The term Dead Dove: Do Not Eat originated with the show Arrested Development where a character opened a bag labeled Dead Dove: Do Not Eat and saw a dead dove inside of the bag before saying: I don't know what I expected.
In terms of fandom - it pretty much means what you see is what you should expect, especially as it pertains to "taboo" or "problematic" themes within a work.
What you see is what you get.
Dead Dove: Injustice January Day 9: Agatha stole the Lindbergh baby
Summary: 1932, Agatha Harkness is running a business within the witch community. Her latest victim becomes one of later prominence.
Word count: 1.6k
Pairings: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal (implied)
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Kidnapping, magic use, wrongful conviction of an innocent person, crime for money/power/notoriety
Music inspo:
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*Don't like the warnings? Don't read! 😊
"I'm glad we found you, Ms. O'Connor...we really needed someone who would be able to give Charles Jr. proper round the clock care. His parents are very busy and important people, as you know,"
Agatha nods her head and keeps her hands clasped in front of her to show the utmost attention. She had been hired on as the baby's nanny.
Finally.
Charles Jr. was the son of Charles and Anne Lindbergh and Agatha, knew the potential this baby would bring her if nothing more than both fame and fortune among witches who wanted her head.
It was a small and fairly easy price to pay to ruin the lives of these two people and their little family. It would certainly make headlines but Agatha was prepared for that.
In fact, she wanted that.
She wanted the notoriety attached to her and what she had done; whispered about in circles within the witch community. She would be the one to do daring things because no one else had the power she had.
Or the smarts, or the wits.
No one would stoop that low to use their powers to pose as a nanny.
But Agatha Harkness would.
"Let me show you up to the nursery, Ms. O'Connor..."
"Oh, Agnes is just fine, Ms. Gow. I'm nothing but the help, is all."
The woman smiled at that before turning on her heel to lead Agatha out from the foyer and up the grand staircase to the baby's room. Agatha followed quickly behind her without missing a beat.
The door to the nursery was opened as the two women made their way inside. Charles Jr., a bouncing toddler, was standing upright in his crib with a cherub smile on his little face. He warmed at the sight of Betty Gow, the head nanny, but quickly changed his little expression to curiosity at the sight of Agatha behind her.
"Now, Charles, this is Agnes...she's going to be helping me to take care of you! Wave to Ms. O'Connor, sweet boy!"
He continues to give Agatha an unsure look but doesn't pay her any more attention after that. The smile returns on his face as he focuses back on Betty.
"Such a sweet boy, I'm sure I'll fit in perfectly here, Ms. Gow. Thank you again for this opportunity to work for you and the Lindbergh's,"
Agatha croons as she gives Betty her best and biggest grin before taking a step closer to the crib. With her hands no longer clasped before her, Agatha lifts her left with a slight wiggle of her fingers.
Charles' once unsure expression towards her turns into that soft, sweet smile he only reserved for Betty.
Easy as pie.
"Well then, I have some errands to run. If you need anything, Agnes, it'll all be in this room and the bathroom just down the hall and to your right. Food and whatnot are in the kitchen; there's staff in there too if you need anything else."
And with that, Betty placed a soft kiss on the top of Charles' head before she turned and left the nursery. Charles was now totally in Agatha's care.
The window was closing with each second and Agatha knew she had to act quickly.
She reached down into the crib to pick up Charles; bouncing him up and down against her hip. He was perfect and she was glad she settled on this baby boy.
Agatha takes a quick glance around the room before finding the perfect place to leave her note.
Near the windowsill where Charles and Anne would no doubt search after she concluded her job.
The piece of paper is lifted out from the pocket of her dress and laid flat with the text down. Obviously, she had not been stupid enough to write it with her own hand. She had paid some random man in a bar to write out what she wanted. The money was enough to shut him up and if worse came to worse; if he even dreamed of going to the police to rat her out.
Agatha knew where to find him; her magic attached to him like a beacon in the night.
Dear Sir! Have 50.000$ redy 25 000$ in 20$ bills 15000$ in 10$ bills and 10000$ in 5$ bills After 2–4 days we will inform you were to deliver the mony. We warn you for making anyding public or for notify the Police the child is in gut care. Indication for all letters are Singnature and 3 hohls.
She held onto Charles tightly as she opened up the bedroom window with one hand and made sure it stayed open. Everything else had been set.
Including the ladder that had been left propped up against the window from some worker who was stupid enough to leave it there.
She hadn't even needed to pay anyone off for that one.
"Alright, Charles, it's time to go with your Auntie Agnes..."
She moved quickly out of the nursery and down the stairs she had come up, past the foyer and out the front door. It was common for nannies to take Charles out for some fresh air and with the amount of people bustling around, no one stopped to pick up on anything odd about her doing so.
No one had seen her and with an extra layer of magic, no one would see her.
Or, Charles for that matter.
They were gone before the morning turned to afternoon; before anyone put two and two together and realized the Lindbergh's baby had gone missing along with his new nanny.
-
She's glad she had the baby swaddled in a blanket before taking him away from his family as the night grows cold but their destination is close.
The house she comes upon is made of wood so dark it's almost black white white stones leading to the door as if they were made of the moon itself.
Unmistakable to the trained eye what kind of woman would live there.
Agatha covers the baby's face with the blanket to shield him from the cold as she walks up to the door and raps on it with urgency; quickly peering over her shoulder to see if she had been followed.
She has not.
She breathes a sigh of relief as the door swings open and she is ushered inside without a word.
"Well, well...look who kept up their end of the bargain. Glad you didn't try to con me out of a baby, Harkness,"
The woman beams as she extends her hand to remove the blanket covering Charles' face. The boy, with his head resting on Agatha's shoulder, is fast asleep.
"Did anyone see you? Question you? Were you followed here?"
The woman asks as her finger gently rubs against the soft cheek of the child despite the harshness in her tone.
Agatha shakes her head,
"I'm no fool, Palmira...you should know me better than that."
The woman laughs as she pulls her hand away to then extend both of her arms. A signal Agatha knows all too well.
A signal she had given and received between Rio when their son was still alive.
She hands Charles over the Palmira without a word and watches as the witches' face beams with the weight of a baby in her arms.
"I'm surprised you went through with this, Harkness...after all you've done..."
Agatha stands there in silence and allows the rage and anger to wash over herself before she opens her mouth to ask,
"And was is it that I've done?"
Palmira bounces the baby against her chest as she stares Agatha down with such disgust in her eyes it almost feels like a slap to the face,
"Why, kill your own son for the power of the Darkhold. How many more babies have you fed to Mephisto to keep all that power?"
Agatha can basically feel herself bristling at the statement. If she wasn't a smart woman, Palmira would be dead by now by her hand and Charles Jr. would be returned to his loving family.
Unfortunately, Agatha needed the money and power and notoriety to get through more than she needed a baby to be safe.
"Well...I guess that makes me the expert here, doesn't it? Who better than to steal you a baby."
Agatha takes one final look at the witch and the boy in her arms before she turns her back on them both and silently excuses herself out of the house.
-
Agatha walks into her home and closes the door behind her. It's silent and empty; she can basically hear the echoes rattle through the rooms.
She hadn't seen Rio in years and doubts she would see her anytime soon.
She hadn't stopped thinking of her son in years and doubts she would ever stop thinking about the little boy both she and Rio couldn't save.
The news about Charles Jr. would surely hit the papers in the morning and an investigation and hunt for the baby would be underway by morning.
None of it would trace back to her or Palmira and the boy would grow up not knowing his true parents. Raised instead by a witch who so badly wanted a child of their own they paid Agatha, the witch killer, the woman who would sacrifice babies to obtain power, to do her underlings for a pretty penny and a nice addition to her name.
The random note would eventually lead the police to believe that one Bruno Richard Hauptmann was the mastermind behind the kidnapping.
Dead Dove: Injustice January Day 8: FREE CHOICE *Senor Scratchy runs a crime syndicate
Summary: When Detective Agnes O'Connor starts linking strange occurrences and unexplained moments in history, the mastermind behind it is not all who they seem to be.
Word count: 1.7k
Pairings: Detective Agnes O'Connor x Agent Rio Vidal, Agatha Harkness x Detective Agnes O'Connor (implied)
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Swearing, smoking, pet names, liminal space, magic use, mental manipulation, organized crime, mentions of crimes/murder/kidnapping/cannibalism/cults/gun violence/hanging/illegal selling/making of alcohol
Music inspo: She's Kerosene - The Interrupters, What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Paranoid - The Beaches
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Agnes glares at the NO SMOKING sign above her and rolls her eyes before digging into the breast pocket of her flannel shirt. She digs out her pack of cigarettes and a BIC lighter with a hockey decal wrap around on it. The pack is opened and a cigarette is placed between her lips; the lighter is flicked and the flame glows bright in the darkness of her office at work.
NO SMOKING
"Fuck that,"
She whispers through clenched teeth and pursed lips as the flame hits the front of the cigarette.
Now she can really get to work.
Chief Jones had thought she was fucking losing her mind the day before today. She had dropped off a written up report on his desk and hurried off to lunch without a second thought.
What she had typed up was bold; probably the most bold report she's ever conceived. There was no way of knowing how it would be handled.
Everything had changed since she was asked to report on scene two weeks ago due to 'suspicious activity' at a Waffle House.
She had laughed at the call and honestly couldn't believe the department was wasting their time and manpower on shit like this. Agnes had bitched about it to Vidal as she got ready to head out there and solve this mysterious suspicious activity that was most likely some stupid kids fucking around.
Now, as Agnes circles back in her memory to that day two weeks ago, her left hand shakes as she holds her pen and steadies herself to recall what her memory allows her.
What Agatha allows her to remember.
-
First off, it had been a bitch to try and find parking outside of the restaurant. Agnes grumbled as she circled the parking lot twice and had to wait for someone to get into their car and leave so she could take their spot. As she climbed out of her car, nothing at first glance seemed amiss.
No suspicious activity happening here.
The detective sighed as she slammed her car door and swore under her breath at not believing how bullshit this entire thing was. For her to waste time and resources and not to mention the gas in her tank was really fucking something.
Maybe she would request time off when she got back to really stick it to the department that if they were going to waste their time with her, at least let her waste her time at home in front of a hockey game.
Agnes reaches the door, brings her left hand out to grab the handle to pull it open for herself. She feels a rush of something pass through her that she can't explain; almost like a cold wind. She shrugs it off and decides it's the change between the air inside the restaurant and the air outside. She steps inside.
She's sitting at a Formica table with a menu in front of her and her red pen in her left hand.
She hadn't brought a red pen.
Agnes lifts her head to look around the restaurant and finds it empty despite all the cars in the parking lot.
Not a single soul is sitting, walking, talking, eating.
No one is around but her and her red pen.
She glances back down at the menu and finds she had circled some of the letters; frantic and wide. She had scratched right through the laminate in some parts.
Words like WHO and OWL and WOEFUL stick out to her at first glance. But, as Agnes knows, your brain will try its best to pick out patterns to make sense of nonsense.
Even when inside a Waffle House that should be filled to the brim with customers and workers.
She tries to laugh but feels a crushing weight on her jaw and realizes then that there's fingers digging into her skin and pressing against her teeth. Cool, slim fingers attached to a feminine hand ripe with veins.
Agnes would have moaned in pleasure at the sight if this had been any other happenstance that didn't make her feel utterly fucking confused.
The detective drags her gaze to look directly across from herself.
Agnes looks into her own eyes peering back at her.
"Whatthefuck..."
Her voice is muffled and strained; barely able to speak through her pushed out lips and the stoppage of her jaw. She hears the woman across from her laugh under her breath and in some way, Agnes had heard that laugh before.
It was her own, just darker, deeper.
"We've always been good at solving things, haven't we, Hon?"
Agnes breathes hard through her nose as she pulls her focus away just ever so slightly to try and take in the entirety of the woman's face. It's herself, like a mirror placed before her.
Agnes' breathing picks up and the pen falls from her left hand onto the table, rolling to the right as it moves over the edge and falls to the floor below.
The detective smacks her palm down onto the menu, against the table, as she tries to catch herself from reeling. Her mind feels like it's going to melt.
"Relax...I haven't even started yet. We haven't even started yet. But you, oh you, Detective O'Connor...you've been putting your nose into things where it doesn't belong,"
The woman across from Agnes laughs again as she finally lets go of Agnes' jaw; a motion that pushes it away towards the left. That same hand recoils but stays up near the woman's face; wrist tilted with her fingers curled like a wave about to break.
"Whatthefuck..."
"You've said that already, Dear."
Agnes stares the woman down; daggers shooting from her eyes as she tries to piece this all together. If this was the 'suspicious activity' someone had called in about, they had no idea what those fucking words meant.
This was a hallucinogenic nightmare.
"I'm sure there's some things you remember...stored deep in that detective brain of yours...will you allow me to jog your memory?"
As Agnes tries to shake her head no, she finds herself unable to do so.
She can't do anything. She can't move.
Her eyes darted across the woman's face and downwards to her hands. She can't move those either. She's been rendered completely immobile.
Helpless.
Her breathing picks up through her nose and her eyes go wide and the woman across from her merely shakes her head and uncurls her fingers just to curl them again.
Over and over, like waving grass in a meadow.
"1960...1865...1971...1692...you were there...you were in so many other places, too. Right alongside me...together."
Agnes feels as if she's about to pass out until she feels something soft graze against the fingers of her right hand. Her eyes drift down to see what she can without moving her head to get a better look.
A white and light brown round object that moves slowly.
"You've been helping me detective, with that sharp wit and quick brain of yours. I can pick you up and plop you down just about anywhere to get what I need done and no one bats an eye. You're a great pawn in the grand scheme of things and this place, this goddamn hole in the wall, is the entryway to all those places and all those moments."
The round object moves further away from Agnes' hands and she realizes, as it comes in a much better view from her restricted line of sight, that it's a rabbit.
"I send you there and watch you so intently and you get away with it every time. No one batted an eye when you let those innocent women burn at the stake or, when you held that screaming baby in your hands after stealing it away from its family. You and I, Agnes, we're something special."
The rabbit lays itself down closer to the woman and, to Agnes, it seems as if it's watching her, too.
"Oh, don't mind him, he likes to sit in for these kind of things, you know,"
The woman brings her right hand up from her lap to gently pet the rabbit's back. His back.
What the fuck is happening?
"What's happening? You know exactly what's happening. I'm using you as a vessel because that's what you are. That's what Wanda made you out to be. Another puppet, a perfect pawn. I get to use you all throughout this terrible, horrible history to gain power. You're the catalyst in all of this; feeding me. How do you think I've gotten this strong?"
The rabbit holds Agnes' attention; their gaze locked and Agnes, can't help but to feel what can only be described as a bubbling sensation in her brain.
A train explodes.
A lone bullet rips through a suit.
A bottle of unlicensed, illegal alcohol falls and crashes to the floor.
A baby wails in the cold.
A group of women bow and kiss the feet of their leader.
Women are hung and mouths are full of human flesh; a lone, unknown person drops from a plane with a briefcase in their hand.
Agatha's laugh pierces through the bubbling and it feels like Agnes' brain has popped like a soapy bubble.
-
Agnes stubs out her cigarette as she gets to the end of it. She looks down at her report and sighs.
She's doubting herself; asking if this even matters.
After the hex, everything and anything had seemed possible in the realm of what was real and what was fabricated.
Could all these instances throughout history really be caused by Agatha Harkness for some greater reach of power?
Was it worth telling some tiny police department in Westview, New Jersey?
The NO SMOKING sign still glows at Agnes angrily and the longer the detective lets the red light shine into her eyes, the more she realizes she doesn't remember just how she had gotten back home two weeks ago from the Waffle House.
It had felt like a fog in her mind and a place that teetered on the edge of existing and not.
'Liminal Space' is what she managed to dig up at the library with a little help from Dottie.
It had been two weeks and Agnes still cannot shake the feeling of being used from the woman sitting across from her at that Formica table. She can't even shake the feeling of how she was watched by those rabbit eyes; small marble orbs that seemed to have no beginning and no end.
Dead Dove: Injustice January Day 6: Coven member is responsible for the JFK assassination
Summary: 1963, between Westview and Dallas, Detective Agnes O'Connor discovers the disappearances of her former partners, Agent Rio Vidal and Agent Wanda Maximoff. When the two missing Agents come to light, their reasoning is one that Agnes instantly sides with.
Warnings: Assassination, guns/gun violence, murder/assassination plot, murder, death, swearing, magic use, magic manipulation, abuse mention, mentions of a sexual relationship
Music inspo: These Boots Are Made for Walkin' - Nancy Sinatra, For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield, Gimme Shelter - The Rolling Stones, Fortunate Son - CCR
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Detective Agnes eyes the stack of manila folders on her desk and sighs loudly. It has just been a little over a week since her partner abruptly disappeared. It hadn't been the first time something like this had happened to her. Her last partner before Agent Rio Vidal was one Wanda Maximoff and just like Agent Vidal, Agent Maximoff suddenly couldn't be found.
Poof.
Now, Agnes has to fill out paperwork on top of her own work; cases that she can't let get cold even though she would have had the help of Agent Vidal at her side.
Not just losing another coworker but another lover.
Of course her love life had got all tangled again with another agent that was assigned to her. Her and Wanda were together for a long time until she vanished and when Agent Vidal fell into her lap, Agnes knew it would be a wash, rinse and repeat of her last relationship.
It was easier to keep tabs on one another when you both showed up to work at the same place everyday and left together every night.
But once again, as if some curse fell upon Agnes, her new partner and lover had vanished too.
Maybe it was an FBI thing; to pull agents without a warning to anyone else, even the people they were reporting to and with.
Agnes sighs again as she reaches for the first folder on her desk to bring it in front of her and flip it open. The head shot of Agent Vidal stares back at her; the picture they used for her work ID. Everything has been filled in accordingly and correctly; pulled from every available source of information from both the FBI and their local police station. There was nothing left unwritten; Agent Rio Vidal was like an open book.
Open until it closed and she was nowhere to be found.
Agnes closes the folder once more and reaches over to the phone on her desk, lifts the receiver with her left hand and spins rotary with her right. She puts in the only known phone number Agent Vidal had provided; the motel she was staying at for only a few months before Agnes opened her heart, home and legs for her partner. The rest of her time was spent at Agnes' home and the motel had long been abandoned.
No one picks up and Agnes isn't surprised.
She hangs up the receiver and tries again, this time, with the last known phone number of Agent Wanda Maximoff. Another number she knows by heart.
Agnes is sure the line is going to keep ringing until it goes dead but at the last possible second, someone picks up.
Agnes' heart is in her throat,
"Hello? Wanda? Wanda, it's Agnes...are you there? Hello?"
Another second of dead silence until a voice, barely audible, wavers through the telephone line and into Agnes' ear,
"Westview Motel. Room 14. 4:22 am."
And the line goes dead in Agnes' ear.
She shivers as her hand shakes to pull the phone away from herself and down into the cradle.
The detective stares at the worn black phone sitting on her desk just off to the side of the stacks of folders. Without a doubt in her mind, the voice on the other end of the call was Wanda's.
She was so sure she could have bet money on it.
Agnes' eyes flick upwards to the wall before her to check the time on the clock. If she leaves now, she'll be able to make it with time to spare.
She had almost forgotten that she had spent almost another full night at work trying desperately to get back into some routine after the disappearance of her partner.
The files on her desk would have to remain untouched once more with hopefully some new answers to stuff inside of them to put at least two cases to rest.
The disappearances of Agent Rio Vidal, FBI and Agent Wanda Maximoff, FBI.
-
Agnes parks her car just outside the motel and walks the five or so minutes. She doesn't know if she's being followed or even watched and she doesn't want to draw attention to any of the guests at the motel. Sure, she has her gun on her but she would rather not have to shoot and kill on the motel's property.
The autumn air is brisk and the slight breeze makes her cheeks sting as she walks towards the wind. She keeps herself bundled up with her coat and pulls the collar up against her face. Room 14 is just three more doors down from where she currently is.
She notices no light peeking through the curtains and onto the sidewalk in front of her.
Maybe it was a set up all along.
Agnes stops and thinks it all over. She thinks about the way the phone was picked up on the last ring; the number belonging to the phone in Room 14. She thinks about the voice on the other end that was, without a doubt, Wanda Maximoff's.
The motel name, the room number, the time.
What was there to deflect any of this into something it wasn't?
Agnes lets her left hand drift down to her hip as she flips open the hold of her gun tucked away in its holster. She keeps her hand there and readies herself to pull out the weapon if need be. Standing before the door with the brass 14 hanging from it, Agnes lifts her right hand to knock on the well-worn wood.
The detective doesn't hear or see anything but within seconds, the door is opened just a crack and from what Agnes can see without any light to help her eyes, is the red hair resting gently on a feminine shoulder.
Wanda.
Agnes uses the toe of her boot to keep the door open and inch it wider until it's enough for her to slip in without making much of a scene. The motel room is dark and the curtains are drawn and Agnes can make out another figure sitting predominantly on the edge of the bed.
Vidal.
Agnes closes the door behind her in silence and waits for whatever the hell this meeting is. She hadn't seen Wanda in months; Vidal weeks. Now here they both were, her lovers and her partners.
The detective felt like her mind was suddenly swimming in very deep water.
"We need to catch the next flight out to Dallas,"
Is all Vidal said from her seat on the bed. Agnes still can't make out her face and the expression that must cover it. She can't make out if the agent is annoyed or excited; if she even cares that Agnes is standing before her now after weeks of being missing from the police department.
Agnes wants to ask them so many things, things she may not even understand from her ranking. She even wants to ask if they know about one another, about her. Do they know they've both shared her? As a partner and as a lover?
Does it matter?
"What's in Dallas, Agent Vidal?"
Agnes asks and worries how her tone sounds. It teeters between worried and annoyed. A call would have been fucking nice from either of them, at least she could have updated their file saying they were both alive instead of unknown.
"The president of the United States, Detective O'Connor."
It's only then that Agnes can see out of the corner of her eye Wanda's expression changing ever so slightly. There's an air of superiority there and the meaning behind it sends a shiver down Agnes' spine.
-
Vidal checks her Italian Carcano M91 once more; the scope leveled to her eye as she peers out through it.
Everything below her is in perfect view and within the correct calculated distance from where she perches. The Texas School Book Depository building was ideal.
Vidal checks her breath as she steadies herself and makes sure her hands aren't shaking. She needs this to be one and done. A perfect shot. She can't let her and Agent Maximoff walk out of here without their target being hit.
A former FBI agent who had no business being in a higher level of government now. He was an agent who used his rank and badge to hurt innocent women within the FBI and outside of it. He, of course, was occupying as security detail for the President of the United States.
Despite it being a risky shot, it was the only one the agents had. No one would be expecting it and if they made the shot, it would look good for the President to have survived a possible assassination attempt.
Wanda and Vidal made the deal pretty early on; shaking hands on it and deciding they would need Detective Agnes O'Connor as well.
Why?
She could work on the ground and signal from below; pretend to be a regular plain clothes cop to mill around and give them the go-ahead when their former FBI agent was in close range.
It seemed easy and seamless enough to the three of them and Agnes couldn't say no to putting an abuser as high ranking as this former FBI agent down.
He had attacked so many women but with the FBI being a boys club, no one believed any of the victims who dared come forward.
"Eyes on Briggs?"
Vidal calls into her walkie with a calm, short breath. She waits for the crackle as Agnes' voice comes over,
"He's here. Back seat, left side. Green tie."
Vidal nods her head as she watches Agnes from her scope before she tilts her gun back so she can spot the car that seats the President and the First Lady. Briggs is where Agnes says he is.
Vidal pulls her face away from the scope and looks over her shoulder. No one is there in the building with her. Wanda should be waiting patiently at their meeting spot with the getaway car that she and Agnes will take to their halfway spot. That's where Vidal will meet them after she disposes of the gun in her hands.
Her attention goes back to the scope and back to follow Agnes.
Vidal can hear the crowd cheering which means the car is now in full view of all the on-lookers. Agnes watches with a steady gaze and determined eyes and Vidal waits for the signal.
Agnes brings her left hand up to her neck as if she's meant to center a necklace that hangs there.
One again, Vidal tilts the gun back to get a clear shot of Briggs. Her trigger finger begins to curl as she gets the cross-hairs right on their target. He's smiling and waving and obviously enjoying his moment in the spotlight sitting in front of the President.
There is no hesitation from Agent Rio Vidal as her trigger finger curls to its full extent.
A fraction of a second seems to pass as Vidal continues to stare into the scope. Her mind stalls for a second longer as she watches Briggs duck and then pop his head back up.
He hadn't been shot.
Agent Vidal so badly wants to pull her eye away from the scope but she needs to see the extent of her actions. Briggs is reaching forwards with one hand and to his right with the other as he tries to keep the First Lady down and stop the bleeding of the President in front of him.
She had hit the wrong target.
She had shot the President.
She had no possible way of hitting him, not with her trajectory.
Vidal swivels her gun to spot Agnes who is no longer at her post. The detective is gone without a trace and Vidal starts to panic.
There is, however, a slight tinge of something, almost like a sunbeam but not the right colour.
Purple.
A slight purple mist is left where Agnes once stood and as Vidal takes in a long, deep breath, she can basically smell magic in the air.
Detective Agnes O'Connor had been a pawn, a puppet.
Dead Dove: Injustice January Day 5: Witchcraft/Heresy
Summary: In a desperate attempt to gain resources and riches, Agatha and Rio come up with a deadly plot.
Word count: 2.2k
Pairings: Salem!Agatha Harkness x Salem!Rio Vidal
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Swearing, depictions of sexual acts, kissing, murder plot, poisoning, emotional/mental/physical infiltration/manipulation, religion/religious trauma, sickness/disease, falsifying involvement, accusations of witchcraft/satanism, murder, succubus, public execution, death resulting in fire, hanging, physical ailments/sickness/disease
Music inspo: Salem's Secret - Peter Gundry, Everybody Scream album - Florence + The Machine, War Pigs - Black Sabbath, Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde, Satan Is His Name - Holly Golightly
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"Can you do it? For me?"
Agatha's voice is a hushed whisper that Rio barely hears. The fire crackles between them as Agatha stretches out her arms so that she can warm her hands against the warmth of the fire.
"Saint Anthony's fire?"
Rio whispers back just as hushed as she stares at the side of Agatha's face. The witch looks pleased with herself as she turns her hands to warm the back of them.
There is so much more that Rio wants to ask of her partner but doesn't know how to form the words on her tongue. She understands to a degree but there is so much inside of Agatha that she will never decipher.
Rio can only see so much before a veil seems to stretch across her eyes.
Agatha gets up from her seat to get closer to Rio, standing before her as she blocks her partner from the fire. Rio looks up unexpectedly and knows exactly how the rest of the night will unfold. Rio rises from her seat and falls into Agatha's arms. Her face pressed into the side of Agatha's neck and all she can smell is something wild, something secret.
Pine mixed with sweat; mixed with dirt and magic that lingers behind.
"We need to do this...we need to survive. I need to survive,"
Agatha coos as she pets the back of Rio's head, her fingers snagging in Rio's unkempt hair. She hears The green witch sigh against her neck; wetting it from her exhale.
Rio nods against Agatha's skin and feels those strong and safe arms let go of her, moving away so that they stand inches from one another now. Agatha's eyes only mirror her plan back to Rio; something destructive. Manipulative.
The two women can see the tiny dots of light in the clearing go out.
The small settlement just a few yards away from them have blown out their lights for the night and the only sounds to signify life are the heavy grunts and footsteps of farm animals settling for the night.
Agatha's hand finds Rio's as they drop down near the fire and settle down for the night. They're going to need their rest to fulfill their plan for tomorrow and the days to come.
Agatha falls asleep with a smirk on her lips and Rio, holds Agatha tight and tries her best to find purpose in Agatha's plan.
-
The men are suspicious about the unknown woman with the purple robe and brooch at her neck but the women welcome Agatha or, Agnes as she refers to herself, with open arms.
The women of the settlement welcome Agatha into their homes, barns and into their church. They welcome her as their children run by their skirts and their farm animals move between pastures.
They feed her, comfort her. They allow her to kneel beside them as they pray. They allow her ears to be filled with stories and rumors; a short history of themselves and the settlement itself.
Agatha is able to move her way through these women and their words; hides behind them as she snakes her way through their questions about her.
All she has to do is answer plainly and keep her story straight.
When she can, Agatha meets Rio in the forest to tell her what's important. How many coins Anna has stashed away in one of her pots near the hearth and how many prized and healthy goats Rebecca has in her barn.
All of these fortunes shine in Agatha's eyes as she tells Rio how big of a payout they'll receive eventually.
Eventually.
Rio's magic is slow to start but it is there; her touches come in the dead of night while Agatha sleeps comfortably and without shame, without guilt.
Her conscience is clear as Rio moves quickly and quietly to place her hands upon what Agatha wants to become tainted.
Fields of golden barley that tickle Rio's arms as she lets her hands, outstretched to her sides, hit every stalk she can reach under the moon light.
Bags that are kept inside of barns and near stoves; tiny grains that will feed are turned as Rio sinks her hands deep into the sacks. She watches them as they overflow and tiny little grains fall to the dirt floor near her feet.
Agatha sleeps without remorse. She does not join Rio on these nightly haunts through the settlement.
-
Days and weeks pass and Agatha feels like she is losing her patience until Margaret runs into Anne's house in tears. Agatha stands there in silence as she watches the two women talk in rushed voices under their breaths.
Something is wrong with Margaret's young daughter, Mary.
Agatha has to bite back her grin at the possibility of what it could be. Something, without a doubt, she and Rio had forced from their hands and minds.
The women ask Agatha if she would like to join them back to Margaret's home to see her sick child. Agatha steals herself away and agrees as she plays the helpful and doting visitor who suddenly cares so much about these people she has no relations to. The three women move quickly to see the sickness that has overcome the young girl.
Chickens scatter and run over Agatha's black pointed boots as she crosses yet another dirt threshold. The young girl is twisted like an old, rotted tree. Anne can barely watch.
Agatha makes her way over to the sick girl on the cot. She lowers herself, bending at the waist to get a closer look. Rio's words come back to her like a wave beating over a stone wedged into the riverbank.
They had been by the fire as Agatha whispered for Rio to tell her what Saint Anthony's fire would look like.
Rio, with her head between Agatha's legs, lifted her head so that her words would not become lost against Agatha's soft and wet skin of her inner thigh.
"Convulsions...spasms of the body. Their muscles will betray them. Psychosis...their minds will turn against their wits, Agatha...less severe are your usual sicknesses...vomiting and headaches, uncontrollable bowel movements..."
Agatha grinned as her head hung backwards as if it was suddenly too heavy for her neck while her left hand snaked down her body to push Rio's head back down between her legs.
Mary turns her head and her gaze catches Agatha's, holding it for a heartbeat until her head turns to look away with her neck crooked.
Agatha smiles to herself as she reaches out to gently pat the young girl's arm before she stands back up again and turns to face her mother.
"Your girl has come under an affliction...something unholy, Margaret,"
Agatha's voice is clear and strong as she stands there straight as a rod with her shoulders back. There is no uncertainty in her tone and no glimpse of falsity on her face.
Agatha moves past the two women as she leaves the homestead and back into the warm afternoon sun.
This is merely the beginning and soon enough, more than half of these women will be in the same state as young Mary.
Agatha waits patiently to hear the first mutter, the first whispers of 'witchcraft' fall from their lips.
She keeps her gait as normal as she can despite the panic she has just stirred. She would not be surprised if tomorrow there would be a request for the settlement to attend church.
Witchcraft cannot be left to run rampant through a good and proud god-fearing settlement like the one here in Salem.
-
Those days do turn into weeks and in such, more women fall victim to this affliction. Agatha steers clear and on the side of their involvement with the devil.
She stands among the group that shout and spit and hurl accusations at these poor, sick women who can barely keep themselves from toppling over with sickness.
Agatha does her part to yell and scream and spit falsities that everyone else believes,
"I saw Margaret last night as I awoke. She was sitting there allowing an imp to suck at her! She was feeding the devil willfully!"
The out roar that followed from Agatha's words filled her with a sense of duty. She jutted her chin out and watched as two men came forward to grab Anne's arms and haul her away; her screams and cries only made Agatha restless for when the time came to ransack the woman's belongings.
However small and seemingly worthless they were.
If she could not take power away from real witches, Agatha could surely accuse plain women of witchcraft and make off with their mortal possessions.
She would do whatever she needed to make sure she and Rio were well-off and somewhat passable between both humans and witch folk alike.
-
More of these women who had allowed Agatha into their home were all struck down with Saint Anthony's fire and hauled away into the jails. A trial was to be set up for them all to see if religion could save them or if they had strayed too far away from their god.
Was the devil stronger? Were these afflictions irreversible?
Women who were once heavily regarded by their community, families and the church were suddenly stripped of any ounce of humanity with Agatha at the root of it.
No one questioned the newcomer with the purple robe and pointy black boots.
When some of those young girls followed Agatha deep into the forest at night to maybe quell their concerns about her without addressing it right to her face, they were met with a face worse than imprisonment.
After Agatha gets her fill, sadly, not enough as if this young girl was a witch but good enough to keep her satiated, Rio can start the process of guiding the girl to the afterlife. The body is left to rot a little in the woods, on top of plush, soft moss that Rio loves to run her fingers over.
Missing girls suddenly become another addition to what the devil has managed to do; stealing them away to join his cult and covens far away from the settlement.
Girls lead astray by temptation that does not sit well in the eyes of god.
-
The trials are many and so are the women accused. Agatha does her best to attend every single hearing so as to not seem suspicious. She has quickly become an outstanding member of their little society and god fearing to boot. Ask anyone unaffected and they will tell you that 'Agnes' is seen at church more often than not with her head bowed and kneeling in prayer.
She also, to her hidden delight, attends the many executions that take place in the square for all to see. Hangings and burnings; Agatha watches with a stony expression as these young and old women atone for their sins in death.
Agatha can basically feel the weight of their silver in her cupped hands and the vastness of food, tools and animals almost too much for just her and Rio alone.
The flames lick at the feet of two women before her and Agatha can only allow her mind to wander to the possibility of now, with this sudden increase of wealth, for her and Rio to start thinking about starting a family.
No doubt, their baby would be well off with the spoils of war they have worked so hard to obtain.
Agatha's hand gingerly comes up to finger her brooch at her neck as she allows the heat to hit her face and her nostrils to fill with the scent of burning cloth and skin; hair caught by the licking, growing flames. People weep and scream and shout all around her as they watch with hungry eyes to see evil burn before them.
Agatha can only see her and Rio pleasantly happy in the woods with a babe in their arms; surrounded by everything they could ever need and more.
They would be so disgustingly well off from the treasures and property of all those who have fallen before her; lay dead under her and Rio's feet.
As the witch glances up to the towering stake before her, she knows that this could very well be her own fate one day if she doesn't play her cards right.
She was a survivor; tooth and nail to claw her way out from anything, everything that was thrown at her.
She had killed her own coven, after all. She had fared well up until this point.
As the fire burns and the screams turn sobs, Agatha slips away from the crowd with her hood pulled up high around her face. No one notices her, no one stops the true witch on her way past the pastures towards the dark woods.
Agatha knows Rio will be there, right where she had left her by their fire. She knows that The green witch will be ever so tenderly burying the last young girl they had killed into a grave. So softly will her hands push and pull at the soil to cover the girl and then, with a single sprig of thyme to mark the site still fresh and dark from being filled.
Agatha pays no mind to the fresh earth as she stands before it and speaks of riches with her eyes aglow; death far away in her mind.
Dead Dove: Injustice January Day 2: Wilful Wrecking of a Train Resulting in Death
Summary: Vidal hatches a plan to rob a train of all its loot with the help of Agnes and Alice, these three women give themselves a ticket to freedom.
Word count: 3.4k
Pairings: Cowboy!Agnes O'Connor x Cowboy! Rio Vidal x Cowboy!Alice Wu Gulliver
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Swearing, pet names, smoking, kissing/rough kissing, breast/nipple play, cunnilingus, face sitting, cuckolding, groping/grabbing, rough sex, vaginal fingering, face slapping, threesome, praise kink, physical/mental/emotional manipulation, explosions, death/injury, robbery
Music inspo: We Ride at Dusk playlist
Tip Jar💰
@deaddovesserver
*Don't like the warnings? Don't read! 😊
Vidal, ever so gently plucks the cigar from Agnes' lips to steal a deep and hungry kiss from her partner.
The fire before them crackles loudly as a log splits in two; embers and smoke rising as Vidal deepens their kiss even further. The cigar has been thrown onto the ground, covered in dirt and stepped on quickly by Agnes' boot.
"That's the last thing we fucking need," Agnes groans into Vidal's mouth as her hands work their way up underneath Vidal's sweat-soaked shirt, "is a fucking brush fire to give us away."
Vidal shifts herself so that she can properly sit down onto Agnes' lap; her arms wrapping around her partner's neck. It would be a death sentence to let their guard down so late and dark into the night but Agnes and Vidal knew how to survive.
High up in the canyons where even the coyotes don't dare to climb to; they are fully alone in the wilderness with nothing but their fire and the stars burning above their heads.
Vidal hisses as she feels Agnes' blunt nails claw at her skin; palm and pads of fingers kneading at knots Vidal didn't even know lived under her shoulder blades. She sat down a little more onto Agnes' leg; allowed her heels to dig into the dirt below to fully ride.
Agnes laughed into Vidal's mouth as she tried to catch her breath,
"Are you sure about this? You really want to go through with this?"
Vidal knew that Agnes wasn't unsure about their plan and this was more of a way to bring it all back up again.
Truthfully, Agnes got off on hearing about schemes and the vivid way that innocents and the not-so-innocents would be injured and very well, may die.
"Listen up, cowboy...you've gotten off on this so many goddamn times, do I really have to tell you again?"
Vidal had pulled her head away so that she could look directly into those impossible blue eyes. If she ever had the chance in her life to see the ocean, she wouldn't take it up.
Agnes' eyes were the colour she dreamed that big body of water would look like. Why go to the ends of the earth just to see it when she could wake up and roll over and stare into it for hours without moving a muscle?
Agnes' hands move as if to their own volition as she peels up and away Vidal's weather-worn shirt. The cool desert air hits Vidal's naked skin but only for a split second. Agnes bows her head and her cowboy hat tips back until it falls off her head, joining her stomped-out cigar by her boots. She groans as her mouth finds what it's been searching for and within seconds of impact, Vidal's right nipple hardens against Agnes' tongue.
"You'd fucking suck me dry if you could!"
Vidal's voice fills the night air like a clap of thunder as she rolls her hips forwards to egg Agnes on. She can feel the heat of their fire licking her bare-back and the sweat from the long day is not from the heat of the flames.
This is how Vidal feels at all times around Agnes; a burning flame of desire that only grows the more it's fed.
The cowboy moans with Vidal's tit in her mouth as her hands continue to move against her partner's bare skin. She traces every scar, every imperfection but she knows them and their place and how Vidal got them all by heart now.
Her lover is like a map to the stars that Agnes can picture when the sun is out.
"We have to meet Gulliver in the morning, after we get down from this canyon ledge...she has what we need to make this all go boom..."
That single word causes a stir so deep within Agnes that she pulls her mouth away; her teeth dragging against the tender bud of Vidal's nipple. Her partner hisses once more through her teeth and Agnes wants to tell her how she could easily imitate a rattlesnake if they needed to.
"You know I still owe her, right? You know she's gonna make you watch us, Vidal..."
Agnes' breath is hot and damp; heavy as she tries to suck in dry, dusty air. Vidal sits up a little straighter on her partner's lap with her chin pointed and her eyes downcast onto her partner. She can see the uneven white line that runs through Agnes' hair.
Snake in the grass.
"If she delivers, I don't care what you have to do to settle your score with her. I'll sit and watch and wait but we are not letting this plan dissolve. Do you understand me, O'Connor?"
The cowboy lifted her head so that Vidal could look into those eyes again. A storm was raging on the sea and Vidal knew no matter what path they would take, their fortunes would be sought and won.
"Let me taste you know and have you on my tongue before that becomes a distant memory...you know how Gulliver gets when we don't see her in a long time..."
Vidal snorts through her nose as she pulls away and off of Agnes' lap. Her hands come down to grab the heavy cotton of her skirts to lift them.
Agnes watches intently and with slow, controlled movements she slinks backwards until she's looking up at the night sky overhead and darkness pools all around her.
The cowboy's arms come up to hold Vidal's waist as she takes her second seat of the night despite knowing how much Agnes hates the way the rough cotton feels against her ears, the side of her face.
-
"O'Connor! You're still alive?!"
Agnes tips her hat as she feels the sway of her horse underneath her. Gulliver has her hat tipped low over her brow to fend off the burning desert sun that beats down on the three of them. Vidal leads on top of her own horse; prized for its pure white coat. Muerte. Vidal's horse is whispered about from cowboy to cowboy and no one knows exactly where Vidal had found this stunning animal.
Alice waves the two women over as she pushes herself away from the support beam she had been leaning against. She comes around to help Vidal and Agnes tie up their horses to the post and waits for them to dismount.
Agnes shoots her hand straight out to shake Alice's which is taken with a heavy grasp. The two women stare one another down; the brim of their hats allowing for this intimate moment.
"I'm only still alive because Vidal found some use for both my hands and my mouth."
Vidal clicks her tongue as she watches the two women size one another up. The tension between them is hotter and brighter than the afternoon sun.
"You two better get on with it then if we want to set this all up before dusk. Agnes, don't let me down."
It's cold and quick; Vidal's tongue is like a goddamn viper as she passes by Agnes. Her glare is cold and sincere as she slips away into Alice's cabin. Alice can only offer a knowing smirk as she turns on her heel to follow Vidal into her home and Agnes has no choice but to follow behind.
With her confidence soaring, Vidal makes herself at home on one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Alice and Agnes watch as she drags it over and places it at the foot of Alice's bed. She takes her rightful seat and adjusts her skirts; throws her left leg over her right and waits.
She's going to get what they came for no matter the fucking cost of it.
"Guess your girlfriend here isn't one for foreplay, huh?"
Alice chokes back a laugh as she looks from Agnes to Vidal and then back at Agnes.
The cowboy, dressed in her dusty blue plaid shirt, can barely look at either of the two women in the room. Her fingers flex and then pull back into tight fists.
Calculating, planning. Her weight shifts from boot to boot.
"Oh come on, O'Connor...I know you ain't shy. You've fucked me a dozen times by now. Vidal has you on a tight fucking leash."
Agnes lets her tongue run over her teeth as if trying to call back from last night. She knows how Vidal tastes; can describe it in tandem if she had to.
But here she stood, in this tiny, wooden cabin between two women she had both had a go with too many times to count.
Vidal, pushing her towards the future.
Alice, pulling her back to the past.
"Come on, Cowboy...don't be nervous. I won't bite you too hard unless you like that now..."
Alice circles around Agnes like a vulture about to pick apart her meal. Agnes watches in silence as Alice smiles at her and reaches out to grab her collar; fingering the points of it as it falls into a triangle. Agnes hears her boots scuff against the wooden floor beneath her as Alice pulls her towards the bed. Their faces are so close that Agnes can feel Alice's breath on her lips.
The hesitation within Agnes is so slight that she doesn't catch herself pausing. She sighs softly as she reaches up for her hat to take it off and throw it down by her feet. Her and Alice fall into a somewhat dance that looks like a tussle; rough and needy and full of clenched fists as they paw and grab at one another.
This is how they had always been; muscle and weight thrown around to see who would come out on top.
Agnes feels the all-familiar tug at the back of her head as Alice wraps her fingers around her exes ponytail. She laughs and Agnes knows that Vidal is smirking at the sight before her; the push towards the bed where Agnes falls down both face and belly first.
"That's it, O'Connor...you take it like a good girl, just like how you used to when it was just the two of us..."
Alice's voice is so sweet Agnes wants to cry. She huffs and claws and grunts like a captured animal as Alice grabs hold of everything she can with her free hand. Weathered jeans are pulled down and Agnes' plaid is pushed up her back until it bunches uncomfortably at her shoulder blades.
Alice takes a second to revel in the skin she was once so familiar with; scent and taste and feel she used to call home.
The breath that Agnes sucks through her gritted teeth is loud and from it, Alice jumps ever so slightly as her fingers trace along Agnes' back. She leaves feather light touches all the way down Agnes' spin until she rounds her ass cheeks and squeezes them with both hands.
Agnes feels herself push deeper into the bed; shove forward as she adjusts herself to Alice's grasp.
"Lift her up, Alice...get her on the edge of the bed if you have to..."
Agnes turns her head in Vidal's direction as she hears her words fall from her mouth. She can barely make out her partner as she sits there high and mighty in her hand-made chair. The floor creaks underneath her as she adjusts to get a better view of her partner about to be fucked by her ex.
Before Alice can fulfill Vidal's request, Agnes moves her body herself.
She knows the stakes all too well and both she and Vidal desperately need what they've come here for; the deal they've made with Alice.
If anyone in this godforsaken place could get them the amount of dynamite they needed to blow the train right off the fucking tracks it was Alice Wu Gulliver.
And Alice Wu Gulliver, dealt in the only dealings she knew. An eye for an eye.
In some ways, Agnes was still hers. Vidal wasn't one to question the ways of the desert nor people like them.
"That's it, Sweetheart, move for me..."
Hushed whispers fall from Alice's lips and onto the small of Agnes' back as she leaves ghostly kisses there; barely even brushing her lips against the cowboy's back. Agnes pants as her eyelids droop to a peaceful close and allows her body to fall back to Alice's control.
Idle hands are the devil's workshop.
The sudden impact of Alice's fingers deep inside Agnes' cunt catches the cowboy off guard; writhing against the bed below her as she tries to lift her head to look at Vidal.
She wants to stare her partner down as her ex, so lovingly, pumps her fingers.
"Fuck...oh fuck, Alice..."
Agnes groans as she moves her head once more, trying to look over her shoulder. Alice's shoulder and elbow are in view but anything farther down is out of sight from Agnes' own body blocking the view.
"Come on, Cowboy...just like old times, right, Sweetheart? You always did take my fingers so well when you wanted to,"
Alice coos ever so sweetly as her fingers curl upwards inside of Agnes; more pressure is applied.
How easily it was for the two of them to slip back into their old ways.
Vidal, from her wooden throne, watches intently as Agnes is manhandled by her ex. The arch of her partner's body coupled with how Alice bends and leans and spoons so close to Agnes' it reads like a poem.
They still, after all this time, compliment each other.
"Alice, you keep going until she can't walk properly...while I..."
Agnes turns her head the second Vidal doesn't finish her sentence. She watched her partner push up and out of the chair to make her way over to the other side of the bed. The side where Agnes' head lays.
Warm fingers in the same position as Alice's reach out to slip under Agnes' defined chin to raise it as much as Vidal can. Agnes sucks back a breath and keeps her eyes lowered.
"You like this, Baby...don't deny it for a second. The way you look, the way you sound...your body was made to be bartered."
Alice clicks her tongue against her teeth before chuckling under her breath and Vidal, merely nods her head in agreement to herself.
Agnes, finally lifts her eyes to Vidal,
"If you want to treat me like a common whore-"
The loud sound like an explosion rang through Agnes' ears but the sensation of the sting on her face came after the fact. Vidal held up her hand and the look in her eyes was crazed. Agnes bit her tongue.
"You are free, Agnes. Don't you understand that? You, me, Alice...we are free. This is freedom."
As if scripted by her body alone, Agnes pushes her hips back to take more of Alice's fingers deep inside of her. It's addicting the way she feels; how Alice still makes her feel in such a vulnerable position.
"That train carrying all that money is going to people who want to keep up shackled. They'll use it to snuff out our freedom, Agnes. The three of us won't exist."
Not met with a slap, but a kiss, Agnes feels her breath be taken away as the gap closes. Alice continues to fuck her so deeply, so sweetly that she coos and pleas and praises Agnes of the good job she's doing around her fingers.
The way her cunt drips down her inner thighs.
Agnes steals breaths when she can but is always cut short by Vidal's lips and tongue. The position is awkward but they make it work. They always do.
This was their freedom.
-
Alice, on top of her chestnut-coloured horse, galloped down into the valley with her pack heavy behind her. She had done this exactly two other times in exactly two different states and each time, was successful.
If anyone was good around fire and heat, it was her.
Her fingers curled around the reins and her mind drifted ever so slightly to how they felt inside of Agnes just hours ago. Her ex hadn't changed one bit. Her body was still the same; her cries just as loud.
She even begged the same as she always did with that masculine front slipping away until her voice and her cries were high-pitched and whiny. Feminine in a beautiful way that could only be when three women were involved.
Alice pulled the front of her hat down just a little bit more as the memory rolled over her.
She had a job to do.
Her points of interest on the track had already been mused about ages ago. She was always interested in where the weakest points were. Usually, parts of the track that for some reason were skipped over for maintenance. That's where Alice would be able to lay down the bundles of TNT.
Agnes and Vidal watched from a little while away. Separately of course and on the opposite side of the tracks. They couldn't be together for this heist. Alice, Vidal decided, would join Agnes on her side of the tracks.
The side that had the sun going down.
Vidal whistled high and loud and Agnes turned her head to look behind her. The train was coming up from the distance; white smoke billowing out from it like a volcano ready to blow.
Surely, other forces would cause the train to do just that in just a matter of time.
"You ready, O'Connor?!"
Vidal yelled as she grabbed her hat to take it off and wave at her partner. She screamed, a war cry before plopping her hat back down onto her head and grabbing the reins of her horse. Her heels came inwards and the spurs made contact and off she went.
The plan was now physically in motion.
"That woman is gonna get me fucking killed,"
Agnes mumbled under her breath as she stole another look at the train before turning her attention back in front of her. She on her horse began to gallop forwards, too.
The two cowboys ran tandem to one another on opposite sides of the tracks as the train chugged closer. The sound was almost too much; rattling Agnes' teeth inside of her skull. She made a quick glance to her right to see if she was parallel to the boulder where she and Vidal had decided to be their stopping point.
It would be safe enough and far away from the explosion when it happened.
Vidal, high on her horse, watched as the train continued to move forwards on the track. It seemed to be a rather peaceful, boring sight of the steam engine making its way through the valley. Nothing out of sorts to raise any eyebrows or stop the train from its journey.
It's not until both Agnes and Vidal see the chestnut-coloured horse make its way towards them where the stakes are suddenly very, very high. The three cowboys follow in the opposite direction of the train; far enough to be in a safe distance from the upcoming explosion.
Agnes rides beside Alice, Vidal on the other side of the tracks. Their horses know what's coming before they do as they snort and suddenly become stubborn in their gallop. The three cowboys turn ever so slightly around to watch their plan unfold.
The three women had never seen something so grandiose happen before them. Smoke and fire; chunks of metal falling from the sky. The undeniable screaming and crying of passengers and crew as the train quite literally lifted and flew off of the tracks.
The horses whinnied as they stood their ground and allowed their riders to watch the destruction they had caused. The train derailment and explosion was a success but not without the use of Vidal's smarts, Alice's explosives and Agnes' body.
Once the flames died down and the black smoke rose to the air, it would be time to ransack what remained of the train to collect their payout.
Vidal rode forwards with her horse towards the twisted, burning hunks of black metal.
Alice rode backwards with her horse towards her cabin. Her work and expertise was done here and had gone off without a hitch. She would collect her payout later on.
Agnes, with her hat pushed back on her head so she could have an unobstructed view of the wreck, remained right where she sat on her horse. Forwards and backwards felt all the same to her; both controlled by women who promised her freedom.
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