#not booker friendly I guess
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Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.
I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?
Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine. According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire. According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset. That’s the level of news you’d expect.
The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.
The first question is about the show’s angle. Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:
So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control.
And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway.
Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.
Fun! This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.
Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.
Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.
And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).
You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times.
You can see this with an act like Gervais.
Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.
The journalist finally addresses this head on. It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:
But here are my favourite bits:
[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing.
There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil.
In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes.
He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time.
And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward.
[...]
If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs.
It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked.
But he didn’t have that experience in the same way.
[...]
Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them.
I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me.
I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird.
On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary.
And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.
This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material. He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).
It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material. That’s a big taboo. I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.
Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:
It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review.
And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right.
Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.
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Domestic!Booker Dewitt HCs
CW: mentions of sex, mentions of fighting, doesn’t follow the Bioshock timeline, not much else.
I disappeared for a few months cause I graduated high school and it’s off to college for me 🔥🔥. Anyway enjoy.
»»————- ★ ————-««
» Meeting Booker:
You were a very headstrong individual, which was why you never listened to anyone who told you that walking home alone was very dangerous. Your stubbornness put you in a terrible situation: being mugged.
It all happened so fast, your wallet was snatched right out of your hand, the culprit sprinting down the street, knocking you on your feet with a hard shove. You fell to the ground with a yelp.
A commotion was heard, some yelling, the sound of a second pair of footsteps running past you, and then more yelling. By the time you got up and steadied yourself, a different man was approaching you with your wallet in his hand.
“Are you alright, miss?” The voice belonged to a taller gentlemen with a scruffy beard and dark eyes. He gave you a glance over, but his voice was surprisingly calm. He handed your wallet back and turned to leave once you assured you were unharmed.
You stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, “hey, you didn’t tell me your name.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him in curiosity. He seemed hesitant to give you his name.
“Booker…uh Dewitt—Booker Dewitt.” He said, his voice laced with hesitation. You introduced yourself and gave a friendly smile. “Well Mr. Dewitt, let me thank you for getting my wallet back…could I buy you some dinner some time as a thanks? Maybe a coffee?”
The two of you stood there for a good five minutes, arguing back and forth as he insisted that repayment wasn’t necessary, that he was “just doing a good deed.”
But like I said earlier, you were very headstrong, so ultimately, you won that argument.
Coffee turned into drinks, drinks turned into dinner, and dinner turned into dates around the city.
» Intimacy:
You soon learned that he was a very closed off person, since the day you two met for coffee he never talked about himself. Sometimes you’d get little pieces of information here and there, but you guessed he had a good reason for being so closed off all the time.
Once, the two of you were sitting on the couch watching a movie, about a foot apart, when you noticed his hand slowly moving closer and closer to yours. His eyes were glued to the tv, and it was obvious he was trying to be subtle about it. You just smiled to yourself once you finally felt his hand holding yours, his grip very light and hesitant, as if he was waiting for you to reject him. But you just sat there with your eyes glued to the tv, a stupid smile on your face, as you let him hold your hand.
The first time you kissed it was extremely awkward. It was your birthday, and he arrived at your doorstep with a single flower and a bottle of wine. The two of you drank, and then suddenly he leaned in and kissed you. It was quick and his lips barely touched yours before he pulled away, but it was definitely a kiss.
Sometimes he’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention. It didn’t matter what you were doing; watching tv, cooking, cleaning, drawing, yawning, etc., he would always look at you. He couldn’t help but admire your beauty…and he felt as if he didn’t deserve someone who was as amazing and gorgeous as you were, but he never voiced his insecurities.
He’s not one for deep conversations. He’ll quickly change the subject if you ask about his past, and when he sees you get visibly frustrated with his emotional barriers, he’ll reassure you that he’ll tell you someday…when he’s ready. You believe him and drop the subject.
He doesn’t buy flowers often. He doesn’t believe in materialistic things as a way to express feelings for someone. Instead, he’ll help you cook dinner, clean without you asking him to, rub your feet (this is very rare), or agree to watch your favorite movie over and over and over again.
It takes a while to get really intimate with him. You would think that a man like Booker would be into one night stands, but he isn’t into anything like that. The man looks away when you change in front of him lol.
When he does warm up to sex, it’s very awkward at first, but then the two of you get used to each other and you are able to make that physical connection with another.
After you had sex for the first time, Booker changed. He was a bit more comfortable with being touchy, but he still had his limits.
» Married life:
The way he proposed was extremely simple: he cooked you dinner and popped the question. You had been dating for about five years, but even then the question took you by surprise. You obviously said yes.
Don’t expect extravagant dates. He didn’t like any attention on him, so he preferred cozy nights in, but he’d occasionally take you to a fancy restaurant if you begged him.
He’s a lot more helpful with chores than you thought. He’ll do his laundry, take out the trash, sweep, etc., all without a complaint. But he works in silence. He doesn’t talk to you when he’s cleaning, so you don’t bother him. If you have something to say, you wait until he’s finished.
You two fight often. The only way he knows how to express his feelings is through anger. He’s very hotheaded, stubborn, and closed minded. You can’t ever get through to him without screaming at the top of your lungs.
There had been multiple nights where he slept on the couch or you spent the night with a friend just because the two of you couldn’t stand to be around each other. But then you’d both calm down and forgive each other, but the issue wouldn’t be resolved. Booker only saw things his way, and you only saw things yours.
He doesn’t want kids…at least for a while. He doesn’t think he’d be a good father no matter how much you tell him otherwise. He’s scared of losing not only you, but his own flesh and blood god forbid his past catches up to him and something happens.
Divorce has been talked about a few times. He got so tired of your prying, how much you wanted to know about his past, and you got tired of how mean he could be when he argued with you.
But then you looked at each other…you realized how much you loved each other. The two of you may not work your problems out, but at the end of the day, bur marriage was perfect. The good just outweighed the bad in your eyes, even if it wasn’t exactly true.
»»————- ★ ————-««
I now have two bioshock tattoos lol.
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Only You|| Surf’s Up (Ch. 1)
Summary: Reader wakes up to find herself in a typical predicament. She proceeds to join the pouges for some fun in the sun and surfs with a certain Maybank boy;).
Warnings: alcohol consumption
My work is not to be plagiarized.
A/n: Hello dears! I am so excited to bring this series to tumblr. I hope you will enjoy part one of Only You. I’m hoping I can get chapter two out by tomorrow <3.
—————
The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.
It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes one island.
There's figure eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the kooks. Guess where we don't live.
And then there's the south side, or "the cut". Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. Natural habitat of drumroll please... the pouges.
There's JJ, my best friend since the third grade. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, smuggling, vendetta holding, salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know, just don't tell him I said that.
Now there's Y/n. A pouge through and through.
Y/n and JJ have had a thing for each other for as long as anyone can remember. But they both keep... busy. When she's not batting her lashes, you'll find her raving about "real music", or how our society is going to implode because we're all too close-minded. She's definitely going somewhere, not far, but somewhere.
And there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. She's a rich kid, actually, foot in both worlds. And when she's not saving turtles, or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us.
And there's Pope, the brains of the operation. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. A little bit of a weirdo. He's a pouge, just like the rest of us.
So that’s my crew, and that’s me, John Booker Routledge.
—————
Y/n’s POV
Your eyes opened to an unfamiliar room, cluttered with clothes and sports paraphernalia.
"Shit," you mumble, slowly picking someone's arm off of you and slipping out of their bed. You turned away and started sliding on your half-wet bathing suit and clothes as quickly as possible, racking your brain for what happened last night.
"Hey," the guy grumbled, your face instinctively scrunched. Who is this mother fucker.
"Hey..." you whispered back, scrambling with your clothes and picking up your phone.
"Where are you going?" you slowly turn around at this.
"Breakfast," your eyes wandered around the room before discovering a sizable Tom Brady poster right above the bed that makes your eyes bulge.
"Come back to bed." Your eyes are drawn back as he grabs your arm and pulls you to sit on the bed.
"I will, hang on." You say squeezing his hand, smiling, and standing up. You tiptoe out of the house, thankfully making it out without confrontation.
Then a friendly brown van littered with stickers approaches from behind.
"No shit." You half-shout grinning. You hear John B and Kie whooping from inside.
"Woah Y/n, little early for a walk," JJ says. The Twinkie stops and Kie slides the back door open for you.
"You dirty girl." Kie teases.
"Haha very funny," you say smiling as you climb in and shut the door. You now recognize the area as Kie's neighborhood. The Twinkie begins moving once again, as you take your seat next to Kie.
"Shit Y/n, you're macking with kooks now." John B says from the driver's seat.
"I mean, gotta start networking to become a trophy wife early."
"That's what I'm sayin'," Kie adds, her hair blowing from the open windows
"Hey where's Pope?" you ask no one in particular.
"We're on our way over there now." John B replies.
"Ahh," you reply. Then, he and JJ start talking about fishing or some weird redneck shit.
"Sooo... how was it?" Kie questions grinning. You playfully roll your eyes and smile back.
"Who knows anymore, they all blend together."
"It looks like he liked it," she says, her smile still beaming, pointing to your neck. You pull out your phone to check.
"Oh my god." you start, "Men are literally feral, why am I getting marked like a piece of meat."
"He's gotta make sure you know you're his." her smile was stationary on her face.
"God."
"Come on baby, get back in bed and snuggle." she mocks, batting her lashes and pulling your arm.
"No because he basically said that," you respond, eyes widening. "That's not even the worst part. He had a Tom Brady poster above his bed."
"Noo," she replied, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Yeah," you respond, nodding.
"Girl,"
"Maybe this is my sign from the universe to stop hoeing around."
"Maybe,"
"Eh, I won't though." you and Kie laugh together. "What about you? I see the way you and a certain someone have been acting." you pester beaming from ear to ear.
"Shut your mouth," she says raising her eyebrows making you giggle more. She glances at the thankfully, still preoccupied boys, specifically the brunette. "You really can't talk, what about you and blondie?"
"We just flirt for fun. You on the other hand... I see the sly little kisses on the cheek. You're not as slick as you think Missy." you say, pointing an accusatory finger her way.
"You can kiss people on the cheek. Friends kiss each other on the cheek all the time."
"Oh really, when have you ever kissed me on the cheek."
"Uh-..." she starts.
"Exactly," you say, lowering your finger. She then pecks your cheek and your mouth hangs open, your hand flys to the distinct spot. You gasp lightly. "Wow,"
"Um-" a muddled, awkward Pope stands outside the open door of the van. You and Kie both burst into laughter.
—————
All the pouges and you lay sprawled out on the secluded beach, beer in hand. The sun is radiant and the waves crash against the shore.
"Do you think dogs can read minds?" JJ says from beside you on your towel.
"How drunk are you?" Pope asks from his beach chair.
"Maybe," you reply laying on your stomach with your head on your arms. "They're so smart."
"Yeah, smarter than me," JJ replies
"You know, you remind me of a Golden Retriever." you say turning back to look at him over your shoulder, "You're like pure lightheartedness."
"Roof, roof." JJ starts barking. You laugh and nudge him with your leg. "Wait, that's like the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Aww," you say sticking out your bottom lip a bit.
"Y'all are weird." John B says before taking a sip of his beer.
"You're just boring," you reply grinning at him, making him sarcastically roll his eyes.
"Wanna surf?" JJ asks you smiling.
"Who do you think I am." you grin as he grabs your hand to help you up. You take off your shorts and shirt and are met with an ogling boy. "Pick up your jaw blondie," you say, grinning.
"Just enjoying the view." His eyes drink you up and down and a smirk plays on his lips.
"Like what you see?"
"Mhm," he hums in content.
"Come on, dork," you say, putting a hand on his jaw to playfully turn his head to the side. You both jog off towards the crashing waves of the sparkling ocean with your boards. You take turns watching each other surf the waves and while watching him your mind begins to wander.
He surfs the wave effortlessly, his wet hair clings to his face, which is way more attractive than you'd like to admit. And his sparkling blue eyes mirror the hue of the ocean which makes him appear almost godlike. The sight in front of you brings you back to Kie's words. "What about you and blondie?".
Like you had already admitted you and JJ flirted, but you always assumed it was just flirting and nothing else. Now you were beginning to think it was more than that.
Nah no way it's just sexual attraction. I mean sure his smile felt like a beam of sunlight. And his embrace elicited fireworks in your chest. Not to mention every time you make eye contact you could swear your heart stops beating.
It's definitely just sexual.
#outerbanks fic#jj maybank#jj mayback x reader#outer banks#jj maybank fic#jj my beloved#jj maybank fanfiction#obx fandom#obx x reader#obx fic#obx angst#obx jj#jj obx#jj obx fic#obx series#surfing#surfer girl
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Bad Business Ch. 10: There the Vultures Will Gather
Author's note: Again, I'm issuing a trigger warning, as there's stuff in here that might make some people squeamish. You've been warned.
To the childless wife he gives a home, and gladdens her heart with children.
- Ps. 113
Chapter 10:
There the Vultures Will Gather
***
Hudson Police Headquarters
The morning debrief with his team was beginning to bring Chief Parker a glimmer of hope they were making progress on the investigation into Val Stanton's death.
"Okay, how's the 'money' angle coming on the Stanton case?" Parker asked, as he looked around the room.
Detective Benoit answered for the rest of them. "Okay, as far as the financial benefits go, our friends at the International Claim Association confirmed two policies existed for Valerie Stanton. The first is a family policy taken out years ago when both Stanton and her husband were alive. That was through Booker & Sons Life Insurance."
"And the second one?"
"That one was through a different insurance company in Calgary," replied Benoit. "Canadian Rockies Life Insurance taken out maybe six months ago. I spoke with both companies, and no surprise: they're reluctant to put the payouts through since Stanton's death is suspicious and is being investigated as a possible homicide."
"Okay, obviously Stanton's children would have put in the claim for the one with Booker," Jim rightly guessed. "Who made the claim on the non-familial one?"
"We haven't been able to find out yet," Benoit replied. "But the premiums were being paid through an offshore numbered account."
"But someone still had to request Stanton's medical death certificate to make the claim and then file the claim," Parker said.
"Right, and we're waiting for the court orders to come through to access that information. I expect to have them by this afternoon."
"Good work, Benoit," Parker said. "Do you, by chance, have the dollar amount on that second policy?"
"Two million dollars," Benoit answered. "Not bad for a financial motive if you're looking for one."
"Nope, not a bad motive at all," Parker said. "Let me know as soon as you hear back about who requested Stanton's medical death certificate for that second claim."
"Of course, Chief," said Benoit, though both men and the rest of the team had a strong hunch who that person might be.
***
At noon, Calgary detective James Prescott called with an update for Chief Parker.
"I can't thank you enough for the heads up with that investors' group list," Prescott said. "The stuff we're digging up about Tanner Gunn, well, it's leading us down a bit of a rabbit hole."
Parker felt his pulse quicken. "What have you been digging up?"
"My undercover guys said Tanner Gunn was in the hole to the tune of around 900K over a year ago with one of the underground, high-roller poker tables in Calgary. But get this: the loan shark who staked him apparently got all his money back, with interest, no problem."
"A 'year ago' also being right around the time Lanny Barick wound up shot to death," Parker said.
"Rather convenient, wouldn't you say?" Prescott said.
"A little too convenient," Parker commented wryly.
"And you're going to love this one. The International Claim Association confirmed policies exist for every single member of that investors' group through various insurance companies," Prescott added. "Which is not unusual on the surface, but what is a little unusual is they all have more than one policy to their names. And the second policy for all of them—all taken out within the last year or so—is with the same insurance company in Calgary: Canadian Rockies Life Insurance."
***
Heartland Ranch House
"I got your text about Remi, Georgie. Are you doing okay?" Adam asked as he hopped off his bike, having just come from school.
"Not really," Georgie replied with a slow, miserable shake of her head. "Everything is just awful."
"I know. I'm sorry again about Lisa," Adam said sincerely, reaching over to give her a friendly hug. "I'll never forget her crazy aunt who brought all those wacky presents that time."
"Yeah, Aunt Evelyn," Georgie said wistfully. "Crazy. She's supposed to be getting here in a few days. Lisa's sister and nephew are supposed to fly in tomorrow."
"Do you know anything more about Remi? Your text said she had a seizure last night."
"Ty says she was poisoned. Strychnine," Georgie said, eyes downcast. "But he said she hasn't had another seizure since then, so that's a good sign. He doesn't know the source of the poison yet, but he and Cassandra are running tests on stuff like her stomach contents to figure it out."
"I guess that's good news, right?"
"I guess," Georgie said, still sullen.
"Hey, do you want to go for a ride?" Adam suggested brightly. "It might take your mind off things."
Georgie looked at him doubtfully. "You're not exactly the biggest horseback riding fan. Are you sure?"
"Yeah, but you like it," Adam said. "C'mon. Let's go."
The pair saddled up and took a path out in the direction of the Dude Ranch, maintaining a slow pace and an easy silence. Georgie was grateful for this, as she was not in the mood for idle chatter. Simply having Adam's company was enough.
Her phone buzzed a message at that point. She looked at the screen and saw it was from Wyatt.
"It's Wyatt," Georgie said to Adam, reining in Phoenix. "Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead," Adam replied. He was relieved for the opportunity to rest, as he still was not entirely comfortable being bounced around in a saddle, even on an easy ride through the woods.
Wyatt: Hey Georgie that totally SUCKS about remi and I hope she gets better
- Mom needed me to babysit Brick after school or I'd be there
- Missing u at class and hope ur back soon
Georgie: Thnx Wyatt that means a lot
- No worries about not being here
- Adam is over right now so between the two of u looking out for me its not so bad
- I hope I'm back soon too maybe tomorrow or something
Wyatt: OK great!
- See u soon
- bye
Georgie: bye
"Hey, Georgie, look!" Adam said, just as Georgie put her phone away.
She glanced up to see Adam pointing at several black birds that were wheeling in the air a short distance away.
"Those are turkey vultures," Adam explained, pulling out information from his encyclopedic memory. "They're carrion birds. Something must've died out there and they're ready to feast."
"Oh, gross," Georgie said, grimacing.
"It might be the bear that's on the loose. It could have killed something and left behind a carcass," Adam posited.
"Again, gross," Georgie said, eyeing him in the hopes he would quit.
"I'm serious," Adam said. "I think we should check it out. You're not missing any Dude Ranch horses right now, are you?"
"No..." Georgie said slowly. "But-but we are missing a Dude Ranch guest. Oh, no. You don't think..."
Despite not wanting to get close to anything that might be deceased, Georgie nudged Phoenix onwards. Adam followed, scanning the foliage ahead.
Following the direction the birds seemed to be flying would take them off the marked trail into the bushes and more wild, overgrown vegetation. The teens decided to dismount and continue on foot. After securing the horses, Georgie and Adam trudged through the bushes and came upon a small natural clearing beneath the canopy of a grouping of trees. Moments later, they sighted an almost unrecognizable but nevertheless very human heap lying prone on the grass, partially obscured by some shrubbery. Their nostrils were soon assailed by the stench of decay. Flies buzzed and were clustering all over the rotting mass of flesh. Two turkey vultures descended on the body, flapping their massive wings as they settled to begin their meal.
"I-I think you'd better call your mom," Adam said shakily, averting his glance from the stomach-turning spectacle. "And I'm calling my dad."
***
Hudson Veterinary Clinic
"Great. The rest of the lab results just came back for Remi," Ty said, clicking on the report in his email Inbox.
Interest instantly piqued, Cass looked over at her colleague. "So, what was the source of the poison?"
"Her dog food," Ty said, staring at the lab results as if to be sure his eyes were not misleading him.
"How did strychnine get into her food?" Cass asked, equally puzzled.
"I don't know," Ty said tersely as he pulled out his cell phone and hurriedly dialled home. "It's a bag she's been eating from for nearly a week. If it had come contaminated from the production line, she would have been sick a long time ago."
Cass stared at him. "Who are you calling?"
"Home," he replied, exhaling sharply. When Amy answered, Ty did not waste time with pleasantries. "Amy, I need you to grab the open bag of Remi's dog chow right now. Don't touch the contents. In fact, use gloves when you handle the bag. Put it in a heavy-duty garbage bag and seal it tightly. Get it down here to the clinic as soon as you can."
"Ty, slow down, please,"Amy begged. "What's this all about?"
Ty caught himself and scaled back his agitation. "The strychnine poisoning," he stated, his spoken pace this time more slow and deliberate. "We tested the water in her dish, and that came back negative. The only other thing in Remi's stomach was her food, so that means her food was the source of the poison."
"What? Are you sure?" Amy's own shocked reaction was not lost on Ty.
"Without a doubt," Ty answered, looking back at his computer screen.
"All right. I'll get the food. Lyndy just woke up from a nap, so she'll have to come with me."
"Okay, thanks, Amy," said Ty gratefully.
***
Lou could not have been more shocked when she received Georgie's call about a dead body near Heartland Equestrian Connections. She had just finished speaking with Evelyn about her travel details and how she would be more comfortable in the house than at the Dude Ranch. Cabins Three and Four were already made up and waiting for Rachel and Ben to occupy when they arrived in Hudson; Cabin Two was still off-limits.
Chief Parker and his forensics team were already at the site when Lou arrived.
"Mom," Georgie called upon spotting Lou, and quickly went to her for a comforting hug.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Lou asked, holding her daughter close for several moments.
Georgie nodded. "I'm okay," she said at length. "At least I'm better now that you're here."
"Thanks for coming, Ms. Fleming," Jim said. "I really need you to be present when we talk to Georgie about all this since she's still a minor."
"Of course," Lou said, sending her daughter a look of maternal concern. Parker summoned Detective Constable Patterson to assist in the questioning. Lou stood by quietly while Adam and Georgie answered Patterson's questions as best they could.
"We touched absolutely nothing," Adam said in response to her query about their actions upon discovering the body. "I know you're not supposed to contaminate a possible crime scene."
"I know you know," Jim interjected patiently, "but we don't always follow logic when we stumble upon something like this."
"As soon as we realised what it was, we halted where we were right away," Adam continued.
"Yeah, there's no way we were getting any closer to that," Georgie said, her stomach still churning uncomfortably. "That's when we called you all to come."
"Okay, thanks," Patterson said. "Tell us what led you to finding the body in the first place. We're really off the beaten path, here."
"There were some turkey vultures," Adam explained. "I saw them flying around. They're not too common in this part of the province; that's why I noticed them. Since they're carrion birds, I figured something was probably dead out here. That's when Georgie mentioned the missing Dude Ranch guest."
"Carrion birds," Parker muttered with a shake of his head. "Of all things."
"I'm satisfied with what they've had to say, Chief," Patterson said to her boss. "Are you good?"
"Yes, I'm good," Parker said to his subordinate. "You can head back to the scene."
"Will do," she said, and moved off to rejoin the forensic team's efforts.
Jim returned his attention to Adam and Georgie. "Thanks, both of you; you did great today. You called immediately and kept your cool. I know plenty of adults who would not have reacted in as level-headed a way that you have."
"Thank you, sir," Georgie said demurely.
"Thanks, Dad."
"I'm going to talk to your mom now, Georgie," Chief Parker said. "You can wait for her if you like, but the two of you are free to go now if you want. I may have questions later for you, and you can call me if you think of something you didn't mention here."
"Okay, sure," Georgie said. "I think I'll go."
"Yeah, I'd rather go, too," Adam said in relief.
"All right," Parker said. "Be careful on the ride back."
"We will," Adam said.
With that, the teens returned to the horses and rode back to the ranch house, still not completely over the shock and disgust of discovering the corpse.
Chief Parker now focused his attention on Lou. "Georgie tells me you've been missing a Dude Ranch guest," Chief Parker said.
"That's right," Lou said. "Dov Grosvenor. He's been missing for several days. My manager said one of the guests saw him either late on Friday night or very early on Saturday morning out by the firepit. It's all in the information I gave to one of your constables. He came out here yesterday when I called; I filed a Missing Persons report with him."
"About that," Parker said, "it turns out the name 'Dov Grosvenor' is an alias of some kind. No one exists with that name that we can determine."
"He registered under a false name?" Lou's surprise was evident.
"So it would appear, Ms. Fleming," Jim said. "We're of course working on the assumption this is your vanished-into-thin-air Dude Ranch guest, whatever his name really is. Not a pretty way to go."
"No," Lou said, shuddering at the grim realisation her guest had probably met his horrible end due to an encounter with the roving bear.
As Chief Parker feared, the body was far too bloodied, marred and mauled to be positively identified by anyone. There had been no wallet, but a phone with a cracked screen along with other items had been taken by Parker's forensics team.
"Do you get many hunters out here at the Dude Ranch, Ms. Fleming?" he asked.
"Never," Lou said with an instant negative shake of her head. "Why do you ask?"
Parker looked over at his forensics team. They were still gathering evidence, bagging soil samples, and taking photographs. "I ask because we found a rifle near the body," Parker replied.
The chief was referring to the Special Edition Tikka T3x Compact Tactical rifle, mounted with a Steiner Military 3-15x50mm MSR scope and an Ase-Utra SL5i suppressor, which was discovered a short distance from the corpse. This weapon was of great interest to Parker and his team as they quickly noticed the absence of any serial numbers that could indicate license and ownership.
"No, no hunters," Lou repeated with emphasis, surprised at the news the dead man had been armed. "We've never advertised the Dude Ranch as such, either. It's not like we're a big game resort. At most, our guests do a little recreational fishing out on the pond."
"Hmm," Parker murmured. "You see, I don't like the coincidence of this rifle, the bear attack, and the recent death of Val Stanton. Next question: Do you get many trespassers at Heartland or the Dude Ranch?"
Lou gasped, an awful possibility dawning on her.
"What is it?" Parker asked.
"Um, I'll have to check my bookings, but, if this really is my missing guest, I—I think he was also checked in here during the time Val was killed," Lou said, gulping uncomfortably.
"I'll need to see those booking records, Ms. Fleming," Parker said. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer I get a warrant first."
"No, no, I'll gladly volunteer that information if it means we'll get to the bottom of who this guy is and what happened to Val," said Lou.
"Thank you," Parker said. He then beckoned to his forensics team to join him. "While you dig up those records, I'd like to look at the cabin he was staying in right away, please."
"All right," Lou said. "Cabin Two. Follow me. Oh, this is his truck, by the way."
Parker looked at the Ford F-150 that Lou was pointing to. He remembered how his rookie constable had taken the time to inspect the registration sticker when he came out to speak with Lou and found it to be a fake. Now Parker wondered about the license plate itself. He realised Becket had not mentioned anything about it—just the phony registration sticker. He would have to ask the kid what he found out about who the plate was actually registered to when he got back to headquarters.
"Ms. Fleming, when your missing guest first drove up here, did you notice if he had anything loaded in the back of his pickup? An ATV or a dirt bike, or something like that?" Parker questioned.
"No, why?" asked Lou.
"See these straps and this ramp?" Parker said, pointing to the items in the truck's bed. "He may have had something secured back here."
Lou looked for herself. "He couldn't have been bringing an ATV or a bike," she said in reply. "We don't permit those kinds of vehicles to go zooming all over the place here. Heartland Equestrian Connections is meant to be for peace and quiet. If either Jen or I had seen him pull up with something like that, we would have made him fully aware of our policy, in case he missed it on the website."
"Okay, thanks," Jim said, putting the issue on his mental back burner for the time being. "Let's see the inside of his cabin now, please."
"Let me get the master key," Lou said.
"Just unlock it, but don't touch the handle," Parker said in warning.
"Okay," Lou said. She climbed the steps and unlocked the door without touching the handle, as requested.
"Wait outside, please, Ms. Fleming, while my team goes over everything," said Jim.
"Of course." Lou stood back to let the forensics team first dust the handle for fingerprints and then enter the premises.
While Parker and his team pored over Cabin Two, Lou was gripped with apprehension. I can't believe this is happening. This is going to absolutely kill the Dude Ranch business. Who is going to want to stay here after people find out one of my guests was killed by a bear?
She pulled out her cell phone to access the bookings app to get the information for the chief. Sure enough, the name 'Dov Grosvenor' appeared as having reserved Cabin Two earlier in April, coinciding with the date of Val Stanton's death. Lou shivered at having that piece of information confirmed. Who was this guy, and could he really be responsible for what happened to Val?
Inside Cabin Two, Parker was initially disappointed. A pair of khaki-coloured pants and black cotton T-shirt lay folded crisply on the bed, the latter of which was also made up neatly.
"Chief, we've got something under the bed," one of the forensics team members named Corey Fraser stated. "It looks like a couple weapons cases of some kind."
The forensics photographer, Jason Pruitt, immediately dropped to the floor to snap images of the location of the cases.
"Let's pull them out and see what we have," Parker said, once Jason was finished.
Corey reached in and dragged the larger case out first.
"Empty," Corey said after snapping it open. The interior held sturdy foam packing, the contours of which very obviously matched the tactical rifle they discovered earlier near the body. There were also indentations that matched the shape of the weapon's scope and suppressor.
"Let's have a look inside that second case," Parker said.
Corey flipped the tabs and opened the lid to reveal a pair of Glock 17 pistols.
"Let's get pictures and bag and tag," Parker commanded. His team immediately complied with the instruction.
***
Hudson County Morgue
"Jim, we won't get anything from his fingerprints, unfortunately," the coroner Harlan Blackburn said as the two men stood in front of the stainless steel slab upon which the dead man's reeking remains were laid out, covered by a sheet.
"Why is that, Harlan?" Chief Parker asked, doing his best not to breathe through his nose.
"Not enough left of the fingers. Our guy must have put up his hands and arms defensively to protect his head and neck when the bear attacked. Chewed up his fingers and hands pretty bad. See?"
Harlan raised the sheet to show what was left of one of the dead man's hands.
Jim had seen his fair share of dead bodies in his career, but this was the first bear mauling he had come across, and he felt his stomach flip at the sight of the mangled, rotting digits.
"He didn't leave any prints in the cabin or in the truck, either," Jim said, swallowing hard against the tide of bile rising in his throat.
"I'll get you some dental X-rays and see if we get lucky," Harlan said casually.
"Great," Jim said. "Have you been able to determine a time of death yet?"
"From the observed rate of decay and the stage of the life-cycle of the flies present, I'd say he's been dead close to three or four days, give or take."
"So that would mean he's been dead since Saturday or Sunday," Jim stated.
"Yeah. Plus, turkey vultures tend to be picky about what they'll consume," Harlan continued. "They usually turn up their beaks if something's been dead past the four-day mark. Mind you, overnight temperatures have been close to freezing these past couple nights, which would of course also slow the decomposition... But I'd still say three or four days."
Jim said, "That pretty much squares with what one of our witnesses says about the last time this guy was seen alive. Thanks, Harlan. Let me know when your report is done."
Harlan gave him a thumbs-up. "You're welcome, Chief. The report will be ready lickety-split barring any surprises."
With that, Parker beat a hasty exit out the door. A few breaths of non-decay-scented air later, and he was on his way back to police headquarters to question his procedurally lax rookie constable.
"Becket," he said, upon finding the hapless young man. "About that Missing Persons report you tried to file for the name 'Dov Grosvenor' ... you did actually run the guy's license plate through the database, right?"
A beat of silence passed. "No, sir," Becket said as he visibly paled. "Once I realised the registration sticker was fake and didn't find his name anywhere, I just assumed the plate was fake, too—"
"Rookie," Parker growled. "Never 'assume' anything. Run that plate now and find out who it's supposed to be registered to!"
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," Becket said meekly.
"Chief, that name 'Dov Grosvenor'..." Benoit said thoughtfully, having heard the exchange.
"What about it?"
"I knew a guy in high school back in Montreal named 'Dov'," Benoit recounted. "I remember it because it was so unusual. He told me he had Jewish ancestry and that the name means 'bear' in Hebrew."
Detective Constable Patterson picked up on this. "How about we see what the name 'Grosvenor' means, too?" she asked while tapping an inquiry into the Google search engine. Two seconds later, she had the result. "You're not going to believe this, but 'Grosvenor' means 'chief or royal hunter'."
"A guy registers under a fake name that essentially means 'royal bear hunter' only to end up getting mauled to death by a bear? If that don't beat all," Kavanaugh said with a dry laugh.
"Now that's what I'd call poetic justice," Parker said.
"Chief," said Becket, coming back with the results of his own search. "The license plate on the truck comes back as being registered to a beige 1998 Toyota Corolla belonging to 79-year-old Mildred McCann of Grande Prairie, Alberta."
"Stolen plate?" Benoit asked what everyone was thinking.
"Maybe," Parker said pensively. "Let's get Grande Prairie RCMP on the line, please, Constable Becket. You're going to explain to them that we have a truck here in Hudson with a license plate that should be on a Toyota in their city. Find out everything you can about the owner and how she might be connected to our dead guy."
"Yes, sir," Becket said, and retreated to his desk to do just that.
***
Half an hour later, Becket reported his findings to Chief Parker.
"Grande Prairie RCMP think they can ID our body," Becket said.
Parker was instantly alert. "Who was he?"
"They think it's Mildred McCann's son, 36-year-old Earl McCann," Becket said. "He's got several outstanding warrants for theft, assault, uttering threats, fraud, and so on. They said he was dishonourably discharged from the Armed Forces years ago for insubordination and pretty much being a violent, loose canon.
"Mildred has Alzheimer's and is in an assisted-living facility. The RCMP corporal I spoke with says Earl never visits, but somehow the bills get paid. RCMP in Cold Lake almost had him a while back when he was stopped for driving around in the truck with the plate registered to his mother's sedan. Those cops let him go because Earl reportedly claimed he had not had time to get to the registry office to make the switch. Those Cold Lake guys assumed he was telling the truth and let him go with a warning to get it done. They didn't realise their mistake until he was long gone."
"See how assuming something can lead to bigger problems?" Parker said, knowing the lesson would not be lost on his rookie.
"Yes, sir," Becket said solemnly.
Parker sighed. "Eh, for what it's worth, Earl McCann does not sound like the kind of guy who would have let himself be taken in because of a petty registration violation. He most likely would have shot and killed those cops in cold blood if they had pulled up his warrants at the time."
Becket's eyes went wide. "I hadn't thought of that, sir."
"All right. I'll let Harlan know to send the dental X-rays to the Grande Prairie detachment," Parker said. "I'm sure they'll be able to confirm it's Earl McCann."
"Yes, sir," Becket said.
Turning to the rest of his team, Parker said: "Now we get to figure out why Dov Grosvenor, aka, Earl McCann, was staying in Hudson and how he managed to get himself killed by a bear. We've got lots of evidence to process, so let's get moving."
***
Heartland Ranch — Barn Loft
Ty was dreaming in the early morning hours. An open country road stretched before him as he rode his treasured Norton motorcycle. Someone's arms held onto him tightly from behind. Without turning to look, he instinctively knew it was Amy. Such a feeling of freedom coursed through him, he did not even wonder for a moment where they were headed, or that none of this made any sense since he was no longer in possession of the Norton.
As is sometimes the case in such dreams, Ty's point of view shifted. He was now observing the ride rather than experiencing it. He noticed with a touch of confusion it was not Amy who was snuggled up close to him, but rather Ashley Stanton. Repulsed, Ty brought the motorcycle to a halt and planted his feet on the ground.
"Get off the bike, Ashley. I'm supposed to be giving Amy a ride."
"What?" Ashley whined. "But this is my brother's bike. You promised me you'd take me out for a spin."
"No, this is my bike," Ty argued indignantly. "Get off!"
"You can't leave me stranded on the side of the road," Ashley complained. "Take me back to Briar Ridge."
Ty thought to himself this was a reasonable request since he really could not just abandon Ashley in the middle of nowhere.
"Fine," Ty heard himself saying. "But if Amy shows up, you're getting off, and I'm taking her."
"Fine," Ashley said.
Ty started up his bike again and turned around, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Amy.
The dream then seemed to morph into other images and sights that no longer had any connection to the original theme. When Ty awoke, the dream was already fading. By the time he had brushed his teeth and washed his face, he had already forgotten most of it. However, a small voice nagged in the back of his brain he should have paid attention to something important in that dream, but that detail remained elusive.
***
May 8
Hudson Times—Online Version
Man Mauled to Death
Nadir Jutley
Hudson Police along with Alberta Fish and Wildlife are issuing an urgent alert to all residents of Hudson county after a grisly discovery. The body of an unidentified man, badly mauled, was found in a wilderness area near the Heartland Equestrian Connections resort yesterday afternoon.
The owner and operator of Heartland Equestrian Connections, Samantha Fleming, declined to comment on the situation due to the ongoing investigation by Hudson police, but did say the resort will be closed to the public for the next two weeks.
If you see the bear, contact Alberta Fish and Wildlife immediately at 555-625-1540. Do not approach the animal under any circumstances.
More details to come as information is released by authorities.
Email: nadir_jutley
***
Hudson Police Headquarters
"I've got the ballistics report on the rifle we found yesterday at the Dude Ranch, Chief," said Kavanaugh as his boss walked into the room for the morning briefing. The team had been burning the midnight oil working on the evidence collected from the Dude Ranch, and results were beginning to filter through.
"Let me guess: Earl McCann's rifle is the same weapon that killed Valerie Stanton," Parker said.
"You got it in one, Chief," Kavanaugh said, "it's just as you suspected."
"What about the pistols we found in the cabin?" Parker asked. "Anything special about them?"
"Well, we already knew those Glocks—untraceable of course—were the wrong caliber for the Stillman shooting," Kavanaugh said. "But we did get a hit on an unsolved murder on one of the Glocks. I've just shared that information with Detective Prescott in Calgary."
"Oh?" Parker said, interest aroused.
"You're probably not going to believe this, but the ballistics on one of them came back as a match on the Barick murders."
"You're saying McCann was responsible for Stanton and the Baricks?!" Parker exclaimed.
"So it would seem," Kavanaugh said. "Why else would he have been in possession of those weapons?"
"But he didn't shoot Lisa Stillman," Parker spoke, more of a statement than a question.
"Doubtful," Patterson chimed in. "The kind of professional, high-end firearms McCann had, no way he would have been using a pea-shooter like what was probably used on Stillman on the road that day."
"Which means we still have more than one shooter on our hands," Parker said gravely.
Patterson nodded back in silent acknowledgment of this fact.
"Hmph," Parker sighed. "Benoit, tell me you have good news about that phone we found on McCann's body."
"I was just coming to tell you, Boss," Benoit said hastily. "We worked all night. Finally cracked the encryption a couple minutes ago. Look at what we pulled off his message history."
"Show us."
Benoit flashed an image file up on the screen. "That's a picture of Lisa Stillman," he said. "It was received the day of the attempt on her life in the hospital. And then there's also a picture of Val Stanton, received shortly before she was shot."
"A killer for hire, right here in Hudson," Parker said with a shake of his head as he stared at the images. "Okay, so we can tie McCann to Stanton's killing with the photo he was sent, and with the ballistics match on the rifle. He was obviously the one to go after Stillman in the hospital. But if he didn't shoot her, who did?"
"That is a mystery," Benoit said with a shrug. "But that's not all. Two more pictures were sent this past Saturday. Are we seeing a pattern, yet?"
All eyes focused on the two additional pictures Benoit pulled from the phone.
"Our very own Hudson veterinarians," Parker said in recognition of Drs. Scott Cardinal and Ty Borden.
"Who both happened to be on the scene when Lisa Stillman was shot," Patterson said.
"Looks like Stillman's shooter is trying to eliminate any possibility of being identified," Kavanaugh added.
"Tell me you have a bead on who was sending McCann those pictures, Benoit," Parker said.
"We're still trying to figure that out, sir," Benoit answered ruefully. "Whoever sent the pictures was using a burner phone. Unless he tries to make contact again, we can't trace him."
Another thought suddenly occurred to Parker. "What's happened to the court orders to get the ID of the person who requested Val Stanton's death certificate and who filed that second insurance claim?"
"Oh!" Benoit exclaimed. "Those probably came through yesterday right when we were called out to deal with the situation at the Dude Ranch. I'll get on that right away, sir."
***
Hudson Funeral Home
Stanley Belmont could feel a trickle of perspiration starting to make its way down the side of his face. Faced with questions about his involvement with Tanner Gunn's investors' group and his recent application for the medical death certificate for Val Stanton, he nevertheless tried to keep his panic and his indignation in check.
"Of course I requested Val Stanton's death certificate," he said testily in reply to Detective Kavanaugh's question about it. "As the owner and operator of this business and as the one entrusted with handling Val's funeral arrangements, I had every legitimate right to request it."
Patterson and Kavanaugh nodded in agreement, hoping to keep the man at ease before they dropped the next question.
"Yes, we know Ms. Stanton's will stipulated that your business was to handle everything at whatever time she passed," said Kavanaugh.
"Well, then, what's the trouble?" Stanley asked, clearly exasperated.
"The trouble is we can't seem to find a reason why you also applied to receive a copy of Lisa Stillman's medical death certificate," Patterson said, looking him squarely in the face.
Stanley swallowed.
"Lisa's family says she stipulated she wanted a funeral home in Calgary to handle her arrangements," Patterson said. "So I ask you now: why did you request a copy of Lisa Stillman's death certificate when you didn't need it?"
Both Kavanaugh and Patterson noted the nervous shift of Belmont's eyes.
"We also have questions for you about your gambling habits, Mr. Belmont," Kavanaugh said. "You and Tanner Gunn like to frequent the poker tables, don't you?"
Belmont pursed his lips. "And what if I do?" he challenged with a question of his own.
"Nothing, really," Kavanaugh said, "except if those poker tables are illegal. How much are you in the hole for, Mr. Belmont?"
"Um, I think I'd like to contact my lawyer before I say anything more," Stanley eventually uttered after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
"Fine," Kavanaugh said. "That's entirely your right. But you're treading on dangerous ground, Mr. Belmont, and I think you know you are."
"Call your lawyer, Mr. Belmont," Patterson said. "We can all meet together down at police headquarters."
"Am I under arrest?" Belmont nearly squeaked, his voice nervously rising in pitch.
"That all depends on how you answer our questions," Kavanaugh said.
"Call," Patterson said, nodding at the phone on Stanley's desk. "Then you're coming with us for more questioning."
With a resigned sigh, Stanley picked up the phone and dialled.
***
Calgary International Airport
Lou watched carefully for Rachel and Ben Stillman at the Arrivals gate. She recognized Ben on sight, though it had been years since she last saw him. The handsome, yet arrogant lad she remembered had grown a few more inches since then, and had matured into a young man with rugged good looks. The dark blonde woman nearly hidden behind his tall frame could only be Rachel. Though they had never met, Lou could see the family resemblance instantly, as Rachel's looks were strikingly similar to Lisa's.
Not that they'd ever be mistaken for twins, Lou now thought, but it's clear they were related...
Lou waved to get their attention. As soon as they saw her, they quickened their pace to meet up.
"Hi, Lou," Ben said.
"Hello, Ben," Lou responded, giving him a brief hug.
"Thanks for coming for us," he said. "This is my mother, Rachel."
"Hi, Rachel," Lou said, choosing to give the other woman a quick hug as well. "We spoke on the phone, obviously..."
"Yes," Rachel said. "It's nice to finally meet you face to face after all the times Lisa shared family photos..."
"Your, uhm, the flight was okay? You got everything?" Lou asked awkwardly, indicating their luggage.
"Yes, thanks," Rachel said, in answer to both questions.
"All right, good. Follow me and we'll be off."
The ride back to Hudson was spent mostly in silence. No one quite knew what to say as the subject of what brought them together at this time was still too raw and too devastating to address head-on, though Lou could sense Rachel was brimming with questions she desperately wanted answered.
Rachel did speak once when she mentioned how much certain areas of Calgary they passed along the way had changed, and how much larger the urban sprawl had grown since she was last in that city.
"Hudson has changed quite a bit too," Lou commented. "Especially since all the flooding in 2013."
"Yes, I remember that," Rachel said contemplatively. "The footage we saw on the news was just awful."
"But we pulled through," Lou said, thinking of how members of their community had indeed joined forces to help each other, including the local Hutterite colony.
No one said anything more until they reached Heartland.
"Wow. Are those my old jumps?" asked Ben upon seeing them in the yellow glow of the fading afternoon sunlight when Lou pulled up.
"Yes," Lou responded.
"Who's that riding in the pen right now?"
"My daughter, Georgie," Lou replied with a touch of pride.
"Oh, yeah," Ben said. "She's the kid you adopted, right? Lisa mentioned her a few times. I'm glad someone's making use of them... and since Lisa's technically her family... was her family..."
Ben morosely stopped talking.
"Well, here we are," Lou said clumsily, putting the SUV in park and shutting off the engine.
"You know, I wasn't sure when I'd ever see this place again," Ben murmured.
"I heard so much about it from her," Rachel said as she stared out the windshield at the ranch house. "She told me she was so happy when she finally moved in here with Jack... It's just as 'homey' as she described it. Thanks for bringing us here and for offering to put us up at your Dude Ranch, Lou. I don't think I'm emotionally ready to be at Fairfield just yet. Not when she can't be there with us anymore."
Lou sent a sympathetic glance at Rachel. "Come on. Let's go inside. Amy will have supper ready by now."
They followed Lou up the porch steps. She held the screen and the kitchen door open for them to enter.
"Our stuff will be safe in the SUV, right?" a worried Rachel asked while looking over her shoulder, thinking at once of her luggage.
"You're out in the country again, Rachel," Lou responded. "This isn't the city. No one's going to break in here."
"Right," Rachel said with a wry smile. "I'd forgotten what it was like to leave your doors unlocked."
"Ben," Amy said warmly upon seeing the young man step foot in the kitchen. She approached right away and embraced him as if greeting an old friend.
"Hey, Amy," Ben answered back. "It's good to see you, even under the circumstances."
"I know," Amy said after pulling away. "I'm sorry it took something like this for us to meet again."
"This is my mom, Rachel," Ben said, gesturing to his mother. "Mom, this is Amy. She and I also used to compete against each other on the circuit."
"Hi, Rachel," Amy said, deciding to give the woman a hug as well. She, too, noticed how similar in appearance Rachel was to Lisa.
"Nice to meet you, Amy," Rachel said. "Lisa told me so much about you—about all of you—over the years. I almost feel like I know you."
"Excuse me while I go call my daughter in for dinner," Lou said, hoping to avoid any further mention of difficult topics. "The bathroom is just down there around the corner if you want to freshen up."
"I'm fine," Ben said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I could use a bathroom break," Rachel sighed, and made directly for the facilities.
"Why don't you have a seat either here in the kitchen or in the living room, Ben?" Amy suggested. "I'm just going to go check on my daughter."
"Sure," Ben said easily, deciding to lounge on the couch.
A minute later, Amy returned with a still-sleepy Lyndy, who had just woken from a nap in Katie's room.
"Ah, who's this?" Ben asked with a smile upon seeing mother and child.
"Meet Lyndy," Amy said. "She turned two in December. Say 'hi' to Ben, sweetheart."
Lyndy rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. "Hi," she whispered shyly.
"HI, Lyndy," Ben answered back with a smile. "She's super-cute, Amy. I bet she's got Ty wrapped around her little finger."
"Oh, does she ever," Amy said with a roll of her eyes and a soft laugh.
"Where is Ty, anyway?"
"Working. He had the day shift at the vet clinic in town, but he's supposed to be on his way home now."
"Right, he's 'Dr. Borden' now," Ben said. "Lisa sent photos of the graduation ceremony."
"It sounds like she kept you up-to-date," Amy said.
"She did," Ben confirmed with a short nod. "Aunt Lisa was proud of all of you; proud to call you her family. It made me feel a little jealous sometimes, to be honest. Made me wish I was back in Hudson, even if I didn't exactly enjoy it when I was sent here during my parents' divorce."
"That was a rough time for you, Ben," Amy said in sympathy. "You know my parents split up too, so I understand. It's hard to appreciate anything when your whole life is being turned upside-down."
"No kidding," muttered Ben.
Presently, Lou returned. "Georgie should be in here soon," she said. "Thanks for taking care of dinner, Amy. I guess we can start as soon as Ty gets in."
"And he should be here any time," Amy stated.
"Is Rachel still — ?" Lou began to ask, jerking a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.
Amy nodded.
"Should I check on her?" Lou asked. "I'll check on her."
Amy was about to protest, but realised the woman had been in there a while.
Lou tapped lightly in the bathroom door. She could not be sure, but she thought she heard the sound of muffled sobs before the sudden flush of the toilet followed by the noisy gush of the faucet.
"Are you okay, Rachel?" Lou called.
"Be out in a minute," Rachel replied in a nasally, constrained voice.
"Okay, we'll be at the dinner table," Lou said before turning away.
***
The meal started out in a subdued fashion. Nobody seemed willing or ready to talk about what had been happening over the past week. They ate and drank in silence, until finally Ben broke the ice. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak.
"You know, I just wanna say to you guys I was a real brat when I was sent to stay here," he said solemnly. "And I'm sorry for all that."
"Oh, that was long ago. You don't have to apologize for anything, Ben," Lou said kindly.
"Yeah, but still. I could have been more gracious about, well, everything," he said. "What's happened... it's been a huge wake-up call for me. I thought at the time Lisa was just trying to get rid of me by dumping me here. But I get it now. I get it. Even then she saw something special in this family. She wanted me to experience that also. I didn't appreciate it enough."
Amy noticed Lou's eyes were brimming, and she could feel the moisture building beneath her own lids.
"Anyway, that's all I wanted to say," Ben said.
"Thank you, Ben," Amy said, giving him a smile of encouragement. "Lisa... was very special to us, too..."
Georgie was starting to get weepy. Ty blinked back his own tears.
"My sister," Rachel began shakily, "was never able to have children of her own. But she regarded all of you as if you were her own. I hope you know that."
Silent tears slipped from Amy's eyes as she recalled the very candid conversation she had shared with Lisa not so long ago about her miscarriages. "We know," she said with a sad smile and a nod.
"All right, enough emotional stuff," Rachel declared. "I want to hear about all of you. I mean, Lisa would call and talk about what was happening with the family, but I want to hear details."
"No, first I want to hear about you two," Amy said. "I have a feeling Lisa probably shared a lot more about us with you than she did about you with us."
"That'd be my fault," Ben admitted. "I didn't communicate with Lisa nearly as much. She'd send emails all the time, but I don't think I sent many back."
"So what's been going on with you, then?" asked Amy.
"Well, I got my MBA as you may know," Ben replied. "I've been working as a financial analyst for a startup in Montreal for the past year. Keeps me busy."
"You should talk to Lou," Amy said, looking over at her sister. "She got her MBA. Put it to good use, too."
"Oh, I've done all right," Lou said, flipping a hand dismissively. "Nothing crazy."
"That's not what Aunt Lisa told me," Ben said seriously. "She told me all about how great the Dude Ranch was. Said you were one of the smartest and most competent women she knew. I think that was after she sold her share back to you. You handle people's financial portfolios, and you also published a book, right?"
"Yeah," Lou said slowly. She was struck by the fact Lisa had taken the time to share such things with her nephew, and that he remembered them.
"And Lisa said that Maggie's Diner is a franchise now," Ben continued.
"It is," Lou said.
"I bet Mrs. Duval never dreamed her little diner would be a franchise in Times Square," Ben said. "You're living the dream, Lou."
"'The dream' is also very busy," Lou said. She looked over briefly at Georgie. "It takes me away from my family much more than I wish it did. I was actually in New York dealing with the franchise when I got the call about Lisa..." her voice trailed off. Unable to continue, she instead took a drink of water.
"Uh, speaking of Maggie's," Ben said to move past the uncomfortable moment, "How's Soraya?"
Amy answered: "She's doing great. Loves London."
"Ontario?" Ben asked.
"England," Amy corrected. "It's where her husband, Dillon, is from."
"Wow. I didn't even know she got married," Ben expressed his surprise. "Time flies."
"Maggie moved out there, too. It's why Lou bought the diner in the first place."
"Crazy decision," Lou said with a shake of her head.
"Hey, Lou, maybe I'll open a Maggie's Diner location in Montreal," Ben quipped. "How much to become a franchisee?"
"Don't encourage her," Amy chuckled with a grin and a roll of her eyes.
***
Hudson Police Headquarters
Stanley Belmont, owner and operator of the Hudson Funeral Home business, tried to decide what his best course of action should be. Sitting beside him in the cubby-hole of a room reserved for questioning suspects was his lawyer, Patrick Randall. For the time being, Stanley had not said a word, choosing to take his Charter-guaranteed right to remain silent.
Detective Constable Patterson looked steadily at Stanley. "We know you had a legitimate reason for getting Valerie Stanton's medical death certificate. But why did you request a copy of Lisa Stillman's death certificate, Mr. Belmont?"
"You don't have to answer her question," Randall advised his client.
"What did you do with the copy of Lisa Stillman's medical death certificate?" asked Patterson.
"He's not answering that one, either," said Randall.
"Fine," Patterson said, splaying her hands on the surface of the table between them. "Look, we know you're not in this alone, Stanley. We know someone either asked you or coerced you into putting in that request for Stillman's certificate. You're the one with the credentials as a funeral home director to legally request such a document. Anyone else would need to be either a family member or they'd do it through a court order, and that sort of thing. The only reason someone would want that document at this point would be to file a claim on a life insurance policy. Money is a very good motive for murder."
"Murder?!" Stanley yelped, forgetting his resolve to remain silent. "I didn't kill Lisa Stillman."
"But maybe you hired the man who did," Detective Kavanaugh broke in.
Stanley shook his head. "I did no such thing!"
"We know about your gambling debts, Stanley," Patterson said. "You and Tanner Gunn are pretty well known out there for your love of the illegal poker tables. He roped you in to that underground scene, didn't he?"
"Don't answer that," Randall warned.
Patterson narrowed her eyes.
"Detectives, this is a fishing expedition," Randall said impatiently. "Either you charge my client with something, or you let him go."
"We're getting to that. We know you're in the hole for a cool 1.2 million to a certain loan shark in Calgary," Patterson said to Stanley.
"Who's this loan shark?" Randall asked sharply, eyebrows instantly pinching together.
"Oh, someone your pal Tanner Gunn introduced you to, isn't that right, Mr. Belmont?" Kavanaugh asked. "Does the name 'Mick Osbourne' sound familiar, Mr. Belmont?"
Stanley's face went pale.
"You don't have to answer any of that, Stan," Randall repeated his predictable line yet again.
"Mick Osbourne told our Calgary counterparts you've borrowed heavily from him on a number of occasions," Patterson said. "You've been racking up the debt. Mick's enforcers are vicious. Were you being threatened?"
Stanley's eyes swept over to his counsel.
"Did Tanner Gunn ask you to request Lisa Stillman's medical death certificate?" Patterson asked. "Did he promise to get Mick's guys to back off if you did?"
"Um... I'd like a private conference with my lawyer now, please," Stanley murmured weakly after a period of dead silence.
"Granted," Patterson said. She and Kavanaugh got up from their seats and left their suspect alone with his counsel.
***
Chief Parker was waiting for Patterson and Kavanaugh when they reappeared in the bullpen.
"How's the interview with Stanley Belmont going?" he asked.
"I think we've got him," Patterson answered. "He's asked for some private time with his counsel."
"He hasn't admitted anything yet," Kavanaugh said, being more cautious. "But he's definitely spooked."
"Think he's going to spill what he knows?" Chief Parker asked.
"Hopefully," Patterson said. "Because he's definitely not going to want to be the one to take the fall for a murder conspiracy charge."
"He won't if he knows what's good for him," Parker commented. "Good work, you too. We'll see if his lawyer talks some sense into him."
"Okay, since we've been away dealing with Belmont, let's get up to speed. Where are we with our dead hitman's case?" Kavanaugh now asked.
Detective Benoit looked up when he heard this question.
"As you know, Earl McCann's phone was all busted up, so we've taken the SIM card out and popped it into another phone on the off chance the sender will try to get in touch again, but so far, nothing," he said.
"Then maybe it's time we went on the offensive," Parker suggested. "Can you try reaching out to him?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, sir," Benoit answered. "The call history shows there were never any outgoing calls. It might be a giveaway if we try to make contact."
Parker considered this. "You could be right..."
"Hold on," Benoit said excitedly. "Someone is calling right now. ID is blocked. It could be the middle man."
Kavanaugh raced over to help his colleague with setting up a trace.
"All right. Accept the call, Benoit," Parker advised.
Benoit tapped the screen to answer. Before he could say a word, the mysterious caller barged ahead without greeting.
"Hey, remember those two loose ends I told you about? They've still not been taken care of!" the voice barked menacingly. "The client is pissed. I told you on Saturday those had to be taken care of ASAP. You are still in Hudson, right? I told you the client said to stick around, didn't I?"
Benoit did not know if he should chance a reply. "Uh-huh," he eventually mumbled.
"You're makin' me look bad. Do what you're being paid to do!"
The line went dead.
"Did we get him?" asked Parker.
"No," replied a disappointed Kavanaugh. "Whoever this is, he's still using a burner phone. GPS and location services have been disabled. Best we can do is triangulate off the closest cell tower."
"How close can you get us?
"The call pinged off a cell tower around 7th Avenue and 8th Street in the downtown Calgary area," answered Kavanaugh. "He could be anywhere within a three city block radius."
"Get Detective Prescott over in Calgary on the line," Parker ordered. "They'll have the resources and the manpower. We need to find this guy before he disappears."
***
Calgary Homicide Detective James Prescott listened intently to what Chief Parker was telling him. He mobilized his teams as soon as he learned of the active cell phone signal potentially belonging to the individual involved in the hiring of a professional killer.
"Do you have any likely suspects on your radar in the 'middle man' department, Prescott?"Parker asked.
"A few come to mind," Prescott responded, as he and four separate groups of plainclothes detectives converged on the area in downtown Calgary that Kavanaugh had identified.
The light rail passenger trains traversing 7th Avenue that hummed along at 15-minute intervals at this hour of the evening were sparsely filled. Prescott said a silent prayer their quarry did not decide to hop on one of those trains while they searched for him. The man could quietly disappear into any quadrant of the city if they allowed that to happen.
Prescott and two others now crossed those very tracks on foot. "Heading north on 8th Street," he spoke into his concealed comm. "Approaching the Dominion Centre Building with the pharmacy, Tim Hortons, and the Community Corrections Centre."
"Copy," the dispatcher's voice spoke in acknowledgement.
The Tim Hortons franchise caught Prescott's attention, or rather, one of the patrons did. The detective continued walking for a few more paces before silently indicating to his two colleagues he wanted to double back. They understood immediately what he was planning. There was only a pair of street-level doors being used as an entrance and an exit. One of Prescott's colleagues named Koch casually took up his position near that exit should the suspect try to bolt.
"Possible suspect sighted," Prescott whispered into his comm. "William Ulrich. He's in the Tim Hortons."
Chief Parker and his team in Hudson, also linked in to Prescott's feed, heard this announcement. All waited with bated breath to hear how this would go down.
Prescott and the second cop named Diaz swung open the entrance door and made their way inside. The aroma of brewing coffee, sugary baked goods and toasting sandwiches wafted in the tiny space that seated maybe 40 at capacity. The man they were after sat alone in a booth situated right up against one of the windows by the exit door. Prescott and Diaz ignored him for the time being and instead made for the lineup as if they were going to order something.
Known on the streets as 'Billy the Bulldog', it was not a stretch to see why ex-felon and known middle-man William Ulrich had been saddled with that nickname. Small in stature, compact in build and with a prominent underbite, Billy had spiteful black eyes and a mercurial temper.
Prescott pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Benoit.
- Call the number now.
Benoit responded from his desk in the Hudson police headquarters.
- Copy. Calling now.
Prescott turned slightly to see Billy pull out his phone. "What the hell are you calling me for?" he snapped.
Benoit terminated the call without saying a word.
The 'Bulldog' scowled at his screen, put it away, and went back to sipping his double-double*. It was the confirmation Prescott was looking for. He left the queue and made a beeline for his suspect with Diaz right behind.
"Billy, Billy, Billy. Little late for a caffeine fix, wouldn't you say?"
Billy jerked his head up at the sound of Prescott's chiding voice. He saw the two plainclothes cops, instinctively recognized them for what they were, and realised he was cornered. A look of wild panic crossed his features.
"Don't make a scene," Prescott said gruffly, shoving Billy back into his seat as he tried to stand up.
"This is harassment," Billy howled. "I was just minding my own business here."
"Sure you were, Billy," Diaz said, sliding into the seat opposite the others in the booth.
"I had a meeting earlier with my parole officer over in Corrections," Billy said, jutting his generous chin in the general direction of the Corrections Centre. "You can call and ask him. Now I'm just having some coffee and a bite to eat."
"Must have been a really long meeting, Billy," Prescott said.
"Yeah, the Corrections Centre has been closed for hours, Billy," Diaz added.
"So time flies!" Billy protested. "What do you guys want, anyway?"
"Oh, you're coming with us," Diaz said.
"What for?!" Billy yapped.
"See, you're under arrest for suspicion of soliciting murder," Prescott said, pulling Billy up and handcuffing him while informing him of his rights. "Let's go."
***
Heartland – Ranch House
Lyndy was starting to nod off in her booster seat. Despite the afternoon nap, it was now long past her usual bedtime and sleep was beckoning.
"I'll take her back to the loft and put her to bed, Amy," Ty offered. "Plus, I've got some paperwork I've been neglecting that I should take care of."
"Thank you," Amy said, giving both her husband and her child a kiss. "See you when I finish up here."
"Goodnight, everyone," Ty said, giving a short wave to them all while picking up his sleepy daughter, cradling her head against his shoulder and supporting her back.
The rest of them said their goodbyes and watched Ty depart with Lyndy.
They lingered at the table for about a half hour longer, making idle chat about nothing of any significance until the travellers' exhaustion began to take over. Lou noticed, and politely suggested it was time to head over to the Dude Ranch.
Rachel yawned her assent. "I'm ready to turn into a pumpkin," she said.
"Same here," Ben said. "Thanks for the meal, Amy. See you tomorrow."
"Yes, thanks, Amy," Rachel said. "You've all been wonderful. I can see why Lisa loved you all so much... and why she loved being here."
"You're welcome," Amy said. "See you tomorrow."
***
The dog was nowhere to be seen. He heard through the grapevine about the possible case of strychnine poisoning, and he patted himself on the back for that one. Stillman's sister and nephew had spent dinner at the ranch house, but the elder Fleming sister had just taken them somewhere; maybe to that hole of a place she called "Heartland Equestrian Connections" like it was some five-star resort. He was slightly surprised they were even using the place since the news earlier that day said some dead guy was found nearby yesterday, but he figured that was none of his business.
The old man still had not come back, so that meant another possible threat was cleared from his list of concerns. Now all he had to do was make sure he could get to Borden in the barn office, then he could focus on Dr. Cardinal in the clinic. Things were approaching a critical juncture now, but there was no turning back. He could no longer let them live when the chance remained they could identify him, no matter how remote that possibility.
He readied his weapon, slipping it into his jacket breast pocket once again. His aim had not been as perfect as he had wanted when he fired at the Stillman woman, but in the end it had not mattered. She was dead, and she would never again be talking about who might have shot her.
I won't mess up this time, he vowed, picturing in his mind how he would take out Borden. He would shoot him, then trash the barn office, paying special attention to the medicine cabinet. Make it look like an attempted robbery gone bad by a desperate junkie. Nope. I definitely won't miss this target, and the same will go for Cardinal.
***
With the dishes washed and put away, Amy sat tiredly in the ranch house kitchen. She entertained the thought of brewing a cup of tea, but decided she should just head back to the loft and decompress there. She was about to do just that when the kitchen telephone extension rang.
It was getting to be a little late for anyone to be calling since it was already past nine o'clock, but Amy nevertheless checked the call display.
HUDSON POLICE
She picked up the phone right away.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Good evening, this is Chief Jim Parker. Is Lou Fleming available?"
"Sorry, Chief," Amy said, "she's stepped out for a little while."
"I see," Jim said. "I was hoping to talk to her and provide an update about the body we found by the Dude Ranch. But I'm glad I caught you at the house, too."
"Why is that?" Amy asked.
"We're convinced the dead man we found was hired to kill Valerie Stanton, and we're almost certain he was the one who attacked Lisa and assaulted Jack in the hospital. We found evidence on a cell phone belonging to him—photos of Val and Lisa. The timeline of Val's shooting and the incident at the hospital line up with when the photos were sent."
"That's crazy," Amy said, blood running cold at this revelation.
"There's more, I'm afraid. Your husband and Dr. Cardinal also seem to have been targeted," Parker said.
Amy almost could not believe her ears as she listened to what the chief was saying. His call that evening had been most unexpected, as was the information he was now sharing.
"The latest pictures he was sent before he died were of Ty and Scott, so it's highly likely he was being paid to kill them, too."
"Are you sure?" Amy asked, her heart skipping a beat as this message sank in. When will this nightmare end? "But who was he?"
"We've been in touch with another RCMP detachment about that," Parker said, not yet wanting to disclose what they discovered to a civilian. "I can't share those details about his identity at this time, but the police in Calgary have the man who sent the pictures in custody right now. Unfortunately, he's just a middle man. Even so, he's refusing to talk right now about who's behind all this."
"Chief," Amy said, trying to calm her nerves, "is my husband still in danger?"
"Until we know for certain who initiated the hits, we can't be sure," Parker admitted. "My advice would be to take whatever precautions you deem necessary. I unfortunately can't spare or justify the manpower for a protection detail at this time based simply on broad speculation. That said, I have to say I am still personally worried. If this dead guy truly was contracted to take out your husband and Dr. Cardinal, chances are whoever did the contracting might simply hire someone else to get the job done. We should not assume the threat has passed. Stay on the alert while we work on it."
At these words, Amy sent a furtive glance out the window. The security lights illuminated the expansive yard. She glanced up at the loft above the barn, suddenly thinking how very exposed it was. The distinct lack of a secure door leading to her living space with her husband and their child was troubling. If someone breached the barn door during the night, it would be very easy for that person to come creeping up the stairs unnoticed and unhindered.
"Chief, thank you for telling me," Amy said, having already made up her mind what she was going to do.
After she ended the call, Amy quickly made her way to the barn. Ty looked up from his paperwork as soon as he heard her. "What's going on?" he asked, confused by her anxious appearance.
"I just spoke with Chief Parker," Amy said hurriedly. "Ty, he was calling about the dead guy they found by the Dude Ranch... he said they think someone contracted him to kill Val and Lisa. They found Val and Lisa's pictures on his phone."
"You've gotta be kidding me," Ty said, staring at her, mouth agape.
"No," Amy replied grimly. "That's not all. Chief Parker said there were also pictures sent recently to the dead man's phone of you and Scott. I don't like how vulnerable we are in the barn loft. I think we should all stay in the house tonight and lock the doors, or at least until Chief Parker and his team get to the bottom of this. I'm packing an overnight bag for me and Lyndy; you should do the same."
"All right, you go ahead with Lyndy. Has Chief Parker contacted Scott?"
"I don't know," Amy said with a shake of her head.
"I'll call him," Ty said, rising to his feet. "Let me finish up here, and I'll join you in the house soon."
"Okay," Amy said, and kissed him quickly before heading up the stairs. After filling a bag with clothes and other necessities for herself and her child, Amy gathered a sleeping Lyndy in her arms, hefted the bag onto her free shoulder, and made her way back down.
***
He watched as she walked at a brisk clip across the yard from the house to the barn. He had been about to make his move, but stopped in his tracks when he saw this. The vet was no longer alone now, much to his frustration. He would have to wait to see what happened next. Had he missed his opportunity? He decided to wait a little longer. His patience was rewarded when about ten minutes later, she reappeared, this time with the kid in her arms and a bag on her shoulder. He watched as she nearly ran back into the house. A vile smile spread across his face. The vet was finally by himself in the barn! It was now, or never. Still, he waited for a few minutes to be sure she was not coming back. He wanted no witnesses. But ultimately, if she did come back, and if she interrupted what he was about to do, he had no qualms about ending her on the spot, too.
***
Scott, having just got off the phone with Chief Parker, was nevertheless grateful for Ty's call.
"It's crazy," Scott said to Ty. "But I think I'll be okay at the clinic tonight. The police station is a couple blocks away, anyway, right? Nobody could be that stupid to try something with the cops so close."
"Right," Ty said, hoping Scott actually was right about that. "Be careful, man."
"I will," Scott said. "You, too."
***
Amy knocked on her niece's bedroom door.
"Come in," Georgie answered.
"Georgie, we're staying in the house tonight," Amy announced upon opening the door.
"Uh, okay," Georgie said in surprise. She stared at Amy whose body language spoke of pent-up tension. "What's going on?"
"I just spoke with Adam's dad," Amy explained. "That dead guy you two found? It turns out he might have been hired to kill Val and Lisa. The police found their pictures on his phone."
"What?!" Georgie exclaimed.
"But that's not all," Amy said. "They also found pictures of Ty and Scott, so I'm thinking we'll all be a lot safer together here in the house until the police figure out what's going on."
"You know, you guys really do need to get a door with a lock for your loft," Georgie said.
"Yeah, yeah," Amy muttered. "I've put Lyndy down in Katie's room for now and Ty and I will be in my old room."
"Okay. I really wish Jack and Tim were here," Georgie said wistfully.
"Me, too," Amy said. "But for now I'm just going to sit in Katie's room and be with Lyndy until Ty arrives." She was grateful her younger niece was still staying with Peter in Vancouver.
"And Lou had better get back here soon from settling Rachel and Ben in at the Dude Ranch," Georgie added.
"Maybe you should call her," Amy suggested.
"Yeah. Okay, I will," Georgie said, pulling out her cell phone to do just that.
***
He watched for any sign she would be back. When five minutes passed, he decided the coast was clear. It was time to finish this. It was time to clean up the mess for which he had only himself to blame. And after handling this job, the last item on the list was Scott Cardinal, but making that one also look like a burglary gone wrong would not be too much of a problem either, he figured. He crept out of the shadows towards the barn, hand inside his jacket breast pocket, ready to pull out the pistol.
***
"Mom, you need to get back here," Georgie said.
Lou could not mistake the urgency in her daughter's voice.
"Why, what's going on?" asked Lou, who had just finally bid goodnight to Ben and Rachel in their respective cabins.
"Adam's dad thinks the dead guy we found is the one who killed Val and Lisa," she said.
"Val and Lisa?" cried Lou.
"But Mom, there's more," Georgie continued. "Chief Parker says Ty and Scott could also be targets. Amy just brought Lyndy to the house and Ty's coming, too. They're all going to stay in here tonight. For safety."
"Um, okay, that's a good idea," Lou said, already approaching the SUV. "I'll be there soon—"
"Hang on a second, Mom," Georgie interjected, "Amy's trying to tell me something."
"It's okay, honey," Lou said, "you go ahead. I'll just hang up now."
Lou ended the call without waiting to hear Georgie's reply.
***
He could hear the vet scuffling about up in the loft. That was fine. He would just wait until he came back down. Then, bam! He would shoot him right between the eyes. He would never know what hit him.
***
Ty noticed Amy had already packed both their toothbrushes and toothpaste as he made one last sweep of the loft to make sure he had not forgotten anything essential he might need for an overnight stay in the ranch house. He swung his duffle bag over his shoulder, unlatched the baby gate, and began to head downstairs.
***
His ears picked up the sound of footfalls. Borden is coming down, he thought, feeling his pulse start to race with excitement. He slid the gun from his breast pocket and steadied his hand, pointing the piece up at the staircase in anticipation of his target's appearance.
***
"Drop the gun and step away from my husband!" Amy's command was crisp and unwavering.
The interloper paused, arm still outstretched, weapon aimed up at the nonplussed Ty.
"Drop the gun," Amy ordered again, measuring every word, her own arms steady as she held Jack's rifle on the man threatening her husband. "I'm warning you: I know how to use this, and the police are on the way."
The balaclava-clad, would-be killer turned slightly to face Amy. He seemed to be considering his options. Perhaps he doubted Amy's skill with the rifle and figured he would be able to carry out his deadly task. Or perhaps he knew very well that she could kill him with one pull of the trigger. His shoulder eventually drooped, seemingly in submission, followed by a lowering of his pistol.
Ty let out the breath he was unaware he had been holding.
In a flash, the stranger twisted away from Amy and once again raised his weapon to Ty. An ear-splitting blast ripped through the barn office. A cry of agony escaped the lips of the masked stranger. He stumbled to the floor, clutching at his shoulder. A few horses neighed in surprise as the explosive ka-boom echoed through their stalls.
Ty dropped his bag and sprang from the steps towards the downed man. He kicked aside the small pistol, whirled around, and drove his foot into the small of his back. "Stay down," he growled.
Knowing the other weapon was far out of reach and Ty's sturdy boot was keeping the villain pinned, Amy crept forward and yanked the balaclava from his head.
"Jesse!" she gasped upon recognizing him.
Jesse Stanton craned his neck and glared back up at her sideways, eyes revealing a mix of shock and torment. Shock that Amy had carried through with her spoken threat; torment due to the bullet that had torn through his shoulder.
"That was you that day, wasn't it?" Ty snarled in an accusatory tone. "Riding your Ducati when Scott nearly plowed into you. You shot Lisa!"
Jesse could not deny it. "Yeah," he muttered, not bothering to meet Ty's infuriated gaze.
"Did you also go to the hospital to finish the job? Huh?!" Ty exclaimed.
"No, that wasn't m-me. Someone else." Jesse mumbled.
"You're lying," Ty said. "You went in there, you snuffed out her life, and you escaped on your bike again."
"No, I swear that wasn't me!" protested Jesse. "I wasn't anywhere near the hospital."
Ty clamped his mouth shut. Jesse seemed to be telling the truth.
"Let me up, will you?" he begged.
Ty considered the request. Every bone in his body wanted to continue keeping him jammed squarely to the floor, but mercy prevailed. "Okay, I'm letting you up, but I'm warning you Amy won't hesitate to shoot again if you try anything. Understand?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jesse grumbled.
Ty lifted his foot carefully. Jesse scooted himself up and scrambled against the barn wall like a rat being let out of a trap. He pressed his hand to his bloodied shoulder, wincing in pain as he did so.
"If it wasn't you who attacked Lisa and Jack at the hospital, then who was it?" Ty asked.
"I don't know," he replied, not meeting Ty's gaze. "It just wasn't me, all right?"
"You might not have gone after her in the hospital, but you're still the reason she ended up there in the first place," Amy said angrily, thinking of what Chief Parker told her about the pictures on the dead man's phone. "You're the reason someone else got to her. You're the reason she's dead."
"Whatever," Jesse mumbled.
"After all these years, Jesse," Amy said. "Our families. You know us! You-your mom! She and my grandpa and Lisa—they all knew each other for years. They were friends!"
"Don't even start, Amy!" Jesse snapped contemptuously. "'Friends'? My mother—my mother hated Lisa Stillman."
He caught the expression of astonishment on their faces at this revelation. "That's right," he continued, enjoying this last taunt he could needle them with. "Oh sure, she was friendly to her face in public. But… You should have heard the things my mother said about Lisa when she got into her liquor—some friend! And I… I hated my mother."
"So, did you kill her, too?" Amy ventured to ask, her voice brittle.
"No," Jesse replied through gritted teeth. "But I sure didn't shed any actual tears when I heard she was dead."
"You're lying," Ty countered as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You were the only one who knew for sure when she took Herring out for that ride. You're the one who reported her missing. You're the one who told the police where they should conduct their search. You purposely directed their search away from Lookout Point, didn't you?"
"Doesn't mean I'm the one who pulled that trigger," Jesse said with a leer, though he was still visibly in quite a bit of pain. "Wish I was, though. Briar Ridge… was supposed to be mine to run as I saw fit! She was supposed to… grrr… be living full-time in Florida. Instead, she just kept coming back here, hanging on, telling me what to do, interfering in my decisions... treating me like some clueless child! Gah! I actually thought I would be free of her when she had that s-second bout with the cancer, b-but she beat that, too."
Ty had heard enough. "Stop talking," he snarled. "You're making me sick listening to all your crap!"
Amy had also heard enough. She handed Ty the rifle. "The police should be here any minute. I'm going to go back to check on Lyndy and Georgie."
"How 'bout an ambulance?!" Jesse hollered desperately.
Amy ignored him as she scurried out the barn door, hoping Georgie was not too freaked out by the loud report of the rifle.
"How 'bout you shut up!" bellowed Ty, keeping the rifle trained just to the left of Jesse's ear. "You're lucky she didn't take off your head when she shot you."
"You-you're enjoying this, aren't you, Borden?" Jesse sniveled.
"No, I am not enjoying this," Ty hissed. "None of this is enjoyable. What did Lisa Stillman ever do to you? Was shooting her some kind of thrill-seeking game for you? Jealousy over Fairfield's success?"
"Borden… Your guesses are so cold, you… heh… make Antarctica feel like a sauna," Jesse laughed feebly.
"Do you have any idea what you've done to this family? What you've done to Jack?"
"That old m-man can die and go to h-hell," Jesse grunted, his teeth chattering now. "The w-way my mother pined away for him… even-even after he m-married Lisa… it was em-embarrassing… sickening… Dunno what she s-saw… He was nothing like m-my father…"
Ty noticed Jesse's shivering. What with the pain and blood loss, he was probably starting to go into shock. "Okay, just keep quiet now, all right?" Ty said, using a gentler voice he was surprised he was able to muster. "You don't want to bleed out here before the paramedics come."
"H-how 'bout some pain k-killers in the meantime, Borden?" Jesse asked with a lop-sided smile. "Y-you got some of the good stuff here, don't you?"
Ty glowered at Jesse. "I said keep quiet. You're not getting anything from me."
"Worth a try." Jesse gave a weak laugh, then finally shut his mouth.
After checking to ensure her niece and child were fine back at the house, and after hastily explaining why there had been a weapon discharged, Amy returned to the barn. "I have the 911 dispatcher on the line," she advised, holding her cell phone to her ear. "An ambulance is heading here, now."
The shrill whine of a police siren caught their attention next. Red and blue lights splashed brightly against the walls and reflected in the windows. The cruiser came to a halt in front of the barn. Car doors opened and slammed shut; footsteps crunched the dirt and gravel.
"Everybody okay in there?"
Ty recognized the voice of Chief Parker; Detective Kavanaugh was right behind the senior officer. Jesse's head sank to his chest in utter defeat at their appearance.
"Chief! Jesse just tried to shoot Ty," Amy said, pointing at the weapon. "That's the gun right there."
Chief Parker looked on the barn floor and saw what he recognized as a Raven MP-25. He bent to retrieve it, gingerly picking it up with a gloved hand by the trigger guard.
"And um, I just shot Jesse," Amy admitted, noticing for the first time her hands were shaking.
"He, uh, he also just confessed to shooting Lisa out on the road that day, Chief," Ty said quietly as he handed over Jack's rifle to Parker's other gloved hand.
"You mean he confessed to killing her," Amy uttered furiously, feeling an overwhelming sense of grief and anger cascading over her. "He's the reason she ended up in the hospital in the first place. He's the reason that guy was able to get into her room and–and—"
She could not continue. All the stresses and tragedies of the past few weeks seemed to descend on her at that moment, crushing her with their weight. Tears she had not known that were still in reserve spilled out. Ty's own eyes clouded as his heart ached for all the losses the family had endured. He crossed over and gathered her up into his arms.
"And she's not dead," Parker announced.
He was met with stunned silence from them while Kavanaugh knelt to take Jesse into custody.
"What are you sayingؙ—Lisa's not dead?" Amy gasped, gazing now at the senior officer.
"H-how?" Ty asked shaking his head. "I thought she..."
"That's what we needed everyone to think," Kavanaugh said, being careful not to jostle his prisoner too harshly. "Well, almost everyone."
"I can't believe it!" Amy exclaimed in jubilation. "She's really alive?"
"Yes, really," Parker said. His face broke into a wide smile, pleased he could finally bring some good news to this long-suffering family. "She's still in pretty rough shape, mind you, but your dad and your grandfather are with her right now at the hospital under police protection."
"This is incredible!" Ty said. "But why make us think she didn't survive?"
"All in good time, Ty," Parker said calmly. "Our investigation is still on-going, but catching Mr. Stanton red-handed here tonight has certainly blown things wide open for us, and we expect to be making another arrest in Calgary very soon."
"Who?!" Jesse dared to ask.
"Wouldn't you like to know," Kavanaugh quipped dryly. "But maybe you'd like to guess?"
Jesse pursed his lips.
"Not even one guess?" Kavanaugh goaded. "Aw, you're spoiling my fun."
But Jesse refused to speak.
"Jesse Stanton, you're under arrest for attempted murder," Kavanaugh said. "It is my duty to inform you that you have the right to retain and instruct counsel of your choice in private and without delay. Before you decide to answer any questions concerning this investigation, you may call a lawyer of your choosing or get free advice from Duty Counsel. If you wish to contact Legal Aid duty counsel I can provide you with a telephone number and a telephone will be made available to you. Do you understand?"
"Yeah," Jesse mumbled. "I wanna call my lawyer."
"Fine," Kavanaugh said. "We'll make sure that happens while we wait for the ambulance to get here. Let's go."
Kavanaugh started shuffling his prisoner off towards the barn's open door.
"Amy? Ty?" Lou's voiced called out.
"In here, Lou!" Amy called back. She was so wrapped up in what had just happened, she did not even hear when her sister pulled up in the SUV.
Lou jogged over to the entrance only to stop in her tracks as Kavanaugh hauled Jesse out. "I thought I heard a gunshot just now—" She stared at the arrestee and his bloodied shoulder. Now she chanced a look inside the barn and saw Jim holding the rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other.
"We're okay, Lou," Amy said to assure her sister. "But, um, Jesse just tried to kill Ty. I shot him with Grandpa's rifle."
"You!" Lou cried. She glanced back over her shoulder at Jesse, who was being made to sit inside the cruiser. "Jesse came to kill Ty? Why?"
"Because he didn't want any more witnesses around who could ID him as Lisa's shooter," Parker said.
"Jesse shot Lisa?!"
Parker nodded. "We'll have to wait on the ballistics to confirm," he said, indicating the Raven he was holding. "But he's already admitted it."
"And Lou," Amy said, brimming with joy, "Lisa's alive. She survived the attack in the hospital."
"Lisa's alive?" Lou repeated, dumbfounded.
Parker nodded, a smile still pasted on his face. "I'm sorry we had to do that to all of you, but between my department and the Calgary police who were investigating that attack, we agreed it was the best option to keep her safe until we caught all the ones responsible."
"And have you caught all the ones responsible?" Lou asked tentatively, looking once again over at the cruiser where Jesse Stanton was bring granted a privileged call with his lawyer.
"We're close," Parker admitted. "This thing is still in motion, but we're hoping to have everyone in custody by tomorrow. Arresting Mr. Stanton here tonight is already a big win for us."
"He probably also poisoned Remi," Amy said, as all the pieces were starting to fall into place in her mind. "That's why he came over to visit the other day."
"Your dog was poisoned?" Parker asked in surprise.
Amy nodded.
"Strychnine," Ty explained. "We don't keep that at Heartland. She's going to make it, but we were really concerned for a while there."
Lou put her hands to her temples. "This is too much. I think I'm getting a headache."
The whine of an ambulance and another police cruiser filled the night air.
"That would be the paramedics for Mr. Stanton and my backup officers," Chief Parker said. "It's going to be a long night while we get everything straightened out here."
***
Canadian Rockies Life Insurance — Calgary Branch
5:00 a.m.
The young woman switched on the desk lamp at the workstation. Using the overhead lights, especially at this early hour, had the chance of attracting unwanted attention, and she needed secrecy for what she was about to do.
Using the credentials she had spied long ago from an unwitting co-worker, she logged into the company mainframe and accessed the Policies database. She quickly located the one she had specifically come to find:
LISA RENÉE STILLMAN
Hurriedly, she began entering the required data to kickstart the claims process. Now that she had the medical death certificate information, things could finally proceed.
Date of Filing:
The field automatically populated with the current date of May 9, 2019.
Policy Holder:
Here, she input the name of the dummy corporation she was instructed to use in this scenario.
Date of Death:
She consulted the copy of the certificate and typed "03/05/2019".
Place of Death:
"South Calgary Health Campus".
Cause of Death:
"Cardiopulmonary cessation".
Next, she entered the certificate number and pressed ENTER to continue.
When presented with the options for the payout, she immediately selected "Lump Sum" over the other choices. She hovered the cursor over the "Process Now" button and clicked on it. As soon as she did so, the overhead lights glowed to life in the room without warning, causing her to gasp in surprise.
"Getting an early start to the day, Ms. Haywood?"
Tessa Haywood jumped at the unexpected question. She swiveled around in her chair to see Kavanaugh and Patterson standing a few cubicles behind her. Her eyes darted to the exit. Calgary detectives Prescott and Diaz guarded that escape route. Tessa guessed right away why they were all there. She spun back to the desktop monitor. There was nothing she could do now about the Stillman policy, but the rest of them... Tessa tried to access the policy database again.
"Hudson Police! Step away from the workstation, Ms. Haywood," Patterson said loudly.
Tessa ignored Patterson. She had to eliminate any evidence of the fraudulent policies for all those other members of that investors' group before these officers could uncover them.
"I said: Step away from the workstation, Tessa," Patterson commanded again. She began her approach with Kavanaugh following.
Tessa's level of panic skyrocketed.
"Stop what you're doing now!" Patterson ordered. "Tessa Haywood, you're under arrest for insurance fraud and conspiracy to commit murder—"
"They made me do it! They made me do it! Tanner and Jesse made me!" Tessa screeched desperately, perhaps hoping this admission would grant her some kind of immediate leniency.
Patterson nevertheless yanked Tessa up from the chair and secured her wrists in handcuffs, giving her a quick pat-down in the process.
"You need not say anything," Patterson intoned gruffly, knowing she had to legally issue this warning. "You have nothing to hope from any promise or favour and nothing to fear from any threat, whether or not you say anything. Anything you say may be used as evidence. You have the right to retain and instruct counsel in private without delay. Do you understand?"
Tessa merely nodded her head.
"I need you to answer either 'yes' or 'no', Ms. Haywood," Patterson said.
"Yes, I understand," Tessa said, barely above a whisper.
"Good. Let's go."
***
*double-double: How you order a coffee with two creams and two sugars at Tim Hortons
Chapter 11: Sing Me to Heaven
#heartland#heartland fanfiction#my fanfiction#bad business#a heartland murder mystery#chapter 10#there the vultures will gather#chief parker#georgie fleming morris#adam parker#lou fleming#jack bartlett#lisa stillman#tim fleming#amy fleming#ty borden#jesse stanton#wyatt#lyndy borden
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The Entente, Ians, and Shakespeare
entente - noun - a friendly understanding or informal alliance between states or factions (Google).
Lately, the entente has populated the domestic as well as foreign news. Due to the unmitigated wrath of Hurricane Ian, two normally politically unfriendly factions–Democrats and Republicans (namely President Biden and Florida governor Ron DeSantis)–are expeditiously seeing eye-to-eye in terms of relief funding: Biden being the giver, DeSantis being the receiver of the dollars. Ironic as it may seem, natural disasters affecting human life and interactions tend to motivate ententes albeit the human equivalent, war, often causes the opposite: strife among the warring factions as well as neighboring states that are forced to take sides. And then, there is the smallest, most personal entente, that which is made between friends or relatives, that might also prove pernicious or perilous.
Those of you who follow me (both of you) know that I belong to a book club of former colleagues. For October's selection, I, whose turn it was, chose Ian (no relation to the hurricane mentioned above) McEwan's Booker Prize-winning novel Amsterdam that involves a pact between two close friends, Clive, a well-known classical composer, and Vernon, a respected journalist. At the novel's entrance, the men interface at the sparse funeral of their mutual lover, Molly, who at a relatively young age, contracted an unnamed, fatal disease similar to ALS. As he fears a similar fate, self-possessed Clive decides to involve Vernon in a bleak entente: should he fall victim to a terminal disease, Vernon must agree to call in the British equal of Dr. Kevorkian to end Clive's life a.s.a.p. to prevent any unwanted suffering. Eventually, a reluctant Vernon does decide to sign the dotted line of agreement, but only if Clive consents to do the same for him. As Drama will have it, at the turning point, the two find each other in a political debate, which does irreparable damage to their friendship. The end, as you might have already guessed, is far from agreeable. In fact, it is a wonderful example of situational irony. (I'd love to spoil things and tell you what happens, but I'm hoping you'll read the book, which is under 200 pages and highly digestible, but probably not while imbibing champagne, a wine that figures into the plot.)
When a pact of any kind is mentioned, particularly one involving money, I tend to find the nearest exit as soon as possible. William Shakespeare's "Neither a borrower nor lender be/For loan loses both itself and friend" (from Hamlet) is the one quote that has stayed embedded in my memory for good reason. Ententes involving the loan often turn sour as the borrower, who is often a friend, forgets he is the borrower and usually absconds with the funds, forgetting the original terms. Which is why when push comes to shove and I feel the urge of altruism or am backed into a corner, I tend to give food rather than cash. Why? It is a pure need rather than a want. Most people who consistently rely on relations or acquaintances rather than a legitimate bank to make ends meet are usually guilty of poor decision-making regarding their own lives. Rather than learn from their mistakes, they keep making them, knowing that they can always depend on the lender, the friend or relative, to be at their beck and call with wallet open and the willingness to be forever generous. I am sure that if you are reading this, you know exactly what I mean as you have "been there, done that" and couldn't afford to buy the T-shirt after it was all over.
The takeaway: There is nothing wrong with giving, but there are ways of being magnanimous without enabling. An honest entente need not involve anything controversial that might test the love between you and someone close to you. It could be as easy as, "The next time you find yourself short of cash, give me a call, and I'll cook you dinner." Feel free to borrow the line. It's on me :).
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Sometimes I wonder about Booker and privilege a lot.
Of all the members of the guard, he is the only one who gets to go through life with the straight white man privilege. Who can walk into any country, any part of the world and be, well if not accepted, at least treated with caution. White people inherently have that advantage.
Now, Andy and Nicky share it too yes. But Andy has years and years of sexism to contend with. Of being forced to conform to the norms of a woman, of being thought weaker, of being treated as eye candy by lecherous men. For her, I imagine being captured by the unsavory always included the threat of rape or sexual abuse. And Nicky can find acceptance easier than her as long as he chooses to hide his love, as long as he distances himself from Joe and since thats antithetical to who he is as a person, it will grate his soul. His acceptance into white society comes at a price that he most often feels is too high. So his privilege comes at a cost that grants him awareness of it each minute.
I hardly need to talk about the multiple ways these issues intersect for Joe and Quynh when they attempt life in the western world at any given point in history. I'm not even talking about direct racist abuse and hate crimes. But day to day life. Restaurants and inns that either refuse to serve them or demand entry through separate doors, restrooms that are divided, public transportation issues, buying power being affected because too much money would raise questions of whether it's stolen money, that kind of thing. Problems coming up just because of their skin, even without the gender and sexual orientation.
Nile's experience with racism and sexism is subtler as all modern day issues are, but it is still very much present. Micro aggressions and purposefully designed power imbalance cloaked under the guise of a fair and upstanding world that left its ugly past in the last millennium and chooses to treat issues as things that magically vanished one day in the 20th century. Especially with America insisting it neither has a racist history nor is it anything but the land of the free.
Booker has no concept of dealing with discrimination in anyway but tangentially and no matter what, no matter how empathetic an individual is or how much one tries, it is not the same. The lack of privilege is the only way to fully comprehend its absence.
Which is another reason why I personally find it very hard to understand and sympathize with the 'nobody knows what it feels like, nobody understands' ideology he has. I accept the presence of his mental health issues and I very much find them valid, be it crippling depression or extreme alcoholism. But it still reeks of 'my suffering is unique' vibes to me and demonstrates a lack of understanding of the struggles the others face.
And sure, suffering is not a competition and everyone has pain tolerance to different degrees and Booker might just be one of those people who doesn't cope with it well. But his woe is me, my pain is beyond your comprehension is just... Idk suspect as hell.
Like, yes, it was not his intention to hurt the others, the set up at the start was only to give proof. He knows the risks of exposing their secret better than anyone though, since he came to them post the loss of Quynh and has heard their deepest fear. But he still went ahead with it, like did he think a big time pharmaceutical company in a capitalist world would want anything but profit at any expense?
His intention might not have been to hurt the others but making their worst fears come true shows, at the very least, a high degree of disregard and self centric attitude that comes with privilege.
Thoughts anyone?
#i often struggle to care about booker#not booker friendly I guess#he's super interesting to write as a grey character tho#someone tell me if this deserves an anti booker tag#the old guard#andromache#Quynh#yusuf al kaysani#nicolo di genova#sebastien le livre#nile freeman#white privilege#cishet privilege
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if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!
Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.
For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.
So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.
Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.
Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.
With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.
This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.
Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.
Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.
This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.
She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.
Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.
You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.
The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.
You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.
Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.
He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.
His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.
His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.
His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.
Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.
She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.
Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.
#if you dont want to use the refs#im really cool with it#just enjoy yourself buddy#pokemon#prof.peach#peach talks#prof.grey#pari#dotaku island#dotaku staff#PLEASE#just ask me if you dont know something#or feel i missed something in what i wrote
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Teaser: From my WIP Lover... JJ Maybank x Original Character ( Prologue ) .
Words: 554
Edited: Nope.
Author's note: I hyped myself and now I have a rough idea for a JJ fanfic that will take place in obx season 1. Criticism is appreciated as well as hype, and remember request are still open! Please ask anything!
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"And that one right there, the one with blond hair and on that Louis Vuitton's bandana is Maya Brady. She is a Kook that slams with us for unknown reasons, but not Kie's Kook type. Maya Brady has both her feet on Kook's life, but still chose to befriend a bunch of Pogue kids. She's cool, I guess. Kind, with an easy smile, fun to be with... We've been friends since the second grade, when she came into town. I think she used to live in The City. I don't know, I've never asked her.
Maya only cares about surfing, clothes, having fun, her family and her friends - us, who are kind of like her second family. She's JJ's best friend, although they may look like a couple. Always snuggling with each other, iugh. I think there's something going on between the two of them- But I'm sure JJ thinks a girl like Maya doesn't deserve a guy like him. Doesn't matter, anyways, 'cause Maya has a boyfriend, a not-so-kind Kook"
( John B. Routledge on Maya Brady. )
MAYA BRADY WAS LIKE a ray of sunshine in the Caribbean, blue-green waters. Easy going, funny, caring. Blonde, tanned and with brown eyes. Like a summer breeze on an extremely hot day. Like the waves crashing against the rocks of the Outer Banks. But most of all, Maya Brady was lucky.
Born into a good family, with a caring dad and a loving brother, with good money and a huge future ahead; Maya Brady was way luckier than half of the kids at the Outer Banks. Of course Maya was never meant to end on the Outer Banks, her life was in New York City and that was the way it was written. However, an old good friend of Robert Brady, Ward Cameron, convinced him to move to Paradise Island, where you either had two jobs or two houses. Guess which option the Bradys had.
Moving to Outer Banks was probably the best thing that could have possibly happened to Maya. She made friends quickly, starting with a really smart, kind of shy kid named Pope Heyward and ending in a Pogue group, with that boy and three other kids. Kiara Carrera had been a bit reluctant at first with having Maya join the group, those boys were her only friends and she wanted to protect them and keep them for herself, but Maya grew on her. John Booker Routedge quickly became friends with Maya, because he was just as friendly as she was. And JJ Maybank… he won Maya's heart over, flaunting Maya's best friend position. And now they were all family.
THAT SUMMER was supposed to be the best summer of their lives. They were going to have a good time, all the time. Fishing, laughing, doing nothing and absolutely everything at the same time. It was going to be wild.
But when a treasure ship enters the game, making a twist in their lives, they begin a treasure hunt that turns out to be way more dangerous than what they had expected. Now it was either getting the treasure or dying trying, especially when enemies began to arise from those who were friends. Oh, and also, Maya had to deal with love. Because what is sweeter and more dangerous than a teenager in love?
#jj maybank my beloved#jj maybank#jj maybank fic#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank obx#obx#outer banks#outer banks season 1#writing#my writing#teaser#sneak peak#rudy pankow
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A while back, @nilefreemans sent me a mistaken identify prompt for Kaysanova. PREDICTABLY, I’ve deleted the ask, and not saved it. Just trust me on that she sent it. I PROMISE.
I’m not taking a very “unique” direction here at all, BUT I still think I can make it cute.
He says.
ANYWAY
Tap. Scribble. Erase. Tap Tap. Scribble Scribble. Line. Curve. Erase. Tap Tap.
Joe was grateful, yet again, for his foresight and thought to always keep one of his small travel-sized sketchbooks on hand. Because, a glance to his phone happily told him it was just after three pm. Meaning he’d been waiting for just over an hour. And his phone had been silent since his last text.
I’m here. Light blue v-neck, black leather jacket. I picked the middle table. Easier to find.
Admittedly, the single ‘K’. He got as a response had not been encouraging.
(He had sent two more short texts, and gotten left on read. Also not encouraging)
Joe sighed to himself, figuring he could finish this sketch at the very least and not consider this a wasted afternoon. Deciding it would be far more fun to entertain himself by telling Booker what a spectacularly bad idea it had been to even arrange this ‘blind date’ in the first place.
“I swear he’s chill.” Booker had tried, once again to enamor Joe to the idea of having a date with his ‘slightly nerdy, meekish’ (Booker’s description) co-worker. “Man even just a hook up” (He’d ignored the face Joe made), “I dunno, something fun!”
Joe was thus considering what other ‘something fun’ ideas he could send Booker’s way, when he happens to glance across the cafe to a not-quite-but just starting to settle on the edge of frazzled looking man hovering at the edge of the counter-but not appearing to order anything.
If Booker’s description had been anything to go by, he was supposed to be looking for ‘one of those librarian types’. But Joe also told himself that Booker was absolutely, 100% flawed when it came to describing things, no matter how well-read the man actually was.
And this guy..this guy looked as though he’d just as soon as bite you as be approached, so Joe was heavily weighing his options here. (Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but considering the way he was staring at his phone and darting his eyes so fast Joe can’t even see the colour of them, it hardly seems a stretch).
Still-Joe’s been waiting for over an hour. And if nothing else, he’d like to at least get confirmation that it’s safe to go home. So he stands, pushing the chair back and leaving it partially tucked into the table, debating about how best to approach Sir Might Hiss At Me.
“Excuse me.” Joe tries, because it’s better than just ‘Hi’. He hopes. “You’re clearly very busy, I’m just wondering, are you uh, Harlow?”
Mr Perhaps Considering Using Claws glances up, and seems just as perplexed as Joe by the question. Now that he’s closer than five feet, Joe can tell from his eyes that he’s not quite as angry looking as he had at first surmised, and just seems startled and-if the slightly deep, dark circles are anything to go by exhausted. “No, sorry.” He says, before Joe actually registers he’s said it. His eyes are a fascinating blue-green-grey combination that looks like staring straight into a post-storm ocean.
Fascinating.
“Hello?” Joe blinks, and to his credit-not Harlow seems just as slightly dazed. Joe can just barely see lettering on the long-faded hoodie not-Harlow is wearing and blinks again, “Sorry, then, to bother you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” And Not-Harlow smiles, it looks tired, but friendly. “Waiting for someone? Could be somewhere else.”
“No, it’s.” Nobody puts ‘tell total stranger you’ve been horribly stood up’ in conversation etiquette books. “My friend” At least Joe’s conversation skills come in handy at times. “Set me up on a date, but well..”
“Was it a date you wanted, or a date your friend wanted?” Not-Harlow asked, and Joe laughs immediately, both startled and charmed by the bluntness. “He wanted it, he’s a pest. But in a good way, I guess. Harmless.”
“They say that about lots of pests.” Not-Harlow says, and Joe definitely needs a name now, because this is ridiculous.
“What sort of pests come to mind?” He asks, because-they’re talking now and neither of them seem that interested in breaking apart the conversation just yet.
Not-Harlow pockets his phone, propping his hip against the counter in a way that is far more attractive to Joe than it should be, brushing back errant strands of hair that may or may not have product in it for the slightly static appearance. (Though Joe would guess not).
“I can think of many, but I think I’d rather have your name. Because whoever stood you up may be missing out. But I’m hardly interested in being a repeat, should we keep talking.”
Damn.
Joe’s not sure if he’s impressed or slightly intimidated. “Joe.” Deciding to go with a healthy mix of both.
Since he gets a charming, if edged smile that does things to Joe’s brain that he’d rather save for those late night TV channels, he figures it was the right call. “Nicky” Not-Harlow, no, Nicky offers, extending his hand.
His grip is tight, slightly calloused, and perhaps a bit too mesmerizing.
“Nicky.” Joe repeats, smiling back, a little amused when Nicky, for all his confidence, ducks his head, “Care for a drink?”
“I do.”
--
(Joe gets a text hours later that is one line of peak nonsense from Harlow that he promptly deletes, along with the number. Even if Nicky tells him he should have kept it ‘just in case’.)
(”What for?” Joe asks, when Nicky mentions it. “To thank him for not coming.”)
#the old guard#kaysanova#nate does wriiting#joe and nicky#nickyxjoe#mistaken identity#getting together#fanfic#fic#ficlet#prompt fic#prompt fics#ANYWAY i am maybe already considering expanding on this 10 seconds after i wrote it SO#nilefreemans#userkayla#happy ending to bring about ALL happy endings#because im me#bi-leigh-bi#ink-phoenix#moonlightandromache#au#modern au
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With how many of them there are, I feel like the Eternals lends itself pretty well to alternate universe fics. I'm not sure if that's your thing, but what cliche AU would you like to see them in? I feel like roommates is fun and obvious but maybe doesn't have a lot of plot, but I also just rewatched The Old Guard and instantly thought about how they would fit into that world(Sprite/Ikarus as Booker and Thena/Gil or DruigMakkari gives me Joe/Nikki)t's the same immortality thread but grounded.
I may not be the best person for this because I am not super into AUs these days, and I actually have a post about how I don't know what to do with Druig in a no-powers AU, what with his powers shaping his personality more than anyone else's. But I'll give it a go, but I'm going with fusions because I don't have any cliche AUs in mind. Hope that's cool.
Leverage, but with twice the number of people. Unfortunately I genuinely don't know who would be the mastermind because they have very blunt force battle tactics. No one has an ounce of finesse except maybe Sersi. Ajak, obviously, but like, I think she's not on the team, she and Ikaris are the Sterling characters. So yeah I guess Sersi is the mastermind, because she's learned that compassion can be hard by the end of the movie.
Makkari is the thief, duh. Phastos = hacker. Sprite is a grifter! Thena and Gilgamesh are hitters. Druig is also a grifter; he's just not as good at it. Kingo is the guy they call in for big jobs when they need another actor because "child" and "mean guy with unsettling smirks" won't always cut it.
Dane can be the sad guy who's like "My boss is stealing from us and we can't do anything about it :(" and Sersi is all "Oh we have to help him!!"
--
Mass Effect and this can be in the canon timeline, ish. (I guess this is a crossover, not a fusion.) 2148 and suddenly humans know stuff. All the Eternals can be like "yeah we're biotics"
"I just saw you transmute that boulder into BIRDS"
"uh...my mom drank eezo milkshakes when I was in utero"
"that doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about element zero to dispute it"
The Illusive man's dossier on "Phil Stoss"
-expert engineer
-human biotic with incredible ability to manipulate his technological creations
-friendly, lonely, older than he looks
Stoss is skittish and mysterious, and known to mistrust Cerberus. His skills will be invaluable for finding the Collector homeworld. He is usually found at his workshop on Earth. Caution advised: Known associates include human biotics who take privacy very seriously.
Paragon Shep can recruit "Phil" quickly but he turns Renegade Shep away initially, until Druig, who has poked around in Shep's head (because WHAT is going on in there) is like "Uhhh yeah no we're going to sign on with this person, we have to." and then four more people are suddenly on the Normandy SR-2. (because...she got old and died, so it's only six left, sorry).
Long story short, Druig ends up in a long distance telepath fight with Harbinger and later almost gets killed by the Leviathans who are like THAT THING IS A THREAT.
--
The Old Guard, you know, Druig is Andy! the obvious choice is Andy is Sersi or Ajak but no, it's Druig. He really does go through a similar arc, like, I can't do anything that matters, and at the end, Andy learns that EVERYTHING she does matters, she gets a new sense of purpose while Druig gets a) revenge on Arishem, b) freedom from Ajak and Ikaris, c) knowledge that he really made a difference in billions of lives, namely that they weren't cut short, and d) PURPOSE, new purpose to start a full scale revolt against the gods.
I probably wouldn't call Makkari Quynh, although...she was the one who was alone (ish) for five hundred years, so...maybe...
Joe/Nicky is Thena/Gil, yeah. just that level of easy devotion, never questioning their bond.
I very much agree that Sprite is Booker, for obvious reasons. Ikaris is a true believer. Sprite just wants her pain to stop. So Ikaris might be, uh, Dr. Kozak? That seems harsh.
Nile though...Nile might be Sersi? Or Phastos, I don't know. They're both pretty hip with modern humanity. I'm leaning toward Phastos, because family, but then again, Sersi is the one who finds herself suddenly the main character, her entire worldview turned upside down, facing an entirely different world than the one she thought she lived in.
I don't know if this was really what you were looking for, but it is what I have. Thanks for writing!
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the way you showed me you care
“Shit.”
Booker jumps about a half foot in the air and almost falls off the couch at the sound of his phone ringing. It’s been months since anyone has contacted him, so long that he was beginning to wonder why he even kept it charged.
In some self sacrificial moments he thought about changing his number so they couldn’t contact him, tricking himself into thinking they would.
He fumbles forward and goes to answer when it blessedly stops ringing. Just because it takes an insane amount of alcohol for him to get drunk doesn’t mean he hasn’t spent the last couple of months trying.
Just as he lays back down on the couch it rings again and when he goes to answer it his stomach sinks.
Copley.
“What?” Booker growls into the phone and the voice on the other end just sighs.
“How soon can you get to London?”
“Why? Is Andy?”
“Everyone’s fine.”
Booker releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and rubs his forehead until he calms down.
“Then why?”
“London. How long?”
Booker holds his phone in front of him, trying to figure out the time and what day it is.
“Give me a couple of hours.”
“Fine. You remember how to get to my place?”
“How could I forget?” Booker responds dryly and he’s only slightly disappointed when Copley doesn’t say anything back.
“Do you need anything? Money?”
Booker swallows at the softness in Copley’s voice. They’ve always had a friendly enough relationship, one doesn’t get to the point of asking someone to help you end it all without being somewhat close. They always understood each other in that regard.
“That’s the last thing I need. I’ll see you tonight.”
Booker hangs up before Copley can say anything and he smiles as his email pings with a train ticket to London and a rental car reservation.
He takes one last look at his shitty apartment and grabs the duffel bag he’s had packed since he first got to Paris.
At the last minute he picks up the copy of Don Quixote that Andy gave him and shoves it into his bag before grabbing his keys and his current passport, a French one, for once.
Something about being exiled for a hundred years makes him want to be sentimental. And drunk. But he figures he can drink on the train.
In what feels like no time at all he’s pulling up to Copley’s weirdly modern house in the outskirts of London. Booker tries not to think about what Copley could possibly want, especially considering he dragged Booker to London for it. Before he even turns off the engine Copley is outside waiting for him.
“You made it.”
“Very astute of you.”
Copley rolls his eyes and Booker follows Copley into his house, setting his bag down on the couch.
“Gonna tell me why I’m here?”
“I need your help.”
“My help?” Booker asks as Copley hands him a glass of scotch.
Booker looks around Copley’s office, weird detective board still firmly in place, and waits for Copley to answer.
When it seems like Copley isn’t going to say anything anytime soon, Booker walks over to the board, heart clenching at seeing Andy’s, Nicky’s, and Joe’s faces reflected back at him.
“None of me?”
“You told me you were immortal. I didn’t really need to do any research on you.”
“Mmm.” Booker swirls the drink in his glass and smirks.
“Couldn’t figure out my real name could you?”
Copley smiles and Booker shakes his head as he laughs.
“You’re very good.”
“Oh, I know.”
Copley smirks at him and Booker feels himself relax for the first time in months.
“So, my help?”
“There’s a job.” Copley hands him an iPad and Booker looks it over. “Andy agreed, but I need supplies and I don’t want to put them on the radar of any of my contacts.”
Booker raises an eyebrow at that and he swears he can see regret in Copley’s eyes.
“Joe and Nicky can get them. They know who we used.”
“Joe and Nicky?”
“Just because they’re super old doesn’t mean they can’t use a computer.”
“But Andy?”
“Oh, yeah, Andy’s terrible.” Booker walks over to sit in one of the chairs as Copley takes the other. “But Joe and Nicky aren’t half bad and I’m sure Nile is even better.”
“Nile. A millennial she is.”
Booker laughs and hands back the iPad. “She giving you trouble?”
“She just wants to have social media, wants to see her family, the usual.”
“Well, Nicky and Joe have an Instagram.”
“They what?” Copley looks like his eyes are going to bug out of his head and Booker rolls his eyes as he opens his phone.
“Not in their names or anything. It’s one of those couple’s accounts. They never show their faces and Nicky thinks he’s funny, posting old photos of them, making people think it’s a filter instead of a yellowed Polaroid.”
“Jesus.”
“Just give Nile some ground rules.”
“And the family part?”
“Ah, yeah, I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.”
“Why?”
Booker looks up at Copley and realizes he’s genuinely curious. Booker takes a moment to spin his wedding ring that he stills wears and notices Copley still wears his as well. It makes something clench in his chest that he can’t really describe.
“Nothing good will come from her seeing them.” Booker ends up saying quietly and Copley nods.
Booker doesn’t know what to do with the look on Copley’s face. It’s not pity, or even understanding, but it’s something close, and that makes his heart hurt.
“Here.” Booker emails Copley the contacts and supplies he’d use for this mission and he waits for Copley to read it before getting up to leave.
“Stay.” Copley says as Booker walks past him. “For dinner I mean, and you can go back to Paris tomorrow.”
“Dinner.” Booker says, even though he packed for at least a week, and doesn’t want to look too closely at why he doesn’t want to leave.
“You cook?” Copley jokes. “You’ve had what, two hundred years to learn?”
“Nice try.” Booker walks into the kitchen with Copley behind him and takes a seat at the bar as Copley pulls out some food.
“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” Copley asks as he cuts up some veggies for what looks like a stir fry. “None of you have, actually.”
Booker swallows roughly at the mention of everyone else and he wishes he refilled his scotch before coming out here. One appears in front of his view and Copley gives him a wry smile.
“We don’t really talk about these things.”
“What things?”
“You know.” Booker waves in the general direction of Copley’s office. “Immortality, with anyone who’s not…”
“Ah.” Copley nods and throws the veggies and chicken he pulled out of the fridge into a wok.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Copley turns to look at Booker and Booker can’t explain it but he feels seen like he never has before. “Doesn’t that get lonely?”
“I think you know the answer to that already, James.”
Copley nods and they sit in companionable silence while the food cooks. Booker wishes he had more to say, but the sting of losing his friends, his family, sits heavy in his throat.
There’s no Nicky to bet if Andy will guess all the flavors in the latest baklava. There’s no Joe to watch football with and cheer for any team who’s wearing the color green because ‘Nicolò’s eyes.’ There’s no Andy to…
He’s brought out of his musings by Copley’s shout.
“They have almost a million followers!”
Booker can’t help it, he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs, for the first time in months.
~~~
Booker was supposed to go home the next day. But it’s been almost three weeks and he hasn’t left.
It’s not that he wants to stay, that’s a lie, but Copley keeps asking for help on jobs or how to deal with the team and Booker, the martyr, can’t stop himself from asking for more information.
It’s not like he can’t figure out where they are. He helped them disappear in the world for almost two hundred years, he knows how they operate, but that feels a little too invasive, even for him.
“They want to take a break for a little while.” Copley sits down next to him with coffee and passes one to Booker.
That’s another thing. Booker isn’t drinking as much and his flask is in his bag. Copley brings him coffee, tea, water. Almost anytime Booker sees the man drinking something, he brings something for Booker, as well. Booker knows it’s a tactic to get him to stop drinking as much, but he finds that he doesn’t care.
“They do that.”
Copley just looks at him and Booker is reminded of the CIA Agent he met nearly nine years prior.
“When you’re as old…” Booker smiles at Copley’s look of interest. “Nice try. But breaks are good. And Nile is still new.”
“When will she stop being new?”
“When Andy thinks she’s ready.”
“For?”
“Honestly? Probably never now that Andy’s…”
“Mortal?”
Booker swallows and looks up at Copley. The storm brewing in his own eyes is met with a compassion he doesn’t deserve. He looks away before he does something ridiculous like cry but not soon enough for Copley to notice.
“Booker.” Copley breathes deeply, almost like it pains him that Booker is hurting. “How long is your exile?”
“A hundred years.”
“A hundred years?”
“Yeah.” Booker doesn’t even realize he’s saying the next part until Copley’s gasp. “A third of my life.”
“A third? So you’re two hundred?”
Booker sighs and figures if the man is letting him live in his house then he might as well be honest with him.
“I turned two hundred and fifty this past May.”
“Two hundred fifty…” Copley trails off with a look of concentration. “Seventeen seventy?”
“Got it in one.”
“Well, shit.”
Booker laughs at the look on Copley’s face. “You have a board of over a hundred and fifty years of photos of us and my actual age surprises you?”
“Well yeah, especially considering you’re the baby.”
“I am not the baby.” Booker glares at Copley without heat.
“Right. Right, it’s Nile. You’ve definitely got middle kid syndrome.”
“I resent that.”
Copley shrugs and it’s such an odd thing for him to do that Booker smiles.
“Forty two.” Booker says unprompted.
“Huh?”
“I’m forty two, give or take a few years.”
Copley turns his head to the side like he’s studying Booker and likes what he finds. “I’m forty three.”
“I know.”
Copley rolls his eyes. “So how did you die?”
“The first time?”
Copley nods and Booker thinks about telling him the glorified version of the truth or the actual truth and finds that he actually wants to tell him.
“Army deserter, fighting with Napoleon.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Nothing, just don’t see you as an army guy.”
“It was the thing to do.”
Copley raises an eyebrow at him and Booker sighs.
“Alright fine, I was a forger, got caught, sent to war…”
“Booker.”
Booker shakes his head. “It wasn’t the last time I saw my family, although...”
“Family?”
“Wife, three sons.” Booker spins his wedding ring, watching as Copley’s eyes follow the movement.
“I never…”
“My youngest son died at forty two, cancer. I can still remember everything he said to me, screaming that I wouldn’t share my gift with him to help him.”
Booker startles as Copley’s hand comes down on top of his own, squeezing tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Booker turns his hand over in a moment of bravery and squeezes back.
“I’m sorry, too.”
Copley sits back for a moment, seemingly contemplating something, then shakes his head as he gets up to grab a binder on his desk.
“What are you?”
“Here.”
Copley places the binder down on the table and Booker looks at it like it might bite him.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Booker opens it and sees pages of photos of himself. The photos that should be on the wall with the others.
“So you did have photos of me?”
“Just those and the few that are already on the wall. You’ve been with them a long time.”
“Not that long.”
“Longer than most people will ever get.”
Booker nods at that, thinking back to the time he had with his family, the time Copley had with his wife. It makes his heart hurt, when he thinks about everything he’s done.
“If I had your names I could find more.”
“Sébastien.”
“What?”
“My name, it’s Sébastien Le Livre.”
Copley smiles and the way it lights up his whole face is beautiful. The thought stops Booker’s heart for a moment, but then he lets it wash over him. For once, his attraction to someone else doesn’t feel like a betrayal.
“Booker makes sense now.” Copley smirks. “Although I think I like Sébastien better.”
Yeah, this man is going to be the death of him.
~~~
Booker should really admit that he’s not leaving Copley’s house. They’ve traveled to a few places and Booker’s taken a couple of solo jobs and gone to some of his safe houses to get some of his things but it’s been three months of him living with Copley and helping him with the team's jobs and he can feel himself slipping into a dangerous normalcy.
You can also cut the tension between them with a knife. Booker doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants James Copley, but here he is three months into the first solid home he’s had in over two hundred years, and all he wants is Copley.
Which is to say, he’s a little miserable. He can’t mess this up. He can’t mess up the one friendship that’s become as vital to him as breathing, he can’t mess up the chance to help his family, even if they don’t know it, and he can’t mess up the chance to spend at least some of his hundred year exile with this man.
Booker’s trying to figure out how to at least see if Copley’s interested in maybe making their relationship something more when he hears a loud crash from the kitchen.
“Shit.”
“You okay?” Booker looks around at the mess in the kitchen, a little shocked to see any part of the house in such disarray.
“Yeah, sorry. I was looking for something.”
“What?”
“A cookbook. My wife’s.”
Booker’s heart seizes at the mention of Copley’s wife. It’s not that they haven’t talked about her, hell Booker’s seen more pictures of her than he’s ever seen of another person, but something twists in his gut, burning hot like jealousy, and he hates it.
“What were you trying to cook?”
“Huh?” Copley’s looking around frantically and not really paying attention and Booker puts his hand on his arm to stop him.
“James.”
Copley looks at him and visibly relaxes as Booker bends down to look in the cabinet Copley was cleaning out.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Booker finds what he thinks Copley is looking for and stands up to hand him a small book that has pretty cursive writing on the front.
“Here.”
Booker looks into Copley’s eyes as he takes the book. Their hands brush and Booker swears the butterflies he feels make him feel like a teenager again, which is honestly impressive.
“Sébastien.” Copley says in his infuriatingly elegant accent and Booker feels himself moving closer, so close that he can feel Copley’s breath against his own lips.
It only takes a second, and then Booker is surging forward and kissing Copley, who drops the book and wraps his hands around Booker’s waist.
Booker reluctantly breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too much. He looks into Copley’s eyes and is pleased to see a similar look of want reflected back at him.
“What are we doing?” Copley whispers as Booker presses up against him and pushes them into the counter.
“Whatever you want.”
Copley takes that as an invitation and he surges forward, Booker grabbing onto his hips to stop the momentum as he feels Copley’s tongue seek entrance into his mouth.
Booker gets so lost in the kiss, so lost in pulling Copley’s shirt from his pants and undoing the buttons to his shirt that he’s pretty sure he’s never been kissed like this before, and that’s saying something.
Before Booker gets what he really wants, which is Copley somewhere horizontal, Copley breaks the kiss with a shout.
“Shit.”
“What happened?” Booker’s looking frantically at Copley. “James!”
“Cut myself.” Copley looks at him as he pulls his hand in front of him to show the bleeding the knife that was on the counter behind Booker caused.
Booker helps him bring his hand under the water as he grabs a towel. As soon as the blood washes away Booker turns his hand over looking for the cut and doesn’t see any.
“Where’d you cut your hand?”
“I, I don’t know.” Copley’s looking at his hand like he’s never seen it before and Booker doesn’t think, he just grabs the knife and slices Copley’s hand again and then his own.
“Sébastien!”
“Just look.” Booker wipes the blood away from his own hand and Copley’s and places them next to each other as they watch both wounds heal.
“Holy shit.”
“Does this mean?”
“I don’t know what it means. Usually a person has to die for us to figure it out.”
“Uhh, about that.”
“We can deal with this later?”
Booker leans in closer to Copley and kisses him again, magically healing immortal hands long forgotten.
~~~
Except, not so forgotten, when Copley shoots awake in the middle of the night, grabbing his head and nearly throwing Booker out of bed.
“James?”
“Sorry, nightmare.” Copley looks over at him and then turns on the light and Booker can see the worry lines on his face.
“Tell me.” Booker says as he reaches up to cup Copley’s cheek as Copley leans into him.
“It was nothing.” Copley shakes his head as he scoots closer to Booker. “The team.”
“What about the team?”
“Nothing, probably just nerves for the next job.”
“James. Tell me what you saw.”
Copley sighs as he lays back down and Booker hooks his leg over Copley’s as he waits for him to speak.
“I don’t want…”
“I’ll be fine.” Booker says as he leans in to kiss Copley. “Tell me.”
“Andy and Nile were training, Joe was sketching something and Nicky was cooking.”
“Shit.” Booker lays back down and rubs his hands over his eyes. “We dream each other.”
“We?”
“When there’s a new immortal.”
“So you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. This hasn’t happened before.”
Booker looks over at Copley and sees that his eyes have gone wide and he has a panicked expression in his face.
“Hey.” Booker turns on his side so he can pull Copley closer. “We’ll figure this out.”
Copley nods just as his phone starts ringing. They both jump at the noise as Copley shows him the caller is Andy.
Booker tries not to listen but it’s kinda hard when he’s hugging Copley and he misses the sound of Andy’s voice.
“They’ll be here tomorrow.” Copley says as he drops his phone on the nightstand.
“Alright. I can get out of your hair.”
“What? Sébastien, no.”
“I’m not supposed to see them. Hell, I’m probably not supposed to even be speaking to you.”
“Sébastien.” Copley runs his fingers through Booker’s hair. “This is your home. I want you to be here.”
Booker can’t help it, he kisses Copley like he’s never going to be able to again, as he reaches over and turns off the light.
~~~
Morning comes all too soon and Booker hates it. This sanctuary he’s built, his home, according to James, is about to be overcome with people who hate him.
“I can meet them somewhere else.” Copley says as if he can read Booker’s mind. Wouldn’t that be something.
“No. They’re probably almost here anyways.” Booker would know, as he broke his own vow and tracked them, just so he knew how much time he’d need to prepare.
“Do I even want to know?”
“No.” Booker smiles and Copley leans down to kiss him just as the doorbell rings.
Booker holds tighter to his coffee cup as Copley lets them in and for the first time in almost a year he’s looking directly at Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky.
“Booker!” Nile says delightedly as she practically skips over to hug him. He sinks into the hug, grateful to at least not have burned this bridge.
“Hey, Nile.”
Nile pulls back and Booker looks over to Andy, who looks the same, if not well rested, and he hugs her, too.
“Book.”
Book squeezes her again as he steps back. Booker looks at Joe and Nicky, who stand formidable and together but with their heads tilted to the side like they’re trying to figure something out.
“Did you dream of Copley, too?” Nile asks him and before Booker or Copley can answer Andy gasps as she looks across the living room.
Everyone turns toward her and Booker instantly realizes what she’s looking at and so does Copley. It’s Booker’s copy of Don Quixote that Andy gifted him last year.
But that’s not all, no, she’s going to notice Booker’s boots by the door, his laptop on the table, his sunglasses and motorcycle helmet on the shelf. It looks like he lives here, because he does.
“You didn’t just get here today, did you?” Joe asks him as Andy looks at him smiling.
“No.” Copley answers as he comes up to Booker and places a hand on the small of his back.
Booker can’t help it, he leans into the touch and turns towards Copley to give him a small smile.
Booker chances a look back at the others and feels warm at the sight of Nile, Andy, Joe, and Nicky all smiling at him.
Nicky walks over to him and pulls both Booker and Copley into a quick hug.
“It’s destiny.”
#the old guard#booker x copley#bopley#booker accidentally on purpose moves in with copley#mentions of alcoholism
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Booker!!
yes!
favorite thing about them
i quote this a lot but it’s because it kind of just fits with how i see him: whatever works. i like his adaptability. he’s a forger, he’s the tech guy, he’s the gopher. he struggles with the world he’s been forced into but he still fights, however he can. gun out of ammo? headbutt. can’t kill yourself the old fashioned way? listen to what the CIA guy has to say. his adaptability hurts him but it helps him, too, and it makes him as important a part of the group as all the others.
least favorite thing about them
he (and copley) really should have come clean, like, as early as after the killing floor. it was a sloppy plan and it was obvious they both realized this early on, but he just soldiered on through. long term planning isn’t a depressed person’s sharpest skill, i have to say.
favorite line
“I felt her die,” okay sorry my favorite quotes keep going back to nile and booker in some way but well, you know. their stories were intimately intertwined in the story, so. i liked the way he said this, and the fact that he was so shaken by his first new immortal dream, how heavily it affected him, the way he grabbed his own neck. amazing.
brOTP
well, with joe, of course! but also a little bit, copley? i’d love to find out more about how they got back into contact, how that conversation went, whether they were ever friendly or commiserated about being widowers. maybe they can forge something like a friendship again some day, or maybe not. but i like to think they could.
OTP
nile, of course <3 see nile post for my little ramble on them, etc etc.
nOTP
again, just like with nile, basically everything. but in particular: andy/booker & joe/nicky/booker. no ty. also, at this point in the fandom, just out of spite, booker/therapy, lol.
random, i don’t ship it at all but i appreciate the booker/copley shippers for the name ‘bopley’ being so fucking hilarious
random headcanon
okay most people accept that he’s the tech guy, but i definitely like to think he’s more than that, he’s a nerd. he can code, he got into computers and the internet way early on, he obviously texts just fine, he’ll use emojis with nile and mostly understand what they mean (and when he doesn’t she teases him about it so it’s a win-win), he has a cache somewhere full of old motherboards he’s sentimental about. nerd <3
unpopular opinion
this is hard because so many people are so wrong about him in so many ways 😔 and i’ve bitched about most of them. hmm. just plucking randomly out of the giant cauldron of bad booker takes, that he specifically intended to get the others captured and tortured. i mean i feel like it’s obvious that’s not what the plan was, and that it spun rapidly out of his and copley’s control (in a way they should have but didn’t anticipate). but for some reason there’s this persistent hot take that he deliberately was like “(rubbing hands together villanously) bwa ha i can’t wait for joe and nicky (and andy i guess) to be TORTURED i’m gonna love it so HARD”. also that his shooting of andy was like, particularly heinous. was andy headshotting nile attempted murder? stop.
song i associate with them
mark lanegan - “borracho”
Here comes the devil prowl around
One whiskey for every ghost
And I'm sorry for what I've done
'Cause it's me who knows what it cost
It breaks and it breeds and it tears you apart
It bites and it bleeds
And this desert turns to ocean over me
favorite picture of them
this is kind of cheating bc it’s two pictures but i had trouble capturing the exact moment so:
that “so about those samples” expression
thank you 🖤 love talking about the best boy
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Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Three
Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC
Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)
Warning: Language, Minor Panic Attack
Taglist: @dragonballluver
Previous Chapter
“We have an issue.”
Jack closed the door behind him. Jack was a college friend of Demetria and Harvey who co-ran a moving company with his brother, Max, in Gotham. He’d been there to help Demetria move in to the one bedroom so it was a no-brainer to ask him to help her move.
Demetria looked up she loaded the last box ontop of the dolly
“What broke?” She asked, the knot in her stomach tightening.
He waved his hand reassuringly “Nothing broke. Everything is secured in the truck.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“There’s some paparazzi outside.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“It’s not a whole lot. Just like two, maybe three.”
“No it’s definitely three,” Max confirmed as he glanced from out the window.
Demetria threw her hands up as she walked over to the window, Jack trailing right behind her. The three of them watched as across the street, three men stood around with cameras in their hands.
She could think a few ways they could’ve gotten her address. One was from the Gotham Gossip, the other was someone at GCN tipped off the Gotham Times who also tipped off some other publication.
“Should I call the cops?” Demetria asked.
“Yeah, that’s gonna go over real well,” Max snorted.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?”
“Just keep going and ignore them, I guess,” Jack shrugged. “Best you can do.”
She closed her eyes. “I thought I had more time before I had to deal with this.”
“Can you call Bruce?” Jack asked.
She shook her head. “He’s at work.” She stepped back. “We’ve got these boxes left and then it’s over.”
She began rolling the dolly when Max stopped her. “Let us do that.”
“And have them catch me empty handed? Not a chance.”
“Fair enough.”
She quickly went into her purse, grabbing her keys and iPod with earphones wrapped around it. She shoved the iPod in her back pocket. “Here’s the plan. Jack, give the keys to Mrs. O’Neill. She’s in the room 301. Tell her I say ‘thanks for everything.’ Max, take one last look around and make sure nothing is getting left behind, alright? I’ll meet you two in the truck.”
Both men nodded their heads. She grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder, She rolled the dolly out into the hallway and into the elevator.
Upon getting inside, she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her temple. She could feel her throat closing in and chest tightening, a sign she needed to do her breathing exercises. She inhaled slowly, holding it in for seven seconds before breathing out.
She knew she would eventually have to deal with it when Bruce wouldn’t be around, but as she’d said, she thought she had time. Either way, she’d had to deal with it and it looked like today was the day to begin doing so.
She put her earbuds in as Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chains” filled her ears.
The doors opened and she rolled the dolly out into the lobby, watching the men across the street watch her moves. She inhaled and exhaled slowly.
“Here goes nothing,” she mumbled.
She opened the door with one hand and pushed the the dolly with the other. The men hurried across street, their cameras flashing her as they stood on the street.
She kept her eyes on the truck and even with the pounding of Mick Fleetwood’s drums and Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nick’s powerful vocals, she could still hear the men yelling at her.
“Demetria, where’s Bruce?”
“Demetria are you moving in with Bruce?”
“When’s the wedding?”
“Give us a smile!”
“Demetria is it true you dated Harvey Dent prior to being with Bruce?”
She pulled her lips back, mentally reminding herself that responding to them would only make things worse.
She rolled the dolly into the back of the truck, setting her purse down before unloading the boxes. She knew they were there, watching her unloading, and photographing her from behind. While her throat really started closing in, she continued to breathe. She then put the empty dolly up against a box before grabbing her purse and going down the ramp. She kept her head down as she made her way into the driver’s area of the truck.
Closing the door, she could still see them photographing her from in front of the car. She kept her eyes down as she pulled out her phone and began texting Bruce.
Heading to the mansion in a bit. There’s paparazzi outside my place but everything is fine.
She leaned her head back, continuing her breathing exercises when her phone buzzed. She looked down to find it a text from Bruce.
Are you alright? Are you safe?
I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight. Love you.
Jack and Max got into the driver’s area with Jack at the wheel and Max right beside Demetria so she was in the middle.
“Vans all closed up and everything is good,” Jack said. “Let’s move out.”
The paparazzi moved off to the side as the van pulled forward before driving off.
“How much do either of you want to bet that I’m going to be criticized for not wearing a seatbelt?” Demetria brought up.
____________________________________________________________
As they loaded boxes into the storage area of Wayne Manor, Demetria kept looking over to see the mansion.
It was still being fixed, with certain areas built and ready, while others were covered in tarp.
Bruce had shown her photos of what it looked like prior to the fire. For a mansion, it wasn’t overly designed, but rather cozy and the kind of place a kid would be lucky to call home. She’d hope that when it would finally be rebuilt that it would look exactly how it did. Knowing Bruce’s attachment to the house, it probably would.
“So this is where you’ll be?” Max asked.
“Yep,” she responded popping the “p”. “We’re moving in the second it’s ready.”
“I remember when this place burned down,” Jack said. “Real shame. But I heard Wayne’s all cozy and whatnot in his penthouse.”
Demetria shrugged. “It’s just an apartment.”
“Yeah with a helicopter pad,” Max snorted.
Bruce’s wealth was a big topic of discussion that Demetria’s mother and older brother would bring up with her and it made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Demetria, can I ask you something?” Jack brought up, as he set down a box. “Are you...are you two planning on having a prenup?”
She cocked her head back. “Excuse me?”
Jack and Max exchanged looks. “Look, I know he’s your fiancé,” Jack began, “but I mean, the guy is known for having a new girlfriend each month.”
“Hell, sometimes it’s weekly thing,” Max chimed in.
Demetria folded her arms across her chest, anger boiling up inside. “What’s your point?”
Jack sighed. “Look, don’t get defensive...”
“Jack, what is your point?”
He eyed Max. “I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of incase he hurts you or...you know...”
“I’m fine,” she retorted. “Our relationship is fine. I’m aware of who he’s been with, but it’s not like that. If everyone stopped believing in this idea they conjured up about him based on the bullshit gossip magazines write about him, they’d see he’s actually kind and smart and thoughtful. Yea, he dated and slept around, but like you guys haven’t?”
She turned to Max. “I couldn’t even keep up with your count after sophomore year.”
She turned to Jack. “You know the lengths he went to to keep our relationship a secret so that not only I could keep my job, but that he would protect me from get hounded by the fucking press every night? If he wanted to leave, he could’ve. I gave him every chance to, but he refused. Thank you for you concern, but we’re gonna be just fine.”
She walked away leaving Jack and Max alone.
Her phone vibrated as she made her way back to the van. She pulled it out to find a text message from Bruce.
I love you too. More than anything. I can’t wait til’ you’re all mine.
______________________________________________________________
Hours later, Demetria entered the Wayne Enterprises building. She made her way to the front desk and by the time she opened her mouth to speak, the woman at the desk beat her to the punch.
“He’s on the 24th floor. Top of the building. ��
She gave the woman a nod. “Thanks.”
She made her way into the elevator and pressed the button. She was thankful to have the elevator to herself when a man with balding, blonde hair rushed in. She gave him a friendly smile and watched as she reached over and pressed the button with ‘18′ on it.
She could feel his eyes on her and she adjusted her purse on her shoulder, keeping her eyes in front of her.
“You’re Bruce Wayne’s fiancé, right?” he spoke up.
She looked over and gave him a small, but friendly smile. “Yeah, I am.”
“Coleman Reese. I’m the mergers and acquisitions law accountant.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She looked away but could still feel his eyes on her. She began playing with the engagement ring, hoping he’d take a hint.
“Wayne really shelled out big ones for the ring, huh?” he spoke up.
She laughed nervously, shrugging. “I wouldn’t know.”
She pulled back her lips, wondering why his eyes wouldn’t leave hers. At this point she couldn’t tell if he was just weird, nosy, attempting to make a move, or just trying to make conversation. Either way, she hoped it would end soon.
“You worked for Gotham City News, right?” he asked.
Jesus Christ, dude, she thought to herself.
“Uh, yea, I did.”
“Just out of curiosity, did any one there ever do some digging on the identity of the Batman?”
She furrowed her eyebrows, holding her in her urge to ask him why the fuck he was asking her this. “I...I’m not entirely sure. I was just a junior talent booker there. I wasn’t involved with the stories reporters worked on.”
The elevators doors then opened, her heart leaping with excitement. Coleman gave her a disappointed, but kind nod as he left. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” she responded.
The second the doors closed, she mumbled, “The fuck was that?”
Reaching the 24th floor, Demetria got off the elevator and wandered around looking for Bruce’s office when she heard someone say, “Miss Gallagher, I presume?”
She turned around to see a gentleman with grey hair and a warm smile approach her. She recognized him as Lucius Fox, Wayne Enterprises’ CEO.
“Lucius, hi! I’ve heard so much about you,” Demetria remarked, holding out her hand.
He shook it. “And I you, Miss Gallagher. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Bruce talks a lot about you”
“Well hopefully he only tells you good things. Speaking of which, where’s his office?”
Lucius laughed. “I’ll show you.”
The two walked side by side, as Demetria’s eyes fell to the glass windows. “How do you guys get anything done with a view like this?”
“We do our best.”
He directed her to an office with glass windows all around, her smile widening at the sight of Bruce staring at something on his desk.
Bruce’s face lit up, closing the binder on his desk.“Sweetheart, what’re you doing here?”
She wrapped her arms around Bruce’s waist. “I just wanted to drop by and say ‘Hi’, and thanks to Lucius I was able to find you.”
Bruce smiled at Lucius. “I hope she didn’t give you much trouble.”
Lucius grinned. “Not at all.” He eyed the binder. “Is that the full report you wanted me to look at?”
“Yeah, I made some adjustments you’re gonna want to look over.”
“Will do. Demetria, a pleasure.”
“Wonderful to meet you as well, Lucius.”
Her eyes scanned Bruce’s office, admiring the mahogany wood that shine at the touch of the sun. It was organized down to a tee, not a single paper sticking out from the stack. The decor was kept to a minimum, not a single photo album anywhere.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” Bruce said. “I have a present for you.”
Demetria turned to him. “Is that so?”
“Consider it a moving in gift.”
“I told you I didn’t need you to-.” She cut herself off when he handed her a manila folder filled with paper. She pulled her lips back, holding back laugher. “A folder and some documents. How romantic.”
“Open it.”
She opened the folder to find documents pertaining to Gotham's Saint Swithin's Orphanage, including contact information, funding break downs, etc. The way her eyes crinkled made Bruce’s heart melt.
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a quick chaste kiss. “This is perfect. I can start making some calls tonight, get a meeting set up-.”
“Yeah, you might want to wait a couple days.”
Demetria looked up. “Why’s that?”
Bruce smiled. “What are your thoughts on setting sail for a couple days?”
#bruce wayne x oc#bruce wayne imagine#batman fanfic#batman#bruce wayne x reader#christian bale#christian bale x reader#bruce waye#the dark knight fanfiction#the dark knight#the joker#tdk trilogy#tdk#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne smut#batman x reader
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blame @nicolodigenovas for inspiring me to write this (based on this amazing post)
It was a nice afternoon, clear and sunny, and absolutely perfect for lounging under a tree in the park with his latest read, an intense old italian romance that made him miss his home country. Instead, Nile was leading him across town with a jump in her step, to a tattoo shop of all places. He’d never shown any interest in the idea of them, he barely thought of them as art but the excitement on Nile’s face when she told him she got an apprenticeship with an amazing local tattoo artist he couldn’t say no to her - not after all the medieval literature readings he’d dragged her along to.
The shop itself was nice, large arching windows framing an intricately carved black door with the name painted on the front in a shimmering gold, and even Nicky had to admit he chuckled at it; “A Piece of Immortality,” it was rather poetic he thought.
Nile was practically bouncing through the door, eyes as wide as her smile as the bell chimed, dragging Nicky by the hand inside. Her excitement only seemed to rival his when he found himself pouring over old scriptures late at night in the library, maybe even surpassed it as she immediately dropped Nicky’s hand and ran over to the man at the counter; Nicky couldn’t understand what she said from here, but she was animatedly nodding along to what he was saying, his gaze a bit unsteady as he pulled some pages from behind the counter, much to her delight, as she began to pour over them.
The shop was very open, and Nicky found himself strangely welcomed by the warm colors that contrasted nicely with the cool metal accents adorning the walls and chairs, but more than that he could see Nile working here; he could easily picture her at her own station, completely engrossed in a new project, spending hour after hour learning new tricks and new styles, excitedly helping clients find the perfect thing to put on their bodies forever - though, Nicky could never understand why someone would do such a thing, Nile loved it and he wanted to support her as best he could.
A tall, dark-haired woman emerged from the back room and Nile wasted no time in introducing her to Nicky as Andy, one of the owners of the shop, as she was embraced in a crushing hug. Nicky glanced over at her arm, an amalgamation of black lines and words etched onto her skin; he could see a dragon looping around her arm, it’s body slinking up nearly its entire length, its face painted with a menacing scowl.
“Come on, you have to see the new stuff we’ve been working on and you’re going to love Yusuf’s!” Andy said, giving him a small nod before leading Nile to the back room. She shot him a giddy smile before following after Andy as fast as was professionally appropriate, leaving Nicky alone in the front room, save for the man behind the counter who looked like he’d sooner fall over drunk than actually be able to answer any questions as he paged through a book with glassy eyes, a not so subtly placed flask next to him, and the man sitting in a nearby chair, who nearly took Nicky’s breath away.
He was reclined in the chair, hands behind his head as his eyes trailed over the photos on the wall where there were countless tattoos pictured in so many styles and colors, Nicky almost wasn’t sure where to look but he felt his gaze travel back to the man before him. He was wearing a faded yellow shirt, thick curls tucked under a backwards baseball cap and the deepest brown eyes Nicky had ever seen. However, none of those things compared to the smile he gave Nicky when he turned around, a brilliant and encompassing smile that Nicky was sure put the sun itself to shame. Suddenly he was no longer missing the day he had planned.
Nicky somehow managed a smile back, awkwardly crossing his arms across his chest while he watched the stranger stare up at him, utterly lost in his eyes until he realized the man was actually speaking to him.
“Huh?” Was the only word he could manage, giving his head a small shake.
“You look a little bit lost,” he said, eyes crinkling as he managed another heart-stopping smile.
“Yes, well I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before.” Nicky tried to laugh, but his nerves twisted it into a rather unsettling chuckle. It didn’t help that the man was still smiling up at him, and if he was aware of the way Nicky’s eyes watched him adjust his hat, he didn’t indicate it.
“Ahh, well you certainly look cute when you’re confused.” He winked and Nicky’s breath caught in his throat, which he only just managed to play off as a cough. The man grinned, clearly happy with Nicky’s reaction.
Seconds passed, and then some more and Nicky still couldn’t manage to get words out, his mind circling over the word ‘cute’ like a vulture, except a vulture probably doesn’t have to deal with getting compliments from cute guys and probably sweats less than he was right now. A million things were running through his head, but none of them seemed like good responses, especially to a man as gorgeous as him.
And it was again that Nicky realized too late that the man had said something again. “I am so sorry! What was that?” he asked, kicking himself while he plastered on a smile he knew wouldn’t hide his growing blush.
The man chuckled. “I asked if you were here to get a tattoo,” he said, turning in his chair to face Nicky directly, clearly enjoying how flustered he was getting, wringing his hands together in front of him and eyes flicking back and forth towards him.
NIcky’s eyes widened, his response coming quickly from his mouth. “Oh, definitely not! I don’t really get the whole tattoo thing, I mean I guess you’re here to get one but honestly why even do this?” His hands moved in the air in front of him, voice tinged with a slight annoyance while he eyed the images on the wall, the ghost of a grimace crossing his face.
“And what do you mean by that?” The man’s tone was low, eyes narrowed, but Nicky didn’t seem to notice as he took a step closer to the wall, pointing lazily at the photos.
“It’s like this,” Nicky slipped into a neighboring chair, “most people regret their tattoos later in life, and it’s like the shop says, they’re immortal, they stay on your body forever. And besides that, why would people even choose to put this on their bodies? It’s not even art!”
The man eyed him with growing resentment, lips turned down; Nicky clearly didn’t realize who he was but his words stung nonetheless. His thoughts went to the tattoos that were sprawled across his arms, covered by the sleeves of his shirt, and the tattoos, his tattoos that were displayed on the wall, among those of Andy’s and Booker’s.
“Hm, that sure is something to say to a man in his own tattoo shop,” he spoke carefully, his back rigid and shoulders stiff.
Nicky paused, unsure of what he meant by that when Nile suddenly came running up to him, gripping his arm and giving it a friendly tug. “Yusuf, your new stuff is amazing! The color scheme is perfect, I mean the client is going to love it!”
Nicky gulped.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
He could feel his palms start to sweat and no amount of wiping them against his pants was doing any good. Of course Nicky would meet a cute guy and manage to insult not only him, but his entire livelihood and there was no way he could pretend he didn’t mean every word he had said, not with the way he had said them.
Nile turned to him, oblivious and Nicky rubbed at the stubble on his cheek.
“I see you met Yusuf, isn’t his stuff amazing?” She gestured to the photos on the wall and even though there was no way Nicky could know which were his, his eyes leaned towards the ones with sweeping, careful and thin lines - he could almost picture Yusuf sketching them out on paper with a careful precision.
“Was Yusuf showing it to you?” she asked, moving to stand next to Nicky, her eyes lit up with a familiar passion.
“Not exactly,” Yusuf said flatly.
“Oh, what were you talking about then?”
At Nile’s question, Nicky could feel the shame curl in his stomach and he didn’t even know how to begin to explain to her exactly how badly he fucked up. But apparently he didn’t need to because Yusuf rose from his chair, casually rolling up his sleeves to display arms that were nearly completely covered in tattoos. And Nicky had been right, he could see the similarity between them and the ones of his clients in the photos, though some were no doubt work from his colleagues.
“Nicky here was just telling me how much he doesn’t like tattoos, what was it you said?” Yusuf was nearly glaring at him, arms crossed across his chest and Nicky knew there were no words to make up for what he did. “Oh yes, it was ‘it’s not even art.’”
Nile’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised and eyes flicking between the two before Yusuf spoke up again, “I think you should go.”
And Yusuf was right.
Nile placed a hand over Yusuf’s arm, whispering a quick apology to him before pulling Nicky from the shop, her steps hard and purposeful, body tense. Nicky just followed quietly, not even glancing back at Yusuf, whose eyes he could feel watching him as he left the shop just as Andy emerged from the back room with a question on her lips that he was too far to hear, but he didn’t need to hear it to know what it was about.
The afternoon air was cooler than earlier, a little biting against his skin but he barely had time to enjoy it because as soon as they passed the windows, Nile turned to him with an exasperated look. She glanced back towards the shop longingly, taking a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking.
“Nicky why would you say that? I know you’re not like that, you can’t tell me that you really think that,” she said, sounding almost disappointed with hands dropped at her side.
“Nile, I’m so sorry!” He pressed his hands to his chest, eyes pleading as he watched her run a hand over her jacket to smooth the collar, a nervous tick of hers.
“Nicky, this is my job. I just got this apprenticeship!” She gestured to the shop next to them. “You can’t just say stuff like that, I thought you were working past some of that conservative stuff!”
And he had, mostly. There were just some things that were hard to shake off after growing up in a strict catholic household, but that was something he loved about his studies. He loved to be able to study the literature and learn about the religions from around the world, it allowed him to see so much more than he was exposed to when he was younger and he could grow into a more accepting person than he was raised to be.
“I will fix it, okay? I will fix it, Nile, I promise!” He grabbed her hand and she gave him a polite smile and a small nod, letting him leave while she headed back to the shop, hands tucked into her pockets.
And Nicky would figure something out, if not to fix it but at least to give a worthy apology - both to Yusuf and Nile. She didn’t deserve this, and she was right, he was trying to get past some of his conservative ideals and if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t even completely sure he truly believed in what he said. It had all come out without a second thought and he could still see the pain etched onto Nile’s face and how utterly upset Yusuf was at his words.
He would figure something out, he had to.
#the old guard#the old guard fic#tog fic#tog tattoo au#userlyde#mywriting#its been a hot minute since ive written anything but lyde you inspired me#also ive read through this like 3 times and i guarantee theres still mistakes so oh well
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“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”
____________________________________________________
Preamble: Sooo... our BluesBrothers Discord Server made me do it. I wrote my first very own fanfic. 😊
It has gotten a lot longer than I intended it to be, so please bear with me, if there’s not too much going on in part 1 but part 2 will follow asap :)
____________________________________________________
Alan Rubin x fem!Reader
(chapter one)
Word Count: 2.060
Fandom: Blues Brothers
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.
Warnings: none
The story takes place before the movie and before Jake went to jail for sticking up a gas station.
It was one of those afternoons Kelsey spent at the Soul Food Cafe at West Maxwell Street. She was sitting at her “regular” table at the window, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to those beautiful tunes from John Lee Hooker and a few other musicians who were performing outside in the streets. Occasionally she took a look at the opened book in her lap but couldn’t seem to focus on anything she read. If only he would stop staring.
Across the room 2 guys were seated dressed like Hasidic diamond merchants, black suit and tie, black hat, black boots, they even wore their dark sunglasses inside. Kelsey wondered if she had seen them before, surely they must have caught her eye. In any case one thing was certain. The taller one was permanently watching her. Although he was wearing his glasses she could feel his eyes on her and it annoyed the young woman to no end. She usually came her after work to relax and calm down but being watched certainly didn’t make that any easy.
From the corner of her eye she saw the tall one getting up and walking over to her table.
“Hiya, how are you doing? I’ve seen your face a couple of times before.” Slowly the girl turned her head from looking out the window to the man who, without asking, took the seat at the other side of the table. “Err… Hi, thanks I’m… doin’ good?” Was that a question? Get a grip girl “I spend quite a few afternoons here, that’s right. What about you?” As the man spoke the blonde girl took a closer look at him. He was actually kinda cute, well, from what you could see under all those black accessories. “Same here. Me and my brother play in a band”, he said as he pointed to the shorter guy who still sat at their table but gave Kelsey a small nod. “The two guys in the kitchen are also in our band, they work here for some side cash.” She chuckled “Sounds like your band isn’t in great demand then.” He gave her back a little smile “You know some times are easier and some are tougher on us. It ain’t easy out there. But perhaps you’ve heard of us…? The Blues Brothers?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “Well, one more reason to come by when we’re playing our next gig. This Saturday we’re at the…” He got interrupted by his brother, who was standing in the door, followed by a slightly pale, thin man with long, blonde and fluffy hair and a dark skinned, very muscular guy in a tight shirt. “You comin El?” “Yeah s-sure!” He assured the three men then turned back his attention to Kelsey. “Listen I gotta go, we’re on our way to rehearsal. Can I meet you again sometime? How about tomorrow, same time, same table?” And before Kelsey could agree or disagree the strange dressed man was dragged on his collar and out of the cafe by his brother.
“Jake we weren’t finished you know?” His brother sighed “I love you Elwood but you’ve been working up the courage to talk to that girl for what feels like weeks now. Thought you’d speed it up just a little once you finally did make a move.” Elwood looked shyly to the side “Yeah.. it’s just, you know I’m looking for something serious, that takes some time.” “I do. And I do want you to be happy. But I don’t wanna be late for rehearsal, everyone will blame me again, when it clearly was your fault.” Jake joked and gave his brother a soft bump with his elbow.
The next day Kelsey left work, as she checked the time she still felt unsure about what to do. Usually she would go to the cafe but then again there could be that guy waiting for her. Was he even coming? Kelsey never agreed on meeting him again though. Did she even want to meet him again? He definitely was cute and I barely know any people in this city beside my coworkers, so why not?
And so she found herself sitting at “her” table again, waiting for the man in his suit to show up. When the doorbell of the cozy dine up rang she was torn from her thoughts but greeted with a friendly smile by him. “I wasn’t even sure you’d come but here you are, I’m so glad.”, the handsome man spoke as he took a seat. “My name’s Elwood by the way.” “Hi, I’m Kelsey. Yeah you got torn away rather quickly yesterday.” “Sorry for that, today I’m all yours. We only rehearse on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. So.. you enjoy music?” “Oh absolutely. I adore jazz and blues and cannot do much with today’s music to be honest. I don’t know anyone who feels the same so this feels like my sanctuary. Did you grow up in Chicago” And so Elwood told Kelsey about the St. Helen orphanage where he and Jake grew up, how they became interested in music and founded the band. And Kelsey told him how she was raised in NewYork and only moved to Chicago a couple of weeks ago since she needed to leave NY and her past behind, to make a fresh start.
A couple of days later Elwood and Kelsey met for their 2nd date. They agreed on Kelsey picking him up right after rehearsal and they’d go out for dinner. Fortunately there was enough time for her to go back home after work and before her date. She took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her blonde, curly hair. Typical. When it matters those curls do what they want. She decided on her favourite dress, a black sleeved gown with golden ornaments, tied around her waist with a cute matching belt, ending just above her knee and a pair of black laced boots. Kelsey rarely felt self-confident. Over the years she did realise that she was pretty but her figure always made her feel unsexy. She wasn’t much overweighted but simply curvy, with a wider hip and some bigger thighs and butt. That dress though made her feel pretty, so she was satisfied with her look in the end as she left the house with a few butterflies in her stomach.
The young woman took a glance at the note the musician gave her and looked rather insecure at the building in front of her. No doubt this was the address Elwood had written down for her but this looked nothing like a place for rehearsal. Well, how does Bo Diddley state so well in one of my faves songs “Can’t judge a book by it’s cover” She started humming the tune as she entered the old, abandoned-looking building. Not having a clue in which room the band was practising she simply followed the sound of music and as she got closer and the sound become clearer she could identify the song. It was “Green Onions” by Booker T and MGs. Wow. She hadn’t heard that one for ages but she instantly started to feel the vibe. When she finally found the boys, their rehearsal had already came to an end. What a shame, I’d love to listen to some more songs, they sound quite talented. “Kelsey! There you are!” Elwood yelled from the other side of the room, raising one arm. The girl felt uneasy being on display but as she let her gaze wander through the room she noticed that aside from Elwood, Jake and one of the man she had seen in the cafe before no one else as giving her great attention. Most of the band members were busy with their instruments, they were either cleaning or doing some maintenance work on it. Elwood took a few big steps to catch up with the blonde girl “Hi, glad to see you!” He seemed to be pure excited for her to meet the guys. “C’mon I’d like you meet the rest of the band. You know, they became like family to me. Hope you like ‘em too. I know you will!” he said eagerly. “So you already know Jake of course and I believe you have met Blue Lou and Matt before.” “Yeah I have, nice to see you again.” Kelsey stammered. Wouldn’t say I “met” them but rather took a short glance at them. “Sure, we know ya’, a regular at our diner. 2nd table at the window…” Matt started “A chopped cheese and one big white coffee.” Lou finished for him. Yeah okay that’s crazy. The girl laughed nervously “Haha, alright, you scare me! Think I might order something different next time.” She then got introduced to Tom Bones at trombone, Donald Dunn at bass guitar, Murphy at keyboards, Steve at lead guitar and Willie at drums. One man was left, he was standing with his back to Elwood and Kelsey and seemed incredibly deepened in whatever he was doing, looked like the zipper of his instrument case was stuck. They approached him when Elwood continued “And last but not least of course we have Mr. Fabulous…” The man quickly turned around as he heard his nickname when not only his jaw dropped a few inches. “Alan?” “Christ Almighty! Is that the McAllister girl? I didn’t know you where in Chicago!” “Well right back at you!” Kelsey grinned. “You.. two know each other?” Elwood asked confused. “Yeah, Alan was my trumpet teacher back in NY.” “Oh didn’t you tell me you had just started learning since you moved here?” “Err.. right, I.. err.. quit and picked up playing again”, Kelsey stumbled somewhat embarrassed. She felt strangely awkward admitting that she had quit at some point in front of Alan. She swore she could see some disappointment in the trumpeter’s eyes or perhaps it was the disappointment in herself. “Well if you need a brush-up I’d be glad to help.” Alan smiled. “Really?”, Kelsey bursted out and tried not sounding too excited as she went on. “I sure would appreciate that.” “How are Mr. and Mrs. McAllister doing?” That question caused a sudden change of the girl’s mood, Alan could read her facial expression immediately. “How about we catch up over coffee sometime? Guess you might be pretty interested how I ended up with these lunatics!” He laughed and gave Elwood a little flick against the brim of his hat. She gave him a little smile when Elwood grabbed her hand “Shall we?” Before neither one of them could say anything, he twisted her around, leading her to the door. “He really has a talent to kill the mood, hasn’t he?” Elwood joked. “Nah, everything’s alright”, she assured the handsome man at her side but turned around to meet Alan’s gaze who was looking after her.
The trumpeter closed the door and threw his keys at the table, letting his instrument bag slide off his shoulder onto the sofa. He then grabbed a bottle of beer, a cloth and the tube of polishing creme from the drawer, unpacking his horn. He couldn’t believe he stumbled into her today. It had been ages. Back in NY her parents had hired him as her trumpet teacher. That was over 10 years ago, she was only 14 back then. A teenager. Not the kind of girl that stood out in the crowd to be honest but that girl today, that woman - looked nothing like the teenager from NY. She really had grown into a looker. He remembered how she used to straighten her hair when she was younger, what a shame after seeing those beautiful blonde curls today, she looked like an angel. That dress perfectly hugged her curves and loosening it up with those black boots suited her a lot. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, that smile simply didn’t want to disappear from his inner eye. We was torn out of this thoughts when he’d realised he almost put the entire tube of polishing creme on the cloth - and into his lap. He sighed in annoyance and went to the kitchen to clean himself up. After getting rid of the mess, he made a couple of sandwiches and slumped in front of the telly… with a certain young woman on his mind.
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
#blues brothers#blues brothers fandom#Alan Rubin x fem!Reader#Mr.Fabulous#fanfiction#blues brothers fanfiction
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Each and every one of the Jenners/Kardashians women has lost/dropped friends because they got with their current boyfriend or their exes.
omg the tea please idk about their love lifes just kimye 👀
Ok /deep breather/ this is going to be a long one!
Kourtney = not a friend but Scott was dating another woman when they met/started dating.
Kim = stole/started going after Ye when he was still with Amber (this gets messier if you consider the fact that Amber Rose is Blac Chyna’s close friend). This is a bit wishy-washy because Amber claims that Kim and Kanye have been messing on the low for years (pre-Amber being in the pictures) and that Kim would send him inappropriate pics while they were still together.
Khloe = Trina was a family friend (some people insist that she was only friends with Kim so Khloe doesn’t owe her anything) and felt slighted when Khloe started hooking up with French while they were a thing. Khloe then did a similar thing years later with James Harden, who was actually dating Trina at the time. Khloe was also friends with Lauren London (Lauren was a bridesmaid at her wedding to Lamar Odom) and now they’re no longer friends because she was caught hooking up with Trey Songz (her ex). If I remember correctly, Lamar was either dating Taraji at the time or was still with his baby mama when they met. Similarly, Tristan was dating his baby mama at the time when Khloe came into the picture.
Kylie = Travis is Justine Skye’s ex and Kylie ended up getting with him (they’re no longer friends and Justine is only friends with Kendall now), Blac Chyna was a close family friend but then Kylie ended up getting with Tyga, which ended Kim and Chyna’s friendship (Tyga preyed on Kylie who was a teenager at this point so I don’t blame Kylie on this one!)
Kendall = was friendly with Tinashe (same with Kylie) until she got with Ben Simmons, who according to Tinashe’s little brother, was barely broken up with her when he was caught out with Kendall. Again, not a friend but Blake Griffin was engaged to his baby mama at the time when he and Kendall started dating. The whole family is no longer friends with Jordyn so I guess it doesn’t count...? But Kendall got with Devin Booker at some point and he used to date/hook up with Jordyn.
(This one I’m not 100% on this but it’s been speculated that Kendall OR Kylie either tried to/did get with Justin Bieber because Kris was in talks to manage SelGo. Then out of the blue/right after Coachella 2014, SelGo unfollowed both of them and deleted all their pics together. Kris, also, allegedly slept with OJ behind Nicole Simpson’s back.)
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