𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐧 : reacting to you having cryptic pregnancy.
a cryptic pregnancy also known as stealth or hidden pregnancy, occurs when a woman is unaware that she is pregnant, until late in the pregnancy, sometimes even until labor begins. This can happen for various reasons, including a lack of typical pregnancy symptoms, misinterpretation of symptoms, or denial of pregnancy.
★｡+ﾟ☆ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ☆ﾟ+｡★
You’re both just finished a mission and was on the way to the hunter's association, when you double over in pain. You think it’s food poisoning. He calmly carries you before teleporting immediately to the medical wings inside the hunter's association.
Reaction:
At first? Deadpan calm.
“...You’re giving birth. That’s what this is.” He says it like he’s reading it from a technical manual, but his grip on your hand tightens.
Internally, he’s going through every medical protocol stored in his deepspace hunter database. He’s weirdly efficient, guiding the doctors, not letting go of you even once, but he keeps asking:
“Do you want water? Are you afraid? Should I hold your hand?”
Even after the baby arrives, he’ll just stare at it with blank confusion, then gently say:
“It’s... small. Like you.”
Then promptly falls asleep holding your hand, because the shock finally hits him post-event.
★｡+ﾟ☆ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ☆ﾟ+｡★
Irony of ironies—you’re in his hospital, and he’s on a break when it happens. You clutch your stomach, and he immediately runs to you. Zayne kneels beside you, immediately goes full doctor-mode—except he’s not calm.
“Where does it hurt? How long has it been—shit, your pulse is spiking.”
He gets you to the ER fast, barking instructions at the med team even though he knows he shouldn’t be interfering. When they tell him you’re in labor?
“That’s not—there’s no way. That’s not possible. We would've seen it. I would've known.”
He’s shaken. All logic, all science he believes in—thrown out the window. But the second he sees the baby placed in your arms, the tears he didn’t realize were there finally spill.
Later, when it’s quiet, he touches the baby's cheek and murmurs:
“I missed everything… but I’m not missing anything else.”
★｡+ﾟ☆ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ☆ﾟ+｡★
You’re at an art exhibit he’s hosting. You collapse in pain, and he freaks out so dramatically that half the press thinks it's performance art.
Rafayel panics. Loudly. hands fumbling, as he tried calling for ambulance.... too bad he's too panicking that he actually called the coast guard instead.
“What’s happening to her?! Do something! You’re doctors—aren’t you supposed to save lives?"
Once told you’re in labor, his first reaction?
“That’s impossible. I’d know, wouldn’t I?!” But then he’s by your side, holding your hand, tears in his eyes even before the baby arrives.
“I didn’t even get to talk to them in your belly... I feel like I missed everything.”
Once the baby cries? He cries too.
And don’t expect him to leave your hospital bed. He’ll cuddle both you and the baby like a sea otter protecting its whole world.
★｡+ﾟ☆ 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ☆ﾟ+｡★
You’re helping him review maps of the N109 zone when you double over. You think it’s something you ate. You’re trying to tough it out—until you start bleeding.
He freezes. Just for a split second.
Then he carries you bridal-style through Onychinus HQ like a war just started. If anyone even blinks wrong, he growls:
“Out of my way or die.”
At the hospital, Sylus glares at the doctors, knives in his voice:
“If anything happens to her, I’ll tear this place apart.”
Once he learns it’s a birth? He does not compute.
“...We didn’t even know. Kitten, How the hell did this happen?”
But he doesn’t leave your side. When the baby comes, he just stands over it silently... before muttering:
“You’ll take after her. Not me.”
And then wraps you and the baby in his jacket like it’s armor.
★｡+ﾟ☆ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ☆ﾟ+｡★
You’re watching a Farspace Fleet training session when you suddenly cry out in pain. Caleb catches you before you hit the ground.
Instant military mode. Barks orders. Clears the area. Escorts you to medical like he’s carrying precious cargo.
“She’s in pain. Do your jobs.”
When told you're in labor? his eyes widen. For once, Caleb is silent.
Once he’s alone with you though? His voice softens.
“Pipsqueak.. You’re really about to give birth, huh? I didn’t see it coming… but I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
He holds your hand through every contraction, whispering encouragement, wiping your tears.
And when the baby’s born? He crumbles.
“They’re perfect. You’re perfect. You did this all by yourself… I’m sorry I wasn’t there before, but I will be now. For everything.”
[it's my first time writing a reaction/imagine thingy. Should i do a part 2, when the baby comes out looking exactly like them?]
Characters: Petra Ral, Levi, Hanji Zoe x Levi Genre: Action / Mystery / Romance Rating: T
Detective!au
Summary: when Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.
But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed. And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.
Chapter 11/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Сhapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Сhapter 7
Сhapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
With every word from Levi's mouth, Erwin's face grew darker and darker.
"Fuck." He declared, as soon as Levi had finished. "Fuck," he repeated, rubbing his temples. He took a deep, heavy sigh, and when he blinked, the tense expression was miraculously gone, the usual look, full of determination and conviction, taking its place.
"So no sign of forced entry?” he asked, calm and collected and completely devoid of the previous frustration. “No sign of struggle? And no sign of Petra?"
"Yes, sir." Oluo confirmed with a frantic nod, which reminded Levi of a stupid toy dog Hange once put in his car.
Had the matter at hand been at least a little less grave, perhaps, he’d even crake a smile at the comparison. Hange definitely would have. Alas…
“And do we know who’s behind it?”
“No,” Levi replied. “Hange suspects one of Zeke’s man, but she also thinks some third party is involved.”
Erwin accepted his answer, slowly scratching his chin. “And where is Hange herself?"
“She went to talk to Zeke to ask if he knows something, and…" Levi faltered, not sure if he should share this information with Erwin. Hange was sure that Zeke was innocent, and Levi never doubted her, but…
"And?" Erwin prompted.
Fuck it, Levi decided. Perhaps, Erwin’s unbiased opinion was exactly what they needed.
"Oluo found Zeke's cigarette pack inside the apartment," he said, throwing it on Erwin's desk.
"It's not his," there wasn’t even a hint of doubt in his voice. Erwin didn’t even glance twice at the evidence presented to him. "Zeke would never be so careless. Someone's trying to sabotage him, and they are not very good at it."
“So you think it’s someone else?”
“Naturally.”
Erwin’s confidence eased a portion of his worries. If he and Hange were of the same mind, then it must be the truth. At least, he didn’t let Hange meet up with a potential culprit all by herself. Not that it gradually quelled his concern, but it was something…
“Zeke Yeager…” Oluo mumbled, biting his thumb. “Yeager, Yeager… I heard this name somewhere…”
“Huh?” Levi raised an eyebrow, looking quizzically at him.
“Yeager!” he exclaimed, his eyes lightening up. “Of course! Yes, now it came back to me!”
“What came back?” Levi demanded, glaring at Oluo in annoyance. God, how he hated being kept in the dark…
Oluo didn’t respond, irritating Levi even more. Instead he reached Erwin’s desk in two short strides, pushing him aside. “May I, sir?”
“Be my guest,” Erwin made a welcoming gesture, pulling his chair back. “If you know something, then…”
“Could be just a coincidence,”Oluo muttered, as he opened the database on Erwin’s computer. “But…”
For a long moment nothing happened. The office was silent, except for the sounds of typing on a keyboard, and Oluo’s quiet murmurs.
Levi shared a look with Erwin. He shrugged helplessly, seeming just as bewildered by Oluo’s actions, as Levi himself felt.
“Aha!” he beamed, finally showing Erwin what he found. “Like I said, could be just a coincidence, but I came across name Yeager before. Here.”
“A family murdered in their own house,” Erwin began reading, his eyes quickly scanning the page. “Wife and husband found dead in their own bedroom by their fourteen year old son, who came back from a sleepover. The identity of a murderer remains unknown.”
“It was the first case I took as I started working,” Oluo confessed, scratching his neck. “That’s why it stuck with me. Don’t know if it has any connections to your Zeke…”
“The father of the family, Grisha Yeager,” Levi read the name from behind Erwin’s shoulder. “Zeke is his son. From the first marriage, but still… Maybe, he was murdered, because someone wanted to get back at Zeke.”
“And now that same someone wants to finish the job,” Erwin agreed. “The culprit was never found after all. It’s a solid theory.”
“Or as solid as we can get for now,” Levi nodded.
"It's different from other cases, though,” Erwin contemplated thoughtfully, his gaze turning distant, as he taped his finger against the desk.
"Other cases?" Oluo shuddered. "Are you talking about recent... Murder cases?" he paled, his lower lip trembled, and Levi started to regret bringing him here. They needed to keep their heads clear. Petra needed them to keep their heads clear. There was no time for worrying and panicking right now.
In Levi’s experience, that attitude could only lead to more tragedy.
"It's obviously different with Petra," Erwin said, his voice going an octave softer. Levi stared at him, almost gawking. Erwin wasn't the man to give empty promises. Either he was that optimistic about this whole ordeal, or... Levi preferred not to think about the other possibility.
"Levi?" Erwin turned to him. "What do you think?"
"I think Oluo is right, Petra was taken by someone close to Zeke. But either it was the same perpetrator from before or someone else, it remains to be unknown," he replied. "And I think we don't have any time to waste."
"Agreed," Erwin clenched his jaw, his brows furrowed. "I'll talk with Pixis and Nile, ask if they know anything or if they have any people they can spare... We need to start the search..."
"Sannes!" Oluo suddenly exclaimed, startling Erwin and Levi. "Sannes, we should check him first! We’ve planted a bug on him just yesterday!"
"Fuck," Levi groaned in frustration, feeling like the biggest and the most useless idiot in the world. He had completely forgotten about it.
"I didn't see him at work today," Erwin noted. "Perhaps, it's worth checking it out. Take care of it, Levi."
"Will do," he nodded. "Permission to go?"
"Report to me once you find anything," Erwin stood up. "I'll go to Pixis and Nile."
Levi nodded again, and left the office, his steps swift and heavy.
***
"Could it be our lead?" Oluo asked.
They've listened through every conversation that Sannes had that day and the day before. And only one of them, the one where he had agreed to a meeting with an unknown man, had raised Levi's suspicion.
"Not sure if we can call it a lead," he mumbled, biting his lip. There was no word about Petra and no mention of the actual location, but it was something they could work with. It was a starting point, at the very least. Much better than nothing. "But it's definitely a clue. Come on, we need to continue our investigation."
"Meaning..."
"Meaning we're going to break into Sannes' office and see if we can find something inside. Don't worry," he clasped Oluo's shoulder with just a little too much force. Oluo coughed, almost doubling over under Levi’s hard hand. "Nothing you hadn't done before."
***
“Zeke is a fool,” the man sneered, his voice full of disgust. “He’s not the man he was before. Ever since he took in that Zoe, he made mistake after mistake. It’s time to put an end to this. It’s time for someone else to take over his legacy. Our gang needs a new leader. Someone, who has as much potential as Zeke, but who doesn’t yet possess any of his flaws. Someone, who is cunning and ruthless. There is only one man who can do this," he finished, and even from afar Petra could see a shine of adoration in his eyes.
Sannes scoffed, rolling his eyes, not moved by the passionate speech at all. "And who is that?"
"No one can achieve the greatness Zeke once possessed. Except," the man smiled, and the sight of it made shivers run down Petra's spine.
"His own brother."
"You've gone mad," Sannes rolled his eyes, still unconvinced. "You've lost it completely, and now you want to drag me down with you. I refuse. Good luck getting arrested, but I’m out of here.”
“You’ll regret this, Sannes,” the man promised, his eyes flashing. “You’ll come begging for us to take you back in no time.”
“I really doubt that, boy,” Sannes sneered, his face showing nothing but disgust. “And if you’re going to actually proceed with your plan, then be ready to meet Ackerman. Believe me, it won’t be a pleasing experience. See you in prison,” he finished, and left, throwing the door shut.
As soon as Sannes had stormed out, the man with an eerie smile turned around to face her.
Instantly, Petra closed her eyes and lowered her head, but the man simply laughed.
"There is no need to pretend," he spoke, shortening the distance between them. "I know you've been awake for quite some time, detective Ral."
She looked up then, saying nothing and glaring at him beneath her bangs. Just the sight of that man left her breathless, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it in her ears, but she wouldn’t show him her fear. She was better than this. He may have had an ultimate upper hand over her, but she would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble.
"I think we've started off on a wrong foot," the man smiled, the shadow of a lightbulb above him making him look even creepier. "I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Floch, nice to meet you!"
With the same crazy smile on his lips, he reached out and patted her shoulder. Petra winced, unable to move away from the undesired touch.
"What do you want from me?" she hissed, trying to hide the shaking in her voice. As discreetly as possible, she tried to loosen her restraints. In movies she watched with Erd, Gunter and Oluo, heroes always freed themselves so easily, the ropes being nothing more than a nuisance. But in reality, they didn't bulge an inch. Petra searched through her mind, trying to remember what characters from those movies did. Wiggle out of the restrains? Broke their wrists? Or was it applicable only for the handcuffs? Shit. She should have watched more movies like this, instead of melodramas and rom-coms. Shifting her attention back to the present, she stared up at her captor, still glaring at him defiantly.
"What do I want from you? The same thing I wanted from the others."
The same thing he wanted from the others? But the others were... dead. Petra suppressed a shiver.
"It's nothing personal, really,” he continued in the same careless manner. “All I need from you is to motivate your partner."
"Levi?" Petra gasped. "What it has to do with him?"
To her surprise, the man shrugged. "Nothing, really. In a way," he swept his hand across the room. "He's just a victim of circumstances. He's one of the best detectives in this city and he has a personal connection with Zeke. It'd be a shame not to use him."
"But why do you need him?" she pulled on the ropes, leaning closer towards the man and looking deep inside his eyes, trying to see right through him, trying to understand him. "Why can't you just kill Zeke and be done with it?"
The man tutted, shaking his head. "That's not what I—" there it was, that same pleased, creepy smile. "What we want to do. Taking Zeke's life would be too easy. We want to destroy it. But unfortunately," he continued in a voice of badly feigned sympathy. "You're not the main event here."
"Not the main event?" Petra echoed, confused. If it wasn't her, then....
"Not sure if you've met...” his eyes lightened up with something dark and dangerous. The smile on his face grew wider, more sinister. “But surely you've heard of one Hange Zoe?"
"Hah," a short chuckle escaped her lips. Very soon it turned into a full blown laughter. Petra would have clenched her sides if she wasn't tied up, she would have doubled over, hands on her knees and chest heaving, overcome with a sudden feat of giggles.
"What are you laughing at?" Floch inquired, the smile disappearing under a frown.
"You, of course," Petra answered, still breathless. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. To think that you can take on Hange Zoe..." of course, he had already gotten her, but Floch had taken her by surprise and she wasn't nearly as experienced and skilled as Hange. And even if they do somehow catch Hange... "Levi would never let you even get close to her. More than that," Petra raised her chin, a confident smirk pulling on her lips. "I'm sure he'll show up here so very soon. He'll save me and ruin your stupid plan. Then you'll be rotting in jail alongside your Zeke."
"We'll see about that," Floch promised through gritted teeth. "Wait a couple of hours, detective, and we'll see if your optimism would remain just as strong."
He gave her a furious look and then did a sharp turn, heading to the door.
“Enjoy your last hours. I’ll come to check up on you later.”
With that he had left, and Petra finally managed to breathe normally.
***
"Weren't you supposed to be good at this?" Levi dryly inquired. With a bored expression on his face, he was leaning against the wall, watching Oluo fiddle with a lock on the door to Sannes' office.
"I never said I was," Oluo grunted, wiping sweat from his forehead. His head darted from one side to other, checking if the hallway remained empty. "It's my first time breaking into someone's office, you know."
"Eh?" Levi frowned, confused. "Then how did you and Petra get in the other day?"
"I stole a key," Oluo huffed.
Levi rolled his eyes, pushing Oluo aside. "Let me handle it then. You go and stand on a lookout."
Oluo didn't need to be asked twice. He got his fair share of bullying from Levi today. With an annoyed but very quiet - he wasn’t so thrilled about receiving even more insults - sigh, he rose to his feet, going to do what Levi had requested of him. He didn’t even reach the end of a hallway, and Levi was calling out to him.
"Already?" his eyebrows went up. "You broke the lock so quickly? How?"
"Well," Levi shrugged and pushed the door open, sporting an almost smug expression. "Let's just say I wasn't always a law-abiding policeman."
"So cool..." Oluo whispered in reverence, as he followed Levi inside the office.
In Oluo's humble opinion and in comparison to a small cubicle he shared with Erd, Sannes' office was huge. A large desk, a wide bookshelf that took up most of the wall, a leather couch and a mini-fridge with a coffee machine and a microwave oven? If affiliating yourself with criminals meant you can have a workplace like this... Oluo wasn't that opposed to the idea anymore.
But they took Petra, he reminded himself. They were the bad guys, even if they were much richer and more successful than he could ever be. They certainly didn’t deserve any of it. And his job was to catch them.
"So what should be our starting point?" he asked Levi.
"You could start with telling me what the fuck you are doing inside my damn office."
With heart in his throat, Oluo whirled around. As his eyes met Sannes' dark and furious ones, Oluo gulped, slowly taking a step back.
He chanced a glance at Levi and was surprised to see that he didn't look as scared and panicked as Oluo himself felt.
Quite the contrary.
"Sannes." he snarled.
With wide eyes and mouth open in shock, Oluo watched how Levi manhandled Sannes, a man, who was almost twice his size. He pushed him to the wall, fisting hands into his shirt.
"Where is Petra, you scumbag?" he hissed into his face. "Where are you holding her?"
“Let go of me, you freak!” Sannes shouted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Oh, but you do,” Levi’s voice dropped even lower, almost resembling a growl. “You know about everything – Zeke’s dealings, Petra’s kidnapping, Hange’s survival,” he pulled Sannes even closer. “So I repeat my question – where are you holding her?”
"I don't know!" Sannes wheezed out, already out of breath.
"Bullshit," Levi answered, his voice so dark and dangerous it made shivers run down Oluo's back. And he wasn’t the one Levi was talking to. He really didn’t envy Sannes right now. "You know it, and if you're not a complete idiot, you're going to tell me everything right fucking now."
Sannes looked down at him, his gaze calculating. "If I tell you, do you promise not to reveal my connection with Zeke?"
"No,” Levi answered coolly, shaking Sannes once more. “But you're going to tell me anyway."
Sannes closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. "Fine,” he said. “I'll tell you everything. Just let me go."
"Smart choice," Levi murmured and instantly took a step back.
Sannes sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. "He's keeping her at the docks,” he mumbled, his face aimed at the ground. “I'll send you the exact location."
"Good," Levi nodded, much calmer now. "And after you do that, go straight to Erwin. If I were you, I wouldn't make him wait. Perhaps, he'd be more merciful then. Although,” he added, sending Sannes one last glare. “I doubt he actually would."
Levi turned on his heels then, walking out of the office. Oluo stayed behind for a second longer, a pressing need to ask Sannes a question arising in him.
"Petra?" his voice broke on her name, but Oluo willed himself to stand strong, looking up at Sannes without an ounce of fear. "Is she alright?"
"Dragged and unconscious," Sannes replied, rubbing the spot where Levi had grabbed him. "But she's unharmed. For now."
For now. Those two words made his knees buckle. They needed to hurry. Petra's life was on the line.
***
With sweat dripping down her face and completely out of breath, Hange finally reached Zeke's hideout.
Panting like a chain-smoker and with her leg muscles burning, she climbed all four sets of stairs, cursing Zeke all the while. Why couldn't he put his office on the first floor? Or next to a police precinct? Would have made her life so much easier.
As expected, Zeke was inside his meeting room, smoking. The fat rings of smoke were flowing around the room, flying just below the ceiling before dissipating into nothingness. Hange narrowed her eyes, squinting at the cigarette in his fingers. Could the cigarette from Petra’s apartment really belong to him? Perhaps, they should have run some tests on it… No, Hange shook her head. Zeke was innocent - at least, in that regard.
She looked around the room, nodding at Pieck and Porco, who, as usual, were sitting next to their boss.
"Ah, my dear Hange!" sweeping the ash from his cigarette, Zeke raised his hands, opening them in a welcoming gesture. "What brings you here? Already missed us?" he winked and Hange scoffed.
"Missed your ugly face?” she rolled her eyes. “Not in a million years."
Zeke shook his head, his gaze filling with disappointment. "Detective Ackerman has a terrible influence on your sense of humor," he complained, his expression turning sourer.
"Whatever," Hange fell down on a chair next to him. "I came to ask you for help. Petra is missing."
"Petra?" Zeke frowned, looking genuinely confused. The lost look inside his eyes cemented Hange's conclusion that he wasn't the one involved in her kidnapping. Zeke was sleazy and unreliable, but he was also a very bad liar. Well, that meant they managed to rule out one possible suspect…
"Yes, Petra. Levi's partner."
"Ah, he found a new one already?" Zeke spread his lips into a wide, self-contained smirk. "Not very loyal, is he?"
More loyal than you will ever be, Hange wanted to say, but stopped herself. Now was not the time to start a pointless squabble.
"Do you know something or not?" she demanded from him.
"I don't," Zeke answered, putting a cigarette to his lips and exhaling the smoke right in Hange's face. He knew how much she hated it, asshole. She waved the smoke away, scowling fiercely. "But I do know one thing," he turned to Porco. "The time has come, start packing."
Without asking for clarification, Porco nodded, thrusted hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and hurriedly left.
Hange watched him go, stunned. Was Zeke planning something? What could it be? Why didn’t she know about it?
There was only one way to find out. She surveyed Zeke’s face carefully, trying to see his motives reflected there.
"Packing? To where? What the hell are you talking about, Zeke?"
"Don't worry about our destination," he patted her hand, looking so condensing Hange had to clench her fists to stop herself from punching the bastard. "You're going with us after all."
"Like hell I will!" Hange threw his hands off, glaring at Zeke. "And you can’t seriously expect me to follow you. What does all of it mean?"
Zeke shrugged, lightening up another cigarette and taking a long drag. "It's the grand finale, Zoe. The dramatic climax, the thrilling last act. And I was never the one for theatrics. So I'll leave the stage and go on my way."
"You promised to help," Hange grunted. She couldn't believe it, she actually trusted the bastard, and now he tries to escape? She wouldn't let him. "Or did you lie to us?"
"I wasn't lying," Zeke scoffed. "Like I said, I don't enjoy the drama. I simply changed my mind."
"So you won't honor your promise?"
Zeke rolled his eyes. "Zoe, please. I'm a criminal. The word honor was never in my vocabulary."
"Fine," Hange huffed, blowing hair out of her face. The attempt to awaken his consciousness failed. Maybe, she could appeal to his ego instead… "But someone is targeting you. Don't you want to know who it is?"
"Not particularly,” Zeke shook his head. “Since they went through all that trouble just to get me, I'd rather we never meet. Lord knows what they're going to do then, and, unlike you, detective, I know what self-preservation means."
"So that's it? You're just going to leave?"
Hange couldn’t believe it. She knew Zeke was a scumbag, but goddamn it. She didn’t expect him to be that untrustworthy.
"Of course, I’m not going to just leave," Zeke smiled. "I'll take you with me. To make sure that no one is going to follow us."
Hange snorted. "You're that delusional? I told you already, I'd rather die than go anywhere with you."
"Be it as you wish," he said. "Pieck," he lazily outstretched his hand to her. "Make our dear detective cooperate. Do with her what you want, but make sure she won’t get in our way."
Hange turned to Pieck, her heart skipping a beat. She held her breath and tensed her muscles, anticipating her first move. She could take Pieck in a fight, in theory. But in reality, she came unarmed, and Pieck always carried a gun. And a couple of knifes.
And Hange wasn't sure that her wits were much sharper.
There was a bit, the air in the room growing stiff. Hange swallowed, her one eye narrowed, as she watched Pieck. Maybe, if she makes the first move—
"No." Pieck said suddenly.
For a moment, there was silence. Hange sat there, dumbfounded, staring at Pieck and feeling utterly lost. She didn’t mishear? Did Pieck really—
Next to her, Zeke seemed to have the exact same trouble. He blinked a few times and then his expression changed, turning into a look of betrayal and fury.
"What did you just say?" he snarled, baring teeth at her.
"No," Pieck repeated, staring straight at him, not swayed by his outburst. "I won't touch Hange, and you, Zeke, will go with her and surrender to the police."
"What do you think—"
"Stop it, Zeke," Pieck sighed tiredly. "Own up to your shit and stop running away. Do you really not get it? If you do this right now, whether you'll kill Hange or take her with you, this—" she gestured around, her gaze on Zeke hard and disappointed. "This running and hiding will never end. If you touch a hair on her head, detective Ackerman will get you even from underneath the Earth. Accept it, Zeke," she stood up and squeezed his shoulder. "You've lost that battle the moment you started it. You simply picked up the wrong opponents."
With slow, elegant steps Pieck approached Hange and bent down to leave a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Goodbye, Hange," she murmured, tucking a hair behind her ear. "It's been fun."
In spite of herself, Hange smiled. Sarcastic, adorable Pieck always had such an effect on her. "Are you leaving already?" she asked, touching a place where Pieck's lips met her skin.
"Well," Pieck grinned. "Pock had started packing, right?"
"And where are you going?" Zeke wondered, his lips pressed in a line and hands crossed at his chest. He stubbornly refused to even glance at Pieck.
"A secret," she chirped, smiling cheerfully. "But I'll make sure to send a postcard. Hange, I'll send yours to detective Ackerman's address?” she winked, chuckling at the sight of red color on Hange’s cheek. “And, Zeke? You'll be staying at the state prison, right?"
"Oh fuck off, Pieck," he groaned. "Go away already."
Their eyes met for a second, and Zeke's gaze softened ever so slightly. "Try not to get caught, will you?"
"Roger that, chief!" Pieck saluted, kissed Zeke too and then headed to the entrance, gliding on the floor and humming under her breath.
"You two should talk," she advised Hange and Zeke, and then quietly closed the door.
As soon as Pieck was gone, Zeke dropped his head on his hands, sighing in frustration.
"How the fuck do you do it, Zoe?" he sent her a side-glance. "How the fuck do you manage to inspire that kind of loyalty in people?"
Hange shrugged, sitting back in a chair, and curled her lips in a crooked grin. "Try not being a complete jerk, perhaps?"
"Fuck off," he retorted, hiding his face again. "You'll send me to jail, right?"
"R-right," Hange sang. "And before that, you'll help us looking for Petra."
"And if I refuse?"
"Initially, I planned to be the one organizing your arrest. But I can give that honor to Levi..."
Zeke visibly shuddered.
"Fine," he looked up, fixing the glasses on his face and brushing the hair back from his forehead. "I'll help you. Now get the hell out of here."
Hange arched an eyebrow. "You're coming with me, you know that?"
"I'll come," he huffed. "I promise. For real this time," he added, when Hange just kept giving him an unimpressed look. "Just give me half an hour to get all of my possessions in order, would you? I don't know if I'll be coming back after all."
"Half an hour." Hange nodded, looking at him strictly. "If you don't show up in half an hour, I'm sending Levi to get you."
She would have stayed behind and monitored him, but time was of the essence. She promised Levi she'd back in two hours. And the watch was telling her it was almost an hour past that. She needed to get back, and quickly. Hurrying out of the building, Hange rushed to the precinct.
But in her haste to get back to Levi, she didn't see a swift shadow that followed right after her.
***
One way, then the other, back and forth, left and right, Levi paced around the room.
Seven. That was the amount of steps needed to get from one end of Erwin's office to the other.
Levi glanced out of the window, and then turned around, starting anew. He clenched and unclenched his fists, thinking if he should look at his phone again. Maybe, he missed a message? Didn't hear its ringing? Maybe, she had already replied to a dozen of his texts and calls?
"Levi," a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. "Levi, we can't wait any longer," again, Erwin's voice was so much gentler than usual, and that alone should have been enough for him to realize that he was being irrational. That, the eyes of a dozen other policemen, gathered in Erwin’s office, who looked at him with a mix of worry and sympathy.
"We have the location," Erwin reminded, bringing him back to present.
"I know."
"We have the team."
"I know."
"We have a plan."
"I know," Levi gritted through teeth. "But we do not have Hange!"
Frustrated, he turned away from Erwin. He took out his phone, holding it tightly.
Why didn't she call? Why didn't pick up the phone and answer his texts? Where the fuck was she? She promised to be back in two hours. Almost three passed and no sign of that messy, four-eyed brilliant weirdo. The knot in his stomach grew tighter with each passing second.
Logically, he knew Hange could be simply running late. She could be stuck in traffic or she could be busy trying to get some kind of useful information out of Zeke. But while Hange was never the one to care about such trite matters as punctuality and she could easily get absentminded and usually appeared to be scatterbrained and frivolous, she was so very different during the times like this. Times, when lives were on the line. Hange never let herself be so unfocused, that’s why Levi was so worried now. He was anxious, and he knew that feeling won't go away until he sets his eyes on Hange, alive, breathing and well. He just got her back, the thought of losing her… Levi cursed, checking the phone again.
"Levi..." Erwin sighed, patting his shoulder. "You know, we can't waste our time."
He knew that. Petra needed their help, needed him. He couldn't let her down, but still...
Hange, oh god, Hange. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.
"Perhaps, detective Zoe isn't going to come back," came a quiet murmur from the corner of the room.
Levi’s head whirled in that direction, and, in a flash, he was beside him. "What did you just say?" he demanded from Oluo, barely stopping himself from grabbing him just as forcefully as he had done with Sannes.
Oluo swallowed, a trail of sweat rolling down his face, but he stared back at Levi, raising his chin.
"She was working with an enemy for more than two years. Maybe, she was the one who kidnapped Petra."
Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He was not going to lose it right now. He was not. Not when Erwin - and a dozen other of his colleagues - were looking at him.
"Bozado," he began as calmly as he was able in that moment. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course, sir!" he answered without a moment of hesitation.
"Good," Levi nodded. "You trust me. And I trust Hange. With my life. And if you are at least half as smart as you're trying to appear, you'll trust her too. If you're not ready to,” his gaze grew harder, enabling Oluo from turning away. “Then get the fuck out of my team. If you doubt Hange, you doubt me, and I can’t work like that, I have to trust my people. So what do you say – are you leaving or staying?"
"I'm... I'm staying with you, sir."
"Alright," Levi watched Oluo’s face for another second, his eyes narrowed. Would he follow his orders without question? It seemed like he would. He hoped so, at least. With a low, thoughtful hum, Levi turned to Erwin. "We can start the operation. Bozado will lead my team."
He pointedly ignored the shocked gasp from Oluo. The boy wasn’t nearly as experienced, wasn’t even a detective, but their mission was to get back Petra. And Levi believed Oluo wouldn’t let himself fuck it all up.
It's obvious he has feelings for her, Hange once told him. She was right that time, but then again – when she wasn’t?
"And you, Levi?" Erwin asked.
"Half an hour," he promised. "Half an hour, and I'll be at the location."
Hange swore to come back to him. This time, Levi won't let her broke that promise.
Closing the door behind himself, he hurried to Zeke. He prayed that Hange was alright. Zeke wouldn’t get out of this alive, if she weren’t.
***
The silence pressed onto her. The silence, the waiting for god knows what - it was all making Petra go slowly insane. She wanted to hear something, any sound would do at this point.
Or so she thought.
But then Floch came back, sauntering inside and still sporting the same deranged grin, and Petra realized that she preferred silence so much more than the low, out of tune humming mixed with the sound of him polishing the various knifes taken from a long table in front of him.
She squirmed, the ropes digging into her skin even more. It would leave bruises, she thought absentmindedly.
Bruises? She chided herself almost immediately. Who would care about bruises if they find her dead? She suppressed another shiver.
They won't find her dead, Petra tried to persuade herself. They won't, because so very soon Levi would be here, and he'll save her. Perhaps, detective Hange would be with him, maybe, Oluo too...
She had friends who cared about her. They won't let her be murdered. She just had to keep believing in them.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked Floch, trying to distract herself from the thousand of horrible what ifs.
Why haven’t you— no, she wouldn’t ask him that. She would remain optimistic.
“You’ll see very soon,” he told her enigmatically. “My friend is almost here.”
His friend? Did he mean Zeke’s brother? The one, who had planned it all? And what would happen, when he comes? Would he—
No, she stopped herself once again. She needed to hold onto that hope. She needed to stay strong.
The sound of footsteps somewhere above her startled Petra. Hearing them too, Floch started chuckling. He turned to Petra, pressing a finger to his lips.
“That’s my friend,” he whispered quietly, as though it was the biggest secret in the world. “And he brought someone with him.”
The next second, the door opened and a man – so young, probably in his early twenties – stumbled in. He was hobbling slightly, his hand pressed to a place just below his hairline. His face was a mess – split lip, bruised eye that already started to turn deep purple, bloodied nose and forehead.
“You didn’t tell me she was a fucking psycho,” he grumbled, glaring daggers at Floch. “I wouldn’t have a chance, if I wasn’t armed.”
“But?” Floch passed him a white cloth to wipe off the blood. “You’ve caught her, right?” his voice was full of hope, and his fingers were trembling in anticipation.
“She’s in my car, dragged out of her mind. Help me get her here.”
“With pleasure,” Floch turned to Petra, winking. “You’ll have company so very soon, detective. I hope you’re excited! I am!”
He didn’t stop to hear her response, following after his friend and leaving her alone once again.
It was possibly her last chance, she realized. Petra desperately pulled on the ropes, trying to get away, but to no avail. She couldn’t move an inch, and it seemed like the more she struggled, the tighter her bindings became.
Not enough time passed, before Floch had returned, dragging a body inside. His friend put the chair, right next to Petra, and Floch dropped the body there.
No, not just some body, Petra realized. Fear crippled inside her, seizing her heart in its merciless hold.
Not just some body, Hange Zoe’s body.
Her head was bowed, but even from where she was sitting, in a poorly lit room, Petra could see blood dripping down her cheek and neck.
So much blood, she thought. She was breathing, albeit faintly. But she wasn’t waking up.
Her heart stopped, as Petra realized another thing – if Hange was there, no one was looking for her. And if no one was looking… then Hange and she… they would most probably… not be found.
At least, not alive, or so it seemed.
Petra tried to hold onto that sliver of hope, but with Hange Zoe’s bloodied face in her line of sight, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to.
Your mind was reeling, was this really happening? Was he really leaving you when you needed him most? You had found out you were pregnant only a couple of hours ago. You wanted to surprise Steve with a little joke you had found online. It wouldn’t even matter now, he doesn’t love you anymore.
Your hands were shaking while tears built up in your eyes, the sobs in your throat ready to flow out. You wanted to know what had happened? What changed from last week as he had told you that he would never leave you, and it would always be you two.
“What changed?” You whispered, if you tried to speak any louder, you would be crying loudly.
Steve sucked in a harsh breath, “I don’t know Y/n, I just don’t anymore,”
You nodded your head, and went into your bedroom and packed your bag. While throwing in clothes into your bag, you started to cry quietly. It hurt to leave, you had just passed your third anniversary. You had moved in with Steve a year ago, on your second anniversary. Guess it didn’t matter anymore, he didn’t love you anymore.
You swiftly got your bag ready, you walked out of your bedroom, over to the door, leaving your keys on the catch-all tray. You couldn’t bear to stay in the apartment any longer. Steve’s head shot up when he heard your keys hit the tray.
“Where are you going?” He asked without thinking, it was a habit for him to ask where you were going, constantly worrying for you and where you were going. You didn’t look over at him, he didn’t need to know anymore. You shrugged and left without a single word.
Steve sat back on the couch, head in his hands, feeling hollow and a shell of a person. The apartment had already felt colder without you in it, you were normally humming a tune softly, but it was silent, only the hum of electricity to be heard.
8 months later
Steve had landed from a mission, it was only supposed to a few week recon mission, turned into a full-blown undercover stakeout. He went back to his apartment, opening the door to a cold apartment. A shiver ran up his spine, subconsciously looking at the gleam of your keys on the tray. Steve felt his chest caved in at the reminder of what had happened before he left.
Where were you know? What were you doing? Were you doing alright? Steve went over to his desktop, searching your name up in the search engine.
There were no results about you, not even a social media link. You had loved social media, were always on it. The cute pictures of you were constantly posted between the two of you. He pulled out his phone to open his Instagram, looking up your name, to not find anything.
Did you delete your Instagram? He had looked through his own feed, the last picture of you sitting at a fancy restaurant table, smiling brightly at his phone. You looked so lovely that night, a pretty white dress and you looked like an angel. Steve was sure that he swooned every time you had smiled at him.
Steve put everything down and walked towards the bathroom which was connected to the bedroom. It hit Steve like a truck when he walked in and didn’t see your socks on the floor. You always left your socks on the floor because your feet were always cold and you wouldn’t take your socks off until you were about to go to sleep.
Tears filled his eyes as he looked around the bedroom and he couldn’t even smell your scent on the sheets anymore. A choked sob left his throat, you were really gone. You had left and didn’t come back. What else was he to expect, he told you to leave, he told you that he didn’t love you anymore.
Steve did love you, he truly did, breaking your heart like that was one of his biggest regrets, the basis of the mission was for a man who had threatened you and Steve, and he wanted to investigate. It would do more harm if you were together than if you were separated, so Steve broke up with you, what a mistake that was.
Steve walked to the bathroom, tears streaming down his face, and noticed the garbage was overflowing. He forgot to take out the trash before he left. Trying to get all the trash out, he noticed a pregnancy test, his heart dropped to his ass. No, you couldn’t have been pregnant. You would have told him.
It was positive. You were pregnant when he told you he didn’t love you. Steve needed to find you, where were you? Steve forgot about the shower, he grabbed his keys and got onto his bike, rushing to the tower to get FRIDAY to locate you and make sure you were okay.
++++
Steve stared at the computer screen in the lab. There was no trace of you at all, it was like you never existed. FRIDAY had said that there was no record of a Y/n L/n in their database, which was ridiculous because Steve had granted you security access to the building. Steve felt a cold sweat break out across the back of his neck. Tears pooled into his eyes, you couldn’t have disappeared like this without help.
Steve ran to Tony’s lab, hoping he would have an idea of where you were. Without even knocking, he barged into Tony’s lab, seeing his friend on the phone with someone.
++++
“Tony, the baby and I are fine, thank you for calling again for the third time today, but I promise if I need anything, I’ll call you,” You told Tony through the phone.
“Actually got to go, we’ll talk later,” Tony snappishly said before he disconnected the call, you rolled your eyes at his tone, smiling knowing he was annoyed that you denied his help yet again.
After you left Steve, you called Tony sobbing and he took you in. Tony was your closest friend besides Steve. He had picked you up and brought you to a small home close to Lake Erie. It wasn’t much, just a two-bedroom home 15 minutes from the lake.
You had given birth to Tobias Joseph Rogers last month, and it was like he was a photocopy of Steve. He had come out screaming and wailing at 7 lbs, 13oz and 21 inches, on July 4, 20XX. Just like his father. You cried for the majority of your pregnancy and the only reason you took care of yourself was for the safety of the baby.
Postpartum depression was also a concern for you because you were depressed during your pregnancy and you feared that you would still be depressed while raising your sweet little boy. He never cried, only fussed when he was hungry or soiled his diaper. Toby was sleeping right now, and he wouldn’t wake up for another 40 minutes so you began to clean up around the small house.
++++
“Who you on the phone with?” Steve asked, hoping he would say you. Tony looked at him shocked.
“When did you get back Cap?” Tony asked monotonously, secretly fuming inside, Steve had broken your heart and left you for dead, and here he was without a scratch on him.
“Couple of hours ago, was that Y/n? Do you know where she is?” Steve asked, a hopeful look in his eyes, Tony wanted to crush that hope out, Steve didn’t deserve you, you were too perfect for him.
“No, a business partner,” Tony knew you didn’t want to see the Captain, you specifically asked for all information about you to be erased from the system and the internet. You knew that Steve didn’t want to be in your lives anymore so it would be better to just disappear.
All hope Steve had was completely put out, you had disappeared. His heart was breaking so quickly, he was surprised that he didn’t collapse to the floor due to all the heartbreak. Tears began streaming down his face, his breath shaking at the thought of losing you, and your child.
Tony watched Steve shake and cry in the middle of his lab, awkwardly he went over and put his hand on the super-soldiers shoulder. He sympathizes with Steve, he really did, he knew what it was like to lose the woman you love.
“Please Tony, do you know where she is, I miss her so much, I had to go on a mission, they threatened her. They wanted to kill her because of me, please you gotta believe me!” Steve sobbed, wanting nothing more than to just hold you and beg for your forgiveness.
“Who threatened her?”Tony asked, his hands clenching at the thought of someone hurting you and that cute baby of yours. That little boy had stolen Tony's heart the moment he was born.
“Hydra, where the hell do you think I’ve been these past 8 months?” Steve shouted.
“Why the fucked didn’t you anything before you dumb fuck, that poor woman spent so long crying over you, thinking that you didn’t love her anymore.” Tony shoved Steve, and Steve took a step back, knowing Tony was protective of you.
“They would have killed her if anyone knew, it was for the best if we weren’t together while I looked for the person who threatened her,” Steve said exasperated, tired from fighting and not having you home to comfort him.
“Follow me, you stupid shit”
++++
You heard the jet before you saw anything, the noise had startled and he woke up whining, annoyed to be woken up from his afternoon nap. You quickly scooped the baby into your arms hoping to settle him and get him back to sleep, because if he didn’t finish his nap, he would be cranky until bedtime.
After numerous attempts of trying to put him down, he wouldn’t stop whining, only when you took him into your arms and held him.
“You such a mamas boy Toby,” You said softly to the infant, his eyes open and staring at you in wonder. You heard knocking on your door, you just knew it was Tony, he had called earlier and he always came by when he called.
“Let’s go see Uncle Tony baby,”
As you walked down the stairs, you heard two voices arguing softly behind the door, this worried you because you knew Tony always came alone, it might be the neighbors, they would stop by once in a while to check on you and see if you needed any help.
When you open the door, you felt your heart stop momentarily. There he was, in all his American glory, Captain America, Steve Rogers at your door, Tony standing next to him, a sheepish smile on his face. You glared at Tony, how could he do this to you.
Steve stared at the small bundle in your arms, that was your baby, the baby that you had grown without Steve there to help you. Steve looked up at you, you looked as beautiful as ever, skin glowing and your hair looked better than ever. It was like Steve was in a trance while staring at you.
Tony was the first one to break the awkward silence, “Sweetheart, you got to let him explain,”
“Like hell, I will, what the hell do you two want?” You said hostilely, holding Toby tighter to your body.
“Doll, let me explain, please,” Steve begged, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and hug and kiss you till dawn. To hold his baby and kiss, hold, cuddle him.
You looked reluctantly at Tony and then at Steve, you handed the baby over to Tony where he quickly gathered him and bolted to the nursery room.
“Come in,” You quietly said, leading Steve to your cozy living room. It was minimally decorated, not much inside besides a sectional and a coffee table, a small flat screen tv mounted on the wall. It wasn’t much but it was enough for you and the baby, to keep you from your thoughts when the baby was down and you didn’t want to go to sleep yet.
Steve walked in the house, it had the same aura as the apartment when you both lived there. It was small and it felt like home. Steve started tearing up, he felt out of place, exiled from your heart. But he was the one who told you that he wasn’t in yours anymore. Watching you walk through the corridor, made him feel so left out.
You both sat on the couch, you never made eye contact with Steve, you feared if you did you would end up forgiving him.
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?” You ask softly, nervous to even be talking, what if he came to take away Toby? Your hands cliché at that idea, nobody was taking your baby away from you.
Steve noticed your hands and just stared at you, “Doll, let's just talk, please,” He said desperately, he picked up on the fact that you flinched when he had called you doll, his heart cracking. All Steve wanted to do was to reach out and hold you, just have you in his lap and breathe in your scent.
“Okay, what happened? I thought you didn’t love me anymore?” You whispered, bring up those words practically tore your heart.
“Y/n, I lied okay? I loved you and I still do. So much. Hydra threatened to kill you, the both of us, that's why I told you that, I thought it would be safer for the both of us if we weren’t together, they most likely had our apartment bugged, so I had to make it believable, please you have to believe me.” Steve pleaded.
You looked at the blond in shock, they had bugged the apartment, how, when? Did they know where she was right now? You stiffened up, worried that they knew where you were and they would come hurt Toby.
“Do they know where we are?” You whispered
“No, I took them all out.”
“By yourself?”
“I did what I had to do to protect the ones I love,” Steve said while taking your hand in his.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“Doll they bugged the apartment if I told you they would have for sure killed us, I needed to make sure that we would both be safe and then take them down,” Steve explained, you seemed to be understanding the idea now. “When did you have him?” Steve asked you, dying to meet the baby.
“Last month, he was born on July 4th, like his father,” You told him, watching as his eyes filled with tears and his heart broke even more.
“are you alright?” Steve asked you, concerned that the pregnancy had caused any damage to your body. You had to go through that all alone, the hormones, the cravings, he missed watching you grow with his child.
“I’m fine, it was quick labor and delivery, only took 2 hours, eager like his father,” You said while smiling, thinking about your cute baby boy. “so what happens now?” You asked.
“Can I meet our baby?” Steve asked quietly, desperate to hold his son. You nod your head and lead him up the stairs, to the nursery where Tony and the baby were. Opening the door to see Tony laying on the floor with the baby on his chest. Toby was gurgling and making a face that you recognized, you quickly grabbed the baby and a towel, throwing it over your shoulder and burping him.
“Did he throw up on me?” Tony asked Steve, Steve couldn’t even pay attention to anything that Tony had said, too entranced by his son trying to burp. Hearing the small noise of him passing gas, Steve smiled and walked over to you two. Tony quickly stood up and left the room silently, not wanting to have to face the upcoming drama.
You feel Steve standing behind you, you turn towards him, his eyes silently asking you to hold the baby. You help Steve maneuver the baby into his arms. Steve starts to break down at the feeling of his son in his arms.
“What's his name?” Steve asked you.
“Tobias Joseph Rogers, Toby for short”
“You named him after my dad?” Steve asked, teary-eyed. You nodded, Steve was touched you named the baby with intention, even if you didn’t know if Steve was coming back.
“Doll, I know that I hurt you, but please, let me back in, I swear on my life that I’ll protect you two,” Steve begged you, wanting nothing more than to hold you and the baby and to call you a family.
“I don’t know Steve, you broke my heart, I can’t do it again,” You whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to protect yourself from him. You wanted to try again, but you were scared, what if he left again?
“You won't have to, I will never leave you, please just let me try,” He begged you, hoping that you missed him as he misses you.
“Okay, one more chance, but your doing diapers for the next 6 months,” You said sternly.
Steve felt his heart swell, he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you towards him with a searing kiss, he had missed your kisses and your touch.
“I promise, I will never leave you again, baby, never again,” Steve whispered against your lips.
You pecked his lips and took the baby from his arms, putting him down in his crib, seeing he was already falling asleep in his father's arms. Once the baby was down, Steve grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, pacing to the bedroom.
“Steve!” You squealed, he slapped your ass and growled out, “Let’s work on getting another baby inside you,”
++++
Tony heard the bed frame smacking the wall and rolled his eyes and let out a quiet “Nasty fucking idiots”
you walked into yours and tom’s shared apart, laughing at a comment tom said as he followed behind. it was nice. actually talking to tom. you forgot about all your past with him. it was like he’s never changed. something you think could never happen. but, here you were, laughing at one of tom’s classic sarcastic remarks. which was one of the many reason’s you fell in love with tom.
you see, after you both...broke up, it was terrible. not only did you loose your boyfriend, but your best friend too. you and tom have known each other for years, and of course once you grew older, you started to fall head over heels for each other.
you were the first to fall in love with the holland. you were around 8, while tom was 10. in your head, at that age, you didn’t truly understand what it meant by ‘love’. you thought love was like royalty, based off all the princess films and books you watched. the prince, was always strong. but, most importantly, he will always try and impress the princess. no matter the cost. so, when little old tom was showing off his drawing to you, you froze. tom was your prince. and so you fell in love with him. well, rather the act he put it for you.
however, when you moved into high school, you still didn’t know what ‘love’ truly means. of course, you gained some knowledge on the subject, but you thought all ‘love’ meant was sex and selfies for social media. you thought the idea of love, was to impress other people, not yourself. so, when you and tom had your first kiss (for a whole 10 seconds) you really thought you found your soulmate. or rather the idea of your soulmate
now when you and tom grew up into adults, both of you realised what ‘love’ actually means. it’s not for social media. or your friends. it’s not trying to impress the other person. it’s not intimacy. it’s not the fancy dates, to show the world how much money you’ve got.
true love, is having a shoulder to cry on. a shoulder to vent to, about anything without feeling scared or embarrassed. true love is the person who supports you the most. true love is looking after each other, when they’re too drunk to remember their own name. so, as an adult you finally realise what true love means. and realise how tom has been your true prince, since the start.
but, since you broke up, you felt too upset. too angry to speak to tom. it caused you to fall apart from each other. in a intimate way and a friendly way.
it was easy. moving from being best friends, to a couple. but, since breaking up as a couple, you also broke up as friends. and it hurt you both.
“well, what’s the plan now with the case.” you sighed, pouring you and tom a cup of coffee.
tom laughed, “well since i barged in on them, which will help, trust me, we now know what there exact plan is. without taking it from a computer screen.”
“i’m not going to lie tom,” you spoke, picking up the two steamy cups, and walking over to the table tom was sat on, placing them on the countertop and sitting opposite him, “you could of at least warned me you were going to go, instead of just well...leaving the apartment.”
tom rolled his eyes, playfully, “y/n, i always do stuff on my own remember, so i’m sorry if i forget to tell you that i’m leaving.”
“it could of became 10 times worse!”
“but did it?” tom winked, sipping his coffee, before making a face as it was too hot still.
“touché.” you shrugged. you were only looking out for him.
“so,” tom spoke, breaking the silence, “how have you been?”
“what do you mean?”
“well, i haven’t spoke to you since we you know, so how have you been?”
“oh,” you shrugged, “i’m good. just focusing on work, that’s all what’s happening with me.”
tom laughed, “of course, you’re main priority is work.”
“and that’s a bad thing?”
“no,” tom looked at you, “i didn’t say that, it’s good. you always put other people in front of you, one of the reasons i love you.”
you froze. love. not loved. love. he still loves you?
“i-i mean why i fell in love with you.”
“how are you?” you asked, changing the subject quickly.
“oh erm it’s fine. nothing really exciting going on in my life at the moment. how’s your brother?”
“max is good, he’s getting married next year to amelia.” you replied, blowing on your coffee.
you didn’t mind tom asking about your family. even though, your brother hates tom’s guts after he broke up with you, he will always have a soft spot for tom. they both practically grew up together.
“that’s sweet. i knew they would always end up together.”
you couldn’t help but cause your heat to clench at his words. that’s what people said about you two. but, of course life happens.
“mum asks about you, you know,” he carried on, “she misses you.”
guilt rose in you at what tom was saying. because tom grew close to your family, you grew close to him. his family was like yours. but, you lost contact in them all since the break up.
“she misses your outings to get coffee.” he added.
you and nikki have always been close, so every two weeks you would go out, just you two, to different cafe’s to eat, drink and talk each other’s ears off. it was super nice and soon became a tradition between the two of you. a tradition, that has stopped.
“same.” you frowned slightly, skimming your finger over the top of the coffee mug, remembering all the laughs you both had. tom sensed how guilty you felt, immediately regretting bringing up each other’s families.
“erm,” he coughed, awkwardly, “have you told carson what’s happened?”
“yeah, i texted him quickly on the way up.” you nodded, hating how awkward it got so quickly. tom nodded back, unsure on how to respond. or if he should respond.
“right, thanks to our new friends, we now have a better chance at getting our score.” keith spoke through the computer to one of the men, finally breaking the awkward silence in the apartment. you smiled slightly at tom, him returning the gesture, before you both got up to go over to the screen.
“isn’t there something else we can get? like a million dollars or something?”
keith laughed, “that’s what all the mob groups go for, but we’re different, yes? we’re going for the best score. and thanks to our fbi friend, we know have more entail, so get to work and sort out another meeting with our new friends, okay?”
“yes sir.” the man replied, walking away before keith left with his bodyguards.
your eyes went wide. fbi friend? who’s working with the red dragons?
“what?” tom whispered, thinking the same as you.
you looked at tom, to lock with his as you both stared at each other.
“is there a mole in the agency?” you mumbled, not believing what you were saying.
tom shook his head, “i don’t know. i don’t know who could do something like this. i-i don’t know who betray us like this.”
“who has access to the fbi database, especially about the red dragons?”
“erm, me, you, carson, harrison, peter-“
“wait, harrison?”
“no, it couldn’t be him. i trust him with my life.”
you looked at him, before turning around to log onto the fbi website. clicking numerous of buttons, you went onto the red dragons recent log ins, to see how harrison was only logged in a few minutes ago. showing tom the computer screen, he shook his head.
“we can’t just believe it’s him, after what a log in? anyone could have done it!”
“tom, i can’t believe it either, but he has worked on the red dragons before, maybe he’s decided to work with them?”
“no, y/n, i can’t believe your judging him based off this!”
“i’m only judging on what is there, tom. harrison has logged in, a few minutes ago which is when we found out about the mole in the first place. a coincidence? i think not!” you screeched.
tom groaned, “i-i can’t belive you. harrison is my best friend. he was yours as well.”
“well, things change.” you growled.
you and tom gave each other a hard stare, before you breathed out heavily, walking away into your room, locking the door behind you. you leaned against the door, sighing loudly.
so much for you and tom being friends again.
————
a/n- hey guys! sorry for taking agesss to update this story. this is quite a short chapter, but trust me it will get longer ahah. hope your all okay :)
Rating: Mature
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death
Categories: F/F, F/M
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir
Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut
Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.
»»————- ⚜ ————-««
“Agonies are one of my changes of garments,
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become
the wounded person,
My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.”
— Walt Whitman
»»————- ⚜ ————-««
The morgue is cool and quiet, gleaming metal polished to a shine that sends little daggers of light into Lir’s eyes. She gives herself a moment to adjust, listening to the faint tic tic tic of the freezers, fingering the bottle of aspirin in her pocket while she waits to see if the subtle pressure in her skull is going to shift from discomfort to agony. Next to the door is a desk, with a state of the art computer, a few files, a cup full of pens, and a half-drunk cup of coffee with lipstick on the rim; beyond that, there is another door, one that probably leads to a storage room, two walls of cold lockers in four rows of four, and two x-ray displays on the final wall. In the center of the room are three slabs. On one of them is the Jane Doe, covered respectfully with a sheet, her eyes closed to give her an expression of peace. At her side is Trish, her blonde hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head and her face partially obscured by a sterile mask that she tugs down on Lir’s approach.
“Thorne,” she greets cheerfully. “You here for the autopsy report?” Lir nods, and Trish beckons her closer. “You’re right on time. Just got done with our guest.”
Lir isn’t sure what to make of having a corpse called a guest. Gallows humor, she supposes. “What can you tell me about her?”
“She suffered, that’s for certain.” Trish turns on the light over the slab and pulls it down, illuminating the Jane Doe with a grisly, fluorescent white that turns her already dead pallor a sickly blue-gray. Then she pulls the sheet down, and Lir is suddenly, incredibly grateful that she hasn’t eaten yet, the bile in her throat bitter but weak. “The throat and abdominal trauma was all perimortem. She was alive, but not struggling, when our killer cut her open. Judging from the tissue damage, looks like the throat happened first, but it was ultimately shock and blood loss that killed her.”
“She was alive for the whole thing?”
“Mm-hm. Though I don’t know how aware of it she was. I don’t have the toxicology report yet—that will take a little longer to run, sorry—but pupil dilation is indicative of intoxication. Judging from the depth of the gash here,” Trish points to Jane Doe’s throat, “it was more to keep her quiet than kill her. She would have bled out from that alone eventually if no one found her first, but it doesn’t go through bone. The hesitation marks at the edges make me think he was more . . . Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Probably sawed through her.”
Lir tries to picture it, being too strung out or drunk to defend herself, being helpless while some maniac slashed her throat and cut her open like a butcher. From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a red dress and pale hair and holds her breath, counting to ten until it fades, then asks, “You said at the scene there weren’t any defensive wounds.”
“That’s right. And there aren’t. No blood or tissue under her nails, no bruising or scrapes or cuts to show that she tried to fight back.” Trish sighs, lifting the sheet back over Jane Doe before tugging off her gloves. “Whoever this is, they’re one sick puppy.”
“Yeah.” Photographs on the wall catch her attention, and Lir walks over to study them closely. They’re all from the crime scene, some of little bits of evidence next to their markers, others of the victim, and it’s the latter she really looks at. “Does that pendant have any religious connotations?”
“You’d have to check. Why?”
“I just thought she looks kind of like an angel.”
Trish comes to stand next to her, her expression grave. “You know, I had the same idea.”
They stand in a heavy silence, the clock on the wall ticking loudly until Lir sighs. She bids farewell to Trish, who promises to have the full report to her by the end of the day, and takes the elevator back up to the bullpen. Dante will no doubt want to know what she’s learned, but she finds that she doesn’t quite want to tell him. Something about this all is nagging her, tugging the thin strands of her memory with an urgency, look, look, you’ve seen this before, even though she’s fairly certain that she never has. Was there a similar case in Fortuna? So lost in wracking her thoughts she nearly runs right into Simmons as she steps off the elevator, and she mumbles an apology and returns to her desk, where she boots up the computer, hunting for a notepad and a pen while she waits for it to finish loading.
A cup of coffee thudding next to her elbow has her peering up. Dante sits back down, a cup of his own in his hand that he raises to her before he takes a sip. His face screws up in disgust. “Fuck. No matter how long I’m here, coffee still tastes like shit. What’d Trish say?”
“That we’d have the full report soon,” Lir replies. She finds what she was looking for and logs into the terminal. “Victim was slaughtered like livestock and left to die. Too something to even try to save her own life.”
“That all?”
She’s aware of his gaze, critical and assessing on her, and it makes her skin flush unpleasantly. “Until toxicology comes back.”
With a nod, he leans back in his seat. “Alright. What are your thoughts?”
Now you want to know? she nearly asks. Rubbing her temples, she replies instead, “Our guy is bold. A nightclub on one side, a bar on the other, people coming and going at all hours? Not to mention, he had to have been familiar with the location to avoid the security camera, if he did. Speaking of, is that footage here yet?” Dante shakes his head. “Right. Okay. So, Jane Doe was probably at one of the two places. Why risk dragging her any farther than that? And he had to get her to go with him somehow. A knife or a gun would have been too obvious, even for a crowded bar.”
“Could’ve posed as a hook-up,” Dante suggests.
“Mm. If she wasn’t drunk, he might have drugged her.”
“Drugs?”
“Her pupils were blown.”
“So,” he says slowly, “we’ve got a bold, possibly attractive killer who goes to bars to pick up women. Think he knew the vic?”
Lir realizes suddenly that he’s testing her, digging to see her worth, and it makes her angry all over again. “No, too risky. He’s got balls, but he’s not an idiot. All this planning, all the care he took, he wouldn’t want to leave any trace of himself, and that means he was probably a stranger and he picked her out when he got there. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”
“Opportunistic. Well, shit. Means he’s gonna be a bitch to find.” He offers her a crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Want to flip a coin to see who’s givin’ Morrison the news?”
“You do it. I need to look for something.”
Dante frowns then, but the expression is quickly smothered as he stands. He takes his coffee with him into Morrison’s office; once the door is closed firmly behind him, Lir releases a sigh and slumps in her chair, cradling her head in her hands. This was meant to be a new beginning for her. Get out of Fortuna, away from the good-intentioned but condescending men she worked with, leave the bitter break-up and the cramped apartment behind her to set out in the bigger city. Yet here she is, dealing with condescending men, living in an apartment that’s large enough to feel empty, with a killer that she knows she has an infinitesimally small chance of catching on her hands. Maybe I’ll get a cat, she thinks, and then discards it. She’s going to be too busy to give any pet the love it would deserve.
Lir pulls up the database and enters her credentials, watching the wheel spin as the program decides whether or not she’s allowed in. Once it opens, she navigates to the search bar, where she types evisceration, hoping the term will be narrow enough to ping any cases that might have been similar. All she gets are animal cruelty cases, youths torturing cats and dogs, and she groans. Next is religious, but that doesn’t get her anything other than some fraud. Jane Doe is too broad, while trying by location only gets her arrests for petty theft, assault, and drunk and disorderlies. Her fingers drum on her desk as she thinks; maybe, if whatever it is that she thinks she remembers was before her time in the force, it would have been before they started digitizing their records.
Which would mean figuring out the location and then digging through that city’s physical files.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. Most of what she said to Dante was speculation, and she knows that they’re going to spend at least a week trying to identify their victim and looking for anyone who might have seen her, tracking down friends and acquaintances and ex-boyfriends to see if any of them had the fury and the cruelty needed to butcher someone like that. If they’re lucky, she’ll have gotten into some sort of trouble with the law and there will be prints they can match. If they’re unlucky, it’s beating the streets, shoving her photograph in people’s faces to try and jar their memory.
“Detective?” Lir opens her eyes to find Simmons standing next to her, a USB stick in his hand. “The nightclub owner sent this over. Said it’s all the footage from the last twenty-four hours and you wanted it?”
He sounds uncertain, and she forces herself to smile. “Yeah, thanks. While I’ve got you here, can I ask a favor?” Hesitantly, he nods. “Head down to the morgue to get the victim’s prints from Trish and run ‘em, will you? It’s a long shot, but it might help us figure out who she is.”
Simmons doesn’t look like he finds the idea appealing, but he gives a weak salute and heads down the stairs. Lir watches him until he disappears into the elevator, and then she plugs the USB into her computer and opens the files to scroll through it. Twenty-four hours of hopefully unaltered footage stored in four hour chunks which, when she clicks on the first video to play it, turn out to be monochrome and grainy. She fights through the urge to yank her hair, instead getting up and going to grab a fresh cup of coffee from the canteen. After a moment of hesitation, she takes the entire pot, setting a second one to brew; this is going to be an all-nighter for sure, and the only thing that’s going to get her through it is enough caffeine to make her jittery.
Dante is back at his desk when she returns. He arches a brow at the sight of her with the pot, but that turns into a loud groan as she says, “Footage got here. All twenty-four hours worth. Want to grab a seat?”
“There’s a meeting room we can use,” he mutters. “Bigger screen. Grab it and let’s go. Is that all the coffee?”
“For now.”
His long-suffering sigh draws an unwilling smile from her. Dante leads her down a hallway to a room mostly taken up by a large oval table surrounded by plush leather chairs, and he sinks into one as she sets up the monitor on the wall and gets the USB situated. “Ready?”
“Not really.”
“Tough shit.” She chuckles and presses play.
Hours pass as they work through both the footage and the coffee, pausing only when they catch sight of a pale-haired woman before slumping back in disappointment and carrying on. Morrison stops by once to check on them, then Simmons with the news that the prints were a dead end, and finally Trish with her full report, toxicology included. None of them linger for more than a few minutes at most. Dante and Lir alternate bathroom breaks and coffee runs, neither of them willing to stop the tape until it’s done. Like ripping a bandaid off, she thinks at one point, stifling a yawn before taking a large swig of her lukewarm coffee. Get it over with in one go, no hesitation.
It’s just passed four in the morning when Dante lurches in his seat. “Pause it, pause it!” Lir jumps, pressing quickly on the remote, and he squints. “Rewind it a bit. There, stop, stop. Press play.”
“What is—oh!” She scrambles for the file on the table, flipping it open so she can see the picture of Jane Doe clipped to the inside. Pulling it free, she holds it up, glancing between it and the screen. “It’s her.”
“Mm. Looks like . . .” He leans forward, his eyes narrowed as his lips move silently. “Two?”
Lir blinks, then turns her laugh into a rough cough. “No. It’s, uh . . . It’s 3:37.”
Dante scowls at her as he reaches into the pocket of his vest to pull out a pair of square glasses, the style just as noir as his clothing. He perches them on his nose, then nods. “Yeah. Alright. So our victim walked into the club at 3:37 am. Since her body was found at quarter to eight, means there’s a five hour window for our killer to have found her and pulled her into the alley.”
“That’s if you don’t remove however long she was in the bar and the killer leaving,” Lir points out.
He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a wiseass, Thorne. It’s not cute.”
“I’m not here to be cute,” she replies irritably.
“Shame.” Just as she’s debating dumping her coffee on him, he asks, “There a way to print this? We’ll take it with her autopsy photo and show it to the staff at the club, see if any of ‘em remember her. Maybe she paid with a credit card, which’d give us a name.”
“You plannin’ to sleep tonight?” she asks dryly.
“Sleep when you’re dead, Thorne. Print and let’s go.”
Biting her tongue, she heads back to the computer attached to the monitor and screenshots the frozen video. Once it’s in her hands, the two of them head out back, where the employee lot is, and Dante leads her to a car that she recognizes from her childhood. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the ‘58 Corvette, the same type her father had often talked dreamily of owning when he retired, the black paint and white cut-outs glossy in the early dawn light. The top is closed against the dew, but she can still make the red leather interior, and she laughs incredulously when Dante unlocks it. “Seriously?”
“You can take a cab if you like,” he replies tightly.
Lir closes her mouth and climbs in, looking around curiously. The seats are incredibly comfortable, and it doesn’t seem like Dante has done any upgrading to it at all: the gearshift is still topped by a clean white knob, and the only source of sound is the radio, the knob of which Dante turns until classical rock filters softly through the speakers. A good car is like a good woman, her father had told her two months before his death, holding her in his lap as he pointed to the yellowed magazine, treat her right and she’ll stick with you for life. She’d put the damned ad in his casket before they buried him, and Lir closes her eyes against both the unwelcome sting of tears and the sight of him with his misshapen head on the silk pillow. Botched robbery, her mother said tearfully. Throat closed with sudden grief, just as sharp as it had been then, Lir hardly notices when they pull away from the curb.
“She’s beautiful,” she whispers.
Dante’s startled silence is the only reply she gets.
A/N: This story is consuming me. I’m currently just starting Chapter 14, so that means if I keep my schedule the way I am, y’all gonna have this for the next month. Also, I have been having a lot of fun with the Agent/Non-Agent/Admin Staff code name stuff. Maybe a little TOO much fun.
Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.
Tag List: @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest [please message me to be added or subtracted]
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]
Part 4
Gone
In the wee hours of the morning, Ginger ran through the halls of HQ and jumped into the elevator, willing the damn thing to hurry up. When it finally dropped her off on the eighth floor, she rushed down the hall to Jack’s apartment, using her master key to open the door. When she ran into his room, she started calling his name.
“Whiskey! You have got to get up! GET UP NOW!” She was practically screaming in her panic and she shoved at his shoulder. The sudden noise startled Jack and he shot straight up in bed as if he had been launched by some unseen force. When he turned to Ginger, confusion mixed with a little irritation sprang up on his face.
“What in the hell, Ging? It’s what? 3:00 a.m.? What the hell are you doing in my house?”
“No, it’s 5:00 a.m., but that doesn’t matter, you have got to come with me!” She was pulling his arm and he was forced to throw his legs over the edge of the bed, thanking the lord he was wearing pants for once. He stood up and Ginger grabbed his hands and kept pulling. But he wasn’t taking another step until he got an answer.
“GINGER!” He shouted and she stopped when he put his hands on her upper arms. “What in the damnation is going on?!”
“Its Sirah! She’s gone! She’s gone! Oh god, Whiskey, she’s gone!” Her tears started up again and a small part of her was ashamed at her behavior. But her best friend was missing, possibly dead, and the hole in her heart ached terribly. She wanted her back.
Jack yanked his hands from her arms and stumbled back. Ginger’s words stole his breath and he wasn’t sure if his heart was even beating anymore. He had been punched in the gut thousands of times, but not even one felt as terrible as this did. Without a second thought, he ran from his apartment and he could hear Ginger running after him.
He made a left in the hall and headed for the stairs – the elevator was going to be too slow – and taking steps two and three at a time, he ran down to the fifth floor. A few times he stumbled but caught himself with Ginger’s loud gasp ringing in his ears.
When they made it down, he slammed open the door and headed right for the board room, passing agents and staff who stopped and stared. The normally put together Agent Whiskey looked a damn mess. When he ran into the room, he noticed that Tequila and Champ were already there, flanked by two other agents. Normally one for manners, Jack ignore them in his haste.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE’S GONE?!” He bit back the rest of his comment when he realized he was yelling. He took a deep breath and then a second when he felt Ginger’s hand on his forearm. He had to get himself together if he was going to save her. He had to listen.
“Whiskey, well over four days ago the safe house West Coast was using on the California case was blown up. The tracking devices confirmed that Malbec and Sirah were the only agents in the house at the time and since the explosion, Sirah’s device has been silent. West Coast dispatched agents immediately and they found Malbec dead from a single gunshot wound to the head. Sirah was nowhere to be found.” Champ struggled to speak as he gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles were white. She had been gone almost five days and West Coast just notified HQ on the situation. He wasn’t sure what was driving him more now, his grief or his anger.
Like Whiskey, he took several deep breaths to remain professional and to get through this, but it was damned hard. All three men had grown fond of Sirah in their own way – Tequila felt brotherly affection, Champ saw her as a daughter, and Jack. . . . Well, Jack loved the hell out of her.
“We found Agent Sherry dead, also from a gunshot wound. Same gun was used in both shootings.” Tequila added. “Everything at the house and in Sherry’s car was destroyed, by fire for the former and by a person for the latter. Evidence shows that both women left the house with files and paperwork, but nothing was found on the scene when agents arrived.”
Both HQ and West Coast believed that the suspect in the California case was behind all of this because reports from the three agents indicated they were narrowing their list and were close to identifying them. But without all the new information from this phase of the case, any chance they had of finding Sirah in time was slim. The room grew heavy with negative thoughts until Ginger gasped. They turned to look at her.
“No, not nothing. . .“ She turned on her heel and started towards the door. “Sirah uploaded reports and some additional stuff to a database every other day like clockwork. It’s not everything since they couldn’t completely secure the safe house, the rest of it she kept on a microdrive.
“She’s always been so regular about it, I’ll admit I stopped checking her reports about a week ago, just having Kefir process them directly. But I bet everyone one of you that he has everything organized and we can start from there!”
She ran from the room and the rest of the agents followed her. Tech specialist Chai jumped a mile in her chair at the sudden explosion of noise and people in the office. Without a word, Ginger sat at her computer and let her fingers fly across the keyboard. Multiple file windows opened and her eyes darted left to right as she read the dates on the screen. Tequila was right behind her doing the same thing when he spotted the most recent date.
“There!” He pointed, “wait, it says she last uploaded information last night!” Ginger clicked on the file and opened the report. It was sparse and contain no attachments like her others had. Together, Ginger and Tequila skimmed the writings before he stood backwards with his mouth agape. Jack and Champ looked at him curiously.
“I don’t think Sirah wrote this and I don’t think she uploaded it. There is something about this that don’t sound like her at all.” Tequila leaned back down and read the entry again and he looked at Ginger, who nodded in confirmation. “Yep, someone’s fucked with this. I don’t know if they did anything to the rest of her reports, but someone’s trying to throw us off her scent.”
Chai spoke up suddenly, “All her old notes through five days ago were printed out for physical records by Kefir. He would process them weekly, so we have her originals.” She pointed at the box sitting on the specialist’s desk. Tequila walked over and grabbed it.
“Chai, call Saki, Toddy, and Pisco. I don’t care if you wake their asses up, I want them down here immediately.” The even tone Tequila normally sported was replaced with a hard glint and he looked at Champ and Jack with a single question in his eyes.
Champ squared his shoulders; his agent was out there, and he was going to find out who took her and kick their ever-loving ass from the Sierras to the Blue Ridge. He looked at Tequila and Jack and both nodded back to him. They were heading to California.
---***---
Sirah woke up groggy, barely able to see anything through her swollen eyes. The shackles binding her wrists dug deeply into her skin as she moved, and she struggled to open her mouth it was so dry. Suddenly she was drenched in water and she gasped loudly before crying out from the pain jolting through her body as she jerked forward. It was almost too much to handle.
“Where is it, agent?” The voice was back. She wasn’t sure how long she had been where she was, but she knew in between her bouts of unconsciousness that his voice was always there. She struggled to stay awake, to listen, but the fight was so hard. If she could just sleep a little longer. . .
A fist suddenly slammed into her face and she could feel the back of her skull crack against the wall.
“WAKE UP!” The voice screamed. Her head lolled forward in response and he grabbed her chin, yanking her head upwards. “Fucking tell me where the microdrive is at and I’ll let you go.”
Even through the fogginess of her brain, she knew he was lying. She shook her head and croaked, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Like hell you do, you stupid bitch. You’re going to tell me where the hell that goddamn drive is at and then I’m going to kill you like I did that bitch Malbec.” When she didn’t respond, her captor drew his leg back and kicked her in the ribs. Her breath and the voice both left her. Before she could even recover from the most recent abuse, hands began to take the shackles off her wrists. She felt herself being picked up and dragged away to another location.
They entered a room with a blinding single light and a long table. They threw her down on the hard surface and handcuffed her legs and arms to the edge. She couldn’t help the whimper that escape her mouth as searing pain shot down her leg and throughout her back. She didn’t want to show weakness, but whatever grasp she had on her actions was weakening.
“Now, Sirah, tell me where the microdrive is at. I’m done playing around with you.” The small part of Sirah that hadn’t given into the circumstances suddenly rose to the surface.
“Oh, we were having fun? I hadn’t noticed.” Her voice held a smirk even if her face didn’t. If she was going to die, then so be it. At this point, death would be a welcomed end to this ordeal. The voice didn’t respond but she heard the snap of fingers. Suddenly, her face was covered in cloth and before she could react, water was being poured on her head. She was so weak she could bare fight back. When her captor realized this, he demanded the procedure to stop.
“Take her back, I’ll find another way to get it out of her. Besides, it’s no fun if they just sit there and take it. Torture should be fun.” He laughed and she could hear the cruelty in his voice. The cloth was removed and so were the handcuffs. She felt herself being dragged back to wherever they were holding her and suddenly, one of the captors stumbled as they entered her jail cell. They nearly dropped her, and the jarring movement brought fresh waves of pain. She was once again shackled to the wall. She smiled wryly over that. She can’t even move, what was the point?
Can you do one where little Luthor and baby Danvers are best friends but then gets kidnapped and Kara Alex and Lena needs to find them! Thank you! Love your stories
warnings: violence, kidnapping, blood
this one is really long -ah, i’m sorry
You woke up with a bag over your head and tied to a chair.
Panic set in immediately, but you took in what you could of your surroundings.
Someone’s forearm was touching yours, they were sitting beside you.
You could feel a bracelet on their wrist against your skin and immediately knew who it was, recognizing the uniqueness of the jewelry, “Lucie?” You whispered, trying to get your best friend’s attention.
“(Y/n/n)?” She responded quietly, seeming shocked.
“Yeah. Do you know where we are?” Your fingers tried to unknot the rope tied around your wrists.
“No idea, but my head hurts like a bitch,” She groaned softly.
“Mine too,” You grunted and moved your arms to the side to at least try to get her free if you couldn’t free yourself.
“Have you got a bag over your head too?” Lucie inquired as you tried getting her free.
“Yep, can’t see a thing,” Just then you remembered the watch Kara had given you and Lucie, and you mentally facepalmed for not remembering before.
“Lucie, press the button to call Ka - Supergirl,” You caught yourself. Lucie knew, obviously, but you didn’t know if anyone was listening to you guys or if you were being recorded, so you spoke very quietly.
“You’re a genius,” She smiled, even though you couldn’t see it and shuffled to reach your watch the best she could.
It took a good minute, but she was able to press it hard enough that you felt it click, before she closed it, not wanting to cause suspicious if your guys’ kidnappers saw it open.
Then you reached over and pressed the button on hers letting Kara know that the two of you were together.
“You know,” She began. “I’ve been kidnapped with a lot of people, but never with you.”
“We’ve both had our fare share of kidnappings, Lucie,” You chuckled.
The door opening in wherever you guys were made the two of you stop talking.
“Looks like you guys are finally up.” Hearing a voice you never wanted to hear again sent chills up your spine, and you knew damn well Lucie had the same reaction you did.
—
When Kara got both of the alerts seconds apart she knew you’d been kidnapped with Lucie.
She changed into her new Supergirl suit and flew to the DEO while dialing Lena’s number and quickly telling her, “Come to the DEO, (y/n) and Lucie are in trouble,” before hanging up and landing, looking for Alex as soon as her feet touched the ground.
“(Y/n/n) and Lucie both pressed their buttons, Al. They’re in trouble,” Kara was panting a bit from arriving so fast.
“I’ll find out where they are,” Alex’s face showed how panicked she was but she didn’t let that distract her as she pulled up a database on the computer that was tracking the few bracelets Kara had given out.
Brainy opted to help and ushered Alex out of the way.
Lena had arrived very quickly and ran up to Alex and Kara, “Where are they?”
“I’ve picked up a signal from their bracelets just give me three seconds.”
He zoomed in on where you and Lucie were being kept and immediately recognized it. “This is Lex’s old lab.”
“What?” Alex, Kara, and Lena all said in shock simultaneously.
“I said this -“
“No, I heard you,” Kara shook her head, clenching her fists and bouncing on her leg. “Alex, Alex, what do we do?”
“Stop talking,” Brainy quieted Kara, which was seemingly rude but no one cared when they realized why.
On the computer was an audio livestream coming from Lucie’s bracelet.
“A Super and a Luthor, once again,” Lex spoke with a smirk that no one needed to see to know it was there.
“Ever the poet, Lex,” You rolled your eyes. “You know I don’t have powers, why did you even kidnap us? We’re literally no use to you.”
“Are you really that stupid, (Y/n)? It’s -“ Lex was interrupted by you talking.
“Not as stupid as you are,” You said, earning a slap. The sound of it ringing through everyone’s ears as they listened.
“Lex!” Lucie spoke up, stopping him from doing anything else. “What is your problem?”
“The Danvers sisters are my problem,” Lex said with a sickeningly sweet tone for someone who had just slapped you.
“Okay, right, so I don’t mean to be annoying or anything, but they’re not dumb. They know you’re using us as a trap for them,” You deadpanned giving Lex a look, genuinely interested about what the hell he was planning on doing.
“I don’t intend to just hurt them, (Y/n). This is only to hurt you and your sisters. Lucie is just here to watch.”
“Lex, don’t,” Lucie’s voice broke.
“It’s fine,” You interrupted her. If this was going to happen, which you knew it was because your sisters were fast, but you knew they wouldn’t be here until after Lex had accomplished something, at least, so you were going to be an asshole to Lex. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
“Bring it, Megamind,” You snickered, bracing yourself for the punch he was about to throw.
Brainy paused the live audio and looked up at everyone, “This is happening right now, if we hurry we can hopefully stop Lex before anything too bad happens to (Y/n).”
Lena stood beside Kara breathing heavily, in disbelief that Lex was back, slightly relieved that he didn’t intend on hurting Lucie but terrified fo you.
Alex and Kara were in tears, terrified about all the things that could happen to you.
J’onn and Winn had been listening but hadn’t started to engage in the conversation.
“Agent Danvers,” J’onn called, grabbing Alex’s attention. “I’ve called in a team for you and Supergirl. Go save our girls.”
Alex nodded and got her things but Lena took her arm, “I’m coming with you guys. I can help.”
Kara was about to protest but Alex interrupted her, “Lex doesn’t want to hurt her, Kara. She can go in while we’re fighting him and get them out. Go change, Lena.”
Lena left and returned five minutes later, and since everything was ready, everyone left, Kara flying off as fast as she could to reach you and Lucie.
—
Blood dripped down your chin, dripping onto your clothing. You looked like shit.
Lex had eventually grown bored of inflicting pain on you himself so he called in a few of his goons and separated you from Lucie so she was farther away and allowed them to have at you, punching, kicking, slapping, whatever they pleased.
It was getting really hard to breathe and see.
You were crying but made no noise, refusing to give Lex the satisfaction.
Lucie on the other hand was sobbing loudly, begging Lex to stop hurting you.
You stopped caring after a little bit, staying hopeful that your sisters would rescue you. Everything would be okay, and if you got lucky, you would pass out from the pain.
You winced when a gash opened on your forehead and kicked the man who’d given it to you right in the shin, knowing you were in deep shit anyways.
Luckily, he never had a chance to get back at you for it (although it was more: you getting back at him) because Supergirl came crashing through the glass windows and into the building.
Lex was smirking, and it was weird. He didn’t even care that he got caught. It was odd, but Kara didn’t care, punching him so hard that he flew up out of his chair.
His goons hurried over to Kara, preparing themselves to attempt to shoot her and punch her (stupidly).
Alex and her team busted through the doors right after and took out the goons as Lena snuck in and started to untie Lucie.
You caught Alex’s eye, and she immediately dropped her weapon, letting everyone else take care of Lex’s people (and himself) as she ran over to you with tears in her eyes.
“(Y/n/n),” Alex breathed, pullling a pocket knife out to cut off the ropes holding you down.
Lena and Lucie hurried over together and Alex finished getting you untied before picking you up in her arms, “You’re okay now. Lena and I are gonna fix you up.”
You nodded lazily against Alex’s chest, feeling yourself slip in and out of consciousness slowly.
When you, Alex, Lena, and Lucie made it outside, Alex set you down on the ground of the van, leaning you against the wall.
“Lucie, go get inside the car, please,” Lena said, kissing her on the forehead and watching her go inside the car right next to them.
Lucie was still watching everything they were doing, crying softly, feeling like it was all her fault.
She watched as J’onn pulled a bruised Lex out of the lab in handcuffs and as Kara flew over to you through the window. She opened it, to get a better look, her heart clenching as she saw you unconscious with blood dripping down your face and the amount of bruises you had developed.
Lex was loaded into a different DEO van (they’d taken three vehicles) and that one drove off with him and the team of agents.
J’onn joined Lucie in the car, giving her a tight hug, “She’s going to be okay. The Danvers siblings are very strong people.”
He drove away, leaving Alex, Kara, and Lena to take you back to the DEO. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that Lucie was not in the mental condition to be able to see you hurt fo much longer and she needed to leave.
—
The girls had decided that Kara would drive the van. There wasn’t exactly much Alex and Lena could do in a moving vehicle to fix up your cuts and bruises anyways, but they did what they could, stopping the bleeding coming from your most recent gash in your forehead and stopping your nosebleed.
A few minutes from the DEO, you regained consciousness and held on to Alex tightly.
“Thank god you’re okay,” Alex exhaled, cradling you in her arms.
“Drink some water, honey,” Lena spoke, guiding a bottle of water to your lips.
You drank half of it at once, panting softly and tasting blood from your bottom lip as you did.
You offered Lena a lazy smile and settled yourself deeper into Alex’s lap, looking up at her tear-stained face, “Don’t cry, Al. I’m okay.”
“You are far from okay, bub,” Alex shook her head, her eyes watering once again, but you took her hand in your own and squeezed it tightly.
“I’m just fine. As long as I have you guys, I’m the strongest girl in the world, even stronger than Kara over there, but don’t tell her I said that,” Your antics made everyone chuckle softly, releasing a bit of the tension in the van.
“Where’s Lucie?” You asked, looking around as much as you could without causing yourself too much pain.
“She went with J’onn,” Lena said. “I could tell Lucie didn’t want to but it was tearing her up, seeing you like this. I’m really sorry -“
“No,” You shook your head, taking Lena’s hand with the hand not holding Alex’s. “Thank you. I would’ve done the same thing. She looked traumatized in there.”
Lena nodded and sighed softly as Kara pulled into the DEO and lept out of the car, picking you up in her arms and kissing the top of your head as she hurried inside.
Alex and Lena followed quickly in pursuit, right behind Kara as she took you to the med bay.
You saw a bunch of familiar faces as she carried you. Lucie’s first, to which you gave her a soft smile, reassuring her that you were totally fine. Then you saw J’onn, Winn, Brainy, Nia, James, even Maggie.
It seemed like they all knew what happened, since they were there, but they seemed shocked to see how battered you looked nonetheless.
Once you reached the med bay, you were placed on the bad and hooked up to a bunch of machines that you didn’t care enough to ask about.
You were able to remember to ask Lena and Alex not to give you anesthetics, knowing how embarrassing you got when you were under them.
Honestly, the pain couldn’t get worse so what did it matter.
Within the next hour, your cuts had been cleaned and stitched, including the one on your forehead to which Maggie said (she’d been in the room while Alex was stitching it for you), “Chicks dig scars, Danvers.”
Eventually someone had convinced Lucie to visit you.
She stood at the doorway, unsure of wether she should come in or not, “Hey.” You smiled.
She smiled back at you and went to sit down beside you, “I’m so glad you’re okay, (y/n/n).”
“Eh, I’m alive,” You smirked.
“You’ve got some nerve talking to Lex the way you did,” Lucie shook her head, slightly annoyed at how you aggravated him on purpose, knowing that you would only get hurt for it.
“Someone had to put him in his place. God, I wish everyone could’ve heard what I said to him,” You laughed, and it didn’t take anything other than hearing you laugh to get her to laugh.
“Well, I think you’re very brave,” Lucie chuckled, winking at you.
“Mhm,” You nodded. “And I’ve got a cool new scar to show for it too.”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely worth it,” She said sarcastically, making the two of you laugh.
“C’mere,” You said, making grabby hands, and scooting as much as you could so Lucie could lay beside you.
She carefully got in, knowing better than to argue with you and pulled you close to her.
“Hey, (y/n)?”
“What’s up?” You asked, drowsily.
“Thanks for being my best friend,” She smiled.
“Duh,” You chuckled. “I’d be so bored without you, dummy.”
No man is an island.
Some men are fjords.
Most men are oxbows.
All men are ravines.
Welcome to Night Vale.
The news coming up. But first, let’s go to the weather.
[nature noises, birds cawing]
There’s a cold front moving through Night Vale. Temperature at City Hall is currently 63 degrees and sunny with wind gusts later this afternoon of up to 40 miles per hour. These winds are expected to bring cold air as low as 20 degrees this evening, and possibly dropping to below zero overnight. It’s unknown what’s causing this weather, is a statement I make every day, looking out into the sky. Is it God? P-perhaps it is the government. Perhaps Earth itself is, is it out of boredom that the weather exists? Maybe it is out of care. That would suggest the existence of a God who wishes us well, but it does not explain the fierce destructiveness of a blizzard, or a heat wave, or a tornado, or a tsunami. Is a tsunami weather? That is a question best left to oceanographers, meteorologists, or a Tarot deck.
But why would God make a thing, then mar it? What mood change is this? what care can this god have for humanity? Ahhhh. And maybe that’s the point.
Ah, that does make me feel better, to think that it all doesn’t matter. It really takes a lot of pressure off, doesn’t it?
Let’s have a look at agriculture. John Peters – you know, the farmer – says his orange crop this year is massive. He says the quantity of product has not deviated, only the quality.
“Them oranges are huuuu-uuge!” John said, holding an orange the size of the 2002 iMac computer. “I can’t fit this thing into one of them orange crushers (what that) I make the juice with!” he said, struggling to keep his back straight under the weight of the abnormally sized citrus fruit.
But John says he’s excited for his orange grove, which has been doing great ever since he genetically modified his crop to no longer cause teleportation across existential dimensions when consumed. Despite his excitement for orange sales, John says he’s worried about next year’s crop of invisible corn. He said he looked up summer 2020 in his farmer’s almanac and all it said was, “Wellll crap. Good luck.” John plans to diversify his farm investment by raising cattle for slaughter. He’s vegan these days, so he does not want to sell the cattle for meat or dairy. He’ll just raise the cattle until they’re old enough to kill.
Best of luck in all your endeavours, John! Hope you finally win that coveted Best Orange at the Citrus Festival this year.
Many of our listeners have written concerned emails about the temperature possibly falling below zero. Bob Sturm of Old Town said: “Zero is the lowest number, Cecil. I’m a big stats guy and I can tell you that you cannot have less than nothing, that’s impossible.” Well listen Bob, I’m a journalist, not a numerologist, so I don’t know what to tell you. Apparently there are many unknown numbers below zero, and as they are discovered, rest assured I will be here to report on them.
(Reina Guerrero) from the west side asked if there’s anything we can do to better prepare ourselves for this weather. Well (Reina), here are some tips I just looked up online.
One: bundle up. Yeah, your heater can only do so much.
Two: bring your pets indoors, and if you have an agent from a Vague, yet Menacing Government Agency outside your home assigned to record your every movement, invite them in as well. You don’t want them freezing alone out there in their black sedan.
Three: light a fire, if you have a fireplace. If you do not have a fireplace of pellet stove, try using a refrigerator or sink.
Four: if you should lose power at any time, do not panic. Just curl into a ball breathing heavily and repeating: “Oh God no, oh God no, oh God no, oh God no”, through loudly chattering teeth.
Now, we’re not expecting precipitation tonight, but should it snow, I recommend making a snow angel. Yeaaah, that’s always fun. All you have to do is lie flat on your back, arms and legs outstretched, until you are called into celestial service to whatever greater authority rules these beautiful creatures.
Thank you for your questions and comments. I’ll do my best to keep our town up to date on the latest weather.
But first, this Saturday is Night Vale’s annual Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza at the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. There will be live music by local bands, including a new band by Dark Owl Records owner Michelle Nguyen and her girlfriend Maureen. [quietly] Ah, my old intern Maureen. Their band is called The Funtastics, and it’s a folk country slash (trans) tribute band performing the acappella covers of Philip Glass scores. According to Michelle’s press release: “Please do not watch our show. I’m very angry you even know about it. I hate that our secret concert at the annual Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza, Night Vale’s most anticipated and attended annual event, was leaked to the press.”
Following the concert, there will be a collective prayer to the [gong, echoing] Great! Golden! Hand! And then the fireworks will begin. Event organizers say they have a special fireworks display in store for attendees this year. Traditionally, the biggest explosions are reserved for the end of a half-hour long buildup of lesser explosions, but focus groups have indicated that people are tired of having to wait for the best part. So instead of normal boring fireworks, they will be blowing up old cars using the 18,000 tons of solid fuel they found at an abandoned missile silo on the edge of the Sand Wastes. The Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza would like to thank the Sheriff’s Secret Police for the vehicle donations, which are mostly cars impounded this past week for overdue state inspection stickers. Can’t wait to see everybody this Saturday at the Fireworks Extravaganzaa!
Brrrr! It’s getting pretty bad out there, Night Vale! The temperature has fallen dramatically to 20 degrees outside the radio station. I can hear the creak and groan of our antenna straining under the 40 mile per hour winds. I’ve seen three different minor accidents outside my window as drivers lost control of their vehicles. I’ve got my little space heater under my desk. Huh, but I can still barely feel my feet. [chuckles] I regret choosing today of all days to bike to work. [sighs]
Oh, I’m getting word that power is out in the Barista District, and dozens of leather apron wearing people have been forced to make torches out of Irish cream soaked biscotti stuffed into (-) [0:09:16]. And the only thing available coffee wise right now is cold brew. Gross.
Employees at the Night Vale power plant are working to restore power to that area of town, but they have run into some difficulties. The blustery winds and extreme cold have kept some of the workers from being able to drive to the plant, and the ones already on site re perplexed by how any of this works.
“We are not sure if this is a nuclear plant or electric or coal or what,” said Mike Reiner, director of operations for the power plant. “We tried turning the whole thing off and back on like a computer, but the switch didn’t really do anything. Nobody labels anything around here, for crying out loud.”
Reiner then began to cry out loud, as dozens of workers rushed to put their arms around the sobbing man.
“We’re sorry, boss, we’re sorry,” the frantic workers all repeated.
In the chaos of the consoling, a single worker was heard whimpering: “Oh god! Someone do something before he changes back into…”
But that voice was quickly and fearfully shushed by the others.
More on the power outage and weather conditions soon.
But let’s get to some good news. Our population is booming, Night Vale! We have more people than houses. But thankfully, the good folks of the private land development industry are helping out. Ah, the altruistic hand of capitalism! A new housing development named The Final Destination is going up in Radon Canyon. New homes start in the 130’s for 2 bedroom semi-detached townhouses, all the way to expensive 10 bedroom estates with beautiful views of the blue..ish mist that settles every morning along the canyon bottom. Representatives from the EPA have warned against building residences in an area known for producing toxic gases, but the developers said they will equip each home with a large exhaust fan and provide a lifetime supply of rebreathers for the first 15 home buyers.
The EPA has tried repeatedly to stop this development, stating that excavation of the canyon floor could lead to the release of more gases, which would catastrophically imperil not only the lives of those in the canyon, but the Earth’s atmosphere for hundreds, if not thousands of miles in all directions.
“Who knows what’s beneath the shale in that canyon?” one EPA representative said. The representative was wearing a sports coat too large for his frame and comically out of date glasses. He continued: “We have been trying to declare Radon Canyon a Superfund site for years, but Night Vale doesn’t show up in any government database and so it cannot receive its projection. Didn’t you ever see the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, how everybody’s faces melted off, it’d be just like that.”
When it was pointed out that the end of that movie was good because it was Nazi faces melting, the EPA representative said: “Yeah yeah you’re right, that was pretty cool but still, get what I’m trying to say right?”
Nobody did, because it was a weird thing to bring up a 40-year-old movie about Nazis and museum artefacts.
So, now we will have new housing in the heart of Night Vale’s most beautiful scenic attraction, beginning spring next year.
I’m getting word that the power is out now in Old Town Night Vale and at the library, and on the south end. The temperature has dropped to 5 degrees and I think it will continue to plummet throughout the night. People are doing everything they can to prepare. Before the stores close, I recommend driving out and picking up some water as well as canned goods, even some fresh produce and raw meat while it’s still there. I mean, people worked hard to grow that food ten states away and then drive it across the country right here to you and you haven’t bought it yet? Even if your refrigerator’s not working because of the power outages, it’ll be cold enough in your house to keep it all fresh. So get out there and spend your money on food! We have so much of it. Let’s use it, Night Vale.
But above all: stay warm! If you’re alone, visit a neighbor. Body heat and company can help a lot in weather like this. And if you have room in your home, welcome your neighbors in! There’s no reason to be alone at a time likes. Plus it’s the holiday season, why not keep each other warm with stories, with camaraderie, with good fellowship? [shivering noises] Yet, if you can’t be with others tonight, [groans] then I will do my best to keep you company through this brutal cold.
Ah, I’d like to tell you a story of my childhood. It’s a very personal story, one I‘ve never shared on the air before. [shivering noises] I’m a bit nervous to tell it to you all, but if ever there was time for a story to bring us closer together, now is that time. I will tell you that story in a moment, but first,
let’s have a look at sports.
[“Suspension of Disbelief” by Victory Soul Orchestra https://victorysoulorchestra.com]
[beeps]
Computer: The National Weather Service has issued a severe weather warning for the greater Night Vale area. Temperatures as low as -10 degrees are predicted with high winds gusting up to 16 miles per hour. Wind chills overnight may reach -30 degrees. Residents of Night Vale and the surrounding towns of Pine Cliff, Red Mesa, and Desert Bluffs too should seek shelter. They should band together around fireplaces with heaters at their highest settings. In cases where heat sources are not accessible or operating, residents should huddle in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs. Come huddle with us. Come huddle with us. There is a barrel here. It is filled with trash and we have lit it on fire. It is so warm, the trash. The trash is mostly paper and cardboard, but it is also something greater than that. It is a symbol of progress of the great tower of industry (and need) [0:19:51], a ruined towel like Babyl, which just toppled down of the weight of its hubris, and in the language of flame it tells us things. It tells us so much, not through words but through visions.
Here is a list of visions the fire has revealed to us.
One: two spools of coaxial cable.
Two: a single white bulb atop of an anthill.
Three: an empty keg around squat cylinder of frosting, beneath which lies nothing, not even air. A void (cake). “Happy birthday,” echoes the choir from a good distance away.
Four: a great black bird whose white wings brush along the castle turret.
Five: a snake spiraled and asleep inside a leather boot.
Six: a wheelless tractor in a vast wasteland of cracked earth.
Seven: your brother. Not a brother you know, but a brother you once had. He looks like you and he repeats your name, but backwards.
Eight: smoke clouds shaped like vice grips.
These are the visions of the flames in the barrel in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs.
Beneath our gaze and across our minds, beyond our consciousness, these are the remains of the great tower of humanity. Come huddle with us. You without heat. You without home. You without hope. Come huddle with us.
This severe weather warning is in effect (through) 8 PM tomorrow, when the warm front is expected to move through the region bringing sunny skies and high temperatures in the mid-80’s, and everyone will return to their normal lives, satisfied that they have (-) [0:21:51] death once again, confusing accidental survival with competence and immortality. What doesn’t kill you only makes you more complacent. The National Weather Service knows this is but a night together with you, not a whole life. For what we have in this moment is (truer) than rain, but deeper than thunder. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not saying the morning will not hurt. I’m only saying the joy of memory is stronger than the prick of any (plate) upon my heart.
This has been a severe weather warning from the national weather service. Stay tuned to the station for further updates.
I love you. I have always loved you. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.
[beeps]
Cecil: And that is what I saw in the mirror that day. And why I do not like to go near mirrors. Ever.
[sighs] I never told that story to anyone before. I hope it has kept you company throughout this treacherous night. I hope it has kept you warm. Just knowing you’re listening somewhere out there in the cold dark has kept me warm. Stay safe, wherever you are.
Good night, Night Vale… [shivers]
Good night.
Today’s proverb: Who called it Snowpiercer instead of Chris Evans’s Polar Express?
