She spoke but didn't look at me.

"But your daddy's from New York?"

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing you were the popular girl back in the city, huh?" I asked, looking at her through the rear view mirror.

She licked her teeth, turning her head and looking back at me.

"Yeah but I don't like it. It just happens." She shrugged.

I nodded slowly, thinking of my next question. I was just trying to catch her out. I needed her to say something nasty so I could tell Lenora never to talk to her again.

"Where about up-state are you?" I finally asked.

"Fernpark House." She said.

"Fernpark House?" I repeated, turning around to look at her in shock.

I didn't realise she was that rich.

"Arvin!" Lenora whisper-shouted at me.

I turned back around and didn't ask any more questions.

Fucking Fernpark House. The biggest house in the whole village, maybe even the whole fucking state.

I drove the girls back to the house and they leapt out the car as soon as I came to a stop.

"Careful, Lenora!" I shouted after her as she and y/n jumped up the stairs.

I shook my head and sighed, turning the car off and getting out. I walked up the stairs and nodded to Uncle Earskell again.

"Hey boy, who's that girl?" Earskell asked.

I sighed, leaning against the wooden pillar at the top of the porch stairs and bringing another cigarette out. I cupped my hand over it and lit the end, inhaling then exhaling.

"Lenora's new friend, y/n."

"y/n? That don't sound like an Ohio name."

"She's new from New York. Popular, rich, city girl. Livin' up state in Fernpark house."

"Fernpark? Damn boy, she's doin' good for herself." He chuckled.

"Yeah well, somethin's off about her. No popular kid's ever wanted to hang out with Lenora. I bet it's a set up." I shook my head, taking another breath of tobacco.

Uncle Earskell shook his head, "Just cause she a cheerleader don't mean nothin'. You gotta stop being so darn protective over Lenora."

"How can I stop when those jocks are after her?" I raised my voice.

I sighed, "Sorry, it's just frustrating I can't do nothin' about it. Now one of them is in our house?"

"That's an innocent girl, Arvin. Not a 6 feet tall hooligan wantin' to harass a young girl. Let it go."

I dropped the cigarette and squashed it with my foot, "Easier said than done."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

We sat down for dinner at the usual time. I sat next to Uncle Earskell while Lenora and y/n sat opposite. They had a whisper fight about who would sit where and I couldn't tell if she didn't want to sit across from me or Earskell but she sat in front of me. I lifted my glass to my lips, watching her over the crystal as she sat down.

She was beautiful and looked innocent. Her skin looked soft and glowing and the smile she seemed to constantly wear was almost infectious...and I'm not a smiler.

Grandma served us food and she sat at the head of the table, next to Uncle Earskell and Lenora.

"Let's pray." She smiled before everyone dipped their head.

"Heavenly father..."

I looked up from my lap like I usually did. I wasn't religious or a prayer so I usually just stared into space. But this time, I had somethin' to look at. I looked up and y/n was sitting opposite me, eyes clearly open but kept lowered to be respectful. I watched her with my head still tilted down, looking at the way her mouth twitched side to side with awkwardness. She must have felt my gaze on her because she looked up and we caught eyes. A small smile lifted my lips and she flashed a genuine smile at me. It was our little secret.

"The power and the glory forever, amen."

We all lifted our heads and dug into the food. Grandma spoke to y/n most of the time and she gleefully complied, chatting away. Grandma clearly already loved her. I seemed to be the only one wary of her antics.

It hit 9 o'clock and I was sitting in the living room listening to the radio, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I heard Lenora's door open and she came out with y/n who still had her uniform on and carried her backpack on one shoulder.

"Thank you so much Mrs Russel for havin' me." She smiled to Grandma as she got up to say goodbye.

"Oh please, call me Emma, and it was no trouble at all, darlin'." Grandma rubbed y/n's back.

"Are your parents outside?" Lenora asked.

"Oh no, they're not collectin' me I'll just be walkin' home." She smiled.

"Nonsense, you are not walkin' alone at this time of night with that outfit on." Grandma said.

I kept my back to everyone, prayin' Grandma didn't call on me.

"Arvin,"

I clenched my eyes shut in annoyance, knowing what she was about to ask.

"Why don't you take y/n home?"

"Oh no please, I don't wanna be no trouble-" y/n began to protest, probably knowing how much I didn't want to.

"No, come on Arvin. He'll take you no problem." Grandma smiled at me.

I sat my glass down and rubbed the cigarette out on the ash tray.

"No problem at all." I said, standing up.

"Great...thank you." She smiled.

While y/n said goodbye to everyone I grabbed my cap and jacket with my keys inside. I opened the door for her and she quietly thanked me on the way out. Lenora stood by the door and waited on us. We got into the car and it was already awkward. I turned the car on and we buckled in, waving to Lenora as I reversed out and drove away.

I turned the radio up once we got on the straight road.

"Pretty woman, walking down the street,"

I heard y/n's soft hum as she listened to the radio. I looked over at her. She had her elbow outside the car and rested her head on her hand, letting the wind fawn over her face. Some of her hairs became loose but she didn't mind. She looked gorgeous.

"Pretty woman, the kind I like to meet,"

"Do you know where you're goin'?" She asked softly, still not looking at me.

"Yeah I know the way." I said.

"No one could look as good as you."

"You like the radio?" I asked, coughing awkwardly.

She nodded with a smile, "I love music."

I smiled slightly, "Me too."

"What's your favourite song?" She asked, turning her head to look at me.

I shrugged, "Don't have one. I just listen to whatever's on the radio."

She moved more so she would be facing me.

"You don't have a favourite song?" She asked, a smile spread across her face.

"No." I smiled briefly at her then focused on the road again.

She paused for a second, looking at me.

"Hmm." She hummed, sitting normally in the seat again.

"Pretty woman, won't you pardon me,"

"Well, this is one of my favourite songs." She said.

I looked over to her, "Yeah? Why?"

"He talks about her nicely." She smiled.

I scoffed, "That's what makes you like a song? If a man talks of a woman nicely?"

"Well yes, it's important that a man talks about a woman nicely. Or else he's just a sick bastard on the highway to hell." She commented.

I scoffed a laugh which turned into a chuckle. She laughed too. Again with that somewhat dark humour you wouldn't expect a girl like her to have.

I turned up on Fernpark drive and kept driving through the wooded area. The road was real smooth, unlike everywhere else in this town. That's when you knew you were well off.

"You can just drop me here-"

"No need, I'll drop you outside your house."

"But my ma and daddy might see you and think-"

She stopped mid-way through her sentence.

I looked over to her. Her mouth was open, not saying anything like she had frozen in time.

"Your ma and daddy might see me and think what?" I prompted.

She was gonna say somethin' about my tatted clothes and my rusty car. Somethin snobby. I had her, finally.

"They might think we've been...you know..." She fiddled with her fingers.

I held back a smirk cause' I knew what she was implying. I just wanted to hear her say it.

"What?" I finally stopped the car outside her house.

"They might think we've been doin' somethin'."

I chuckled lowly, "You're gonna have to be more specific, darlin'."

She gulped and her cheeks flushed pink, "Submarine racin'!" She whispered, grabbing her bag from the floor of the car.

I raised my brows, "Submarine racin'? I doubt it. A pretty, rich girl like you wouldn't date no worker like me that's for sure, never mind submarine racin'."

She tilted her head, "I will date anyone I want to, Arvin. Even some worker like you. As long as a man treats a woman right, then that's all you can ask for ain't it?"

I smiled and nodded, "I guess so."

"But so we're clear; I wouldn't date you because you're Lenora's brother." She said proudly.

"But you find me attractive?" I smirked, licking my lips.

She stuttered, "No. I don't find you attractive, Arvin. And I would never date you, so don't try and put words in my mouth."

I held my hands up, "I wasn't gonna."

"Good."

We sat silently, both thinking about what it would be like to date or even submarine race...

"y/n?! Is that you?!" A woman in a white silk robe shouted by the door.

"Shit. I gotta go, thank you Arvin!" She called, jumping out the car and shutting the door.

She hurried up to her mother at the blue front door and I could hear the distant questions being asked.

"Who is that?" "Lenora's brother?" "He drove you home?" "He polite? He nice?" "Fine."

Her mother waved and I waved back before driving out of the grounds and down the private road until I hit pot-hole city on the ground again.

I kept driving back home, noddin' my head to the music.

"Pretty woman, walkin' down the street..." I sang to myself the whole way home.

Submarine Racing: "Watching the submarine races" is a euphamism for making out (and more) in a car.

{Tags: @notanordinaryprincess95}

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 3 years

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here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

#gus writes #the wilds #the wilds fanfic #goodfoe fanfic #shoni #leatin fanfic #leatin #dot campbell #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #rachel reid #nora reid #martha blackburn #the unsinkable 8 #the unsinkable eight

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

Text

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 1)

It’s here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. The Kansei Reforms is a “series of conservative measures promoted (largely during the Kansei era [1789–1801]) by the Japanese statesman Matsudaira Sadanobu between 1787 and 1793 to restore the sinking financial and moral condition of the Tokugawa government.” (Source: Encyclopedia Britannica)

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“The weather’s good today.”

Kakeru stretched deeply and breathed in the refreshing autumn air. According to the weather report they had heard on the radio before heading out, it was thirteen degrees and humidity was at eighty-three percent. And there was almost no wind—for the middle of October, the weather was relatively easy to run in. It’s fitting for a battle, Kakeru thought.

Next to Kakeru, Jouji was looking at a family with a picnic blanket. Being a Saturday, the park was already filled with people who had come to watch the qualifiers while relaxing and taking a walk.

“It looks like fun. My bladder’s been acting funny for a while now, though.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing comes out even when I go to the toilet.”

Jouji had already gone to the washroom more than ten times since getting up, but it would be pointless even if Kakeru told him not to be nervous. The sound of the taiko drums from each school’s cheerleading squad resounded through the Showa Memorial Park in Tachikawa—it was an unavoidable reminder that the qualifiers would soon begin.

By noon that day, it would be decided whether or not they would be able to participate in the Hakone Ekiden. Unable to find any words that would soothe Jouji’s high-strung nerves, Kakeru only said, “Me too.”

Jouta was sprawled out on top of the grass a little farther away, his eyes tightly closed. His hands, which were resting on his stomach, sometimes twitched, so it didn’t seem like he was sleeping. Even though everyone at Chikusei-sou had woken up before dawn and taken the train for about an hour to get to Showa Memorial Park, Kakeru didn’t feel sleepy; every single corner of his consciousness was clear.

“I’m going to go jogging one more time. What about you, Jouji?”

When Kakeru asked that, Jouji answered, “I’m going to the washroom.” Kakeru parted with Jouji and left the lawn, then started running through the large park.

The runners from the other schools were also concentrating on warming up and familiarizing themselves with the terrain of the park. Every time he caught sight of the blue jerseys of TSU, Kakeru’s heart leapt awkwardly; he didn’t want to run into Sakaki. If his concentration before the race was disturbed, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself after just quarrelling with him this time.

A wave of spectators had already started rushing towards the start point to cheer on their favorite schools and runners. There were cheering squad members dressed in gakuran holding large flags and many musical instruments, and they were having heated arguments with the cheering squads of other schools in order to secure the best possible spot.

He had already warmed up enough. He didn’t feel like he could stay still, but he couldn’t tire himself out before the race, Kakeru told himself. He stopped jogging and returned to the grass near the start point.

The banner made by Yaokatsu and the plasterer had been put up, so Kansei’s camp was easy to identify. The people from the shopping district were sitting on picnic blankets, waiting for the signal gun that would announce the beginning of the qualifiers. The residents of Chikusei-sou had all gathered after having finished their running preparations. Scattered around them at suitable distances were the other schools’ camps, their multicolored banners dyed with the names of their school.

“Our banner is pretty good.”

King, seeing Kakeru, started talking to him immediately. Is it? Kakeru thought, but noticing King’s trembling fingers, he obediently nodded, “Yes.”

“To begin with, Kansei U esteems the spirit of Lord Matsudaira Sadanobu, who carried out the Kansei Reforms (1)…”

Perhaps because he was nervous, King began discharging miscellaneous trivia like a broken tape record at a tourist information desk. Kakeru sat down while making half-hearted interjections—Hanako had prepared blankets and water bottles, so the plastic sheet had become a comfortable space.

“We did a trial run, so I’m sure you all understand what we’re doing, but let’s review today’s strategy,” Kiyose said. Shindou and Musa were staring at the TV crew’s equipment admiringly, but hurriedly went over to Kiyose. Kakeru drew a rough map of the qualifiers’ race course on a whiteboard.

“What’s that, a maze?” Prince’s brows knitted together.

“The course is simple,” Kakeru started explaining the diagram with a hint of objection aimed at Prince. “We start at the JSDF garrison that adjoins the park. We do two laps around the runway and the taxiway. Then, we go out onto the road, go along the street in front of the station, go under the elevated monorail, and then return to the park. We do one lap of the park, and the finish line is next to the grass clearing.”

Kiyose pointed out important points about the course.

“We didn’t do a trial run at the garrison, but just think of the runway and taxiway as a very spacious track. Those two laps are five kilometers. It’s our first time running in this place, and there are no landmarks or signs, so it will probably be hard to grasp the distance. I don’t know how the race will unfold, but don’t get influenced by the runners who are running fast from the starting line; figure out your pacing by yourself. You’ll have done ten kilometers about the time you pass under the monorail. You’ll turn back at the eleven or twelve kilometer point, and you’ll be at fifteen kilometers immediately after you return to the park. There’s a water station, but don’t worry too much if you don’t happen to get any. And then from here, it’ll be a battle of whether or not you have enough strength left. The park has a lot of small ups and downs, but give it one last push and run to the finish line as fast as you can.”

“I have a question.” Musa raised his hand. “In order to pass the qualifiers, what are the times we need to set? I would like to know a rough estimate.”

“I don’t want to tell you too much because I don’t want you to panic, but…” Kiyose hesitated.

“These guys need to panic a bit. If you leave them to their own devices they’ll just crawl the whole way,” Yuki said. “It varies year to year, depending on the weather and the development of the race, but if the ten of us have a combined time in the ten hour and twelve minute range, then we’ll be safe.”

“Hie!” The twins let out strange sounds.

“So, what you’re saying is that it’s twenty kilometers per person and we’re running them in a little over an hour?” Jouta said.

“That’s just over three minutes per kilometer, Nii-chan!” Jouji said.

“And we don’t have intercollegiate points,” Nico-chan supplemented. “If we finish seventh or lower for time, there’s a high chance we’ll suddenly lose because intercollegiate points will get involved. We want to break into the top six, where it’s decided purely using just the total times.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kiyose reassuringly calmed their agitation. “Kakeru and I will make as much time as we can. There’s a lot of participants, so run together at first and maintain your pace. While you’re doing your first lap on the runway, those who don’t have enough energy should be shaken off. Never be tempted by a pace that’s too fast or too slow.”

“Okay,” Jouji responded like a good boy.

“However,” Kiyose added, “if the leading group is too fast I’ll give you a signal, but otherwise you’ll have to keep up with them, or it’ll be hard to pass the qualifiers. If all ten of us don’t get to the finish line with all our strength, then everything will end today!”

Most of them had resolved themselves inwardly, but Prince and King already seemed to be getting cold feet.

“Can we do this?” they muttered to each other. “It seems tough…”

“I have a question too.” The owner of Yaokatsu raised his hand.

“Dad!” Hanako admonished him, but he continued talking without minding her.

“The other universities seem to have more people in uniforms than you do. What’s up with that exactly?”

“Katsu-chan, I was wondering about that too.” The plasterer looked around. “I counted, but there are twelve people wearing uniforms at TSU and NKU. We only have ten people.”

“You noticed something unfortunate, sir.” Kiyose forced a smile. “For the qualifiers, a team can register a maximum of fourteen people as expected participants. Taking into account physical conditions and other things, they whittle it down to twelve people on the day of the race."

Yuki pushed up his glasses and added to his explanation.

"In Hakone, the universities all compete against each other with the combined times of the top ten people among them. That means teams with lots of members have two extra people for insurance.”

As Kansei only had ten runners, if any one of them failed to reach the finish line, their path to Hakone would be severed. Learning once again the weight of the responsibility he was bearing, Prince paled and clutched at his stomach. Conversely, Kakeru’s fighting spirit reached its peak, and he couldn’t wait to start running.

“Let’s do our best.” Jouji said cheerfully, perhaps having given up on his bladder that wouldn’t obey his will. “Today we’re avenging the landlord!”

“He’s not dead,” Kakeru muttered.

It was almost time to assemble at the starting line.

“Let’s go,” Kiyose said readily.

“We’re not going to form a huddle and cheer?” King asked nervously.

“Do you want to do that?”

“No, but…” King mumbled his words. Conscious of the TV cameras, he was fretting about not looking good if they didn’t do something. Kiyose guessed what King was thinking.

“The mountains of Hakone are the steepest in the world!” He said. “Now, let’s go.”

Kiyose, who started walking at once, was as calm as usual. Either dumbfounded or stifling their laughter, the members of Chikusei-sou followed him.

“Go!”

“Win and come back!”

The people of the shopping district saw them off.

“We’ll be waiting for you at the finish line!”

Everyone only waved back at Hanako’s words. Once the runners started moving, the spectators began to make their way across the large park towards the finish line. Hanako and the others carried their bags and made preparations to set up camp in the grass clearing.

“What’s the matter with them? Having those soppy looks on their faces,” Yaokatsu and the plasterer huffed.

There were cheering contests for each school beginning; helicopters circling in the sky; TV cameras set up here and there; bikes keeping pace with the runners while filming them; leading cars with speakers; the noise of the spectators along the course, waiting for the runners to pass by. Experiencing this brilliance and enthusiasm for the first time, Chikusei-sou couldn’t help but shrink back.

“I didn’t know the Hakone Ekiden was this popular already starting from the qualifiers,” Shindou said, moved.

“I went to the washroom with Prince-san just now,” Jouji said. “I was shocked. It was my first time seeing a men’s room with a line for the stalls. The participants were taking turns going number two.”

“I used to have a prejudice against people who did sports.” Prince was still rubbing his stomach. “I thought they were all muscle down to their brains, but it seems that everyone has delicate nerves, surprisingly.”

Jouta had been lying down like a corpse, but incredibly, he was now walking with a bounce in his step. It seemed that he had overcome his nervousness with concentration.

“We’re finally taking our first step towards winning Hakone.”

Winning? Kakeru glanced at Kiyose. Even if they could pass the qualifiers, it would be impossible to win the main race with these members. Kiyose noticed his gaze and silently smiled a little. Don’t say anything that would lower their morale right now, his eyes said.

The participants crowded the start point. They could see the TSU uniforms beyond the wall of people. Kansei would be setting out from the rear.

When you look at it like this…Kakeru thought. Their builds were completely different. The runners in front of him from schools that frequently competed in Hakone had tight and lean figures. However, some of the university students starting from the back had obviously heavy frames and leg muscles that suggested that they hadn’t been running long enough.

But the biggest difference was the expressions on their faces: the runners from schools that were called weak weren’t experienced and looked unsure of themselves before the race. It’s cruel, Kakeru thought. Even though long distance running was a sport where it was relatively feasible to manage somehow with hard work, the cold hard truth was that there were still the physical abilities and constitutions that one was born with. In addition, whether or not the runners could prepare an environment, equipment and coaches that would allow them to devote themselves to the sport depended on the financial power of their school.

Nevertheless, there was no difference in the level of seriousness in aiming for Hakone among the people gathered there. No matter what one’s position or circumstances were, in running, everyone had no choice but to stand at the same starting line. Success or failure were brought forth by one’s own body right at that moment.

That’s why it’s fun as well as painful. And freer than anything else.

Kakeru looked at the members of Chikusei-sou, dressed in their black and silver uniforms; bodies with no extra fat and supple muscles stretched thinly over their frames. They were the bodies of living beings built for running, not inferior to the runners of the regular schools. They were not afraid, and their eyes sparkled with curiosity and fighting spirit.

We can do this, Kakeru thought.

He didn’t think about anything else. Once they started, there was only running. Kakeru fixed his gaze ahead and waited for the departure signal gun.

It was eight-thirty in the morning. The qualifiers began.

Thirty-six schools—four hundred and fifteen runners—started running at once. It was the opening of the battle where the right to participate in the Hakone Ekiden was at stake.

Only nine schools can go to Hakone from here. We’ll definitely be one of them. Kakeru kicked off the ground with all his strength.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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pixelgrotto · 3 years

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Night City, I barely remember ya

I beat Cyberpunk 2077 last month, and honestly, I haven’t thought about Cyberpunk 2077 that much since.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. CD Projekt Red’s follow-up to The Witcher 3 was meant to be the sort of game that would stick in your mind after completion. It was promoted over eight years of hype stemming from its initial 2013 reveal as a example of CD Projekt’s infamous “vodka and Slavic magic” - a behemoth destined to change open world RPGs forever. But in the roughly 12 weeks since its release, the stuff that’s happened to Cyberpunk 2077, including its delisting from the Playstation store for being chock full of bugs and the theft of its source code by hackers, has been more cyberpunk than the actual game.

I was one of those people super hyped for this game when it was first announced. I mean, the Witcher franchise left an indelible impression on me; how could I not be psyched to see its devs tackle one of my favorite sci-fi genres? But my hype deflated over the years, largely due to tales of terrible crunch emerging from CD Projekt’s studios and social media marketing that was ill-advised at best and transphobic at worst. Everything seemed to slowly hint that the game’s vision of “cyberpunk” - a genre that can tell incredible futuristic tales of social upheaval and marginalized peoples - would be mostly style with not so much substance.

Despite me keeping my fingers crossed, the end product is pretty much what I feared - and I guess I should’ve known, since the official sourcebook for Cyberpunk 2020, the tabletop RPG that CD Projekt Red used as inspiration, actually lists “style over substance” as one of its rules.

Cyberpunk 2077’s main story revolves around a merc who dreams of big time heists in Night City named V. After a heist goes south, V ends up absorbing a biochip made by big bad corporation Arasaka that features the captured personality of rockstar-turned-terrorist Johnny Silverhand, played by Keanu Reeves - who, to be fair, does a good job with the material he’s given. Cue a bunch of quests that revolve around V and Johnny coming to terms with each other, taking down Arasaka and figuring out how to separate the chip from V’s brain.

In theory, this sounds like a cool way to explore the very cyberpunk themes of identity and what it means to have a corrupt company preserve a human soul beyond its organic shell. In reality, though, the story’s a surface level examination of these concepts, and Johnny Silverhand remains a massive dick throughout most of the game, only becoming relatable if players give him the benefit of the doubt - which they’re expected to do because he’s played by Keanu Reeves.

Johnny’s animosity towards Arasaka is also never completely outlined. He - and most other characters in Night City - keep telling V that corporations are awful because they disregard human rights and destroy the environment, but we never get many chances to see for ourselves how Arasaka and similar companies, like Militech or Kang Tao, actually do this. Arasaka does kidnap Johnny’s ex-girlfriend and is behind the tech that transfers his soul to a biochip, yes, but Johnny also threatens to destroy them at all of his shows and eventually sets off a bomb in their headquarters. Not that I’m siding with the corporation, but for much of the game we’re expected to treat them as the number one enemy simply because other characters say so, which is very much a “show, don’t tell” missed opportunity. If anything, Arasaka’s portrayal feels more like a vestige of the cyberpunk genre’s unfortunate maturation during the 1980s, where the fear of Japanese conglomerates taking over the world was common and a future where Asian companies were all-powerful instead of Western ones seemed like a dystopia.

Cyberpunk 2077 is very much caught in that yesteryear mold, featuring elements that might have been progressive in the 1980s but seem passé now. For a game that relied on questionable representation of trans people in its marketing, there were no notable trans NPCs that I came across, and even though there’s a robust character creation system where you actually can make a trans person, the game makes the troubling decision to only offer binary pronouns tied to V’s voice. Despite the fact that many of the best modern cyperbunk works deal with body augmentation and the line between man and machine, most of the physical modifications you can pay for at Night City’s “ripperdoc” facilities are niche features that only offer minimal stat boosts, with only two major ones that I know of - the mantis blades and gorilla arms - actually causing extensive changes to V’s looks. And finally, while there are tons of characters of color in the game, ranging from the Haitian Voodoo Boys gang to V’s “friendly ethnic friend™” Jackie Welles, most of them are varying degrees of stereotypical. For instance, Goro Takemura, an ex-Arasaka employee, sends you text messages reminiscent of haiku at one point because he’s Japanese and has to talk like a formal, honorable samurai or something.

If you’re able to look past these issues - along with the myriad of bugs that Cyberpunk 2077 shipped with - there’s still the niggling feeling that this game could have been so much more. The signs of a troubled development process are numerous, and there are Reddit threads packed with still-visible remnants - like useless combat skill perks and an entire metro system - that were part of gameplay elements gutted at some point in order for those overworked CD Projekt Red programmers to make a long-delayed release date. Even mainstay stuff in the open world genre - like the police chases common in the Grand Theft Autos - are absent, and Cyberpunk 2077’s 2018 demo, chock full of promised features that never made it into the final product, has to be one of the most notorious bits of smoke ‘n mirrors “gameplay” in recent memory.

Perhaps most bothersome is the feeling that a lot of your choices don’t seem to matter all that much in Cyberpunk 2077, which once touted itself as “a full-fledged RPG, not a shooter with RPG elements,” but ends up feeling more like the latter than the former. The game’s three different lifepaths - nomad, streetkid and corpo - only amount to about thirty minutes of unique playtime at the start and a few different dialogue options. The vehicle combat sequences that punctuate key missions are largely scripted, looking cool but offering little consequences depending on what V aims at. The side quests I encountered had minimal branching paths, and the only time the main story opened up to offer some real choice was in the game’s final chapter. Considering that CD Projekt once developed The Witcher 2 - a 2011 game that branches dramatically at its halfway mark to the point where a lot of folks insist that you need to play it twice in order to feel satisfied - Cyberpunk 2077 feels like a step back.

And yet, despite all of these criticisms, I still put nearly 80 hours into the game over the course of December, January and February. You don’t do that for something that’s patently unfun, so let me be clear - there is an entertaining experience buried beneath an avalanche of unfulfilled potential here. Driving on my Akira-esque bike through Night City’s slums as the game’s best song bumped on the radio, taking out legions of baddies with my mantis blades and relishing in the game’s extensive photo mode (as you can probably tell by my screenshots above) was a good time. In spite of his assholery, I did feel something akin to attachment for that bastard Johnny Silverhand by the finale, and there were a few key moments - like when I was scuba diving in the ocean with my girlfriend Judy, looking at the remains of a town destroyed by the land seizing machinations of corporations - that felt like this game had something to say beyond “bang bang gunplay and neon aesthetic.”

But at the end of the day, while I do feel moderately interested in someday checking out Cyberpunk Red (the newest iteration of this franchise’s tabletop RPG), CD Projekt’s seven-year-hyped-up behemoth has largely faded from my brain one month after beating it. On Twitter, I’ve seen Cyberpunk 2077 described as something akin to a flashy Netflix series with lots of fanfare and flair but not much else - and I can’t really argue with that statement.

Night City was supposed to be the stuff of a long-term relationship. Instead, it feels more like a fling.

#pixel grotto #now playing #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cd projekt red

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whoknowsbud · 3 years

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Stand Mutation AU DiU

Again, this is FILLED with body horror and somewhat loose connections to the recent epidemic but they are there. There’s also a massive amount of angst around the Nijimuras.

See the first post & explanation here

Morioh is under a sort of quarantine. Due to not being contagious, it may be more of a research center, to keep research subjects in one place. When people start getting infected again (from the arrow, of course) there’s a pretty massive panic, from people assuming the virus must be evolving. So, aside from finding Josuke, the Speedwagon Foundation has Jotaro there to find who’s using the arrow.

Josuke is pretty much Crazy Diamond; his pompadour is basically a massive diamond helmet, with a heart-shaped front, a few thorny details from dad. Skin might be a little shiny, or sparkly.

Okuyasu begins as extremely feral and rather monstrous, but over time becomes more human. His form becomes smoother, until the infection becomes localized on his right arm. He has the common headlight eyes and his normal hair, but with the black mark covering above his eyes & reaching the tip of his nose, in addition to his scar.

Keicho is also fried, and is basically something of a human-transformer mix. Green camouflage body, bandages around his head, gun arm, helicopter blades in his back… Looks a little like something you’d expect to see if the Terminator had real flesh, with additional machine parts..

Koichi gains the common headlight eyes and starts turning green first. Following, not overnight but still fast, comes the beak, tail, and his lower legs become wheels. He does not lose any of his ability or evolve in the same way, but does change. As ‘act 2’, he regrows his legs (the wheels now his feet), his beak becomes more of a reptile snout, and he’s more armored. As ‘act 3’, he’s back to looking more human. The wheels are now just his heels (yes, heelys), and his tail is shorter.

Yukako… maybe fully made of hair? Or just the same as canon...

Tonio can just imbue his food with the sort of healing power. That or he grows the Pearl Jams on his body, which is very disturbing, so we'll probably go with the first. His power is extremely limited with this infection, which upsets him quite a bit. He can strengthen your body and all, but what can it do with stand shit? This isn't the flu.

Rohan’s arms are like heaven's door's hat; just the yellow lines outlining them. Depending on mood, desperation, & writers block, his sketchy-ness spreads more through his body.

Shigekiyo is a bunch of Harvests in a trench coat! Original Shigechi is essentially the ‘queen bee’ so to speak.

Mikitaka is an actual alien (cause fuck you, we do what we want). Planet was probably overrun by the virus, and he left to… either help other planets with it or prevent it or something… That or just. To find somewhere he can live a better life.

Tamami… probably just about the same, but creates locks on himself as well, for each victim currently affected - not because of guilt or anything, just to make sure they’re still in his control should they separate.

Hazamada is pretty much just Surface.

Akira is, basically, a toxtricity (amped, of course.) But yea, basically take RHCP, give it rocking hair and music ability, and there ya go.

Yuya basically sends his own feet, which gains a vague body to go with them.

Kanedaichi is SuperFly. A few bug decals on the tower maybe… He uses radio waves to communicate, and an unsettling doll to make himself known… Tickle me Elmo.

Terunosuke appears to be origami, with his face drawn on. Despite this, he can’t actually change his overall form.

Yoshihiro is probably the same as canon...

Kira’s mutation is much more subtle than most. His skin is pink, he has Killer Queen’s eyes, and very sharp and stiff ears. He hides most of this with makeup, contacts, and clips his own ears, to live under the illusion that he's 'just a normal guy'. When he feels stress, his face starts turning translucent, so you can see his skull - which reveals that his ears are more part of his skeleton. His hands frequently explode, and his sweat is explosive.

Stray Cat is just the same as in canon.

As mentioned earlier, the Nijimura’s story here is (I believe) even more upsetting than it is in canon. Though Angelo doesn’t happen, Josuke’s grandfather is dead.

Keicho finds the arrow, as he did in canon, but nicks himself in the process. He (somehow) hears the Speedwagon Foundation is looking for it and, realizing the arrow played a big part in the infection, panics. This makes his infection, which was already starting to mutate him, go wild. He turns feral in a different way than most; he guards the arrow, obsessing over it - like their dad over that ripped picture. Okuyasu, of course, tries to get through to his brother.

His body isn’t completely developed; the helicopter blades are half-stuck in his body and his gun doesn’t work. So, when Okuyasu tried to reach him, Bad Company only understands that someone is approaching the arrow, and attacks him… With the arrow. Fully aware of what the arrow did to his brother, Okuyasu is at peace with what’s going to happen to him. His only family is like this, and they don’t even remember him… How much worse could losing his own mind be?

The house is said to be haunted, so when Josuke and Koichi pass it, they stop to look. Koichi mentions, now that he understands a little of the infection, that he wonders if the ‘ghosts’ ‘haunting’ it are just more victims. Josuke realizes it's likely, and tells him to call Jotaro and wait outside.

Koichi calls Jotaro and does not wait outside; he goes in after Josuke, gets lost, and ends up finding the room Bad Company is in.

Meanwhile, Josuke’s struggling against Okuyasu, who may or may not be crying. Josuke realizes this guy really is a victim, and thinks he must be able to help. So, when he does take him down, he tries to fix this, only to feel terrible because this is another thing he can’t fix. But he can’t stay, because Koichi screams, so he has to run.

He finds the room, but it’s obvious that whatever attacked Koichi hasn’t left, and he’s worried this’ll go horribly wrong if he runs in, but if he doesn’t, Koichi’s probably going to die. This is when he hears the bass boost ‘bbbvvvrrrrrrrrr’ and he spins, ready to fight, but Okuyasu’s already erasing the space between them and Koichi, and now he’s in range for Josuke to heal him. Josuke’s not sure what’s happening, but it’s obvious Okuyasu isn’t going to attack. So, Josuke’s healing Koichi, and trying to figure this all out, “so do you… have a sibling here?”

He nods, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging for something. Josuke starts thinking aloud, “they must be infected, too… uh, you... want me to fix them?”

He's nodding so vigorously it looks almost painful, and this is when Koichi wakes up, and he shrieks because what the fuck is that. Josuke makes sure he's okay (Koichi's irises are turning bright yellow, but he can't worry about that right now), and has Okuyasu watch Koichi.

Okuyasu is surprised that he's being trusted like this; but Josuke's already ripping the door off the frame, holding it in front of him like both a shield and battering ram, and he's charging in.

Koichi is far, far too tired to move himself, so Okuyasu carries him away from the fight. But Okuyasu starts fidgeting, worried. He's hearing shots, explosions, and yelling, and there's a lot of smoke. Obviously Koichi's worried too, so they kinda sneak back over to get a look, and what koichi sees is... alarming, to say the least.

Uninfected, you don't see the full quality of his skin, and his helmet just looks like a weirdly solid block of hair. But now koichi's getting the whole picture, and… He's gorgeous.

His body is suddenly shining and sparkling from the armor, his skin almost glittery, and the massive diamond form encasing his head reflects light like a goddamn disco ball - it's all almost blinding

Sexuality crisis ahem so anyways

Josuke eventually gets Bad Company down, and he's trying to heal him, but the light suddenly comes on. They all know someone else is here, so Okuyasu - not wanting anything to keep his bro from getting fixed like he was - runs in to intercept the form coming fast, but Keicho's a little faster

But instead of going for the arrow, it's Okuyasu he targets.

Okuyasu and Josuke are alarmed at this; he'd shown that he only cared about the arrow, why do this? Why go after Okuyasu, before he even got the arrow back?

But Keicho's looking at him - even as this electric being's arm goes through his stomach, his eyes are focused on his brother.

"I act on my orders," he says, whereas before the only thing he ever said was "the arrow", "follow orders"... things like that.

Because Bad Company had been ordered to protect the arrow at all costs

But Keicho Nijimura did that to protect his brother

Which clearly worked against him but moving on

Okuyasu makes this cry, this wail, and Koichi can feel the hurt echoing in him and wishes he could've done something as the being takes the arrow into the light

But Josuke realizes there's a fuse box in here, and its being overloaded, and they need to get out right now, so he grabs the two survivors and jumps out the window.

He ends up being hurt pretty bad splinters of wood dig in his calves and his back, but he's gotta make sure these two are ok.

Josukes not sure if that actually helped, because he's crying so so hard now, and the three just sit there for a while

Okuyasu looks at josuke, crying, pleading... Josuke knows what he wants

"I saw it," he chokes out, "you should know.. Ididn't bring him back, I barely reached him… You did."

Jotaro spots the building when the room explodes and comes running, of course relieved to see these kids are sitting outside, safely... Well. Not dead. Josuke asks about Okuyasu.

"Yea that happened to me, he'll be fine. It's pretty common."

Then he sees Koichi's eyes are a little different and just fuckn grabs the kid and stares super close for a few minutes

Irises are yellow, but more important, the whole ball is getting kinda... segmented? Like... there are creases forming. W/e - they're slowly becoming headlights.

It's an uncomfortable minute for these children, until Jotaro lets him go and says (usual deadpan), "you've been infected."

Then jotaro sets him down and says, usual deadpan, "you've been infected." And Josuke freaks out, assuming he was the cause.

So, Jotaro has to explain that - no, the only way to become infected is if you or a (close enough) relative is injured by the stand arrow. Okuyasu jumps on the phrase, practically barking with desperation. Jotaro, having gone through a rather similar stage, figures it out pretty quickly, "you know about it… where is it?"

“Is that what that weird arrow was back there," Josuke wonders around, jumping when Jotaro focused on him, "well, uh… some electric thing took it… after killing this guy's brother."

Jotaro can't really do much with that, so he moves on, "alright, you three get to the Speedwagon building, I'm gonna do a walkthrough."

They agree, but Okuyasu's looking at the house & not moving Josuke & Koichi try to reassure him about keicho, while Jotaro just walks right in to investigate.

After a minute he comes out carrying Weird Frog Dad who's holding the ripped picture, "what is this." Okuyasu makes this "aa!" sound while the other 2 are Shook.

Okuyasu's looking at Josuke, though he's already moving, but Jotaro stops him, "this can't be fixed." Josuke's like "but i gotta try" and does, and newsflash it doesn't work, but he sees the picture and fixes that and at least that's sweet

So, nearly on the opposite side of the emotional spectrum, the next day we see Koichi skating to school. At first he's very weirded out, tries to hide it, but then he realizes "wait. The town's full of infected people, this isn't that bad." His mother and sister, of course, freak out, but Koichi knows enough to explain it all and put them a little at ease.

Also he does not end up with Yukako, they both deserve better. Like, yea she probably still has her obsession, but it gets handled after the first time. It takes a little while for her to adjust to... not.. doing any of that. But they're both way healthier for it. Not cool or healthy to date your fixation or stalker

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notaspywrites · 3 years

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Don’t Tell Me - part one

After a series of suspected terrorist attacks rocks Berlin, Team Black is called in to find the culprits and stop the attacks before they get any worse. However, the enemy is closer than they think and with tensions on the team running higher than ever, it’ll be a race against the clock (and against basic human emotions) to save the day and keep the team intact.

Warnings: mentions of terrorism, depictions of violence, mentions of bombs, explosions, guns, smoking, swearing and descriptions of panic and anxiety attacks.

Word count for part one: 9,966

Author’s note: Hello and welcome! This is my very first time on Tumblr so please bear with me as I figure this out. This is part one of a several part series, so stay tuned for updates! Part two hopefully coming same time next week. Also, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! - not-a-spy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nils Karlessen chewed on his bottom lip, drumming his fingers anxiously on his desk. The line was still dead, five agents all not responding. Behind him, Henry Chalice paced, twisting his hands incessantly. The room wasn’t big enough for him to get more than a few steps before he had to turn around and start again. Nils ignored him, staring at his screens. After the explosion his GPS reading had been scrambled so he had no way of tracking any of them.

“Vicky? Maurice? Come in please.” Nils tried again, struggling to keep his voice even. The radio signals must have been disrupted somehow; they’d be back in a moment.

“Nothing?” Chalice stopped pacing, running his fingers through his dyed grey hair.

“Not yet. Chalice don’t panic, let the dust settle first. They’ll respond in a minute.”

“We should be over there!” Chalice’s voice shook with the emotions he had been trying to control.

“No. We can do more here than we can out there. They’re all trained agents, they know what they’re doing. Just give them a minute.”

“I don’t see how you can be so calm!” Chalice said, passing his hands over his face. He was shaking.

Nils frowned sympathetically, spinning around to face him and wincing as his foot was squished into his desk. He sat up straighter, pushing his headphones off of his ears. “Because I’ve done this before. You can’t always think of the worst case scenario. They’ll be back. Sometimes the radios go down but they’ll be back.”

“Nils! Do you copy?”

As if to prove his point, a faint voice crackled from his headphones. He spun around, whipping them back on as he did so.

“Adalie? Where are you?”

“We’re,” she panted for breath, “we’re on Zimmerstraße, right outside the English school.”

“We? Adalie, who’s we?” Nils asked, holding his palm out to stop Chalice from talking. Chalice wrung his hands desperately.

“Cipriana’s with me. We’re both safe.” Adalie paused again. “She lost her earpiece, that’s why she couldn’t call you.”

“Good. That’s excellent. You girls get back to the cars and head towards base. Have you seen Vicky and the boys?”

“No. No, sorry Nils, we haven’t seen anyone. We’ll see you soon, depending how bad the traffic is.” The headphones went dead again and Nils shoved them off, spinning back around with a grin on his face.

“The girls are okay! They’re headed back to the cars, they’ll probably be here within the hour. But we still haven’t heard from the boys or Vicky.”

Chalice covered his mouth with his hands. He looked as if he was about to throw up. Nils reached out and took his wrist gently.

“I’ll call them again, okay?”

Chalice nodded.

“Maurice, Vicky, come in please. Owens, come in please. If you can hear me, come in please.” Nils paused, waiting for a reply. The silence hovered.

His extension rang and Chalice jumped violently.

“Nils Karlessen, Interpol.” He listened intently, switching to German to reply to the paramedic on the other end. He frowned, then spoke again, his voice hard.

Chalice looked at him, his eyes demanding answers but Nils shook his head. He knew what Chalice wanted to hear.

Nils signed off sharply and then called again. “Maurice, come in.”

“Nils.” The voice was strangled and tense. “Vicky’s hurt. I’ve called for a med team.”

“I know. They just called me. Are you okay?”

“Sure. Vicky’s unconscious, I, I don’t, I don’t know if she’s breathing, Nils, I…”

“Okay, alright, Maurice I’m gonna need you to calm down, okay, take a deep breath and sit down. The med team is on their way, I just need you to hold on until they get there.”

“Vicky’s unconscious, Nils, I…”

“Maurice, I need you to take a deep breath, okay, the med team will be there in a sec. Sit down and take a deep breath before you go into shock, okay. You’ll be fine.”

On the other end of the line, Maurice took a deep shaky breath.

“Hang on Maurice, I’m getting another call. It’s probably the med team. I’m gonna have to put you on hold for a sec but I’ll be right back.” Nils said, his finger hovering over the transfer call button.

“Okay.”

Nils nodded involuntarily and pressed the transfer call button. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the German voice on the other end. He listened intently for a second and nodded again before barking a few quick words and hanging up.

Chalice frowned, moving to perch on the desk next to Nils’ makeshift computer set-up.

“Maurice? The med team is right there, okay, they’ll take care of things from here.”

“Yeah...yeah, I see them. Thanks Nils.”

“No problem buddy, you take care of yourself. One last thing, you haven’t seen Owens, have you?”

“Uhh, no. What about the girls?”

“They’re fine, they’re headed back to base now. Thanks Maurice. We’ll see you later.” Nils signed off, pushing his headphones off of his ears and stared blankly at his screens. Four out of five agents were now all accounted for, but he had received nothing but radio silence from Owens and he was starting to get worried. There was no doubt that he was an excellent agent. If it were anyone else out there on their own, Nils would certainly be in a state of much greater panic, but if Owens had been capable of checking in, he would have.

“Is Maurice alright?” Chalice asked.

“Debatable. He’s shaken, maybe concussed even. Vicky’s unconscious but the med team should be there by now, so hopefully they’re on their way to the hospital. I’ll call in later and make sure she’s okay.” Nils turned to face him as he spoke. He knew exactly what was coming.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Chalice’s voice was controlled and even, but Nils could hear the emotion wavering at the edge of it.

“We don’t know that.”

“That’s not a no.” Chalice said, his voice hard.

“But it’s not a yes either. I have faith in him, Chalice. I’m sure he made it out of there okay.”

“But then why hasn’t he reported in yet?” Chalice demanded, pushing himself off of Nils’ desk and beginning to pace the room again.

“Adalie said that Cipriana had lost her earpiece. Maybe that’s what happened to Owens. It’s entirely possible,” Nils paused to fix his hair and was about to continue when the door to the office was thrown open and a young detective stormed in.

“Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?” His english was heavily accented but clear. Nils glared at him. He continued, “There has been an explosion and countless tourists may be dead. I thought it was your job to stop this.”

“There was no indication that there would be a bombing. Up until today, all these attacks have been shootings, you know that as well as I do.” Nils snapped, any hint of sympathy vanished from his face. “And I’ll have you know that two of my agents are injured and another is missing so if you don’t mind, I’ll do my job and you can go do yours.”

Nils turned abruptly back towards his computer, leaving the detective fuming in the doorway. He stood there for several moments before turning and slamming the door closed behind him.

*****

Owens watched the man standing on the other side of the road.

Something was off about him, something that made it so he didn’t quite blend in with the crush of tourists surrounding him. He was average-looking, average height with blond hair and wearing a grey hoodie, but his movements had a furtive quality that Owens recognized immediately.

That was how you moved when you knew someone was watching you. He tried to look nonchalant, leaning casually back against the wall of the building and pulling out his phone to disguise his earpiece.

“Vicky, I’ve got a suspicious man across the street from me, wearing a grey hoodie and black jeans.”

“Right.” She paused for a second. “Okay I got him. Why’s he suspicious to you?”

“He looks shifty, like he’s afraid of being watched. And he’s got both hands in his pockets, which is never a good sign.”

“Right. Has he seen you?”

“No ma’am. Do you want me to keep an eye on him?” Owens asked, shifting his position against the wall as the man in the hoodie took a few steps down the street.

“Yes, please do. I trust your instinct. Keep me updated Owens.” Vicky signed off and Owens slipped his phone back into his pocket.

The man in the hoodie started to move suddenly, walking with small, quick steps away from the checkpoint down Friedrichstraße. Owens followed, a few steps behind on the opposite side of the road, his eyes fixed on the man’s retreating back.

“Vicky, he’s on the move. He is walking north down Friedrichstraße. I’m going to follow him.”

“Good. Stay safe.”

The man in the hoodie picked up his pace, glancing furtively around him but not seeing Owens on the street behind him. Owens frowned. This team’s MO so far was shootings, driving into heavily trafficked areas and letting loose with a machine gun. This wasn’t matching up to that. Seeing a break in the traffic, Owens ran across the street, falling into step several paces behind the man.

“Vicky.” Owens paused, turning to stare into a shop window as the man turned around in his direction. As he did, the man pulled out a cellphone. “They’ve got a bomb!”

Owens broke into a sprint, dodging through the tourists as the man pressed a button on his phone.

*****

“They’ve got a bomb!” Owens’ voice had lost its emotionless quality and was suddenly frantic.

“What?” Vicky demanded, causing Maurice to look at her in concern. “Owens what do you mean?”

The street exploded. A wave of unbearable heat swept over them, followed immediately by a wall of flame. Vicky dropped to the ground, dragging Maurice down by his sleeve, hitting the pavement as the shrapnel rained down over them. A large piece of wood hit Vicky over the head and she pitched forward onto the ground. Somewhere behind them, someone screamed, people running haphazardly in every which way around them. Maurice stayed where he was on the ground as destruction rained down around him, trying desperately to keep his breathing even. A second explosion shook the street and Maurice covered his head with his arms, doing his best to sink into the sidewalk. Vicky was still motionless on the ground next to him and from where he was he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. The explosions seemed to have stopped and Maurice raised his head. People were still running around uselessly, screaming ringing over the street. Maurice clambered gingerly onto his knees, glancing around for any other members of the team. From where he was on the ground, he couldn’t see anyone other than Vicky. He crawled over to her, rolling her over to check her pulse when the museum exploded. Maurice was thrown flat from the blast, broken glass and building fragments showering down over him. He pressed himself further into the ground, feeling himself beginning to hyperventilate. He took a deep breath, clamping his hands tighter over the back of his head. The sharpnel kept coming this time, flaming pieces of building landing around him. After several more minutes of incessant shrapnel, the flaming rain stopped. He lay still, trying to keep his breath even. He kept his eyes to the earth until he felt that several minutes of silence had passed before daring to look up again. This time the street was silent and motionless, no one daring to breathe in the silence that followed the attacks. Eventually, he crawled over to where Vicky was lying. Through the dust and confusion he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. The only course of action would be to call a med team.

The call was long and arduous, Maurice’s German inadequate to properly express himself amid the emotions running rampant inside him.

Eventually he got through to them and managed to explain what he needed and they told him they’d be there soon. Not that he really knew what ‘soon’ meant. He lay on the pavement, still stunned by the explosion. People had started to run around again, yelling. His head ached with the screaming and he reached up to massage his temples. As he sat there, he heard an echoey voice in his ear. At first he assumed it was just another part of the rabble going on around him but then he recognized who was speaking.

“Maurice, come in.”

“Nils.” Maurice managed to choke out the name, taking a deep breath before trying to continue. “Vicky’s hurt. I’ve called for a med team.”

“I know.” Nils’ voice was calm and reassuring, giving Maurice a chance to catch his breath. “They just called me. Are you okay?”

He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “Sure. Vicky’s unconscious, I, I don’t know if she’s breathing, Nils, I…”

He trailed off, trying very hard not to burst into tears. He was a trained agent, his head shouldn’t feel this muddled.

“Okay, alright, Maurice I’m gonna need you to calm down, okay, take a deep breath and sit down. The med team is on their way, I just need you to hold on until they get there.”

“Vicky’s unconscious, Nils, I…” Maurice tried to explain, to make sense of what was happening but his thoughts were disordered and he trailed off again.”

“Maurice, I need you to take a deep breath, okay, the med team will be there in a sec. Sit down and take a deep breath before you go into shock, okay. You’ll be fine.”

Maurice nodded for no reason in particular, taking a deep shaky breath as he did so.

“Hang on Maurice, I’m getting another call. It’s probably the med team. I’m gonna have to put you on hold for a sec but I’ll be right back.”

Maurice wanted to ask him not to leave but he forced himself to stay calm. “Okay.”

For a few moments the line was silent. Maurice looked over at Vicky, still lying on the pavement and his heart started to pound again.

“Maurice?” Nils’ voice cut back into his thoughts. “The med team is right there, okay, they’ll take care of things from here.”

Maurice glanced up and caught sight of an ambulance coming towards him. “Yeah...yeah, I see them. Thanks Nils.”

“No problem buddy, you take care of yourself. One last thing, you haven’t seen Owens have you?”

Maurice frowned, trying to think of the last time he’d seen Owens. “Uhh, no. What about the girls?”

“They’re fine, they’re headed back to base now. Thanks Maurice. We’ll see you later.” Nils signed off abruptly and Maurice struggled to his feet to meet the med team.

*****

“Why have they changed their MO?” Cipriana asked, her feet resting on the dashboard of Adalie’s car. “They’ve suddenly graduated from driving in and letting loose with machine guns to sophisticated bombs in two seperate buildings which are set to explode minutes apart. How does that happen?”

Adalie sighed. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s someone else and we’re looking at two different perps.”

“I don’t think so. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense either way actually, because why change MO so suddenly and seemingly without provocation? I mean, we knew they’d be at Checkpoint Charlie but they can’t have known that. There’s no way.”

“Well, I think we have to assume that they did know, if they are in fact the same people. And if they did, then they probably planted those bombs to try and kill us off.”

Cipriana frowned. “And maybe it worked, for one of us anyways.”

“You think Owens is dead?” Adalie asked.

“Well, what else could have happened? I mean, I know none of us know him very well but he’s a bloody competent agent, if he was capable of checking in he would have.” Cipriana said, waving her hand out of the open window.

“Suppose that they did know we were coming. There would have had to be a leak somewhere on our end to inform them that we would be there, right? And all of us have checked in, and besides, we’ve known each other for ages. So it would only be logical to assume that the newest member, and coincidentally the only one who’s missing, is the mole.”

“There could be a reasonable explanation. Maybe he lost his earpiece. Or maybe they caught him somehow. And as for the mole theory, we are collaborating with the police. One of them could have leaked it.”

“Hmmm.” Adalie glared out the windscreen at nothing in particular. “I guess you could have a point.”

“Or it could be Chalice!” Cipriana said. “He could be calling the shots from behind the scenes, and what a great way of assuring you aren’t caught in the explosion!”

“I don’t know. I rather like Chalice, which doesn’t exonerate him, but makes me less inclined to believe it's him.”

“It's a good cover! But I agree, I don’t really think it's Chalice either. Not that I think it's Owens, for that matter.”

“You always want to see the best in people, don’t you?”

“What’s wrong with that? We couldn’t have two pessimists on this team, always thinking there’s a mole somewhere.” Cipriana laughed and took a sip of her iced coffee.

“Do you know why Owens left MI-6?”

“Of course not! Only Nils knows that shit about us.”

Adalie shuddered. “Yeah I hate to think what he could dig up on us. But there are other ways of obtaining information. I know some of the girls over there and there was a massive scandal a few years back, in 2015, I believe, and he was suspected of selling names. Well, he disappeared for a few years, supposedly dead and then turned up again in 2018.”

Cipriana raised her eyebrows at her. “2015? Wasn’t that the year MI-6 tried to pull off that WBFC takedown?”

“Yeah. Owens was one of the agents involved.”

“But they caught the mole! It wasn’t Owens, it was some other dude.”

“I know. But there was always a theory that there were two moles. Owens did go back to work for MI-6 for a while after he returned from the ‘dead’ but he quit not long after and came to work here.”

“That’s terribly anti-climactic! I thought you were going to tell me they kicked him out or something.” Cipriana said.

“Well that’s just the official version. We don’t actually know what happened.” Adalie added pointedly.

“You should quit Interpol. I’m sure you could make an absolute killing as a conspiracy theorist.” Cipriana smirked.

Adalie wacked her in the shoulder and Cipriana made a face.

“Hey!”

“I don’t know about Owens, Cipriana. He’s a bloody good agent, but I'm not sure about him.”

“He’s just shy! That doesn’t mean that he’s a traitor. I can’t believe he’d sell us out. I mean, why would he? I can’t believe he’s the kind of guy who would put people in danger for money. It’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe it is. But maybe not.”

*****

“Is he still not answering?” Chalice demanded, handing Nils a large iced coffee as he slammed back into the office.

Nils shook his head. “I’ve been trying every five minutes and I’ve still got nothing. The earpiece is either dead or it's fallen out and gotten destroyed, otherwise I’d be getting some kind of feedback.”

“Fuck.”

“But that means there’s a good chance he’s still alive. For now, we need to worry about something else. Why did they change from shooting to bombing?”

“They knew we were coming and had a higher chance of killing some of us with a bomb.” Chalice said, regaining some kind of composure. “If they had stayed with the shooting it would have been much easier for us to catch them.”

“Good point. But who tipped them off?” Nils mused, his fingers flying over his keyboard.

“What are you looking at?” Chalice asked, setting down his own coffee and leaning over the back of Nils’ chair.

“The records of all the police officers involved in our investigation. Oh!” Nils’ fingers stopped, hovering just above his keyboard.

“What is it?”

“This dude, Eberhard Seidel, his files are locked. I’m not allowed entry.”

“But you’re going to get in anyways?”

“You bet your ass I am.” Nils smirked, his fingers resuming their dance over his keyboard.

Chalice perched himself on the empty desk next to Nils and drank his coffee while he watched Nils work. It was impressive, the amount of information he could get out of five minutes of sitting at his computer.

“That’s interesting.” Nils said, frowning at his screen, his fingers still flying over the keys.

“What is?”

“His files are classified by the BND. Which isn’t an issue, but is intriguing.”

“German secret service?” Chalice paused, taking another sip of his coffee. “Is he one of their agents, d’you think?”

“That’s a more pleasant thought than the idea that there’s a suspected terrorist in the German police force.”

“Can you get through the BND security?”

“Is water wet?” Nils asked, not glancing away from his screens. “I just need a minute to crack it.”

Chalice cracked a smile for the first time since the bombs had gone off. If anyone could hack the German secret service, it would be Nils. There was a rumour that the reason he had been hired was because he’d hacked the Interpol server at age 16. Chalice wasn’t sure if it was true, but he didn’t doubt that it could be.

“Okay! I have bad news. Our man Eberhard was arrested on terrorism charges when he was a minor, which explains why it doesn’t show on his record.”

“So the police have a possible terrorist on their staff? Absolutely fucking wonderful.”

“It gets worse! He’s not just any police officer.”

“Oh don’t tell me.” Chalice groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“He just so happens to be the son of the Chief Constable.”

“Somehow that’s worse than I thought. Fuck, this is a mess and a half.”

“Agreed.” Nils said. “There’s nothing in here about what his motives were, unfortunately. I’m not seeing anything about links to known terrorist organizations or anything like that.”

“I guess we’ll have to figure that out, won’t we?” Chalice asked.

Nils smirked. “I suppose we will. More importantly, we need to figure out where they’re going to strike next. Major events going on in Berlin, protests, government shit, stuff like that. Where will have the highest body count? We know they’ve graduated to bombs now so we can’t assume that they’ll go back from that, so it could be a...a...function or a…”

“A ball, perhaps?”

Nils spun around violently, jamming his feet on the floor to stop himself from flying back into his desk. “A ball?”

“Yeah. Some fancy dress ball, I think it's a political fundraiser of some kind.” Chalice said. “I keep seeing posters for it.”

“Chalice you are a genius.” Nils said, spinning back around in his chair and resuming his furious typing. “This Saturday. Hotel Adlon Kempinski Berlin. That’s not in the center of town but its five-star and bloody expensive. And based on the guestlist, it's gonna be packed, full of big names too.”

“My supposed genius doesn’t help us much if we have two agents in hospital and one MIA. This thing’s gonna be huge. The four of us can’t handle it ourselves, there’s no way.”

“We can try! Maurice should be out of hospital by then, and hopefully we’ll have found Owens, so we should just be down Vicky and if not I have some favours I could call in, which would mean someone could take over this job and I could be in the field with the other guys.”

“You have field training?”

“Naturally. And I can shoot.”

“That’s not fair! I’m still waiting to take my field training course and I can’t shoot.”

Nils laughed. "Oh I know it'll work out in the end. Besides, you don't need field training to help save the world! You really want to run around out there with those guys?"

"You know I do.”

“Because you think you’ll be able to keep a closer eye on him if you’re out there too, is that it?” Nils turned to face him, twirling his pen expectantly between his fingers. Chalice stared at him defiantly.

“Of course not. He can look after himself.”

“Which is why you’re so worried?”

“Well he can’t very well look after himself if he’s dead.” Chalice snapped, jumping off of Nils’ desk and beginning to pace again. Nils rolled his eyes.

“You shouldn’t worry about him so much. He can handle himself.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Chalice demanded, not stopping his pacing. “I...I just worry about him. He’s not how he used to be back in MI-6.”

Nils frowned sympathetically. “Chalice, I know both of you went through some shit, but seriously, he can handle himself. Nothing good comes from worrying about him. It’s pointless, it just stresses you out.”

“You’re telling me you don’t worry about Nikki?”

Nils sighed. “That’s different and you know it. As it stands right now, you’re just friends and it’s going to stay that way unless you do something about it.”

He turned back to his screens, pushing a button on his headphones as he did so.

“Owens, it’s Nils. Come in please.”

There was silence. No static, or faint heartbeats, or background noise. Just pure silence.

“The earpiece is dead or destroyed. Meaning it's likely that it isn’t attached to him anymore, so his chances are pretty good. I’ll call his work cell, maybe he’ll pick up on that number. Gimme a sec.”

Chalice waited impatiently, wringing his hands and trying to suppress the urge to start pacing again. Nils watched him in the reflection of his computer screens as Owens’ phone kept ringing.

It stopped with an automated voice telling him he’d reached Theodore Owens but he wasn’t available right now. There was no personal message, which was pretty standard for agents. Nils didn’t bother leaving a message.

“No reply I’m afraid. The emergency crews are moving in now so if he’s there, they’ll find him. I promise.”

Chalice opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. There was nothing he could say now that he hadn’t said before. Nils was probably right, Owens was probably alive somewhere running after the guys who had caused this mess in the first place.

*****

The second Owens started running, the street exploded behind him. The ground shook, pieces of rubble flying past his head, but he managed to keep his balance and kept sprinting. The man in the hoodie had seen him by now and took off running, throwing the detonator into the street as he ran. Around them people screamed, some running in every direction, others just standing still. The man in the hoodie dodged through them recklessly, shoving people aside when they didn’t move out of his way. Owens followed, gaining on him quickly, his right hand reaching back for his gun. The man in the hoodie noticed the movement and dodged down an alleyway, Owens’ feet nearly sliding out from under him as he followed.

“Stop!” Owens yelled, flicking off his gun’s safety. The man didn’t so much as slow down, yelling something in German over his shoulder. Owens didn’t understand, but didn’t like the sound of it anyways. He took the risk of glancing over his shoulder, doing so just in time to see a woman barreling at him from behind. He dodged sideways, firing his gun at her as he did so. He missed. She didn’t, careening into him at full speed and throwing him against the wall as the man in the hoodie switched directions and began walking towards them.

Owens shoved her off of him and she stumbled backwards, cursing at him in German. Owens leveled his gun at her but the man slammed into him from behind and he went down hard. The gun flew from his hand, skittering across the ground. He rolled over, reaching for it but the woman kicked it away, leaving him completely unarmed. He struggled onto his elbows, making to get up but the man aimed a sharp kick at his face and he fell back to the ground, momentarily disoriented.

“Who is he?” A third figure demanded, emerging from the shadows behind the man.

Owens sat up with difficulty, his head spinning from the blow. The woman made a move to shove him back down again but was stopped at a sign from the figure in the shadows.

“We don’t know.” She responded curtly.

“He followed me from the checkpoint. We do not know who he is.”

The figure stepped into the light and Owens’ heart dropped. It was Eberhard Seidel. He was one of the police officers that they had been working with, but Owens suspected he wasn’t there on police business.

“Ah. Agent Owens, is it not?” Eberhard said, looking at him for a moment before turning to the man. “Shoot him.”

“You’re in trouble Seidel.” Owens rasped, his hand clutching at the stone wall as he attempted to stand up. Blood poured from his nose and the world spun around him as he hoisted himself to his feet. For a moment he thought he was about to faint but the shadows retreated from the edges of his vision.

“I do not think so.” He smiled, throwing his arms wide. “Only you have seen me, and you will be dead soon.”

“My team is smarter than you think.” Owens said as Eberhard turned and began walking away.

“My records are sealed!” He crowed triumphantly over his shoulder. Despite the pain, Owens managed a smirk.

“Have you met our tech analyst? He can get into anything.”

When I said ‘shoot him’ I meant now!” Eberhard yelled at the man in the hoodie. The man grimaced and went for his gun. Owens lunged for him, sending him flying backwards into the other wall of the alley. He fell to the ground and Owens was about to run for it when he heard the safety of a gun click right behind his head. He had forgotten about the woman.

*****

“How you doin’ buddy?” Chalice asked, standing in the doorway of Maurice’s hospital room.

“Fine. I’d be a lot better if they’d let me out of here. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Chalice grinned, moving into the room and sitting down in the chair next to Maurice’s bed. “I wasn’t aware you were a doctor in your free time.”

“I don’t need to be a doctor to know that I’m perfectly fine.” Maurice shot back, sitting up in the hospital bed.

“They’re just worried that you’re in shock. That was one hell of an explosion Maurice, I was rather worried about you myself.”

“I’m honoured. How are the girls?”

“Adalie and Cipriana were on their way back to base the last time I heard. Vicky is awake now, they’re running some tests and they think she has a concussion but she’ll be okay.”

“That’s good.” Maurice said. “What about Owens? When I talked to Nils it sounded like you guys weren’t sure where he was.”

Chalice paused for a second, his eyes fixed intently on the ground. When he spoke again, his voice was measured and even, as if he was trying not to betray some intense emotion. “He still hasn’t checked in yet. You’re sure you didn’t see him before the explosion?”

Maurice frowned, trying to remember. “I didn’t see him but Vicky was talking to him right before the bomb went off. She...she seemed surprised about something and asked what he meant but then, it exploded.”

Chalice frowned. “You didn’t hear what he said?”

“No. It just wasn’t something she expected him to say.” Maurice watched Chalice’s face carefully. He was staring absently into the middle distance, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Has Nils told you what we found out?” Chalice asked, snapping out of his reverie.

“Nope. I have heard nothing.”

“We think Eberhard Seidel is involved, that he’s feeding information to the group.”

“Eberhard Seidel, isn’t he the Chief Constable's son?”

“Uh huh. One and the same.”

“Shit. That’s not good.”

“No it most certainly is not. Nils managed to get into his files and found out that Seidel was connected to suspected terrorist activity when he was a minor. I guess his dad must have helped him cover it up and gotten him a job.” Chalice said.

“Christ.” Maurice passed a hand over his face. “What are we gonna do?”

“There’s a ball happening this Saturday that we think is gonna be their next target so we’re going to be there. And we’ll be prepared this time. Bring in the bomb squad, whatever it takes to catch these assholes.”

“Even down two agents? I mean, I’ll be there, for sure, but with Vicky concussed and Owens…” Maurice trailed off. Owens had to be dead, didn’t he? Well, there was of course another alternative, but there was no way he would ever voice it to Chalice.

Chalice swallowed hard. “We’ll manage. Nils said he’s got a few favours he can call in and, worst comes to worst, he can always join you guys in the field.”

“Yeah.” Maurice frowned. “Hey, are you alright? You don’t sound too hot.”

“I’m fine. I’m just a little worried about Owens.” Maurice opened his mouth to talk but Chalice cut him off. “And I know, I know, he can handle himself I just, I can’t help it.”

“I get that. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. You MI-6 boys have a way of getting yourselves out of tricky situations.” Maurice laughed, then grimaced from the pain.

“I thought you said you were absolutely fine?” Chalice smiled. “You sure you’re gonna be okay for Saturday?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” Maurice said determinedly. “You guys are gonna need my help.”

“We need you alive for the long term and going into a dangerous situation while still in shock will not help that cause.”

“I’m not in shock!” Maurice protested loudly. “I’m fine!”

Chalice laughed. “Sure you are. Anyways Maurice, I’ve got to get back to Nils but I’ll see you later. He’ll probably swing by and bring you a coffee or something.”

“Hopefully I’ll be out of here by then.”

“I know, I know, you’re fine. But look after yourself anyways. See ya.”

“See you!”

Chalice slipped quietly out of the room and down the hallway. Halfway down, he stopped and pulled out his phone. He shouldn’t. It could quite easily put Owens in more danger than he was probably already in. He knew better. He dialed anyways.

The phone rang for an excruciatingly long period of time and Chalice started to fidget. He wasn’t going to pick up and Chalice knew that. This had been a bad idea.

“This is not a good time.” Owens panted. He sounded terrible but he sounded alive and right now that was all that mattered.

Chalice couldn’t talk for a few seconds, and when he regained his voice all he could manage was a weak laugh. “Really? I thought now was a perfect time for a quick chat.”

“Honestly Chalice,” Owens breathed heavily, “you’re terrible. And yes, I’m fine. Where are you?”

“At the hospital with Maurice. You need me to come pick you up?”

Owens managed a laugh. “You can’t drive. Get the police to come pick me up. But not Seidel!”

“Oh fuck you know about him too?”

“Yes. He just tried to shoot me.”

“Shit, Owens!”

“I’m fine! Just get the police to pick me up.” Owens stopped for breath. “I’m back in the police zone now so he can’t get me here. Just get someone to pick me up and I’ll see you later. Don’t worry.”

The line went dead and Chalice took a deep breath of relief. He was safe. And he was fine enough to crack jokes, which was a good sign. He caught himself smiling and stopped, shoving his hands into his pockets before walking out of the hospital to dial the police station.

*****

“Hey Nils!” Cipriana said cheerfully, waving at him through his office door. “How goes it?”

“Oh!” Nils spun around in his chair, his headphones falling off as he slammed to a stop. “Hey! I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“She wanted to stop for more coffee but I wouldn’t let her.” Adalie said. “Where’s Chalice?”

Nils laughed. “Coffee deprivation is no joke. Chalice went to the hospital to check on Maurice and Vicky. He should be well on his way back by now.”

“Oh? How are they?” Cipriana asked.

“Uhhh, last I heard Maurice is sure that he’s fine and Vicky has a concussion but she should be okay.” Nils said.

“That’s good!” Cipriana grinned. “Any word from Owens yet?”

“Hi.”

Cipriana and Adalie wheeled round in astonishment, almost falling over as they spotted Owens standing in the doorway. He looked absolutely terrible, his face bloody and his hair matted, but he managed to have a slight smile on his face. Nils laughed.

“Welcome back. Shouldn’t you be in hospital?”

Owens laughed. “I’m fine, it’s just a broken nose.”

“You sound like Maurice. I still want you checked for a concussion asap.” Nils paused for a second, staring at him intently. “Have you spoken to Chalice? He’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, he called me.”

“He what?” Adalie snapped. “That’s strictly against protocol.”

“Oh give him a break Adalie, the boy was worried.” Nils said.

“He could have put him in more danger!” Adalie spun to face Nils. “It’s reckless!”

“But he didn’t put me in danger.” Owens said patiently. “Yes, it was against protocol, but we’ve been through a lot in the past few years and it’s understandable that he got worried. Please, cut him some slack this time.”

Nils looked at the back of Owens’ head, his eyebrows raised. Adalie huffed.

“Let it go!” Cipriana grinned, playfully punching her in the shoulder. Adalie frowned before nodding reluctantly.

“Fine. I’ll let it go.” She frowned, wondering if maybe Owens and Chalice were in this together.

“Have you girls had the update yet?” Nils asked, quickly changing the subject.

“No, what update?” Cipriana asked.

Nils glanced around suspiciously and motioned for Owens to close the door. Owens did.

“So, Chalice and I were thinking after the explosion, and we decided that someone must have leaked information to the group.” Nils paused.

Adalie shot a pointed look at Owens, who didn’t notice. Cipriana did, however, and kicked her in the ankle.

“So, naturally,” Nils continued, “I did some digging into the police officers we’ve been working with and I got something.”

“Oh?” Cipirana asked.

“Eberhard Seidel’s files were locked, and by the BND no less.”

“Isn’t he the chief’s son?” Cipriana asked. “Why would his files be locked?”

“Well, it turns out he was arrested on terrorist charges when he was a minor. My guess is, dad sealed up his record for him so he could still get into the force.”

“Fuck.” said Adalie, agressively throwing her empty coffee cup into the garbage bin. “Where is he now?”

“Last seen a few blocks away from the scene of the explosion.” Owens said. “He tried to get his minions to shoot me. Needless to say, that plan didn’t quite pan out.”

Nils laughed, then his face turned serious again. “‘His minions?’ Owens, do you think he’s in charge of this?”

“Almost certainly. The people he was with treated him with, I wouldn’t say respect exactly, it was like they were scared of him.”

“What do we do?” Cipriana asked. “Should we tell the chief? I mean, his son tried to shoot Owens.”

“No we can’t tell the chief yet.” Nils sighed. “And besides, he didn’t actually try and shoot Owens, he got someone else to do that. This guy is smart. No, I say we let him be for now. There’s a ball this Saturday, some sort of political fundraiser and we expect them to hit there next.”

“So what?” Adalie demanded. “We’re going to let them blow all those people up?”

“We set them up.” Owens said quietly. “We let Seidel think that we think that they’re going to hit somewhere else. If they think that they’re going to get away with it, they won’t expect us.”

“And they might slip up!” Cipriana added.

“Yeah.” Nils mused, starting to twirl his pen again. “But that means we won’t have any help with the take-down itself. It’ll be just our team. If we’re keeping this from Seidel, we’ll have to keep it from everyone so no one blabs.”

“Why don’t we contact the BND?” Owens asked. “There’s no way that we can take these guys out with just the six of us, assuming Maurice will be out of hospital by then.”

“Five.” Adalie corrected. “Chalice isn’t an agent.”

“You’re right, Owens. I’ll call the BND, I’ve got a few guys there who still owe me a favour.” Nils turned to Adalie. “Chalice can help me out in the van. Or we can send him in to relay information back to me. Don’t be so stuffy.”

She frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“Okay! We’ll get started on figuring out a plan for Saturday. We’ll make sure not to let any of the police hear our plans.” Cipriana said cheerfully, putting her hand on the doorknob.

“Sounds good, I’ll get on the phone.” Adalie, Cipriana and Owens made for the door but Nils stopped them. “Not you, Owens, you’re going to the hospital. I want you checked up.”

Owens sighed, leaning his head back against the doorframe. “I’m fine Nils, I’ve survived worse than a broken nose.”

“I don’t care.” Nils said, deliberately holding Owens’ gaze. “You could be concussed.”

“I can figure that out later rather than wasting valuable time hanging around at the hospital.” Owens said.

Cipriana snorted with laughter, holding a hand over her mouth in a fruitless attempt to disguise it as a cough.

“Oh so you’re going to wait until you pass out? I don’t think so.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Do you have a headache?” Nils asked.

“Do I…” Owens paused, tilting his head to one side, “do I have a headache? Yes, of course I have a headache Nils, I was kicked in the face.”

Nils frowned. “Please look after yourself.”

Owens’ voice softened. “I will.”

“Fine.” Nils sighed in defeat. “I’ll see you later.”

Owens slipped quietly out of Nils’ office, closing the door gently behind him. His head was throbbing, and the panic he had been trying so hard to keep down was threatening to break free. As he headed towards the bathrooms, he still had blood covering his face from his broken nose, he stopped at Chalice’s desk. There was always a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol in his top drawer, even if they weren’t in their own office. He rifled through the drawer, finding the bottle easily and emptying three pills into the palm of his hand. He swallowed them quickly and moved to the bathroom to clean the blood off his face.

*****

“What do you mean ‘he got away?’” Seidel demanded, stomping out his cigarette angrily. “I told you to shoot him! Elske, now we are fucked! I told you to shoot the fucker for a reason, he knows who I am!”

Chalice flattened himself back against the wall just out of Seidel’s view, his own cigarette dangling from his fingers. He couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone said, but Seidel definetly wasn’t pleased.

“Of course we’re going ahead with it! They don’t know the plan yet and we’re going to make sure that they don’t find out.”

Chalice smirked, quickly glancing back towards the main doors before taking a drag of his cigarette. He wasn’t supposed to be smoking but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

“Yes, of course I’m going to try and mislead them. One of the dudes comes out here to smoke, I’ll feed him some bullshit story or other.”

There was a pause and Chalice took another quick drag.

“You better be fucking sorry! You fucked this up Elske and don’t think I’m going to forget that. The boss won’t be too pleased either.”

Chalice frowned. Who was the boss, he wondered. That was something that they hadn’t been able to work out from the beginning, who was behind this whole operation. They had assumed that it was Seidel but apparently that wasn’t the case. Seidel cursed something in German and hung up, stomping angrily around the small smoking area. Chalice waited. He didn’t want him to think that he had been listening this whole time.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Chalice slipped around the corner, cigarette between his lips, phone in hand. He didn’t talk, just leaning back against the wall nonchalantly.

“Your team okay?” Seidel asked him.

Chalice glanced up. “Oh, uh, not really. Two are in hospital and last I heard one more was missing.”

Chalice turned back to his phone, not wanting to initiate the conversation.

“Oh.” Seidel hasn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Chalice shrugged, not raising his eyes. His teammate was supposed to be missing, he wasn’t about to blow his cover by being too chatty. “Let’s hope he’s not dead.”

Seidel swallowed hard. “I’m sure he’s fine. What are your next steps?”

There it was.

“We think they’re going to hit the big shopping mall next, probably this Thursday, since they’re hosting an event there.”

It was a well-rehearsed lie, one that Nils had sent him on his way back from the hospital. He could have sworn he saw a smirk cross Seidel’s lips for a second before he pulled back on his mask.

“Of course. We were warned that they might try a mall next.”

That was absolute bullshit and Chalice tried not to laugh. Did he really think he could fool the whole team? Him, sure, Chalice had been mistaken for an idiot enough times to know how to play the game, but Owens and Adalie were much too smart to be played. Surely Seidel must know that.

“Yeah. It’s a pretty common target for terrorists.” Chalice put a little too much emphasis on the last word and watched Seidel squirm. “We’re going to brief your men later, three days isn’t a lot of time to get ready for something so big.”

“Of course.” Seidel nodded.

Chalice stamped out his cigarette, glancing around furtively to make sure none of the team was watching. Seidel noticed.

“Are you not supposed to be smoking?” He asked, as they started back inside the building.

“No I am not.” Chalice laughed. “I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Of course.” Seidel nodded.

They split directions as they re-entered the building, exchanging curt nods. Seidel seemed to think that they were friends, which was good. Seidel thought that he was playing Chalice, when it was actually the other way around. Chalice glanced around the area of the office that the team was occupying. Owens wasn’t around that he could see and he frowned. Where was he? He should have been back by now. Still frowning, he wandered into Nils’ office.

Nils looked up as he walked in. “Can you go check on your boy please? He went to the bathroom about 15 minutes ago and I’m a little worried.”

“He’s back?” Chalice asked.

“Yeah. I think he might be concussed but he’s refusing to see a doctor.”

Chalice smiled sadly. “Yeah, that’s Owens for you. I’ll go make sure he’s okay.”

Chalice quietly pushed the door to the bathroom open. It wasn’t locked, which was a good sign, and Chalice slipped inside. Owens was on his elbows over the sink, his forehead leaning against the mirror. He looked terrible, his face covered in blood, his nose obviously broken. Chalice leant against the door, waiting for Owens to notice him. He didn’t, his breath coming in short pants and gasps.

“You good?” Chalice asked quietly.

Owens shook his head, forehead still resting against the mirror. “Just..just give me a second Chalice.”

“Okay. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Owens didn’t protest. They had done this enough times before to know the routine. Chalice waited as Owens collected himself. He pulled himself up, turning around and sitting on the counter. He pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“I…” Owens stopped. “I’m sorry. That encounter with Seidel shook me a little.”

“That’s understandable.” Chalice said, keeping his voice gentle. “I thought the attacks had stopped?”

Owens didn’t say anything, hanging his head.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’d just like to know, that’s all. So I can help.” Chalice was struggling to keep his tone even now but he fought it.

“You worry too much.” Owens’ voice was barely a whisper and he refused to look Chalice in the eyes.

Chalice bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he was going to regret. He paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“It’s for your own good.” Chalice said. His voice was still gentle but he spoke with renewed confidence, none of which he felt. “You need someone to look after you sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Owens mumbled.

“Get yourself washed up.” Chalice said gently. “Nils is expecting you back. D’you want me to stay with you?”

Owens shook his head and turned back to the sink to wash his face.

“Okay. I’ll tell Nils you’re okay.”

Chalice slid quietly out of the bathroom. Owens wasn’t okay, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, but Chalice didn’t know how to help anymore. If Owens didn’t want his help, then there was nothing he could do.

*****

“Is he okay?” Nils asked as Chalice walked into his office.

“He doesn’t seem to be concussed, if that’s what you’re asking.” Chalice sighed, sitting on the desk next to Nils and covering his face with his hands.

“Ah.”

“You know about the attacks?” Chalice asked, lowering his hands.

“Yeah. He had to undergo a psych evaluation when he joined and he disclosed the attacks then. I asked him about them and he said he could handle it.”

Chalice sighed. “Typical. He told me they had stopped.”

“He's probably ashamed of it. You know him better than I do, Chalice, but I can tell that he's the kind of guy who would rather suffer in silence than admit he needs help. I wouldn't take it personally. ”

He nodded. “I know. I just wish he could trust me.”

Nils sighed. “Give him some time. Anyways!” Nils clapped his hands together and stood up. “We need to brief our team before we speak to the police officers.”

“I spoke to Seidel earlier.” Chalice said, following Nils out of his office and towards the conference room where the remaining members of the team were. “I started feeding him that story you told me.”

Nils frowned at him. “I thought I smelled smoke on you. Good job with Seidel though.”

“Thank you. He thinks that we’re friends now, so he’s more willing to trust me. Oh, and Nils?” Chalice stopped just outside the conference room. “Please don’t tell Owens about the smoking.”

“No, I won’t.” Nils sighed, pushing the door open.

Adalie, Cipriana, Maurice and Owens were sitting around a round table in the middle of the room. Nils looked at Owens as he walked in and mouthed the words “you okay?” Owens nodded unconvincingly. He still looked shaky and uncertain, his hair falling messily into his eyes. Nils wondered just how bad the attacks were. In all honesty, he should probably recommend that Owens undergo another psych evaluation, take him out of the field for a while before something went badly wrong, but he couldn’t help but think of that as a kind of betrayal. Nils sighed and walked into the room behind Chalice, closing the door after him.

“So,” Nils started, as everyone else sat down. “Despite the fact that we are currently down an agent, we’re moving ahead with plans to make our move on Saturday. Maurice, are you sure you’ll be good?”

“I’ll be fine!” Maurice said. “They discharged me after a few hours, Nils, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Okay, fine, so you’ll be there for Saturday. Vicky has a concussion and certainly won’t be able to help us. I’ve called in some friends from the BND, I’m going over there later to debrief them before we talk to the police.”

“Will all of us be in the field?” Owens asked. He was pale, and his voice wavered, but no one except Nils and Chalice seemed to notice.

“Yup, everyone except me. I’ll be in the van, directing from behind the scenes as usual.” Nils said, meeting Adalie’s exasperated gaze.

“Really? You think that’s a good idea?”

“We need all the help we can get.” Owens replied quietly. Nils nodded.

“He’s right. It won’t be an issue.”

Adalie frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“So,” Nils leant forward over the table, lowering his voice, “we all know about Seidel, correct?”

Everyone nodded, and Nils noticed that Owens’ hand instinctively went to his broken nose.

“Because of him, this stays between us. The official story is that we believe the group are going to attack the mall on Thursday. There will be an armed response and we’ll be there too, but when nothing happens we’ll say we were called back to London and gave up the case as a bad job, except me, of course, because I have to stay and look after Vicky.”

“Right!” said Cipriana. “And where are we going? Not back to London?”

Nils laughed. “Of course not. No, you’ll go to the airport, hang around for a few hours and then come back, all leaving at different times. You’ll be staying at various hotels around the city until Saturday.”

“Will we have contact with each other?” Chalice asked.

“Of course you will, we won’t be in deep cover, just making sure we aren’t obvious. We’ll be meeting pretty much daily as well, this thing is going to take a lot of coordination to pull off properly. My friends over at the BND have agreed to let us use a room in their basement for this.”

Adalie arched an eyebrow. “You seem to have a lot of ‘friends’ at the BND.”

Nils laughed. “I did them a favour once. For legal reasons, I can’t tell you what.”

Chalice frowned at him suspiciously. “Legal reasons as in it’s covered by the official secrets act or legal reasons as in the favour was illegal?”

“That would be giving the game away.” Nils winked at him. “Anyways, this is not the issue at hand. We will be briefing the police on the mall plan tomorrow, I’ve already typed up a vague action plan for the ‘take-down.’ Adalie, since Vicky isn’t here, I want you to look the plan over and then bring it to the chief for finalization. You and Chalice will lead the briefing tomorrow as well.”

Adalie nodded. Chalice’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait, why me?”

“It is your job!” Cipriana laughed. Chalice rolled his eyes playfully.

“She has a point!” Nils grinned. “And you’ve already approached Seidel with the plan, so I think he’s more likely to trust you than one of us.”

“Okay, I get that, but you know the plan much better than I do.”

“Ah. Well, since I’m the only one who’s staying behind, they can’t think that I’m at all useful to the team. If they know that I’m, well, not ‘in charge’ exactly, but giving instructions, then they might be suspicious when I stay behind.”

“Okay, makes sense.” Chalice sighed.

“Cipriana, I want you to help out with that as well, but Chalice and Adalie will be in charge.” Nils continued. “Owens, Maurice and I are going to start with our plan for Saturday. You two will be over at the BND tomorrow, I’ll introduce you and you can get started.”

“Won’t that look suspicious?” Maurice asked. “If two agents just don’t show up.”

“Not at all. You two are both supposed to be on medical leave and that’s the cover you’ll be working under.”

“Ah. Right. As if we would ever actually be granted medical leave. I thought our covers were supposed to be realistic?”

Nils laughed. “Careful what you say, Maurice, if you want to keep your job.”

“Oh no. What are they gonna do, replace me?” Maurice said sarcastically. “With what agents?”

Cipriana laughed, and even Adalie managed to crack a smile. Owens remained silent, his eyes fixed on the middle distance. Nils wasn’t entirely sure if he had heard a word of the briefing. He would have to pull him aside some time and get him to talk.

“Are we good to go Nils?” Maurice asked. “It’s already almost 11pm and I would like to sleep tonight.”

“Oh shit, is that the time? Yeah, for sure you guys, go back to the hotel and get some rest, it’s been one hell of a day. Maurice and Owens, I want you guys to meet me at the BND building at 7am tomorrow morning. The rest of you, here at 9am. I’ll see you guys then!”

Nils stood at the head of the table, sifting through his files as the team streamed out. Everyone looked tired and tense, except maybe Cipriana, who had had enough iced coffee to power a small country. Owens was the last to leave.

“Hey.” Nils said, once they were alone in the room. Chalice had gone to grab his coat, promising to wait for Owens and to walk him back to the hotel. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

“I will be.” Owens mumbled. “I just need a good night's sleep.”

“It’s okay if you aren’t, Owens. There’s no shame in that. If you need anything, you need to tell someone. We can’t have you breaking down.”

Owens sighed heavily, passing a shaky hand over his face. “I know. I’ve been going to my psychologist pretty regularly, but we’ve been out of town so I haven’t been for a few weeks.”

That was good news, at least.

“Are you on anything? For the attacks?” Nils asked.

“No.I...I couldn’t get a prescription and keep working.” Owens looked up, and Nils could tell he was trying to fight back tears. “I know it sounds stupid, Nils, but this job is everything I have. If I lose it, I’m sure everything will get worse.”

“Jesus.” Nils muttered. “I get it, Owens. But you need a break from this. I know you don’t want to stop working because you’re scared it’s going to get worse, but if you keep working I’m scared you’re going to break down eventually.”

Owens shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to the hotel. But promise me you’ll look after yourself, or at least let Chalice look after you.” Nils said, putting the last of his papers into his messenger bag.

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Nils.”

“No problem. I’m always around if you need anything, Owens, and I mean that.”

Owens nodded, grabbing his stuff and walking out of the room, meeting Chalice on his way out. Nils sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Those MI-6 boys were going to kill him one day.

#my writing #original writing #original work #fiction #spies #spy fiction #crimefiction #writers on tumblr #writing

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mekutoblog-blog · 3 years

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Social Media: Back in the early years of technology emergence the access to a specific and reliable information is relatively hard, considering that the only thing that possess the ability to produce information to mass amount of people were the Television, Radio and Newspapers, we are now thinking how was that relatively hard in terms of gathering information? Well the thing is, the amount of information that we are able to get is utterly limited since we don't get a hold of the information that they produce through those mediums. If we were to compare the accessibility of information plus the degree of technology that we possess in today's generation I can say that it is on a higher level, that is because most of us have the technology that possess the knowledge to send people to the moon which is the smartphones. Now we are probably wondering what is the connection of the smartphones with social media, well as technology gradually improves from a short span of time, we can easily acquire reliable information through our phones which takes minimal effort to be done. Since the social media took place freely in everyone's hands we are not just provided with simple informations thus we are provided with a broad range of benefits depending on how we use it. Speaking of benefits depending on using it, there are several ways to do it. First, as mentioned earlier through using social media with today's convenient technology students, researchers and everybody that needs those important information are now able to get ahold of it without spending too much time searching for it, this makes it a beneficial factor for everyone due to its ease of access and time efficiency service. Second, not only social media does provide us with reliable information. It also gives people jobs, through this platform several people took the opportunity to share more information and also to generate income which in today's generation we call them influencers, vloggers, social workers and etc. What they do is share specific knowledge through social media as their medium and generate income in return for their efforts, which is pretty decent for a job. This also serves as a beneficial factor in a sense that more information is passed through people and others can gain income for it. Lastly, we all know that social media can provide us adequate information and is able to generate plenty amount of money, but do you also know that social media can be used to save lives? Apparently yes. Social media is very vital in terms of emergency situations which puts lives of a major number of individuals in the line, the government sectors can also use social media as a medium to relay important information during catastrophic moments in which is very needed to maintain the order between panic and chaos, this makes the social media as the most efficient medium to relay information in times like these due to its efficiency in passing down information and the vast majority of people using it. To sum up everything that has been stated so far, the social media of today's generation clearly is more efficient than the previous generations version of social media. Yes it does provide some disadvantage in a slight scale but compared to the advantage that it displays, it is so vast that we can choose to not mind the disadvantage at most times.

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suchalilyofthevalley · 4 years

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What kind of path do you see Camila’s career taking, outside of her connection with Shawn Mendes? How do you feel about her publicity/marketing teams? Are they doing too much or too small, based off of your own experiences?

Full disclosure – I am not a fan. Wasn’t into of 5H (which I mentioned herein the Normani ask earlier today) and really wasn’t a fan of her once she went solo. I’m approaching this solely from PR professional/music industry perspective here.

Her team first and foremost needs to understand what I call separation of churchand state. Right now, ALL you see is her and Shawn. There’s little to no separate entity of it. They played it all through from the drop of Senorita to album press to tour press to second single push. It’s all her talking points seemed to be about during anything on press. Little on the album, heavy on the relationship and the Shawn of it. They’ve had a loud social buzz from her fan base through it all, but it has not translated into transactions, sales, traction with general mass pop or anything of the like. And let’s be honest the approach they’ve been taking - it ain’t working. That’s not opinion (which of mine it is) it’s fact.

Let’s break it down for proof’s/facts sake:

Album sales were lackluster stateside for a sophomore release with the amount Sony was throwing at it. It may have somewhat ok overseas, but the US - it didn’t move the units. Yes, it was a top 5 debut on the charts coming in at 3 with 86K in equivalent units, but it only moved 50k in pure sales, 30,000 stream-equivalent sales resulting from 40.6 million on-demand streams (which I would love to know how many are Seniorita pre-album drop), and 2,000 track-equivalent sales. Sourcing/thanks to Billboard and the charting master Keith for this. It maxed out at a top 2 position before sliding off the top of the chart.

Singles really didn’t get high up (not taking into consideration Seniorita because that success came before the album dropped as much as it’s on her album) nor get a ton of spin on the radio. Streaming numbers can be shifted the same way due to the single “non-single” being included. The secondary push of My Oh My was a valiant effort, but considering it dropped so soon after the album push/press, other than Fallon, you didn’t see a lot of major outlets doubling up on the press ops or support.

Let’s not forget the tour that they couldn’t sell and fill. Scaling for it was high meaning ticket prices weren’t too forgiving I think at ON SALE the cheapest ticket was 99 upwards of 899 for platinum/VIP (give or take a few bucks on either side on both of these). It was a new promoter for this tour (went from smaller scaled/smaller venue Live Nation produced tour playing theatersand smaller GA venues to AEG/Messina Touring production in a massive haul across the globe). The first headlining tour kicked off in Spring 2018 so not too far in the distant past, something like 16 US/Canada dates but again,smaller venues. This new tour also jumped from places like Terminal 5 in NYC where she played on the first tour straight into a venue like MSG. T5′s max cap is 3,000. MSG depending on the concert setup is almost 21,000. That’s a MASSIVE JUMP in a short period of time. This new tour routing was 28 across US/Canada/Mexico in venues that are 3-5-7 times the size she was playing last. I did see they added some dynamic pricing models for some buildings, doing me + 3 ticket packs with TM and dropping some price points through their scaling. It also was super telling when Ticketmaster went from the dot map matrix for some venues that they’ve been loving to tout to fans so you can see exactly down to the minutia where you’re sitting, to the greyscale here’s the map and this is what we’re pulling for ‘best available’ for you. Last I had seen, venues were looking somewhere between a 20-45ish% capacity. Even with as far out as some of the dates were, from a building/promoter perspective, that raises some red flags.

PERSONAL OPINION ON TOURING (given I’ve worked touring and venues before): They never should have transitioned her into venues like that just yet. This should have been a summer/fall/winter outing starting in sheds/amps outside here in North America where max caps can range from 9k to 15k depending on the market and are probably more forgiving when ticket sales aren’t there - ex: PNC Bank Arts Center in NJ, their set up is seated amp then a whole back lawn for GA seating. Then, transition over to closed buildings in Europe/South America/wherever else they had her routed where you’ve got some more flex over closed building size.

She was everywhere and anywhere pimped out to the max. We all saw it. Anywhere she could have been on, she was and then some. Like it got to be well-oversaturated overkill. The partnerships they did like The 1-800-Flowers Valentine’s day promo with buy roses and here’s a pair of tickets, the CD bundles, concert ticket bundles they were throwing at it, the sheer amount of PAID radio, digital and streaming ad promo. There were entire FULL WEEK LONG takeovers of ticket giveaways for this well after the on-sale date. Like one Adult Contemporary station in New York, Fresh 102.7, it was anytime ANYONE calls in, even if it’s not a call in to win, we’ll give you tickets. There were long blocks of giveaways like that on Z100 here in NYC too, like 6 times a day we give away for a long weekend Fri-Mon. Like Sony threw everything and the damn kitchen sink at this and now we can look back and see the results.

PERSONAL OPINION: I don’t think they’ve done a good job, I think they need to work smarter and definitely more strategic. It shouldn’t be about volume and quantity and mass overload spray and pray - it should be about quality and making moves that matter. It should be about the music, and her as an artist, not who she’s seeing and sleeping with now. They need to brush up on the media prep and media training for sure before any ops or big press tour undertakings. They took a massive jump and risk this go on a sophomore release/campaign and they lost a bit. It’s in the numbers. You can’t dispute that. Coming off COVID pandemic, it’s going to be interesting to see how the industry shakes out, let alone how labels shift perspectives here. They had to have dropped massive bank on this album and tour support, and there’s not a lot of real returns. In talks of touring/rescheduling - building avails are going to be few and far between with everyone wanting to reschedule PLUS need to take into consideration there are already tours that have booked out dates for the next two years or have dates on hold with buildings that we don’t even know about yet. It’ll become do you tour even at all at this point, do you do abbreviated swings meaning fewer cities/more compact routing based off avails, do you push to 2021/2022 where there may be better avails but risk the fact it’s so far out from album release that is it even worth it/relevant at this point, do you shift from arenas to sheds/amps/outdoor spaces and you need to factor in the economic impacts of it all.

#anon #getting on my PR soapbox #cause publicists don't stop working #Anonymous

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tivaholic4 · 4 years

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NCIS High School: Chapter Seven:

Tony made it through movie critique but he wasn’t paying much attention. He kept looking at Ziva trying to figure out how to fix things between them. She had moved away from him, sitting across the room. It was the first day and he already messed things up. The bell rang signaling it was time for school to be over. He watched as Ziva walked out of the room and headed down the hallway. He ran to catch up with her.

“Ziva!” He yelled after her, not caring who looked his way. Ziva kept on walking as if she never heard him. He ran faster. He finally made it up to her and moved to stand in front of her. He was out of breath as he spoke.

“Wait, please. Just listen. You don’t have to say anything, just please listen to what I have to say. If you don’t like it then feel free to slap me or something. Please just listen to my explanation.” When Ziva stood still, silently signaling for him to continue.

“Yes. I slept with her. Yes, it was at a party, and yes I’m known in this school for being a skirt chaser.” Ziva huffed and moved to walk away. Tony gently grabbed her arm and pulled her back to look at him. She could see the unshed anger at himself in his eyes.

“Please. But you’re different. As soon as I saw you, you seemed different. Special even. I don’t know what it is about you, but I didn’t want to get to know you because I wanted to sleep with you. I wanted to get to know you because you seem like such a...I don’t know the words to describe you. I just feel this connection with you that I’ve never had with anybody else.” He smiled at her, looking into her beautiful brown eyes.

“I want to be your friend if you’ll let me. I never meant to hurt you, Ziva. I guess I’ll see you around.” With that, he walked away. He didn’t want to hear her rejection. He couldn’t handle that. He turned around to see her walking towards her house. He wished he could give her a ride home. He would gladly skip practice if it meant he got to spend time with her. He looked at his watch and noticed that he needed to be at the gym and meet Tim. He walked through the hallway and saw Tim leaning next to the door, glaring through the window at who he presumed to be Sacks and Langer.

“Hey man, sorry I’m late. I had to do something.” Tim looked at him with a question in his eyes.

“Did it have to do with Ziva?” Tony looked down at the ground.

“Yeah. She’s not happy with me. I just went to talk to her, to try to make things right. I don’t know Tim. She probably hates me.” Tim slightly nodded.

“Just give it time, Tony. It’s her first day. She’s probably overwhelmed with classes and Jeanne with her lackeys. She just needs time.” Tony nodded, he was probably right and he wasn’t making things easier.

“What are they up too?” He wanted to change the subject. Needed to get Ziva out of his mind, at least for now. He looked through the window and saw the two guys picking on a geek in the bleachers.

“Alright, here’s the plan. I got to go get changed or Fornell will have my head. I’ll meet you back here and we’ll go in. Keep an eye on Dorneget. Don’t let him end up like Jimmy.” Tim nodded and turned back toward the door, looking through the window. Tony made his way to the locker room and got changed into his practice uniform. The number 8 on the front and back with “Gibbs” written on the back. He changed into his sneakers and made his way back to Tim. Tim’s jaw was clenched as he walked up to him.

“What’s going on?” Tim looked his way.

“We need to go in.” Just then they saw Sacks land a punch to Dorneget’s gut. Tony and Tim opened the door to the gym and made their way over to them. Tony put his hand on Sacks’ shoulder and pushed him away from Dorneget. Sacks looked up and laughed.

“Well if it isn't the liar. Heard you changed. All because of some girl. Why does that not surprise me?” Tony’s jaw clenched. Nobody would talk about Ziva like that.

“Look, we're not here to fight. We just want to talk.” The bullies laughed. Dorneget saw his opening and fled the gym, running as if his life depended on it.

“Come on, Tony. We beat up chumps like him.” Sacks took a step forward. Tony didn’t back down. Langer was evil eyeing Tim. Tony was somewhat uneasy about bringing Tim into all this. Tim was one of the geeks in the school, just like Jimmy, just like Dorneget. Tony wanted to stop this before they came near either him or Abby.

“You gotta stop this, Slacks. Nobody else needs to get hurt. You two need to grow up.” The boys laughed, Sacks took another step forward. He was right in Tony’s face.

“Or you’ll do what?” Sacks grinned. Tony was about to say something when a foot came through the two of them and crashed into Sacks’ gut. Sending him to the ground. Langer went over and tried to help him up, which was actually making things worse. Tony and Tim looked behind them to see Ziva standing there with a smirk on her face. Tony smiled at her, she looked his way and gave him a slight nod. Tony’s smile somewhat left his face and he turned away from her, facing the bullies who were still on the ground.

“Come near Palmer, Dorneget, or anybody else and we're coming for you.” The boys finally stood up and ran off the other side of the gym. Tim gave Tony a pat on the back and went to get his backpack. He walked out with a smile and wave, directed at him and at Ziva. Tony turned around to see Ziva still standing there. She was looking around at the players warming up. Tony took a small step closer to her.

“Thank you..for helping. You didn’t have to do that.” She actually took the step closer to him this time.

“I remembered what you said at lunch and figured I would come and help.” Tony smiled.

“That was one mean kick. Are you like a ninja or something?” Ziva let out a small laugh.

“You could say that.” She looked up into his eyes and she couldn’t help his earlier words run through her head. She felt he was telling her the truth earlier, she felt she could try to trust him. She still couldn’t get over that wrench earlier. She was glad the school day was over. Now she could go home to her mother, finish putting away things from boxes, and eat dinner.

“I better get home. It has been a long day and we still have things to unpack. I will see you tomorrow.” She turned to leave when Tony finally spoke up.

“I could drive you home. It’s dark out and now I know you can handle yourself, but I can give you a ride. My house is down that way.” Ziva bit her lip, something Tony found memorizing.

“I do not know Tony. I am still not sure…”

“There’s nothing to it. Just a ride home.” She looked in his eyes, considering her options. Her feet were already killing her, but even though Tony seemed that he was honest, she wasn’t too sure about him, but she agreed in the end anyway.

They both made their way to his car. Tony opened the door for her and she gave him a slight smile and climbed in. Tony went around to his side of the car and hopped in. He turned the key and the engine roared to life. They set off towards her house and turned the radio on. They rode in silence as Tony didn’t want to upset her further and Ziva didn’t know what to say to him. They pulled into her driveway not even 10 minutes later. He got out before she could and opened her door for her. She slightly smiled at this action. Abby had come up to her earlier and they talked in the hallway after school ended. She talked all about how Tony was such a cool guy and how much he had talked about her in the last two days. She decided she would give him another chance.

He walked her to her door and was about to leave when Ziva put her hand on his shoulder.

“Would you like to come in?” He looked at her with shock in his eyes. After all that happened today, she was inviting him into her home? He thought over it for a second. Now that he knew she was a ninja was she going to kill him? After a few seconds of silence, he agreed with a nod of his head.

“Sure. I just have to tell my parents where I am.” Ziva gave a small smile, again his insides twisted. She nodded and went inside to tell her mother that Tony was coming in. Tony pulled out his phone from his back pocket and pressed on the group message between his family.

Tony: At Ziva’s. Won’t be home till later.

Within 30 seconds, his mother had replied.

Mom: Okay. We had leftovers for dinner. Will be in the fridge when you get home.

Tony: Sounds good. Some things happened at school today that need to be cleared up. Should be home within the next hour or so.

Tim was the one who responded to that.

Tim: Yeah, she seemed kind of off earlier. Is everything okay?

Tony sighed. He wouldn’t explain this to his family. It was between him and Ziva. Nobody else.

Tony: Yeah. See ya soon.

He put his phone back into his pocket. He looked up to see that Ziva had returned from inside with two cups in her hand. He took it with a smile.

“Thanks.” She nodded and started walking over to the right of the deck where there was a porch swing hanging from the roof. She sat down and motioned for him to sit with her. He moved over cautiously and sat down to the right of her. The reflection from the street lights were making her glow and he could barely breathe as he looked at her. After five minutes of silence, Ziva turned to face him and brought her legs up to sit crisscrossed.

“I owe you an apology.” She finally spoke. Her voice was so gentle that he barely heard her. He looked her in the eye and physically melted at the sight she was giving him. This beautiful girl was looking at him with those beautiful brown eyes. He couldn’t help but melt. But her words rang through his head.

“Why do you owe an apology? It should be me apologizing. After everything today, I just made it harder. It was your first day in a new place. I just made everything worse.” Ziva sat her mug down on the floor of the deck and turned to look at him.

“No. I assumed so much about you when I barely knew you. For that is why I am sorry.” Tony looked down into his mug.

“You had every right to assume. I don’t have the best reputation around school. Something I wish I could change. Something I’m working on.” Ziva’s eyebrows raised as she listened to him.

“So the girl that came up to you in the gym, was right? You did sleep with her?” Tony slightly nodded, ashamed of himself that he used to be like that. But, he wasn’t like that anymore. He told all his friends that and he would continue to do so. He wanted to be a better person, a better man. Someone that Ziva approved of. Someone that Rivka approved of.

“We were at a party and we were drinking. It got out of hand.” He still couldn’t look her in the eye.

“That is not my business, Tony. I went underboard with my reaction today.” Tony chuckled. Ziva looked at him with confusion written on her face.

“What?”

“I think you mean overboard. But you had every right too. You weren’t clear of my intentions. Not that I have any intentions. Cause I don’t.” Ziva started laughing at his rambling and her laugh made him stop talking. Her laughter made him smile a genuine smile. “I was raised to suspect everybody. To never trust. I was terrified because I trusted you so easily. My father would not have approved.” Tony was confused, why would her father not be approved. It was like Ziva read his mind.

“My father was... a part of a government agency. In his line of work, you learn not to trust easily.” Tony understood that. After all, his mother was the director of a federal agency and his father was a lead agent there.

“Yeah. I understand that.” Ziva’s eyebrows drew together, asking him through her eyes if he would explain. Tony could read it so clearly that it was almost like he was a mind-reader.

“My parents work for NCIS.” Recognition flew across Ziva’s face. Her father had talked about NCIS before. How they were seemingly good people who worked for a seemingly good agency. She couldn’t remember what NCIS was or what they did, but if her father knew them then it had something to do with his line of work.

“NCIS.” She whispered.

“Yeah. The Naval Criminal Investigative Service. A lot of people actually haven’t heard of it. Dad always jokes about how they're the lowest in the food chain.” He let out a chuckle. Ziva stared at his handsome face as he laughed. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe trusting others wasn’t such a horrific thing. Maybe he could be trusted. Ziva had always been good at reading people, well except Tony earlier. But from what he told her when school was over, she could practically feel the truth radiating off of him. She decided that from now on, she would listen to him more clearly, and hopefully, they could become closer. She had a feeling that they would get a lot closer than she ever expected. But instead of feeling scared, she felt excited. She was looking forward to that.

Seeing that Ziva was lost in thought, Tony found the chance to take another look at her. God, she was beautiful. He couldn’t say or think that enough. She looked like she was glowing in the moonlights and he felt privileged to be able to look at her like this. He felt earlier that she was different from other girls and he knew that that was true in every imaginable way possible.

She was different. And now so was he.

#NCIS #Ziva David #Tony DiNozzo #Leroy Jethro Gibbs #Tim McGee #Abby Sciuto #Jenny Shepard #Donald Mallard #Jimmy Palmer

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i-got-these-words · 5 years

Note

If you’re still taking requests, could you do a flirty phone convo ft. HT and MGS?? You write so good though sooo you can do whatever you like!!! I know I’ll love it!! *hugsss*

I’m sorry, anon. I don’t know what happened…

A/N: This is a work of fiction that I pulled out of my ass. In its entirety. Procedures, regulation and jargon included. There is, however, a glossary of terms at the end of this post that tries to make sense of things.

I love hearing your thoughts, so leave me a comment! ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pit was swathed in layers of slumber, the overhead lights set low as the night approached its darkest hour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected during the third shift, but this was not it. The silence was unsettling, bordering on sinister.

The soft click of keys. The steady hum of computer fans. The stop-and-start stutter of a colleague snoring in a darkened corner.

Soon after he’d punched in, he’d dealt with two PIs and a neighbourly disturbance. But fuck all since. And the stillness was making his skin crawl.

It was nearing three am, though, and he was due a break. He was about to swivel round in the high-back chair to clear it with his dispatch supervisor when his phone monitor lit up. The emergency line.

Adjusting his headset, he picked up the call and immediately turned his attention to the mapping system on the central screen as it tried to triangulate the caller’s location.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” Guan Shan said into the mouthpiece, frowning slightly when the mapping system sputtered its failure to ping the cellular device.

A rupture of ragged breathing abraded his right ear.

“Nine-one-one,” he repeated, wondering what the statistics were on perverts prank-calling emergency services.

A throaty moan adjourned the breathless rasping, sounding wet and wounded.

“What is the location of your emergency?” Guan Shan tried again, more urgent this time.

What the fuck?

Two weeks post training and initiation, Guan Shan’s most exciting call yet had been a GTA that had lasted all of ten minutes – casualties: nil. Although a desk job was not the endgame, moonlighting as a 911 operator whilst he studied for the EMT license exam would help cushion the blow the paramedic training fees were going to deliver to his malnourished bank account.

Running the ATL on the mapping system again, Guan Shan quickly scanned the screen to his left. The list of incoming calls to the county’s PSAP were sparse, a Code Red notably absent.

Just as he inhaled, readying himself to reiterate his opening line, a clamorous clatter rang in his ear, followed by a series of sibilant curses.

“Hello?” The voice at the other of the line, smooth as silk and husky like cigarette smoke, was distinctly male.

Guan Shan ignored the way the fine hairs at his nape prickled. “Sir, what is your emergency?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of an emergency a man at death’s door constitutes.” All facts and no filler. “He’s fucked.” The words were enunciated on a knife’s edge. And sent a chill to the hollow of Guan Shan’s spine.

But Guan Shan had shed blood, sweat and snot over the Emergency Management and Communications modules and there was no fucking way this dickhead was going to throw him off.

“What is your location?” Fingers flying over his primary keyboard, Guan Shan pulled up the live rota on unengaged EMT vehicles. Due to recent cutbacks, there were plenty of ambulances but not enough crew. “Sir?”

A withering exhale. “You’ll have to track the phone. Somewhere in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where.”

Guan Shan ground his teeth, suppressing a sour retort – partly irked by the man’s unhelpful response and deliberate disregard, and partly irked by how erotic he sounded with said disregard. In particular, the way he said ‘fuck’ with the faint, fluid hint of a high-bred accent made Guan Shan’s ears heat up.

“What can you see around you? Any landmarks?” Guan Shan asked as he launched the medical emergencies algorithm, the rapid click-click-click of the plastic keys matching the speed of his heart, beat for beat. He’d never managed a critically-unstable casualty outside of a simulation before.

“Desert. Dirt. A beat-up truck.” Pause. “A bleeding man on his last breath.”

“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

A soft sound in Guan Shan’s ear suggested a smirk. “Depends. Which would you rather: death by exsanguination or asphyxiation?”

The shit? “Ex-excuse me?”

The man lowered his voice to a tortured pitch and Guan Shan tensed in his seat. “There’s a gaping, toothless grin where his neck used to.”

Fucking-A.

Trepidation torched Guan Shan’s nerves as sawdust filled his mouth. “Who did that to him?” Was the perpetrator on the premises? Was the RP in danger? Or did Guan Shan have a homicidal psycho on the line?

A moment passed, the only sound in Guan Shan’s ear the slow, even breaths of a man who wasn’t used to being questioned.

“How green are you, rookie? There’s only me and this shithead for miles in every direction.”

“Tell me.” Guan Shan hissed. Tell me what you did, you arrogant prick. And then tell me where you are so I can unleash a squad on your ass.

“I slit his throat,” the raw edge to the voice was savage.

“Why –” Guan Shan clamped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence escaped. Fuck almighty. With brisk taps, he alerted EMS and the sheriff’s office of the Code Red: Assault in Progress.

He needed a location.

“What is this, couple’s therapy?” The man sneered. “Why does anyone kill?”

Guan Shan’s gaze flickered back to the central monitor; the mapping system was still struggling to pick up a cell signal.

“Duty,” the man started, tongue rolling tenderly over the ‘t’ like a lover. “Derangement. Or self-defence.”

Derangement. Without a fucking doubt.

“Where the hell are you?” Guan Shan whispered, more to himself, fists clenching briefly over his keyboard before he resumed typing again.

“I thought you were tracking the phone?” The almost-stammer in the man’s voice was so slight Guan Shan nearly missed it.

What was that? Fear? Exhaustion?

“I’m trying.” Guan Shan insisted, sending an SOS message to his dispatch supervisor. “But accuracy relies on a number of factors: the model of the phone, signal strength –”

“Figures,” the man interrupted. “It’s a burner. Production lines probably dried up last century. He doesn’t have anything else on him.”

“What about your own phone?”

“He took all my shit. Dumped it en route.”

Growing more confused, Guan Shan pressed his lips together and back-pedalled to triage. “Are you hurt?”

A throaty chuckle. “I’m not dead or dying. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Mother of fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this dickhead.

Guan Shan startled as a hand landed on his shoulder – it was his supervisor. Muting the line, Guan Shan indicated the spazzing mapping system. “I can’t get coordinates.”

With a grim look, his supervisor took in the electronic log, the Code Red alert, and said, “I’ll work location from my pod. You stay on intel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guan Shan acknowledged the order with a dip of his head and unmuted the call. “Help me out here. I can’t dispatch a unit to fuck-knows-where,” he muttered into his mouthpiece, a cold bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “How’s the other guy doing?”

“Still twitching.” The words were choppy, the inflection flat. ��Listen.” The man heaved a deep sigh, sounding tired and battle-torn. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the last twenty or so hours. And nothing to eat for longer than that. I haven’t slept since fuck knows when. I used the last of my reserves to take this shithead out.” An audible swallow. “I’m tired. And dehydrated. And furious as all fuck. But when his buddy realises something’s up, he’s gonna hightail it to this godforsaken dry land and fuck me up.” An amused chortle tickled Guan Shan’s ear. “And all I got is a rusty switchblade and shitty night vision. Plenty of fucks to give, but not enough juice to fuel ’em.”

Guan Shan’s mouth went from dry to arid.

No way.

No fuckin–

“Who are you?” Guan Shan asked, sounding much calmer than he felt, fingers poised over the keys that would spell the RP’s name out.

The man didn’t need to say it; Guan Shan already knew. Should have known the minute the man had spoken. Not because his face had been on every news station in the country for the last three days. Nor because of his high-profile status. ‘Plenty of fucks to give…’ But because of one rainy night with no cab in sight, an exclusive bar that begrudgingly provided shelter, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that kept on tipping.‘ … but not enough juice to fuel ’em.’

A night that should have been forgettable, but wasn’t. Touches that should have remained anonymous, but hadn’t. Masks of sultry indifference that should have stayed in place, but had slipped, slipped, slipped.

Two years on, and every rainstorm was sweet torment on Guan Shan’s senses; a reminder of a night that shouldn’t have happened, of a risk he shouldn’t have taken.

“He Tian,” came the haggard reply. “My father is the state prosecutor.”

Grabbing his radio gear, Guan Shan hit the transmission button and barked, “This is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five, Delta Havana, do you copy? Over.”

A sizzle of static burst through the radio’s speaker. “Delta Havana receiving. Over.”

“The twelve-nine on the Code Red is a twelve-one. Over.”

“Repeat dispatch. Over.”

“The Code Red is a twelve-one. I repeat, the Code Red –” Guan Shan dropped the radio-speak “– is the Chief Prosecutor’s son. Immediate threat to life. Over.”

“Ten-four. Do we have a location? Over.”

Fuck. “In progress. Over.”

“Ten-four. Standing by. Over.”

He Tian laughed a little, but the sound was a dry and ragged thing. “That was… kinda hot, rookie.”

“Look, we’re gonna find you.” Sifting through the notes he had taken so far, Guan Shan said, “You mentioned a truck.”

“Yeah,” He Tian replied wryly. “But I can’t drive stick.”

Had the circumstances been different, Guan Shan might have rolled his eyes. “The suspect picked this specific location. It isn’t random. He would have needed to find his way back. Is there a navigation system in the vehicle?”

He Tian hummed in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check.” There was a rustle of movement, punctuated by a pained grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Shit. He was hurt. Running only on adrenaline, it wouldn’t be long before He Tian crashed.

“Take it easy,” Guan Shan instructed. “And stay on the line. How many accomplices does the suspect have?”

“I only ever saw one other guy. He wanted to give my dad another day to cough up the ransom. But this shithead here said he was done babysitting.” An obnoxious creak of unoiled hinges screeched into Guan Shan’s ear. “Brought me here to put a bullet in my head.”

As Guan Shan fed the information electronically to the police coordinator, he added the relevant codes to indicate armed perps and firearms at the scene.

“Fuck yeah, rookie. Good call.” He Tian chuckled. “There’s a marked map here. And a Gatorade.”

With He Tian relaying the approximate longitude and latitude over the phone, Guan Shan was able to zero in on a location on the mapping system. He picked up his radio phone.

“Delta Havana, this is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five. Over.”

“Go ahead, Oscar. Over.”

“We need to mobilise a chopper. Over.”

“Ten-four. What are the coordinates? Over.”

Once he’d rattled them off, Guan Shan sent an urgent message to his dispatch supervisor to authorise his request for air support; it was the quickest and safest way to reach that far in the desert this time of the night.

The mapping system refreshed itself and a green dot appeared on the screen, zinging its way to the red dot in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where. ETA seven minutes.

“He Tian,” Guan Shan began, “there’s a helicopter on its way.”

But He Tian appeared distracted. “Uh-huh.”

“I still need you to stay on the line til –” A deafening bang blasted through the headset. “Fuck! What was that? He Tian?” Right ear ringing, Guan Shan checked that the call hadn’t dropped. “He Tian?”

Fuckfuckfuck.

He slammed down the transmitter button on his radio. “Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five to Echo Gold, do you copy? Over.”

“Echo Gold receiving. Over.”

“Shots fired.” Fffuuuckk. “I repeat, shots fired.”

“Ten-four. We’re still in the air. Do you still have comms with the RP? Over.”

Guan Shan worked the muscles in his jaw. “Negative,” he whispered.

Fucking shit.

The helicopter was still three minutes out. And that was assuming they’d find the right location straight away. And a suitable place to land.

Running tremulous hands through his hair, Guan Shan stopped himself from wreaking havoc on the curved desk and the console before him.

So close, he thought. We were so fucking close.

A soft murmur in his ear had Guan Shan stilling. “He Tian?”

Another pained grunt. Oh sweet fuck.

“Sorry,” He Tian said, his voice like smoked honey. “I dropped the phone. I told you I couldn’t fucking drive stick. I think… I think the engine backfired.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. Fully aware that the audio was being recorded, and the transcript may be used in evidence, he let out a low growl, laden with chocked emotion. “You owe me another Johnnie Walker, you dickhead.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary ~

PI: Public Intoxication

GTA: Grand-theft auto

EMT: Emergency Medical Technician

RP: Reporting person

ATL: Attempt to locate

PSAP: Public-safety answering point; a call centre dedicated to handling the emergency telephone number(s) for police, firefighting, and ambulance services.

EMS: Emergency Medical Service

12-9: Assault in progress

12-1: Kidnapping

10-4: Understood

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Comms: Communication

#19 days #19 days fic #tianshan #mo guan shan #he tian #19 days fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #911 au #ask-box

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