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dercolaris · 4 years

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Clockwork

Scriddler, Smut, NSFW.

An english translation of my story Uhrwerk. Have fun my friends!

Thanks again @shin-arei for helping me a bit <3

Looked at soberly, life was actually comparable to a gigantic clockwork. Every cog, no matter how small it may be, had to work smoothly in order to maintain the steady rhythm and not risk a deviation in the timing. Jonathan frowned a bit, but then pulled up the corners of his mouth slowly. He leaned forward over his desk and wrote this new thought on the paper, carefully studying the multitude of lines on the sheet. In some of them the dark blue ink had slightly blurred marks all over the place. The master of fear smiled happily. Presumably his hand was already completely smeared or at least resembling an ink pad. The former psychiatrist let the remaining healthy eye wander over the note. He had begun writing down his impressions of the world around him since his release from the Arkham Asylum. This particularly helped with his persistent aftermath of the fear toxin, and often calmed the unstoppable merry-go-round in his head. The lean man tapped the paper in front of him a few times with the lead of the pen, absently sketching a few blue question marks on the marked margin on the side. He hummed softly into the gloomy atmosphere of the study. Contrary to his habit of making the environment livelier with some music, the brown-haired man preferred to stay in absolute silence that evening. Well, that was a lie in itself. As if to confirm, a loud croak suddenly sounded from a corner of the room. Jonathan looked up with a smile and raised his right arm meaningfully. He said calmly: "You are welcome to come to me, Nimmermehr."

The black raven flapped its wings a few times before elegantly soaring into the air. The bird made a long lap over its holder, but then carefully sat down on the thin arm below him. The former psychiatrist rubbed his forefinger gently under the animal's dark beak and with his other hand fished for a few grains from a slightly broken glass bowl. The cracks were slowly growing since last year. He offered Nimmermehr the seeds, wandered leisurely with his fingertips into the soft plumage on the raven's neck. He happily pecked the seed and gobbled it down greedily, then croaked softly, as if to express his gratitude in words. The lean man rose from his desk and strolled cautiously through the room, always careful not to startle his companion with a thoughtless movement. The animal loved it when he walked a few steps with him. Out of nowhere the graceful bird pressed its beak to the side of the brown-haired man's neck and caressed the cool skin with gentle, circular movements. Jonathan laughed cautiously, finally mumbled softly: "At least you no longer have the nasty habit of pecking my skin bloody, do you? It was quite a struggle to get rid of this behavior, my old friend.” Nimmermehr blinked a few times, then rattled his beak excitedly. The black eyes literally locked on him, staring into the depths of a once-established soul. The former psychiatrist slowly stepped up to the perch and moved his arm to a comfortable position to make it easier for the bird to step back onto the wood. He watched the animal deftly descend his hand. The raven suddenly tilted its head slightly to one side and almost lovingly touched the partially torn fingers of its holder with a claw. This gesture was followed by a soft croak. The Master of Fear stroked his completely disfigured chin and breathed cautiously: “You really don't have to worry about me, Nimmermehr. I'm fine. At least better than a few months ago. After all this time and issues we cannot expect miracles."

These words were a very wild mixture of merciless truth and bold lies. As if the bird had understood the essence of the statement, he pecked the back of the thin man's hand with light force. An unpleasant pinch made Jonathan shook a little bit. He made an abstruse grimace and replied almost angrily: "I must have praised you too early, but I can't really blame you for hurting me. We both know well enough how much authenticity there is behind such comments of me and to remind me not to deceive myself makes you such a valuable friend.” To his amazement, the raven barely nodded noticeably. The former psychiatrist put a few more seeds in the bowl on the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. He could feel a slight breeze in his teeth. Since the horrible incident with Killer Croc, some parts of skin on his face were no longer completely closed and deep cracks in the tissue revealed an impressive view of the white teeth. However, this wasn't necessarily the worst leftover from the fateful night. In particular, an initially relatively small injury over the right lower jaw bothered him a lot of trouble and especially discomfort. This wound occasionally caused fluid to flow out of the mouth again if he did not use the correct technique for drinking and he did not even want to start to talk about the constant flow of saliva during sleep. It was a terrible mess. Jonathan hesitantly stepped in front of the mirror in his study, stared at the shattered hull of its exterior. What was actually left of him? As so often, his breath stuck in his lungs. He was now referred to as a living monster, although he himself had long questioned the meaning of the word alive.

The brown-haired man had felt dead for months. Dead. Empty. Eviscerated. A soul trapped in a rotting body. The Master of Fear looked into his ruined face and led his right hand slowly to his heart. He fiddled with the zipper of the black coat, then slipped his fingers under the dark fabric after opening it. His eyelids closed instantly. A few seconds passed before he suddenly felt it again, more clearly than ever before. The even beating of the most important organ in his battered body. An unmistakable sign that he was still alive and not a walking corpse, even if people around him tried to remind him of this again and again. The gaunt man slowly opened his blind eye. The blackness greeted him, but that in itself didn't matter at the moment. He knew that this gray opal probably saw more as all of the world's optic nerves together. Jonathan took a few deep breaths and pressed his hand tighter to his heart, digging his fingernails lightly into the cold skin. What this eyeball observed was the icy reality, which a normal person is very reluctant to face. It was just a fact: the 'nightmare' of his own present existence had nothing to do with a very bad dream. He would not wake up from a sweaty night and everything would be fine again. No. This had been his real life for four long years. His sometimes bleak existence. The brown-haired man opened the other eye again and examined the damage the Crocodile had left on his body. The Master of Fear sighed calmly. There was actually no point in thinking about it any further, constantly reminding himself of what the situation had been like before the incident. He would no longer be able to restore this. Jonathan looked deep into the healthy, icy blue opal. He had forgotten a lot in the past few months. Above all his own humanity.

After a while, the former psychiatrist turned away from the mirror in pure disgust and wandered aimlessly through the old Victorian mansion. His left leg was still limping behind. He dragged through the oppressive hallway on the first floor and passed the railing, which led down to the entrance hall through two impressive wooden stairs. The Master of Fear dared a short look down, but decided to not wander downstairs right now. He had a different goal. He walked cautiously past the still-draped furniture, the dust had been gathering on the fabric for ages. The brown-haired man came to a stop at a double door and pressed the handle almost silently. He slowly peeked in, then put on a small smile. Edward was sitting at his square work table, which stood in the middle of the improvised workshop, feverishly tweaking a probably broken device. Occasionally the inventor would talk to himself or wipe the sweat from his forehead. To Jonathan's surprise, he was only wearing a dark gray undershirt and completely filthy beige work trousers. The tinkerer had even left off the welding goggles that evening. This was unusual. The Riddler usually kept up the compulsive routine of consistently pulling through his very stubborn clothing style and nothing could convince him to do without the green shirt with the question marks at least once. The younger one would probably deny it vehemently, but his slow, mental decline since the night in the institution had also affected his appearance.

Gone were the days when Edward presented himself as a handsome man of fashion. The former psychiatrist was breathing a little faster than before when he saw the man in the workshop. Even if he often couldn't hear his heart beating, it was clearly noticeable in the presence of the black-haired man. For a long time it had been incomprehensible to the thin man why the other continued to be interested in him and, despite his terrifying appearance, did not leave his side. They had been more than partners in crime before the Waylon incident. Of course, in the greatest of secrecy. When Edward finally fished him out of the Gotham River at dawn and provided him with makeshift supplies, the younger man decided to take a step with serious consequences for them. To ensure his survival, the Riddler had to overcome his pride and had actually asked Victor Fries for help. He - the great, one-off, perfect Edward Nygma. This hitherto unique act spread like wildfire in the Gotham underground and sparked a wave of wild speculation, why the inventor took such care of his friend. Several weeks passed before the bomb finally burst. Fortunately, the other criminals were well disposed to them and besides one or the other teasing comment, neither of them had ever regretted the openness to the other rogues. Still, the uncertainty had lingered for a long time, why the younger ignored all the hideous details on his partner's body. They’d had countless conversations on long, sleepless nights. Jonathan blinked a little. He watched the fine outlines of the face of the black-haired man, studied every slight movement in the muscles of the upper jaw. Basically, Edward was the most important part in his clockwork. The gear that kept it running and had repeatedly proven that it worked flawlessly. The former psychiatrist entered the workshop with quiet steps. The Riddler had explained it to him several times and yet there was a voice inside him that told him that this man is a liar.

But he wasn't. The inventor was sincere and every further day at his side showed impressively that he was not ready to give up on the brown-haired man. The thin man felt the pulse quickening in his veins. It had taken so infinitely long to understand that the younger one simply loved him from the bottom of his heart - no matter how distorted his shell might look. Inwardly, he had never changed for the worse for the man. On the contrary, actually. Edward wanted him even more every passing day. A short pain spread in his stomach and made him stop for a moment. The tinkerer had no reason to trick him. He was here because he wanted to be here. Jonathan listened to his partner's soft cursing voice for a moment. This was a unique finding. He finally stepped behind the black-haired man and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him gently to his bony chest. Edward startled slightly and muttered, obviously confused by the action: "Are you all right, John? You still have a hell a lot of fun frightening me or at least startling me occasionally, don't you?" The man behind him chuckled softly, barely audibly replied: “I'm afraid you may be right about that, Edward." Before the other could reply, the older put the torn lips on the neck of the inventor. Edward sucked in the air sharply and clenched his teeth tightly, trembling in rising excitement. Jonathan moved the leathery skin on the soft tissue of his partner. The Riddler relaxed more and more and slowly ran his hand into the thin man's straw hair. No more words were needed.

The former psychiatrist took the black-haired man's hand tenderly and led him to the adjoining bedroom, carefully guiding him by the hip towards the bed. Edward stumbled backwards, after a while touching the bed frame with his calves. A slight nudge dropped him onto the soft mattress. Without losing any more time, the Master of Fear slipped over his partner and sealed the lips in an unusually passionate kiss. The inventor groaned muffled, his fingers clawed into the brown hair. A veil of deepest desire fell over the two men. An expression of the deepest connection and probably the most sincere love they have ever felt for another person in their life. The clothes quickly found their way down to the cold floor. Jonathan bit gently into the tinkerer's neck, feeling with admiration how the younger man pressed his back and came willingly towards him. Their hands wandered over the heated skin without aim, found no rest until the last centimeter was explored. Edward huffed heavily as he met the older man's eyes. Both nodded almost in sync. The Riddler turned and positioned himself on all fours, looking embarrassed over his shoulder at his partner. Jonathan had already let lubricant flow from the often used tube onto his member and spread it generously on the sensitive shaft. The black-haired man groaned throatily, finally resting his cheek on the bed, ready and waiting. The former psychiatrist wasted no words at that moment and slowly penetrated his lover with the greatest caution he could manage. Edward tensed up for a moment, but relaxed again nearly immediately. By now they were practiced. The brown-haired man began a slow, tender rhythm, sliding his thin fingers over the younger man's back in the process.

Edward let himself go completely and enjoyed the even, intense stimulation. They moved in unison, almost as if they were literally merged at that moment. At least that was how it felt. Jonathan listened to the melodious sounds of his partner, sank into the unique beauty of this point in time. The black-haired man had meanwhile put his hand around his own penis and rubbed the stiff flesh with adapted movements to his partner thrusts. Suddenly the older one took hold of the Riddler’s torso and, with a little help from the other, pulled him up to his bony chest. His hand slid unhurriedly over the tinkerer's belly, over his abdomen and finally wrapped around the still moving hand of the inventor. Edward blushed instantly. Jonathan moved his hips smoothly on the younger man's, held him tight with one arm and guided the stimulation on his member with his fingers. The black-haired man gasped breathlessly, tilted his head back. The former psychiatrist used this space to sink his teeth into his lover's throat and continue to taste the skin with his tongue. "John ...", the Riddler stuttered completely lost in his lust, "I can't hold anymo ..." The older one kissed his ear and whispered into it: "You don't have to hold anything back, Edward." Those words were enough. The black-haired man tensed up not a second later, screamed his orgasm uninhibited in the air and a small gush of sperm spilled onto the black bedspread.

Jonathan could never get enough of this sight. The fact that the tinkerer also pulsed around his shaft repeatedly brought him over the edge. However, the climax was not, as usual, of a very animal like nature. None of them were able to really explain it. The lean man pressed the other to him as tightly as he could and began to twitch, burying himself as deeply as he could in his lover abdomen. The sweat ran from their exhausted bodies, slowly cooled in the dense night air. Edward looked over his shoulder at the brown haired man and smiled weakly. The Master of Fear overcame the small distance between their lips, sealing an unspoken promise between them. The promise they would never leave each other.

#DC #Batman #Scriddler #Riddlecrow #jonathan crane #edward nygma #Riddler #Scarecrow #arkhamverse #arkham knight

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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The Cell

Sequel to Breach

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, rough sex, some violence.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: So this is written while Bucky is the Winter Soldier and his programming is going haywire. This is the second part and I’m still unsure about where I’m going but I hope you all enjoy. Please let me know what you think and reblog if you can :D

You were in a haze as the siren died marking the end of the Asset’s assault. At least, you hoped it did. You didn’t move from where he had left you, your eyes glued to the lifeless body of Dr. Lavrenti. He hadn’t been a great man; considering the beast he worked for, he was quite the opposite but he had tried to keep you safe. While HYDRA had little regard for death toll, it didn’t reflect well or make operations any easier to have one’s own agents killing their staff. You knew what the doctor had been and what he had done. You couldn’t blame the Winter Soldier for lashing out at his master. Even so, it didn’t make it any easier. This whole place was fucked and you had signed on for a paycheck.

It served you right. Cosmic forces had twisted against you for your complicity. It couldn’t be anything else. The tears began to fall, trickling over the bridge of your nose and across your cheek into the tangles of your hair beneath your head. You could still feel the pain inside, the tingle along your thighs streaked with fire. You felt so weak, as if you had been drained of all you had. The remnants of his release had cooled, seeping out in a sickly stream. The feeling made your stomach churn.

You heard footsteps, these ones hurried and belonging to more than one person. Armored HYDRA agents rushed in and removed the door from atop Lavrenti’s corpse. You were forgotten, unnoticed as you curled up beneath the lab coat. You watched them carry the body away and shuddered with a groan. At last, one of the guards spotted you just beside the hospital bed, touching the radio on his shoulder as he called for a higher authority. His words melded together in your ears; a constant buzz dulling your senses.

The other guards left as the one who noticed you remained, keeping his distance as he kept anyone else from entering. Doctor Ilyich appeared, stepping through the shrapnel of the door frame, his eyes settling on your pathetic form. He neared you, kneeling to uncover the name tag on your lab coat, careful not to shift it from your nakedness. He shrugged. You were just an orderly. He stood and spun, motioning to the guard with two fingers.

You were gruffly pulled from the floor, the lab coat forced over your shoulders as you were led from the room. You walked stiffly, losing track of where you were. Your vision was a mosaic of pulsing orbs, the shock turning your body numb. Your head cleared when you realized you were sitting still. You were in a room you had never seen before. There were boxy monitors along the walls, cubed keyboards below and a series of buttons you couldn’t begin to understand. You were still in the lab coat, Ilyich speaking with fellow doctors across the room.

They stood before the wall of screens, Ilyich turned and pointed to the top corner and hit a key. Your eyes focused as the image of you at the mercy of the Asset began to play. The blur of tears rose once more and you sniffed, tucking your chin against the lapel of the coat.

Your movement caught Ilyich’s eye and he peered at you over the shoulder of his peer. “You see,” He continued as you avoided meeting his gaze, staring instead behind him, “He stopped thereafter. Entirely.” He pointed to another screen, the Asset stood stalk straight, head down, and allowed guards to successfully submit him. “His programming works, but the vessel is overwhelmed by biological instinct. If we can relieve the tension, these episodes should stop.”

You shook your head. You just wanted to be gone from this place. You stood shakily and Ilyich pushed past his colleagues. “Young lady,” He was before you in an instant, “Please, you must sit. You have experienced a terrible attack.” You easily obeyed as you were too weak to resist.

“I want to go,” You said evenly, “Please. I am going back to the factory where I belong.”

“No, you won’t be going back to the factory, I’m afraid,” The other doctor’s listened intently. “We have need of you here.”

“What? You saw what happened. I quit, I’m done,” You were gripping the metal arms of the chair.

“Why, young lady, you’ve earned yourself a promotion,” He said darkly, “You are most important to HYDRA’s work, it seems.”

“No, no,” You tried to stand again by another doctor, Yakovna, you thought his name was, came around your other side and held you in place by your shoulder. “I want to go.”

“You cannot go,” Ilyich asserted, “You see, the Asset chose you.”

“He raped me,” You hissed, trying to shrug off Yakovna.

Ilyich scoffed. “However you see it is not important. What is, is that you remain and appease his frustrations so that this does not happen again.”

“I am not a whore,” You shoved away Yakovna, making to stand but were forced back by Ilyich’s strike across your cheek.

“If you leave, HYDRA will make sure you are in the gutters of the darkest street. Your family, too. So your choice is this; stay an intrinsic tool for our research or go offer your services on the corner of whatever dirty village you came from.” He spoke so harshly your eyes were watering again.

“Th-this can’t be,” You looked between Ilyich and Yakovna, the doctor’s behind watching blankly. “I...I…” You dropped your face into your hands and began to sob, “No, no, no. Please, let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone w-w-what happened.”

“Young lady,” Yakovna bent down, touching your elbow softly, “This is not a bad thing. You are important. You can help HYDRA. Help your country and family. It is a noble sacrifice.”

You looked up at him, his eyes did not share the warmth of his tone. You thought of your mother and sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I haven’t a choice, do I?”

“No,” Ilyich crossed his arms, “You will be kept comfortable so long as you keep the Asset thus. You should consider yourself fortunate; many in this country would trade everything to have such luxury.”

Your fingers combed through your hair, tangling there, as you held your head. Your reality was closing in on you, your head spinning. Ilyich turned and waved forward a guard looming in the corner, “Clean her up. We will have a room arranged for her.” You were jolted from your seat by the guard, your sneakers slipping over the floor as you were dragged away. Your shock had turned to resignation; your body numb.

***

You were given plain white scrubs after you were forced to wash yourself in the shower pod. You brushed your hair with the metal comb allotted you and followed the guard along the corridors with dread. You were dressed as if you were still an orderly, only the uniform was a different colour and your lab coat was gone. No name tag, no mark of your humanity. You were a tool now. You figured you were much like the Asset; a thing to be used.

You were shown into a sterile white room, a large window in the far wall which exposed its interior to the next. A stiff hospital bed sat in the corner and a rack of plain white scrubs opposite. A sink with basic toiletries, a curtain strung around a toilet, a single book on a table. It was the bare minimum of living. The guard waved you inside and left you there, the door closing with a frightening clang. You approached the window; this must have been an examination room, or even a surgery stage. It had been quickly disassembled for your occupation.

You gasped as you peered into the next room. There was a large pod with massive metal tubes forming a labyrinth around it. A table of monitors close by, file cabinets and a messy series of desks filled the space before it. A metal examination table sat opposite the work area and a panoply of medical devices alongside it. The pod was glossed over in frigid smoke and within you could barely make out its inhabitant; the Asset.

He looked pale through the glass, eyes closed, hair limp around his face. He wasn’t so scary like this. Inert and incapacitated. You suspected he wouldn’t be kept so for long. Every other day he was set loose to reign his expertise on HYDRA’s enemies; at least, you could surmise as much from the number of suspicious deaths reported. Your chest hammered as you stared at him.

You spun around and looked around the room instead. It didn’t make you feel any better. You felt like a rat kept in a cage for observation. You crossed to the small table in the corner and sat in the single chair. The metal was unyielding against your tender pelvis. It reminded you of what he had done. Of what he would do again. You leaned your head in your hands and sighed.

Heil Hydra.

***

One morning you woke up and the Asset was gone. The first week had been spent in tedium. You had read and reread the only book, pacing the room when you were restless, and laying awake on the flimsy hospital bed at night. When you noticed the empty pod, your blood turned cold. The chamber was a flurry of doctors and agents, working as they did every day. You had yet to grow use to them. Every now and then, a pair would stand outside the window, gesturing to you as they spoke. You couldn’t hear them in your padded cell.

It was three days before he returned. You had goosebumps as you sensed the change in the next room. You stepped up to the glass and watched as the Asset marched past agents and doctors, sitting on the metal table as they hooked up tubes and wires. You watched as they worked on him, like bees in a hive. You stood at the edge of the window, peeking through meekly. Slowly, the Winter Soldier’s head turned and his blue eyes met yours above his black mask. He tilted his head, a spark of recognition. You drew back and hid in the corner with a squeak.

You slid down and crawled under the tiny table, hugging your knees as you sat in silence. You felt as if you had gone deaf. The only people who had entered were those who brought you your meals and they didn’t say anything to you. You began to rock, your nerves running wild. The door handle turned suddenly and the grinding of the hinges made you whimper. No, no, no.

Black boots stepped inside, stopping just within as the door closed swiftly. You smothered your mouth with your hand and fought to steady your breathing. After a moment, the feet began to move, walking the perimeter of the room, pausing beside the sink, the bed, and finally the table. A metal hand grasped the table top, the thumb poking just beneath, and the Asset knelt to find you beneath.

His mask was gone, he wore only a black tank and his usual cargo military pants, all weapons and armor removed. His blue eyes glossed over you. He removed his hand from the table and offered the metal palm. You stared at it and shook your head, pressing yourself further under the table. He closed his eyes and sighed. He reached out and grabbed your upper arm, pulling you until you were forced to crawl out from beneath the table.

“Don’t, please,” You quivered as he led you to the center of the room.

He turned to face you, staring down intently. He moved backwards, drawing you with him until he was against the hospital bed. He let go of you and lifted himself onto the bed in one swift move. He reached out, turning you and lifting you to sit on his thigh. You tensed as you balanced yourself on his lap and his flesh fingers lightly grazed your cheek, his palm cupping your face as his eyes never left you. His metal arm wrapped around your waist and he pressed you against him, nudging your head against his shoulder, embracing you just like that. Your heart raced as you sat still, locked in his grasp.

You felt his body relax beneath you, his fingers combing through your hair as he began to stroke your scalp. You placed your palm against his chest to keep yourself steady. He didn’t move or make a noise as he held you just like that; keeping you close in the thick silence. You were surprised, thus, when at last he did release you; unharmed. He slid you down to the floor, squeezed your shoulder and resumed his usual posture before marching to the door. You watched him go, your breath shuddering from your body, his boots still echoing in your head.

#bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #dark!bucky barnes #dark!winter soldier #bucky barnes #fic #sequel #breach #the cell #mcu #marvel #series #au #captain america #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #dark fic

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creativenostalgiastuff · 6 years

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A Virgil Affliction Chapter 12: Battleship

Word count: 2038 Warnings: Anxiety, deceit, mentions of death... generally this chapter is much lighter Author’s note: OMG, thanks everyone for the super amazing response when I had to tell ya I wasn’t going to have a chapter ready in time for my normal posting. I have never been a part of a fandom that is so supportive of each other. You guys are the best and I don’t know what I would do without you! AND GOOD LUCK WITH EXAMS if you’re in that chaos. #ThingsIDontMiss Need to Catch Up: First Chapter Previous Chapter

“We’re taking on water, Captain!” cried Roman as he threw an arm over his eyes, knocking the navy hat off of his head behind him.

It had been a while since the Sides went star gazing, and Virgil couldn’t help but notice that things were starting to fall into a new kind of normal. Little things had changed, but in the end, it was all starting to feel almost peaceful for the team.

“I thought you were the Captain,” Virgil called from his sitting place on the counter. He was watching the game that was being played, while occasionally aiding Patton in his baking. Patton had insisted on trying this old recipe for molasses cookies that he found in a memory cook book; this particular memory coming from a cookie expedition with Thomas’ grandmother one Christmas. Patton had roped Virgil into reading him the directions as he worked, covered in flour and sugar as always. He was now rolling the dough out, leaving Virgil to observe the game while he ate some of the remaining dough that had been stuck to a beater.

Patton seemed to finally be balancing out. He wasn’t randomly bursting into tears anymore, and his laughter seemed more genuine. Virgil even found the father figure humming to himself as he cooked, a sign that he was actually content. Virgil kept waiting for the shoe to drop, for another dangerous emotional swing to occur, but it never came.

Roman and Logan sat at the table, locked in a very heated game of Battleship. Roman sat across from his adversary, his leg bouncing slightly as he looked over the board, red and white pegs laying haphazardly across the table next to him. His hit board showed his random guess style, covered in white pegs everywhere.

Roman removed his arm from his head and rolled his eyes at Virgil, “Uh, I’m the Admiral, duh. I am in charge of more than one ship, obviously.”

Roman was gaining confidence in his creations again. It took a few days of Virgil asking and encouraging the Prince, but he was putting people and creatures in his lands. He took Virgil to a village that he placed inside a cave on a mountain, smiling as they interacted with each person. It was good to see Roman getting back into his element, not as hesitant.

“Not for very long,” Logan said, a sly smile pulling at his lips. “D4.” Logic sat as the almost antithesis of Creativity. His place was clear, his guesses planned and thought out.

Logan was letting the others in closer to him, both physically and emotionally. He would let the others lay with him on the couch while he read books, didn’t stare at them with scrutiny anymore. In many ways, Virgil would describe it simply as Logan was breathing again, not holding his breath or looking over his shoulder.

Roman’s head bowed reverently as he saluted, “We will always remember the valiant men and women that gave their lives aboard the SS Sanders.”

“So, shall I presume that means sunk?”

“They shall be avenged!” Roman cried as a tear fell dramatically from his eyes.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Yeah, you sunk it.”

Even Virgil was starting to relax in this new sense of normal. Sure, he was still on edge, but the device was good at reading him and helping him figure out what to do in all of the situations. The worse it had gotten was a level three when Thomas was running late to an important get together with some YouTubers for work on a project. Other than that, it was all levels 2 or 1, meaning that Virgil was able to handle things with the help of the others.

And Virgil couldn’t help but notice the difference in Thomas. Their host seemed much more like himself than he had earlier. He had seen Joan off as they left to move to their new home, and sure he was upset, but Virgil kept himself in check. The device reminded him through the whole ordeal that it would be okay, displaying encouraging words and positive thoughts to him as he hid in his room, trying to allow the other three to control the situation. It ended okay. Thomas had plans to visit in a month, making all of them feel better. And things continued as normal.

“Avenged, I say!” Roman shouted, banging the table with his fist, pulling Virgil from his thoughts.

“Prove it,” taunted Logan, his eyes flashing a rare, playfully sinister dare.

Patton craned his neck so that he can see Logan’s board. He then stretched to the side, extending his arms in a curve. His fingers indicated three on each hand.

Roman caught the hint while Logan was busy picking up a white peg, preemptively ready to mark Roman’s miss. Creativity flashed a dazzling smile, “We attack, C3!”

Logan stared at his board, not moving as his eyes scanned Roman over before he sighed, “Hit.”

Roman lit up in excitement at finally landing a blow as he rushed to grab a red peg, “Ah! Finally! I got you right where I want you.”

“Need I remind you that I still have all of my ships in play whereas you are down to your last hope, and it has the highest target area.”

“You still have to find it,” challenged Roman.

“My use of the ‘hunt with parity’ method is proving successful whereas your random shooting is clearly lacking in effective results,” explained Logan as he adjusted his glasses, clearly taking delight in his knowledge of game play. “I might suggest finding a new way of locating ships the next time you partake in this particular game.”

“Need I remind you that I have won against you twice before,” Roman taunted.

“Lucky guesses,” explained Logan as he twisted to glare playfully at Patton, “Or cheating.”

“It’s just an alliance,” Patton smiled. “I’d help you too if you needed it. It’s just a game.”

Roman gasped in mock horror, “This is more than a game, my dear Patton. This is war!”

Morality laughed, as he opened the oven to pull out a sheet of cookies, “No, that has to do with cards. I’m 90% sure.”

“Lo, it’s your turn,” Virgil prompted, becoming excited to see how the game might end.

“Of course,” Logan shook his head, “C5.”

“Aha, you cannot find the mighty SS Tayln, for they are a small but mighty vessel!” Roman exclaimed. “Miss.”

A sudden screech pierced through the Mindscape

Virgil winced and push his hands into his ears, trying to block it out. The mindscape shook violently, tossing Virgil unceremoniously on the floor. He curled up in a ball and shut his eye tight, waiting for it to stop. He felt his heart race as he sat there, this was a new experience. What the hell was happening?

It stopped as suddenly as it started. Virgil took a deep breath and opened his eyes. All of the lights were out, making it harder to see than it should have been. He carefully unfurled himself from the ball and stood up. Furniture was toppled over, paintings fallen on the ground, cabinets knocked askew. Something was missing…

The others. They weren’t there. The table sat empty except for the game boards and pegs, tossed on their sides from the quake. The chairs were turned over, empty.

“Guys?” Virgil’s mouth ran dry as he turned to look in the kitchen. No response. No Patton. The kitchen was empty, cookies thrown unceremoniously and broken on the floor. A couple of cabinets were open, their contents shaken around.

“Roman? Logan? Patton?”

This couldn’t be good.

Virgil felt his fight or flight start to build, causing him to panic now that his friends were missing. They had been right there in front of him playing a game, and then they were gone in an instant.

Virgil let his instinct guide him as he ran up the stairs and threw open the doors to Logan’s room. Logic would be able to explain what happened easily. He always knew what was going on and could help Virgil rationalize it.

Books laid all across the floor, thrown from the shelves from the quake. Virgil let out a sigh of relief when he looked at the bed and saw a peaceful Logan laying in his bed, appearing asleep. He was on his back, his hands folded on his chest, his eyes closed peacefully. If it wasn’t for his glasses still being on his face, Virge would have thought Logan simply was resting (Logic never kept his glasses on when sleeping). A shiver ran through Virgil as he realized how similar this positioning was to that of a corpse in a casket. Virgil tried to walk through the doorway to find himself blocked by some unknown force, a shimmer of blue sparking where he made contact with this imaginary wall.

“Logan? Logic, can you hear me?” he called, the growing panic coming into his words. His friend made no movement, no indication he had heard his friend.

“Shit,” Virgil muttered as he took a step back. He turned around to the doors to Patton’s room and threw them open. All of Patton’s favorite items were on the ground, many of them broken and scattered so that the actual floor was not visible. Pictures, stuffed animals, blankets, old journals, everything. Patton too was laying in his bed in the exact same manner as Logan, looking oddly peaceful in the chaos of the room.

“Patton?” Virgil screamed, his hand hitting the same barrier, the blue sparks a lighter blue. “Morality? Dad? Come on guys, this isn’t funny.”

His heart rate was running at breakneck speed, this wasn’t good. He sprinted down to Roman’s room and found the same thing. Roman was asleep peacefully in his ornate poster bed, his room in chaos. The ceiling was replaced with a turbulent black sky, very ominous to Anxiety. Once again, his hands were folded nicely on his chest.

“Roman, come on, get up!” cried Virgil. His voice caught as the tears came down his face. He hit the invisible wall keeping him away from entering his friend’s space, red sparks flying as he continued to hit it, praying it would break.

He turned slowly and looked at the hallway, his breathing rapid as he saw all of the open doors, yet no way to reach anyone. There was one door he hadn’t checked. It was rare for the door to even appear, and the idea of opening it without backup made Virgil shudder. It was the door to Deceit’s room.

All of Thomas’ Sides had a room, and each of them had a door. The only thing was that the doors only existed when the Side wanted them to or when Thomas was currently thinking or using that Side. Virgil had learned very early on that even when Deceit’s room was there, he should never open it. He had once, and it had almost destroyed him.

But desperation got the best of Virgil as he ran to the door and flung it open with surprising ease. The room was pitch black except for the bed in the middle of the space. It was a stone slab more than a bed really. A single light shone directly down on it, lighting up the form of Deceit, in the same position as the others. Virgil tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he reached out towards the Side. A sob escaped him as he was once again met with resistance, yellow sparks preventing him from reaching Deceit.

Virgil turned around and bit his fist as sobs racked through his body. This was a dream. It had to be. That or some kind of sick joke. He felt his legs give way underneath him as he collapsed in overwhelming fear.

A sharp, not quite painful, vibration came from the device on Virgil’s wrist as well as a high pitched beep, causing Anxiety to jump. It had never beeped at him, always his silent companion. He looked down at the screen, a bright light filling the hallway, causing him to squint to read the scrolling script:

LEVEL 4: 911!

Next Chapter

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or subtracted, as always)

A Virgil Affliction Tag List: @today-only-happens-once @niatsu-fullbuster @rileyfirstname @pineapplebutterscotch @thepoolofthedead @larkiaquail @jade-dragon226-fan @modcarbz @kiwisandsprinkles @anime-geek-girl32 @marion-fnaf-fan @dennithekit @icantbeme71097 @lemonofweirdness @fuck-spock @thebaagelboy @sanders-trash-4ever @patton-loves-coloring @i-will-physically-fight-you @hissesssss @jayzwonderland @ab-artist @thats-so-crash @heir-of-the-founders @dinorawrs1 @cadefailure @sakurahayasaki @itsdemonsjim @axahi-bitxh @julia6181 @voices-and-stardust @hghrules @ryuriel @chocopirate @generalfandomfabulousness @4-s-shadowlink @maizeandbirds @virgil-sandersss @raygelkitty @midnightalex12 @snow-cherry @notveryglittery @random-name-here @virgilient @cyberpunkjinx

#a virgil affliction #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #anxiety #anxiety attack #medication #deceit sanders #deceit #thomas sanders #battleship

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koyland · 6 years

Text

London: Become Human - Part.2

First of all I would like to thank the support you gave me with this fanfic, it is a wonderful feeling to know that you liked my story. Secondly, only after I posted part one of LDH did I notice the monstrous amount of mistakes I made, and you guys did not say anything! Please inform me if any error is found. This gives me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes and improve my writing.

Unfortunately I can not make promises when the next chapters will be released, but with your patience I will try my best not to be silent for long.

Special thanks to my sister @amandakoy, who is a brutal publisher and a great company to share my shenanigans. She gives me ideas, support and headaches. Love you,sis!

And once again this fanfic is dedicated to the wonderful @reformedkingsmanagent

Pair: Detective!CharlieXAndroid!Reader

Words: 1438

When you finally arrived at the crime scene, a small house on the outskirts of London, it was surrounded by police and neighbors. Stopping right in front of the house, Detective turned off the engine and watched you sitting in the passenger seat.

"You wait here. I will not take too long.”

"As you wish, Detective." You answered, looking at the rain beating against the windshield.

Detective Hesketh's grunt was too low for you to register, but his irritation was evident as he got out of the car toward the house. It did not take long for the warnings to appear in his vision.

Contradictory orders. Choose priority.

The Detective said to stay in the car, but you had clear orders to accompany and assist the investigations. That would not be possible inside the car.

Follow Detective Hesketh

You got out of the car and headed for the house passing through the curious neighbors, barred by the police unit keeping guard. Your proximity to the tape made the Android model PC200 block your entry. You were about to report your guidelines to the droid when the Detective pulled the sleeve of your uniform forward, sending you straight through the tape.

“It's with me.” He said, dropping my uniform and heading back toward the house. “What happened to "As you wish, Detective?” I told you to stay in the car.”

"Your orders contradict my instructions, Detective.”

“Instructions? Fuck! Here are your bloody instructions: do not speak and do not touch anything, dolly. And stay out of my way, understood?”

“Understood.”

“Hey, Charlie.” The police officer at the door spoke, motioning for them to enter. "We were beginning to think you would not show up."

"That was the plan until Barbie here found me.”

The officer evaluated you quickly before turning his attention back to the Detective.

“Finally got yourself an android, huh?” He teased. “Not bad. It's a beautiful model.”

"Fuck you, Rufus. Tell me what happened in this dump?

You entered the house and instantly the Detective pulled the sleeve of his trench coat close to his nose to block the scent of the deceased.

Listen to Briefing

Review Evidence

“The name of the victim is James Spancer.” Rufus indicated the corpse against the wall.

While your system automatically recorded the information collected about the victim, you began to observe the environment around you. The murder weapon, a kitchen knife, it was deposited a few inches away from the body. You crouched down and with two fingers, you took some of the blood from the knife and carried them to your mouth for analysis.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hesketh asked in horror behind you.

“I'm analyzing the blood. I can analyze samples in real time." You explained. The disgust on the Detective's face made you add. “I'm sorry, I should warned you.”

"Okay, just do not do that again in front of me. Never again.”

“Understood.”

The warnings in your vision confirmed that the blood collected was from James Spancer and indicated that the murder occurred nineteen days ago. Looking back at the knife your systems showed that there was no fingerprints on the weapon. Maybe an android was involved?

Following the blood trail, you went to the kitchen. The table and chairs were overturned, indicating the victim's confrontation with his murderer. Beside them there was the baseball bat with Spencer's fingerprints on the grip and Thurium's traces on barrel.

You kept investigating the house, now going to the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was small and filthy. You looked around until you stopped in front of the shower. The way the shower curtain looked carefully closed seemed suspicious to you. You opened the curtain and came across several inscriptions made on the tiles, the same word repeated compulsively.

rA9

On the floor of the shower, along with flowers, was a hand-carved humanoid-like statuette. Perhaps a religious offering?

Going back to the room, you walked up to the body to examine it. You have found traces of Red Ice around the mouth and fingers. Moving your gaze now to his chest you counted twenty-eight stab wounds, all applied in the chest region, near the heart.

Looking above the body there was the phrase in red. Your examination concluded that the letters had been written with the blood of the victim.

“I am alive." You read, getting closer to the wall, drawing the detective's attention on you.

“These letters are too perfect." You heard him say. "No human would be able to write that. Rufus, was this written in the victim’s blood?

“We'll know after the exams, but I'm think it is”.

You yourself could confirm both the facts pointed out by the Detective. The font of the letters was the regular letters font CyberLife.

Report to Det. Hesketh

Luckily the Detective was not far. He was leaning against the doorframe, showing signs of irritability as he watched you.

“Detective. I think I know what happened.” You said standing in front of him.

“Really, dolly? Go ahead then, I'm listening.”

“Everything started in the kitchen.” You said, directing him to follow you. “I think the victim attacked the droid with the bat.”

"That matches the evidence. Carry on, dolly! While I'm still young.”

“Then the android stabbed the victim.”

"As if it were self-defense?” He said, frowning. “Okay. What happened next?”

“The victim then fled into the room, falls to the ground and the android kills him with the knife.”

“All right.” He says like one who gives up on an argument. "Your theory is not totally ridiculous, but it still doesn’t tell us where the android went.

“He was damaged by the bat and lost some of Thirium.” You responded by remembering the traces found on the barrel of the bat.

“Lost some what?”

“Thirium. Also known as Blue Blood. It is the fluid that powers androids’ biocomponents. It evaporates after a few hours and becomes invisible to the naked eye.”

“Hum... But something tells me you still can see it, right?”

“Right.”

Find Deviant.

Look for traces of Blue Blood.

The trail was small but traceable. There was a small portion at the side of the body, making its way back to the kitchen. The path divided, one in the kitchen and the other in the hallway of the house. The blue blood in the kitchen, you supposed was from the initial confrontation, so you followed down the hall.

The trail indicated that the android went to the bathroom. Looking now more carefully you noticed the blue trail across the floor, piling up in large portions in front of the shower. The trail stopped there without any indication to where the android had gone. The only way out would be through the window above the toilet, but it was locked and with no trace of blue blood.

You must have missed something. Going back to the hallway you noticed peculiar marks on the wall. A ladder stood in that corner and it did not appear to be anywhere in the house. You looked up and saw the distinct shape of a hand made of Thirium in the attic door.

Returning to the kitchen, you picked up one of the chairs, causing confusion and frustration with the Detective for seeing you disturbing the crime scene. All of the photos of the crime scene were already properly taken care of for the investigation, so you simply answered that you needed to check something.

With the chair in position you got the necessary height to climb into the attic. The place was dark, dusty and without any indication that someone had been here in years. Silently you started looking for the android. From your peripheral vision, you captured movement.

You walked carefully to the back of the attic. You were approaching the only window in the place when It stepped out of the shadows.

Deviant located.

"I was just defending myself ... He was going to kill me." The bloody android whispered in a shaky voice. “I beg you. Do not tell them.”

“Y/N! What’s taking you so long?!” Detective called from downstairs.

You had a mission to fulfill.

“It's here, Detective!” You screamed.

You could hear curses and orders being given as Detective organized his men to go up in the attic and make the arrest.

The android seemed to cringe at the noise, showing the vulnerability of a prey that was already in the predator's mouth. Despite your face being the perfect picture of neutrality, you did not ignore the anguish look in his eyes or the LED glowing red in the dark.

Mission Accomplished.

#charlie hesketh x reader #reader #readerinsert #charlie hesketh #charlie hesketh imagine #kingsman imagines #dbhau #detroit become human #detroit become human au #au #android!reader #detective!charlie

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hysterialevi · 7 years

Text

In the Smoke pt. 10 (Cobblebats)

From Thomas’ POV

Sneaking through the auditorium, my drones quietly followed alongside me, hovering in the shadows as the debate carried on. So far, there had been no sign of Penguin or his men, and things were relatively peaceful, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. This debate was just a time bomb waiting to go off, and if I didn’t find Penguin before then, both Hill and Dent were dead.

Hopping from one beam to another, I suddenly caught the thick stench of blood and gunpowder, a sense of caution starting to grow in me. Looking down to find the source of the morbid odor, I spotted a grotesque pile of corpses lying in a room, and it was surrounded by a group of unfamiliar men. It didn’t take too much effort to recognize the GCPD uniform adorning the bodies, but I had no idea who the others were. Most-likely, they belonged to Penguin. Shit.

Activating my earpiece, I switched the line over to Gordon.

“Gordon,” I whispered, “I found one of your patrols. They’re dead. They’ve been killed by who I assume to be Penguin’s men.”

The lieutenant cursed. “Christ. That explains why they haven’t been responding. What about Penguin? Have you seen him anywhere?”

“Not yet. Though, I bet if I could get a hold on one of his men, I might be able to pull some info out of them.”

Gordon sighed. “I guess we’ve got no other choice at this point, do we? It’s clear that neither Hill nor Dent are leaving the debate anytime soon, and we don’t have long until Penguin decides to blow this place off the map. All right. Do what you gotta do. I’ll continue to keep watch on the perimeter--make sure no one tries to sneak in. Keep me updated, would you?”

“You’ll be the first to know if anything--”

“So sorry, ladies and gents,” out of nowhere, a boisterous voice on the TV interrupted me, causing me to snap my head towards the screen. I could see Penguin waltzing onto the stage, strutting like he didn’t have a care in the world as he approached the center. “As you might’ve guessed, there’s been a change to tonight’s program.”

Penguin stopped in his tracks, aiming a gun at the moderator. “First order of business--” a violent splash of blood sprayed from the back of the man’s head with a loud bang as he collapsed to the floor, and a choir of screams emitted from the crowd, “--firing the moderator!”

“Batman?” Gordon checked, “you still there? What’s going on?”

“It’s Penguin--” I hastily replied, “he’s just killed the moderator.”

“What!? Goddammit. We gotta get in there. Now. Do whatever you can to keep the people safe. My men and I will be there as soon as possible.”

“Understood.” I switched over to Alfred.

“Alfred, Penguin’s just begun his attack on the debate. I need you to pilot the drones while I deal with his men.”

“Of course, sir. Whenever you’re ready.”

Taking out a smoke grenade, I tossed the weapon into the room below and clouded up the air while Penguin’s men darted around in confusion, giving me the chance to leap down and deal with them up-close. I hurled a number of Batarangs in every direction, and used the grapple-gun to slingshot furniture directly into them, slamming them against the walls as they fired random bullets out of panic.

Dodging their reckless attacks, I bulldozed towards them and threw a flurry of punches, knocking them out one by one as quickly as I could while Penguin continued to terrorize the debate, parading around the stage like it was a damn play.

Once the smoke finally cleared up, I saw one of Penguin’s men weakly dragging himself across the floor in an attempt to reach his walkie-talkie, extending a wobbly arm out. Before he could get any closer though, I simply stomped my foot on his neck and applied just enough pressure to send him into unconsciousness, leaving me alone in the room.

“We need a new moderator,” Penguin announced, stepping off to the side to find a ‘volunteer.’ “You there! You’ll do!”

At first, I wasn’t incredibly concerned about what Penguin was doing at the moment, and focused all my attention on my current task, but when I saw who he had brought with him on stage, my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.

Being manhandled around and held at gunpoint by Penguin, was none other than my son, Bruce. He looked like hell, and judging by the multiple bruises on his skin, it was obvious that he had been beaten to some extent before the debate.

Clenching my fists, I felt a surge of anger flash through me and I almost tried to jump through the TV screen just so that I could strangle Penguin for what he did. He was going to regret targeting my son, and if I had any say in it, he was never going to do it again.

On the bright side though, at least I knew that Bruce was still alive. That meant tonight was my only chance to save him, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take it.

From Bruce’s POV

Oz shoved me towards the front of the stage with an iron grip, making sure that everyone could see me--especially Harvey--and at some points, it almost felt like he forgot we were just acting. I didn’t know what Oz’s plans with Harvey were, but just by glancing over at the man, I could tell that he was about to start flipping tables while Hill was just frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

“Go on, then--” Oz gave me a little nudge, “--introduce the candidates!”

I said nothing in return, just like he told me to do earlier, and kept my mouth shut as everyone nailed their gazes onto me, waiting to see what he had planned next.

Oz leaned in so close that he was right next to my ear, his breath tickling my neck.

“Stage fright, huh? All right, I’ll get you started...but this is your show.”

He flamboyantly gestured over to Hill with insincere excitement, dragging me along with him. “On the left--hard of heart, soft in the gut--our down and dirty incumbent, Mayor Hill! And on the right--always smiling to your face--our despicable DA, Harvey Dent!”

To my surprise, before Oz could continue, Harvey spoke up.

“...bird...mask...guy,” he blurted out awkwardly, “...whatever your name is--”

This man is the District Attorney, I told myself. This is the man running for mayor.

Oz almost lost it right there, but regained his composure. “Call me Penguin.”

“Yes, of course,” Harvey complied. “Penguin then. We will play your game--just, please,” he looked over at me with an amount of care I’d never seen in anyone else other than my own parents, “let these people go.”

I could practically feel Oz smiling under his mask,. “Oh, I wish it were that easy, Dent. But, you see, this city’s got a real problem when it comes to tellin’ the truth. Lie after lie, those at the top of Gotham only get worse with each passing year, and its citizens are still blind to the hypocrisy, but not anymore.”

Oz took out a syringe of the same blue chemical we saw in the footage with his mother and pointed it directly at my neck, the needle just kissing my skin.

“I’m giving you one chance, Wayne. Tell everyone the truth about what your family’s done--what you father’s done--and why you’re really so bloody powerful. Do this, and I might just let you go.”

I did my best to look frightened, and the audience actually seemed to buy it. Our plan was working.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. “My father’s done nothing.”

He threw a light punch to my stomach, but it was enough to make me cough. Oz was definitely stronger than he looked.

“This,” he exclaimed, “is why Gotham’s so full of corruption! Because no one’s brave enough to spill the truth. Too damn worried about protecting their own reputation.” He flicked the side of the syringe. “Sorry, mate, but it looks like I’m gonna have to force it outta you.”

Oz pushed my head slightly so that he could access my neck easier, and prepared to stick me with the insane drug, until Harvey nearly threw himself over the podium, interrupting the procedure.

“Wait!” He reached an arm out.

Judging by Oz’s reaction, this was exactly what he had in mind. “Ah, got somethin’ to say, Dent?”

Harvey cautiously inched his way to us, careful not to make any sudden movements.

“Please,” he begged, “don’t...don’t hurt him. If you must take someone, then take me.”

Wait. I paused. This was not a part of the plan. No one ever said anything about drugging Harvey--or at least, they didn’t to me. I glanced back at Oz in bewilderment, silently asking for an explanation from my “captor,” only to be ignored as he pushed me off to the side.

“Your compassion will be the end of you, Dent.” Oz said.

Harvey lowered his head in shame. “...I know.” But he wasn’t done yet.

Striding across the stage and over to me, all of us observed his next movements in heightened curiosity as he warmly approached me, leaving only mere centimeters between us. Harvey gently grabbed my hand and began stroking my cheek with the other, rendering me all but immobile. What the hell was he doing?

“...I can’t believe it’s taken this for me to say it,” Harvey whispered in a mixture of sorrow and regret, “but...I love you, Bruce.”

It didn’t look like anyone else was able to hear what he just said, but the news hit me like a truck of guilt. Here I was, taking advantage of one of my closest friends, and luring him into a trap that was most-likely going to kill him, and he just admitted to loving me. What kind of monster was I?

Even after Harvey let go of my hand, I remained motionless and wide-eyed, blinking in shock as the other man allowed Oz to dose him with the drug.

“...no,” I shook my head at Oz, no longer okay with where this was going, “wait--”

Before I could object any further, Roland wasted no time in pulling me off the stage and restraining me with nothing but his own, raw strength. For a moment, I tried to struggle out of his insane grasp, only to have my arms bent in painful directions as a warning.

Having no intentions to get injured, I stayed confined in Roland’s hold, helplessly watching as Oz jabbed the needle into Harvey’s flesh, causing his veins to transform into an aggressive blue and his body to start twitching. What had I done to him?

Just then, the doors to the auditorium blasted open, revealing a line of police officers in the entryway with Gordon in the middle. The other Children of Arkham immediately went to work and started attacking them, a storm of bullets bolting through the air as civilians scurried around in panic, all hell breaking loose within the span of a few seconds. And as if things weren’t chaotic enough already, Batman himself suddenly jumped into the scene as well, swatting our men away like they were flies.

Overwhelmed by the hectic turn of events, I sat off to the side of stage, paralyzed in place even though Roland had released me long ago, watching the hurricane unfold, until a familiar scream reached my ears.

Whipping around, I saw Harvey lying defenselessly on the wooden floor with Oz towering above him, about to smash a detached, searing-hot spotlight directly onto his face. Breaking out of my stupor-like state, I hopped up from my position and began sprinting towards the two of them in hopes of preventing what was about to be a horrible accident--that was--until I was yanked downwards by an unknown assailant, and practically engraved into the floor beneath me.

Straddling me in order to keep me from escaping, Hill locked me in place with his own weight, and snatched the syringe Oz had used earlier, staring at the small amount of liquid that still remained in the tube.

“He’ll kill both of us if one of us doesn’t tell the truth!” Hill babbled in a frantic tone. “I’m sorry, Bruce. This has to be done.”

Not even having the time to resist, a prick of pain abruptly stung my arm, and my vision started to blur with a blue tint as the world around me spun in a slow, disorienting manner, Hill’s figure duplicating in front of me.

I had no idea what was happening or where Oz had gone, but all the noise in the auditorium had blended into a frenzied, echoing mess, and an uncontrollable spark of rage began to ignite inside me.

“...Bruce...?” Hill’s voice bounced off the walls of my skull like a bell.

Without even meaning to, I grabbed at the man’s neck with a level of strength I didn’t know I contained and hurled him under me, switching our positions.

“You,” I growled in almost an inhuman tone as I gripped his collar, “you killed my mother...!” I slammed the back of his head into the floor. I could hardly recognize myself. “You took her away from me!” Another slam. “You’re a murderer...and you’re going to pay...!”

As if my body had a mind of its own, I found myself throwing punch after punch at Hill, unable to stop as my knuckles only got more bruised and bloody, the mayor gaping at me with terror in his eyes, his life draining from them.

No, I mentally shouted at myself, what are you doing!? Stop!

Despite all my attempts to resist it, I kept on beating the fallen politician and only continued to ravage the swollen pulp that was once his face, hammering his head into nothing but a red mush.

Stop, I yelled once again.

I couldn’t.

Stop!

I could hear the voices of other people trying to pull me off, including Gordon and my own father, screaming at me in desperation, but to no avail.

STOP!

Suddenly, my vision started to darken, and I felt myself weakening with every passing moment, my body finally giving in to the drug as I collapsed into unconsciousness, and the world turned black.

#cobblebats #batman telltale #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #harvey dent #fanfic #story

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