Trying to condense down how many works I have on the masterlist, but that means longer multiple scene posts. Do y'all prefer more shorter snippet posts, or fewer posts with longer/more scenes?
Masterlist
~~~
“I’ve been out of the game too long.” Myra slumps in the passenger seat of the car, rubbing her head. “I’d forgotten how utterly useless informants are.”
Harriet hums from the backseat. She’s got her laptop open, the soft glow illuminating her face. Milo is sitting on the opposite side in the dark, staring out the window.
Bird has her gaze fixed on the road. Most roads would be empty at this hour of the night, but there was still a good amount of traffic around here. Most of the clubs in this area were owned by the Torchlights, a cell notorious for holding the most egregious parties behind the club curtains at all hours of every day.
“He knows who we’re looking for,” Bird mutters. “He said she wants us to ‘figure it out for ourselves’. The fake-out said something similar at the Blood Jacker’s pit.”
“Yeah, but who is she?” Myra grumbles. She pulls her mask down and frowns at Bird. “After that letter and the dumb informant, it’s obvious-”
Myra’s complaints are interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Bird picks it up and glances at it. It’s not their personal phones, but the encrypted one.
Unknown Number
“Hare, track it?” Bird says as she swipes answer. Only a very few people outside of the team had the encrypted number, and they were all saved in the phone.
The line is silent at first. The car waits in anticipatory silence. Then, just as Bird moves her thumb to the end call button, there’s static.
The sound of a crowd builds like a steady wave.
Cheering, roaring, chanting, voices echoing like a thousand feet marching.
Trial of blood! Trial of blood! Trial of blood!
The sounds grows and grows until it’s almost unbearable. West and Myra have their hands clasped over their ears. Harriet is frantically typing, trying to push through the sound. Bird pulls the car over into a parking lot and stares at the phone in disbelief.
Her hands are tight around the wheel, but her palms are slick with sweat. Trial of Blood. The same trial the informant had mentioned? Something else?
The line goes dead, and the car is left in ear-ringing silence. Only the low growl of the car engine and the occasional passing of traffic.
“Message received,” Milo says dryly. Bird can hear his foot tapping against the mat, contrasting the unbothered expression she sees in the mirror.
Bird drops the phone into the cupholder and leans her head back against the head rest. Harriet is still typing in the back. The sound of the keyboard felt too loud, now.
Harriet’s typing is sharp and fast, but it’s only a moment before she slams the laptop shut with a huff of frustration. “That shouldn’t be possible. No one should be able to cut us off, not like that.”
The leader pushes the phone down and closes the cupholder, like that would cut off the lingering weight of the call.
Myra turns in her seat to look at her. “But someone did. And we don’t know who.” She rubs her forehead harder, like the sound had burrowed itself into her brain.
Bird puts the car back in gear and makes the turn onto the main road. Her chest is tight, the city lights ahead hazy in the windshield. Whoever she was, she knew their number. Their signals. Potentially their names, if she wanted.
This was someone more unpredictable and dangerous than anyone Bird had faced with the team yet.
~~~
“I’m just saying-”
“-You’ve been ‘just saying’ for the past hour,” Myra snaps. “We get it!”
Bird’s eyelid is twitching. The tension in the room is thick, like something lodged deep in the throat. She can hear the eye roll Laura gives Myra.
She rolls her shoulders, before turning to face the room.
“Alright, let’s just start over,” she says, waving her hand. A couple people mutter protests, but no one speaks up to be heard. “We’re getting nowhere with this. Let’s talk about the phone call.”
“Talk?” Jake asks. He leans forward, arms folded tight across his chest. “Bird, that was a direct threat. They know our numbers, how to get past our encryption. Maybe even our location. We should be moving bases tonight.”
“Paranoid much?” Milo drawls, slouched so far down in his chair he looks boneless. “It was noise and theater. Scare tactics. Relax.”
Ridge sets his elbow on the table and leans his head into his hand. “You can never be too paranoid, Milo. I can’t tell you how many paranoid people used to walk into my hospital because they felt the smallest bit of pain, and found out something major was wrong with them.”
Milo shoots a glare across the table, but a few are nodding in silent agreement.
Bird sets both hands on the table and purses her lips. She glances around the room. Maybe it was a smart idea to move bases tonight, but to where? They didn’t have any sort of backups available. And moving would leave them vulnerable, anyways.
Piper, who’s perched on the edge of her chair, raises her hand. “Sorry if I’m like, the only one not following here, but what trial? Like, a pit fight? A test? Are we the trial?”
The room goes still at that. Only Harriet continues without pause. She’s got an earbud in and hasn’t said anything the entire meeting, Bird isn’t sure if she’s even listening or not.
“Good question,” Harriet replies. Her reading glasses reflect a dozen open tabs. “I’ve been running cross-checks since I got the signal un-jammed. There are whispers in older Blood Jacker chatter. Phrases like ‘champions of blood’ and ‘witch trials’. Always tied to Red Ring pit fights.”
Bird doesn’t like the sound of any of it. Piper made a good point. They very well could be the trial. The phone call had seemed like a summons, of sorts. Myra had taken the letter-the invitation, as it was described-and it had only been a day before they got the phone call.
Raya picks up a pen and taps it on the notebook in front of her. “It’s like pouring boiling water down an ant hill,” she says softly. “They’re trying to put pressure on us and flush us out. I think we should stay, for the time being.”
“I agree,” Myra says with a nod. “But we should probably have a backup ready, just in case. Anyone opposed?”
No one speaks up. Even Jake seems somewhat agreeable with the decision. Bird looks over at a map of the city hung on the wall.
Every spot that was a known pit was marked with a red pin. Clubs were marked with blue, gang and cell territories were circled and marked in black pen. There’s still a corner of the map unmarked, the top right. They hadn’t had time to send a recon team out there yet, as it was fenced off and heavily guarded from every angle.
“I just think,” Nate begins, pulling her from her thoughts, “That if we want to find anything, we outta get our hands dirty.”
“He’s got a point,” Laura says over the sighs and groans. “To know how the pits work, we gotta be in the pits.”
Will shakes his head quickly. “Nope. Absolutely not. You want a big red target on your back, that’s how you get one.”
Nate punches his hand into his fist, grinning. “You just have no love for the game, Willy.”
“I want to be on the front lines as much as the rest of you,” Jake growls, “But even I don’t agree with joining the pits. We’d be stooping to their level.”
The room splits in two. Nate leans forward, elbows on his knees, practically vibrating with the idea. Laura mirrors him, that wild light in her eyes. On the other side, Will’s jaw is locked, his arms crossed like stone, while Jake looms in the middle, caught between the fire and the frost.
Bird pulls her chair over and sits down. Sometimes, it was better to let the wick burn a bit before snuffing it out. Something productive usually came out of it, if you knew how to listen.
Ridge speaks up again. “The pits will chew you up. We’ve seen enough bodies to prove it.”
“Yeah, yeah, doom and gloom,” Piper says, propping her feet up on the table. “But admit it—you’re all a little curious. What’re they hiding down there that we haven’t already seen?”
Harriet doesn’t look up from her laptop. “Statistically speaking, you’d have a better chance of surviving a plane crash than lasting in a pit fight. I’m not recommending it.”
“Not recommending?” Nate smirks. “So you’re not saying no.”
Bird’s fingers drum against the armrest of her chair, a steady rhythm. When the bickering reaches its loudest point, she stands once again.
“We’re not stepping into the pits.” Her voice cuts through everything, calm but firm. “Not yet. If this mystery person wants blood, she’s not getting ours. We play smarter than that.”
The silence that follows is thick—half frustrated, half relieved. No one argues, but she knows better by now than to not expect someone to follow up this meeting with a stupid decision.
The team kitchen looks like a crime scene for sanity. Crumbs coat the counters. Something sticky drips down the side of the fridge. A strange sizzling sound hisses from the microwave.
Harriet stands at the center, frozen in place, half a sandwich in one hand, the other holding a knife mid-spread. Her eyes dart from the microwave where Cane is watching something bubble ominously, to Piper, who has both hands wrist-deep in a cereal box that she definitely didn’t buy.
“This feels illegal,” Harriet whispers quietly to herself. It doesn’t go unheard, unfortunately.
“It’s not illegal, it’s chemistry,” Cane says with excitement. “And technically, I did label the container ‘volatile,’ so really-”
Will interrupts like Cane hadn’t been talking. He’d been scrubbing the counter, but that was paused as he stared into the sink. “Why is there jelly in the sink?”
Piper replies, her mouth full of cereal. “Because Harriet got mad when I put it in the toaster oven.”
“I got mad because you put the glass jar in the toaster oven, Piper!”
How she had even fit the glass jar into the tiny toaster oven, Harriet wasn’t even going to try and figure it out. She may be the head scientist of the team, but only the lord knew how the rest of the team continued to come up with incredible feats that defied all physics.
“Semantics,” Piper replied simply.
Milo, leaning against the doorframe, lifts his phone and records Cane with one raised brow.
“Do we even have fire insurance, or is this one of those ‘sign a waiver and hope you survive’ places?”
“Relax. The last fire was, like, three weeks ago. Statistically, we’re overdue.”
Deacon chooses this moment to skateboard through the doorway, nearly clipping Will, who jerks the mop out of the way just in time.
“Deacon, for the last time, NO wheels indoors!” Will shouts.
“Just cleaning faster, Will! You should thank me!” Deacon high-fives Piper as he flies past.
Will goes in search of a rag, grumbling. “I’m gonna clean you off the wall when you crash.”
Bird walks in, coffee in hand, pauses just long enough to absorb the scene, then turns on her heel.
“Nope.”
Harriet drops her sandwich in dismay. “You don’t even want to know what Cane did to the—!”
[BOOM.]
The microwave gives a dramatic pop and a puff of purple smoke curls out of it.
Milo looks thrilled at the footage he’s just captured. Piper cheers and claps, Cane starts coughing, Will looks like he’s about to start crying. Harriet thinks she might.
“Breakfast and a show!” Piper giggles. She shoves another mouthful of cereal.
Cane waves his hand in a pointless attempt to clear the smoke. “Oh, wow. That reaction was... not ideal.”
“New title for my memoir: ‘Not Ideal: The Life and Crimes of Team Tech,” Milo says gleefully.
“If y’all don’t stop,” Will says, furiously scrubbing the same countertop from earlier. “I’m gonna have to deep clean this place with holy water.”
Deacon chose that moment to zoom back in on his skateboard, holding up a box like it was the most prestigious award.
“I brought Pop-Tarts!”
“And I brought regret,” Harriet sighs.
~~~
Five Minutes Later
The smoke has mostly cleared. Cane is trying to fan it away with a pizza box. Piper is still eating cereal. Milo’s started narrating like it’s a nature documentary. Will scrubs the sink like it personally offended him. Harriet's sandwich is still uneaten.
Jake walks in. One look is all it takes.
“…What did you do?”
“Technically, it was an experiment. But, like, a small one,” Cane says, trying his best not to cough.
“You’re just in time for the post-boom cleanup!” Piper grins.
Jake sighs and rubs his face. “I was sent to collect you clowns. Bird saw the smoke and said-and I quote-‘I’m not stepping foot in there unless someone’s dying, and even then I’ll think about it.’”
“Tell her it’s just our dignity that’s dead,” Will mutters, he’d moved on to sweeping far too aggressively. The floor had escaped the carnage and was entirely clean, but no one points that out.
“Speak for yourself. I’ve never been more alive,” Milo laughs.
Jake crosses his arms and does his best not to smile. Composure was key when dealing with children. “Let’s move. Common room. Five minutes ago.”
Deacon, who’d run to hide in the hallway, pokes his head out.
“I’ll bring the Pop-Tarts!”
~~~
The team gathers in the common room, crowding on and around the couch. Bird stands at the front, arms folded, radiating ‘this is why I have migraines’ energy. The room falls into a hush; part guilty silence, part anticipation.
She doesn’t speak at first. Just looks at them. One by one.
“Explain the smoke.”
Cane goes first. “Well, it was actually quite fascinating—”
“Short version.”
“He microwaved something that shouldn't exist,” Harriet offers.
“…Of course he did.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. Jake stands behind her, arms crossed, ex-military patience on full display.
“You know what’s worse than fire damage?”
No response.
“Knowing I can’t even trust you people to be unsupervised in a kitchen.”
“I was cleaning…”
Bird has to reel her patience in with a loose wire before nodding at him. “You get a gold star, Will.” She turns to face the rest of the guilty individuals. “But the rest of you? You’re on chore rotation. Indefinitely.”
“You wouldn’t!” Piper says playfully, clutching her pearls.
Bird skillfully chooses to ignore Piper, Milo, and Deacon’s exclamations of woah and continues. “Cane, no more experiments within fifteen feet of a food-prep surface. Milo, stop filming everything. Deacon, no wheels indoors. Piper, just... Piper.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll continue to exist against all odds.”
“And someone, for the love of everything, feed Harriet,” Bird says finally.
Harriet holds up her sandwich sadly. “It’s not safe anymore.”
“I need a nap.” She looks at Jake and waves her hand. “You want to do the honors?”
“Right. All of you. Kitchen duty rotation. Starts now. And I better not find jelly in anything but the fridge,” Jake says as Bird makes her quick exit.
