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morphoportiswrites · 5 years

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Riots. - Chapter Three: Slipping Away

Summary: You and your motorcycle are trying your best to outrun death. Is your metal horse fast enough?

Pairing: Bane (TDKR) x Reader

Word Count: 1501

Warnings: Some swearing, mention of antisemitism (no slurs but it’s implied)

Author’s Note: So, that took me a long time. lol I’m dragging the story on like the chewiest chewing gum, hahaha! Again: English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes in grammar/spelling/tenses etc. (Also that summary sounds pretty dramatic and funny at the same time, lol)

The motor of your vehicle vibrated between your thighs. Every time you edged it on to go faster, you felt the roar, but you couldn't hear it. Your head was elsewhere. Your thoughts were racing faster than your bike and your senses focused on everything that was happening outside the bubble, including you, the bike, the trailer and its content: Bane.

Eyes scanning every oncoming car or pedestrian suspiciously. Ears reaching out for the sound of the sirens of police cars. Once or twice they had been close, and you made sure to decrease your speed to the permitted level. Idiotic though. The streets were almost empty after all, so only the mere sight of you (and the trailer) was high peak suspicious. But the police didn't seem to care. Bigger problems were afoot and you were just a very small drop in the ocean of diarrhea, that was going down in this city. And to be honest, you weren't sure what you would have done. Sell Bane out from the get-go? A “I was just gonna bring him over to you guys!” or a “What? How did this man, I've never seen in my life, get there?” Which was such a bad lie, you'd deserve to get arrested just for telling it. Or would you try to outrace them? (Which wasn't the greatest idea with an injured person in your trailer and the faster you'd go, the wobblier the trailer and the harder the steering would get.) Or, or, or? You weren't sure and you didn't want to think about it. You were just hoping for the best – not encountering the officials at all.

The kind of information, your eyes were not passing on to your brain, was the bumpy road ahead. Only when you felt the metal rattling differently than usual, your attention was drawn to the pavement (or rather the lack of it in forms of cracks and holes).

The old, partially rundown buildings, cheap shops and bad infrastructure and streets made it painfully obvious, you had entered the poor part of Gotham. The city officials had decided on neglecting these parts decades ago, just putting money in what was a necessary fix, and nothing about that had changed since. Maybe celebrating the occasional opening of a new mall, seemingly a try to help improving people's lives around here by creating jobs and opportunities. But these people had learned from other former poor districts of the city. Districts they maybe had lived in and been a part of years ago, until increasing living costs had forced them to move farther and farther away from the centre and make place for wealthier inhabitants, while they still had to drive to their old neighbourhoods every morning to serve these people and work shitty low-pay jobs at companies belonging to the richest of the rich of Gotham.

So the occasional new mall, either accidentally burned down most of time, or turned into an indoor ghost town. And people in this part of the city had learned to rather stick their eyes to the ground, as to not stumble one more time on their already stone-riddled path through life. Lifting and broadening your gaze, meant to eventually trip and fall. And there always was a way to fall deeper than from where you had started and a place worse to end up at.

Your ears shifted back from the sirens in the distance, as you heard muffled moans from behind. “I'm so, so sorry!”, your own voice felt distant yet sounded close as it ricochet in the inside of your helmet, that you somehow had managed to put on (even as scatterbrained as you were. Hey! Safety first, right?), as you had fled the scene.

You knew this was the fastest and most inconspicuous way to get to your destination. But the state these streets were in, made you hesitant to go any further, anxious it would only worsen the dire condition of your back seat passenger. Whoever he was, this was a very miserable way to die, and you wished it on no one. It was almost impossible to keep your mind from spinning around all the possibilities, all the outcomes this could have but first and foremost fear crept up your spine with every passing second. The fear he wouldn't make it. And driving towards the sun setting for the night, made the fickle nature of Bane's life hanging from a very thin thread painfully visible to you.

Your heart gave a leap out of relief, as you took your eyes off of the blinding red giant and they recognised your destination. Finally you stopped the motorcycle in front of a building most familiar to you. The project you lived in. The number of floors, and the number of apartments each of them contained, made it difficult to know each and every of this building's inhabitants. Different ways of living and working, made it nearly impossible to come across all their faces. One face you were able to describe as clear as day, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night, was Izzy's. Ishmael, or Izzy, as you liked to call him, was your oldest friend. Both from poor and broken families (though in different ways), both ending up at the same orphanage at a young age. It wasn't just because you both had been the new kids at the place, that you two had bonded so quickly, but you had never liked bullies, and Izzy had been a very easy target to pick on. At least once a week, you had ended up with dark bruises, a bloody nose or a cut on your lip, or you found yourself in detention or grounded. You didn't care because you were sure, the slurs thrown at him hurt a lot more than that.

Your gloved hands almost threw the helmet from you, as well as the damn things covering them, when your nervously clumsy hands failed to unbind the rope from the hooks to take off the cover of your trailer. A pair of tired eyes set in a pale face greeted you and you instantly felt your stomach drop.

The trick with the carpet wouldn't work with this gritty pavement, so ya good old muscles had to wake up for this part of the journey. As you helped the injured man, who was easy and at least a head taller than you, out of the trailer, he put some of his weight on you but you could feel he was hesitant about letting you carry too much. Sure, he was a big guy and as you walked towards the entrance of the building, cloaked in secrecy by the growing darkness of the night and the empty streets (and the fact that neighbours simply didn’t give a shit about what others were doing), a slight burning sensation set itself to start in your legs and arms already, but you were stronger than most people (especially men) thought. “I can take it,” you told Bane with a slight but encouraging huff, shuffling closer to him, positioning more of his arm over your shoulders. Just in the last few moments you had observed with growing concern, that carrying most his own weight, had drained a lot of his remaining energy very fast.

Hesitating one more moment, the tall man tried a pretty gentle approach to literally dropping more weight on your shoulders. Surprised by the fact you did not collapse under him, he was even more surprised as you headed for the elevator in a very steady pace.

You didn't know how you did it. To carry most of that pile of meat that was a (barely alive) man to Izzy's door. It felt like taking you hours, just as the time span between the ringing sound of the doorbell and seeing your friends face seemed to go on an eternity. Time really was relative, man.

A smiling face greeted you and dropped instantly as it recognised the face next to you. Somehow you had seen this reaction coming and had put your combat boot clothed foot into the door. “Please Izzy, I need your help!”, you begged him. You knew he didn't mean to react like that. He had his reasons. “Are you insane? Bringing this man to my friggin' door, Y/N?”, even in situations like these, he couldn't bring himself to swear properly. “The whole city is looking for him! He's a darn terrorist!”, Izzy whisper-shouted which was almost comically, if this all hadn't been greatly tinted with seriousness and urgency. “Then I guess your Hippocratic oath means shit. More like hypocritical if you ask me, dude!”, you hissed back.

For a brief second your soft boy Ishmael's lips twitched to form an amused smile, but before he could compliment you on that comeback, you felt Bane's hands grabbing onto you, as his legs gave up under him and he started slipping out of your grip.

______________________________________________

Tagslist: @markusstraya @scuzmunkie

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ariadnelives · 5 years

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Chapter 29 -- The Hypocritical Oath

[Missed earlier chapters? Go catch up here! Otherwise, welcome back! Oh, and make sure to join our discord server! Chapter can also be found @ ao3”]

Several minutes earlier, Pilar and Sasha had just severed every wire they could see coming out of the transmitter, causing some truly abrasive alarms to ring through the facility.

Elsewhere in the facility, there were several dozen fanatically devoted men with guns that had, up to this point, been occupied by the Whiptails. When the alarms sounded, they retreated immediately to seek out the cause of the alarm. Due to their fanatical devotion to Dr. Simon’s cause, to them, protecting Dr. Simon’s escape route was more important to them than their own lives, so they believed that many of them would likely be killed in the attempt to retreat. They were fine with this, so long as at least some of them made it to the transmitter to stop whatever sabotage had been inflicted upon it.

What they did not expect was that Spacebreather, by herself, was far more dangerous than the rest of the Whiptails put together. The majority of the Whiptails had been carefully trained to use only non-lethal force, while Spacebreather was more than willing to kill when necessary, and absolutely overqualified to do so for a person her age. They failed to understand that the men attempting to retreat would be the most likely to live another day, while the men attempting to stop Pilar had likely signed their own death warrant.

Inside the transmitter room, Sasha and Pilar were preparing to fight their way out. Both of them had the same job in this fight: keep the other alive. Sasha kept Pilar alive by immediately patching up any wounds she might receive, and Pilar kept Sasha alive by seriously injuring anyone who attempted to hurt Sasha before they managed to do so.

This was how they had functioned whenever they fought side by side in their pirate careers. This was the first time they’d ever been forced to break this mold.

Approximately 8 seconds after they’d cut the wire, as they prepared to descend from the platform, three dozen armed men stormed into the room. Pilar, having prepared for this possibility, flipped backwards over the ledge and, on the way to the ground, drew two short knives from the strap on her thigh.

She landed on top of one of the men, breaking his neck and killing him instantly. She ensured that the two knives landed directly in the top of two other goons’ skulls. Both of these men were carrying automatic weapons, both of which were in Pilar’s hands by the time her feet touched the ground. She was skilled at avoiding gunfire, having had a lot of practice. Her movements almost looked like a ballet, and none of the projectiles managed to touch her, yet.

She fired six shots from each of her weapons. Twelve headshots in less than a second, a new personal best for her. For a moment, she pondered that she would have to add a tally mark for each of these men to the tattoo on her arm, and hoped she never had so many tally marks that she ran out of space for them.

One of the goons took this moment as an opportunity to throw a plasma grenade in Pilar’s direction. It, unfortunately, would not prove to be the opportunity he expected it to be, as Pilar was fast enough to hit the grenade back at him with the barrel of her rifle. This was unfortunate for this particular henchman for obvious reasons, but since he was wearing a bandolier of other explosives across his chest, it was also unfortunate for the eight henchmen standing closest to him, as all the explosives detonated at once, bringing a quick end to nine more functionally identical henchmen.

“Pilar, catch!” Sasha called down from the ledge. Both sisters were hoping she wouldn’t have to leave her relatively safe cover in order to treat an injury. Both sisters would consequently shortly be disappointed.

Pilar instinctively reached a hand out to catch whatever Sasha had thrown without looking, a skill they’d developed over years of unexpectedly throwing things at each other for kicks. She caught something heavy and apparently made of metal, wrapped in leather.

“Is this…” Pilar asked, ducking behind a pillar to unsheath it, “Where did you find a machete?”

“It was on one of the guards we knocked out on the way in!”

They were only unconscious, but they had no intention of moving them out of the chamber before the failsafe went off, which by Pilar’s best guess was about three minutes and thirty seconds away, so she made a mental note to add two more tally marks to her tattoo.

“Why did he have a machete?” Pilar called back.

“I’m not his mom!” Sasha replied from the balcony, “I don’t really have any more information on that than you do!”

This was a satisfactory answer to Pilar. “Thanks, sis!” Pilar said, unsheathing the large blade and rustling in her pocket until she found a small, round object which she threw to the ground where it exploded with a snap, creating a dense cloud of thick, gray, pungent smoke. Before it cleared, she lunged towards the crowd of remaining henchmen and managed to cut eight throats in only two strokes.

Eight more tally marks.

She then managed to run three of them through with the machete before the smoke fully cleared.

Pilar quickly tried to count her kills, to see how many hostiles were remaining with her visibility impaired. She got through the following thought process in less than a second:

We took out two on the way in then there were thirty-six oh my god have I killed thirty-six people today no there were more I killed some of the guards on the surface this shouldn’t be this easy for me stay focused, thirty-eight hostiles total, two killed on the way in, three more on landing, twelve headshots, that’s seventeen total, then nine more with the grenades, that’s twenty-six, eight slit throats, thirty-four, skewered three more, so that’s thirty-sev—-

It was at this point that one of the rounds fired blindly by the lone remaining henchman managed to find its place, by pure random chance, in Spacebreather’s right shoulder.

“PILAR!” Sasha screamed, and bounded out from behind cover. Sasha had never been a particularly violent person, but when she saw Pilar go down from behind cover, her entire field of vision flashed red and when she came to a second later, she was holding a knife in her left hand, which was wet and warm. She opened her eyes and saw the knife in her hand was also embedded deep in the last henchman’s throat. Her hand was soaked with blood. She had no idea where she’d gotten the knife; she certainly didn’t have it on the balcony. There was an open wound on her right arm where a bullet had grazed her on the way down. This was the first person Sasha ever killed.

She didn’t have time to be traumatized yet, so she resolved to do that later and rushed to her sister’s side.

“You…” Pilar whimpered, “did you just… kill a guy?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there,” Sasha said calmly, “let’s focus on getting you out of here alive, okay?”

“S-serum,” Pilar sputtered.

“It’s not gonna work on this,” Sasha replied as calmly as her impending panic attack would allow, “not until we get that bullet out of you.”

‘Wh—” Pilar started.

“What kind of asshole uses a physical bullet in this day and age? Good question, I have no idea. Thankfully he has a knife in his throat now,” Sasha tried to keep pressure on the wound and get Pilar over her shoulder. “Come on, we just gotta get you out of here and I can dig that bullet out and then pump you full of serum.”

“Leave me,” Pilar gasped.

“Out of the question,” Sasha replied. “You’ve survived worse than this.”

“Two minutes,” Pilar coughed up blood. “No use in us both dying.”

Sasha looked her sister directly in the eyes as severely as she could. “Don’t be a drama queen,” she said, looking to Pilar as much like their father as she’d seen since the day they lost him, “I just got you back, and I’m not leaving you here.”

“No,” Pilar cried, “no, I won’t have you die because of me, just live your life, keep going strong, keep whatever it is that’s—”

Sasha didn’t need to glance at the clock to know there were only about 45 seconds left. “We don’t have time to argue. As your next of kin, I’m authorizing your doctor to make this decision on your behalf. You’re not allowed to die, so, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt.”

“It already—” Pilar was cut off mid-sentence by Sasha throwing her over her shoulder fireman-style with a roughness that was not by any stretch of the imagination medically advisable, but at this point Sasha felt having a living sister with treatable injuries was better than having a dead sister with only one injury.

They escaped the room approximately fifteen seconds before the failsafe went off, destroying the transmitter completely and wiping away any evidence of the thirty-eight henchmen who’d died attempting to kill them. Sasha and Pilar watched the blue glow eradicate everything in the room, just to be sure their task had been successful, and then they hobbled their way down to the room where they knew Ariadne and Sweettalk to be. Sasha held Pilar’s sidearm in her right hand. She was naturally left-handed, but her left arm was currently supporting someone who was surprisingly heavy for her thin frame.

Pilar noticed the gash on Sasha’s upper arm. “You’re hurt.”

“Just think of it as my first, and hopefully only, tally-mark.”

Pilar’s heart dropped. “You killed a guy,” she said sadly.

“You’re welcome, Sasha, for saving my life,” Sasha smirked sarcastically.

“Isn’t that, like, against the Hypocritical oath?”

“Heh,” Sasha replied.

“What?”

“It’s the Hippocratic oath.”

“Whatever oath,” Pilar groaned.

“‘First, do no harm,’” Sasha pondered, “I don’t remember taking any oath.”

Pilar laughed, which was painful. “What kind of crappy medical school did you go to?”

“Homeschooled,” Sasha laughed, “I said I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up and my sister’s nerdy girlfriend stole me a bunch of medical supplies and textbooks the next day.”

“She sounds hot,” Spacebreather chuckled as lightly as she could without disturbing the bullet lodged in her shoulder, “think you could introduce me?”

“She’s just down the hall,” Sasha could see the door from here, “just get down the hall… of course, you can’t just learn from textbook. My idiot big sister kept getting herself hurt so I had a lot of hands-on practice.”

They both laughed, and it had been a long time since they had really genuinely laughed together like this. It would have been a perfect moment had it not quickly devolved into a coughing fit from Pilar.

“You always took good care of me,” Pilar’s speech was sounding somewhat slurred.

“Hey, stay with me! Just a little bit longer,” Sasha said, “I’ve still gotta take care of you for a long time, okay? I gotta introduce you to that nerd I was telling you about.”

“I love her,” Pilar muttered, “I don’t tell her that enough.”

“Shut up,” Sasha said, “you tell her all the time You have a shirt that says ‘I love my girlfriend’ on it.”

Pilar groaned. “Half the people on the crew have that shirt.”

“Well, there’s a lot of love on our crew,” Sasha explained, “and if you can get like… 50 more feet, the girls we love are right through that door and you can tell her you love her all you want.”

“I’m gonna kiss her,” Pilar muttered.

“You’d better,” Sasha said, “she’ll kill me if she doesn’t get to kiss you again.”

“She’s an amazing kisser,” Pilar slurred.

“That’s really none of my business,” Sasha started.

“I’m proud of you,” Pilar was barely intelligible. “You… she’s really good for you… she really is…”

“Sweettalk?”

“Mgrmph,” Pilar agreed.

“I always thought you didn’t really like her.”

“I didn’t,” Pilar sounded drowsy. It was clear that even with the serum, she was going to need a blood transfusion, “because she was… cocky… smooth-talking… arrogant… I never would’ve gotten to know her if you two didn’t…”

“Stay with me, sis, we’re so close.”

“Now I could… we could be friends… I was wrong about her… She wasn’t… she…”

“She’ll be glad to hear you say that,” Sasha tried to pick up the pace a little, “but she’ll never believe me, so you’d better stay with me long enough to tell her yourself. Remember, you are not allowed to die.”

“Tell me…”

“What do you want to know?” Sasha asked, focusing only on the door.

“Tell me what… you love… why do you love her…”

“She’s smart,” Sasha said, “way too smart, and so fun.”

“Keep going…”

“And yes, she’s an amazing kisser,” Sasha said.

Pilar coughed again. “No… not that… something real…”

Sasha considered this “She’s thoughtful, she’s always getting me little gifts. This robe… well, you’re gonna see it in a few minutes… She’s deep, but she doesn’t like people to know that. And when we’re alone… she’s so sweet that I know she’ll never leave me, even when everyone else is convinced that she betrayed us to the cops to save her own skin, I know she’ll come back for me because…”

Pilar was fading fast. “Because…?”

“Because we can’t live without each other. With all both of us have been through, for me to meet the love of my life so young? I know God put us together for a reason.”

“Don’t let Ariadne hear you say that…”

“Ariadne is the only atheist I know who’s met two different gods,” Sasha rolled her eyes, “you landed the most stubborn girl in the universe.”

“God, I love her so much…”

They were perhaps ten feet from the door now, and Sasha seemed determined to keep talking so that Pilar could focus on her voice and stay conscious. “And I guess I’m not a very good Catholic, I’m pretty sure I just broke the first commandment saying that. And, uh, number five, back there in the, uh… wow, I am gonna need to do a lot of rosaries.”

Pilar chuckled without adding anything to this.

“What’s so funny?” Sasha asked.

“We’re pirates…”

“Yes, we’re pirates. Good memory.”

“No, we… I mean, number seven.”

“Thou shalt not steal? Yeah, I guess we do kinda break that one pretty often,” Sasha said with a great deal of guilt, something all too common amongst those raised Catholic, “I think we’re still good people, though.”

“You are,” Pilar mumbled. “Ariadne too. Sweettalk. Not me… I’m going to hell for sure.”

“I’m pretty sure God will let a few broken commandments go if we were doing it to save hungry and abused children, that’s… kinda his whole deal,” Sasha dropped the sidearm to the ground and struggled to open the door single-handed, “plus, you do a great job with number four.”

They entered the room as Ariadne, Sweettalk, and the Triplets were coming out of the virtual interface. With as much urgency as she could muster, Sasha called to them: “I need your help, she’s been shot!”

“You always have to prove me wrong!” Ariadne rushed over and immediately took Pilar onto her own shoulder so Sasha could get to work on digging the bullet out, “you are not allowed to die.”

“You two have been spending too much time together” Pilar sputtered.

Sasha took out a strip of black fabric and lay it over Pilar’s wound. The fabric swirled and shimmered silver and gold for a moment before the silver parts settled into the shape of the ribcage beneath the skin, and the gold settled into the shape of a bullet, lodged between two ribs, near the heart.

“Is that … the robe I got you?” Sweettalk asked. “You dork, I thought you were kidding about the medical applications of it!”

“Gimme your knife,” Sasha demanded, and Sweettalk complied immediately.

Two minutes later, with the help of their loved ones, the bullet was out. Another minute later, Pilar had taken a dose of the serum and the bullet wound had healed completely.

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zehypocriticaloath · 5 years

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— 8 PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER !!

tagged by: @sleepywitchevie

tagging: @artsplosive @blubettermedic @pushspacetocontinue @redbritishsniper @redheadrecon @thehighclassbadass @nichtschaden @falkinghannacross

ONE ( NAME / ALIAS ): Moxie/Cuddly

TWO ( BIRTHDAY ): Aug. 11th

THREE ( ZODIAC SIGN ): Leo

FOUR ( HEIGHT ): 5′2” (closer to the ground, closer to hell. Yea boy)

FIVE ( HOBBIES ): reading, video games, CATS, rooting around outside for bones and rocks, listening to rock/metal/synth

SIX ( FAVOURITE COLOUR(S) ): Almost the entire cool pallet of color-making. Seriously. Total opposite of the bloke I RP.

SEVEN ( FAVOURITE BOOKS ): Anything written by Daniel Silva or Guillermo Del Toro. Give them to me.

EIGHT ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO ): Pro Memoria by Ghost

NINE ( LAST FILM WATCHED ): Venom (hell yea)

TEN ( INSPIRATION FOR MUSE ): Pure schadenfreude; Hugh Laurie’s character House; the two main assholes from Scrubs; accounts of rebellion during WWII; and a few other people in fiction, way too tired to list ‘em.

ELEVEN ( MEANING BEHIND YOUR URL ): A play on the Hippocratic oath that all Doctors and those of a medical staff swear by. It is something they must adhere by, and was named in reference of Hippocrates. They are not allowed to break this, and must dutifully heal patients, no matter what. Aldous, of course, is a backwards man of unorthodox ways, and he is in the mercenary business which, technically, does not adhere to many rules. As such, his Hippocratic Oath is, more or less, a hypocritical one (hypocritical, Merriam-Webster: “characterized by behavior that contradicts what one claims to believe or feel” ), since the man is quite hypocritical in his own way. He can be nasty and cruel, but really feel otherwise, and vice versa. Though a man of medicine, he has been known to avoid his duties and refuse to heal certain patients (based on their attitude to him).

#ooc

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on-the-wings-of-hope-prose-en · 3 years

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Prison

The Overseer of the entrusted to him otherworldly prison excitedly walked around the reception zone, exhaling tongues of purple flame from time to time. He was incredibly happy. Very soon, several million new freshly disembodied prisoners were supposed to be transferred here. Several million future slaves. The seeds that had been sown by them in souls over several hundred years have finally come to fruition. Grandiose!

A deep-throated laugh, full of rage and triumph, rang out in the room, causing the thin tongues of the braziers lighting the immersed in semi-darkness hall to vibrate in fear. As if in response, the liquid gurgled savorily in the cauldron that was located in the corner of the hall. Sleeping next to the cauldron, Cerberus half-opened one eye and yawned hard with both of his mouths, as if coming out of a centuries-old stupor. Somewhere in the distance, on another plane, horses neighed in anticipation of their riders.

The Overseer decided to interrogate the first few newcomers himself – to remove, so to speak, the cream of the dark flame from their black souls. The rest will be handled by his wards. Time was in abundance. After all, what is death and eternity for those who have never lived?

A light click of the tail on the black stone of the floor – and now the first of the future prisoners is sitting in front of him, looking around in surprise. The time has come for the interrogation of another dead soul. Stretched out on a leather-upholstered bone throne, the Overseer stared with his blood-red eyes, in which the flame tongues had been dancing playfully, at his new newly disembodied slave.

“The Earth ruler,” the Overseer’s imperious tone did not ask, but confirmed, “The killer. I love such ones!”

“Truly?” the ethereal image that vaguely resembled a human was taken aback in surprise, “At the Court, I was told that God abandoned me because…”

“Because he has no need for souls like yours,” the Overseer didn’t let him finish, “And we dote on you. Your soul is so dark and delicious.”

“But I’ve already told all of you that I had no other choice. People have revolted! My very life was in danger!”

“Is that so?” as if with a bit of irony, the Overseer tilted one of his horns to the side, “And why did they act so rashly, I wonder?”

“I have no idea!” The ethereal figure of the former earth ruler bitterly clasped his hands, “Ungrateful commoners always demand something! Bastards!”

“And so you rewarded them with executions and mass shootings…” the Overseer barked, “I love such people! You will descend far! How about working as my deputy?”

“And… is that possible? Perhaps this is too much of an honor for me? I think… probably… considering the circumstances… I must agree.”

“Then it’s a deal of paws and hoofs!” The Overseer shouted, and from this terrible roar the flames of the braziers fluttered again, as if on an invisible wind, “You will replace me in one of the dark worlds.”

A snap of the paw’s fingers, a clatter of hooves on the skulls decorating the foot of the throne – and the outlines of the ethereal figure abruptly wavered, horns suddenly began to stretch out on his head, a tail started growing and forking, and once green eyes began to fill with blood…

“What are you doing to me… It’s not what I… it’s not me…”

“In his image and likeness…” the Overseer finished philosophically for him as if reluctantly breaking into a smile, “Next one!”

“Can I come in?” timidly asked the image of another person who materialized in the place of the disappeared ruler, “Knock, knock, knock?”

“A doctor. Vaccinator. My friend, how glad I am to have this unearthly meeting with you!” The Overseer chuckled, “The doors of my humble abode are always open for souls like you!”

“I think I got a little lost,” shifting from one foot to the other, the spirit of the former doctor confusedly admitted, “I only reached the six hundred and sixty-fifth office, and I need to go to…”

“Our, if I may say so, medical office, will just be your next stop! What are you complaining about, my patient?”

“It’s cold… very… cold here…” said the spirit, shivering, as if there were no braziers in the hall at all.

“It’s true!” the Overseer suddenly sharply agreed with him, “There is no warmth in evil hearts! But we have developed heart vaccines specifically for the ones like you. They, as you guessed it… transform these hearts. I would even say that they genetically modify them. Turn into a piece of ice!”

With these words, the Overseer waved his hand imperiously, and thirty syringes suddenly began hovering over the ethereal figure of the doctor, who was shaking from the cold, aiming their needles directly at his eyes and heart.

“What… but I… we saved them!”

“Saved from life? Well done, I applaud you! Although a small part of them still got to heaven, most of them will soon come to our domain!”

“There was… an epidemic… We cured…”

“N-o-o-o-o!” The Overseer guffawed, “You gave birth to it! Even children were infected. You acted better than the fascists! And all your so-called “Hippocratic oath” is now nothing more than a fig leaf designed to close your insatiable thirst for profit from human pain and suffering! You tried to treat only the bodies, and never remembered about the soul! But you won’t need your soul anymore…”

“But… we didn’t know that it truly…”

“Yes, it does exist! And yours is now at our direct disposal until the end of times.”

“But… our experiments…”

“Better practice on rats for now!”

A new wave of a clawed paw, an imperious blow with a hoof – and the outlines of the doctor’s figure began to rapidly shrink, distort, as if in some rapid mutation, and a few seconds later a huge black rat was running under the Overseer’s feet, feebly squeaking.

“Don’t you forget your vaccines!” The Overseer said a second before pinning her to the floor with thirty syringes floating in the air, “Next one!”

“Wow, that’s cool! You know, the local carnivorous flora and fire-breathing fauna seem to be extremely diverse, the air filled with sulfur and ash perfectly tones my lungs, and the sight of your throne takes my breath away! I could write a wonderful article about this in…”

“Hypocrite!” the Overseer sharply spitted in response to the human image, but not the likeness, that appeared in the hall, “Your name is legion!”

“Yes, yes, so, as I already mentioned, I could write how great…”

“A journalist! A life of lies! Love that!” The Overseer’s hooves clattered in excitement, and his tail split at the end, “You’ve served our cause well, along with the doctors-killers. What reward do you desire for misleading millions?!”

“No, no, you misunderstood me, we didn’t mislead them, we just expressed our personal point of view, which may not coincide…”

“Expressed it?!” and the braziers in the hall again trembled with rolling laughter, and the Cerberus, who was once again immersed in sleep, opened one of his eyes, “You didn’t express it, you imposed it! Lies from your filthy tongues have been pouring into the ears of gullible souls for decades! Tens of millions of deceived and lost souls, a wonderful harvest. What kind of reward do you desire for that?!”

“Well… I… we… don’t even know what to say…”

“Then be silent forevermore!”

The lips and mouth of the ethereal spirit of the journalist suddenly moved spontaneously, his eyes widened in horror, and after a few seconds he spat out his blackened and twisting tongue with a wild wheeze. This tongue, now living a completely independent life, began to wriggle like a worm, crawling away towards the boiling cauldron, where it was soon seized and torn apart by the awakened Cerberus. With his eyes bulging with horror, the spirit of the journalist held his hands to his mouth, unable to utter a single word.

Contentedly shifting from hoof to hoof, this ruler of the ninth circle of Hell put a clawed paw finger to the forehead of his victim, rapidly drawing something on it.

“Ours now,” he confirmed with satisfaction after a short time, “If you have no desire to be children of God, you will become our slaves instead. Next one!”

15.07.2021

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gleefuldarrencrissfan · 7 years

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Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsChapter 19- The Show’s Gotta Go All Over the Place or Something!

Author’s Note: After passing 100 reviews, I held a drawing. Some of you got a sneak peek. Thanks to all of you that review. They really help me in the process of writing this. I know this isn’t the show, but it’s going to be so long that I need to cut it into two chapters.

He shivered. The blonde rolled over in the bed, yawning softly and rubbing his eyes before reaching for a blanket. No wonder he was cold. He was in nothing but his boxers. His sticky boxers. Man, he hated waking up like this. He must have had a highly erotic dream. He tried to pull the blanket over him, but it wouldn’t budge. He turned to discover the reason.

It was then he realized that it wasn't his blanket, and that he wasn’t in his own bed. Jeff’s mind was swimming with recollections of the previous evening spent with the gorgeous man whose body was snuggled next to his own.

Every since the first date, they had gone out every night and ended up at his place or Nick’s. The first night was pretty tame with some making out and lying together in one another’s arms until they fell asleep snuggled together. The next night, they ended up at Jeff’s, with the shorter boy pressing the blonde against the door before it was even closed behind him, his tongue begging for access into Jeff’s warm mouth. It wasn’t long before Jeff asked the brunette if they could move to the bedroom. Things heated up in there quickly, with Nick lying on top of him, clad only in his boxer briefs, and Jeff in a thin wife beater and his boxers.

“Jeffie, I meant it last night, and it still stands tonight. We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to just hold you tonight.”

“Then hold me while you do what you want to me. I want this, Nick. You aren’t taking advantage of me at all. Please,” he remembered himself begging.

It wasn’t long before both men were in orgasmic bliss, with Nick collapsing on top of the blonde, feeling completely sated.

“You are incredible. That was incredible,” the brunette whispered into his ear before closing his eyes.

Jeff smiled as the brunette’s hand brushed against his back, and he felt the man shift so that his body was spooning his own before drifting off to sleep.

And now, for the fourth night in a row, Jeff woke up to the warmth of another body, snuggling beside him, feeling a little foreign at first, but then feeling more like home than ever before.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Nick said softly, blushing when he realized that he was ready for round two. Damn!

“Good morning,” Jeff grinned. I was about to get up and brew us some coffee, though you seem to be up already, or at least part of you,” he grinned suggestively. “I have a feeling one or both of us will need it, seeing we didn’t get much sleep. And I need a shower.”

“I’d say we both do,” Nick chuckled. “But the coffee sounds good. I could do that, if you want to jump in first. You could borrow some clothes.”

“Thank you,” Jeff smiled. “So, tonight…” his voice trailed off.

“Is hopefully going to be just the two of this time, right?” Nick asked bashfully. “I mean, I love the club, but I just want to get a night with some quiet, private time. If it’s ok, I kind of planned to cook dinner for us here and maybe watch a movie,” he smiled.

“ I think that sounds amazing,” Jeff grinned, brushing his lips gently against nick’s. “Actually, I think you are amazing,” the brunette said as he filled the coffee pot with water.

“I think you’re pretty fantastic too,” Jeff smiled. “Um, since we’ve both had a great time together, and things are about to get crazy with the show airing tomorrow, I-uh wanted to- uh- ask you s-something.” Jeff stammered.

Nick looked puzzled. “Jeff, what is it, baby?”

“I love it when you call me baby.” Jeff grinned. “Nick, I really like you, and I know that things are moving fast between us, but it just feels so right.”

Nick nodded. “I felt the same way, Jeffie, but I’m still not sure what you are saying.” Nick said nervously, flicking the on button for the coffee pot.

It was almost silent, except for the steady drip, drip, drip of the coffee splashing into the pot as it brewed. “Nicky, would you be my boyfriend? I mean, I know we just met, but I just have this feeling that it’s right, that something is pulling us together. But, if you think it’s too soon, or if you don’t want to, I’m sorry. It’s too sudden, I’m sorry,” Jeff rambled quickly.

Nick leaned in and kissed the blonde senseless, his hands gripping Jeff’s face passionately. “Jeff, of course. I’d love to,” he smiled. “Go take that shower, ok,” Nick said, slapping the blonde on his firm, tight ass. “Those boxers can’t feel that comfy anymore.”

“Ok,” Jeff smiled. “But you know, boyfriend, you kinda have the same issue over there. I’m a relatively skinny guy, and you have a relatively large shower. What do you say we save some time and water and my sexy-assed boyfriend; join me?”

Jeff didn’t need to ask him twice before his boxers were on the floor, and the two men felt the steam rise around them, not completely sure if it was the hot water or the heat from their own bodies fogging up the glass.

“This isn’t working,” Kurt sighed. “It just sounds weird. And you playing the drums while I stand there awkwardly just isn’t going to cut it.”

Mr. Shu nodded. “He’s right, Finn. You guys need another strategy. Kurt, can you play an instrument?”

“I can play the piano.”

“That will work!” Finn exclaimed.

“Not necessarily,” Kurt replied. “There’s not much piano in “We Will Rock You. And I don’t know if I can master the song by tomorrow night in front of a live audience.”

“But there is piano in “We are the Champions,” Mr. Shuester commented. “Queen used to perform the two songs together. Why don’t you guys do the same thing. Kind of like a mash up,” he suggested. “Finn can take the lead in “We Will Rock you, followed by Kurt in ‘We are the Champions, fusing the two together in the end. It will be unexpected, and it will play to both of your vocal styles. Kurt, can you play the song? Brad could always play as well.”

“I think so, if I had the sheet music to rehearse. I may need someone who can play to help me with a few of the chords, but I’ve played the song before.”

“I think it could work,” Finn grinned. “We make a good team, Kurt,” he said, fistbumping the shorter boy.

“Yeah, I agree. I’m glad that we were paired together, although I’m sorry about Puck. Carol told me that you two used to be close friends,” Kurt said sympathetically.

“Carol? Carol who?”

Kurt gulped. Finn didn’t know yet. The contestants only had short conversations with their family members once a week, and she must’ve not mentioned what was going on.

“Wait, the only Carol I know is my mother?” Finn reasoned. “How do you know my mom? And why have you spoken to her about Puck?”

“Hey guys, I need to go to a meeting with the judges ok, but you are going to sound great. Thanks for your hard work,” Mr. Shuester said with a thumbs up.

Finn waved to Mr. Shu, but he wasn’t ready to drop the subject. He looked questionably at Kurt. “Um, maybe I shouldn’t be the one telling this. It’s not really my story to tell,” Kurt said softly, “but I know your mom through my Dad. We both lived in Ohio at one time. Did you realize that?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t live there long. I was recruited to play football at Ohio State my Freshman year. Mom lives in Columbus, but she only moved there when I started going to school there. Did you guys live in Columbus?”

“No, we lived in Lima until middle school, and then we moved to New York.”

Finn looked puzzled. “But that still doesn’t explain how they know each other. Your dad moved out here with you, right?” Finn questioned. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s ok. Almost as good as new.”

“Is that why you decided to come back on the show.”

“Yeah, I mean, now that he has a nurse, two actually, I don’t worry quite so much,” Kurt answered quickly.

“That’s great man. Hey, my Mom’s a nurse.”

Kurt cringed, hoping that Finn didn't make the connection.

“Wait? You still didn’t answer how our parents know each other? Did your dad know my Dad or something? We aren’t related, are we?” Finn asked scratching his head.

“Not yet,” Kurt mumbled under his breath.

“What?” Finn asked cocking his head sideways.

“Nothing,” Kurt answered quickly. “Just forget I mentioned it.”

“No, man. How does your Dad know my Mom?”

Kurt blurted, “Because your Mom is my Dad’s nurse.”

Finn looked even more confused. “But you just said that your dad lives here in LA? How can my Mom be his nurse if she’s in Ohio?

Kurt shook his head.

“Unless she??? She’s here. My mom moved here? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt answered. “She didn’t say anything to you?”

“No, she didn’t. I can’t believe that she followed me up here,” he sighed.

“She sounded really proud of you. She was bragging on you. You remind me of her.” She talked about you all the time, well, at least when I was still there.”

“Wait, how often did you see her? I mean, did you stay with you Dad at the hospital or something?”

Kurt shook his head. “Um, no. Your Mom assists him at our apartment. She’s his home care nurse while he recovers.”

“Oh, ok. For a minute there, I thought you were trying to tell me that they were dating or something,” Finn smiled.

“Well, uh, um,” Kurt stammered.

“Wait! They are dating!? Is that like even allowed? Isn’t there some hypocritical oath that nurses gotta take so they can’t date the dudes they care for?”

“It’s called the Hippocratic Oath, and that’s for doctors, although they don’t really have to sign anything. And they are cute together,” Kurt answered. “You’d like him.”

“Do you two have a lot in common?”

“Hardly a thing,” Kurt chuckled. “He wears flannel and watched Deadliest Catch.”

“And what else? What does he do?” Finn drilled, his curiosity getting the best of him.

“He’s a mechanic. Or he was before he sold the business. He had a pretty successful shop in upstate New York,” Kurt answered.

“Seriously. I just can’t picture you being in a garage. As much as you hate to get dirty. You must have hated it.”

“Actually, I know my way around an engine. I’ve even put in transmissions with my Dad.”

“Really. Cool dude. So you're like that chick in My Cousin Vinny.”

“Mona Lisa Vito. Uh, no, Finn. I’m not. I will never in my life wear a leather mini skirt.”

Finn chuckled. “So, your Dad is dating my Mom. Is it serious?”

Kurt bit his bottom lip. “Um, I’m not answering that. You need to ask your Mom. I know they are coming tomorrow night for the show. I think you should talk to her.”

“That’s a good idea. Thanks Kurt.” The taller boy smiled. “Wait! If it is serious, and they get married or something, does that mean we will be like, brothers?”

“Finn, they just met two weeks ago. Let’s not be brash.”

“What does this have to do with a rash?” Finn looked puzzled.

Kurt chuckled. “Finn, we are both grown men. It’s not like we would have to share a room together or anything. Well, we probably will be by the time this show is over anyway,” the pale boy said with a grin.

“Uh, I guess, dude,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Hey Kurt, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. If I had to have a brother, then you would be a pretty cool one to have.”

“Thanks Finn,” Kurt said, grinning widely. “Now, I need to track down a pianist. How about we agree to meet in the studio in two hours.”

“Cool!” Finn nodded.

“Mr. Figgins,” you called,” Carmen asked, walking into his office and sitting in front of the producer’s desk. Jesse, Sue, Ms. Corcoran, and Mr. Shuester were also seated around the desk.

“Yes, I wanted to ask if any of you heard back from any of the people you said you would contact for our celebrity judges?” he asked. “I confirmed the singer from Air Supply for week 5. How about you, Madam Tibbideaux?”

“Of course I did, but it was kind of short notice,” Carmen replied. “Josh Groban assured me that he would be willing serve on the panel, but he’s not in the country presently. Hugh Jackman told me that he may be able to help with the finale, but he’s currently filming in Australia.”

“April Rhodes said she would love to be a judge, but she’s currently working on a show. She can’t do it this week, but she said she would be available next week,” Will answered. “I also contacted Ricky Martin, but I only got his agent. He’s currently filming some top secret project. Some horror series.”

“What about you, Sue?” Mr. Figgins inquired. “You said that you were besties with Olivia Newton John. I liked her as Sandra Dee,” he grinned. “So pretty and wholesome.”

“She wasn’t answering my calls. I guess I did her a favor by helping her update that monstrosity of a video, and this is how she repays me. I also had my secretary call the reps for Jimmy Eat World. We had an Affair. She also contacted the drummer from My Chemical Romance. And Michael Bolton hasn’t responded yet either, although I did yet a call from his attorney. You'd think he'd answer my call, being that we have a child together.”

Jesse had just taken a drink of his soda, and he attempted to swallow it, but half choked, half spit the drink out of his mouth.

“You ok, Mr. St. James?” Carmen asked.

“Michael Bolton?” Jesse squeaked.

Mr. St. James?”

“Russell Simmons said maybe, and I got a hold of Perez HIlton.”Jesse swallowed, still trying to recover from the shocking statements Sue had made.

“Ms. Corcoran?” Figgins prompted.

“I contacted Jac-A, and that sounded promising, and Katie Couric is a friend of mine. I could call.”

“No,” Sue blurted. “She hates me. I’m pretty sure Mary Lou Redding does too.”

“I’m not going to even ask,” Shelby shook her head.

“So basically, we don’t have a judge lined up for tomorrow night,” Madam Tibbideaux observed. “So, what are our options?” Carmen asked.

“Well, we could contact June Dolloway, although I’m afraid that she may try to poach contestants.”

“I thought that she knows the Smythe family. Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

“Not to worry. Well use her after Weaselface is off of the show.” Sue snarked. “Speaking of famous people, Anderson has a famous brother. He’s the star of the FreeCreditRatingToday.com commercials. And Ms. Berry has famous dads.”

“That’s a conflict of interest too, although it would be interesting to meet the men that raised Rachel.” Jesse smiled.

So, other options?” Ms. Corcoran asked.

“I contacted Lindsay Lohan, and I didn’t get hung up on, so I call that a success,” Mr. Figgins answered.

“I have a suggestion. Rod, from the newscast. He’s a local celebrity, but he’s a national name as well. He’s a music fan too,” Sue suggested. “And he owes me a favor,” she smiled.

“I don’t think you should ask?” Jesse responded, putting his drink down.

“Alright, I'll call Rod. Thanks Sue,” Mr. Figgins said.

“Thanks for doing this. I’m a little rusty on the piano, but I told Finn I’d try, and I know that Queen is in your wheelhouse, though I wish we were singing this together,” Kurt admitted. They had been playing for almost two hours, and Kurt felt like it sounded pretty good.

“No problem,” Blaine smiled. “What are friends for,” Blaine said, smiling warmly at the brunette.

Kurt returned his grin, though he was a little saddened that friends was all they would ever be. Blaine had spoken loud and clear the other day. They were friends. That was it. Nothing more.

And yet, Blaine was sitting so close to him that their thighs were touching and their hands kept brushing one another's, sometimes with Blaine even leaning over Kurt to play keys that Kurt was closer too. He was so flirty, worse than Elliott ever was. Kurt tried to scoot apart a little on the bench. “Kurt, you won’t be able to play all of the notes like that,” he teased. It’s ok. Move in closer,” Blaine suggested, sliding over so that their thighs were touching again, immediately causing Kurt’s cheeks to turn a deep crimson, not to mention the tingling he felt in his designer jeans.

“Blaine, it’s ok. You don’t have to sit that close,” Kurt blushed again.

“Au contraire, but I do, if I want to reach all of the notes. Do you not want me too? If it’s too weird, I can give you your space,” Blaine said, immediately scooting away, a hint of worry scurrying across his face.

“No, no, not at all.” the brunette answered. “Blaine, don’t be silly. It’s fine. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Kurt explained.

“Kurt, I’d never feel uncomfortable with you. In fact, there’s no place I want to be right now. I’m honored you’d ask me to help you. I love spending time with you Kurt,” Blaine said, nudging his shoulder against the other boy.

Kurt was so confused. For someone who wanted to just be his friend, Blaine certainly was sending mixed signals. He sighed. Maybe he should’ve asked Brad, the piano player or Elliot. No. That Brad guy was creepy. Something just didn’t sit right with him about that guy, and Blaine was already jealous enough of Elliott. But it was just so difficult being near Blaine, his body so close to his own, knowing that this was as close as they would ever come to touching. Kurt sniffled, trying to suppress tears.

“Are you ok?” Blaine questioned, his fingers coming to a stop, his hand landing on top of Kurt’s.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kurt answered quickly, trying to hide his true feelings. He couldn’t risk it if Blaine didn’t feel the same, and he definitely didn’t want to get the boy eliminated. “It’s just this song. It’s a little emotional. I didn’t tell Finn, but I know how to play this song because my Mom taught me. It was one of the last songs I learned to play before she, passed,” Kurt sniffled again, this time a tear trickled down his cheek.

“Kurt, if you explain that to him, I’m sure that he would understand,” Blaine comforted, his thumb stroking over Kurt’s hand gently.

Kurt felt the skin beneath Blaine’s thumb suddenly grow warm, and it grew into a tingling sensation that traveled all the way up his arm and straight down his groin, causing him to shiver. Kurt pulled his hand back slowly, his gaze dropping so that Blaine didn’t see the apparent blush on his cheeks, and he hoped to God that Blaine’s eyes didn’t drift down lower to see the war that was trying to erupt below the piano. “No. Actually, I want to play it. For her. You know, so that I have a pleasant memory of the song again,” Kurt smiled. “Thank you Blaine,” Kurt said, leaning in, placing a small kiss to Blaine’s cheek.

Now, it was Blaine’s cheeks that were set ablaze with lust and desire for the pale boy sitting so closely beside him, the boy whose every word lingered in his mind and heart. The man who had his attention, his affection, his heart. Blaine’s hand moved up to Kurt’s cheek, cupping it gently. “Kurt, there’s a moment when you say to yourself…”

“Hey dudes,” yelled Sam barging into the studio, causing the two boys to scoot apart immediately. “Finn told me to tell you he’s running a little late, but he’ll be here soon,” he said, allowing the door to slam behind him as quickly as he had arrived.

Blaine stood, slightly relieved, knowing that if Sam hadn’t arrived when he did, everything, all his feelings would have burst out of his mouth and he wouldn’t be able to contain it anymore. “Well, Kurt. I think you're ready. It sounds great. You’ll sound amazing, but I don’t want to intrude on your practice. I’ll see you later, ok?”

“Blaine!” Kurt called. “I really mean it. Thank you!”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Blaine smiled, engulfing the brunette in a enormous hug before rushing out of the studio.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Brittany with (Santana)

Girl! (Girls!)

Who run this motha? ( Girls!) ya!

Girl! (Girls!)

Brittany with (Santana)

Who run the world? (Girls!) Girls!

Who run the world? (Girls! Girls!

Who run the world? (Girls!) Girls!

Who run the world? (Girls! Girls!)

Brittany

It's hot up in here

DJ don't be scared to run this, run this back

I'm repping for the girls who taking over the world

Have me raise a glass for the college grads

Anyone rolling I'll let you know what time it is, check

Damn! That girl was hot, especially when she danced, Santana thought as she and Britt ran through the song once more before the show tomorrow. She almost missed her cue watching the blonde in that tight leather mini skirt.

Brittany with (Santana)

See, you better not play me ( Play me)

Don't come here baby (Baby)

Hope you still like me ( Like me )

Brittany (Santana):

I f you pay me!

My persuasion (Oooo) can build a nation (Oooo)

Endless power, (Oooo) our love (Love-ove-ove!) we can devour

Santana and (Brittany)

You'll do anything for me

Who run the world? (Girls! Girls!)

Brittany was really giving it all she had nailing each move and every note. She was gorgeous anyway, but covered in perspiration and moving with the grace and flexibility of a gazelle made her absolutely irresistible to the latina girl.

Santana (with Brittany)

Who run the world? ( Girls! ) Girls!

Who run the world? (Girls! Girls!)

Santana (with Brittany)

We run the world! ( Who run this motha? Yeah!)

Who are we?

What we run?

We run the world!

Brittany:

Who run the world?

Santana:

Girls!

Brittany

Gi….

Santana couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed the blonde’s face, slamming her lips into the dancer’s, her hand sliding under that tiny mini skirt, and sliding her hand to cup her ass. She slid her hand under the waistband of the blonde’s lacy panties so that her fingers were caressing bare skin. “Damn, that was so hot!” Santana gasped into Brittany’s mouth, cramming her tongue into the other girl’s mouth before she could respond. “We’re going to win this whole damn thing!” she gloated.

“Not if you tackle me like that! That’s not the show they’re expecting to s-see,” stammered the blonde, as the Latina’s fingers continued to stroke the blonde’s smooth skin.

“Well, then let this be private,” Santana suggested,” pulling the other girl’s red jersey above her head and tossing it on the floor. “Brittany, you didn’t wear a bra,” Santana accused playfully.

“You don’t seem to mind!” Brittany gasped as Santana's tongue licked from her navel to her neck in one teasing motion.

“No, but how about we make this even,” the Latina suggested, quickly lifting her arms so the blonde could remove her tight top and bra before running her tongue along the Latina’s salty skin, making her way to the girl’s belly button.

“Now that we made it clear who runs the world, it’s time for me to rock yours,” Brittany said seductively, sliding the other girl’s panties down. It was going to be a wild night.

_____________________________________________________________________

The studio was abuzz, everyone running around crazily. This was it. The live show was tonight. All of the contestants, band, back-up singers, and crew were on set to prepare for the opening act, the group number. This was the final run-through, and they had yet to perform the song without mistakes.

“Finn, you’re on the wrong side of Rachel. Go right,” Brody yelled. “We’ve been over this.” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Can’t you just mark the stage or something.”

“You’re just walking forward,” Bryan Ryan remarked. “And we supposedly found the best of the best. We’re doomed,” he sighed.

“It’s the lights,” Finn explained. They’re shining right in my eyes.”

“”Show business, Frankenteen. Learn to deal,” Jesse smirked.

“You’re not helping,” Rachel accused. She smiled softly at the much taller boy. “Finn, just look at me before you turn around. I’ll cue you.”

“Let’s take it from the top,” Mike called.

All the contestants turned around and took their places as the lights darkened.

Da da da da da

da da da da da

Each of the contestants were turning around one after the other. Rachel quickly made eye contact and smiled. Finn turned and stepped forward.

Finn:

Just a small town girl

Living in a lonely world

She took the midnight train going anywhere

Rachel smiled, nodding to affirm that he was in the right place, and she walked over to him, singing her part confidently.

Rachel:

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train going anywhere

Sam:

A singer in a smoky room

Quinn:

A smell of wine and cheap perfume

Sebastian and Santana:

For a smile they can share the night

It goes on and on and on and on

Santana watched Sebastian. He had been so quiet and reserved. , which wasn't like him at all. Sue was right. He was up to no good. She eyed him suspiciously.

Jake and Marley:

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searching in the night

Jake took Marley’s hand and spun her effortlessly. Ryder didn’t miss how Jake’s hand slid slowly across her body or the way that Marley gasped when he did it. He didn’t miss the way Jake stared at her as she sang, or the way she gazed at him as he danced. He knew that he was missing steps as he watched the pair flirt relentlessly. He had to get his head back in the game.

All contestants

Streetlight

People

Living just to find emotion

Hiding somewhere in the night

Kurt:

Workin' hard to get my fill

Everybody wants a thrill

Blaine loved that they had a part together. He walked over to Kurt and took his hand and they did the basic steps and sang their lines.

Kurt and Blaine:

Payin' anything to roll the dice

Just one more time

Tina and Quinn:

Some will win

Ryder and Kitty:

Some will lose

Some are born to sing the blues

Kitty didn’t miss how Ryder stared intensely at Marley and Jake as they continued to dance together. He was totally jealous of Jake. Because Jake was sleeping with Marley. He had to be. There used to be all this awkward tension between them and it was all gone. Marley looked completely at ease. And completely head over heels. Ugh! It made Kitty want to hurl. As she watched them, a plan started spinning around in her head. She could use this.

Artie and Mercedes:

Oh, the movie never ends

It goes on and on and on and on

All Contestants

Strangers waiting

Up and down the boulevard

Their shadows

Searching in the night

Streetlight

People

Living just to find emotion

Hiding somewhere in the night

Mercedes:

Don't stop!

“Actually, please stop! Finn, this is walking and fist pumps. What are you going to do when there’s real choreography? Where’s the art in that?” yelled Sue into a megaphone.

“I’m sorry. This is just harder than I thought, remembering the steps and all the lyrics, and everything.”

“You think that’s hard. Try being waterboarded. Now, that’s hard!” Sue screeched. “The show is tonight. Buttchin. You were supposed to have him ready by now.”

“He’s been great in practice. But you guys aren’t helping by yelling at him.” Mr. Shuester defended. “Finn, we can go over it again if you’d like. Do you have a little time?”

“I need to rehearse with Kurt.” Finn answered.

“I think we got it last night, Finn. We’re ready,” Kurt smiled.

“Well, ok,” Finn replied. “Great. Well, then, we can rehearse some more, Mr. Shu.”

“Thank goodness. Maybe, this premiere will suck less if he can get you walking in a straight line. What is everyone just standing around for! Don't you all have rehearsal! Beat it!" Sue yelled in the megaphone. "Beiste, where are the stagehands? The sign is in the wrong spot! And where is the cannon? That little curly haired guy with the glasses signed the waiver. Where is it?”

“Figgins canceled it. Something about one of the legal advisors warning him against it. The Asian one.”

“Which Asian one? There’s a whole lot of yellow number 5 on this show. At least they can’t scream that I’m not representing minorities. Between the cripple, the gays, the Jews, the Latina, and the idiots, I’d say we are well represented.”

“Montgomery, from the legal department. I agree though. I saw that thing. It didn’t look safe.”

“What do you know about safety?” Sue sneered.

“Uh, body guard,” Shannon replied, matter of factly. Safety’s my job.”

“Well, making this show number one is my job, and what we have isn’t enough. There’s no fire, no stilts, no acrobatics. Just a bunch of twenty somethings that should be holding an actual job and contributing to society, although I doubt that some of them would be able to remember the script that the person that runs the drive through at Wendy’s has to recite,” she huffed.

“Well, I don’t know much about the singing business, but I think the kids are pretty talented.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You don’t know much. Where are those guys? Time's a wastin’ We need that sign fixed now before it crashes down on one of the band members.” Sue scrunched her chin. “Although, that might draw a bigger interest.”

“Sue, no cannons, no explosions, no falling signs,” Figgins called behind her.

“Damn! How long was he standing there?”

Shannon laughed.

“Oh, shut up. Get those guys to fix that sign or drop it on Figgins.”

“Can’t do that cause actually I’m his employee. He hired me, not you. Can’t kill the boss.”

“I didn’t say kill. We already have a cripple on the show. We could give him some company.”

“Uh, Sue, should I call the nurse, Ms. Penny. You’re startin’ to sound a little cuckoo.”

“Just fix the sign,” Sue yelled.

“Dave!” Beiste yelled. “You and Adams need to fix that sign. Sue said it’s in the wrong place.”

“We put it where you told us, boss,” Azimo answered.

“I said between the lights, nimrods.”

“Which lights?” Azimo questioned.

“The two big ones.” Shannon answered.

“Oh, well, then that actually makes sense,” Karofsky answered. “Come on Z! Let’s get it done.”

________________________________________________________________

“Kurt, that’s absolutely perfect,” Blaine praised, as the brunette’s fingers caressed the keys with grace as he sang along.

Suddenly, Kurt’s whole body began shaking, his words frozen on his lips.

“Kurt! Are you ok. Kurt!” Blaine rushed to his side, bending down directly in front of boy that was even paler than usual. “Sam! Mr Shuester! Somebody go get the nurse!”

Blaine wrapped his arms tightly around the boy in front of him, calmly whispering in his ear. “Sh, Kurt. What’s wrong?”

“Blaine, is he ok?” Jeff called, rushing over, Nick and Elliott following right behind him.

“I’m not sure. He hasn’t said anything. He just froze on me.”

“Gayface nervous? Maybe we could help. An ice water or a slushie would be even better,” a heavy African American boy jeered.

“Yeah, Z, that always seemed to get him movin’ in school,” the other boy laughed.

“Yeah, Dave. Let’s see if we could round one of ‘em up, for old time’s sake,” Azimo laughed high fiving the other boy.

“Wait, I’ve seen that guy before. At the karaoke bar,” Elliott blurted. “That was the guy that tried to dance with Kurt. It’s the reason I kissed him.”

“You kissed Kurt,” Jeff asked?” Nick made eye contact with the blonde as if to say ‘now isn't the time.’ “Nevermind,” he said quickly. “What just happened?”

“Karofsky,” Kurt mumbled.

“That was him. The guy that bullied you in school. Wait didn’t you say that he threatened you?” Elliott questioned.

“He threatened you,” Blaine asked. “Threatened to what?”

“In school. He threatened to kill me.”

Blaine didn’t wait for another word. He bolted in the direction he saw the two stage hands walk in. “Blaine, wait, Don’t!” Nick shouted. “Elliott, stay with Kurt. Jeff, go get security right now!

______________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: To be continued….

#klaine fanfiction

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