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heartofsnark · 3 years

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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Seven): Flying Towards An Early Grave

Notes: Still posting my little backlog, I will warn in advanced, the next chapter is the heist (finally) AND IT IS A CHONKER, but for now have a little appetizer with some fun times, smut, and foreshadowing!~

Word Count: 10860

Chapter Warnings: heavy foreshadowing, food, blowjobs, groping, protected vaginal sex, car sex

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

V’s body is heavy as she gets to her apartment door, ready to curl up into bed and call it a day. She’s exhausted with adrenaline gone. She presses her thumb to the panel. The little intercom doorbell is also the lock, scanning and searching for SID validation. It takes a moment to scan, it seems to be lagging more lately.

Calling.

The intercom says it’s calling, why is it calling? She can hear the automated ringing and her lights inside are probably flashing. It only does this if the SID doesn’t match the apartment owner’s, assuming them a guest. V presses again.

Calling.

She presses harder.

Calling.

She tries her entire hand.

Calling.

She kicks her door, a heavy sound as her boot collides with it. That doesn’t help with the lock, but it makes her feel a little better. Just what she needs; bloody, sore, and locked out of her apartment for who fucking knows why? Her stomach growls as she pulls up the number for building maintenance.

“Megabuilding Maintenance, how can I help?”

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” V signs, her choker translator on.

“What do you mean?”

“The lock isn’t recognizing my SID.”

“Can I get your name and apartment number?”

V gives them the details and they say they’re sending a maintenance guy. All of the services floor is nearly shut down at the late hour, her stomach growling. No doubt the maintenance guy will take his sweet fucking time, so much for getting some decent sleep. She gets a burrito, a Nicola, and a little thing of ketchup from the machines. Sitting on the ground near her door, dumping ketchup on her burrito as she eats it.

By the time the guy arrives she’s finished eating, drinking, and is a little unsure what’s dried blood versus dried ketchup on her shirt. She hops to her feet when she sees the guy walking up, a massive case of resting bitch face. V doubts he wanted to be dragged out at three am to help unlock a door, but it’s not her fault the tech fucked up.

“You V?” he asks, voice gruff and annoyed.

“Yep.”

“Hard day?” His eyebrow raises, gaze focused on her blood stained flesh and chrome.

“Work.”

“Ah… I see,” he nods, “so, what's the issue with your door?”

Night City is one of the few places where one can just admit to being a mercenary for a living, even if it did earn her an odd look. V presses her hand to the lock button again and it once again initiates a call.

“Doesn’t recognize my SID.”

“Hmm, you are V, right?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Who the fuck else would I be? The building has a picture of me on file for fucks sake.”

“Hey, hey, nowadays with enough eddies anybody can look like anybody.”

“If I had an identity worth stealing, you really think I’d be living here?”

“Fair enough, let’s check something,” he pulls out a holo tablet, jacking it into the bottom of the intercom lock, “this will show what the lock is reading it as, try again.”

V keeps an eye on his tablet as she presses her hand back to the lock and the projected information starts to show. And for a moment she sees herself; her face, her name, her information, and all the shit Vik had to set up for her to have SID. Then in a blink of an eye it glitches out and the information shifts. She watches her nearly mugshot like photo shift into that of a man, with short dark hair and dark eyes. V [REDACTED] becomes Robert John Linder. Birthdate shifting from November 12th, 2056 to November 16, 1988. Birthplace shifting from Seven Devils, North Carolina to College Station, Texas.

Who the hell is this old man?

“Looks like it’s reading your SID chip as someone else's, strange, any chance you’ve been spiked by a ‘runner?”

“No, even if I was, not sure why they’d want to make my SID register to some senior citizen.”

“Weird, can’t think of how else this would happen? Seems like it starts to read your chip and then changes to this guy’s. Do you know him?”

“Don’t hang around old folks homes too much, actually. Just some random dude to me.”

“Hmmm.”

“I can promise you, I’m not a ninety year old cowboy man.”

“Somehow I noticed that, actually… looks like the guy is dead.”

“What?”

“Mmhmm, scroll down a bit and there’s the date his death certificate was issued,” the guy shows her, “you’ll probably need to have your SID looked at, see what’s wrong with it. For now, I can unlock it for you and have them add whoever this guy is to registered owners, so, you won’t be locked out until you fix it.”

“Fine, I guess.”

“But that does mean if this guy’s ghost decides to pop in for a visit, lock won’t stop him,” the man jokes, offering the first smile since he’s been here.

“Somehow I’ll handle it, thanks for the help, and if it’s not too much trouble can you forward me the details of that SID info?”

“Sure, no problem,” the maintenance man’s eyes glow and she can feel the very soft warmth and whirr of her neuroplant as it accepts the file.

She gives one final thanks as he unlocks her apartment and she’s finally able to step foot inside. Thankfully her door locks behind her and she makes a beeline for her shower, scrubbing blood and sweat from her skin; finding bruises, cuts, and flesh wounds she hadn’t noticed in the midst of fighting.

It takes her a little longer than expected to wind down for the night, the merc putting in her optic contacts and playing with the bot. Looking through its eyes, she has it twist and climb all throughout her apartment, making herself dizzy until she falls out of bed and bangs her head against the floor. Finally, putting the cute spider looking tech away when she feels the knot starting to form on her head. Then, setting her alarm and sleeping for the night.

V is still tired when her alarm vibrates beneath her pillow, waking her up as the sunlight streams in from her large window, warming her skin. She checks her phone, double checks the time and that Dex hasn’t sent the car for her yet. The young merc rushes through her morning routine; showering, brushing her teeth, dressing, and taking her medication with some Chromanticore in hopes of getting some energy back.

She’s out the door and has her mask on in a matter of minutes, phone buzzing with the message that Dex’s car is waiting for her. As she comes down the steps of her building she sees the same limousine and bodyguard waiting outside of it. But this time when he opens the door for her, there is no Dex, nobody. Chills creep their way up her spine, but she gets in nonetheless, sinking into the leather backseat as Dex’s guard starts to drive them away.

The guard is quiet, doesn’t explain where they’re going or why, V has a feeling he wouldn’t tell even if she asked. So, she doesn’t. Only the radio drones on, a mixture of news and occasional pop music from bands and singers she doesn’t know or care to know; an anouncer coming over the radio to speak somberly.

“Today marks the fifty-fourth anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower. Fifty-four years ago a group of terrorists stormed Arasaka Tower and detonated a bomb, which forever changed the history of our dear city. Devastating the lives of millions; thousands dying in the initial attack and more perishing in the aftermath as well. Today we ask for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in this senseless act of violence so many years ago….:”

A beat of silence, barely a moment, then the high energy voice returns.

“Now, after this short music break, we return with the heartwarming story of Stumpy, the three legged puppy who’s gone viral after the use of veterinary cyberware has given the pup a new lease on life!~”

V rolls her eyes, sounds about right, barely a moment for something so somber. No real grief or empathy, time to move on to a cute puppy because that keeps people happy and listening. She watches the city around her change, spotting the Valentino graffiti starting to cover the buildings and that they’re entering Heywood. She sends a heads up text to Jackie, letting him know they’re not far from his house.

A short moment after, the driver is parking outside Jackie’s garage and she watches the older merc walking out. The guard opens the limousine back door and Jackie relaxes when he sees V, climbing into the seat next to her.

“Hey, V, you figure out what’s going on?”

“Was sort of hoping you had…”

“Asked T-Bug, said it’s a surprise.”

“Not sure I like Bug’s idea of surprises.”

“Hey, hombre,” Jackie calls out to the guard as he starts to drive them away, “mind telling us where we’re headed?”

They’re met with silence, because of they are. V nervously wrings her hands as she watches for signs of where they’re going based on the passing scenery.

“Has to be something to do with prepping for the job, just wish I knew what.”

“Speaking of which, you got the bot on you?”

“Yeah, brought it just in case and if Bug’s there she’ll want to take a look. Wonder if there’s any chance of keeping the Flathead after this?”

She knows Dex said it’s a single use toy, but...who knows, maybe she could somehow keep it afterwards.

“Why’s that?”

“Its cute.”

“You think a military grade combat bot is cute?”

“It's a little spider.”

“You find the weirdest shit cute, I swear.”

“It is cute!”

“It’s-” Jackie looks out the window, “shit are we in Corpo Plaza?”

“Maybe we’re just passing through?”

As if only to prove her wrong, the limousine parks outside a store on Senate Avenue, the bright sign says Jinguji. Even looking through the window, it looks entirely like a place that her and Jackie do not belong. Brightly lit, immaculately clean with fancy designer clothes on display.

“We’re here,” the guard tells them and the doors open with the press of a button.

V and Jackie share a look before getting out of the limousine, standing before the Jinguji store like deers stuck in headlights.

“Dex can’t be serious, Jinguji?” Jackie says, scratching at the shaved underneath of his hair.

“Looks…. Fancy.”

“Corp store, designer; a sock in there will cost you a few thousand eddies.”

“I know he says we need to play corpo, but… I don’t know, it feels weird.”

“I’m sure Dex knows what he’s doing. But, uh, you gotta take off the mask, chica.”

“What, why?”

“‘Cause its fucking Jinguji, they’re not gonna let you through the door looking like that.”

“You’re one to talk, you got a ketchup stain on your shirt.”

“Firstly, that’s blood. Secondly, you’re a wearing a jacket you stole off a dead guy last week.”

“Not like he needs it!”

“Jackie, V!” A voice yells out, drawing the merc’s attention into the doorway of the store, T-Bug in realspace, wearing a black netrunning suit, “would you gonks stop bickering and get in here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the mercs speak and sign in unison, falling the netrunner into the corp store.

There’s a large lit up advertisement at the back of the store. Gold decor dripping down from the ceiling, plush white couches, and an ice bucket with champagne. To her surprise, there’s no other shoppers within the store. A man in a tailored designer suit sits at the desk, greeting the two mercs as they walk in.

“Welcome to Jinguji, an oasis of elegance!~”

V gives an awkward nod and wave. She’s not sure what else to do. She doesn’t belong here; she knows that much. A dirty black leather jacket under the bright lights and old raggedy boots on shiny polished floors. The merc wants nothing more than to run out of the store, some of the clothes she sees displayed are nice, if she’s being honest. A few bit tacky for her taste, but others are cute or sexy with dramatic flair, but nothing she would ever really have a reason to wear.

“Mind telling us why the fuck we’re here, Bug?” Jackie asks and the netrunner chuckles.

“To get into Konpeki, you two will have to look the part. Rather than blindly guessing what will fit, Dex is flitting the bill and getting you both some corpo threads,” T-Bug explains, taking a seat on on of the couches.

“Where is everyone?”

“Store is rented out for the next couple hours, discretion. V, did you bring the bot?”

“Got it in my bag.”

“Lemme see, got to make sure it’s in working shape.” V puts the bot down on the table, T-Bug opening the case and looking over the bot, running diagnostics that the merc can’t begin to understand,

“Right this way, you two, I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for both of you,” the man who greeted them, grabs their attention again, “but it would be easier, if I have a full idea of your features, miss.”

“Told you,” Jackie taunts and V elbows him in the side, slowly taking off her mask and she feels bare. And she knows people have seen her face before, but this is work and it just feels… wrong.

“Wonderful, so we’ll begin with the gentlemen, I think you’ll find we have a wonderful array of fine suits in our men’s department.”

The man, who’s fancy name tag says Zane, shows them a vast collection of suits. They range from slick classic black ones, deep navy blues, florals, brights, embroidered, and every color she can imagine. Its hard to imagine the big merc in any of them. She’s always seen him in muscle shirts or his favorite red and black jacket. His eyes seem to land on a red suit with gold detailing.

“Well-”

“Point is to blend in, not stand out, Jack,” T-Bug calls out, scolding him without having to even look at him or his choice in suit.

“Just black then.”

“Wise choice, sir, our tailors will get your measurements and get the perfect fit for you.”

Another employee guides Jackie to a fitting room and V feels the sudden urge to sink into the ground, Zane’s attention now solely on her. She scratches at her cheek and flips on her choker translator.

“Now, what about you? We have plenty of formal options in women’s fashion as well. A more androgynous business suit or perhaps a dress?”

She’s shown mannequins dressed in tight body con dresses with various necklines, materials, colors, and a few well fitted pants suits. Her eyes are drawn to the dresses, if she’s being honest. She has a rather small collection of skirts and dresses, for off days, but she never has a chance to wear anything more formal than a sundress or mini skirt over leggings. These dresses are dramatic, gorgeous; some with mesh inlays or cut outs.

But, like Bug said; they’re there to blend in, not stand out. This isn’t an outfit for fun but for work and if something goes wrong, the last thing she needs is this going to shit and having to battle in a tight constricting dress or too high of heels.

“I think a pants suit in black would be best; keep it simple.”

“Understood.”

V taken to a fitting room, given the chance to put on the ready to buy pantsuits in privacy. A stark white button up blouse, black blazer, and black slacks. And she knows immediately it will need to be tailored to suit her; the pants longer than her legs and the shirt loose around her chest. The tailor comes in after a moment and begins measuring, marking where things need to be taken in and raised. V left trying not to get embarrassed each time the measuring tape is wrapped around a part of her.

“Is there a way to make the blazer sleeves easier to roll up?” She signs once her arms are done being measured. The material is stiffer and harder to get tight around her elbows when trying; she wants her Mantis Blades easily used.

“Hmm, lets see, maybe it’d be best to use it more like an accessory rather than wearing it properly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could just wear it over your shoulders like a cape,” the woman drapes it that way across V’s shoulders.

“Not my thing.”

“Then you can carry it, like this,” the woman shows holding the jacket back over her shoulder with her fingers hooked in it’s collar. It looks alright, casual enough, though having a jacket and not wearing it still reads as strange to the merc.

“I’ll consider that.”

“It can also help keep you cool. Now, lets talk about makeup, hair, and shoes.”

V listens and nods as the woman gives recommendations; getting V a pair of low heeled black synthetic leather shoes. Then going into advice on hair; recommending french twist, a bun, or a low ponytail depending on how formal V wants to go. The woman recommends simple classic makeup styles and a few other tips for the merc to meet her full corpo potential. Finally, with measurements, adjustments, and everything marked; V is allowed to change back into her street clothes. She leaves the room, seeing Jackie already in his regular clothes again and sitting next to T-Bug.

“We have all the measurements down and will begin altering the clothes immediately.”

“Good,” T-Bug confirms with Zane, “remember we need them finished and delivered to The Afterlife by five.”

“I assure you, our tailors are already on it.”

“V,” T-Bug calls out when she sees the short merc, “got something for you.”

V sits down on the couch, watching as T-Bug sets out a pair of white hearing aids. They’re designed like her normal ones, just more boring.

“Hearing aids? I already have those.”

“These are special, optic camo. No corpo worth their salt has anything less than top of the line phonic implants, with press of a button or a thought, these will go invisible.. They’ll work just like your regular ones, but look like you’re wearing nothing. Try them out.”

She switches her blue hearing aids with the new ones, they fit well and she pushes the thought of turning the camo on. V catches her reflection in a mirror in the store, she can feel them, but see nothing.

“Perfect, no one will be any the wiser. This also means no signing or translator.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I know its not ideal, but it’s just the reality of it. Corpo types like this; lose your hearing, new implants. Vocal chords fried, get a new set in gold. Get paralyzed, new legs or entire nervous system. Go blind, new optics. They see you signing or using hearing aids, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”

“I get it.”

“No sweat, I’ll do the talking, V,” Jackie comforts her and then turns his attention to Bug, “So, what now?”

“We’ll go over the full plan this evening at The Afterlife, you two need to be there by five. We’ll talk with Dex and you’ll be in Konpeki by eight tonight, relic in hand before midnight strikes.”

“So we get to kick back and relax until five?”

“As long as you’re there by five and ready to go, I couldn’t care less what you do, Jack.”

“Said this place was rented out, right?” V asks, noticing a dramatic purple dress that reminds her of a certain tarot card reader’s favorite color.

“Yeah, why?”

“How much longer is this place reserved?”

“Another hour, maybe two and again, I ask why?”

“Ow, hell that for, chica?” Jackie looks up when V kicks him in the shin.

“Call Misty, dumbass. Buy her something nice, make a date out of it before we go on the job.” V tells him, remembering Misty’s concerns from the other night. It might ease her mind a bit to have a nice afternoon with Jackie, dress shopping and a fancy lunch in City Center. Just a chance to enjoy themselves.

“Dex is nice V, but sincerely doubt he wants to pay for Misty a new dress.”

“Oh no, if only one of us had scammed ten grand off of Militech, oh wait,” V says, pulling the Militech credchip from her bag and sees the twinkle in Jackie’s eyes.

“You serious, V?”

“Should get her a hell of a nice dress, maybe you a suit, and a nice fancy lunch; play corpo for an afternoon.”

“Shit, V,” he takes the credchip from her fingers, “what’d I do without you?”

“You two are going to make me puke,” T-Bug says, rolling her eyes while Jackie is already calling up Misty.

“Just wait until Misty gets here and the constant pet names start, you’ll really lose your lunch.”

“Ugh, more reason to get out of here, I’ll be taking the Flathead with me to keep in working shape.”

“Can I ask you something before you go?”

“Got more code you need me to check?”

“Not quite, had an issue with my SID chip last night, was wondering if there was a chance I was hacked?”

“You get spiked, jaina?” Jackie asks when he finishes chatting with Misty.

“Don’t know, couldn’t unlock my door last night, reader thought I was some old dude.”

“Hmm, SID hacks are tricky, we’re going to be using one for your covers in Konpeki. But they usually only alter your ID a bit and die after so many hours. Thing is, that wouldn’t really benefit anyone.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, I don’t think anyone would get much out of pretending I’m some ninety year old dead fuck.”

“I can jack in, see if I find anything in your soft.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

V shifts her back to T-Bug, sweeping her hair off the nape of her neck and showing her neuroports. The netrunner pushes some loose strands out of the way and slots her personal jack into V’s biomon. A few moments pass and V can feel her cheeks flushing a bit, a weird feeling to having T-Bug directly touch her and jack in to her tech. This is the first time they’ve met in person, may even be the first time Bug has seen her face.

“Everything looks clear to me, SID is registering as yours, no signs of a hack,” Bug explains, jacking out.

“Weird, maintenance guy showed last night it was showing as some dead guy.”

“Strange, must be some sort of glitch.”

“Or you’re being haunted.”

“Haha, very funny, Jackie.”

“Hello… “

A soft voice calls out and V lights up seeing Misty poking her head into the fancy luxury store, looking every bit as nervous as V had been. Jackie is up and rushing towards Misty in a heart beat, pulling her into a hug and twirling her around, kissing her head.

“You’re here, mi carina.”

“Babe,” Misty says, giggiling as she’s put back down on her feet, then steps up on her tip toes to kiss Jackie’s lips.

“Gonna puke,” T-Bug comments low under her breath and V tries not to laugh.

“V, Bug,” Misty smiles at the two, “glad I got here before you two left out.”

“What’s up?”

Jackie walks Misty over closer to them, large hand on her hip as she rummage through her purse. After a moment, she pulls out three beaded bracelets. A mixture of beads in black, gold, and blue mottled with gold. T-Bug is already raising her eyebrow and V’s not sure how well Misty’s spiritualism will go over with the runner.

“These are protection bracelets. Lapis lazuli, black tourmaline, and gold sheen obsidian. They’re all meant to help with creating a protective spiritual barrier, it should keep you all safe from negative energies and frequencies.”

“Ay, you still in knots over this, mi alma?”

“It would just make me feel better knowing you have a little more protection, babe.”

Misty slides the biggest of the bracelets onto Jackie’s wrist and he gives her a soft smile, kissing her temple before starts to give the others to V and Bug. The young merc slides it on with a smile and T-Bug takes it in hand, with a less enthusiasm.

“Thanks, Misty, I appreciate it,” V tells her and elbows T-Bug in the side, earning her a glare, but the netrunner plays nice.

“Thanks…”

“I know it’s not much, but a little protection is better than none and should keep energies bright.”

“Right….”

“Well,” V cuts in before Bug can say anything else, “we’ll be getting out of your hair, have fun you two!~”

“Thanks again, V, see you two at The Afterlife.”

Jackie waves them off, Bug packing up and V putting her usual hearing aids in their case, away in her pocket. The runner and young merc leave the store, Dex’s guard already left a while ago, so V will have to either call her car or use the public transit. Come to think of it, she’s not sure how she’s going to kill time until its game time.

“V,” Bug stops her outside Jinguji before they go their separate ways for now, “gotta ask, you really believe in that spiritual crap?”

“No, but she does and it makes her happy, so, why not?”

“I guess, if she really thinks a bracelet is going to save us from Arasaka.”

“Won’t kill you to accessorize a little, Bug.”

“Whatever you say.”

They say their goodbyes and V is left thinking again about what she wants to do to pass the time. She could do a few short gigs, but her mind is preoccupied with the heist. Ultimately, V finds herself taking the NCART to El Coyote Cojo. Mostly just because she’s bored and maybe something or someone there will occupy her time. The bar isn’t too active at the early hour and she doesn’t see Mama Welles around.

“V!” Pepe greets her when she walks through.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Same old, same old. Jaquito is still out, Senora Welles is out shopping, but Jake is taking out the trash in the back if you want to say hi.”

“I think I might go and do just that.”

Playing grab ass with one of her go to lays seems like a solid way to waste her time. V walks through the bar and out one of the backdoors that open to the alley with the dumpster. Sure enough, Jake is there tossing away a trash bag. He’s around 6’5 about as tall as Jackie, muscular, with a head of ginger hair shaved down on the shades and a thick beard.

She throws her arms around his waist, feeling the muscle underneath his shirt. He teases his fingers over her forearms, the chrome of his Gorilla Fingers cyberware sending a soft chill through her skin.

“Hey, V, new chrome?” He runs over the chrome patterns in her arms.

She hums against his back in response, not wanting to move. But, he twists in her arms. He cups her face in chromed fingers, for a moment, his browns furrow in confusion.

“No hearing aids?”

She pulls away, enough space for her to sign.

“Camouflage ones, it and the blades are necessary for the gig.”

“Oh yeah, Jackie’s been talking everyone to death about this heist you two got planned. He better be damn glad no one here’s got loose lips.” His hands drop from her face and loosely wrap around her waist, fingers starting to graze over her ass.

“Can’t blame him for being excited.”

“Hmmm and you?”

“Nervous.”

“Figured as much,” he squeezes her ass, “you looking for a distraction?”

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be letting you grope my ass in broad daylight, now would I?”

A low dry chuckle echoes in his chest and he dives in for a kiss. It’s quick and rough, his beard scratching over her skin before he pulls away. She can’t help but giggle as he pulls her back into the bar, hand still shamelessly on her ass.

“Pepe! I’m going on lunch break!”

“Yeah yeah, go on.”

“C’mon,” Jake guides her out of the bar, “lemme at least buy you lunch first.”

“You actually trying to be nice today?”

“Something like that.”

V settles into his passenger side seat as Jake climbs behind the wheel. They pull away from El Coyote Cojo, driving around Heywood and finding a drive in to go through, Burgers, fries, and pop bought; Jake finds a relatively empty place to park meanwhile V has already begun taking the pickles off her burgers.

“So, you wanna actually talk about it?” Jake asks, taking a bite of his burger.

“Not much to talk about,” she signs with salt covered fingers and a mouthful of fries, “biggest job of our career. Nerves are natural.”

Not to mention the shady client, the fact they’re robbing Arasaka, the fact they’re robbing Yorinobu specifically, the fact they have to play corpo, that V will have to force herself not to sign, and that every fiber of her being is screaming that something is going to go wrong. Then she has the weirdness of her SID chip fucking up on her mind as well.

“Yeah, but you overthink, so I know that little brain of yours is spinning in a billion directions.”

V shrugs, “No more than usual, so, what’s been going on with you?”

“Not much, been thinking of quitting the bar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, get to work the day shift so I can pick the twins up from school and spend some time with them. But, day shift in a bar basically means staring at a wall and waiting for Senora Welles to cut me a paycheck.”

“You don’t like getting paid to sit around and look pretty?”

“Not gonna lie, it’d be hard to find a boss as forgiving as Senora Welles.”

“Not every boss would let you take an hour or longer lunch just to play grab ass with me?”

“Eh, pretty sure if she knew what I was doing with her precious adopted daughter, she’d already have me fired.”

“Oh please, she’s known you longer than me.”

“Yeah, but she likes you more, you’re basically her kid and I’m her employee,” he pauses watching V roll her eyes, “you know, she’s been worrying a lot about you and Jackie, lately. She knows things are getting riskier with the merc work and-”

V quiets him with a kiss, not wanting to hear another word of this. She comes to him for a distraction. The kiss is messy and he tastes like greasy fast food, but she’s sure she’s not any better, pushing her tongue into his mouth. She cups his jaw with one hand, scratching over his beard and as he deepens the kiss, she drops her other hand into his lap. He’s already half hard in his jeans, pressing into her touch as she gropes him through the denim. Jake curses against her lips, breaking their kiss.

“You talk too much, honey,” she chastises him, a soft smile on her lips as she undoes his belt buckle, he lifts his hips, allowing space to pull his pants and boxer down just enough to get his cock out.

She pulls her legs up into her seat, on her knees so she can fully lean over the center console into his lap. V pushes hair back behind her ear and takes his dick into her mouth; not bothering to tease, swallowing around him. The taste of him on her tongue causes a heat in her center to stir, getting slick between her thighs as she bobs her head up and down. He groans as she strokes and sucks him, teasing her tongue ring along the head of his cock. The bitterness of his precum and the salt of his skin making her dizzy with need.

His chrome fingers slide across the expanse of her back, reaching out to grab her ass. He gropes and fondles her through her pants, the rough feeling of her jeans and panties being pressed against her sensitive wet folds. Jake curses as V alternates between sucking, licking, and taking him as deep into her throat as she can.

He tugs on her hair, bleached strands wrapped around chrome, pulling her mouth off him. Drool covering his cock and her lips. She pouts at him for stopping her, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. He gives her a swat on the ass, barely hard enough to sting.

“Want inside of you.”

That’s all the explanation he gives and she pulls away, thankful that the windows of his car have steamed from body heat, she begins to quickly strip off her clothes. Its clumsy as she tries to strip down in a car seat, throwing her jacket off into the back, kicking off her boots, before yanking her pants and panties down in one fluid movement. She curses herself for not wearing a skirt or something with easier access. A part of her mind recognizes how stupid she must look, still in her shirt, bra, and her socks staying on after tugging off her pants. But lust has killed her ability to think, just wanting him inside of her. Jake has rolled a condom on, but otherwise has simply watched the flustered merc strip down.

V’s easily able to jump into his lap, straddling him and having her back to the steering wheel. She steadies herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other lining his cock up with her entrance, sinking herself down onto his dick. She’s slick enough that she takes him all in one movement, both cursing out at the feeling. The stretch of his cock inside of her and the tightness of her cunt around him. Jake digs his nails into her hips and bounces her on his cock, fucking up into her. He takes complete control, setting a brutal pace that leaves V reeling with every thrust. All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and moan against his sweaty skin, accepting each harsh movement of him inside of her.

The tension inside of her grows tighter with every thrust, every smack of skin against skin like a strike of a match trying to grow a larger flame. She can’t think, can’t focus, every thought consumed with pleasure and a desire to be pushed over the edge. Bruises form on her hips where he hold her, where he uses her for pleasure. The chair of his cheap car creaks with each bounce and a few thrusts slams her lower back into the steering wheel, but she doesn’t care, couldn’t if she tried. She whines and whimpers against his skin, feeling her end nearing.

And then the tension snaps, orgasm hitting her fast and hard, she digs her nails into his skin, squirming and writhing as she moans out her pleasure. Mind a haze as she’s overwhelmed with her pleasure. He thrusts a few more times and she nearly chokes at the continued stimulation, the feeling of him fucking into her already sensitive cunt. Then he curses, bringing her hips down fully to meet his own one last time before he cums, spilling his seed inside the condom.

V rolls off of him and back into the passenger seat, hating the empty feeling Her skin is sweaty and flushed, as much she hates it, she needs to get her clothes back on. Fumbling to get her pants and panties out of the passenger side floorboard. Pulling them on and shoving her feet in her boots. V waits as Jake ties off the condom and adjusts his jeans, opening the car door and tossing the condom away into a nearby dumpster.

The Night City air feels cool compared to the heat of the car after fucking, she watches him light up a cigarette outside of the car and grimaces. He climbs back into the driver's seat, keeping the window rolled down and she makes a gagging sound as the smoke hits her nose.

“You coming back to the bar with me?” He asks, blowing smoke out of the window.

“No,” she signs, thankful the choker translator can survive sweat, “I’ll catch the train back to Watson.”

“Let strangers see you sweaty and fuck-dazed?”

“Well, it’s a good look for me.”

“Can’t really deny that, now can I.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket getting out of the car, walking away on still slightly wobbly legs. V takes the train back to Watson, fiddling with her holophone the entire way. The merc gets off at the stop closest to her megabuilding and makes her way to her apartment; lock recognizing her on the first try.

V checks the time and decides to get ready to go to The Afterlife. Those nerves she had managed to fuck away for a moment creep up on her all over again. She shakes her head not wanting to focus on her anxieties, she strips down and grabs a shower, cleaning off the sweat from her liaison.

The merc pulls her hair back in a small low-set ponytail and does her makeup to the recommendations of the stylist. She gets dressed and uses the new camouflaged hearing aids, she takes her mask with her too. Though she knows she can’t wear it into Konpeki, she’ll still be walking into The Afterlife. That thought alone twists her guts into nervous knots.

The Afterlife is the go to bar for the top of their game, Major Leagues mercs and fixers. It’s where the biggest deals are made, the easiest place to catch a drink and a job, but only mercs or fixers of a certain standard are allowed through its doors. Jackie brags about the place like it’s heaven for mercenaries. If they’re going to become regular fixtures of the bar after this, then she’d prefer to maintain her usual level of anonymity for fixers moving forward. She’ll drop the mask when they’re finally in corpo threads.

V slides on Misty’s bracelet as well, fiddling with the beads meant to provide some form of protection. Her mind goes back to Misty’s tarot card reading, while she doesn’t put much weight on it, her friend’s fortune telling often sticks with her. The Wheel of Fortune is sticking out to her; she could care less if the cards thinks she’s stupid or if she’s about to fall in love, the latter of which so ridiculous she can’t help but dismiss it. But the idea of conflict sticks out, fear of the heist going wrong has been heavy on her mind. Something always goes slightly wrong, no job is perfect. But this has the highest stakes she’s ever encountered.

V has new cyberware, the best possible tech and upgrades from Vik. She has Jackie, her best choom and partner in crime who’s never let her down. There’s T-Bug, her friend and brilliant netrunner who could bring half of Night City down if she wished. Their fixer is Dex, one of the best in regards to his job, he has everything to gain by having their backs covered. They have military grade tech and an inside look into Konpeki. They are going in under the best possible circumstances.

She has to remind herself, review this again and again, that if something goes wrong someone there should be able to take care of it. But, those nerves don’t fade even as she leaves her apartment.

The Afterlife isn’t far from V’s apartment, practically a hop and skip downtown. Barely five minutes pass before she’s under the roofed alley, nearing the club. Vivid cyan and purple graffiti across the wall, trash along the way.

“Porque ya tengo planes para esta noche!"

The voice is familiar, Jackie’s and V pressed her back to the side of the vending machine, he’s telling someone he already has plans for tonight. He sounds frustrated, like he’s on the verge of pulling his hair out.

“Virgen Santsima, ma! Te vas a enterar mañana,” a beat of silence, “también te quiero, ma."

The conversation ways on her, he’s talking to Senora Welles. Remembering Jake talking about her feelings, that the matriarch has been worrying herself half to death. And it sounds like Jackie has been on the receiving end of that worry for a while. V pulls her mask on and rounds the corner past the vending machine, stepping in front of the main entrance of The Afterlife. Her friend standing in the doorway under the harsh green light.

“Heh, about time, chica,” he greets, tucking his phone into his pocket, she catches the blue of Misty’s bracelet mingled with his usual gold ones.

“What’s going on?”

“Ehhh, y'know. She's worried about me - whatever. Can't help herself, y'know - checkin’ to see if I'm not rottin' in some dumpster… like most of the Welles boys. Been worse lately.”

“Why’s that?”

“Started climbin' our way up. Got more an' more knives out there, waitin' to stab us in the back. Higher stakes, higher risk. She can see that.”

“Look like you’re about to keel over.” V reaches out, touching the red blotches on his skin, stress and sweat inflaming his skin.

“Years of merc work, and yet, still sweat like a roasted pig when I talk to my ma. It's really startin' to wear on me. More tell her everythin's OK, more I feel like I'm straight-up lyin’.”

“Well, hopefully you had a nice date with Misty at least.”

“Went about as well as talking to my ma right now,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “for two women who don’t get along, they sure agree when it comes to worrying about me.”

“They worry because they love you, worse things in life than people giving a damn about you.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t matter none. Not anymore, Afterlife, here we come, baby!”

Jackie changes the topic and she can’t really blame him for it, rubbing his hands together and practically cheering in excitement. This is everything they’ve talked about, everything they’ve said they want. So, why does she still have a lump in her throat?

“Afterlife… we’re really here.”

“Does not get any higher, choom. And you know somethin' else? We fuckin' earned it, chica!”

“No point in standing around then, is there?’

“Ready to get your cherry popped?” he laughs leading her into the club, “Yeeeah! Come on!”

“Little late for that one, Jack,” she teases as they make their way down the stairs, a pair of double doors opening up for them. A short step down into a small hallway with mercs and fixers alike talking under the green glow of a sign bearing the club’s name.

“Place used to be a morgue - you believe that?”

“Really?”

“I know, right? Way before our time, that. When proper burials were still a thing.”

They come to another set of doors, through the small window V can see the true club main room beyond them. But a man stands guarding them, around Jackie’s height and a similar bulky build. Cyberware indented along his jawline and nose. His face is stony, eyes sharp when Jackie and V stop before him, then he puts a large hand out in front of him.

“And who might you clowns be?”

“Jackie and V,” the taller of the mercs says with a grin, “Dexter Deshawn is waitin’ on us.”

The bouncer gives them a look and V is glad for her mask helping hide her emotions. His expression is dismissive, looking down on them, making her feel all at once that she has not earned her place in this club. A baby merc, new to the city, barely six months under her belt and she’s standing at the Afterlife. How the fuck did she get here?

“Yo, Dex. Got two live ones sayin' they're here to see ya,” his optics glow as he calls Dex, “Yeah? All right, then. Says he needs a second or two. Go get yourselves drinks or somethin'.”

The doors open to a green and cyan lit club. Music louder as the barrier breaks away, people fill the room. Some sipping on alcohol and other’s puffing away on cigarettes; the smell of nicotine and booze wafting from the bar.

“Way ahead o' you, viejo,” Jackie laughs and leads the way in.

V follows him around the corner; the large bar coming into full view. It’s lit green, the same neon sign reading Afterlife at the top of it. A bartender in a blue button up slings drinks to the patrons. Floor to ceiling columns, like tubes, are places around the club each filled with water with a dancer twirling around inside with strategically place chrome clothing covering the most private parts of them. Everything is basked in that green neon light, despite being surrounded by mercs like her, she feels so completely out of place.

Jackie marches proudly across the bar floor, stride confident and unwavering.

“This is it… The heart o' Night City! That's it right there - beating. Hear it?” he proclaims as they pass by rows of half closed off booths, “Can you imagine? Susan Forrest, Boa Boa, maybe even Morgan Blackhand… All sat on those stools, fell asleep on that same bar.”

Jackie sits in one of the barstools, beaming and brimming with excitement. His eyes wide as he takes it all in, the place he’s dreamed of for all his years. V climbs into the seat next to him, placing an elbow on the bar, leaning her head onto her hand, as she shifts to face him.

“Doubt that puts us in the same league as them,” V teases, Morgan Blackhand brought down Arasaka Tower. They’re stealing a biochip, hardly the same thing.

“Oh, but we are. They just don't know it yet,” Jackie tells her with a wink and she can’t help but roll her eyes.

“We-”

V drops her hand when she realizes Jackie’s attention has gone elsewhere, an older woman walking past the two. She’s nothing unusual, older looking than most of the crowd here, sure but nothing immediately stands out to V. An older woman with long gray hair shaved on one side and a bright yellow cropped sweater, She marches her way across the bar and into a blue lit booth, moving past a guard.

“'Ey. See that old lady there?”

“Yeah, didn’t know grannies were your type,” V taunts him again, he’s always given her shit for her taste in older people, yet he’s ogling some grandma?

“Fuck off,” he playfully smacks her, but nearly knocks her from her chair, “that’s fuckin’ Rogue, best fixer in all o' Night City.”

“Thought Dex was the best?”

“Pff… Rogue was linin' up jobs when Dex was still shittin' in diapers, heh. Place belongs to her.”

“What can I getcha?” The bartender cuts in, hands down on the bar in front of them. She’s a woman with long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a soft round face.

V doesn’t drink on the job, something she’s always stuck to. But, this is Jackie’s dream and she knows how he likes to celebrate. If nothing else, their banter has failed to undo her nerves, maybe booze will do the trick.

“You order,” she signs to Jackie and he grins.

“You drinkin’?”

“Special night, pick me something nice.”

“Two Tequila Old Fashioneds with a splash of cerveza and a chili garnish.”

“A duo of Johnny Silverhands, comin' up,” the bartender starts to put the drinks together, “somebody did their homework.”

“Guessing the dog ate mine,” V signs, confused because what the fuck is a silver hand?

“Age-old tradition. Drinks're named after our regulars,” she explains, putting the drinks down in front of the mercs.

“What’d I have to do to get a drink named after me?”

“Snuff it,” she grins, “ In mind-blowingly spectacular fashion, Mid-op'd be best.”

“Aah, what a beaut of a tradition!”

“Steep price for a drink, not going to lie,” V signs, letting her nerves speak for her, if only for a moment. Her guts are in knots, she can only hope the alcohol will untangle. All of the merc’s usual stress relieving tactics other than a weed brownie, have failed to do much of anything.

“Hey, everyone's gotta go sometime, right? Why not in style? Death’s nothing but the final flourish!”

“To hitting the major leagues,” she signs, holding her shot in the other hand.

“To becoming legends.”

She pushes her mask just up above her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick and they throw back their shots. Smooth but strong booze with a kick of spice from the garnish, a burn in her throat. Not her style, but she’s had worse. She pushes her mask back down, regarding the bartender, her nametag says Claire.

“So, who else can I drink here?” She still has no idea who Silverhand is, but maybe there’s a name she does recognize, reading the posted drink menu.

“All on the menu…”

“'Cept there's a spot missing. Morgan Blackhand, right?”

“Heh, true. Morgan's yet to make up his mind he's dead or still kickin',” Claire tells Jackie and V rolls her eyes.

“Think he’s still alive? It’s been years,” Jackie asks Claire.

“No way he’s still alive,.” The radio was just talking about the devastation of the tower going down, if that many folks were killed who were just near it, then there’s no way someone who was in the tower survived.

“Why not? Look at Rogue. Peeps from that era - a species unto themselves.”

“And one day we’re gonna be there too,” Jackie probably proclaims, “speaking of which, name’s Jackie Welles if you want to write down my recipe.”

“Sure.” There’s a playfulness in her tone, just going along with Jackie’s whims.

“Shot of vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer… oh, and most importantly - a splash of love.”

“Haha, I'll remember that.”

“Gag,” V signs just to see the glare Jackie levels her way, the playful smack of her arm.

“Okay, what’s your drink then?”

“Literally, the only thing I drink is like cherry cola with a splash of bourbon.”

“You know those are usually supposed to be reversed, the bourbon and coke.”

“Maybe so, but, and hear me out… cherry cola tastes better.”

“Heard you were Dex’s latest finds,” Claire tells them.

“Just biz, no big deal.”

“How'd you know?” V raises an eyebrow behind her mask.

“My job to know. Look around - how do you think meres earn their reps? Through gossip rivaling that of schoolgirls, that's how.”

“Mr. DeShawn see you now,” a booming voice rings out behind the mercs, turning around she sees Dex’s bodyguard. The first time she’s heard his voice.

“Love to hang, imbibe the vibe, but we got an important meeting,” Jackie tells Claire, getting up from his seat and V following suit, throwing some cash down on the bar.

“Break a leg.”

“This way,” the bodyguard tells them and the mercs falls in line behind him. He leads them around the bar, past the crowd and through a door towards the back of the club. The lighting shifting, more blue than green as they walk past another vending machine.

“Damn, holmes, you're huge... Work out?” Jackie asks, unable to stand the silence.

“Hmm.” A vague grunt as they pass through another door, the music fading as they get further from the main bar. But V can just hear the starting beat of some old dad rock, something about losing another day to pointless drudgery.

“Same here, y'know, in the ring. You do some kinda exotic shit? Kempo? Ninjitsu?”

Nothing as they turn another corner.

“Think you could take me, drop me?”

“Jackie…” Why must he sound like he’s picking a fight with the guy?

“In here,” the guard says, stopping and standing in front of another door.

"Este pinche tipo..."

The door opens and they’re greeted to the first room with warm lighting, though it just seems to be a storage corner. With a cabinet and vending machine. But to the left are barely see through walls of a booth that takes up half the room, through them V can just see T-Bug’s outline and leather couches.

They walk around, the front of the booth opened. A wrap around black leather couch goes around the back wall and left side of the booth. Dex sat on the back portion, talking into a holo about Excelsior and cold hard eddies. T-Bug sat to side, a table in the center of the room with the Flathead, Jinguji boxes, and shards placed on neat little index cards. There’s a small disconnect leather seat in the right corner, next to the door.

“Gotta bounce,” Dex hangs up, “well, if it ain’t Miss V.”

“Whole family in one place! Hah! Finally!”

“That’s one way to put it,” T-Bug teases and a shine of blue catches V’s eye, the netrunner wearing Misty’s bracelet. She can’t help but smile.

“A’ight, then… Set your butts down comfy,” Dex tells them. Jackie plops himself onto the larger couch next to T-Bug, comfortably spreading his arms over the back of it while V takes the smaller seat, putting her at an angle to see everyone. She stifles a laugh, seeing Jackie’s leg excitedly bounce up and down.

“Sweet booth, is it soundproof?”

“Jackie…” T-Bug scolds and V stifles a laugh.

“Now, now, Mr. Welles is right. We gon' be goin' over some sensitive material. But if it's all right with y'all, I'd like to start with a question for Miss V… Evelyn Parker - how'd you fare?”

All eyes on her, stomach still twisted in a vise, this is her chance. She’s got to tell him, but she doesn’t want Evelyn hurt. Some fixers will go to any length to get revenge on a client or merc who does them dirty. But, he’s got a right to know the shit she pulled.

“Intel was good, brain dance was exactly what we needed….”

“So, she just wanna see wha'ss good, or was there somethin' else?”

“Honestly?”

“Wouldn’t ask for anything else, Miss V.”

“She’s high risk as far as clients go. Shady as fuck, naïve as all hell, and genuinely thought she could make me another offer.”

“Another offer?” Dex’s brow raises about his sunglasses.

“Wanted me to cut you out for more cash, told her no, of course. But, wouldn’t do business with her again, if I were you.”

“Cut me out… shiiiit, now that’s rich,” Dex laughs, Jackie nervously laughing along, “Clients... never learn, do they?”

“You’re not pissed?”

“Lived in NC too long to blow my top every time some amateur thinks they can take me for a ride. Parker ain't the first and sure as hell won't be the last.”

“Fair enough,” V lets out a sigh, thankful if nothing else that Dex doesn’t seem prone to getting too mad at Evelyn. Maybe she’s being too kind, but she can’t help but think Evelyn is more naive than malicious when it comes to the offer. A stranger to the merc world.

“I do appreciate you sharin' this info, though, Miss V. You see, trust… …is essential in any partnership that's to be long-lasting and fruitful.”

“Figured you had a right to know, so, what’s the plan?”

“This.”

Dex gestures towards the shards on the table, V takes the one in front of her and slides it into her shard slot. UI and graphics lighting up her mask, a map pulling up on the tech.

“Me and Dex've already covered the fine detes. Ops wise, should be a stroll on the beach.”

“Elaborate, I wanna hear it.”

“A Delamain'll drop your asses at the front door of Konpeki Plaza,” a picture of the hotel shows, then two names, “You'll stroll right in thanks to your false identities. Then, with Bug's help, you'll breach the hotel's subnet…”

“Mine and the Flathead's help.” Images of the hotel’s interior and the bot flash by.

“Last but not least, you slip into Yorinobu's penthouse and klep the Relic,” his words bring up images of the heir and his suite.

“Goes without sayin' we do this on the hush - ideally no bodies, not a one.” The shard shows them The Relic and then blips out.

“You'll have T-Bug on comms for the duration. Time for your burnin' questions.”

“What’s our cover?” V asks, they’ve been told a thousand times they’ll be acting like corpos, but that’d be hard to do if they have no idea what their story is suppose to be.

“Hello, Ramón Victorino,” T-Bug looks at Jackie and then to V, “and you’re Hannah Conwell.”

“Ramón - yeah, OK. What do we say we're there for?”

“Biz as usual. Corpo arms deal. Case anyone asks, you there for a bogus meetin' with Arasaka's defense rep - Hajime Taki. Anything else?”

“How do we get in the penthouse?”

“Yorinobu's got barely any muscle. Hardest part'll be penthouse security. If we wanna disable, we'll need to neutralize Konpeki's dweller - elite ‘runner monitoring the hotel's subnet twenty-four seven. Only catch is there's no way to get in the dweller's den from the outside.”

“Hold on, how you want us to get inside a room you can't get into?”

“Trust me when I say whatever hitch you think up. T-Bug's solved it already”

“This is where the Flathead comes in. You'll have to get him in the ventilation shafts, guide him to the dweller and force the dweller to… take a break. Flathead'll stay there, jacked into the dweller, but thanks to that I’ll be able to roll out your red carpet into the penthouse.”

“Anything else?”

“Transports a Delamain?” She has no idea if the company has an ASL sign like most other corporations and doesn’t have time to think of one on the fly.

“Preemest cab company in all Night City… Nada mal,” hackie tells her.

“DeShawn don't ever work with anyone but the best. I consider Delamain just that.”

“Yeah, who needs creepy, nosy cab drivers when you've got a clean AI to get you from point A to point B in style?”

“And how he bags a permit to operate every year's still a mystery.”

“If everythin' goes as planned, Delamain'll drop you back here. If things get sticky, he'll head for the safe house.”

“Which is?”

“The No-Tell Motel. Quiet, no questions asked. Make our next move from there. But I'm flat certain that won't be necessary. Though, there is one more consideration for if it does.”

“What’s that?”

“Hate to put you on the spot, Miss V,” Dex explains, “but if shit goes sour, I’m gonna need to know who I’m letting into the hotel. Mask can’t go with to Konpeki, so I’d sure feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what was hiding behind that thing.”

“Oh… yeah, that makes sense.”

Even if she’d have Jackie with her when shit goes down, Dex is trusting her with this heist. The least she can do is trust him to see her face and not write her off or sell her out to The Herd if the chance arised. Not that she can see that happening anyway…

“Don’t even know why you wore the thing in, V,” Jackie teases.

“Well, there are other fixers here, didn’t want to give away my face…”

V carefully pulls off her mask, feeling exposed all over again, a new set of eyes on her face. The merc knows how she looks; five feet with a head of bleach blonde hair and big gray eyes. Not the picture one conjures in their mind when they think of a capable, strong, badass merc. Sprinkle in her disability and the reactions to her deafness; most people think she’s not a threat, weak.

“That what you’ve been hiding behind that mask? All that fuss, for what?” Dex laughs.

“Hard to take,” she stumbles over her English trying to sign at the same time, “be taken- seriously sometimes when you’re five foot nothing, deaf, and look like…”

“Gutterpunk Barbie,” Jackie cuts in to tease, earning him a sharp kick to the shin.

“Fuck off.”

“Trust me, Miss V, you pull off this job; ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna underestimate you”

“That’s the hope...”

“Any other questions?”

“I got a question. When do we get to the real reason we're all here?” Jackie asks, shooting a wink V’s way.

“Now's a good a time as any. Fresh talent gets thirty percent always, but I'm willin' to make an exception in your case. I'ma cut you a nice, juicy forty as a bonus for your honesty, V.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Ka-ching baby!~”

“Last thing, Konpeki's got a strict no-iron policy. Security gates, the works. So you dawgs'll leave your lead-spitters in the ride, take the Flathead inside in its case.”

“Got your suits from Jinguji on the table.”

“¡Chido!”

“Thanks, Bug.”

“So, not to count chickens, but when'll we see our eddies?”

“All depends how Ms. Parker unrolls herself or her role, but a week, two tops is my guess.”

“And what do we do in the mean time?”

“You sit tight, heads down, 'cause ol' uncle Arasaka be watching. Now, as that ol’ Greek dawg says, life's a banquet - so don't go thirsty, but don't get drunk, either,” he tells them as he leaves the booth, “Your chariot awaits outside.”

“My cue to delta, too. Gotta prep to jack in, be there when you come on comms. Any other issues, now's your chance,” T-Bug tells them, shifting her feet and something catches V’s eye. Delta V emblazoned on the netrunner’s boots, was that there before?

“Plan - your take?” V shakes the thought from her head, must be a brand or a runner thing V doesn’t know.

“Enough, I hope, to put me in a luxury Creton Villa from which I'll never set foot in cyberspace again.”

“Send me a postcard?”

“No offense, but I'm gonna burn any and all bridges - need a clean break.”

“Gonna take Misty’s bracelet with you?” Jackie teases, grinning because he caught it too.

“Shut up,” she tells him, rolling her eyes.

“Uh, just realized something, what’s gonna happen to our clothes? I don’t want to lose my mask…”

“No worries, put them in the boxes, we’ll have ‘em sent back to your places.”

“Alright then, lets get this show on the road.”

“Let's get to work, go ahead and get changed, Delamain is parked out front, uh, okay-”Bug starts to trip over her words when the two mercs start taking off their jackets, “you can use the bathrooms.”

“Eh,”

Jackie and V shrug their shoulders, the outfits are right there. Not much point in dragging them out to the bathroom. The pair shared a bedroom for the better half of six months, a room with one bed. They’ve seen each other naked plenty, boundaries destroyed a long while back.

“Why do I bother,” T-Bug rolls her eyes and leaves the booth, letting the pair change.

V kicks off her boots and takes off her socks, Jackie tugging off his jewelry first.

“So, you’re nerves still going crazy?” Jackie asks her as she tugs off her shirt, his own tossed off.

“What do you mean?” She tugs off her pants, both mercs soon standing around in their underwear.

“Can’t hide that shit from me, chica, been giving me twice as much hell as usual. You’re freaking out.”

“High stakes, Jack, of course I’m a nervous mess. Means I give a shit.”

She pulls the slack on and tugs on the white blouse, buttoning it up. The two of them putting on the corpo clothes, similar in look. Black slacks, white button up tops, black suit jackets, and Misty’s beaded bracelets for protection. Each perfectly tailored for their body types.

“Don’t sweat it so much, V, we got this.” He sticks his fist out.

“Sure fuckin’ hope so.” She bumps her fist to his.

Their street clothes are packed away in the boxes, V puts in her optic contacts and slide on her heels, then they start to make their way out of the booth. But, Jackie stops her with a hand on her shoulder and he taps his throat. She catches on taking off her choker translator, neck feeling bare and odd without the tech. With that they leave out through the club, Jackie carrying the Flathead case and the smaller merc keeps her head down as best she can. Her stomach still in knots as they spot the Delamain in the parking lot.

Her life is about to change forever; hopefully for the best. She’s on the cusp of having everything she’s wanted since she’s come to the city. The verge of earning the respect of everyone in this city and finally feeling like she’s someone, like she’s done something.

So, why does she feel like she’s about to puke?

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #johnny silverhand #silverv #jackie welles #t-bug #dexter deshawn #female v #aidan v becker #aidan becker #original female v

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

Communication Breakdown (1/1)

Summary: Matt fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.

Notes: For @queen-bitchiest who asked for something based on this post that kind of sort of got away from me and is somewhat similar. /o\

(Read on AO3)

Matt fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.

(To be fair, Gavin’s been pissing Matt off for the last forever, doing the stupidest shit and thinking it’s just fine and dandy and all of that and Matt has had fucking enough, okay? So much enough he doesn’t have the words for how much enough.)

“...What?”

Matt clears his throat, glancing at the others – still confused as hell and trying to make sense of the scene in front of them - and Matt’s bad knee is not enjoying any of this, okay.

So not.

“I said,” Matt says, clearing his throat again because that goddamn cough is acting up again. “Will you marry me, you piece of shit.”

There’s -

“Wow,” Jack says, first to recover. “Just. Wow, Matt.”

Michael has this look on his face like he’s been sucking lemons, hand clamped on Jeremy’s shoulder tight enough that even he’s wincing. Hissing at Michael to ease up a bit, Jesus Christ, Michael.

Matt has no fucking clue what that’s about, but hey whatever. He’s busy staring Gavin down like the idiot has a gun on him and fuck him anyway.

Idiot looks like he’s been through a meat-grinder, all bloody and beat up. Those fucking gold-framed sunglasses of his hooked into the collar of his shirt, lenses cracked and broken and goddamn him anyway.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what you said before,” Ryan points out, quibbling just to quibble.

Geoff looks like he wishes these assholes he recruited could stop with their bullshit for like, five goddamn minutes for once.

Lindsay snaps a picture of Matt down on one knee in front of Gavin on her phone and sends it to someone. (Odds are good it’s Trevor who took Alfredo and Fiona out of town for a job because they have an agreement.)

And, okay, yes.

The first time Matt didn’t call Gavin a piece of shit – out loud, at any rate – but they all know he was thinking it. Especially after Gavin’s little adventure today.

“Matt,” Gavin says, strained note to his voice. “Could I have a word with you in private?”

Matt opens his mouth to tell him no, no he can not because he knows what Gavin’s about to say, but this being Gavin, eh doesn’t give him the chance.

No, Gavin pulls Matt to his feet and drags him along behind him as they head for the conference room, catcalls and Geoff’s despairing, “Don’t fuck in my conference room, you assholes!” following them.

========

The décor in the conference room is very...bland.

No-nonsense hardwood laminate and this odd off-white paint for the walls. Glass-topped conference table with brushed-steel legs.

The view’s nice, looks out over the city. You can see the mountains in the distance, and if it’s a clear day you can almost see Chiliad.

“Matt,” Gavin says, a little shaky. “What. What was that?”

Matt staring out the windows, but it’s the opposite of a clear day. Fat, heavy rain clouds with lightning and thunder out over Vinewood and moving towards the penthouse.

Supposed to be one hell of a storm rolling in, at least a couple of inches of rain before night rolls around.

Matt looks over at Gavin, who still looks like shit, by the way, and crosses his arms. (Gavin almost got himself killed today, and Matt is not okay with that in any way, as though that will change things. Make the reckless idiot think twice before pulling those stunts of his.)

“What?” Matt asks, frown on his face and just enough confusion thrown in there that for a moment Gavin looks like he’s doubting himself, what he thinks he heard in the penthouse’s living room. “I didn't say anything.”

And, alright.

That's pushing things a little too far because Gavin’s eyes narrow, all the stupid, reckless decision making abilities he has shoved aside to make way for the sharp-eyed bastard that enjoys playing dumb too damn much.

“There was a plan,” Gavin says, although which one he’s talking about is up for debate. “We had a plan, Matt.”

They did, didn’t they.

“Oh?” Matt says. “Which one might that be, Gavin? The one where you were supposed to stick with Ryan, and not go off on your own? Or maybe you mean the one where you avoid the pack of guards with itchy trigger fingers? Ooh, or maybe - “

God, there are so many plans Gavin could be talking about. And true, they’re all smaller components to the master plan for the heist, but still.

“Uh,” Gavin says, like he realizes he’s stepped into a mine-field here. “None of the above?”

Matt stares at Gavin.

Look, he knows, okay. Matt knows this...thing they’ve been doing the past few weeks is a farce. Knows none of it was real, was just Gavin being Gavin, trying to get the others off his back about his dating dry spell. (And it’s not like there’s a dating site for criminals or anything, so Matt doesn’t know what they were thinking, but whatever.)

Matt drew the short straw and he was fine, just fine with pretending to be Gavin’s plus one because hey, why not?

It was funny at first, watching the others react to the news Gavin was dating him. That he and Matt were a Thing. The expressions of horror and disgust as he and Gavin tried to out-do one another with pet names at every available opportunity, Matt trying to hold his shit together while Gavin simpered at him over the comms and just.

He kind of forgot for a while it wasn’t – look, he knows it will never happen, just.

Matt forgot, let himself get swept along in Gavin’s chaos and had fun. Enjoyed himself a little too much and -

Point is, point is, for the last few weeks Matt’s life has been a super crappy romcom, and he just made things worse.

There was supposed to be this dramatic breakup after the heist, just enough to have everyone else fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Get them to buy it the way they thought someone like Gavin would be interested in someone like Matt – great joke, right? - but Matt fucked that up.

Saw Gavin standing there after everything that happened giving him this look, all well? Get on with it then, we don’t have all day like he hadn’t come so damn close to dying, and Matt snapped.

Just.

Fucking snapped the way the betting pool Jack’s got going Matt’s not supposed to know about says he’s bound to one day with all the shit the crew gives him.

Matt snapped and instead of breaking up with Gavin he proposed to him.

Gavin’s still watching him.

Head tipped to the side and this little frown on his face, puzzling out what the hell’s gotten into Matt.

“Matt,” Gavin says, oddly formal about it. “While I know it can be confusing, breaking up rarely involves a marriage proposal.”

They kind of do? (Or maybe Matt’s lived a very different life from Gavin, because yeah. He's seen shit go down like this before.)

“Shows what you know,” Matt mutters.

Gavin sighs, and shuffles over to one of the conference room chairs. Makes this pained little noise as he sits down, winces just the tiniest bit.

“Matt,” he says, and gently pats the table. “Sit the hell down and talk to to me.”

Oh, such sweet nothings.

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” Matt says, always too stubborn for his own good.

Several minutes go by while Gavin studies him, wheels turning in that head of his.

Alright then, love,” Gavin says, and Matt’s fingers dig into his arm at how the term of endearment just slips off his tongue so easily.

Light and soft and not Matt’s alone because Gavin’s just as likely to call one of the others that or someone he bumps into on the street than Matt, so.

Yeah.

Not his, and he’s fine with that, but the past few weeks have fucked with Matt’s head a little too much. Gotten everything he used to keep (somewhat) neat and orderly in and locked down tight in his head all jumbled together and he’s just.

He’s tired.

“Matt,” Gavin says, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay?”

Matt kind of wants to laugh, or is it cry?

“I’m fine, Gavin,” he says, because he always is, right? Good old Matt Bragg, always there when the others need him, even if it’s to play fake boyfriend for some dumbshit. “Just fine.”

Gavin sighs, and when Matt looks over he realizes Gavin looks tired too.

Gotta be hurting like a son of a bitch too, after the day he’s had. Too many close calls and an unhealthy amount of explosions in his vicinity and all that.

“You should have someone look you over,” Matt says, done with this conversation. “You look like shit.”

Gavin’s mouth twists, but Matt’s not in the mood for his bullshit anymore.

“I’ve got...stuff to do,” he says. He trusts B-Team to have things in hand, all the post-heist work they have to do to keep the authorities off their backs, but he needs to be doing something. Cant’ just stand around with his thumb up his ass reliving one of the worst days of his life in his head while Gavin sits there staring at him like he doesn’t get it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He leaves before Gavin can say anything else, pushes past the cluster of idiots outside the conference room doors and ignores the looks they give him as he does.

========

Matt hides out as much as he can for the next week, makes up excuses and flat-out lies to avoid facing the others in any capacity. (Thank God for B-Team running interference or he might have had to talk about his feelings.)

But then, you know.

The food poisoning hits, and he’s vulnerable like a turtle turtle turned on its back. Or is that tortoises?

Whichever one it is, he’s too sick to run when Trevor finally catches him.

“There you are.”

Matt doesn’t cringe, no.

That would just tip Trevor off as to Matt’s horrible life choices even more. No, Matt just feel his stomach clench up on him. (Could be the food poisoning, but he doesn’t get the accompanying nausea, just this all-over dread, so. Probably the feelings thing.)

“Matt?” Trevor asks, and then when Matt pretends he can’t hear him what with his headphones in, sternly, “Matt Bragg”

Matt would keep pretending he can’t hear Trevor, but then the asshole yanks the cord of his headphone out of Matt’s computer and he has to slap at the keyboard to mute the volume before it’s too late and Trevor hears what he’s listening to.

“Is that...Matt. Is that Sarah McLachlan ?”

Matt winces, and doesn’t deny it. (But oh, would he love to.)

“It’s a scientific fact,” Matt says, trying to hold on to whatever dignity he has left. “It's a scientific fact that listening to sad music after a breakup is beneficial.”

He’s pretty sure he just pulled that out of his ass, but whatever. The saddest song he can think of is from that one damned humane society commercial, God knows he feels like shit just thinking about it.

And...you know, the thing where he and Gavin weren’t actually dating, but. Uh. Details?

Trevor stares at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“Okay, whatever the hell that’s all about aside, I came to check on you.”

Well, obviously, what with Trevor picking the locks on Matt’s front door, yes.

“And!” Trevor continues, “I brought you a gift.”

That’s...concerning.

Deeply, deeply concerning.

Trevor’s smiling.

“Uh - “

Trevor’s smiling and Matt’s known him too long not to recognize the warning signs, and yet he’s still caught by surprise when Trevor reveals said “gift”.

“Bring him in!” Trevor calls out, like a demented game show host ushering in a contestant.

Behind Trevor Matt’s front door swings open to show Jeremy and a reluctant looking Gavin. Jeremy all but dragging Gavin inside, this manic grin on his face as he gives Gavin a little shove towards Matt and then blocks the door.

“Hey, Matt!” Jeremy says, and bright and cheerful and not a little terrifying. “Look who we found!”

Would you look at that? The nausea’s back, because Gavin’s not looking at him.

Is, in fact, looking at Trevor and Jeremy, everything thing about him screaming that he doesn’t want to be here, dear God you two, please let him leave,.

Trevor’s smiles kicks up another notch as he leans around Gavin and pins Matt with a look.

“You two kids play nice now,” he says with a wink. “We’ll be right outside.”

What.

“What?”

But Trevor borrows Matt’s earlier trick of selective hearing because he just waltzes right on out of Matt’s apartment with Jeremy and shuts the door behind them.

“Uh,” Matt says again, because what the hell? “Hey, Gavin.”

Gavin flinches, which is never a good sign.

He flinches, and turns to look at Matt.

Still looks like shit, but like. Less so.

The bruises are fading, no longer that dark, ugly purple Matt remembers from the penthouse. The cuts on his face and neck have scabbed over, should heal without scarring.

But there are dark marks under his eyes that weren’t there the last time Matt saw him, and he looks. Tired. Not the way he normally looks, burning the candle at both ends and thriving off it, no, he looks exhausted.

“You look like shit in a completely different way,” Matt says, because he’s never had a whole brain-to-mouth filter, and boy has that gotten him into trouble in the past. “No offense.”

Gavin makes a face at that, mouth quirking into the tiniest of smiles.

“Oh, no offense taken then since you said that, Matt,” he says, dumb little in-joke with them.

And then you know, an awkward pause.

Neither of them want to be here having the discussion they’re about to have because Trevor and Jeremy are assholes.

“I have a fire escape?” Matt offers, waves a hand more or less in the right direction. “But I have a feeling they roped Alfredo into this mess, and you know Alfredo.”

No doubt set up in a sniper’s nest in case they try to sneak out the back.

“Oh, they did,” Gavin says, eyes darting to Matt’s living room windows. “Fiona’s out there too.”

Jesus.

That’s something Matt didn’t need to know considering she has to be itching to take him down for all the shit he gives her.

“Awesome,” Matt says, because really.

Awesome.

Gavin’s watching Matt, this little frown between his eyes. All concerned and shit.

“You look terrible,” Gavin says, takes a step towards Matt before he stops himself, pulls the hand that was reaching towards him back with a jerky little motion. “Are you alright?”

Matt is super not alright, because the food poisoning. (And also his terrible life choices, but mainly the food poisoning at this point.)

“Well, you know,” Matt says. “Food poisoning will do that to you.”

Interestingly enough, Gavin winces. Opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s got something to say and just doesn’t know how.

Like maybe he knows something Matt doesn’t, or just. Who even knows.

“Gavin?”

Gavin does the thing he does when he’s trying to translate from Gavin to English and failing, so he settles for vague hand gestures and words that are kind of sort of almost right with random noises thrown in.

It sounds like gibberish, and Matt can never tell if it’s some kind of British slang or Gavin’s brain shorting out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

Gavin sighs, looking at Matt like he’s the idiot here.

“I said,” Gavin says. “You should be nicer to Sarah.”

Matt’s positive that isn’t what Gavin said, but sure.

Also.

“Wait.”

Gavin raises his eyebrows, corner of his mouth ticking up like he thinks something is hilarious but he doesn’t want to look like an asshole. (Too late, but Matt appreciates the attempt.)

“Wait.”

Matt likes Sarah, he does. Gives her a lot of grief because he likes her, because like everyone else in the crew it’s how he shows affection or some shit. (They’re all a fucked up.)

Problem is, Sarah is a monster of a human being.

Plays all sweet and nice, but Matt knows she’s plotting behind his back, waiting for the right moment to lay him low so she can take his place and rule with an iron fist or some shit.

Or, you know. Just lay him low because he gives her shit and she’s not someone who takes kindly to that, whichever.

“She brought me my lunch,” Matt says, feeling like a detective in some shitty Vinewood movie putting the pieces together.

Sarah brought Matt his lunch, and the the food poisoning happened and he was too busy trying to puke up his guts to ponder overmuch how the food poisoning happened, or question if it was intentional.

“Oh my God,” Matt says, impressed despite of himself because she was so smooth about it, all happy smiles and kind and generous to get lunch for B-Team, just doing a good deed and dear God she’s far more devious than he gave her credit for. “Oh my God.”

Gavin bites his lip, looks away. Doesn’t laugh at Matt while struggles to come to terms with this most heinous of betrayals, no.

God no, Gavin would never.

“If it helps,” Gavin says, shoulders shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’m certain Trevor put her up to it.”

That...yeah. That doesn’t surprise Matt as much. Trevor would thinking giving Matt food poisoning would give him the perfect opening to instigate this...whatever this is.

(Oh, everyone thinks Trevor’s the nice one. All polite and shit, but no. Trevor is the worst one in the entire crew, including Sarah.)

“Of course he did,” Matt mutters. “It’s Trevor.”

Gavin clears his throat, shuffles his feet.

Catches Matt eye for a moment, this smile on his face before he looks away again just as fast.

Looks awkward as hell and Matt can’t figure out if that little flicker of guilt he saw on his face before he did was real or just a figment of his imagination.

And then -

“I bollocksed everything up between us, didn't I?” Gavin asks, staring at the ugly little garden garden gnome statue Jeremy stole for Matt on a dare with a frown on his face. “Did everything all wrong.”

Matt says nothing. He’s not sure what he can say, so he lets Gavin talk it out since that seems to be what he needs right now.

Something about the crew giving him grief over his non-existent romantic life and Gavin having enough. Wanting just a little bit of peace and quiet on that front as he wrestled with crew business and gearing up for the heist and a million and one other things.

Matt makes noises in the appropriate places because knows all about that, remembers Gavin explaining it to him when he made that indecent proposal of his. (Should have been a warning sign he did it over dinner, took Matt out to one of his favorite places to sweeten the deal. Butter him up, all that stuff.)

“It just...” Gavin sighs, gives Matt this wry smile. “It all got out of hand.”

That’s one way to put it.

“I thought,” Gavin sighs again, frustrated. “I thought I had it under control. Figured it was just for a little while, that I wouldn’t...wouldn’t lose sight of things.”

Matt’s stomach does this little flip, a dip and roll and the nausea is...doing something. Has him sinking down on his couch and giving Gavin a wordless shrug as he mimes food poisoning kind of sucks at him, or something close enough that Gavin seems to get it.

Matt watches as Gavin takes a seat in the crappy arm chair on the other side of Matt’s coffee table. Sees him fiddle with the strings on his hoodie, worrying the knot between his fingers.

“Michael told me it was a bad idea,” Gavin says, mumbles almost. “Said I was playing with fire, going to get burned and all that, but I didn’t listen to him. Told him he couldn’t say anything, and you know how he is.”

Oh, Matt knows.

Asshole would have either gone to Matt the moment he figured everything out to fuck with Gavin or he’d have Gavin’s back the whole way. (Or a little bit of both, give Matt more shit than usual and drop little comments here and there that were confusing as hell at the time, but now? Yeah. That whole hindsight thing is a bitch.)

Gavin makes a face, waves his hand in even more vague gestures.

“Can’t keep a secret from Michael to save my life,” he says. “Bastard’s good at sniffing ‘em out.”

Or maybe he just knows Gavin that well. (Also, Matt’s will pass on the nose jokes because the mood in the room is all wrong. Noble sacrifice on his part right there.)

Gavin shrugs, like he knows what Matt’s thinking.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did,” Gavin says, fingers moving on to picking the hoodie string apart, undoing the knot and unraveling the string. “But it was just too much bloody fun messing with the others, but then it...”

Gavin trails off, frowning at the bits of fabric stuck under his nails like he doesn’t know where they came from. Scowls as he sets to pulling them free, making a messy pile of shredded fluff on Matt’s coffee table like an asshole.

“It got complicated,” Matt finishes for him. Because it did. He knows what Gavin means, because it really was fun at first.

The two of them fucking with the others, and just enjoying the ride. Getting the chance to know one another better, which was the main problem. Kicked that crush Matt had on Gavin into overdrive. Made him realize that hey, wow, that little crush he’d had on Gavin since he joined the crew wasn’t middle school infatuation with the guy. That he had feelings for Gavin even though he damn well knew better than that.

Knew perfectly well what a piece of shit Gavin was and he still liked him. (Liked-liked, even.)

But by then it was too late to keep himself from getting hurt and he knew that, he did, he just didn’t give a damn.

Gavin plucks the last bit of cloth out from under his nails and sighs.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding tired and defeated and guilty as Matt’s ever heard him. “That.”

Which, okay, great. Nice to know and everything, but -

“I like you,” Gavin blurts out, still staring at his hands, his nails. “A lot, Matt. I like you a lot.”

Matt doesn’t know what that means in this context.

“Well,” he says. Stops. Thinks, or tries to, but he’s kind of an idiot. “That’s great to hear, Gavin. I like you too.”

God, they sound like toddlers.

No, worse, because toddlers can express their emotions. What the two of them are doing is just sad.

Gavin looks up at him, like Matt’s not understanding him.

“No,” he says, insistent. “I like you, Matt.”

...Okay?

Gavin stares at Matt, who looks back feeling like he’s missing something but no clue what it could be and oh, Jesus, he hates moments like these, okay. Really, really hates them because they end with Matt being used as bait or conned into doing something he super doesn’t want to be part of. (See: Pretending to Date Gavin-fucking-Free as just one example.)

“Oh my God,” Gavin says, laughter a little hysterical at the edges. “Oh my God, Matt.”

Matt freezes when Gavin shoves himself to his feet and climbs over Matt’s coffee table - “Hey, my coffee table!” - to stand in front of him.

Looks down at Matt with that frown on his face again, the puzzle-solving one and sighs as he gives Matt this smile.

Soft and warm and too...too much.

Has Matt trying to move, back away from him because no>, but there’s nowhere for him to go. Can’t climb over the back of the couch because his balance is shit at the moment, and also he’s not the athletic sort.

Also, he might puke if he tries it.

“Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and gets down on his knees in front of Matt to put them on even ground.

...Even-ish.

“You’re kind of an idiot, Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and the way his voice sounds is all kinds of unfair, just as soft and affectionate as that damned smile of his. “And I’m not sure why, but I like that about you.”

That’s. Wow. Flattering?

“Um, thanks?”

Gavin rolls his eyes, because Matt isn’t a hundred percent on board with whatever it is he’s doing here – giving Matt backhanded compliments while confusing the hell out of him maybe? - and shakes his head.

“I’d like to date you,” Gavin says in one big rush. Breathes. “Properly, I mean. Take you out to all your favorite...restaurants and to movies and all that.”

Matt squints at Gavin.

He knows that that hesitation regarding Matt’s “restaurants” was all about. Knows everyone in the crew cannot fathom how he hasn’t died of scurvy or malnutrition yet with the way he eats. Knows what Gavin thinks about all of it, and yet here he is being mildly insulting about it.

That’s Gavin making an effort, really trying. More than Matt ever hoped for, and it’s -

Matt likes it.

Likes that Gavin’s making an effort here, letting Matt see him like this when he’s always so guarded about things. (Laughs and jokes, sure, and always, always deflecting.)

He’s still having a hard time buying someone as brilliant, as vibrant as Gavin would be interested in someone as – well. Someone like Matt, but there’s this part of him that wants to because Matt knows Gavin’s a piece of shit, sure, but he’s not someone who’d knowingly set out to fuck with Matt’s feelings.

Leap of faith, trust fall. Something like that.

“Wow,” Matt says, and he doesn’t know if the way his heart kicks him in the chest is related to the food poisoning or something else, or if it’s anything to do with how nervous Gavin looks right now. “That really hurt you to say didn’t it.”

Gavin’s eyes widen, and Matt can see him jumping to all the wrong conclusions, so he just.

“Okay,” Matt says, and laughs at the way Gavin chokes a little bit between trying to apologize harder and the confusion at Matt’s easy agreement. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. The dating thing. I’m super on board with that.”

Gavin’s not wrong about Matt being an idiot, because talk about smooth, but hey. Gavin’s the idiot who wants to date Matt, so what does that say about him?

And yes, for the record Matt knows he’s insulting himself there, but seriously.

Gavin could have anyone he wanted and he’s choosing Matt.

And sure, there’s every chance this won’t work out between them, but that’s the risk anyone takes when they date someone, isn’t it?

Give him a little hope and he goes all optimistic, doesn’t he? Because it’s possible this can still blow up in their faces, but Matt’s trying to ignore that for the moment. Wants to believe it can (it can) work between them if they’re both willing to put in some effort, be a little more honest with one another.

“...I feel like you’re laughing at me, Matt Bragg.”

Matt pastes on an innocent expression, because good lord no, Gavin. He would never dare do such a thing.

“Perish the thought,” he says, and laughs at the look Gavin gives him because they’re both idiots and this is such a bad idea, but that’s kind of what they do, so there’s that.

Gavin sighs again, but there’s a smile playing on his lips and he looks. He looks happy, like he can’t believe Matt’s giving him a chance, second one or whatever this is, and that can’t be a bad thing.

“Hey,” Matt says, leans forward and waits until Gavin does the same. “I kind of like you too, Gavin.”

#braggvin #mattvin #ragehappy #fahc au #queen-bitchiest #Prompt Fills #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #this was supposed to be short and sweet?and yet here we are #lol #XD

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themoonandotherslikeit · 4 years

Text

Someone Alive, Part One

How does it feel?

Falling. Castiel knew that falling was defined as a verb, to move downward, typically rapidly and freely without control, from a higher to a lower level.

Touch. How does it feel? They were just words, concepts. He understood them as a functionality, just another thing that happens like the wind or the sunrise. They are not required to have a meaning, not everything does.

Castiel was a man of faith, he had to be, but sometimes he still wondered. When he saw the leaves move with the breeze, a bird with its outstretched wings gliding through the sky, or the lapping waves of Lake Michigan against the harbor.

What was cool, warm, sweet, soft, gentle, rough? How does it feel?

He wore sensible shoes, when it wasn’t necessary for him to wear shoes at all, but suddenly he was glad that he had them. He stared at the city, his toes hanging over the edge of the scaffolding. His arms extended like wings, his trench coat catching the wind and flapping wildly, but even then he didn’t have the answers. He only had a taste, a longing for the tug of gravity, for just a brush of something real.

He didn’t know how it felt. He didn’t know how any of it felt, and all he could hear was the echo of a voice inside his head, “I need to be with someone alive.” What was a life anyway? It was all so meaningless, but as the sun rose in the distance, the shape of the buildings just a dark silhouette against the bleeding pink and orange sky, he heard the music. It was a song familiar, like a mother rocking her child to sleep, a hum deep in his soul, shaking him to his core.

There was a majesty, a mystery to a plane of the world that he couldn’t reach out and grasp, that had no definition - like the song within the sunset. But some things don’t need to be defined. Perhaps it was better to leave the mystery, the vague idea of something more, or perhaps it wasn’t.

Before

“Winchester what the fuck are you doing here? This is your off time, go be off,” Lieutenant Bobby Singer grouched as he walked out into the common area of the fire station.

Dean sat with his feet up, reading the newspaper. He offered a huge smile to his Lieutenant. “I am off, see ?”

“Don’t buy it for a second. Go home.”

“Come on Bobby,” Dean whined. “Just let me hang around here, I’m not botherin’ anybody.”

“You’re bothering me. Git.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He placed his feet on the ground with a huff of complaint, and walked to his quarters to grab his bag. He hated going home, if he was being honest. It was lonely in his one bedroom loft, he preferred the loud, busy chatter of the fire station. He flopped down on his bed, his head resting on his pillow. He didn’t function well on breaks, it wasn't in his blood to stay still. The guys were always trying to get him to take a damn vacation, and he always told them that vacation wasn’t in his vocabulary.

There was a groan from the bunk above him, the bed springs sagging as his roommate shifted in his bed. “Brother, what’re you still doing here?”

“Mind your own, Benny.”

Benny chuckled and leaned over the edge. He smiled down at him sleepily through a full beard. “What’s your obsession with this place, anyway?”

“Don’t have any other friends.”

“You don’t have any friends, brother,” Benny laughed, sitting all the way up with a stretch. “Fuck, I should probably get up and around, and you should go home. Really.”

“Buzzkills, all of you.”

“Go have sex with your pretty girlfriend, some of us would kill to have that to go home to.”

“She ain’t home.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s a pharmaceutical rep, she travels a lot. She’s on the coast now, I think,” Dean said, almost sounding bored. He’d been with Lisa since graduating from college. When they were together, things were good, and when they were apart, there were no strings. It worked for them. Dean could burst into flames and know that she wasn’t waiting around for him, worrying. The perks of having no family was that he didn’t have to worry about his own safety. He could just focus on putting out fires and saving people. It’s all he’d ever wanted to do.

Benny’s feet hung over the side of the bunk, his bare toes uncomfortably close to Dean’s face. “Then go have some phone sex or grab a beer. Get a hobby, because if Singer finds you in here he’s going to be pissed.”

“Eh, he’s always pissed. It’s his default emotion.” The bed creaked as the heavy man above him hopped down, giving Dean a full shot of his hairy ass. “Aw Christ, Benny. Really ?” Dean groaned, covering his eyes. “God, I can’t unsee that.”

“Kiss my ass, Winchester.”

“Bend over and give me something to kiss then, princess.”

“You wish.” He moved his fingers a bit to see if his friend was decent again, just to catch him shrugging into this shirt, his ass out of view again.

“I told you I’m lonely, don’t tempt me,” he joked.

The familiar sound of the alarm began beeping, lights flashing - alerting them that they were needed on site.

“Yes!” Dean grinned, hopping up. “I knew I should stay.”

Benny was shrugging into his pants and shoes. “No way, man. Singer will kill you if he sees you out on the job. You’re off duty.”

“Not anymore! I’m not letting you take on the job without me.”

“Stubborn ass,” Benny mumbled, jogging out of the room and down the hallway.

Dean followed him with a laugh, matching his pace. He patted Benny’s back and offered him a wide grin. “Don’t call me by my true name, can’t have the other guys knowing.”

“Shut up,” Benny laughed, shaking his head.

This was Dean’s favorite part. The anticipation before, wrapping his legs and hands around the cool metal, sliding down. He slid into his clothes perfectly in less than sixty seconds, pants, boots, suspenders, coat, SCBA, SCBA mask, hood, helmet, and gloves. He was fast, much faster than Benny who always stumbled around when it came to his boots, leaving Dean snickering inside of his mask. He slid into the truck.

He’d wanted to be a firefighter his entire life. When he was a child, his mother died in a fire, trapped in the house. They couldn’t get to her and his father pulled him out, the flames licking at their ankles. The firemen let him sit in the truck, and he got to watch as they put out the flames. He watched as one man ran in, bravely pulling his mother from the second story window. She died of smoke damage at the hospital later that night, but Dean never forgot. His own father wasn’t brave enough to go after his Mom, but the stranger in the heavy gear did, without a second thought.

Dean was four years old, and his future was suddenly laid out in front of him. He bought a fireman's hat from the dollar store with the money that he stole from his Dad’s wallet when he was passed out drunk.

He was desperate to find the bravery that the men who tried to save his mom had. Even an ounce of it could’ve changed everything. So he went on every run that he could, he trained as hard as possible. He was a smartass, but he was damn good at his job. No one complained when they saw that Winchester had snuck onto the truck, again .

Dean always said that he was gum stuck to the fire station��s shoe. They couldn’t get rid of him no matter how much they tried. They were stuck with him, and as much as they bitched, he knew that they were happy that he was there. Benny settled next to him, and Dean slapped his back approvingly.

The rest of the crew consisted of three other firemen. Jo, the petite blonde who was good at squeezing into smaller spaces. She kept up with the boys just fine, meeting every one of Dean’s snarky comments with one of her own. The night that she hustled him in poker she gained his respect and all of the money in his wallet. Kevin the genius kid, who was so good at building structures that he often mapped out their entire entrance plan, making him invaluable to the team. Last but not least, Jack Kline rounded off the group. He was the youngest in the group, brand new and fresh out of fire science camp. He had graduated early, taking classes during his junior year, so there he was: twenty years old, not even old enough to drink, drowning in his gear. Dean was gladder than ever that he decided to stick around. They were going to need him.

They arrived at the fire first, an apartment building was caught on fire. In the briefing Kevin explained that the fire seemed to be coming from one of the mid level apartments and was spreading upwards. Evidently the old building was extremely flammable, by the time they arrived the flames were licking out of the windows, black heavy smoke curling up into the sky.

Dean clicked on his oxygen, itching to run right into the shit. He’d gotten a talking to more than once about zipping in without orders, but he always got the job done, saved the unsaveable, he didn’t make mistakes. So he continued to be reckless, because sometimes that was what needed to be done to save the most people. At least that’s what he told himself.

The police had already sectioned off the building to keep the civilians away, the lower levels were already evacuated and Dean could see soot-covered individual’s being checked out by EMS.

Kevin rolled out the schematics of the building to show the team. His mask was up so he could talk them through the plan, but Dean felt the itch, something deep inside of this gut that told him he needed to go right then. It was almost like a heavy hand on his shoulder, a tap telling him that it was time to run, that he didn’t have the time to stand around staring at maps. Maybe he did have a death wish, or maybe it was something else altogether, but regardless of the reasoning, he turned away from his team, saluting Benny, and running into the building.

The lowest level of the building was filled with heavy smoke that seemed to have creeped through the vents and down the steps of the building. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was left behind, but the coast seemed clear. He jogged to the stairs, checking his weight on them before determining that there wasn’t enough damage to cause him any real difficulties.

The higher he climbed, the harder it was to see. The next floor up was heavy with smoke, and he squinted through his mask. His adrenaline pumped through his veins, his heart pounding in his ears. There were people up there that needed to be saved, and it was Dean’s responsibility to get to them.

“Hey, idiot! What do you think you’re doing?” Jo buzzed into his ear piece.

He groaned. They’d recently updated their radios, and he still wasn’t used to hearing them essentially inside of his head. “Savin’ people. You know, the job,” he said back to her into his mic. “Rooms clear on the second floor.”

“You’re fast, Winchester, I’ll give you that. Don’t go up any further without backup.”

“What? You’re breaking up,” he said, making chhhh noises.

“I’m going to break something on you! Stay where you are, I’m coming to you!”

It was some kind of miracle that Dean hadn’t been fired already, no pun intended. He was garbage at directions, and he was always getting into sticky situations. Sticky situations that he always managed to get out of, and he supposed that was why he still had a job.

He grumbled and awkwardly stood where he was, deciding that he should probably wait for Jo. It was the right thing to do. It would be shitty of him to leave her all alone in a major fire. At least that’s what he thought until he heard the sound of the building groaning above him. It was going to come down, that was obvious, he just didn’t know how fast. “Jo,” he said into the mic. “Don’t come up, it’s not stable.”

“Come back down, Dean. We can go up through the window.”

“Can’t, already this far,” he said, not intending to blatantly disobey her, but fuck he wasn’t going to walk out when there were still several floors left that he had yet to sweep. Before she could respond, a cry cut through the air, through the smoke, and through the thick material covering his ears, and he had no idea how he didn’t hear it before. “Fuck, there’s a kid up here. I’m going up.”

“Dean!”

If Jo said anything in addition, he didn’t hear her. He was too busy running. He climbed upwards, not bothering to test for weight, which was an amateur move. He was hyper focused on the sound of the child crying out. He would get to the kid, and get him or her out as quickly as possible. He would save the little one no matter what. When he reached the next level he finally saw the flames. The third floor was clearly the originating location of the fire. Flames licked out of the open doors and out into the hallway.

Even after all the fires that he’d been a part of he still wasn’t used to breathing easy in the midst of all of the heavy smoke. He listened hard, waiting for another wail to tell him which direction he should be going in. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to think, to focus . He knew he could find the kid, and as if he summoned it himself, a cry erupted from his left.

He turned sharply and approached the door. He tried to open it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He quickly eyeballed the doorframe to get a good idea of its stability. He had no real reason to think that it’d crash down around him, so he backed up a bit, and kicked at the door as hard as he could. Kicking down a door wasn’t as easy as it looked on television and even after some practice it still took a few tries before he was able to break through. The door swung open and he immediately shielded his face as the fire reached out toward the oxygen in the hallway.

He pushed through into the apartment, and it was so much worse than he expected. The ceiling groaned angrily above him, threatening to collapse, and just about every surface was engulfed in flames. He couldn’t see shit, let alone a little kid. He went through the house, looking behind furniture and inside closets, but he wasn't getting anywhere. His stomach twisted, as he realized that he might never get to the kid. Not the way he was going. Jo was screaming in his ear, but he tuned her out.

Dean knew that it only took a single second, a thought, a breath to change his world forever. So he pulled off his mask, and he shouted as loud as he could. “Where are you? I’m here to save you!”

He squinted in the smoke. “I heard you crying!” Come on, damn it! It didn't take long for him to already start feeling lightheaded, and he thought that maybe he’d imagined the cry all along. “My name’s Dean,” he called out weakly, feeling like it was a sad attempt at putting the mystery child at ease, but something must have made a connection, because just as he opened his mouth to call out again he was met with a small squeak that sounded a lot like his name.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, I’m here! Where are you?” He followed the soft sound of the child’s voice over the angry, roaring fire, trying his damndest to get to the kid before the roof came crashing down. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie,” she said, poking her head out from behind the washing machine.

Dean let out a sigh and smiled. “Hey Charlie, you’re safe now. M’ere.” He turned his head to speak into the microphone. “Jo, I found the kid. I’m gonna get her and head down.”

“Good, you idiot! Which side of the building are you on? We are bringing the ladder to you. The building is unstable, and the Super says that he has a good headcount of the tenants. We think the building is clear.”

“North side,” he grunted. “Heard.”

He crouched down and offered the little girl with two red pigtails a big smile. She coughed in response, her pale, thin fingers tightly gripping a stuffed dragon.

“Your chest hurt?”

She nodded lightly and he pulled his oxygen away from his helmet and offered it to her.

“Breathe in, okay? Don’t be scared, I’ve got you.”

Her pale cheeks were covered in soot along with her nightgown, and Dean had to wonder where her parents were. “Are you alone?

She nodded quickly again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, spreading the soot. He stood up, backing out of the small opening so she could get out. “Let’s get out of here. It’s too hot for my taste, what about you?” He offered her a hand, and she nodded up at him, reaching out her own hand.

It happened so fast. It was another moment, a split second rift in the space-time continuum that would change his life forever. Her fingers didn’t even brush his before a loud crack erupted through the apartment. Charlie recoiled into herself, pulling her arm back into the gap next to the washer, directly under a shelf. He reached back for her, feeling like he was moving in slow motion against the pulse of the flames and the haze of heat radiating through the air.

Dean wasn’t even able to suck in his breath before the ceiling collapsed. The support beam above them holding everything together broke right between them, crashing into the floor with so much force that it busted a hole right through the already-burning floor. Ash, flames, and smoke littered his vision and he had to blink it all away, narrowing his eyes to focus.

He was on the ground, the falling debris having landed directly on him, and he was fucking glad that he had kept his helmet on. He couldn’t move. He was trapped. The adrenaline pumping through him made sure that he was numb from his shoulder down to his fingers. That can’t be good . He tugged gently and a white hot pain shot up his arm into his shoulder, which surprisingly felt like a good sign. He knew that at least his arm was still under there somewhere. His eyes scanned the tube going from his oxygen tank that had been connecting him and Charlie together. It was pinned underneath the rubble. “Charlie! Hey! Kid, can you hear me?”

He coughed, his chest burning. He’d been in here too damn long. Heat licked at his cheeks and every breath was hard labor. He pulled on his arm again, feeling the true weight of the beam against his likely-broken bones. The impact fucked up his radio, and all he heard was static where Jo’s voice used to be. He never thought he’d miss the sound of her nagging, but it was all about perspective, he reckoned.

The weight of the smoke was heavy on his tired lungs and his arm cried out in pain. All of those moments that he was told to slow down felt just a little more justified to him now. “Charlie.” His voice was weaker, his vision blurring as he tried to see her in the rubble.

He always assumed that he would die trying to be a hero, although most would probably say that he’d die doing something pigheaded. He figured this was as good of a compromise as any.

It came like a ping, and Castiel knew where to go. Death was a part of life, and it was his job to help the wary souls pass through the gate into heaven. He often approached the situation with eager anticipation, and when little Charlie Bradbury’s face flashed in front of his eyes, the ache in his chest that was always there pressed a little more insistently.

He could move with a single thought. It was not like most people assumed, there were no large fantastical wings, adorned with thousands of golden feathers. He instinctively reached back behind him, grasping for the place where his wings would’ve been. Compared to what people expected, his travel was lackluster at best, but it was effective nonetheless.

The apartment was on fire, blazing angrily around him. By the look of things, it had to be hot, painfully so, but he couldn’t feel the heat on his face, and there was no risk of danger to him as his eyes scanned for Charlie.

His eyes were made to locate lost souls, which glowed radiantly, even as they still lingered inside of their bodies. It wasn’t difficult to locate her once he adjusted his perception. She was lodged underneath collapsed ceiling materials, gasping for breath. A piece of wood had pierced her chest, and she was still trying to breathe into her oxygen mask. The tube ran underneath the rubble and connected to a man. Castiel hadn’t noticed him previously.

He stepped over the collapsed ceiling and crouched next to him, he had to wait for Charlie to disconnect, anyway, so Castiel had a little time. He was a fireman, still completely in his gear apart from his mask that was given to the little girl. His face was covered in soot, but even through the black, Castiel could see that his cheekbones were dusted with freckles. The fireman’s full lips were open, his breaths weak and labored. It wasn’t his time, Castiel knew, but his arm was trapped below the fallen beam. He looked like he’d given up.

He wasn’t granted the ability to perform miracles, but there was still something that he could do. There was always something. Castiel reached out his hand and pressed his open palm to the man’s chest. Dean Winchester . The name rushed into his mind in an instant, and Castiel focused on his own grace, willing Dean to breathe in deeply, for his lungs to repel the smoke long enough for him to get to safety. He focused his strength on giving Dean the will to live. Sometimes that was enough.

The fireman’s eyes shot open as he sucked in a deep, easy breath. He coughed a few times, spitting up black saliva, and then Dean looked at him. His face was a breath away from Castiel’s, his green eyes were alert and Castiel wished that he could see his own reflection in them. He knew that if he had the need to breathe, that Dean would’ve taken his breath away. He opened his mouth as if to speak, to ask Dean if he could see him, but Dean’s eyes flickered away, and he pulled on his arm again.

The arm was stuck, Castiel saw that it was too much for him to pull himself free. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t shake that look that Dean had given him. He stood up to full height and reached down, pulling up the beam just enough for Dean to pull his arm free. Dean winced, and laughed breathlessly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

You’re welcome, Castiel thought, not trusting his own voice.

Dean’s arm was twisted wrong, blood staining his rig, but despite the pain that he had to be in, he hurried to his feet and began to call out. “Charlie, hey kid! Can you hear me?”

Castiel closed his eyes for just a second at the realization that Dean was in the fire to save her. He was trying to save someone that could not be saved. There was a rustling, and Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean throwing pieces of rubble away, exposing the little girl lying on her back gasping for breath. It was too late, it would’ve always been too late.

“No, no, no!” Dean fell back to his knees, moving the useless mask away from her bluing lips. He put his ear next to her mouth looking for breathing signs, and his fingers pressed to her throat searching for a pulse.

Castiel had been an observer in many tragedies, and he’d seen the way people react to situations of dire emergency, but what he saw Dean do surprised him, and he hadn’t been aware that he could still be surprised.

Dean took his broken arm, pressing his palm against her sternum with a wince, and he pressed his other palm over the bottom one, lacing his fingers. He was counting, low, his voice full of pain as he pressed down on her chest, trying to get her heart to start back up. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Live , damn it!”

Something was stirring inside of Castiel, something that he didn’t know was possible, something that he didn’t yet have a name for.

“You ain’t taking her. You hear me?” A pair of green eyes met Castiel’s again, causing him to still completely. Dean was looking at him, like he was a man. “Not today! Not on my watch!”

Dean looked wary as he turned his face back down to Charlie, still pushing with all that he could, but the fire was still intense and rising around him. Castiel frowned, knowing that she was a lost cause, but not knowing how to communicate that to the stubborn man fighting in front of him.

Castiel was fixed on the movement of Dean’s body as he attempted to pump life back into Charlie when he noticed a small tug at his trench coat. He glanced down to find Charlie Bradbury standing next to him in her pajamas, her skin and clothes clean. She glowed brightly as she blinked at Castiel confused. “Who are you?”

“My name is Castiel,” he said, crouching down at her level. He offered his hand out to her, and she stared at it suspiciously. He smiled at her. People often thought that children were far too trusting, but he found that their honesty made them trusting of only those who deserved it. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” he said simply and as their fingers brushed he sent a rush of calm through her. She exhaled in response, her eyes fluttering shut.

There was a crash, a breaking of glass in the other room. “Dean,” someone called out. It was a female voice. Dean called out something that Castiel wasn’t sure was even English, sending the female firefighter bursting through the flames in his direction. “We have to go, idiot.” She stopped, her eyes settling on Dean and Charlie’s lifeless body. She shook her head. “Oh Dean, come on, we have to go. How long has she been down?”

“I can get her, I can…”

“Come on, let me help.” She crouched down, putting her arm under Charlies neck, holding her.

His shoulders slumped. He stopped pressing against her chest. “No, I’ll take her,” Dean said, defeat in his voice. He slid his broken arm under Charlie’s body, protectively holding her against his chest.

The woman offered him a fire resistant blanket to wrap around the little girl’s frail, limp form, and she led Dean to the window.

“Mister Castiel?” Charlie asked, looking up at him.

He blinked a few times, not realizing how long he’d been staring. “Yes, little one?”

“Is Grandpa there?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, he is waiting.”

“Let’s go,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

So Castiel gripped her hand a little tighter, feeling the need to keep her close to him after watching Dean try so hard to fight for her, try just to fail. It was so beautifully human. He turned, seeing the white glowing light of the door to Heaven swinging open for them, and they walked easily over the rubble and through the fire, into the next life.

“But Lieutenant!”

“But nothin’ ya idjit!” Singer shouted back.

Dean sat in his office, his face down turned in embarrassment. He had climbed down the ladder, holding Charlie in his arms, and delivered her lifeless body to her weeping mother. His arm was twisted all to hell, and he was going to have to be in a cast for at least two weeks to fix it. He had other burns and serious smoke damage, but more than anything his ass was getting skinned by his boss. “I was tryin’...”

“I don’t give a shit, Winchester,” Singer sighed, scratching his beard. “Listen, son, I know what you were trying to do. The fact is that you ignored my direct orders and went on the run, and then you ignored more and got yourself hurt.”

And I didn’t even save her. He wanted to scream, break his fucking arm again. “So what?”

He shook his head, leaning across the chest. “You’re suspended until I get a call from your doc sayin’ that you’re permitted to come back. So go home, rest, and get your fucking life together.” He waved his hand, dismissing Dean.

Dean knew that he was being let off easy, and maybe it was the fact that Lieutenant Bobby Singer had a soft spot for him, or maybe it was the fact that Dean almost killed himself trying to save a seven year old girl that he couldn’t save.

He couldn’t save her, but the girl's mother still hugged him tightly and cried. He was invited to the funeral, and if he was being honest, it all seemed like way too fucking much. But he was a glutton for punishment, so he knew that he wouldn’t miss it for anything.

He stood up and walked out of the office, and went straight to his bunk to grab the rest of his stuff. He’d already moved a few things, expecting nothing less than a suspension. Singer was chomping at the bit to get him to take some time off, so the required time off was a good compromise.

He adjusted the sling on his arm, the strap rubbing against his neck. He grabbed his clothes, shoving them haphazardly into his duffle bag. Jo leaned against the doorframe of his quarters. “Got the boot?”

Dean snorted and glanced at her. “Singer doesn’t want to see my face until my doc says I’m healed.” He waved his bad arm with a wince.

“I’ll miss your face around here, Dean, but if you keep at it you’ll end up getting yourself killed. Maybe a little vacation will be good for you.”

“Smug doesn’t suit you, Harvelle,” Dean grumbled.

“Everything suits me,” she said dismissively.

He zipped up his duffel with his one arm with some difficulty and a grunt. He picked it up and swung it over his uninjured shoulder. “You seen Sam anywhere?”

“Benny drove him home when you were getting patched up.”

“Great.” Dean let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t need help with anything before I go, do you?”

“Nu uh, Winchester,” Jo said, walking towards him and taking his arm. “I am not going to help you disobey orders. Get the fuck out.” She dragged him out to the front of the firehouse. “I’ll see you later, okay? I got you a Netflix subscription. I texted you the login details.”

Dean stumbled out into the street, the clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the sun. He grimaced at the sky, feeling like the weather was a little too on the nose with how he was feeling. He made his way to the Loop and found one of the only seats away from other people, his bag resting on his lap. He stared out the window, watching Chicago zip past him in a blur.

He’d lived in the same old Brownstone his entire life. They’d redone the inside of the house after the fire, so the inside was different but still the same. When he looked really closely, he could still see the scorch marks under the paint on the ceiling in their bedroom. He used it as his office now, but he was rarely there, keeping the door shut at almost all times.

Dean’s father had disappeared into the night. It was the typical cliche, he went out for cigarettes and never came back. He’d had a revolving door of family members watching over him and the apartment until he turned eighteen two years later. It was already paid for, his grandfather Henry having purchased it with the little money he had coming home from the war when he was young. Dean couldn’t give it up, no matter how much he hated being there, no matter how much his old bedroom kept him from sleeping.

He hopped off the Loop a few blocks away from his place and enjoyed the fresh air, because he knew that the next few weeks would be suffocating. He could already feel the pressure on his chest, constricting his lungs. He unlocked the front door, taking one last deep breath before he crossed the threshold.

“Sam,” he called out, tossing his duffel bag on the couch. “They suspended me! That’s some bullshit, right?”

He walked to the fridge and swung it open, grinning wide as soon as he saw that Benny had stocked it full of beer. He pulled one out, struggling with the bottle opener with only one good hand. “Everyone is pissed that I went in against orders. I was just tryin’ to save her, and maybe if I’d got there sooner…” He finally got the cap off, letting out a heavy sigh. He took a swig of his beer and leaned against the counter. “Sammy, you listening to me? Are you mad at me too? Sam?”

Dean heard the footsteps before he saw him. He turned and crouched down to catch his massive chocolate lab in his good arm. He wrapped it around the dog's neck, scratching behind his ears. “Aw, Sammy I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.” He laughed as Sam licked his cheek.

He was never a dog person before he got Sam, but on one of the first house fires that he worked, he’d seen this little puppy in the corner, howling and whimpering. He couldn’t just leave the poor thing there to burn, so he carried him out of the burning building and fell in love with the little guy. It wasn’t often that dogs were allowed in firehouses anymore, but the entire team loved Sammy. He was quiet and well behaved, and when Dean went home he took Sam with him. He liked to joke that Sam was the only other living being that he could live with permanently since everyone else drove him stir-crazy. Sammy was happy to see him no matter what he did, and he didn’t give him that disappointed look that everyone else seemed to have.

“Just me and you for a few weeks, buddy,” Dean murmured, scratching behind his ear, already feeling the quiet from his apartment creep around him like smoke, like a curse.

Castiel stood on top of Willis Tower, overlooking Chicago as it transitioned from day to night. All the flights flickered in, illuminating the thousands, millions of angels standing around the city on street corners, ledges of buildings, lamp posts, vehicles… everywhere the air touched was also touched by an angel. They were the soldiers, the messengers of god.

There was a sound of flapping, for just a moment, as if Hannah was taking land as she appeared next to Castiel with only a thought, a breath. She wore a simple suit, much like Castiel’s own. Her hair was plain brown, simple, but she was pretty in her own regard. She was his very best friend, if angels had such a thing.

“Castiel,” Hannah said pleasantly, lowering herself to a seated position so her legs hung off the edge of the building. He followed suit, sitting next to her.

They did this every day, sitting on the edge of the buildings and watching the sun disappear over the horizon. They sat, talked, and when the last rays of sun touched the earth they were quiet.

“I escorted a little girl today,” he said, squinting at the buildings, his hands clasped in his lap.

“What was her favorite part?” Hannah asked. She could seem disinterested, but for most of Castiel’s brothers and sisters it was just easier that way. Angels were not known to have the capacity to feel, so most didn’t bother to fake it.

For Castiel, though, it was different. His curiosity with humanity often pushed him to the edge of what was expected of him. He’d always been a bit of a black sheep.

He reached into his trench coat and pulled out a small notebook. He licked his index finger to catch a page, turning it easily. Hannah gave him a look, like she didn’t quite understand, but she was quiet nonetheless. “Her favorite part of being human,” Castiel said lightly, with a smile, “was the marshmallows in her morning Lucky Charms.”

“Sugar,” Hannah said with a knowing nod. “Not quite insightful.”

It wasn’t, but he still wondered. How did it taste ? He tried to close his eyes sometimes and imagine it, just for a moment. He tried to imagine what one of those tiny morsels would feel like on his tongue, melting away, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t grasp onto it. Most days, those thoughts left him more hollow than ever, the emptiness whistling through him like through a chip in a glass.

“She asked if she could become an angel,” he said quietly.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“I didn’t want to upset her.”

“Castiel, she can’t be an angel.” She reached for the hand of her friend and patted it gently. “We were never human.”

“I know.” Castiel let out a heavy sigh.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth, but I did offer to make her wings out of paper.” He turned to Hannah, offering her a wide grin.

“And what did she say about that?”

“She said, what good would wings be if you couldn't feel the wind on your face?” His voice was solemn, quiet, catching the breeze and floating away with it. He reached his hand out for the breeze, trying desperately to feel something, anything . “Do you ever wonder what that would be like?”

“What are you asking?”

“Touch… do you ever wonder what it would be like to feel ?”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line, in a thought, a consideration. Her eyes were focused elsewhere, out into the distance, and when she opened her mouth to speak, he’d never heard her so hesitant, so unsure. It wasn’t in their nature. “No.”

He could feel the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile. “Did you just lie to me?”

Her eyes flickered to his, and she pursed her lips. “Of course not. It’s pointless to wonder about things that you’ll never experience. It is a waste of time. You should stop this nonsense, Castiel, it may get you in trouble one day.”

He knew that, of course he did, but he couldn’t stop, not until the questions that plagued him had answers, and another one had been drilling into his mind since the moment he saw Dean Winchester’s magical green eyes lock with his in the midst of that fire. “Hannah, have you ever been seen?”

“My, you are inquisitive today.” She laughed to herself, a small exhale out of her nose, before her dark eyes flickered to his blue ones. “Of course not, Castiel. Humans can’t see us, not unless we want them to.”

“When I went to get the little girl today… there was this fireman, and I could’ve sworn that he looked right at me.”

“He wasn’t looking at you.”

Castiel swallowed hard, because he knew that she was right. Dean wasn’t looking at him, he was looking directly into him, past the outer layers and into his soul.

Hannah must’ve noticed his hesitation, because she leaned in closer to him. “You didn’t let him see you, did you, Castiel?”

Did he? He shook his head. “No. He didn’t… comment on what he saw, but he seemed like he was looking at me.”

“Your head is in the clouds,” she said fondly, turning her face back out to the sparkling lights from the city.

That was him, Castiel, the angel with his head in the clouds, but was that so unreasonable? To him, it seemed like a logical place for an angel’s head to be. The time for talk, questions, and judgement was over, because the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, emitting a beautiful hum almost like the first note on a violin. Even though he didn’t know God personally, his purpose, or why he couldn’t get those green eyes out of his mind, at least he had the song in the sunset, because when he heard it, feeling it rush through him into his bones, he had all the answers that he needed. That song gave him faith. That song helped him see God.

But that day, in that exact moment, the song sounded different… It sounded like Dean.

-------------------------

Part Two

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futurewriter2000 · 6 years

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Combatants ~ Part 8 ~ final part

A/N: Oh my god, final part is out and this means its over. I finally stopped torturing them. I just want to say because this is the last part that this imagine/fan fic is really important to me. I wrote it when I was in a really dark place and it helped me get through it with the help of you guys and your feedback.

WARNING: Angst (typical), fluff,...

TAGS: @nadinissavage, @lexi-thechaosqueen, @grey-raven, @alohomagines, @bestillmystuckyheart, @maddyfitzhenry, @astrophileslytherin, @literally-anythin, @fashionlive15, @hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades, @robyn-0790, @beyoursnow, @oreofrappiewithblueberry, @deanilostmyshoe, @hellboundblogger, @thewinterquicksilver, @geeksareunique

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

When you opened your eyes you weren’t in Hogwarts anymore. Your head was pounding and it took you a while to realize where you truly are. It was a dark, cold room with ripped wallpapers on the walls and right next to you was Bruto, tied to a chair just like you. Trying to move and free yourself from the chair, the ropes only tightned and squeezed your chest. ‘They must have used a charm.’ you thought to yourself before looking up at the two men standing right in front of you.

“Twelve years ago men in blue took my father away. It was the worst day in my life. He left me with two little boys and a wolf to take care of. And I did. I ran far away with two boys in my arms and promised father to protect my little brothers. And I did. We hid in this small, deserted house with barely anything to eat. A year later men in blue found us and took us away, seperating Zebedaiah from us. I was furious with them. They took my little brother and gave it to someone else’s family. Yours.” he growled and leaned towards you. “When they wanted to take Gray away I wanted to ripp their heads of. And I did. I brought my little Toto and he did all the work for me instead.” he chuckled and turned around to Gray.

“We decided to pay your parents a visit.” continued Gray and walked towards you. “It was hard to find them but we did. Of course seeing our little brother playing with a young (y/h/c) girl emerged some unplanned jealousy. Because there you were playing with my younger brother while I had to stand on the side and watch it. “

“When you walked inside, I came over to Zoey and talked to him. He was so innocent, so pure and as soon as looked up to me with his green eyes I realized how much I missed him. Of course that was the day I promised him I will get him back. It was facinating. His hair. Just like my mother. It’s a genetic thing, that my family had for years. Like my grandfather had heterochromia, Gray inherited different colored eyes from him and his navy blue hair from my uncle, just like Monty. But Zoey. It was like seeing my mother once more with his green eyes. The same green eyes he got from my mother. Me? I inherited everything from my father. Except my hair. Those love to change color on the light as you might have noticed. See...my father, unlike me, is a horrifying man. You think I am a monster, you should have met him. But luckly for you he is locked away so that’s probably never going to happen.”

“Lucky for us too.” mumbled Gray.

Collin shot his head towards Gray and angrly walked towards him. He grabbed him by the neck and lift him and backed him against the wall. “If it wasnt for him we would still be rotting in that hell hole for what I know! Do not disrespect him in front of me!” he roared and squeezed him tighter.

“Get.off.me.” growled Gray and glared at his brother as he let go of him.

“See (y/n). Like every villian, I have a story too.” he smiled and knelt down to you.

“A villian my arse.” you scoffed and glared at his dark eyes. “More like a pathetic fool.”

Collin chuckled and walked towards Bruto. “You know I always liked you. No matter what you did, I still liked you. I kind of had a soft spot for you Wolfie. Funny right.” he smiled and pulled out a knife. “As for this lad over here.” he spoke in a different, lower tone. “This lad pissed me off.” he snarled and gently brushed his knife against his thigh. “You know Gray told me about this thing. What is it called again brother?”

“Polyjuice potion.” answered Gray gritting his teeth and glaring at Collin.

“Polyjuice potion.” he chuckled. “That.” he added before his face turned completly flat. He pushed the knife in Bruto’s thigh and started twisting it. “You should have never done that!” he growled making Bruto yelp from pain. He pulled the knife out and stabbed the other thigh. “Pretending to be Zoey! I almost believed you! “

“Stop it Collin! “ you yelled.

“Would you rather see Toto do all the work? I bet you want to know how he ripped your parents apart.” he cackled, turning to the door and letting out a whistle.

And there he was. A large white wolf with dark viscious eyes. His fur was long and white as snow as his nose was dark with a small light orange stripe streching right on the middle of it. There was still some blood on his paws and as soon as he smelled the blood he moved towards Bruto.

“NO! You can’t do this!!” you begged, tears falling down your cheeks and struggling to break away from the charm. “Please! Collin don’t do this!”

But Toto was already approaching Bruto. You looked over to Gray, who turned his eyes away from the scene. He didn’t want to see this. He always hated this part, hell he never wanted to be part of this in the first place.

“Jack!” you yelled. “Jack please don’t let him do this! You are supposed to be my best friend. My best friend! Didn’t the time we spent together mean anything to you!?”

Looking at your broken (y/e/c) eyes he felt horrible. Your eyes that seemed to dig deep in his soul, he didn’t know he had. And yes. You meant the world to him. He loved your funny comments, your reactions when he says something dirty, or the way you surprise him with even more dirtier thoughts. He loved you like a sister. He thought of you that way too. You were always there for him. Either was it being annoying or making him feel better everytime he was down. You were there for him in a way Collin never was,

And with Bruto. He cared for the guy even though he was a dick. Bruto was there when you weren’t. And when the two of you bickered, he used to watch and just laugh at his roomate and his best friend fighting over him.

But he was bad. He was supposed to be bad. Right?

You looked over to Bruto, whose eyes were still stuck on you. There was a small smile appearing on his lip. “I love you (y/n). Don’t forget that.” he spoke in a croaky and brittle voice.

“No.” you whispered, feeling tears fall down your cheeks.

The wolf was close to Bruto by now. His snout sniffing him from his toes to his thighs and his eyes suddenly turning red.

“Avada Kadavra!” yelled Gray, pulling his wand at the wolf and blasting a green light out of it. Toto was blasted away and dead on the scene.

“NO!” yelled Collin running to the wolf. He put his hands under his head and stroked him. Toto was dead. The only thing he had of his mother was gone. “You killed him!” he shouted turning his head to Gray.

“Good. That wolf deserved it.” spat Gray, putting away his wand and glaring at his brother.

“This wolf was the only thing left of her! This wolf was her’s!” yelled Collin, walking over to his brother and stopping only an inch away from him.

“And you think she would want her wolf to kill innocent people! Collin this wolf attacked Zoey when he was 4 years old no wonder they took him away!” shouted Gray, standing his ground and looking at his brother.

“They were not innocent!!”

“Yes they were Collin! They were innocent people, who just wanted to adopt our baby brother so he could have a normal family life! A family who loves him and keeps him safe!”

“We could have done that! We could have been that family!”

“What is wrong with you!?! Mom is dead, dad is in prison and you are a murderer! You took away any chance Zoey had at a normal life by taking her parents! If you really cared for him you would let them live!”

“But father-”

“What father Collin!?! He was a terrible father to us! He made us do horrible things. Since we were young we had to steal and lie for him. We had to do things no kid should do!”

“That’s what made us strong. That’s what made us survive.”

“No! That’s what made our family fall apart! That’s what put us here in the first place. God Collin you are just like him!”

“Shut up Gray!” roared Collin, pushing Gray away and clenching his fist. When Gray got up, he stormed at Collin but was knocked down before he could do anything.

He turned around to face you. His eyes burning with fire as he walked over to you and rocked the chair backwards. “You did this!” he growled pulling out his knife. “You bitch!”

“Leave her alone Collin!” yelled Gray and pulled out his wand. “Immobulus!”

As soon as Collin froze in his position, Gray ran towards Bruto. He knelt down, checking his wounds. “Tergeo.” he spoke quietly, pointing his wand on his bleeding wounds.

“You piece of shit Gray! Unfreeze me!” shouted Collin.

“Sorry brother.” smirked Gray and taped his mouth. “I bet father will love to see you.”

“You helped us.” you mumbled quietly and looked ove to the curly hair boy.

“What Collin did...it was wrong.” he sighed, turning to you and untying you from the chair. “What I did....was wrong too.”

“Jack...”

“I’m sorry (y/n). For everything I did I am sorry. I understand if you don’t forgive me for what I did to you, but I just want you to know that I am deeply sorry for what I have done. “ he blubbered and took your hands. “I love you (y/n). Not in the way Black does but I do care for you. I care bloody a lot and I need you in my life, I really do.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug. “I need you too,” you sobbed and gripped him tighter. “But you scared the hell out of me.”

“I know and I swear I’ll change. I don’t want to be a bad person (y/n).“

You pulled away from the hug and cupped his cheeks. “You’re not.” you smiled and brushed the tears away.

“Not to interrupt your heart-to-heart moment but I almost died today and I can barely walk. So could we just go home already?” asked Bruto making the both of you chuckle.

----

“Sirius.” said James, staring at his best friend jumping his leg for the last 15 minutes. “Sirius.” he repeated but got no reaction from him.

“SIRIUS!” barked Remus making Sirius shot his head up.

“Yeah.”

“I swear if you don’t stop jumping that leg I’ll make sure I’ll eat you alive in my werewolf form. For God’s sake I’ve been reading the same page for 15 minutes.” he snapped and sent Sirius a threatning glare.

“Oh well you try pouring your feelings to a girl and then get blasted 10 feet in the air by that Jack guy only to wake up in a hospital and then finding out she’s gone.” said Sirius standing up from the couch and pacing the room.

“Yeah but now she’s back and well.” comforted James, closing his book and looking up at his pacing friend.

“And I still haven’t got a chance to see her.” he sighed and stopped pacing. “Why doesn’t Madam P just let me in?” he huffed and threw himself on the armchair.

“Maybe she hates you.” chuckled James. “Just a thought.”

“Why would she hate me?” asked Sirius, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Beside the fact you call her Madam P, remember third year when you tried to heal me but only got my leg all squishy.” replied James.

“Oh I remember that!” smiled Remus, finally closing his book and engaging in the conversation. “And then you made it flop around.” he started laughing.

“Fun times.” smiled James and laughed along.

“Oh and remember the time Remus came with a broken nose and we tried to fix it with a healing charm but we hexed him instead.” laughed Sirius.

“We just turned 12 and we thought we were such a bad-arses but we only made his head bigger.” added James and continued laughing.

----

And there you were, just entering the portret hole with Peter and finding him with one of the brightest smiles in the room. “Oi guys. Look who I found.” smiled Peter making the others turn around.

“Hello boys!” you beamed.

As soon as he saw you he just stood there. He just stood there and stared at you. He couldn’t believe you were finally back.

Seeing Sirius’ smile grow bigger, James smiled at you and stood up. “Okay so we’ll just leave the two of you alone and if you need us we’ll just be upstairs. Eavesdropping.” said James, winking at you and pulling the other two upstairs.

When the two of you were left alone, a loud silence entered the room. You looked over to Sirius, his eyes set on yours and his thoughts completly lost.

“Well if you’re not gonna break this awkward silence than I-”

But before you could finish the sentance he was already pressing his lips onto yours. One of his hands on your waist while the other was running through your hair, you simply started kissing him back. Finally after all this anger, tension and lust you got the kiss you were craving for months. But before you could deepen it he pulled away.

“I’m done waiting and talking.” he smiled pulled you into another kiss.

-----

After graduation Sirius and you moved in together. It was a small apartment, near James and Lily and the two of you just had a small party, celebrating Sirius’ new job as an Auror. Everybody was here, Peter, Marlene, Mary, Remus, Bruto and Gray except for James and Lily.

“What are they even doing? They basicly live next door.” huffed Remus and took another sip of his coffee.

“I could think of a few things they might be doing.” grinned Sirius and put down a big bottle of firewhiskey.

There was a big groan from the whole group. “ Come on Sirius. One party without alcohol.” said Remus and rolled his eyes.

“I am young. I just got a job. You’ll drink whatever I tell you to drink.” he smiled and started pouring it the glasses.

“I just got dumped so bring it Black. I need to get wasted.” cheered Bruto, lifting his glass.

“The best way to heal a broken heart. Alcohol!” exculted Sirius and poured him the firewhiskey.

“Yeah but if he gets drunk I won’t be the one dragging him home.” chided Remus and took another sip of his coffee.

----

“Remus be still! I can’t tie your shoes!” laughed Sirius, trying to tie his shoes.

“I don’t want to go! I want whiskeyyy! “ shouted Remus walking away from Sirius, but was soon pulled back by Bruto.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get wasted because this git drank the whole bottle.” sighed Bruto and put Remus’ arm around his shoulder.

“Thank you Bruto for taking care of him.” you thanked while wrapping an arm around Sirius.

“Yeah whatever.” he scoffed and walked out of the door. “ But I’m getting wasted next time!” he shouted from behind.

You chuckled and walked in the kitchen. “I can’t believe you made him drink the whole bottle. How is he even alive?”

He came from behind, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your cheek. “It must be the werewolf thing or something.” he grinned and turned your around.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently scratched the back of his neck. “You know I still haven’t given you my present for you getting a new job.” you grinned and slowly brushed your lips agains his.

“Oh yeah. I wonder what it is?” he grinned and slid his hands under your shirt.

“Maybe you should ask James and Lily.”

Pulling him down to kiss him, you were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door. You looked up to Sirius only to see mischivious grey eyes looking back.

“Are you expecting someone?” you asked and walked towards the door.

“I might.”

When you opened the door, you almost collapsed on the ground. He was there. Short curly torquise hair with blonde strands and green eyes. Tall 17 year old boy, wearing the biggest smile and showing off his dimples.

“Well are you just going to stand there or give your brother a hug.” he smiled and opened his arms.

“Come here.” you said and wrapped your arms around him. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. Your brother was finally here, in your arms, well and alive. It was so long, so long you couldn’t even remember the last time you saw him. But he was here and you just couldn’t let go.

“I can’t breathe.” he chuckled and let go of you.

“You’re taller than me.” you smiled, letting tears of joy roll down your cheeks. “And you cut your hair.”

“And you have your own apartment.” he chuckled and gave you another hug.

You looked over to Sirius, who was leaning on the wall and smiling at the two of you. “You did this?” you asked him.

“Sirius somehow found where I live and wrote me a letter to come over. “ explained Zoey and shook Sirius hand. “ Nice to meet you officially.”

“Likewise.” smiled Sirius and lead him to the living room.

When Zoey went to the kitchen, you pulled Sirius by the sleeve and pressed your lips onto his. “I love you Sirius Black.”

“I love you too.”

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #james potter #remus lupin #james potter imagine #remus lupin imagine #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #i

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gyromitra-esculenta · 6 years

Text

Synchronicity 13

F.E.A.R.!AU And we are out of the Talon blacksite by the end of this chapter. This is mostly combat porn. Also, introducing Sombra as Paxton and Jesse as Point Man. Jack's dissolution of reality is really fun to write. On the other hand, the most tedious (and secretly entertaining) thing is keeping track of his inventory.

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(...)Lips pressed against his back, just below his neck; a thumb lazily rubbing circles into his arm; their legs tangled together.

Something skitters on his palm and Jack flicks it off absentmindedly.

“Have you ever thought about later?” (...)

***

(…)

A man with a grudge and a case

A man with intent on his face

And if a man walks into place

Let it be known I won't hesitate

(…)

The mechanical hiss makes him glance over the makeshift cover – one of the hatches in the ground opens giving way to the rising black matte container – big enough to contain a human, barely. The coffin. That’s how they call it. He can feel the visceral knowledge claw at his insides, the acidic panic, the claustrophobic pressure on his mind.

It stops with a jerk. Jack tightens his grip on the Seegert.

The container opens slowly, agonizingly so, and from the inside stumbles out a masked figure dressed in a strangely familiar uniform yet nondescript enough he cannot place the affiliation. There is an ‘S114’ printed on his left breast in bold white letters. The man almost trips and then straightens, his posture undergoing a complete shift in the split second between the actions.

Jack has his eyes on the rifle held ready in the enemy’s hands, waits for the barrel to swing away from his position as the man scans the room. There is only a slim window for action, growing even smaller with two other hatches activating.

He climbs over the wall in one fluid movement and launches himself at the enemy, sending them both sprawling to the ground, twisting his pistol to the man’s neck and firing several times, lets go of the grip and grasps for the rifle, tears it away from the twitching fingers.

“Enemy sighted.”

Shit. Jack clenches his teeth and ducks behind the coffin offering close to no protection. They will flank him, it’s the basic maneuver. Any movement will put him in the line of fire, and even this cover is fleeting, the whole container shudders when the lid closes, and it starts to sink back underneath the surface of the training range. Inhale.

He dashes to the right, not bothering with blind cover fire, to lean against the concrete partition. Ignoring such risks as negligible is well within the usually calculated simulation parameters. Soldiers like this are expendable. Exhale.

The rifle, Patten – he smirks, lines of it fluid under his touch, not their usual loadout, but he’s familiar with it – should have the full magazine in. Thirty rounds. Good stopping power, moderate armor piercing capability. Bad news if the others are armed with those, still more of a fighting chance for him.

Inhale. Listen. A crunch to the left. Around ten paces back. His hands are wet with sweat. Visualize the height and the posture. Reconstruct the room. A sound of fabric from the right side. Build the replica in your mind. Exhale.

Inhale, prepare, rise up. Hold your breath. Shoot. The man jerks back and breaks in half when the bullets from the short burst impact with his mask. Chips from the concrete brush Jack’s cheek. Duck behind the cover. Exhale.

His heart is thudding in his chest. Close, too close. Again, the whirr of the machinery, two more coffins. He won’t last here long. There is a touch of hysteria to those thoughts, he knows, but knowing is different from managing. His fingers are becoming jittery, spasming on their own without control. The Beast grips his left wrist. Grounds him.

“Remember, Sunshine,” the oily sound coils itself around his mind. Inhale. The magazine should have around twenty-six bullets now. Three targets. Exhale. Accumulate the tension in the muscles. Prepare. The sound of the coffins popping open simultaneously. Inhale.

“Flanking.”

Jack springs out of the cover to the left, keeping low. The sound of the gunfire chases him as he moves in a semicircle. He passes the body on the ground and flings himself behind another partition. The dead soldier lies halfway out of the cover, he grabs his leg and hauls him closer with a strong jerk of his arms. He snags the two grenades, pulls the pin on one, counts down, and throws it over the cover blindly. The other one follows just as the dust brought up by the first explosion flows over the concrete to his side.

“Compromised. Need reinforcements.”

This gives him the time to eject the magazine from the dead man’s rifle. Around fifty-six bullets now. Two targets. Inhale. Jack leans out of the cover. He can see one enemy, crawling on the ground, one leg torn off above the knee, the other just a bloody mess under the ragged fabric. Lucky throw. The second soldier is hidden from his view now.

The man manages to lift his gun with one hand, the other bracing for purchase on the ground. Fuck. Do they even feel pain? Do they even register it? Jack cannot wrap his mind around the concept. Exhale. Shoot. One bullet through the mask. Fifty-five left, rough estimate. He notices three more black shapes in the gaps between the obstacles, at least two of them already open. No time to panic. Need to change position. Four targets now, minimum. Inhale.

He maps out the layout, the explosions still ringing in his ears. Exhale. Move on the outer rim of the range, sprint along the wall, pass the car. Inhale. He moves with the purpose, changing position, in the open…

“Target sighted.”

With the electronic voice comes the impact. It feels like a jackhammer to his side, then a short blackout as he topples down. Desperately, he drags himself forward. Hyperventilating. He rips off the helmet – his head is buzzing, his vision swims – the thing is dented where the bullet hit.

Every breath hurts. The vest held on the chest. His left side is numb and cold. Don’t look. He traces his fingers over the hole, its ridges already wet. He’s going to die here. Jack cranes his neck down.

“Don’t look, Sunshine,” the voice stops him, ghostly fingers rest over his hand. Don’t look. Might stave off the shock. It’s still numb, does not bode well. He’s behind the damned burned out car frame, it offers little protection. He grasps for the dropped rifle. His hand is slick with blood. “Hold your breath.”

He can hear them converging on his position. He’s going to die here.

The screen on the wall, he can see it from here, and there is a movement that catches his eye, a swath of color, purple, violet, pink? The person – woman – stops before the nightmarish chair holding the misshapen twitching human. There is a snap of neon lines in the air and the creature is literally ripped apart into pieces that fall separately around the contraption raining blood.

His lungs begin to burn.

“Exhale,” the Beast orders and Jack does as he is told to do. The next breath comes slowly, unfurls in his chest at the same time the pain in his side slowly comes into focus, stabbing, living. Good. Pain means time.

“My Los Muertos, they dared, they dared to belittle them with… with this!?” The woman’s voice booms over the speakers. Jack pulls himself up a bit, to look back through the window of the frame. No, he won’t question why the soldiers now just stand in place, swaying lightly, like dormant hanging marionettes with no-one to pull their strings. “This fake?”

“Feeling obsolete, bitch?” Another voice, thick with the accent, joins in. His head snaps to the side, searching against reason. McCree.

“Oh. I’ll show you obsolete and shove it up your ass, dear brother. But first,” she turns to the screen, her movements somehow birdlike in how her limbs snap into place viciously, “you killed them, but now you will die because they are with me as they should be.”

“Proceed,” comes from behind before the hail of bullets rips into the car. Jack curls on himself. Bullets perforate the brittle metal, something singes his cheek. Metal shavings bite into his skin. He’s going to die here, there’s too many of them. There is a new side of aggression in their offense. No space to act.

“Do you remember your training, Sunshine?” The Beast whispers insistently, but the training won’t help him now. Only the rifle, almost two magazines. Last stand. Force down the panic. You’re going to die, take them down with you. All soldiers are is lambs led to slaughter. A future banquet for worms. “Remember your training, Sunshine,” the Beast paces restlessly along the old gnarled tree. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not.” Jack feels the calm descend upon him, like a blanket, his breath slowing. His heart stills inside his chest. “You will take me with you when you go, won’t you?”

“It makes it easier, Sunshine,” the Beast smiles with all its fanged mouths, dark tongues lolling out in mirth. Clawed hand cups his bleeding cheek and for a moment Jack looks into crimson eyes. “You are always with me, and I, I am always with you.”

He glances to the side, at the bullet slowly sailing by his head, the air behind it stretching the prismatic luminosity in its wake, metal fragments exploding in points of unexpected brightness. All sounds distort and dampen. Jack inhales even as the wet stringy darkness tugs at the corners of his vision. He stands up with Patten braced against his shoulder.

Six targets total. Two shots per each, accuracy and precision. Watching the impact, the strange whiplash as he hits the targets – their bodies jerked violently with enough force to rip them apart at seams – is strangely satisfying. He feels the passing bullet ruffle his hair.

“This is it, Sunshine, this is how we are together, this is how we were meant to be, always,” the Beast coils between his fingers, nips at his neck, breathes the words into his ear, and he listens. “The hatch on the left,” its voice points out and Jack turns, runs, slides over the gravel and slips into the opening, his back contorting when he hits the lowering coffin. When he tumbles to the cold floor, the time and reality slam back into existence. Jack curls over the rifle, hands clutching at his side, the vicious stabs of pain bringing tears to his eyes. He feels saliva gathering in his mouth in reaction, and whimpers. No. Swallow even if it hurts only to think. He is dehydrated and bleeding. He cannot afford to… “I know, Sunshine,” claws rest on the nape of his neck almost non-threateningly, but the points dig into his skin deep, “you can’t rest here. You have to go.”

Yes. He can’t stay here, there are black coffins stacked on one another along the sides of the corridor, one of them actually being moved along the transportation line above him. It snaps into place below the hatch he used to escape the training range.

Jack moves to his knees, his grasp on the rifle faltering, and small whines of pain making it past the clenched teeth. With difficulty, he heaves himself up, left hand clasped over the bullet hole, and unsteadily follows forward. Each step burns. His breath shortens.

“You… you will take me with you… won’t you?” The darkness creeps into his vision as his right leg almost sinks under him. He manages to stabilize himself, leaning on the wall.

“I am always with you,” the Beast whispers back when he sinks into the grass, into the smell of a warm sunny afternoon – the richness of the green and the earth soothing in their onslaught. Lips pressed against his back, just below his neck; a thumb lazily rubbing circles into his arm; their legs tangled together.

Something skitters on his palm and Jack flicks it off absentmindedly.

“Have you ever thought about later?”

“You’d miss it.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Too broken and too intertwined to ever find another way, yet here, in this place, at this time, perfect and content, wrapped in each other, breathing in and out in symmetry to the music of the buzzing insects. Jack closes his eyes.

“Turn around.” The voice, it’s wrong, doesn’t belong here – wherever and whenever here is – sends shivers of cold down his spine. Nails sink into the skin of his arm. “Turn around.”

“…no,” he answers, the word breaking in half on the hitch of a breath.

“Remember your…”

“No, please, don’t make me do this, don’t take this from me,” Jack pleads with the inevitable. His fingers dig into the dirt, into the clumps of roots below, into things slithering under the surface. Cold hands close around his throat.

“This does not belong to you,” his doppelganger snarls at him spitting blood. “It never did! It never will!”

No, this is not his, and when the pressure lessens he opens his eyes to artificial light and the smell of cordite and ozone in the air along with the stink of burning plastic and circuitry, and something else he cannot place due to the strange haze that makes his fingertips tingle. Railing, he’s leaning against the railing, on a slightly raised platform over the rest of the chamber, and to the left, there is a half empty IV bag hanging, hooked to the metallic balustrade, the needle feeding its contents into his arm. By his side lies an emptied field kit, bandages and tape strewn around, some stained with blood.

Jack clenches his hand and starts. Morphine syringe. Used.

His vest is open. He lets go of the syringe and cautiously feels around the wound. It’s dressed. The touch makes him inhale sharply in pain. Past the threshold. Movement is going to be troublesome. Slowly, hissing under his breath and bracing against the railing, Jack stands up. The strange alien tug inside his stomach… the bullet is still in.

Now he can see the bodies below and still-smoking remnants of a powered armor.

“Do you understand now, Sunshine?” The Beast purrs snugly pressed against his chest. “Together, we are unstoppable. We will bring about the end.”

His hand hovers for a moment over the blinking console. No other time than now. He touches the prompt and looks up when he hears the grind of machinery. The enormous hatch in the ceiling opens raining dust and the platform starts, then laboriously moves upwards.

He can hear the feedback from his comm unit grow stronger.

“I’ll just find…” Lena. She stutters. “Jack!? That bloody you?”

“Yes. I think so.” He can’t keep the weary smile out of his voice.

“Bloody hell, you daft bugger, I was getting bloody worried…!”

“Lena.” It’s Winston, still calm and composed. “If anyone was going to get out of there on their own it was Morrison.”

“Bloody fucking right, Papa Winston.” Jack can hear the gears in her head turning. “I managed to hail Bunny, she’s working on bringing the meat wagon around but it’s the bloody apocalypse out there and traffic is killer. GPS is dead as fuck, but I dare say you’ll find the bloody stadium, right?”

“We will tear, we will rend, we will feast, together,” the Beast chortles, its maw pushing against his cheek in a needy way, and his hand pets it eliciting little whines of contentment. “Nothing will stand in our way.”

“Yes,” Jack confirms.

#sometimes I write #fear!AU #r76 #reaper76 #proper part #combat violence #Yass #this is a rewrite of less than 500 words #and finally we can go into the streets

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alwaysforyouscully · 7 years

Text

Strip Poker

Summary: MSR - After Goldberg Variation. Mulder and Scully consider how lucky they are.

Rating: R

As usual he and Scully didn’t see eye to eye but surprisingly she was humoring him a little more than normal. Mulder figures regular and if he says so himself, mind-blowing, sex has something to do with her improved tolerance.

They made their way from Chicago back to DC and as was the routine of late they headed to Scully’s apartment. Mulder was basically using his place as storage and a back up residence for when Scully came to her scenes and kicked him out.

They settled into their normal routine. Sorting the mail, checking messages and emptying suitcases.

Scully broke the silence, first. “I was thinking about Henry and if anyone can really be that lucky. I guess I always thought of myself as fortunate but not really lucky. What about you, Mulder, do you consider yourself lucky?”

“Well if you asked me seven years ago, I would have said no but I think my luck began to change just after that.” He grins at her and looks in her eyes, trying to tell her just what she has meant to him. “But I guess I really began to feel lucky a few months ago.”

Scully blushes at his implication that she had something to do with his current luckiness and swats his arm. “Mulder, please.”

“It’s true. I am one lucky son of a bitch, Scully. You have no idea what I would do just to keep what I have right now.” He leans in and pecks her cheek before heading to the bathroom.

She is taken aback by his confession not because she doesn’t feel the same but its really nothing they had discussed. She figured it was because neither wanted to say how they felt out loud, in case voicing their happiness would jinx it.

Scully changed into her usual lounge clothes of flannel pants, a t-shirt and sweatshirt still thinking about what Mulder had said. An idea pops into her head and she searches her desk. She spies what she is looking for and brings out a deck of cards. “Mulder? Are you feeling lucky, right now?”

Mulder comes of of the bathroom, wiping the remnants of toothpaste off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Umm, yeah I guess so, Scully. Why?

“I was just wondering, have you ever played strip poker?” Her current coed cuteness does nothing to hide her true intent behind her sexy smirk.

Mulder’s mouth goes dry at the thought of one of his earliest fantasies coming true. He spent many a stakeout thinking of ways to get Scully in various states of undress and strip poker was one of his favorites.

“Mulder?” She prompts

“Well, umm, I might have .. well…in college but…Scully.” He huffs a breath to calm himself and looks at the deck of cards in her hand.

“Oh Mulder, come on.” She takes his hand and leads him to the living room. ‘I’m feeling lucky.”

Once in the living room, Scully pushes the coffee table further away from the couch and sits in the space she just made.

Mulder sits facing her one arm on the couch as he watches her shuffle the deck.

In her no nonsense doctor voice, Scully says. “The rules are simple, 5 card draw, nothing wild and loser of each hand strips off a piece of clothing. First person naked is the loser. Any questions?

Mulder got lost somewhere between strip and naked but manages to answer. “Sure Scully, I got it. Its just strip poker, you know. Everybody has done it.

“Okay Mulder, let’s see how lucky you are and remember I did beat Henry.” Scully deals the first hand and grins at her cards. 2 Jacks, an Ace, 2 of clubs and 4 of hearts. She eyes Mulder and tries to work out his poker face.

Mulder grins at the cards in his hand, not because they are anything to smile at but he knows Scully is watching. 10 of diamonds, 8 of clubs, Jack of hearts and pair of sixes. Boy this is going to be quick.

“Dealer takes 2.” She says and plucks two cards off the top.

“3, Please” Mulder says as he drops the cards on the table. Scully draws 3 cards off the deck and hands them to him. Her fingers brush his and he shivers.

Mulder swallows and looks at his cards. Queen of Spades, a 2 of hearts and a 9 of clubs. Well sixes it is, he thinks.

Scully didn’t draw much better but still has the upper hand as she lays her cards on the table. Mulder does the same, concedes without comment and removes his shirt.

It surprises Scully that the sight of his bare chest makes her heart flutter. In all their years together she had seen him in all states of undress but now she knows how his muscles move when he is above her, how his skin smells at the end of the day and how he tastes after they make love. She is pulled from her thoughts by Mulder’s voice.

“Scully, are you going to deal? Also you have on more clothes than me, I think you’re trying to cheat me!”

She looks up and sees his boyish enthusiasm about winning. “Fine, Mulder. How’s this.” She pulls her sweatshirt over her head and her t-shirt inches up just enough for Mulder to get a glimpse of the skin on her belly.

He can’t even count all the times he’s seen that same patch of skin but now he knows just how soft it is, how its goosebumps feel under his tongue and how it quivers when she comes. He sucks in a breath and picks up his cards. “Okay, Scully. Lets see just who’s the lucky one now.”

Several hands later and Mulder is down to his underwear and Scully is in her t-shirt and panties. They have migrated closer to one another with each hand and are now sitting cross-legged and knee to knee. Scully’s nipples are hard and pressing against the fabric of her shirt. Mulder stopped shifting to hide his erection 3 hands ago because there really was no reason at this point.

Scully is eyeing her cards and Mulder knows that look, she has crap. Lucky for him he has 3 sevens. He can hardly wait for this round to end because for at least one more hand he will get to stare at her bare breasts without shame.

Scully lays her cards on the table as does Mulder and she sees that it is her turn to shed a piece of clothing. Instead of pulling her shirt over her head as Mulder suspected, she stands and slips her panties down her legs.

“Shit, Scully.” He breathes and grasps her hand. “Come here.”

She protests lightly, trying to pull her hand from his. “We have one more hand, Mulder”

“Scully, I’m barely holding out now. You win. Any and all kudos, trophies, ribbons, all yours Scully. He is steadily pulling her towards him and she finally surrenders and eases onto his lap.

They sign in unison, a relief that neither knew they needed a few months ago but now can’t live without.

She settles against his erection and Mulder wishes he had lost because he wants nothing more than to feel her wet heat pressed to his skin. He runs his hands under her shirt and up her back, pulling her closer to his body. She searches for his mouth and slips her tongue past his lips.

Mulder has to pull back, suddenly overcome with emotion and rests his forehead on her collarbone. “Scully, I love you.” He whispers. “I want you to know that I’m afraid of how great this is and I just figure that at some point my luck will run out and all this will end. I’ve loved you for so long, I can’t not tell you anymore.”

She cups his face and brings his eyes level to hers. “Mulder, I love you too and luck has nothing to do with it.”

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iamvegorott · 7 years

Text

Taken Away Ch 10

Molotov

“You have to be fucking shitting me!” Mark screamed. “This all has to be some sick fucking joke!” Mark kept clawing at the ground. “You got me! You fucking got me!”

Jack just knelt next to Mark, entire body numb, eyes wide and body slumped over. What was he going to do now?

“Why do you want to leave so badly?”

“Who the fuck is there!?” Mark yelled into the forest.

“You heard that?” Jack asked, finally blinking.

“Of course I heard that!” Mark snapped.

“Have you been hearing that voice the whole time!? I thought that it was just me! Why didn’t you say anything!?” Jack snapped back.

“No! This is the first time I’ve heard that creepy ass voice!”

“We need to stop yelling at each other!” Jack put his hands over his face and huffed. “Fucking hell, man.”

“Why don’t you want to stay?”

“I thought I was just hearing things because of how exhausting the past week has been.” Jack admitted.

“Great, now I’m going crazy too.” Mark rolled over to his back. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“We can head back to the town, maybe there’s another portal somewhere, it might just change places at random times.” Jack suggested.

“Maybe if someone wasn’t so determined to have a fucking shot, we’d be home with the others right now!” Mark scoffed harshly.

“You could have gone without me! You didn’t have to wait!” Jack got off of the ground.

“I didn’t want to leave you behind, you dumb fuck!” Mark covered his hands with his face and let out a loud grunt of frustration.

“What happened to Mr. Fucking Positive!? You’ve spent the entire time saying that we were going to get home and that everything was going to be fine! You were always the one that told us to look on the fucking bright side when we thought everything was going to shit!”

“That was before we were fucked!”

“Stop yelling!”

Jack and Mark both gasped loudly as they were yanked out of that area and transported into the middle of the forest.

“The fuck!?” Mark shouted, sitting up.

“We teleported or someone teleported us.” Jack started looking around. “Mark...look up.”

“What could possibly...you have to be shitting me.” Mark saw the portal above them, the portal that they fell through in the first place.

“We’re back at the beginning.” Jack stated.

“Great! Fan-fucking-tastic!” Mark threw himself back down on the ground.

“At least we’re closer to the town now.” Jack said, earning a sigh and a soft ‘yeah’ from Mark. “What’s wrong Callie?” Jack asked the creature when they started freaking out.

“They’re probably still upset about being moved to a-” Mark stopped as they were moved again, finding themselves at their first campsite.

“What the hell is happening!?” Jack went over to Mark and helped him to his feet.

“I don’t know, something’s moving us from place to place.” Before Jack could respond they were teleported once again. They both grimaced when they saw the splattered body of the creature who had attacked them at the hotel that stood in front of them. Flies were now hovering over the body and the stench was strong.

“God, that’s worse than when we saw it land.” Mark groaned, plugging his nose.

“Why are we here?” Jack asked, voice sounding off since his nose was closed with his fingers as well.

“It’s like we’re going through everything all over again.” Mark commented.

“The world might be glitching out.” Jack said right before they were teleported to a new destination, the site of the dead children and mother making Jack shout.

“This was the one thing I didn’t want to see again!” Jack snapped.

“Let’s get out of here!” Mark tried to start running but tripped over a rock after they were teleported to the pond. “I’m getting real sick of this shit!” Mark shouted, getting back up and brushing the dirt off of his pants.

“If this keeps up, we might end up back where the portal was.” Jack said. “The portal might come back as well.”

“Who’s Mr. Fucking Positive now?” Mark teased, sounding a little harsher than intended.

“You don’t have to be an ass.” Jack huffed.

“Can you blame me for being pissy, first the portal goes away and now we’re glitching out like one of our Anti or Dark videos.” Mark turned so he was facing Jack. “I like being in charge of the fake glitching, not randomly having it actually happen in my real life. It’s complete bull-” Mark let out a shout when a vine came out of the water, wrapped itself around his ankle and yank him to the ground. “Fuck!” Mark got out before being dragged into the water.

“Mark!” Jack quickly kicked off his shoes, slipped off his bag and dove into the pond. Callie sat at the edge and stared into the water, waiting for Jack to return.

Jack swam as fast as he could and saw Mark getting further and further away in the murky water. The man let out a silent scream in the water when a large salmon with sharp teeth appeared in front of him. He turned himself over and kicked the fish in the face. Jack kicked the fish again and the salmon snarled its teeth at the man before swimming off. Jack started feeling his empty lungs burn a little but pushed past it as he continued swimming down.

He found Mark floating motionless with the vine still on his ankle. Jack swam to Mark and took the pocket knife out of the man’s pants, going over to the vine and started to saw at it. Jack felt as if he was going to cough with how much pressure was building up in his chest. Finally, the vine was cut off and Jack wrapped his arms around Mark and started swimming up.

Jack gasped loudly when he broke through the water, the air tasting the best it has in a very long time. He panted as he struggled to swim to the edge of the pond, holding MArk with one arm and paddling with the other. Jack tossed Mark onto the land first before pulling himself out of it. Still panting, Jack went over to Mark and used his hands to pump down on the other man’s chest. Callie went on Mark’s stomach and started bouncing to the same rhythm as Jack.

“Come on, man. Don’t do this to me.” Jack said, putting his ear near Mark’s mouth and not hearing anything. “Don’t you die on me you son-of-a-bitch!” Jack cried and went back to pumping. “I’ll kill you if you die!” Jack let out a sound of joy when Mark started coughing, water spouting out of his mouth like a fountain. Jack rolled Mark to his side and patted the man’s back.Callie chirped and rubbed their body against Mark’s neck, a soft groaning sound coming from the man. “Thank God.” Jack grabbed his bag and shoes, slipping them on as a voice spoke.

“Wasn’t that just the dumbest thing you’ve done here?” Someone said harshly.

“Who the fuck…” Jack looked up and saw a face he would have never expected to see. “You? Why are you here? Did you get sucked in too?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘suck in’ per say, given that I created this place when I was a child.” The shy fan from the panel stated, crossing his arms and a smirk on his face.

“You, what?” Jack blinked in confusion.

“I understand every little part of this world and the one thing that I cannot understand is why you just risked your life to save Mark? You were arguing and yelling at each other. I figured if I got rid of one of you, you’d finally stop.” The fan sighed before suddenly becoming very angry. “You act as if you cared for him when you and the others were so excited to get out of here! All of you couldn’t wait to just leave me!”

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“Why save him!? Why care about him!? You have Signe, don’t you!? All of you have someone back at home and you risk your life for him!?”

“He’s my friend! Of course, I’d save him!” Jack snapped.

“Unbelievable!” The fan huffed and turned away.

“What am I missing right now?” Jack asked, getting up and moving closer to the fan. “You said you created this world and by wanting to leave this place, we’re wanting to leave you?”

“Everyone thought I was a freak because I liked to draw these creatures. Dad said I was creative, mom said I was doomed to be forever alone. How mother would be proud to learn that her little boy could control magic. That her little boy made a whole world to their design. This is how I see the world.” The fan held his arms out. “Gray and filled with creatures of my own design.”

“We just want to go home, man.” Jack said softly.

“No one ever wants to stay here! Why does everyone want to leave!?” The man grabbed at his hair. “That woman didn’t want to stay, so I brought her children to be with her and she still didn’t want to stay. So, I gave her a gun and told her that you either die or stay with no complaint. She started screaming at me and calling me names and I put the gun in her hands and made her shoot her own children.” The man started laughing while Jack’s jaw dropped. “That shut her up real good and so she wouldn’t have to be alone, I made her shoot herself in the head and left them in that room, a forever reminder of what is to come if people want to leave.” Jack opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find any words to say. “I test people with the portal and if they try to leave, they end up as one of my creatures. Just like the one you let fall and splatter. He was a very rude man when I told him he couldn’t leave, so he had it coming.” Jack put a hand over his mouth at the memory. That creature was human. They weren’t just human-like, they used to a man just like them. “I decided to let the other three go peacefully since all of you are so nice, but I had to keep you two. You two are my favorite. If I lost you two, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I...I...Mark?” Jack watched as Mark sprinted past him and grabbed the fan by the shoulder and turned him around with a harsh pull. Mark gripped both of the man’s shoulders with his hands and started screaming.

“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you!? You take me away from my family, my girlfriend and the rest of my friend and you act like you’ve done everyone a favor by letting Felix, Wade, and Bob go home without killing him like everyone else here, you sick fuck! Take us back! Take us back right now!” Mark started shaking the fan.

“My name is Vince.” The fan stated calmly. “And your family will be fine if you never came home, they got over the death of your father, didn’t they?”

“Dude.” Was all Jack could say before Mark punched Vince across the face.

“How fucking dare you! My father was a great man! He was strong and brave and the best father I could have ever ask for!” Mark’s eyes started to water up. “How dare you bring his death up! You have no fucking right! I don’t give a shit if you’re a fan or not! You weren’t there! You didn’t see him, you didn’t hold his hand when you got scared or listen to his jokes and laugh till your sides hurt!” Several tears ran down Mark’s face. “You didn’t see him get weaker! You didn’t see his smile fade away as the life went out of him! You didn’t hold your mother as she cried! You didn’t sit in your bed all night long wondering if your father was happier now! Questioning if you would ever be truly happy again!” Mark wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed, swallowing before speaking again. His voice much lower and twice as harsh. “He will always be a thousand times more of a real man than you will ever even hope to be.” Mark stepped away from Vince. “Take us home, right now or I will make you regret ever being conceived.” By this point Jack was next to Mark, his own eyes red and with tears threatening to fall as well.

“Take us back.” Jack stated with Callie on his shoulder and showing their teeth at Vince. Mark and Jack both looked up when they heard a roar.

“The fuck?” Mark stumbled away when a large elephant-like monster stepped out of the forest and stood behind Vince.

“Get them.” Vince said darkly, pointing a finger towards the other two men.

“Fuck!” Mark and Jack both screamed before running.

“I’m going to kick Vince in the dick so hard he’ll be tasting his own balls!” Mark yelled. “What are we going to do!?”

“I don’t-wait! I have an idea, pass me your lighter!” Jack opened his bag and pulled out the wine bottle he had turned into a Molotov cocktail.

“You are not!” Mark said, a wide smile on his face as he tossed his lighter to Jack.

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Jack used his thumb to slowly turn the wheel of the lighter several times. “Please let Reddit be right for once.” Jack said before flicking the lighter and seeing the small flame appear. “Thank you, internet!” The man stopped and faced the monster, Mark stopping next to him. Jack grinned as he used the small flame to light the end of the piece of cloth.

“Get wrecked, bitch.” Jack said before throwing the Molotov at the elephant’s face. Mark and Jack shielded their eyes as a fireball blinded them. The elephant let out a cry and ran away as Callie chirped with victory.

“Fine! You want to go back so badly! Go!” Vince shouted before Mark and Jack felt themselves falling through the ground.

“I’ll make your world into my own and no one will ever get the leave.”

#youtube #youtuber fanfic #youtuber #markiplier #jacksepticeye #pewdiepie #muyskerm #lordminion777

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wendyopaque · 7 years

Text

this is also thehambeverage for anyone wondering why tf agsp is tagging them in something

yo i was tagged by a peep by the name of @cotton-candy-confusion and this is basically one of those facebook thingys where you go and tag someone and they have to answer questions. so im gonna do that. RULES: answer the questions and tag 25 people! LAST: [1] DRINK: i have a nice pokemon glass of brisk ice tea [2] PHONE CALL: m mudca :) [3] TEXT MESSAGE: it was actually to the group chat (kik group chat, if you want that information msg me and ill let u in; its atl related usually) about how my next project is going to be a self-driving barbie jeep [4] SONG YOU LISTENED TO: willingly: citizens of earth by neck deep. unwillingly, however, was the meow mix remix 10 hour version [5] TIME YOU CRIED: despite the fact i wanted to all day long, i actually didnt. so it was a few nights ago because i had a dream that everything that happened today happened and i was so frustrated i started crying HAVE YOU EVER… [6] DATED SOMEONE TWICE: i havent even dated someone once really [7] BEEN CHEATED ON: no [8] KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: the only person ive ever kissed (well, kissed by) was mark hoppus and i dont regret [9] LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: yes [10] BEEN DEPRESSED: yeah, in fact i just woke up from a 7 hour depression nap [11] GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: ive never been drunk but one time i made really good grilled cheese but then it wasnt so good because i gave myself food poisoning and threw up for three days LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: [12] green [13] more green [14] did i mention green IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… [15] MADE NEW FRIENDS: YES AND I LOVE THEM ALL [16] FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: no but this reminds me of the line in romeo and juliet where romeo is just like im out and either benvolio or mercutiois just like out- oF LOvE???? and romeo is like hell no wft [17] LAUGHED SO HARD YOU CRIED: lots of times [18] FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: i mean no but would i care really probably yes because i care about my reputation but also maybe not [19] MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: i think everyone changes me because i want to absorb everyones good qualities and become The Best [20] FOUND OUT WHO YOUR TRUE FRIENDS ARE: everyones my true friend i love people [21] KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: no [22] HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: all of them except hunter, but he just wants to be my friend on fb so i can send him 8 ball pool gifts [23] DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: my dogs birdie, jared, and sugar and my dads dog miss noodles 8^) [24] DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: my real name is actually p good (its marissa) because ican get away with you guys calling me meech because it starts with an m [25] WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: invited my pals to my humble abode and we tried to watch a horror movie but like a really crappy one but it was so bad no one was interested [26] WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: i woke up at 5:30 am to meet bright and early with my rov crew but i woke up from my depression sleepytime junction at 11 [27] WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT: trying to unlock the bathroom door with a pair of scissors [28] NAME SOMETHING YOU CANNOT WAIT FOR: starting the self driving barbie jeep!!!! [29] WHEN IS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOTHER: at like 5 when she picked me up from the competition [30] WHAT IS ONE THING YOU WISH YOU COULD CHANGE ABOUT YOUR LIFE: im actually really happy where i am now ü (thats a creepy smiley face) [31] WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: i have an episode of malcolm in the middle playing in the background rn [32] HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: wtf [33] SOMETHING THAT GETS ON YOUR NERVES: when my step father parks his truck too close to the gate so i have to move the entire gate in order to take the dumb trash bins out [34] MOST VISITED SITE: more than likely cool math 4 kids [35] ELEMENTARY: ew i was really into ghost hunters and never brushed my hair and was just embarrassing in general [36] HIGH SCHOOL: so far, i really like it [37] COLLEGE: not even sure yet but hopefully my SATs turn up good later on down the road and some school wants me [38] HAIR COLOR: green but theres this blue strip in it and its weird [39] LONG OR SHORT HAIR: short [40] DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: 👀 [41] WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: im really funny and i have nice legs [42] PIERCINGS: i have one ear pierced and contrary to popular belief it is not the detroit red wings logo [43] BLOOD TYPE: im not sure which is really bad [44] NICKNAME: mostly meech but irl ppl call me misha/misho and rissa [45] RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single [46] ZODIAC SIGN: aquarius [47] PRONOUNS: she/her [48] FAV TV SHOW: hmm probably bobs burgers [49] TATTOOS: none [50] RIGHT OR LEFT HANDED: right FIRST… [51] SURGERY: never had one! [52] PIERCING: m ears [53] BEST FRIEND: i think her name was hannah or some shit idk it was first grade [54] SPORT: im not a sports kid im a competitive robot kid [55] VACATION: rogers city 2002!! [56] PAIR OF TRAINERS: what are trainers RIGHT NOW… [57] EATING: nothing [58] DRINKING: only my favorite beverage, orange juice [59] IM ABOUT TO: go to costco and mooch off of their free samples [60] LISTENING TO: the blink-182 cover of dead mans curve [61] WAITING FOR: seamus to follow me back on twitter (hes being a little bitch rn) [62] WANT: seamus to follow me back on twitter (fuck u seamus) [63] GET MARRIED: sure [64] CAREER: whatever i can get tbh. ideally something in construction/engineering WHICH IS BETTER… [65] HUGS OR KISSES: smorch [66] LIPS OR EYES: lips [67] SHORTER OR TALLER: ??i want to be taller?? [68] OLDER OR YOUNGER: older ?? (are these supposed to be abt like someone romantically or??? idk??) [69] ROMANTIC OR SPONTANEOUS: spontaneous [70] NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: really i dont mind [71] SENSITIVE OR LOUD: i guess sensitive ? [72] HOOKUP OR RELATIONSHIP: relationship !! i love commitment [73] TROUBLEMAKER OR SENTIENT: GIVE ME A SENTIENT SUPER POWER BOYF / GIRLF HAVE YOU EVER… [74] KISSES A STRANGER? hoppus <3 [75] DRABK HARD LIQOUR? nope [76] LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES? but always found them in the end [77] TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: nope [78] SEX ON FIRST DATE? with what dats [79] BROKEN SOMEONES HEART? hopefully not [80] HAD YOUR OWN HEART BROKEN? nope [81] BEEN ARRESTED? no but i thought the lady at speedway was going to call the cops on me because she seemed really mad i was getting a slurpee and it made me anxious [82] CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED? of course [83] FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: hyperventilates 👀👀👀 DO YOU BELIEVE IN… [84] YOURSELF? always have always will [85] MIRACLES? yes!! [86] LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? no [87] SANTA CLAUS? no [88] KISS ON FIRST DATE? smorch [89] ANGELS? yes OTHER… [90] CURRENT BEST FRIENDS NAME: i have like 8 million bffjills i cant name them all [91] EYE COLOR: green [92] FAVORITE MOVIE: THE SHINING ☝️☝️☝️

i dont know/have 25 mutuals so heres all the people who immediately come to mind:

@carbonatedbeveragecurtis @dinotyler @a-percious-fandom-cinnamon-roll @amerrickancandy @notanordinarybandgeek @gloogle @flannelbarakat @jack-bracket

#oh goody nothing is tagging

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thetickingmonolith · 4 years

Text

Change Of Heart Part 2: It’s Getting Crowded In Here

I lay back into my chair, my hand rubbing the tired from my eyes “You son of a bitch” Azel looked over at me from the fireplace and raised an eyebrow “What now?” I sat up in my chair a little and looking him square in the eye “You’ve got to stop walking about in my head while I’m sleeping, I kept waking up whenever I saw you out of shock”. He laughed at that “Someone getting moody over their feelings” I yawned a little and stretched my arms and legs. “Not at all, I think I’m starting to work out what you are.”

I sat up in my chair and crossed my legs, trying to remain as composed as I could in my pyjamas. “You aren’t the actualisation of my feelings toward you specifically, but rather you are the idea of what I had wanted with you. You were the first person I was willing to jump into the lion’s den with after the hell that was my last relationship. Given the realisation of finally having my answer and the necessary reasons to be able to finally let go and move on. You are the idea of what it is that I wanted, why this want materialises as you specifically I don’t quite fully understand but it does seem to make some sense.” He shifted in his chair a little, with a small smile on his lips “You’re making some serious progress anyway”.

I yawned with an audible sigh and my eyes watered a little with the strain. I ran my hands over my eyes and smiled to myself a little. I looked back over the coffee table and my smile vanished in an instant. “Son of a whore what in the actual fuck”. She sat in Magnus’s chair, those piercing brown eyes of hers, so rich in colour and in depth. “What in the fuck is Gabi doing here now?” “I don’t know Paddy, what am I doing here? What is the meaning of life?” Her weird and adorable mix of sarcasm and existentialist humour. I stood from my chair and threw my hands over my head “Oh god no not you as well”. “Jeez Paddy I thought you’d be happy to see me” I could feel something tying the two of them together, and again toward the kitchen and upstairs. “No there are not more of you” he leaned forward and took a drink “What I thought you liked company in here”.

I looked back over my shoulder and in walked the grey clad figure, with eyes of unimaginable apathy and a depth so abyssal it was all consuming to stare into them for too long. There was a creak of floor boards as she walked across the room and leaned up against Magnus’s chair. “Good morning honey” My jaw very nearly hit the floor, I was losing my damn mind. “What the fuck is going on here, is this some sort of subconscious intervention?” Grey took a sip of her coffee, the distinctive purple cup of Accents near Georges Street Arcade “Not at all, judging by the state of things you’re simply having some kind of psychological reconstruction and the by-product of this reforming of character has resulted in a change of the rule of how this little world is governed. We are likely here as you have state as some kind of puzzle”. I collapsed back into my chair and threw my legs out over the arm “Can’t I have some place where I can get away from you people and your drama, for fuck sake even the inside of my head isn’t safe”.

There was the creak of the stairs as someone walked down them, the sound of her boots against the boards of the stairs “No I swear to fuck She’s here as well she dies”. Bella walked down the stairs with one headphone in her ear, mouthing the words of Just Dance or Shotgun Wedding by Panic! At The Disco, her eyes royal purple, she blinked and they turned to her natural steely blue colour and back again. A rainbow rose wrapped around her left arm, with its thorns and stem digging themselves into her arm, it looked painful, yet she didn’t so much as acknowledge it, the flower in her palm, it looked like a tattoo yet was so much more than that. “No you out get the fuck out of here” She stopped in the doorway looking concerned “Paddy what’s wrong?” I shot out of my chair and felt a fire run through me. “Get the fuck out of my house right now”.

She stopped in place, they all stopped and stared at me with empty eyes. “I am tired of this no this crosses a line” There was a flicker in each of them, they all seemed to be there and yet were not, like witnessing a duality of being. I blinked being unable to properly focus on the anomaly, suddenly they all disappeared and a new set of figures replaced them. Atlas stood towering in the doorway now, a vibrant golden sunflower wrapping itself around the same arm, his sleeve rolled up slowing more of the flower. I backed away, falling back into my chair.

Mark sat in Jack’s chair, his eyes that sapphire blue colour with each seeming like a gemstone of unimaginable levels of complexity, with its formation down to its very molecules seemingly visible yet still obscured. He sat with his legs crossed in that odd fashion he always had them crossed in, with those bright blue shoes that matched his eyes and went so perfectly with his outfit. Those black skinny jeans that he seemed to have eight pairs of, a black shirt and blue blazer to match. He wore that outfit to the last date we went on before he had to go back to England. The same smile on his face.

Lyte sat in Magnus’s seat. Her long black hair contrasting and being brought out by her long porcelain white coat. A slim black tie and white shirt against her chest fitting with her skirt and knee high boots. The raised eyebrow, the smile of perfect white teeth, so white it seemed unnatural. With one of those weird unnatural flowers that she loved set in her hair, it was the same porcelain white colour as her outfit. She wore it to work a few times, it always stuck I my head as to how well it really did suit her with her jet black hair. She looked like the female incarnation of Unity.

Shou stood where Grey had been standing. His long brown hair framing his face so perfectly, it had fallen into one of his eyes and he brushed it back of his ear in that shy manner he always did so not to try attract attention. He was wearing my hoodie, like the one that Jack would wear, my favourite hoodie, it was hanging open with that t-shirt he wore to bed on under it and those same skinny jeans that might have been black at one point but had faded so much they were more of a mildly dark grey. They stretched in an odd fashion, the fabrics more elastic than the denim should have been. His eyes a shade of emerald green you couldn’t fathom existed naturally, with tiny flecks of other colours like stars in the sky of an emerald dream.

I got to my feet and threw the chair out behind me “I’m so fucking sick of this shit, all of you out, go on shoo, no more feels I’m done with all of you”. Atlas walked further into the room “Are you really?” “I am right about to rip that flower from your arm and strangle you with it” Mark shift in his seat a little bit, trying to get a better view of the towering, yellow eyed giant. “He’s been like this for a while now” Lyte stood from her seat and offered it to Shou. He nodded in thanks and sat in front of the fire, sitting back, attempting to avoid the conflict.

I began to pace back and forth across the room, Lyte went back toward the kitchen “Atleast that will stop him from going up and down out of that seat like a jack rabbit” I stopped mid step and shot her a look and she disappeared into the kitchen again. “Could you all just not?” Mark leaned forward in his seat and poured himself a glass of whisky “I mean in theory but we are good here for the minute”. Atlas leaned up against Magnus’s chair and smiled over at me “I mean to be quite fair things could be a lot worse”. “I get stuck with some of the most annoy people I’ve ever had any kind of moderately intimate relationship with…few things could be worse”. Azel was sitting in Jack’s chair again, his hair that tie-dye rainbow again, Grey walked back in from the Kitchen with two mugs in hand. She handed one to Shou and smiled at him, Atlas began to flicker and Bella appeared leaning against Shou’s chair. The four of them all turned to look at me.

Grey took a sip of her mocha, Shou looked around the corner of the chair at me, Bella played with the petals in the palm of her hand and Azel took a sip of the whisky and smiled at me from behind it. I couldn’t take it “Fuck all of you”. Then in unison almost as though scripted “You already have”. I was very shocked and didn’t know if I was about to laugh or brutally murder each and every one of them. I sighed and straightened myself out, pulling at the edge of my pyjama bottoms “So what you’re all some kind of collection of feelings or something? A representation of this next step?” Bella walked over and sat in my chair “I like the fire it is my favourite colour” Shou looked over at her “Your favourite colour is purple not green”. I launched myself forward “Okay no not doing that stop no”. Grey took another sip of her drink “We are all representations of what it is you are struggling with. The fireplace is what burns at the centre of your soul, what idea it is that consumes and direct your actions” “If you are all here and it is so general why is it silver?” “It isn’t silver it is grey” “Great that doesn’t change anything” “It does, because you aren’t fixated on any one thing at the minute, you’re lost and confused, caught between a number of possible answers and reasons, lost in shades of grey” she snapped her fingers and the fire instantly burst forward into a raging inferno for a moment.

It died down and became a flowing rainbow of colours. “It is not even eight in the fucking morning could we not?” Shou shifted in his chair “It looks like oil in water but so much more alive.” I sighed and smiled, I would have married that man if I had been given the chance. “It is first thing in the morning and I’ve already had my mind fucked by my subconscious and its representations of some of my closest friends…Not a day without excitement in my life.”

Bella stretched in my chair and peered into the spectrum of colours in the palm of her hand. “What is your flower? A black rose?” I shot her a look. I knew it wasn’t actually her but some version of her being here made my stomach sink for a moment and then I smiled. “I simply can’t get you out of this damn place can I?” I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

I hung my head and sighed. My clothes changed, a black shirt with a dark grey tie, silver roses decorating it, a black and grey waistcoat to match and black blazer, black skinny jeans of the same shade and my leather converse. I held out my left hand and felt my skin burn, like the initial shock of a bullet breaking your skin but lasting for a few seconds. I found my black orchids twisting themselves in unnatural contortions around my forearm and palm. I felt a feeling wash over me and a serenity settle onto my mind, an unfathomably deep abyss of thoughts staring back at me.

They all stopped and stared at me, petals falling away here and there, falling away like flakes of skin and disappearing into the air, like water evaporating. “But in the book its” “In the book many things are not as they seem, the ending appears to be one thing but is in fact another, the reality in which we perceive is merely a partial illusion, we perceive and focus on that which confirms out previously held beliefs and understandings. The ability to exist outside of this spectrum of bias and misinformation is often what exiles many of us from everyone else. It is the power that people fear the most, it is the power to become something different and separate ourselves from others. The Orchid is a flower of exotic nature and beauty. The exotic nature is the reflection on our nature as that which is different from all that is the self, for there is only self and other and in that we find the beauty of both self and other. The nature of who we are in each and every way, should we choose to expose this and harness the power of the soul that each of us have we discover that it is our exotic nature that grants us all that we require to take the lives to the point of which we would achieve all that we were determined to do. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. We become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death…we fashion ourselves into ideas and we may live forever. The Black Orchid is a symbol of power and absolute authority, with its imposing colour and the luxuriously exotic nature of the orchid we find embodiment of what it is that we are”. I stepped forward and the fire went a transparent black colour, the whole world seemed to tilt on its axis by a fraction of an inch and they all seemed to have a mix of pride, admiration and fear.

“We find our image, an image of someone entirely in control of their reality and their nature in every conceivable aspect, yet though it might appear on the surface to be chaotic and out of control upon closer inspection we discover the ultimate authority and masters of the most formidable of powers…We discover the actualisation of one’s self in the single most majestic, beautiful and horrific fashion.” I felt the flowers tighten around my forearm and their roots constrict further around my arm. I walked forward and gestured toward Her in my chair, she stood stepped to its side. I sat into my chair and it all changed, the left side of it became contorted with the same orchids and the right hand side remaining the same “We need more chairs in here”. I lifted my corrupted hand and snapped my fingers, the fire rushed to life and flooded the room with a beautiful yet terrible light. There was a flash and my eyes were left blinded for a moment. When my vision returned to me the room had been rearranged.

The coffee table had been replaced with a slightly taller, longer version of itself, the wood seemed to be the exact same, with the same coffee stains and rings from where mugs had been put down on it. It was flanked by four other chairs, each very distinctive in their own ways.

Azel sat directly across from me, where Jack had been sitting. His chair similar to how it had looked before, high backed, rich fabrics with intricately shifting symbols, the left arm covered in paint and ink stains, the right arm an undecipherable mess of symbols of every conceivable nature. In the back of the chair, above His head there was a line running down the middle of chair, the left side with wood a white colour the right side a black colour, and where the two of them met there was a glass orb, a swirling vortex of black and white liquid, like the night sky flowing through the currents of a maelstrom, each liquid fading in and out of dominance, like fading between each other, turning grey and then separating out again.

Bella sat next to Him, her chair a contortion of natural woods, nothing man made about it, it looked like it was grown. All across it flowers and buds of all descriptions bloomed across its bark. A Throne of Flowers, towering over her head, a wineglass of that bright blue cocktail balanced on the left arm of the chair, she was running her index finger across the rim. Her arm perfectly matching the chair in a beauty that made my heart pulse with new life and all anger I had was away. A number of roots seemed to fix it to the floor, warping the floorboards beneath it, it was a marvel and a horror in so many perfectly right and wrong ways.

Just beside, facing the fire head on and at the centre of us all Grey sat. A Clockwork Throne, so intricate with each piece moving constantly, driven from somewhere deep inside, no lets to it just a solid body of gears and interlacing components. A sheer black metal, tiny flints in it like sparks in marble. The arms, back and seat made of a sleek and polished sheet of the metal, bent and moulded into shape. Her signature shallow glass held loosely in her right hand, a cigarette balanced between her index and forefinger in her left. It looked uncomfortable yet she sat in her usual stance of legs crossed, leaning on one elbow and with that tiny relaxed smile on her face.

Then there was Shou, he sat curled up in my hoodie, his chair a simple thing. High backed like the others but padded and soft looking. A worn fabric a deep black colour, specks of dust standing out ever so slightly. The armrests stained with coffee, tea and hot chocolate, a black satin cushion at his back, his legs dangling out over the side toward me, his mug steaming, held in both hands. The comfortable smile on his face, the hood hanging over his eyes as he leaned forward to take a sip. The legs of the chair made of a pitch black wood, little intricate patterns burned into them giving off a faint emerald shimmer. The soft fabrics seemed thin yet inviting and comfortable, the padding not too thick and giving more than enough space.

I sat back in my chair. My head resting against the back for a moment, lightly pressing against the fabric, no spring but a padded with feathers. One elbow rested on the left armrest, my glass in my hand, filled with a bright blue cocktail. The hard feeling of the wood against my elbow, a deep brown colour, like mahogany or something similar, it looked like the same wood as Her chair but varnished and refined. The fabrics a black colour so deep it was abyssal, no light escaped it, yet on closer inspection you could see each of the tiny strands interlacing with one and other. The left armrest still had the roots, stems and petals constricting it, they had wrapped themselves around the legs on the left hand side of the chair and on the wood of the headrest as well. Tiny clockwork patterns appeared on the right side, carved into the wood yet still turning in some odd optical illusion, or perhaps they were turning.

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buttchuggthis40wme · 6 years

Text

12 Steps from Death

David stepped into the small empty conference room and flicked a switch. The fluorescent bulbs sputtered to life one by one with a gentle hum, like old men being roused from a nap. The shadows lingered for a moment though, and for the briefest instant David was gripped by a cold, sickening terror. He shook his head and suddenly the darkness had passed, warmth returned to his frightened husk. He collected himself for a moment, assuring himself that it was probably nothing, and that it was time to get back to the task at hand. David stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, a familiar smile taking shape as he began the weekly routine, the fear had now completely faded. He wheeled a plain-looking folding table into the corner of the room, frowning at the coffee stains that speckled its beige cloth. He lined up the towers of paper cups next to the two large black beverage dispensers, marked WATER and COFFEE. David surveyed the modest spread, setting a box of Costco brand cookies right next to the packets of sugar. David poured himself a cup of joe, made it the same way he always had, with two sugar packets and healthy dollop of cream. The clock ticked softly overhead. The silence broke as David brought in the brown metal folding chairs. The chairs clanged harshly under David’s armpits, revealing their age with every rusted creak. Their light brown metallic shine matched the color of his coffee. He brought twenty chairs, but knew all too well that no more than four of them would be filled tonight. He arranged them into a wide circle, all equidistant, all perfectly angled inward. David found pleasure in these little perfections. He briefly marveled at his work before adding the final touch, a laminated teal poster taped just beneath the wall clock. The poster was simple, just a numbered list of rules. At the top of the poster it’s title read, THE 12 STEPS: in bold, impact font. A second poster hung above the concession table, directly across from the 12 steps, as if they occupied two ends of a single spectrum. The second poster showed a young, military aged black man dressed in fatigues, his head tilted away from the viewer, saluting into the distance. In the background, a pair of jets fly through a soft pink sunset. The image is bound by a black border, in the style of a motivational poster. its tagline reads SEMPER FI: Respect the Corps, Respect yourself. David didn’t even see that poster anymore, it had been here since he got assigned to the room, and probably long before that. It and a million other posters like it decorated nearly every room of the Marine Base. By now all of them had combined into a single image in David’s head, and were as inconspicuous as the patterns that formed in the rough, cream-colored stucco walls. David checked the clock, then his watch. He sipped on his saccharine coffee and stretched his legs, the men would be here soon. David checked his watch again, 6:54. The sound of sneakers on linoleum squeaked toward the conference room, and David’s head perked up just in time to catch the first guest as he shuffled through the door. “Evenin’ Marcus” He said casually, standing up to greet him. “Aw Siddown David,” Marcus said, swiping a cookie with one hand and waving David off with the other, grinning as he did. Marcus was a short man, hunched over from years of a sedentary lifestyle. He had a short, well-trimmed beard that shone white against his dark skin. “How’d Lexi do on that Spanish test?” Marcus asked, not even looking up as he poured himself a cup of black coffee. “She says she hasn’t gotten the grade back yet, but she thinks she did pretty good.” David often forgot just how receptive Marcus was. David never liked sharing personal information with clients, but Marcus was always genuinely interested in what was happening in his life. David presumed it was because he didn’t have much else going on. Marcus waddled over next to David and plopped down next to him with a thud, almost spilling his coffee. The reflection of his glasses made his eyes hard to track. “I know I tell ya this all the time David, but you’re real lucky that Lexi takes to school as good as she does.” Marcus took an enormous bite out of his cookie, a few crumbs trickled down onto his green striped button up. He brushed them off then adjusted his seat. “I must’ve driven my poor momma crazy with all the bad grades I brought home, the things that I made that woman put up with.” He closed his mouth to finish chewing his food, chuckling a couple times under his breath, perhaps reliving some old memory. David opened his mouth to ask about Marcus’s week, but before he could utter a single word he was interrupted by cacophonous laughter. A pair of twenty-something-year-old men burst into the conference room, one voice was loud and commanding, the other voice was quieter but his laugh more than made up for it. Both were indifferent to David and Marcus’s conversation. “You think I’m fuckin’ with ya? I swear to god bro I walked up to this girl doin’ some squats in the gym yesterday, she’s lookin’ fine as hell. Way I figure, she’s prolly hitched to some jarhead who’s out in bumfuck nowhere for the next six months. So I get to thinkin’, maybe she’s feeling a little lonely? maybe she might some company…” The other man pours himself some water, from the look on his face David can tell that he’s invested in the story. “I’m about to hit on her, and guess fucking what dude?” “What?” “I was so busy lookin at her ass, I didn’t even see this broad was squatting more than I am!” Both men started whooping with laughter, the one with the water laughs so hard that he spills a little on the carpet. The other man caught his breath and continued. “So now I’m fuckin stunned, right? How’s some high school sweetheart out here crushin’ my PR’s and still lookin’ like she’s ready for the homecoming dance? So, I check her name tag, and later I looked ‘er up in the database. Turns out the bitch is a friggin Scout. Sniper. Bro. First in her goddamn class! I’m just a fuckin marine thinkin’ I’m gonna get some tail, and I almost got it in with the deadliest woman in the room! who knew!” The two laughed again but less hard, then finally turn to acknowledge David and Marcus. “Howdy boys” The loud one says, sitting down in the seat closest to the door, about as far away from David and Marcus as possible. “Hey guys” says the water boy, who sits down next to the loud one. “Aaron, Andre, glad y’all could make it” David said warmly, as though he wasn’t made uncomfortable by Aaron’s loud and misogynistic banter. Marcus gave them a small wave. Both Aaron and Andre were dressed in their fatigues, even down to the boots. The only reason they were even in here was to keep from getting court-martialed. David pursed his lips and drummed his hands lightly on his thighs. “Whelp, we got a couple minutes till session starts, but seeing as this is about as big as our crowd usually gets I think we can just move right alo-” “Excuse me?” David looked up at the young man standing in the doorway. His hair was short, but it’s not high and tight like an active duty jarhead. From the look of him he probably just got back from a tour. Maybe he was just on some R&R. “This is the AA meeting, right? Am I in the right place?” “Oh yes of course!” David says. It’s been over two months since David’s seen a new face shown up to one of these meetings, and suddenly he didn’t feel so silly about all those empty, perfectly-spaced chairs anymore. “Please, come take a seat with us, we have cookies and coffee if you’d like, we were just about to recite the Serenity Prayer.” “Welcome to the fuckin’ cult” Aaron mutters to the new guy as he sits down. “Ahem,” David says, quieting the room. “Okay, repeat after me” David bowed his head and recited the prayer: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.” * The men repeated David’s words, though it felt slightly awkward. The Serenity Prayer didn’t sound very good as a call-and-response. “Okay” David said, turning to the new guy. “Since you’re new here, would you mind introducing yourself and maybe telling us why you’re here?” “Uh, okay, my name is Royce, I’m from Topeka Kansas and-” “And you’re an Alcoholic” David interrupted. “You have to say that you’re an alcoholic if you’re here” “Oh” Royce says, annoyed because he was just about to say that. “And I guess I’m an alcoholic.” “Hi Royce” The men all say, unaware of how weird it is that they have to recognize the new guy by his alcoholism before his humanity. Royce continues, “Anyway, I’ve been stateside for over a year now, and I’ve downed a fifth of Jack almost every day since.” Royce scratched his neck in discomfort. “My wife filed for a divorce two weeks ago, and I didn’t know where else to turn. I heard the base held AA meetings and that’s how I wound up here.” Royce chuckles uncomfortably and doesn’t say anything else. The lights hummed loudly for a moment and began flicker. In those seconds of darkness David felt a chill rising in his lower back Marcus was the first to break the silence. “Mind if I ask where you served Royce?” “Korengal Valley,” Royce responded, “two tours.” “Holy shit,” Aaron whispered to Andre. “This dude’s the real deal.” David thought about interrupting, some people didn’t like to talk about fighting, especially on day one. But Royce seemed open enough. David knew enough about the Korengal Valley to know that Aaron was right, it was the real deal. The Korengal Valley was a remote wilderness in northeast Afghanistan, defined by snowy mountains and thick pine forest. The few outposts that the Marines had there were small and remote, making air support and troop reinforcements a rare luxury. It was a place for survivalists. The Afghan fighters who occupied the region were some of the toughest in the country, and they knew the terrain far better than any American. Nobody could go to a place like that and come out clean on the other side. “To tell you the truth, I almost miss the Valley,” Royce said. “Every day I was out there I felt like I had a purpose. One day we would be raiding a weapons depot, another day we’d be negotiating with the local tribes. There were a lot of days where we just did nothing, but we always had a goal.” Royce looked down at his hands. “Out there you know what’s important. All that matters is protecting your buddies, and keeping the bad guys away, but over here? I can’t make heads or fucking tails of anything.” He bit his lip and took a deep breath. “I came home and learned that everyone thinks the war is bullshit. They think that the war I lost myself and my friends fighting for was a mistake. They either let me cut in line at the airport or they call me a baby killer, but nobody actually wants to deal with me, nobody cares what I think.” David thought about saying something, but was stunned by how open Royce was about his feelings. It took Marcus over a year to start talking about his experiences in Vietnam. Aaron and Andre still hadn’t talked at all about what they saw in Iraq. It was a strange position to be in as a social worker. Normally the talks here were about day-to-day struggles with sobriety, and it was rare to see someone cut down to the root of the problem on day one. Marcus looked up, his glasses reflected the ceiling lights so that his eyes became two perfect glowing orbs. His voice was cold but reverent. “I take it you met Death a few times out there didn’tcha Royce? David raised a finger, about to tell Marcus off for asking such an inappropriate question, but Royce responded before he could get a word out. The lights dimmed slightly as he spoke. “In the Korengal, everyone meets Death. It’s hard to explain.” “What did Death look like to you?” Marcus said, leaning over his chair, taking the final bite from his cookie. “It varied. Sometimes when we felt strong, Death was like a pack of wolves. They followed us on raids, howling like mad when we shot our rifles. We felt like reapers when we got into firefights. Death made us fearless, and we would watch them tear our enemies’ limb from limb. I remember feeling unstoppable when Death was on our side. I think our boys stopped praying to God while we were out there, because Death was the only one who brought results.” “Sorry Royce,” Marcus interrupted. “You okay David?” he asked turning his head, his eyes still hidden behind those reflective glasses. David was utterly confused. Normally he was the one in control of these meetings but now he was out of his depth. Was this some kind of weird metaphor? Was Royce blackout drunk? “Sorry,” David said, “Please continue.” “But yeah, Death could be anything at any time.” Royce resumed. “When we shelled Taliban outposts, Death was a huge black giant. It smashed trees and stomped buildings, screaming and vomiting fire as it went. We would go down after the bombings to inspect the damage and find all kinds of horrible things, and it gave us comfort to know that it was Death who did it, and not us.” Royce stared at his shoes. “I’m sorry I feel like I’m hogging the conversation, does anyone else wanna talk?” The room was silent. “What about when Death came for your buddies?” Andre asked. “We formed a weird relationship with Death out there.” Royce answered, frowning as he looked downward. The look in his eyes fell somewhere between shame and frustration, but it was hard to read. “Some days it would turn on us. I watched my best friend get taken right in front of me. Death was a giant black screaming banshee, with long talons made of lead. It tore his throat open not six feet away from me. And my buddy just slumped down under a tree. We took his dog tags and that was it. I barely even remember his name. Death constantly reminded us of the nature of our relationship, and we were wise to stay in our lane. I brought Death six more souls that day, and in return I was safe.” Marcus squinted at Royce in confusion, but with his eyes hidden away only his voice gave away his puzzlement. “You weren’t ever scared of Death?” Royce paused for a moment before speaking. “Not for a while, no. But there was one day when all of that changed. For a long time the enemy never knew the exact location of our base. They would shoot mortars off in our general vicinity, and we’d hear the mountains shake as they missed their targets entirely. One day I was out with a couple squads on patrol, and our radio starts goin’ nuts, they’re saying our base got hit. I get back as soon as I can, and its absolute chaos. They’ve already got body bags lined up, two of our barracks look like the surface of the moon. And Death is everywhere, a flock of black vultures picking at bodies and squawkin’ like hell. After that day Death didn’t ride with us no more.” David watched Royce’s face as he told his story, noting that he described this phantom of death with the same emotional clarity as his earlier commentary. His mind buzzed with questions but chose to keep his mouth shut instead. “What the fuck man.” Aaron said, squinting at Royce. “So Death was like a demon or something?” David looked over to Aaron, feeling some sort of relief that he wasn’t the only one in the room confused by Royce’s angel of death. “I dunno” Royce said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “Death doesn’t look like that at all, man.” Aaron said, “I saw it too.” Marcus butted in, “Death looks like a lot of things to a lot of people.” Now Andre spoke, “Nah man, Aaron and I saw the same thing, Marcus. Ya don’t forget a thing like that.” Aaron spoke up again, his deafening voice obscuring all others. “’Dre and I were both in the first battle of Fallujah, AKA Operation Vigilant Resolve AKA a shit-show to end all shit-shows.” He paused for dramatic effect, it was this professional storyteller act that was Aaron’s least attractive feature from David’s point of view. “We were in that whole mess from day one. At the time, it was glorious. Just imagine being in a convoy of 2000-plus jarheads, rollin’ in on Humvees at night, fighter jets rippin’ by so loud that you worry the sky itself might rip apart. We made the helicopter scene from Apocalypse Now look like kids playing in a sandbox. We were apex predators, tippy top of the food chain, and boy was there prey to be had.” David was perplexed. If Aaron was so proud of his combat in Fallujah why hadn’t he talked about these events sooner? Despite his tough guy attitude Aaron had always shied away from talking about the war. Regardless of how strange the conversation sounded, David was getting some real insight into Aaron’s history, and was intrigued to hear more. “I was up in the turret, and ‘Dre was our driver. We spent most of the night circling the city while our jets rained hell. Now keep in mind, this was all because some hajis blew up four Americans a few weeks earlier, made a big fucking parade out of em. They dragged the bodies through the streets, and hung em up over some big bridge, then sent the footage to the news so everybody could see. It was disgraceful, the biggest fuck you to our country since 9/11. So needless to say we were all pretty pissed. They could’ve drowned the city in blood that day and I wouldn’t have batted an eye.” Aaron paused after he said that, as if he had misspoken. But a second or two passed and he resumed the story. “After that first night, we went all in. I’m talking house-to-house sweeps, shootouts ‘round every corner. And the whole time, I notice this weird little speck hovering above the center of town, no matter where we are you can always see it, especially me, since I’m up in the turret this whole time. Most of the time we’re too busy looking for snipers and trying not to run over IED’s to notice, but throughout the day I see this speck getting bigger and bigger. It was the kind of thing that on a normal day would be a big fuckin’ deal if it showed up in New York City, but under the circumstances at the time I figured there were bigger fish to fry.” Aaron leaned back, letting the weight of his story sink in, looking around the room to gauge the interest level of the audience. To David he looked a lot more like a kid telling a ghost story than a grown man reliving the horror of his past. Yet just as David thought this, Aaron leaned in again, his eyes fell quietly onto a piece of dirt at the center of the circle. “That all changed when we got to the center of town though. We had been told to hold back while a couple tanks cleared a building of snipers. I heard the shot and the whole building came down, you could hear the foundation screaming as it went down. And then we were given a green-light to proceed. Just beyond where the building was, as the smoke cleared, we could see the speck. It was a lot bigger now, and we could see it in much greater detail. That’s when I realized what I was looking at. The object was a huge ball, but it was pulsating, sorta like a heartbeat. I could see hundreds of arms and legs sticking out of it, and the whole thing was jet black. It was dripping tar and smelled like shit.” Aaron’s eyes went around the room again. “From then on, I noticed that with every person that died in that city, every child, every woman, every haji, and every jarhead, it got bigger. We moved around the city like cats hunting mice, chasin’ and fightin’ ‘til we cornered them, then finished ‘em off. But Death was always looming above us, slick with oil and dripping all over us until we couldn’t bear to look at ourselves. Death left a stink on us that we couldn’t wash clean. Fallujah counted as a victory in the history books, but it wasn’t one we wanted to write home about. 800 dead, most of them civilians.” Aaron sat there twiddling his thumbs, a uniquely introspective look soured his face, and the room went quiet again. David had never seen anything like it from a guy like Aaron, and half expected him to jump up and yell ‘gotcha bitch!’ but that moment never came. David searched within himself for something to say, but found himself speechless. What could he possibly say that would resonate with these warriors? He had always tried to see the best in his clients, but it had become far too easy to see people like Aaron as broken drunks who didn’t even have their own best interest at heart. For the first time David saw through to the heart of what these men were saying, that they saw something they couldn’t explain, and were forever hurt because of it. He glanced up at the clock, 7:58. Time was up. David ended the session abruptly and watched the men get up and leave. There was a silent frustration as they left, a certain unfinished business to the whole affair. Marcus seemed especially hurt, perhaps he had his own story to tell. David gathered up the chairs and set them back into the storage closet. He wheeled the table out of the room, putting away the cups and sugar and cream, then dumped the water and coffee into a bathroom sink. Last of all he took down the 12 Steps Poster, disappointed that none of his knowledge of the Big Book** had been relevant for tonight’s meeting. He stepped into his silver Volvo and turned the key. A black cat sat in the grass across from his car illuminated in his headlight beams, licking its paw for a moment before running into the darkness. A primordial fear moved up his spine, and David felt the presence of something unearthly in his vicinity. He pushed these feelings aside and drove into the night.

*: The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr is commonly read at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings **: The Big Book, By Bill Wilson is a general guideline for the Alcoholics Anonymous Dogma

#short story #quick shoutout to anyone who actually reads this whole thing #you da real mvp #myart #nanowrimo #nanowrimo2017 #entry 1

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