#like i said im back on my bullshit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luminitewrites · 2 years

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Gratis

Here with yet another silly drabble inspired by @naffeclipse's Sleuth Jesters series 🔍

Honestly, this idea has been rattling around in my brain for a solid month now, and as soon as I heard that Breathe Bubbles Below has drowning in it (which I still have yet to read *sobs*), I figured I needed to finally get this idea out of my head and onto virtual paper. Shorter drabble this time around! This was extremely hastily edited, so please forgive any errors! Rating: T Word Count: ~6K Content Warnings: Attempted murder, near-drowning, shootout, death, possessive/obsessive behavior, probably a gratuitous amount of ooc-ness

Set sometime before No Small Favor, but if we're to take into account this lovely drabble by Naff, then this is set not terribly long after it. Enjoy!

As far as most Friday nights go, this is not what you’d had in mind. In fact, you are in a bit of a pickle, and the situation is only getting bleaker.

The springtime air has done little to wash away the chill left by winter, and you tremble uncontrollably in the dark twilight. The river that often shines with a peaceful glow now offers a more sinister beauty. You stand in the middle of the stone bridge that connects the city over the river, and your current company has left you significantly wanting.

Your pins are almost all but gone save for the three stashed in the waistline of your pants. But reaching them is becoming a growing problem as the chains clasped around your wrists and ankles prevent little if any movement. The metal at your ankles links to a pair of shiny new cement shoes—concrete blocks on either side of your feet. You think you might be whittling down your chances of survival this time.

“Fellas,” you say with a chuckle that matches your weak grin. You twist your wrists as much as you can in your bonds behind your back, trying to stretch your fingers just far enough so that you can reach a pin. “This seems a little excessive for a nighttime swim, don’t you think?”

The gangsters gripping your arms spare you not a word, but their glares dig into your bones. You huff and sigh at the lack of a response.

Leonard, or Lead Lenny, as the mob boss prefers much to your hysterical amusement, stares you down with the high beams of a car shining behind him and a few of his cronies standing on either side. There’s more of them behind you, as if to make sure you don’t make a run for it—again.

Considering this is their attempt to send you on your merry way to your demise, you’re flattered. They even brought out the big guns.

“And really, did you go to all this trouble just for me? That’s so sweet,” you coo.

Lenny sneers at you, his lips curling up in a terrible slope that bares his teeth. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his pants like this is just another casual evening. It’s a stark contrast to the tense positions his men take, and you feel the ones grabbing you twist your arms just a little harder. You stifle a wince but grit your teeth.

“This is where it ends, vigilante,” Lenny drones. “No more tricks. No more funny business. Just you and a nice little date… with the city’s finest water source.” He tips his head at the river.

You follow his gaze to the gently flowing water that is anything but fine or drinkable. Assuming an unimpressed frown, you turn back to him. The lack of a reaction makes the mob boss’ crooked smile dissolve into a snarl.

Sighing, you shake your head. The bells in your ponytail chime tauntingly. “I do appreciate the effort,” you commend sagely. “The whole ‘swimming with the fishes’ fits your modus operandi perfectly. But I have to say I’d imagined that I’d at least be worth a gunfight. Maybe some knife to knife action. This is a little disappointing.”

Lenny regards you frostily. You can sense the prickling anxiousness in his gang the longer this drags on. Clearly, you’ve made enemies of quite a few of them. The ones surrounding the mob boss flirt with the triggers on their guns like they’re just dying to take a crack at you. Maybe if you rile them up enough, you can spin this in your favor after all.

But it’s not looking like things are going your way when Lenny sighs dramatically and tilts his head up at the night sky. “You don’t get it, vigilante. I’m not willing to waste my breath on you. Doesn’t matter how many pretty words you say or how many wanted posters are put up for your head.” His chin tips back down, his fedora casting his face in shadow, and the feeling of uncertain dread crawls its way up your spine. “I’m not playing any more games. You messed with the wrong crowd, honey, and this time, I ain’t keen on letting you go.”

“Sounds like a bad case of separation anxiety,” you quip while scanning for some way to get yourself out of this mess.

You really should have told the detectives where you were going. But if they’d been in the know, they would have absolutely done everything to stop you from terrorizing another one of the city’s pesky mobs, and you just can’t abide by that.

Time is up now. Lenny doesn’t bother continuing the conversation. Turns out he is someone who sticks to his word, and like a deadly promise, he nods in a way that is a universal sign for tossing someone over. You do your best to drop your full weight and make it harder to lift your body, to the point that it takes more than the two goons already holding you to lift both you and the heavy cement blocks you’re chained to. You thrash as you’re carried over to the bridge’s edge. You land a solid kick in the cheek of one gangster, but another is quick to wrestle the limb back into submission.

Your resistance, while furious and as stubborn as the rest of you, leads to nowhere you want to go. It takes no time at all for them to hoist you up until you’re hanging precariously over the edge, the water far below, and your eyes wildly dart around for some escape. Anything to keep you from falling to a terrible fate.

And like a blessing in disguise, that's when you hear it. A tinny whine that's been drifting in the distance but steadily increasing in volume. Your head whips to the side as it grows tenfold until with a ferocious cacophony of lights and sound, tires of multiple black cars squeal into swift arrival. From either end of the bridge, they cut off entry and escape. A rush of humans and animatronics alike burst forth, guns drawn. They appear from nowhere, scampering about and forming an impenetrable series of lines that all pinpoint Lenny’s gang as targets.

“Put your weapons down!” demands a voice from the makeshift blockade.

As you watch in muted wonder and bewilderment, you quickly notice one common factor in the newcomers. Every single one of them—from those nearest Lenny’s gang to the ones even further back with submachine guns—wears similar monochromatic attire. A dark shock of crimson that is as blatant as a neon sign in tying them all to one specific mob.

You nearly slump in place. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. This is not what you’d imagined when you’d been banking on some kind of rescue—earthly or otherwise. And this is definitely on a steep slope toward something hellish.

Lenny and his gang are frozen in place, shocked by the new arrivals that vastly outnumber their own. They’re completely surrounded.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lenny barks. “Who are you?”

A warning shot is fired in the air. The crooks still holding your life in the balance flinch, and you suck air in through your teeth. This is not helping you in any way at all. You sorely hope that if Eclipse ends up playing an unintentional role in your death, he’ll recognize just how poorly his plan failed. While small, it’d be some consolation to ease you into your passing.

“Last chance!” the voice of the threatening mobster shouts. “Drop your weapons or you’ll taste lead!”

Oh, how cute. Taste lead. Lead Lenny. Funny. Hilarious. Sounds like someone is missing their calling to do stand-up. You’re going to strangle them if you ever get the chance. The grip on you is slipping, and the others’ arms are trembling from the immense weight tied to you. Clock’s ticking.

Lenny, it seems, has no sense of self-preservation. He keeps his gun leveled at those behind the nearest car but doesn’t shoot yet. Furious, he shouts back, “I’m calling the shots here! Now answer me! Who do you work for?”

Not too far away, you hear the slam of a car door.

“Don’t kick the hive, Leonard,” you call out quietly but loud enough for the mob boss to hear you. His glare shifts to you and then to those of his gang preventing you from falling.

Oh. Your face blanches.

Before Lenny can give the order however, someone beats him to the punch.

“Drop them!” another desperado from the blockade yells, much to your total gobsmacked horror.

The gangsters holding you exchange a glance. Behind them, you can hear Lenny don an amused smirk through just a single word.

“Okay.”

You gasp. “No, don’t—“

Too late. You’re let go from the only hands securing you to safety, and with a breathless yelp, you’re hurtling sharply to the river below.

The weight around your ankles means you enter the icy water feet first, which at least saves you from a nasty impact on your back or head. But all too soon, any relief is gone as you sink like a stone straight to the bottom. The river isn’t terribly deep, but it’s enough that the surface dangles terribly about ten feet over your head. The temperature is so cold that your body is thrown into shock instantaneously. Working through that robs you of fleeting seconds you can’t spare, but you force your steel limbs to move and turn your attention to the chains securing your hands behind your back as fast as you can.

Your chest already is starting to ache as panic and lack of air create a frantic urgency to get free of your bonds. Distantly, you hear what sounds like gunfire, but it could just be the roar in your ears as the need for oxygen soars.

Your fingers slip along the cuffs, trying to find purchase to no avail. There’s no give, nothing to suggest you can tug yourself free. It’s impossible to move even an inch while the concrete is stuck to the chains securing your feet. Your ankles burn as they scrape against the metal, finding no slack there either.

You fumble for a pin at the hem of your pants, and it drops from your fingers while you’re tugging it free. Internally, you give a vicious curse but reach for another pin. This one you manage to slip into one of the cuffs on your wrist, but you just can’t get the angle right. Within seconds, it also flies from your grip.

A burst of bubbles spills from your mouth, and you fiercely seal your lips shut again to try to preserve the precious air. Your eyes burn as a heavy darkness loops around you, circling in. Your movements turn even sloppier, and when your last pin snaps in half in your fervor, crushing despair descends on you.

You have no way out. There’s nothing you can do.

The water whirls around your freezing skin abruptly as something jumps in, but the source of the disturbance is behind you. You give a final struggle against the chains with the same results.

A metal hand suddenly seizes your shoulder and with great strength, it yanks you back. The violent motion tears at your muscles, and you scream as you are merely dragged a few feet, the concrete mercilessly digging into the riverbed. Immediately, water rushes into your mouth, and you gag and sputter, but it invades your lungs, stealing the last dregs of air.

The hand on your shoulder releases you, and you sink once more. But mere moments later, you feel that same hand grab your ankles. There’s a sharp pain as metal and concrete are torn apart, scratching your skin. Then, your arms are grabbed, and you’re sped upward by powerful kicks, the cement shoes stripped away.

As soon as you breach the surface, you inhale only to be cut off right away by sharp hacking as your lungs burn with the water inside. You cough and gag and try to find air that simply won’t come in. All the while, the hands gripping you don’t let go, and you feel yourself dragged over until you reach the muddy riverbank.

An arm winds under your stomach as tight as a snake, bending you over, and then another hand begins to slap your back. You expel a mouthful of river water right away, and it falls onto the soggy grass, only to be joined by another bout. The rough hits to your back force you to eject everything blocking your airways, and when the last of it is finally out, you shudder and take your first relieving gasp.

“Breathe,” comes the stern command above you, and you obey unquestionably.

It feels wonderful and terrible all at once. Your chest feels like it’s on fire, and while the life-giving oxygen restores your weakened body, it also heightens the awful sting in your throat. You take in shaky, uneven breaths that make you tremble all over. Or maybe that’s the chill of the river still clinging to your skin. You don’t really care because you feel oddly hot all over and your head is lighter than a feather.

At least the harsh beating against your spine has stopped. You think you might have some bruises to look forward to later.

Your rescuer places two cold fingers to your neck, lingering there for a long minute in the aftermath. You’re not sure why they bother because you’re clearly breathing now, but maybe it’s just the reassurance they need.

Apparently satisfied with the state of your heart, they then reach for the cuffs around your wrists. You’re confused because surely the keys couldn’t have been found that quickly. But to your bright burst of surprise, they pinch the metal between their fingers until it abruptly snaps, freeing your hands.

You’re reeling from it, from everything that’s unfolded, and your hands fly in front of you as if afraid you’ll fall. The arm around your waist doesn’t let go in the slightest. Uncomfortable, you squirm in the hold, and you’re clutched even closer for a brief second. A sort of whispery exhale sings behind you, riddled with emotion.

You grow still as you get an uneasy suspicion of who your rescuer is.

A large hand slides up the side of your head, messing your drenched hair further, and then presses your skull back against the cold sheen of metal teeth. You’re very still aside from your shivering, and you glance around for an exit strategy.

Releasing another uncomfortably heady, electric breath as if he was the one drowning, Eclipse at last relinquishes his harsh grip just enough to twist you around to face him. You stand on trembling legs while he kneels in the mud. The second you brush his hands off you, your knees buckle without the support. Eclipse is quick to catch you, and the black pits of his optics flash like a gunshot.

While he assesses your form resembling a soaking mess, you do the same to him.

It’s odd to see the mafia boss without his long coat. Water runs freely from his indigo and purple sun rays down to his chest. His maroon shirt clings to him like wet paper, making his slender arms even thinner, his sleeves a wrinkled mess. His collar wraps around his neck like a cinch, and as you stare, Eclipse reaches up and undoes the first three buttons.

You hastily look away, not at all interested in watching him expose even more of his chassis. It’s already unusual enough seeing him unkempt like this. He looks like he jumped right into the water without a second thought.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you consider a scary prospect. With Eclipse pulling you free from a rather unpleasant end, you are now in his debt.

The thought chills you far worse than the river.

Standing before him like this, you have nothing you can hide, everything exposed. You tug at your shirt for modesty’s sake, but there’s little to be had of it with your clothes thoroughly ruined. Your white shirt won’t ever get the questionable stains out of it now.

“Look at me,” Eclipse murmurs, breaking the unsettling quiet.

Mulish, you peruse the river instead. Rescued or not, you do not answer to Eclipse, and you aren’t his pet who can be ordered around.

That doesn’t seem to agree with him, however, because a growl emits from his voice box, and icy fingers clench around your jaw. He forces you to turn back to him, squeezing just enough to be on the verge of uncomfortable. As soon as you’re unwillingly meeting his gaze again, his thumb shifts from your face to your throat, where it rests against your pulse once more. You don’t like how vulnerable that makes you feel.

Eclipse is in no hurry to move, it seems. He studies you like he’s not entirely sure you’re there. Words pose a greater challenge than normal. Before you can try to sweet-talk your way out of this one, a rather brutal shiver wrenches your whole body. You become aware of your chattering teeth. Your knees feel like they could go out at any second again. It’s a miracle they haven’t already, even with the additional support.

Maybe that’s what sets the mob boss into action. Without turning to his henchmen, he calls out, “Bring me a hand towel, as well as my coat.”

You watch a couple of goons spring into action. They disappear into one of the cars parked further away and then return with the items Eclipse demanded. The one with the towel passes it to him, but he briefly holds up a hand to the other carrying his coat, shooting them a short glance.

“Thank you, Marta, Perry. Wait there.”

You snort at the exaggerated politeness. The goons glower at you, but Eclipse pays them no more mind. He lifts the hand towel, which looks incredibly small between his fingers, and in a flash winds it behind your head.

You startle sharply, but your hands fly up to fight back. You hiss as Eclipse begins to rub the plush fabric vigorously along your dripping hair and skull. Your hands catch on his shirt cuffs as you blindly retaliate, but all that garners is an amused chuff.

“Stop resisting,” he rumbles, swiftly wiping your face. As if that is a perfectly okay thing for him to do.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap back once you’re in no danger of getting a mouthful of towel.

Eclipse’s grasp returns to your hair as he twists and rings it. You silently gasp at a particularly harsh yank. Eyes watering, you instinctively reach up to shake off the offending grip, but you might as well be fighting a wall.

“Your body is in shock,” the crime lord says calmly in complete conflict with his coarse treatment. “And you are wearing sodden clothes in forty-degree weather. You need to keep your head warm.”

You’re seething, a piping hot, angry mess, and you think you hear some other nearby chortling as well. Images of putting a bullet in his head flash through your thoughts, and you deeply wish your gun hadn’t been lost to Lenny’s gang. You probably won’t be getting that back, wherever they ditched it, and it wasn’t your favorite, but what you wouldn’t give to have it in your hand now. Your fingers twitch and dig into Eclipse’s wrists. The metal proves to be resilient and doesn’t so much as creak under your bruising hands.

Since there is no other readily available option, you resign yourself to enduring the rough treatment upon your head. Your hair pulls at and stings your scalp. The bells continue to furiously ring with the way Eclipse assaults your hair, but luckily, they don’t fall out. After another drawn-out minute of torture, the coarse handling finally comes to a stop. You blink and brush away loose strands of hair as the hand towel is pulled free. Your smile is nothing short of enraged, teeth clenched tight enough to make your jaw ache.

Eclipse’s optics change to yellow, and his black pupils dance with mirth.

“There you are,” he croons.

You would slap him if it’d actually hurt him and not you.

His golden eyes flare with satisfaction, but his attention focuses on your hair, and you hasten to fix the rat’s nest he no doubt made of your ponytail. The snickering in the background increases a notch.

“Getting rather handsy early on, aren’t you?” you simper through your tight grin.

Eclipse does not hold back a chuckle, but he does offer you the towel, to your befuddlement. As you pat down your knotted hair, you frown, distrustful and confused.

The fine points of his teeth gleam in the moonlight. “If you prefer, I can dry the rest of you off in the same way.”

Scowling, you snatch it from him. You waver a bit from not holding onto him, but Eclipse’s hands find purchase on your hips, much to your chagrin. Trying to hide just how much discomfort it causes, you begin to pat yourself dry. The towel soaks some of the water that’s seeped into your clothes, but it doesn’t remove the dampness. You feel awkward under such heavy scrutiny, and you don’t even bother drying your lower half. You’re not in the mood to put on a show for Eclipse’s ravenous leer.

Once you’re done, you cock an eyebrow impatiently. Eclipse calls to one of the awaiting mobsters, and she steps forward, fingers outstretched to take back the towel. You stare at her calmly, reach out your arm to the side, and drop the towel in the mud. The woman openly chokes down her ire as she stomps over and picks up the dirtied fabric, but your small act of defiance doesn’t irritate the animatronic like you’d been hoping. His eyes flash at the challenge. When he holds out a hand, still maintaining eye contact with you as his other hand continues to span your hip and much of your waist, the gangster clutching Eclipse’s coat sets it in his palm.

You look from the coat to Eclipse. His intent glints in his anticipatory grin.

“I’m not wearing that,” you say, deadpan.

Eclipse’s rays tilt to one side. “Sweetheart, you know I adore this spitfire side of yours. But do you really believe now is a good time to resist me?”

His tone is light, but you can read between the lines. The patience he offers on your behalf is rare, but not never-ending. If you keep pushing, you will eventually find his limit. And though the idea does give you satisfaction—to see him fracture under his inability to control you—the reality is you are outnumbered. In fact, as you cast a quick scan over the bridge, you can see only members of Eclipse’s gang standing at the ready. Lenny and his gang did not survive the night, it appears.

You hate this. This feeling of not having a choice, of being trapped. Of being incapacitated while the effects of almost losing your life are still fresh and eating away at your health. You feel feverish, burning up and freezing cold at the same time. Your eyes fall back to Eclipse’s coat and then to him. The reflection of your anger is visible in his glowing optics.

With the speed born of your bloody past, your hand snaps forward to grab the coat. You manage to grasp a fistful of the material before a much larger hand snatches your wrist. Tossing on a hastily concocted blank mask, you hide your reaction to the needle-like pain. Eclipse leans in.

“Allow me.”

He’s not asking.

You blow out a very steady breath through your nose. The pressure doesn’t intensify, but Eclipse doesn’t let go either. He waits for you to make your choice.

You think of your detectives. You imagine they’re probably settling in for the night to enjoy their day off tomorrow. They might even be sparing you a passing thought, wondering what you’re up to tonight. If you’re staying out of trouble.

You should pay them a visit. But you won’t be able to do that while Eclipse’s full attention is on you, daring you to give him a reason to steal you away.

Slowly, reluctantly, you let go of the coat. Eclipse holds you a moment more, but his optics stay that same yellow, pinpricks of ink steadfast on your every move. He’s pleased. Significantly so.

As soon as he releases your wrist, you tug your arm back to your side. You don’t rub at the ache there, but your fingers curl until your nails stab into your palms. Smug is a terrible look for the mob boss, and you’d love to punch him hard enough to make his faceplate spin. If you ever get your way, you’ll make sure he gets a nice introduction to your fist.

Satisfied by your silent acceptance, Eclipse shakes out his coat. He then reaches around and, with disturbing gentleness, drapes the bulky material over your shoulders.

The way it hangs off of you is outrageously laughable. The lapels bunch up under your chin, and the empty sleeves dangle all the way down to calves. It’s so long that nearly half of the coat folds over itself on the ground behind you like a cape. Though you feel nothing like royalty wearing this. The insides are lined with the softest silk, and you can’t deny just how warm you turn within seconds. Your body latches onto the heat, and before you can even think, your hands have already clasped the edges of the coat and tugged it closed.

It’s for survival, you necessarily tell yourself. A means to an end. You can’t get out of here if you’re also fighting off your own bodily needs.

Eclipse’s broad hands adjust the collar to better frame your neck. He tucks your damp hair inside and pushes up the collar high enough to firmly bracket the back of your skull. His long fingers brush against your skin in what is no accident, but you bite your tongue. You’ll find a way to beat him at this game. You just need to bide your time.

He takes an unmerited minute to appraise you and your new attire. His rays draw the moon’s gaze as they cut rapidly to the left. You resist a shudder unrelated to the cold under the rings of black that flick up and down your form.

Disgust festers in your gut. Curling your lip in disdain, you say, “If this is your way of making me indebted to you, you have another thing coming, angel eyes.”

Fabric strains under his hands and tightens around your throat. You hold your breath, anxious if this is his tipping point. Eclipse’s bright optics change to dark pits that match the night sky. You’re pressing your luck, but regardless of whether it’s unfortunate for you or him, you’ve never known when to stop.

Something changes in his expression. You’re not sure what it is, but it sends warnings bells blaring in your head.

“Consider this a simple signing bonus for accepting my offer,” he says. Incrementally, his hands loosen around the material, and he smoothes it back in place.

You can’t help but let out a dry, sarcastic laugh at that, which quickly turns into an actual cough, your aggravated lungs not liking the sensation. You tilt your head and expel any germs and river bacteria right into his expensive coat. If he’s going to make you wear it, you might as well use it like intended—just to make sure he knows what exactly you think of his “kindness.”

When your chest is done trying to become concave, you breathe deeply and smile.

“Sorry,” you croak, “but I don’t think I care all too much for agreeing to any deals tonight. So I guess you’ll be wanting this back.”

In response, Eclipse drawls your name, bordering on sweet and saturated with impatience. Your coyness garners a sharpness to his faceplate that hides in the edges of his teeth.

“You just had a close call, so I will excuse your insubordination as a lingering effect of that.” His glowing optics promise retribution. “For now.”

You scoff. “Appreciate the gesture, but I can still think perfectly fine, thanks.”

Eclipse grins thinly at that. He considers you for another unpleasant beat, no doubt noting your dwindling shivers and the quietened chatter of your teeth. He examines you like how one might look at a fascinating piece of artwork or a car crash. Mildly entertained.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs, and you know he’s not just referring to what you said.

Unwillingly, you glance at the river that appears so gentle from here. Just out of sight are the cement blocks that would have spelled your death tonight. The scratches around your ankles respond with a flare of pain, as does the still throbbing muscles in your shoulder where you were grabbed.

A single finger presses to your jaw and tilts your head back to him.

“Keep it,” he says, giving you a drawn-out, suggestive once-over that plainly relishes the sight of you in his coat. “As a reminder. I won’t hold tonight over you if you abide by my very simple and generous terms.”

He leans in closer, his height still towering over you despite him kneeling in the mud. His grin glistens hungrily. “Consider this charitable act directly swayed by how good you look in my clothes. But don’t think I won’t be paying you another visit.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you fire back, rage in your eyes and voice. “I think you’ll look much better staring down the barrel of my pistol.”

Eclipse’s smile is not pretty. It reminds you of the deadly quiet before a storm. The single match before a roaring flame. Just like last time, he is letting you go on his own terms.

In a smooth motion, he rises to his feet. His pants from his knees to his ankles are caked in grass and mud. Besides a minor dusting off, he doesn’t seem concerned with fixing the mess. You have to wonder if he considers it worth it for you.

Yet another point toward his unnerving obsession. You’re not sure what to make of it or what you’ve done to deserve his unholy, transfixed attention.

“I’m afraid this is where we’ll have to part ways,” Eclipse says, watching you keenly as he unbuttons the wet cuffs of his shirt and folds back the sleeves. “I would invite you to share a lovely glass of wine and some conversation with me. However, your runaround with Lead Lenny’s mafia caught me at a rather unfortunate time in the middle of my business. Try to stay out of further trouble tonight, won’t you? I’d hate for you to catch a cold.”

“Why, angel eyes,” you lilt, voice cutting like a serrated blade, “you make it sound like you have any control over me at all. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that I do not and will not ever work under you.”

Eclipse’s hands snag the front of his coat wrapped around you, and you stiffen as he slips a cold, metal appendage inside. You grab his arm in staggering alarm, but all he does is slip his fingers into one of the inside pockets and remove its contents. When he pulls his hand back out, you see a glint of a gold cigar case and a lighter. You shove his arm back, but you get the impression he is only letting you, his grin smarmy and making you feel dirtier than the river water still dripping down your back. The mob boss removes the cigar and lights it. His eyes burn like the glowing ember as he slips the case and lighter into his pants pocket.

“Think about my offer,” he murmurs.

You glare hatefully at his back as he walks away, leaving you on the riverbank. He signals to his gang, and they all file back into their cars, guns withdrawn. In the distance, police sirens wail. The corpses of Lenny’s gang litter the bridge, and you know you won’t want to be present when the cops decide to arrive, late as usual.

Blacks cars peel away into the night. The crime lord himself stops at his car door, turning to capture you with a last lascivious glance. You heavily consider throwing his coat into the river right then, but you wouldn’t put it past Eclipse to use that as an excuse to place you in his debt and forfeit his supposed charity.

His grin stretches to his eyes. Black pupils shine malevolently.

Then he disappears into his car, the door slamming shut behind him, and the vehicle vanishes under the cover of darkness as the driver speeds away. The stillness of night descends once more, pierced only by the approaching sirens. The police will arrive at a gruesome scene with you long gone as you at last take your leave and hurry down a nearby alley.

Eclipse’s coat weighs on you even heavier than the concrete blocks had. You bite your aching desire to wrench it off your body for the time being. It’s slowing you down, but it is also fighting back the sheets of cold that still threaten to freeze your paling skin.

Get closer to a safe house first. Then you can rid yourself of his touch and the suffocating smell of cigar smoke.

Hurrying down the streets of the city, you narrowly dodge zooming cop cars and suspicious suits loitering about in the late hour. Your chests constricts with each icy breath, and your throat ignites with a dryness that steals what little air you swallow. You will be incredibly lucky if you don’t happen to get sick from this, borrowed coat or not. There’s no telling how much of the river you inhaled, but you’ve got the impression that letting even the tiniest bit get in your lungs isn’t good.

An idea comes to mind. You cozying up on the couch in the apartment of your favorite detectives while maybe enjoying the company of one or both if you’re lucky. They’d warm you right up, no questions asked.

Well, you quickly amend, maybe some questions. Actually a lot of questions, given their inquisitive nature and disapproval of any shenanigans you get up to. At least this time you could honestly say this wasn’t a situation you went looking for. Lenny’s gang dug themselves up and were the ones to upset your evening. Admittedly, this was right after you’d shot up the warehouse they were meeting in, but those are two completely unrelated factors. Next time, you’ll just make sure to bring more ammo when you infiltrate a mob’s shady dealings.

As you round the corner of another alley, a mere few streets from your safe house near the capital, you spy a metal waste bin alight with a fire. You peer inside and find garbage being incinerated, likely in preparation for the ashes to be carted off by the city’s waste management system.

You grin to yourself. Perfect.

Hastily, you shed Eclipse’s thick coat. With one grand flourish, you set it inside the bin, right along with the rest of the garbage. Exactly where it belongs.

You see it slowly catch fire and watch in satisfaction as orange and gold flames lick at the expensive material. You’re under no false impression that Eclipse doesn’t have another coat readily available to replace this one, but at least this way, you can ruin one thing of his. One small act of defiance at a time. You’d like to see him react to your use of his gift.

A snort slips past you. If he thinks giving you this will in any way lure you into accepting his deal, he has a mighty fine surprise heading his way in the form of a bullet to his chassis. Every criminal has a weakness. You’ll unearth Eclipse’s and take down his gang too.

In the meantime, you take a few private moments to enjoy the simple warmth of his coat succumbing to the flames and then continue on your way. You’re shivering again with nothing to prevent your damp clothes from attracting the cold. But this time, you have a smile on your face and a small spring in your step. You know whose gang you’ll focus your attention on next. And you’ll make Eclipse wish he’d left you at the bottom of the river instead of saving your life and giving you the one driving force you need to pursue his own demise.

Spite.

~~~

Gratis Behind the Scenes:

Goon #042: Sir, the vigilante was seen being held at gunpoint and carried away by a different mob. Eclipse: gdi, not again

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Lenny: Throw the vigilante into the river! Lenny two seconds later: Why do I hear boss music playing

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Y/N: My vigilante senses are tingling Y/N after being rescued by Eclipse: Oh please no, anyone but you

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What Eclipse told Y/N: Your runaround with Lead Lenny’s mafia caught me at a rather unfortunate time in the middle of my business What Eclipse actually meant: I left in the middle of a high-stakes poker game to come get you and I’m feeling a little unloved and unappreciated rn :/

#eclipse x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters fanfic #sleuth jesters au #detective au #fnaf sb #im back on my bullshit #not me side-eyeing this drabble and immediately thinking about a sick fic follow-up #i thought it would be funny if eclipse said he was being charitable here #and then in No Small Favor he's like #'actually i've changed my mind and that's character development'#writing tag

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