BrutalBx

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP: Timeskip, Monday Afternoon at 6 PM
FT: Sly James, Clay & Laura Costigan
Small FT: Primrose Lyon}

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The Afterlife.

It was a beautiful abomination.

A place for those who seek to shed their life and revel in the after night.

It was once Saint Paul’s Church, just beyond Lyon Park. It was a large, limestone building with innately gothic architecture. A breathtaking sight to some and to others, it was nothing short of a nightmare that stood resolutely overlooking a town whose sins it could not forgive.

When the young pastor James Stronbow-Winters took over as the serving Padre at St Paul’s, the town was both excited and intrigued. His history as a local rocker cast doubt on his ability to lead a congregation but his youth and enthusiasm left most with a level of excitement. Things went well for a short time. Mass had become popular, church donations had gone through the roof and the community seemed to be in a healing mode. Then it happened. Even to this day nobody knows the real reason why it happened or even how it happened. All that is really known about that night was that somehow, the rectory caught ablaze. The rumour had consistently been that James was drunk and started the fire, cursing God over the recent death of his father. Whatever the cause, the fire did not stay within the confines of that small attachment, it spread, wild and fast until soon the entire cathedral was ablaze. Seven people lost their lives. Four altar boys who had been there for choir practice, a caretaker and the parents of the illustrious Mayor Teddy Grimm, parishioners devoted to their lord. James fell. The darkness swallowed him and his own life burned away like a candle. Of course he left a legacy, another horror story of Edenridge. A boy named Charlie.

After James' death, the church sat vacant; a burned out husk of a bygone era. That was until Colm Lockheart, a local beloved businessman decided to purchase the building through eminent domain. With his near limitless funds. He began the conversion of a House of God into a different kind of house entirely. By 2010, St Paul’s had given way to The Afterlife. Not only was it a bar, it had become a nightclub, a lounge and a live music venue. It began to regularly host nights for every type of reveller, dancing nights, jazz nights, hardcore grunge, whatever it could do it did. Afterlife had evolved and was the best nighttime destination in New England.

Laura Costigan had gotten a job there pretty much out of high school. She has always been a bit of a free spirit and unlike some of her compatriots, her goal wasn’t to escape Edenridge or save the world, she just wanted to get to the next day. She started dancing, of course, in the low hanging cages when she was eighteen. Then she tended the bar and bussed tables until finally graduating to her current role as Hostess. Lamb was the premier Candy girl at Afterlife. She almost exclusively only worked the VIP room, taking care of the wealthiest of clients. She would be in there later for her actual shift but for now, she would get her bearings. She was meeting an absolute darling later and she wanted to be in a good mood.

Following a dainty woman, who called herself Primrose Lyon, a beautiful redhead with so much life ahead of her, Sylvester found himself caught in memories of his past. He hadn’t walked inside this place since, well, since it was a place of worship. He surveyed the area seeing how the revelry masked the tragedy that was St. Paul’s Church. Oh how things changed since the last time he’s been here.

There was Shannon’s daughter, with the youngest O’Brien girl, getting lost in their vices because that was better than coping with the reality of life. He wondered if Penelope ever tried coming here to forget her worries and live for the night. He knew the answer but he could imagine her hanging with Mei and trying something out of her comfort zone, simply enjoying the moment and being alive. Just how Shannon pulled him on adventures to get out of their comfort zone, together, all for the sake of having a good time. A Ling woman sure did know how to have a good time, that’s for sure.

The faces he remembered, from James to Henry and Jacqueline Grimm, all seemed to come clearly to his mind as he walked deeper into the stomach of the night club. There was a period when many started to believe the curse of Edenridge had been lifted or was on the path to. That was short lived, as most things were here, when a defining moment changed the lives of many. Changed the lives of someone he considered a friend. James.

Something Sly had learned throughout the years was that fires were the catalyst of a Decker man. The fire at St. Paul’s and the fire on Liberty. If it weren’t for the fire at St. Paul’s Church, perhaps Rhonda would still have James in her life, perhaps Charlie would’ve grown up with a father, and perhaps the town would’ve accepted the true founders of these lands. The Native Americans.

While Sly knew Charlie was already falling apart, for a long while since Allison died, the nights he would come home and catch Penelope silently crying herself to sleep, out of worry this night would be Charlie’s last, Sly firmly believed the fire on Liberty changed James’ son, for the worse. Edenridge Tobacco warehouse, now ablazed on Class of 2020’s junior prom night, forced the boy to face a mirror and accept everything he was becoming.

The Southie boys that were on site barely could answer any questions, it was the doctor’s son that painted him a scene and even without that knowledge, Sly felt it in his gut the following day when he saw Charlie and he tried to play catch up. Something wasn’t right about that boy and there were subtle signs that the Charlie he knew, that the Charlie his daughter loved, was long gone. Sly could tell Charlie hadn’t slept for days, his clothes were dirty, his neck had a pinch of soot on it, his eyes were endless voids, with no sense of human empathy, and the one thing that broke his heart, he was unreceptive to anything Sly was saying to him.

Sly was no longer his best friend’s father. No, Sly was a cop who failed him, just like how Sly failed the Gallows, his brothers-in-arms, and his family. Charlie made it clear that day he wanted nothing to do with the James family. At the time, Sly didn’t think he meant it. Penelope was his world. His everything. But after the shooting, he started to believe that it was true. Sly was no longer Rocky of the Southside Serpents, he was the man in blue that would one day kill a kid he helped raise. A boy he saw as a son. Charlie Decker.

“So what’s your vibe, Officer James?” The Red Hot candy girl asked. Her outfit sparkled and had a similar cut to the dress that Jessica Rabbit wore. “We don’t usually have the pleasure of serving men such as yourself, but your partner, he's one of our regulars.” She glanced over her shoulder to teasingly wink at Clay. Her red stained lips were in such an enticing, alluring, and bright smile, and the way her hips swayed would make any weak willed man grovel at her feet.

Clay chuckled. He was a regular at the Afterlife and had been since he was eighteen to party and twenty one to drink…legally. If he just wanted to have a quiet drink and taste some mighty fine beer, the Hole in the Wall was always his go to, plus Rhett offered the best discount. Afterlife was Clayton’s old cruising spot. It was the perfect blend of the chaos of a club to the sultry vibes of a speakeasy. He had taken numerous dates to the VIP where whatever hostess was on would treat them like diamonds. Luckily, he made sure to never come when Lamby was on shift.

“Pardon?” Sylvester looked away from the bar and dancefloor, only to put the brakes on his walk as the vixen stopped in her tracks, turned on her heel, and glanced up at him. She playfully batted her eyes, in intrigue and curiosity. How old was she anyway?

This was definitely not his scene.

Smirking at his reaction, Prim played with her locket to bring attention to her chest, “Music, honey. What kind of music do you like?”

Oh that vibe. “Yeah, sorry. Jazz, mostly,” Rocky wasn’t an easy one to manipulate. His light brown eyes never wavered from the gorgeous woman’s eyes. If there was one remarkable feat the older man displayed it was his loyalty to his wife and family. To this day, no advances worked on him and that’s because he didn’t care about what this girl was offering. He cared about the life he built and staying secure and stable. He cared about his wife on her meds and happy, not worrying about the grim side of things all the time, and he cared about his daughter living life again and seeing her own strength, outside of the boy they both used to know. He cared about being in a place where he could undoubtedly say he was at peace and he did all he could. He cared about a lot of things and infidelity was not one of them.

“Ooooh! We have a night for that! You should come back, but for fun next time.”

“I’ll think about it — hey is Miss Costigan ready for us?” Sly had no space for idle chatter seeing how the storm was just about to hit and the Chief wanted him and Clay to head home ASAP.

His impatience was rewarded with an eye roll as Primrose pointed with her thumb to the door next to her, “Take the stairs, it’ll lead you to the VIP section. She’s the first room to your right. Clay should know that whole area pretty well.”

“Thanks Primrose,” Clay bowed his head slightly to the redhead before moving beyond Sly and opening the door to the stairs. “Say hi to the girls for me.” He opened up the door and nodded for his Lieutenant to follow him. As the two men began to ascend, Clay looked back at Sky and shook his head. “We all have our vice boss, don’t judge me,” He chuckled.

A joke.

Humour.

It was easy to mask that horrible feeling he had in his chest with something to laugh at. Clay had spent the day interviewing his old friends about their shared dirty little secret. About their once and former leader, David. Rehashing the past and bringing back all the pain and suffering that the Elite had hoped to push off a cliff and never see again was not something that the young police officer enjoyed doing. Every question he asked a friend felt like a knife to his heart. He could only imagine how they felt about him being the one to ask those damning questions. And now? Now he had to interview his sister, his twin, the one person on this entire planet whom he shares his lifeblood. Lamb was the other half of his soul. Or at least, she was supposed to be.

Entering into the VIP area, Clay looked around before making his way to the first door on the right, Laura’s room. The only saving grace is that because of a conflict of interest, Sly would be leading the questioning. Small victories. Sighing, Clayton knocked on the door twice before opening it up slowly.

Lamb sat on the wrap around couch, her arms stretched out across its back. Her chestnut hair hung at her bare shoulders and lightly over onto her collarbones. She looked dynamite. Dressed in a classy little black dress which hugged every contour of her body and screamed elegant sex, there was a reason that Laura was the top girl at the Afterlife.

“Lamby.”

“Big brother.”

“Mind if we take a seat, Miss Costigan?” Sly politely asked as he surveyed the intimate room. “Your brother and I appreciate your quick response to our last minute request. This shouldn’t take too long. Scouts honor.” Going deeper into the den, the man with the bigger muscular stature decided to stand by the side wall, respecting the boundaries of the lady of the hour. Even if Clay was her twin, Sly wanted to establish the professional undertone of this interview. There were enough crimes going on where cops were in the wrong, abusing their power, and he did not want to be in that percentage. Whether it was an issue with race or sex, a white man should always understand the priviledges he has when he walks into a room.

Lamb motioned with her hand to one of the sides of the couch. “Please, feel free, Mr. James.” Sylvester James was a glorious chunk of man meat and a worthy soldier in the army of Edenridge fathers that the girls and guys of Eden would gladly call Daddy. She was playing it cool. Of course she was. In her line of work, appearance was everything and in a tense situation such as this one, the emptying of a grave, she couldn’t appear to be anything but calm even though inside she was holding back a storm just as bad as the one brewing outside. “You too, Clayton.” Laura loved her brother, she really did and even if they weren’t as connected as they could be, she was very much concerned about him. She was close to the Elite but she wasn’t in the Elite.

Clay was.

And there was something off about him at that moment. He looked tired. His skin was pale and the dark circles over his eyes were quite present. He had always wanted to be a cop, ever since they were little kids but looking at him now? It seemed like Clay’s dream job was killing him.

Clay took a seat on the opposite side of his younger sister and took out a notepad and pen. “We’ll be quick Lamb, ok? LT is going to take charge since I can’t with a conflict of interest.” He wasn’t a great lover of her job here but he did accept it. Lamb had always been her own woman, too much like their Mom and just a little bit too much Milligan in her. She was a free spirit swept up in a tornado and she wouldn’t have it any other way. “If at any point you need to tap out, just let me know.”

Sylvester didn’t like bringing up the past, no more than Vicky liked taking her meds and with Charlie’s journal out there somewhere, with only God knows who, Edenridge was restless. Taking a seat beside Clay to level the dynamic, to show she had just as much power in the interview as he did, Sly clasped his hands together and went onward, into the foreboding history of the Elite, “Let’s start here. What’s your relationship with the O’Hara twins, both David and Jamie? If I am to understand why someone would go out of their way to send David’s secret love letters to the whole town, I need to understand the connections he had, like you with him and the closest person to him. His sister.”

Lamb locked her fingers in front of her lap as she looked at the policemen staring at her. This was harder than she thought, trying to separate her big brother from the uniform he wore. She took a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts and began. “Well, I grew up with them. We were neighbours our entire lives. Jamie was my best friend up until she went off to school. We stayed close but not as close as we could’ve. As far as David, he was just always there, always a part of my life. I…can I say this? He was Clay’s best friend. Whenever I saw him he was with my brother or another Elite or Jamie.”

“You say whatever you're comfortable with, Miss Costigan. And like your brother said, if there ever comes a time you want to tap out you can. You are doing us a favor by giving us a moment of your day, and I understand how heavy this is. For the both of you,” Sly glanced over at Clay who was focused on the notepad and his sister. While Sly would still be considered young, he knew through the years that this town never lets you forget. No matter how much time came and went, something happened where you’re forced to reflect and look into a mirror. “I’ve learned a lot about David today so I’m going to… change things up.”

Crossing his arms, leaning back in his chair, Sly softened his eyes as he carefully watched Lamb and her subtle reactions. Sometimes being a cop sucked but he wanted her to feel safe around him. Deep down, he would always be Rocky before he was a cop. That part no matter how much he tried, tried to bury, would never change. He was a man of the people and at times, that made him do things that broke his heart, but everyone else would stay at peace. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of his town. “The coach put a lot of pressure on his children. Anyone could see that. As Jamies’ former best friend, how do you think that impacted her?”

“Jamie is…” Laura looked to her brother, who offered in return a soft and comforting gaze. “Sensitive.” To be a Foundling in this town, to have that big house on Scott Street, was born a blessing and a curse. Depending on the name you carried, the pressure was different. The worst family to be in was the O’Hara’s. This had nothing to do with the parents, John and Lizette loved their kids. But the expectation that came with that name. O’Hara for the lack of a better term, meant greatness. “She loved David more than anyone. They were twins. Soulmates.” The sting in her heart as she looked at her own sibling, she knew he felt it too. “Coach never understood Jamie, not for the lack of trying but he just couldn’t work out why she was the way she was, so all of his attention went on David and the team. Jamie, well she never felt forgotten about like a normal kid would. Instead, she just got worried that she couldn’t take the pressure off of her brother. David worked so hard to be as good as he was on that court but it was never enough because Fran and Clay and even that idiot Russ, everything was natural for them.” She reached forward and picked up the glass of water on the table. After bringing it to her mouth and taking a sip, Lamb returned her attention to the officer. “Jamie only ever wanted to help.”

Sly knew this feeling well, through his wife. Victoria Mooney was so young when her family got arrested. She wanted to ease the burden from her older sister, Samantha, and she wanted to prove to her younger brother, Dexter, that everything was going to be okay. In reality, Dexter was better at protecting both his older sisters combined. Even before the abuse, Vicky’s mom would tell Sly’s uncle that ‘something isn’t right about that one’. Something was off with the middle child of the Mooney family. She was unstable.

And yet, Sly decided to be her protector and carry her through life. Everything Vicky ever did was to protect her family. She wanted to help. Though Sly did wish she wasn’t so impulsive. It led to many messes he had to clean up. “Can you go deeper with her… sensitivity? Has she ever done something she thought would help her brother but it only made the situation worse?”

Clay put his hand on his sister's shoulder and squeezed lightly. “It’s ok, Lamby. Tell him everything you can. I’m here.”

Laura reached up and placed a hand atop Clayton’s for a brief second before moving her gaze back to Mr James. “There was one time, I think junior year? Jamie was home from her school and David was dating this girl from the Southside….I don’t recall her name and she had connections to the Serpents. This girl, well she and a brother that wasn’t particularly a great fan of her brother. I remember finding Jamie in her and David’s special place. She told him that she couldn’t believe somebody would even consider disliking her brother, so she went to this guy's house and ended up slashing his tires. Problem was the guy thought it was Davey and beat the shit out of him. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last.”

Clay was adding his own notes to Lamb’s story as he could vividly remember it himself. The Elite covered for Jamie and paid the big Southside cat off to stay away. The former basketball player had considered the theory of some sort of revenge when the letter first appeared but those people would have nothing to gain from dragging Duke’s name further through the mud. “Coach lost his shit. David was off the team for a month and Jamie was sent straight back to school.”

Mental instability. Her brother’s soulmate. A secret place that her and her brother only shared. The obvious questions stood out for Sly but as he looked at Clay, he saw himself every time his brothers got into stupid shit. His earlier days as a cop were not easy. When Rusty died, Reaper and Rooster just deep dived into serpent activity. This is before the gala that caused his old friend to leave town and become a ‘character’ of a man burying everything he once was under this professional facade.

There was part of Sly that wanted Clay to come to his own conclusions. In his opinion, this was more his case than Sly’s. Sly had his theory but he wanted to see what Clay did under this emotional stress and pressure. Would he still be standing after all this is said and done? Or would he quit? “Thank you, Miss Costigan. I think that’s enough on Jamie.” Sly took a moment to himself to process the information and find the question that wouldn’t make Lamb feel like she was being interrogated but also give him a chance to see Lamb’s emotional attachment to the worst incident of the Elite’s lives. “The day he died. What were your thoughts when you found out David O’Hara got so drunk that he accidentally drowned in the lake? Did you know what he was going through?”

“No,” Lamb responded quite emphatically. “By the time he died, I had already moved away from godforsaken Scott Street and was too busy trying to build my own life. Like I said, David was Clay’s friend. We texted now and again but that was it. When…everything came out, I was as surprised as everyone else. I don’t think I’d spoken to him for about a month before he died.”

“Hm,” Sly nodded at her answer and gave her a bright and warm smile. He had no more questions to ask. Like he said earlier, this interview was going to be short especially since the storm had already started. “That’s all I have for you, Miss Costigan, but I do want to say, off the record, of course,” Sly rested his right hand on his chin and absentmindedly rubbed it in thought, “I do know how you both are feeling.”

His attention went from the interviewee to his partner. The young man that looked like he hadn’t slept for days. The promising rookie cop who had so much ahead of him, so long as he kept strong. “This town doesn’t like when we forget about our ghosts. My daughter was in love with the kid I shot dead and now someone has his journal. My best friend was a ‘foundling’. The worst of them all. Carlisle. No one really knew and while I can’t say I understand, that shadow hung over him everyday until he died in my arms. This town will rip you apart, given the chance.”

Standing up, he looked at the Costigan twins and shook his head, giving them a piece of advice, “Don’t let it,” patting Clay’s shoulder, a sign that it was time to go, the veteran officer said one last thing, speaking to the air so both twins could take in his wise words, “You’re not as alone as you think. Keep those you care about close and never stop fighting. No matter what this town throws at you. Keep fighting.” As he went to the door, he wearily whispered to himself, “We need more fighters,” before waving at Lamb, thanking her for her time, and leaving the twins alone to have a moment to themselves.

Lamb looked at Clay and he back at her. They weren’t identical twins but they carried themselves in the exact same way and shared the same chocolate coloured eyes of their mother. Laura felt overcome at that moment. She took hold of her big brother's hand and sealed it between her own. “Clay, we both know that whatever comes out of this investigation of yours, isn’t going to be a happy ending for everyone. We also both know that you’re not gonna stop until you figure this out because that’s just who you are, my big brother the superhero. What I need to know is that you are going to be ok? That you’re going to be safe?”

Clay smiled at his twin. Sometimes, some days they shared that connection that they both desperately searched for. Sometimes and some days they were actually brother and sister. This was one of them. No doubt after this he wouldn’t hear from Lamb for another month and that was ok. He knew where she was and she knew where he was. If they needed each other, they’d be there.

The rookie cop got to his feet and brushed a strand of loose hair from Laura’s face. “It’s only a bit of rain, Lamby, I’ll be fine,” Clay made his way towards the door and opened it up. He paused for a brief second and ran his hand through his thick hair. “Make sure they wear condoms, Lamb, we don't need any more Costigan’s running around. I don’t need the competition for the best looking.” With that, he departed with his boss to go solve the mystery.

Laura leaned her head back against the couch and let out a great sigh. It was so Clay of him to make a joke. He knew that she was talking about the case but Clayton wouldn’t admit fear. He wouldn’t admit doubt. It wasn’t any false sense of bravado, it wasn’t any foolhardiness believe it or not. It was his justice. Whatever that may mean.

God she hoped he could weather the oncoming storm.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP: Monday, Mid Afternoon
FT: Sofia Belmonte, Ricky Osso,
Anthony "Oz" Osso, Sienna "Sissy” Osso,
Clarissa "Clari" Callahan, Robert "Bobby" Osso}

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The Osso house was never silent, always filled with people, business and parties. The children liked to think it was because their father hated silence and being alone. Realistically it was just because he didn’t have a choice but to put up with the cards he was dealt.

Vincent’s own father was naught but a humble watchmaker. He barely spoke English and he struggled to avoid the temptation of joining a Mafia family when he immigrated to New York City from Sicily but by some miracle he did indeed do it. Vincent was the first Osso born on American soil. He was a big kid, physically imposing and with a face only his mother could love. Yet Vin wasn’t just muscle, he had brains and a penchant for numbers. When he graduated high school, he immediately got a job working for an insurance company. Fast forward to the present day, Vincent now owned that company and was the premier insurance broker in New England.

Pretty Ricky Osso crept through the house as silently as possible which in itself was difficult when literally all of his siblings were in and around the place on this particular day. Clari was in the garden playing with her kids, he could hear Oz, who moved like he was three sizes bigger than he actually was, moving towards their fathers office because he likely had just finished some deal that their patriarch had to sign to seal and deliver. Bobby was lying down on the couch trying to have a nap, brave man and Sienna, well he didn’t know where she was but she was around, she was a ninja.

The Osso siblings were both nothing and everything like each other. Robert was the oldest, a quiet and reserved man with such anger inside of him. He had spent years over in Iraq and still carries those days on his person line a scarf or a noose. He ran his own private security firm. Clarissa taught eighth grade; she was two years younger than Bobby and was the most like their father, at least emotionally. She was level headed and empathetic and shared his love of numbers. She married Andrew Callahan and has two beautiful kids. Sienna was an interesting creature. She also worked for her dad but it was mostly a means to an end. She didn’t show herself a lot, physically or emotionally. There had been an incident in childhood that detached her from the rest of the world. It was really sad. Though she had recently started dating a girl, Astrid, Ricky worried now long it would last. Anthony, where to even start. He was a vibe man. He spent most of his waking hours thrashing his guitar or playing DnD, that’s when he wasn’t brokering deals for his father or hanging out with his wife whom he married the day after their high school graduation. Yeah, the Ossos were an interesting family.

Then of course there was Richard, the youngest, the baby. Ricky was born with cleidocranial dysplasia which in its simplest form meant that his bones were fucked when he was born. He was lucky in that he wasn’t massively affected by it beyond needing braces for a good chunk of his life so far and that he was quite malleable. Oz and his friend Clay always had a fun time shoving Ricky into air vents. It was a thing. He struggled to make his own friends save one, whom he was also madly in love with; Sofia Belmonte-Morelli. He didn’t understand why she liked him or why she hung around with him but by God she did and he wasn’t going to question it. Just like he didn’t question the fact she turned up at his doorstep the other night when she was supposed to be in New York with her Dad and was now camped out in his bedroom.

Ricky’s basement bedroom was a den of geekdom. His walls were adorned with a wide range of posters ranging from the latest Marvel release to the incredibly sexy poster of the Hex Girls (God he loved the Hex Girls, Rawr) and every 80s movie ever. Best decade, don’t even @ him. Need more stuff here.

Laying on Ricky’s customized DnD rug, her crop top unintentionally too high for others comfort, showing her thin, soft stomach and a little underboob, Sofi stared at the ceiling, straight at Ricky’s freakishly large poster of Faye Valentine. What a nerd. She wore ripped jean shorts and a black and white plaid long sleeve shirt along with that crop top. It was clear Cat’s eldest daughter had no qualms showing off her body and it showed as she laid on the ground looking aimlessly at the anime woman’s face. Body. Butt. Boob.

Six hours since she last ate, a PB&J sandwich to be exact. She was getting hungry again. Two nights since she'd been here, at Ricky’s, camping in his bedroom. It really didn’t take much for her dad to let her do what she wanted. He’d rather drop her off somewhere and say ‘don’t tell your mother’ than actually convince her to go to New York with him. Four days since she last smoked. The night when her mom and dad had a good ol’ sit down to divulge information Sofi already expected in the most impersonal way because Belmontes sucked when it came to emotions. Shortly after, Sofi was quick to get some pizza and go to the makeshift skatepark at Lyon’s. And last but not least, a millisecond since she thought about her mother crying alone in her bedroom.

With her sound cancelling headphones on, listening to American Pie by Don McLean, Sofi’s expression was dull and distant, as she blocked out the past few months of her parents fighting and her siblings going through their ups and downs of the impending doom called ‘divorce’. She promised them when they came back they’d watched Stand By Me. While that film was sad as fuck, that was a movie she and her siblings found comfort in. Nostalgic. Something their mother introduced to them, way back when, when she wasn’t drowning.

Speaking of her mother, if Cat knew that she yeeted from her father’s car just so she didn’t have to leave Edenridge, her mother would flip the fuck out. But, it was Sofi’s philosophy to ask for forgiveness, not permission. It was the best way to live, especially because she knew deep down, her mother trusted her. Sure, Sofi frequented the southside more than she probably should’ve and meddled in other people’s affairs because she liked knowing things, but that didn’t change she knew how to get herself out of trouble. She knew how to take care of herself. She was a goddamn Belmonte! She had papa Taz on her side.

More importantly though, she wasn’t failing. Not like Dani. Her grades were good. She kept to herself. Didn’t get into fights. No, all she did was hang with the burners, punks, and skater kids. Sure, she gave up on soccer when Charlie shot her but ‘ey, you win some, you lose some. She was young. She didn’t need to have it all figured out. She had her whole life ahead of her. The only thing that would stop that is if she died! Which was likely in this town, but doesn’t that just make life more exciting? The more aware of your mortality that you are, the more intense every other aspect in your life becomes. That’s what she thought, at least, even if the weed and her innate numbness since that day on the field caused her to be unamused by most things. Passionless.

Maybe that’s why she got with the skaters. Learning how to board gave her a sense of freedom in being bold without putting on a front on a field, kicking a ball. She didn’t have to pretend when she was with those that most people in her year called delinquents. She could be herself. Well to a degree. Sofia still wasn’t openly vulnerable with those kids and maybe that’s why she was here with Ricky, her childhood friend, listening to music and hiding out. Only he really got to see sides in her she wasn’t comfortable with showing anyone else. She didn’t know why but with Ricky, things just felt natural. He was a hearth that kept her warm when everywhere else was downpouring and cold. “We were singing, bye-bye Miss American Pie, drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry…” The girl with a form like a supermodel absentmindedly sang, all the while looking up in a daze.

Opening the door to the basement, Ricky stopped in his tracks and dropped his brown paper bag of snacks onto the floor when his eyes gazed upon the lithe, barely covered form of his childhood friend. Sofia made a room fall silent when she walked in and caused people to freeze in awe, Ricky included. He had always been adamant whenever asked that the beautiful Italian was not his girlfriend. Why he denied this was beyond any reason. What self respecting sixteen year old boy worth any salt would deny that the most sought after, most beautiful and most desired girl in his class was not his girlfriend? Ricky Osso apparently.

“Oh shitsticks!”

He looked down at the collapsed bag of goodies and began to hurriedly pick them up off the floor whilst still catching grief glimpses of Sofi’s perfect skin. Pushing everything back down onto the bag, he listened to her sing before sitting down on the bed that stood next to her. He loved her voice. With his brace filled little grin he placed the bag down next to her.

“Il cibo è qui.”

“Bitchin’.” Sofia pushed herself up and at the same, shifted her headphones to her neck. Retrieving the bag, she peeked into it and smiled when she saw a Dolly’s burger wrapped in wax food paper, a ball of foil which she assumed was where her fries were, and an assortment of snacks she liked from the corner store, like beef jerky, nerds, sno balls, ring pops, and hershey kisses.

For someone as dainty as Sofia, she could eat. She was quick to go for the burger, gingerly unwrapping it before taking a deep bite into it. She gave a sigh of pleasure. So good. Dolly’s wasn’t only good for their breakfast, no, their burgers were charred goodness and they had their own special sauce. Yum. She closed her eyes savouring the flavour, as if she hadn’t eaten in days (it had only been hours since the last time Ricky fed her). When she swallowed she looked up at Ricky, her alluring gaze meeting his eyes. Her eyelashes had such tiny flutters, showing that beneath that tough exterior was a soft and gentle heart, an enchanting soul. “What we doing tonight, bud?” She airly asked before going in on the good burger once more.

Was it weird he could watch her eat?

It was weird.

Pretty Ricky was weird.

He was ok with it.

Looking at Sofi as he placed his chin in his hands and rested his elbow on his lap. “Well that big storm is coming in fast so people are expecting the power to go out at some point,” He began. “So I hooked up a spare power unit to the basement meaning we can still stream down here.” The young Osso was very technically gifted and had a knack for building things, especially electronics. There was never any question that Ricky was a bit of a dork. He lived his truth, he didn’t care who knew about it. He had two people to thank for that. He had Oz, his big brother, who was so unashamedly him that it was inspiring. And there was Oz’s friend Clayton. Ricky loved Clay. He was so cool, so effortlessly charming but he was an absolute dingus. He was the rare instance of a Foundling not caring about their status. He hung around with the weirdos and the freaks and was proud to do so. Clay was awesome.

“So I’m thinking of either The Toxic Avenger or Police Academy for our movie choice. We could do a speedrun of Crash Bandicoot and then maybe, if you wanted, if the storm gets real bad we can go out in it? Try and catch lightning in a bottle,” He giggled a little as he joked with her. He had such a sweet little laugh. “Whatever you want really.”

Chewing slowly, Sofi listened to her friend list the things they could do and smiled. She remembered way back when her and her siblings were playing Ms. Pac-Man on their uncle’s Nintendo 64. They were struggling on one of the levels and their mom came to check up on them. It was way past their bedtime. Instead of telling them to turn off the game and go to sleep, Cat joined them and beat the level. She proceeded to stay up all night with her kids playing video games. It’s been so long since her mother did something like that. She missed her. She missed her mom. Not right now, of course! Because her mom would kill her for hiding out in the Osso estate, but just how she used to hang and enjoy being a kid with them. “That all sounds great, Rick,” Sofi softly responded before pensively finishing her burger.

Some days it was harder to keep the bad out. There was a lot of bad happening in the Belmonte family and maybe that’s why she so desperately needed to be in the presence of someone who distracted her. Her friend.

“You know, Sofi…” Ricky began. “We haven’t really talked about what’s going on with your family. Like I know, it’s not something that you want to talk about necessarily but it might help.” Immediately the curly haired boy raised his hands in defensive mode. “No pressure or anything just know that….that…” The youngest Osso paused as his eyes moved from his stunning friend to his old basement door. His glare widened as he realised that the door was ajar. “Oh shitsticks.” He had been far too distracted upon entry when he saw his supermodel best friend half naked and trying to grab all the falling goodies that he neglected to close it.

“Oh fuck.”

Like John Wick in slow motion, Ricky dove towards the door, sliding across his DWS bedsheets towards the timber wood. Before he could reach it, unfortunately, it swung open hard and in stepped his older brother, Oz.

“Well well,” Ozzy grinned from ear to ear as he looked upon the scene of his baby brother with a hot girl in his room. Of course as an older brother it was his duty to rip Pretty Ricky a new one. “Hi Sofi.” The heavy metal man playfully waved at the young Belmonte as he spoke in a lighter, teasing tone. He shifted his attention to his brother and placed his hands on his hips. “Richard, do you know how much trouble you’re in young man!” He did his best impression of his father. “But no seriously, you two need to get the fuck outta dodge. Don’t ask me how big Bobby knows you’re here. You gotta run muchachos.”

Letting out a loud belch, Sofia chuckled, “‘Cuse me,” before grabbing her bag of goodies and standing up. Damn. Things were fun while they lasted. Time to pay the piper. Her mom was going to ground her until school started, likely. Damn. This is what she gets for being a rebel without a cause.

It didn’t take long before the door opened again but this time the steps were barely audible. Coming from behind Oz, Sissy lifted a second bag of goodies, “Your girlfriend told me she was dying, so I went to the store.” Sienna's blank gaze went from her little brother to the most beautiful girl in his year, “How you did it, I don’t know.”

As an automatic response the two children in the room quickly countered:

“I’m not his girlfriend.” “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Ozzy turned to look at his older sister and then back at the quickening redder face of Ricky. “Come on, Sienna you know why. We Ossos got these raw animalistic sexual magnetism. I mean, how else do you explain this?” He pointed to the kids and then to his own face. “My hot wife. Your crazy hot French girlfriend and Clari’s husband who, if I were gay I would totally let rail me? It’s a gift we have.”

Rick collapsed onto the bed backwards, placing his head in his hands in sheer embarrassment but only for a moment before springing up to his feet and picking up Sofi’s bags. “We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to go home but we do have to go now before…”

“Riiiiiickyyyy!” Clari, the second eldest of the crew, came down holding a white laundry basket, “Ma is hanging out with the babies so I thought I’d do some laundry. Oh! I also got you something since you like that cowboy… bepop? Show. Yes. You needed new undies anyways, so look at these! Cute horses and lassos!” Clari reached the bottom of the stairs and with her free hand she held brand spankin’ new cowboy boxers. A set of four! Only for her smiley face to turn into shock immediately when she saw the crowd, “W-what’s going on here? Does Bobby know?” Scurrying, Clari put the basket down and placed the new boxers on top of Ricky’s dresser before crossing her arms, “Please tell me Cat knows.”

Frozen, Ricky looked at Sofia, who as usual was impossible to read. The embarrassment. Not only was Clari buying him underwear but she still got the wrong ones! “I…err…well the funny thing about that Clarissa is….” Hanging his head in defeat. This was one battle royale he wasn’t going to win. “No she doesn’t know. Please, Sofi just needs some space. Things aren’t really good right now, she has nowhere else to…go.” There it was. The booming, thunderous footsteps. All four Osso children were stiff as nails as the hulking figure descended down the basement stairs. It was like one of the 80’s horror movies that Ricky and Sofia loved so much. The survivors were held up in the basement as the killer stalked them, ready to rip out their guts and turn them into neck ties.

From behind Sissy, the large looming figure stood silent. Bobby was of average height but his body was built compactly. He was thick and muscular and was currently in a plain black t-shirt that really showed off that he could probably kill someone with only one hand. His pale blue eyes moved around the room between his four younger siblings and their unannounced guest. “Sofia,” He bowed his head in welcoming. “It’s nice to see you. I was under the impression you were in New York.”

Ricky took a very small step forward, his siblings eyes screaming at him to not do it. “Well Robert…”

Bobby raised a single finger and Ricky slunk backwards. “I’m sorry things aren’t great with your family right now, I really am but you need to go home. Your mother will be mad but more relieved you’re ok. Ricky, you take her home. Now. And make sure you apologise to Caterina. You too, Sofia. Am I making myself clear?”

Bobby was a kink if Sofi ever did see one. A lot of girls in her year would be into that commander vibe, for sure. “Yes, sir,” The Belmonte girl obediently responded, never one to start shit while being a guest, unwelcome or not, in their house. As rebellious as Sofi is, she still respected her elders, and she especially respected the Osso family who her grandpa was extremely tight with. Another reason why this was the best house to hide at. Her mom loved the Ossos, they were practically family.

Sissy was the only Osso that was unfazed by the hulking presence of Bobby. She glanced at her siblings and could see their body language and how much it spoke volumes. Clari, with her crossed arms, hugging herself and fidgeting with her shirt. Oz’s hands were at his side, but his fingers moved, subtly but a lot. Ricky was sweating like a sinner in church, all the heat in his body rushed to his face. Her deep brown eyes fell on Sofia, who reminded her a lot of how she used to be. Before the accident. Someone who hid everything behind a mask. She could only hope that Sofi never had to experience her mask becoming real and all she knew.

Approaching Ricky’s ‘friend’, Sissy lifted her hand with the bag of goodies, chips and other things Sofi requested, “Remember what we talked about and you should be okay. Promise.” While Sissy couldn’t feel like the rest of her siblings, she saw and read a person like a book and right now, Sofi might look okay but she certainly wasn’t. At the end of the day, the biggest thing she needed right now was her mother. Sofia needed to be honest with her.

When Sofi nodded and took the bag, Sissy went to her little brother and ruffled his hair, “Next time, you idiots should just ask.”

“Do you want me to take them, Bobby?” Clari asked, wondering if her presence would soften the blow for Sofia, seeing how Cat adored Clari like a little sister.

“No,” Bobby looked towards his sister. “Ricky’s mess. Ricky clears it up. Now get out of here and make sure you’re both home before this storm hits.” The eldest Osso turned and began to make his way back up the stairs.

Oz sighed in relief and a big smile crossed his face as he could finally breathe. “Honestly, do you think he was born like that or did Mom and Dad offer him up to science as a baby?”

“I heard that.”

Ricky made his way over to Sofia and gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, guess we better make a move.”

“No you’re fine,” Sofie comforted, grabbing her other bag of goodies, accepting the Osso offerings of snacks (seeing how her mother limited her junk intake, for a good reason too). Looking at Ricky’s older siblings, minus the patriarch who was already on his next mission, Sofi apologized, “Sorry for coming unannounced. I just… don’t like my dad right now. Thanks for sorta hosting me? Or well, thank you for just dealing with my bullshit. Don’t be too hard on Ricky — this one is all on me.”

Frowning at the politeness of Cat’s daughter, Clari’s motherly instincts went off. Quickly, she pulled the girl into a tender hug. “That’s for you,” tightening her embrace, letting it linger, the eighth grade teacher whispered, “And that’s for your mother. Please let us know if you need anything.”

“With reason, of course. Like no sneaky shit,” Sissy added, watching Clari release the young girl who had melted in the older woman’s arms. Belmontes weren’t usually huggers but if you were considered family, like the Ossos were, hugging was something that came naturally. At least with everyone that wasn’t Taz. Taz just sucked at intimacy.

“All I’m saying is that jumping out of a moving car to run off with my little brother, it’s pretty fucking metal,” Oz gave Sofi a fist bump to the shoulder. As he turned to leave, the rocker nearly was knocked over by the rampaging dog that had just charged in and jumped onto Ricky’s bed. “Oh and take this fucking dog out, save Mom a job so she doesn’t get caught in the weather. Catch you on the flip side my little nuggets.” Doing his best Fonzy impersonation, Oz ascended the stairs. He was going to be late back to work now for sure.

Ricky stroked the chunky Beagle that the kids had bought for their mother last Christmas and then looked back at Sofi. “Guess our party has gone up by one? Isn’t that right Nduja? Who's a good girl? Who's the bestest girl?”

“Don’t forget your umbrella!” Clari exclaimed, almost frantic to find it for him. Unable to rush around the room to search for it, Clari was immediately noped and grabbed by Sissy, who proceeded to pull the only mother of the Osso Five upstairs. “Wait, I just want to make sure—”

“—They’ll be fine. Six years of you being a mother and it gets worse. Where are the little rascals anyways?” The voices of Ricky’s older sisters grew more and more distant by the second before once again Sofia and Ricky were left alone.

Swaying the bags in both her hands, Sofi’s headset faintly playing Faithfully by her favorite band, Journey, she glanced over at her friend, the embarrassment finally taking surface on her face with them being left alone now, “Guess we should skedaddle…” She softly offered. Pouting, she glanced at her converse shoes and mumbled at the boy getting dog kisses, “Sorry, Ricky.”

“It’s ok,” Ricky scratched the top of the dogs head with one hand whilst placing his other softly onto Sofi’s arm. “What are friends for?” he let out that soft childlike giggle of his again. He moved away from the pooch and the girl of his dreams to grab her clothing bag. “Can’t forget this!” He slung it over his shoulder and then picked up the dog's lead. His smiling face soon faded away as the realisation set in that Sofi was leaving him. Not forever of course but having her in his room with him, just the two of them away from the world for a change…well it was nice. Perfect even. “Let’s get outta here.”

Dread washed over Sofia Belmonte (screw Morelli, once the divorce was finalized she was changing her name). The nerves turned in her stomach and went straight to her chest and throat.

Her mom was going to kill her.

Absolutely murder her.

“Yeah, sure,” she vocalized through all the anxiety.

Goodbye, Ricky.

This was the end.

Edenridge

TIMESTAMP: Monday Afternoon
TRIGGER WARNING: LIAM POST

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Sleep is for the weak.

April McMahon never really understood what her father meant by that statement. Not, at least until now.

When she was a little girl, April’s father enjoyed regaling his daughter with stories of his ancestors. In a town with such rich history and lore as Edenridge, it became apparent that every clan that was directly from the area held a story or two within their family tree. The McMahons were not Founders and as such never fell into the same bracket with the likes of the O’Briens and O’Haras, they were never Foundlings. The McMahons were amongst the second wave of families arriving in the upstart town. They were men of the land, a family that prided itself on knowing what to do with their hands and building the very roads that still sit upon Eden today. Tough men, real men. Her father tried to continue this tradition, a Carpenter by trade. He would build furniture in his little shop on Chestnut Street on the Southside, sometimes he would even sleep there with the little cot he had built for himself in the back room. April hadn’t been back there since her father died, not until today.

McMahon Woodwork sat dilapidated on the corner of Chestnut. Untouched by a decent hand in a long time, she has never really gotten round to either fixing the place up or selling it. Though April was ok now, the last twenty or so years of her life had been naught but a mess. Everything was fine in high school, she was blonde, pretty, popular, not bad for a Southside rat. Yet there was always something, some promos to overcome. The pinnacle of shock was when her father died because that sent April into a spiral and her bipolar disorder into overdrive. She crashed out, stuck at Dolly’s in the day time and walking the streets at night. Big Rey offered her a lifeline but she wouldn’t take it. She was a McMahon. They built the world with their own two hands, not handouts. That didn’t stop her from entertaining one of Big Rey’s guests, a handsome New Yorker called Ivan.

Here was a real man, like the ones her father always talked about in his stories. Ivan was tall, well dressed but with calloused hands. He had worked for what he had. Then there were his eyes. Those piercing, breathtaking, heart stopping pools of icy water blue that sent chills down her spine and a lightning bolt into her heart. A beautiful monster. Ivan did not stay in Edenridge long but every time he was in town he paid April a visit. On one such occasion he left her with a very unexpected gift, one she didn’t know she even had until her life became a nightmare.

Brendan Thomas O’Brien, a different kind of monster to Ivan. When he solicited April’s services she didn’t think it was anything different than any other John. That was until after she had given the ride of his pathetic life, he drugged her and he kept drugging her. Bound to a radiator for what felt like an eternity, April had lost all sense of time and of space. She lost count of the amount of times that BT injected her with God only knows what and raped her. By the time that Sylvester James and Mason Hyde broke down the door and shot the Foundling to death, she had not only given up hope, she had given up life and was ready for the warm embrace of death.

It was whilst she was recovering in the hospital that April was told she was pregnant and had been for over a month. Based on the timescale, it meant that the baby thankfully wasn’t BT’s. It did mean however that the child was Ivan’s. She reached out to Big Rey so he could tell him. To say Ivan wanted nothing to do with a bastard child with a twenty year old hooker was an understatement. Mason, bless him, came to visit her every day at the hospital and as impossible as it felt, she found herself falling in love with the roguish police officer. He even decided to claim the child she carried as his. He helped April clean herself up and get herself a job as an estate agent. By the time the child was born, the couple were living comfortably in Westwood.

The day her baby was born, a lightning storm was tearing through Boston. It was violent and unpredictable. Power lines were falling down, roofs collapsing and major flooding was pushing the lake to the brink. Then in a brief moment of calm, with Mason by her side, April gave birth to a beautiful baby boy with a little tuft of red hair and the same blue eyes that Ivan had; Cameron, she called him. This moment of calm did not last as the rumours started almost immediately that Cam was Brendan’s and not Mason’s. This was heartbreaking. The gossip hounds of this fucking town were dragging their names through the mud, spitting on them. Cameron was a child! How could they be so cruel?

Life just fell apart from there. It had been maybe a year before police began sniffing around them, insistent that Mason was dirty. He was just trying to provide! Eden was Eden and nobody was entirely clean. It didn’t stop them from putting him away, which was a death sentence. Locking a cop up? Madness. When the news came that Mason had been stabbed and was dead, April left Cameron at Rhonda Decker’s house, found her way to the Edge of Sin and got so fucked up she blacked out for days. This cycle repeated for years until she found her path in God, sadly, it was too late for Cameron.

By the time April had made any sense of her life, Cameron was already a teenager. For years she had been told that something was wrong with him, that he needed help. Of course she ignored it. It was just Eden trying to drag her and her family again. The first time that April truly began to believe that something was not right about her son was when he returned home from a boy's birthday party covered in blood. Cameron had beaten the boy with a table lamp because he didn’t get the last bit of cake. When she looked into her son’s beautiful blue eyes, that moment changed everything. That’s when she realised he was a monster just like his father. A beautiful monster.

Now she found herself outside her fathers old shop because she knew inside lurked the beast that she had birthed. Since he had been locked away after that long bad night, April had dreamed of the day she saw her son again. It caused her the same amount of pain as dreams of BT and Mason did. Like she said, she now understood why sleep was for the weak. Because the weak suffer in their dreams. Like she did. The last time she had seen Cameron was as she plummeted down her stairs after being thrown down them by her baby boy. She wasn’t really sure what to expect when she opened that door other than some kind of pain. She was used to that now. The key she kept still unlocked the door and once she was inside, it became quite apparent that somebody had been living here.

“Cameron?!”

She could hear his footsteps. They were quiet but building as they approached. The air was quiet, like silent death. The room was littered with her fathers unfinished projects, takeaway boxes and beer cans. How was he living like this? He could’ve come home. God forgives us our trespasses. She twirled the crucifix on her necklace as her blue eyes watched the door behind the counter. She knew his rhythm, how he walked. He carried himself just like his father. April’s blue eyes widened on a mixture of surprise and longing as her little boy emerged from the back room. He was tall, broad and looked exactly like she remembered him.

“Hi baby.”

Hyde tilted his head as he gazed upon the tired face of his mother, if he could even call her that. Whatever she was going to say, he had heard it all before. Every time he came home and she was face down on the couch after taking too much brown, it was always the same; God Forgives. Every time someone called them worse than shit; God Forgives. God would forgive him for what he did to Aleyda, deliver him from all his uncountable trespasses. God did not forgive. God punished.

“Mom, you really shouldn’t be here,” His eyes fell upon the wooden chair leg that sat behind the counter. It would take nothing for him to reach for it. He could be over the counter and beating her with it in seconds. Who would miss her? Really? April McMahon was the dirt at the bottom of a Northsider boot. “Did the police not tell you to stay away?”

“You look tired, Cammy. Have you not been sleeping?”

Was she for real? She was madder than he was. Hyde was perceptive though. He looked upon his mother, watching her movements and facial expressions for a tic, a jolt, anything he could read. She was sweating. She didn’t have bags under her eyes but instead little red marks, similar to freckles but connected by visible red veins, burst blood vessels. She had been vomiting very recently. She was dressed well, well enough for her anyway. She tried to make an effort to impress him, to prove she wasn’t the mess he had always known her to be. “You’re off your medication aren’t you? There’s no other way you would step foot here.”

Hyde began to drum his fingers together. 1. 2. 3. 4. 4. 3. 2. 1. How dare she? How dare she come to his place, messed up? She was supposed to be his so-called mother but she had to be this version of herself to even get the courage to see him. It was an absolute atrocity. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” He walked around to the other side of the counter; Hyde towered over his mother by at least two feet.

There was still a metre or so between them. April wanted to close that gap. She wanted to hug her boy and apologise for everything that she had done and everything that they suffered through. “Cammy, please. I want us to forget about what happened. I want to move forward, me you, Rafael…” She reached out. Her hand rested on her son's face as she stepped forward. “We can be like we were supposed to be.”

A white hot flash hit Hyde like a sudden downpour of rain. He lunged forward and grabbed April by the side of her head and forced her down to her knees. He was so strong. She gripped a tight hold onto his wrists but was unable to move him. “You….” he growled, spit flying from between his teeth. “…keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth.” His voice was monstrous, commanding and every word dropped with venom. “You stay away from him. You will not make him a monster like you made me. You even try and I will make sure you regret the day you opened your fucking legs.” He threw her down to the floor hard and turned away. “Go now, Mom, before I lose my temper.”

April’s eyes watered. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have surprised him. Cameron was a sensitive boy. He didn’t like to not know things. He could control himself when he knew things. She dragged herself up to her feet using a nearby table and once more looked upon her son. “I hope you're taking care of your siblings. Maybe one day we’ll have a family barbecue, that would be nice.” She wanted to reach out again but pulled back her hand with her other one. It wasn’t the time. April shuffled towards the exit of her father’s shop and briefly looked back towards her baby boy as he stood with his back turned, stewing in his own rage and in that moment she knew the awful mistake she had made.

He was going to hurt someone tonight.

“I love you Cammy.”

Edenridge

<sub>Before Heartbreakers Collab:
Once a Clover, Always a Clover

TIMESTAMP: Early Monday Morning
FT. Antoine "Beau" Beauregard & Lydia Anderson</sub>

____________________________________________________________________

The early morning rush had subsided and Rochambeau was now empty. Both Adam and Poppy were off for the day so Beau would be working solo. Not that the old dog minded it though, or usually meant he could catch up on his reading, enjoy copious amounts of the perfect blend of Java and think about all the old cases that he never solved or how much he missed his kids.

Marcel and Genevieve were both grown now, living their lives, doing their thing and occasionally calling their father to check in. Marcel was in the Navy and spent all of his time away and even when he was home it wasn’t in Edenridge, it was New Orleans. There had always been some content in between father and son. They had a loving relationship but there was definitely a sword hanging over their heads, a sword named abandonment. Beau, before moving to Eden to teach, was of course a Homicide detective, which meant that he would spend most of his hours and days walking the violent streets of New Orleans, trying to solve cases and make the city a safer place. It also meant that he was never home and for someone like Beau and he would hate to admit it, more often than not the case always came first. And though they had talked about it since, it was definitely still a tender point between father and son.

Genevieve was slightly younger than Marcel and in some ways she understood her fathers dedication to his craft a lot more. She adapted very quickly to seeing her father at breakfast and then getting two phone calls from him a day, nothing more and nothing less. Then there were those sweetest of occasions when he was home to tuck her in and read her a story. It was those stories that inspired her to pursue her career on Broadway, to sing those stories across the world and up to the heavens. Perhaps her father would finally hear her?

Beau held no illusions about fatherhood and his role in his own kids' childhood. He was the driving force, the thing that shaped them into the people that they are today, their strengths, their faults, their successes and their failures. He never did enough or at least he felt like he didn’t. Perhaps that was the reason he did what he did for the kids of Edenridge? The little lost trio and their phantom fourth. He loved those kids so dearly, they reminded him of his own rough upbringing, of the hardships and the horror of the street. Antoine found solace in books much like Charlie Decker once did. It was a damn shame that the words in them couldn’t save that young boy like they saved him.

An old vinyl record player sat on the bookshelf at Rochambeau, an anniversary gift from Colleen and something his customers seemed to enjoy quite a bit. Spinning on it at that moment was the velvet voice of one Sam Cooke, His good lady me favourite. Colleen was gone for the week, visiting Genevieve in New York, so Beau needed to be reminded of her every chance he got because goddamn he loved that woman and he missed her like crazy. Sitting in his chair by the register, glasses hanging down his nose as he read Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, he was alerted to the ringing sound of the bell that hung above the front door. Beau raised his head and smiled that big toothie smile he was famous for.

“Mon petite, welcome!”

Soldiers were not only those that got sent overseas to battle. Not only those men and women in uniform, preparing for war and earning titles and badges for their chivalry. Not only those in blue, at the homefront, risking their lives everyday in the streets. Some soldiers sat in offices, in classrooms, in hospitals…marching on, pursuing honourable pursuits that didn't require bloodshed but did require mental fortitude and incredible strength. Lydia Anderson wouldn’t consider herself a soldier but to all those cases, all those children that needed saving, they would consider her their hero. A soldier.

Subconsciously, she placed her hand on her heart and greeted Beau with a nod. With a subtle smile, Lyds strolled to the counter and leaned on it. Interlocking her fingers, she met her gaze with the older man’s and asked, “Mornin’ Mr. Beau, how’s things for you this fantastic Monday morning?” Her voice was pleasant, in a motherly way, but also very controlled in a serious manner. Harper always thought she had a stick up her ass but that’s just how she came across. No bullshit. Sharp and witty. Occasionally, the judgemental bitch.

It was early here at Cafe Rochambeau.

More often than not Lydia was one of Beau’s first customers. At this point of the day, she had already visited her dad, Nay, and her baby sis, Lolly. Routinely, she would bring her family’s mail and newspaper inside. She would tell Nay good things, only good things that had been happening in Edenridge (even if it was pulling out of thin air). She made sure her father didn’t oversleep since he was the only veterinarian in town (high demand) and for some reason that old man could sleep through anything. Luke Anderson had to support his mentally crippled family somehow. She’d visit Lolly, give her something she requested, usually comics — today’s delivery was the new Langley, the first volume of Dread — and tell her she loved her. Before she left the house, she overlooked her family’s accounts to make sure they hadn’t, especially her mother, spent above their means. Then and only then she would leave and go to the Cafe before work.

Everyday she did this.

Although today was a special kind of day. A little outside her usual routine. She had adjusted her schedule where she only had two appointments. One at 8:30 AM and one at 10 AM. She scheduled a vacation day for tomorrow, something she rarely does since work was the one thing that kept her afloat. She did all this so she could be with the people she loved. The ones that made her taxing job possible because without them, she would be haunted by all the ghosts of her past and her fear of failure during her present.

Screw her future. That was a wish that would never happen for her. Lydia gave up on the family dream years ago because she didn’t think she’d be a good mother. It was one thing being a child’s psychologist, it was another thing giving birth to a little you, hoping they don’t grow up to be some piece of shit or have irreparable damage because of you. She never did tell Bobby about her abortion but if he knew, he wouldn’t have served and she couldn’t let him do that.

Lately, Lydia has been so busy. She couldn’t be there as much as she’d prefer for her best friends, the Heartbreakers. Right now, the one that was drowning the most was Cat. Every year one of them found themselves barely hanging on. This year, it was Cat. The last time she and Cat caught up was two weeks ago, right after the doctor shared the awful news that Silvia wouldn’t live past a month. Yesterday, late at night, Nina came to visit her (she lived at Milligan Apartments in Eastbrook). They talked for hours, the focus was Nina’s growing worry about her sister’s mental health. With the divorce, the family drama, being a business owner, and Silvia’s condition, Cat was barely keeping it together, drinking more and more as the days went on. Nina was crying, ‘Help me’ and so Lydia rallied up the girls — Brooke, Harper, and Vanessa — to remind Cat that she was loved and that she was not alone. Later on today they would meet at Palermo to surprise Cat. It’s been almost two years since they were all together like that. She needed to be a better friend.

“Oh, and the usual please,” Lydia added, looking up at the wise old man that was a pillar to the Edenridge community.

Beau began making up Lydia’s usual. She was always a favourite student of his. A bright smile and an extremely clever mind. She was part of a group that called themselves Heartbreakers. The year Antoine Beauregard moved to Edenridge was the year that the heartbreakers were in their senior semesters. They all had a different light in them, a different aura. They were able to relay themselves through different mediums and vocations. Lydia was always the most cerebral of the quintet. She read a room and a person so easily. It wasn’t a surprise to Beau that she ended up a psychologist. He was more than happy to write her a letter of recommendation to both college and when she began working at Shannon Ramsey’s office.

“Busy morning rush, as always. You’re late!”

Being in his current line of work, Beau had come to know the comings and going’s of a lot of Edenridge’s townsfolk. Every morning, he would wake up at 5am and then leave shortly thereafter to get the shop set up. He would see the likes of Mei and Jill, drunk as all hell, stumbling home. Xavier Booker, returning from a night on the corner. Sylvester James, worn out, tired from carrying the world on his shoulders on his way home. Beau saw everything. Lydia herself had a routine that she followed and today she had stepped outside that line.

“How are things, petite fleur?”

“Oh you know,” Once she pulled her double espresso’s plate close, Lydia grabbed her small cup and brought it to her lips, “Just compartmentalizing all the grief my kids go through.” She took a ginger sip before placing it down, “Huh, so you noticed?” She raised an eyebrow at the mention of her being late. Beau had a phenomenal memory but truth be told she didn’t think he would remember the exact time she showed up everyday. Lydia preferred to live a life unnoticed. It was her way of avoiding drama and unnecessary headaches.

“I see everything, Miss Anderson,” Beau, for the briefest of moments, slipped into his old teacher mode. Having so many former students as customers was always jarring because when he gazed upon their grown up faces, they were still the fourteen to eighteen year olds that he taught English literature to. “Is there anything I can help with? I’ve been around the block a few times.”

A statement here which was true. Beau had seen a lot in his years walking God’s green. He had seen brother kill brother. He had found father raping daughter. He had watched kids kill kids. He had seen it all. Depending on the day, Antoine would often be poisoned by a memory he would soon rather forget. He could see the world through their eyes. He could feel it as they succumbed to malady or misfortune. Recently, Beau found himself reliving two days in his head. December 4th 2016 and August 29th 2019. The day Allison Davies died and the day Charlie Decker opened fire. He learned about the party on Carlisle but by the time he got there, it was already over. He wondered what could’ve been had he made it to the party sooner. Could Allison have survived? On the day of the school shooting, Beau followed every instinct he had. He used his cop brain to avoid casualties but he still felt guilty. Guilty that he couldn’t prevent Roddy Callahan running back into the school. Guilty that he couldn’t stop Charlie. Guilty that he couldn’t stop Poppy James and Natalia Belmonte from watching the poor boy get shot.

“In terms of my work? Nah, I’m good. That’s what cult films are for. To get my mind off of work,” She took a deeper sip of her coffee, before sighing, “But Cat, I don’t know. I’m worried about her.” Lydia sighed to herself, placing her cup down and grabbing her banana nut muffin. Picking at it, she looked at the muffin and explained, “We all drink from time to time. I fancy good ass whiskey. But she’s getting worse. I don’t really know what to do about that,” Lydia glanced up at her old teacher and frowned, “She’s losing faith in herself as a mother, as a daughter, as a sister, and as a lover. The reason why today’s a bit different is because I’ve been doing last minute things with my girls. We’re going to surprise Cat. Show her she’s not alone. It just hurts to watch her drown and not be able to do anything about it, but I guess I’m not unfamiliar with this feeling.”

She wasn’t and she never would be. There were too many things in life that people had little control over. Lydia knew that all too well. She couldn’t bring her mom back and ask her to not respond to that domestic call. She couldn’t calm Bobby down when he was going through his post traumatic stress from the war. She couldn’t convince Nay to give life another chance and walk beyond the white picket fence. She couldn’t convince Lolly to reconnect with her friends. It was daunting really. How little control she had. The lack of control was becoming more and more inevitable each and every day. “I hate this feeling.”

“Herodotus said, Of all men’s miseries, the bitterest is this; to know so much and have control over nothing,” Beau took a sip from his own coffee before continuing. “I have known y’all for fifteen years. I’ve watched you grow, change, become who you were meant to become. In that little group of yours, Caterina has always been the heart, the spark that pumped the blood into your veins. If she’s struggling, you cannot control that. Nobody can. The best you can do is be there for her, as you always have been. Caterina has to do the rest.”

As he had said she was a grown woman now, with her own life, her own thoughts and her own feelings. He didn’t know how much help he could be to Lydia, Cat, anyone really. In a world such as this one now, what good could an old teacher do?

Antoine grabbed himself a biscotti from the counter jar and broke himself a piece off. He loved these. Colleen made them fresh every morning, except for this last batch since she was off galavanting. Still absolutely amazing though. “It’s been a while since I last saw you in here with anyone. You’re eating enough? I know you have a lot of responsibility so make sure you’re making time for you, fleur intelligente.” With a knowing smile, Beau took another sip from his drink. “How is Bobby Batters?”

Chewing a piece of her muffin, Lydia shrugged, realising she hadn’t caught up with Robert in a couple weeks now. Work didn’t really stop for her and Shannon Ramsey. “I imagine as good as he’ll ever be. I mean he has his security business and I imagine that keeps his mind off of things, like my job does for me.” In a fog of thought, Lydia held her cup and absentmindedly rubbed her left thumb against it.

That went on for a second or two, before she glanced up at Beau and pondered, “It’s better off this way.” Holding back the sadness, covering it up with a straight face, void of emotion, Lydia took a gulp of her coffee, a way to acknowledge how things turned out for her and Bobby. Their relationship was complicated. The love was still there but she knew, and he knew, they wouldn’t do right by each other. Neither her, or him, wanted to hurt the other because of their damage. That was the right thing to do. The smart thing to do. It didn’t change that it was fucking sad. “He’s happy, I’m sure,” She firmly stated, speaking his happiness into existence, convincing herself that he didn’t need her. Not like she needed him.

Love, marriage, and family, they weren’t important to her. She was content in her apartment alone. For Christ’s sake, she couldn’t even get a pet out of fear she’d accidentally kill it. The only time she’s home is at night. Usually, all she wanted to do at night was tune out the silence with a show, as she ate cereal, drank whiskey, and relaxed. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take care of a pet either. She just had to check on her family throughout the day because of their mental health issues. No dog, cat, bird, mouse, or whatever deserved that absence. She already had to deal with her father not being mentally there for her, she didn’t need an animal to go through that same trauma. Love, marriage, and family… they weren’t meant for women like her.

“Honey, Bobby Osso has never been happy a day in his life. Happiest he ever was was when you were with him. Same as you were happiest with him.” Beau had taught five different Osso children during his tenure at Eden. Most recently it was Ricky, when as a favour he substituted for a sick teacher at the new high school. He taught that delinquent Oz, the intriguing Sienna, clever Clari and then there was Robert, the oldest of the Osso kids.

Unquiet rage. Beau had seen it in a handful of people in his life. An anger, like a fever, that just swelled up with every passing moment like an infection, bubbling under the skin until it exploded in an glorious eruption. Bobby Osso had that rage. When he knew him as a boy, Bobby didn’t talk much. He had a knack for talking with his eyes. When he did talk, he was polite, well spoken but he carried a great deal of authority in his voice even back then. Yet when Bobby lost his temper, it was downright despicable. He had never seen him lay his hands on a woman or a child and he didn’t think he would. Bobby was angry but he wasn’t evil. Not like another former student whom Beau believed housed the same rage. A student known to most as the Devil.

Robert Osso always seemed happiest, with a subtle barely noticeable smile on his face in the presence of Lydia Anderson. She was his temperance. Sadly, the war beckoned Bobby to it and their love was separated and up until this point had yet to come together. “I’m not here to interfere in your life, I’m always just here to listen and advise you. Well, I’m here to pour you coffee but I digress.”

After finishing her expresso, Lydia made a dent in her muffin as she quietly listened to Beau. She didn’t want to admit it but her former teacher was right. She couldn’t speak for Bobby but she could certainly speak for herself. When they were together before life took them on their separate journeys, she was happy. God, she was so happy. Everything made sense when he was around. From her mom’s death to her childhood best friend’s death, those were all things he helped her process and she never felt alone. He was her constant. The one thing that always found his way back to her and showed her she didn’t have to struggle alone. She would never be alone. All she had to do was ask.

That’s beside the point and a thing of the past. She doubted he’d want to try again. Even if he did, she didn’t know if she’d say yes. Lydia didn’t have the strength to let him go a second time. Not like she did after graduation. At the time, it was the right thing to do. They were young and had their whole lives ahead of them. If he told her he still loved her… what would she even say?

Nibbling her muffin, she pushed the negativity out of her head and complemented with absolute certainty, “You do more than pour coffee for us sad people, Beau.” Her eyes were sharp and her voice was truthful. “Moments like these mean so much. The calm of the cafe, Sam Cooke’s smooth voice in the background, and… your warmth. We come here because we want to. Not because this is the only place in Eden to get good coffee.” Beau was a pillar in the community. There were many lives he impacted. There were many kids that he loved that loved him. There were many lessons he taught that so many people grabbed and made their own. “You did that. You got us to love you. But I digress,” She finished her muffin and cleaned her hands with her napkin, “I’m just a customer.”

Beau reached out with his large hand and placed it on top of Lydia’s “Thank you for the kind words and thank you for reaching out to those that truly need it. Not many people could do what you do.” The work that Lydia and Shannon did for the people of the community that truly needed it was nothing short of astounding and Antoine respected both women with absolute certainty. “Like the man himself said, Change Gonna Come mon petite. The dark times won’t last but good people like you do.” As the cafe bell rang to signify another customer, the former literature teacher took a step back and offered the Anderson girl a big hearty smile. With his thick Louisiana drawl he spoke “Give your sister my love won’t you?”

“You know I will.”

Edenridge

_{@LovelyComplex & @BrutalBx
Timestamp: After Heroes & Villains, Legado de Montero
FT: Salvador Montero, Avery Kaine, Anthony "Oz" Osso}

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It had taken a while but after many boxes moved, many moments of dodging Esteban’s wrath and Cassandra’s venom, Salvador had managed to escape from his brand new home on Scott Street and entered the limestone jungle that was Edenridge, Massachusetts. His first thought was to venture south towards what he had already heard was the worst part of town; Carlisle Avenue. ReyRey was there and the young man couldn’t wait to see his favourite older cousin. Yet, Sal also liked to think he was a smart type of cat and decided against it. Surprising R2, whilst good in theory, would be terrible in practice as the Kingsnake as some called him was known for having what one might call an unlevel temperament. Instead Salvador headed straight south towards the area known as Main Street.

Immediately, the young Montero realised that the world he now inhabited was incredibly different to the one that he was born into. Miami was a different animal. Sun drenched beaches, palm trees, heat that could cool an egg on the sidewalk. Lest he forget the people. A predominantly Latin X community that looked out for each other and took care of their own. When though he had only been there for a few short hours, Sal already had the feeling that Eden was very much a dog eat dog, survival of the fittest type of place. He already had family here but they were a different breed. The Gonzalez had been raised in the dirt and thrown into the trenches. Sal and Cass were born with silver spoons and trust funds. This was not their place but they had to make it so that it was.

Easier said than done.

Salvador was excited to explore his new home. Edenridge was a small town but in some circles, it was a very famous town. The Most Haunted Town in America. Around every corner was a new horror story to uncover. The Hangman. The Weeping Woman. The Witches on the Hill. There were so many tales to uncover and Sally could barely contain his excitement. He had been into spooky stories since he was a child watching Goosebumps reruns on Netflix. It was his fascination with the macabre which led the youngest Montero to the world of comic books, fantasy and his home with the nerds and misfits of the world. His mother understood, she was always on his wavelength but now she was gone. Dead. Crumpled in a heap on the floor of a hotel with a broken neck. Salvador had worked hard to get the image out of his head but it was proving to be a winless battle.

Opening the door to Swerve Arcana, the newcomer's mouth dropped open and he struggled to pick his jaw up off of the floor. His almond eyes widened as he gazed upon the myriad of shelves of comics, graphic novels and board games. At that moment, Salvador’s nerdgasm went into overdrive. He took one step into the promised land and for the first time in what felt like forever since his mothers passing, a smile crept up across his face.

“You know, now that Jamie’s rejected me, you could totally put in a good word for me with Sissy, Ozzy boy,” Avery leaned on the counter going through an older Langley series, All My Falling Stars. It was the one that got him out there in the big world. A romance story where he took actual experiences with his wife and displayed it to the world. She wondered if this would be a good story to share with Jamie. A story about two star-crossed lovers. An unassuming boy who didn’t believe he’d live past highschool and an incredibly shy girl who felt invisible to the world. It was a cute story and extremely heartfelt. A passion project of Langley’s since his other work was nothing like this, at all.

Strumming on his Stratocaster to the tune of Turn the Page by Metallica, Oz raised his head up from the ground and shook it disappointedly. “Two things; one, no. Two, she’s dating someone right now, some French lawyer chick. Total fox.” He placed his guitar down by his feet as he checked the clock on the wall. Ozzy only had a short break from work, so of course he was going to spend it at Arcana with his dungeon party. Though half the little turd burglars weren’t even there. Did he say they could have a life outside of their quest? Absolutely-fucking-not. He would’ve gone to see Violet but she was busy with her Mom and he hated intruding on their time together. Ozzy glanced towards the door as it chimes open and in stepped a brand new face. “New victim for you, Aves.”

Closing the comic book, Avery glanced up toward the new face. His features reminded her of one specific family. It was uncanny, honestly. The Gonzales were Southside royalty, in a sense. Well, as royal as they could get. They were fighters, survivors, and people you didn’t fuck with. They kept close ties with the people they connected with and knew everyone in this town, including her and her family. Family was everything.

The way this boy’s eyes sparkled, it was like he was a kid who just walked into a candy store. Someone with that kind of spark gave her hope that Swerve Arcana would never go out of business. If it wasn’t for online sales, who knows where she and her father would be. Probably relying heavily on her badass nerd mama Zella Kaine, major larper and dungeon master back in her day who now teaches the arts at Edenridge High. But teachers got paid shit, so maybe not. It was likely the whole family would rely on her sister, Zarissa. She was too smart for her own good and for her family. The only forensic analyst this godforsaken town had and there were a lot of goddamn crimes here. She constantly pulled overtime but hey, she loved it. Thankfully there were nerds all over the world and her dad’s shop had some good finds that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Somehow, Arthur Kaine got the hookup with Langley’s agent so, like, they were one of the first stores to have his new work.

She missed the days when the Midnight Society was part of Oz’s dungeon party. There was so much more life in her playground. They disbanded after the Decker incident and Oz had to adopt randos to keep his mind busy. None of the new kids were as committed as Dal, Lolly, and Dean. Those three, especially when they were with Q, were a force to be reckoned with. Dungeons and Dragons was an escape for them and they made sure to meet at least twice a week. Now though? Dal was constantly babysitting and she fell off the table top bandwagon when Lolly stopped coming. That was around the time Q got his head shot off. Dean soon followed suit, focusing on pursuing a degree in journalism, going against his phenomenal coding abilities and his love for ghost stories. He was a well rounded boy but she always thought he’d do something with ghosts.

Sadly, the heart of their group was gone so they couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a void. There was no Q which means they lost their drive, their purpose, and had to recalculate what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. Lolly was likely gaming 24/7 in her bedroom, she was a recluse after all, Dallas had no end goals, simply wanting to help her town by leading the babysitters club, and Dean was trying to find his footing even if it meant he wasn’t going to pursue what once was a dream. Chasing ghosts and shit.

Giving Oz a nod, Avery left the register and strolled to the newcomer. She smiled when she saw him go straight to the new Langley. “I’m excited about this one. Dread. Gives me spooky Lovecraftian vibes. Madness and Horror. Brand spankin’ new. The first volume. Pretty fucking exciting, right?”

“This shit is gold dust!” Salvador gingerly picked up the Langley time with such delicate care. He held the comic to his nose and inhaled the sweet smell of freshly inked pages and exhaled deeply. “Sooooo fresh.” Realising he was in the presence of another human, Sal placed the comic back down onto its pedestal and looked at the young woman that now stood beside him. “I’m sorry,” He mousily apologised. This was why he was a disappointment to his father. Cass would have read the room, calculated every obstacle and found a way to overcome it before she even took an expensive heeled area off of the Spider-Man welcome mat. Sal, well Sal sniffed a page. Yup. “This place is amazing. You have such cool stuff!”

“Why the fuck are you sorry?” Avery said rather bluntly. She was glad Violet wasn’t here or she’d scold her for her potty mouth. Her whole family talked like sailors, it was honest to goddess a challenge to not curse. She had to do better though. What if Violet left her? One of the only girls that could put up with her bullshit. That would be a travesty. Aves went from staring at the embarrassed boy to her bracelet. She loved that girl. Putting her fist to her lips, her attention back on the stranger, Aves cleared her throat, “My b, welcome to Swerve. The place where you can legit be what you want to be and no one is going to judge you. If you are judged, well, IDK man. That’s legit never happened. Those that come here are usually in search for a place to belong, so like… we’re chill. Sniff that book all you want.”

It was nice to hear that this place seemed to be some kind of safe haven for the freaks and geeks, though the freckled girl could just be trying to sell him more comics than he could afford. Which in itself was a moot point since Sal and his family had enough money to buy the place outright. “I just get…kinda locked on? Like Langley’s stuff is just so good you know? He’s one of my idols. I watched him do that live DND campaign on Youtube the other day and the guy was hilarious. I would kill to play with him.”

Sal took another look around the place, taking in the ambience and feel. This was going to be his throne, he could feel it. When work and family would get too much, this would be what called to him. When the grief and sadness overtook him, when the image of her body became stuck in his head and he couldn’t escape it, this place, it would be his sanctuary, his fortress of solitude, his bat cave. “You guys got any DnD in this town?”

Huh. She liked this kid. Unlike her other family members, he was a nerd through and through. “Do we have DnD?” Avery scoffed in amusement. “DO WE HAVE DND?” She slapped her knee and started to laugh. Once a second or two passed, she turned to the cleancut metal head, “Oz this kid wants to know if we have DnD! Oh, by the way,” Avery was back to looking at the fresh face, all the while grinning, “I’m Avery, this is my dad’s place. That’s my boy Anthony, but call him Oz. He prefers it. He took up the dungeon master mantle after my mom focused on being a teacher. You want an in? You gotta’ convince him.”

Like the Lord of the underworld he was in his dreams, Oz leapt up from behind a bookshelf and landed in a crouched position next to the newcomer. “Welcome young traveler,” He stood up to his full, tall, lanky frame and began to circle Salvador like a shark that could smell its victims fresh blood in the water. “So you wanna play a game?” The metal head spoke in his best Jigsaw impression. “I must tell you, what we do here is not just a game. Our DnD is a way of life. To join our party one does not just simply walk into Swerve, you. have. to. earn. it.” Ozzy stopped behind the boy and placed his skull ringed fingers gently onto his shoulders. “To join our party, you have to undertake a quest.”

His dark eyes drifted to Avery as he held the young completely in this thrall and a knowing smile crept up across his face. “In the kingdom of Edenridge, there are many untold dangers. Around every corner, a new faction plots to bring our realm to ruin. Snakes in the grass, monsters in the water and above it all, our Lord whose name we doth not speak,” His final word a whisper into Sal’s ear. Oz dragged a finger down Sal’s cheek before positioning himself back at the forefront next to Avery. Pulling out a D20 from the inner pocket of his denim vest, Ozzy held it aloft between himself and the comic store employee. “Dare we say it, Butter Scotch? Is he worthy to be the one to reunite our team of heroes?”

To give Sal insight, Avery whispered, “I’m a ranger Tabaxi very far from my homeland in search of my long lost sister, Pepper Jack. Also kinda’ a pest. A troll. A goofball. A fucking idiot.” When she saw Oz giving her a deadly serious glare, Aves rolled her eyes and matched his dramatics, “Let the fates decide!” She waved her hands in front of her, vertical and in the opposite direction from one another, like she was putting a spell on Sal.

Taking the D20 out of Oz’s grasp, Aves’ changed her voice’s octave (much higher and with a slight lisp) and went into playful, minx mode. A character that took hardly anything seriously, “Do it, I dare you. Triple dog dare you. Don’t be a pussy. I’m the only pussy in this party! Get higher than fifteen and we will set you on your funfunfun quest! What do you say?”

”I’m in, Lady Butter Scotch,” Salvador took the D20 from Avery and held it aloft his head like a great sword of destiny. ”I am Raoul of the Order of the Profane Soul. Blood Hunter. I wish to aid you on your quest to find your sister!” With a flick of his wrist, Sal rolled the dice onto a nearby shelf. He watched as the fabled die bounced in slow motion across the old panel unit until it finally stopped in front of the Stephen King section. Sally widened his chocolate eyes in shock and pleasure as the D20 showed a face of 18.

Though his excitement was immediately ruined when Aves teasingly corrected him, “I ain’t no lady, bitch. I wouldn’t be caught dead in silk and pearls. Just call me Butter. Or Scotch. Or Butter Scotch.”

Oz looked at Avery and then back to Sal with a huge grin upon his face. He placed his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “In our world, young Raoul, there exists a group of heroes. Heroes who have time and time again, protected these lands from those that wish it ill. Sadly, in their most recent battle, our legends lost their leader and thus, without his light to guide them, fell apart. Butter Scotch and I have tried to get them together again but alas, our attempts have been met with naught but failure. If you, Raoul of the Order can convince them to band together once more, then and only then, may you join our party. Raoul, to join us, you must return together, the Midnight Society.”

Pulling his arms from his pockets in a sudden motion, Heavy Metal Oz grabbed either side of Sal’s face and leaned in close. With a hushed whisper, he spoke into the young man’s face. ”Your first task, find the Quill. The Quill will ink the words and draw the map to the path you must take. Make haste, young Raoul, for in the lands of Eden, time is very much of the essence.” In a dramatic move, Oz span away from Sal and straight out of the front door of Swerve, hopefully to return to reality.

“Translation: Find our knowledge cleric. She’s a scholar, a skill monkey, and a healer. Oz was super vague though,” Aves shook her head at her friend. Did he really think Sal could find people based on nicknames like ‘The Quill’? Knowing Oz he likely was assuming she’d take care of the rest. “You don’t have to go too far, just go to the manga section,” Avery pointed in a direction where Rosie was likely hiding and drawing her new character concept for her fanfiction. “Gorgeous blonde hair. A mischievous smile. Total babe.”

In a swift moment, Sal broke free of the fantasy fever dream he had walked into and looked at the befreckled young woman standing before him. “Oh….cool. Thanks for letting me join you guys. I really don’t know anyone other than my family here and they’re aren’t really…well…they….yeah, no thanks a lot.” The Montero child offered up a genuine, sweet smile to Avery as he gripped a hold of his rucksack tightly, preparing himself for the next great adventure. His eyes fell upon the manga section that she had pointed to and he signed through his nose in determination, stepping onward onto glory.

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

Shepard Frasier

▲Persona

Shepard Alistair Frasier

^{Nickname(s): Shep}

”Wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are”

–Kurt Cobain

╟ July 16th, 21
|| Caucasian - Scottish
|| Male
|| Atheist. Fuck Politics
|| Pansexual
|| Fucking Everybody╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

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A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || “Of course I aced the fucking thing. It’s so terribly easy to know exactly what sort of things these people are looking for. A nice word here, a heroic gesture there, no problem at all, pal. Pretty sure I scored top of my class. Surprised? No chance”

|| Practical test || “Piece of piss, really. No one can out strategise me and my strategy here was simple. Hang back, let the Neanderthals do their thing then find the strongest of the bastards and hijack his body and show those trackers exactly how it’s done. They tested my own physical capabilities too, nailed it”

|| Written essay topic || “Well, I have them the usual spiel of it always being my dream of being a hero. Told them about Father’s time as an agent for Her Majesty's Secret Service and how I wanted to honor our family by following in his footsteps but in a more visible light. Yada yada yada, complete load of bollocks”

|| Video supplement || “Given my penchant for denim and leather I imagine the powers that be will deem me, the bad boy with the heart of gold whose ability to supercharge someone’s special powers makes me the ultimate team player. They’ll probably leave it out of the brochure that I’m slowly killing anyone I take over. What? You want to cut that out? Why? Don’t you people want the truth? Fuck it. Anyway, hero licence, honor the family, that full gimmick. Buy the boy a biscuit I’m going for a drink”

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak Academy

Y E A R

Junior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Spiritual - Superpower Manipulation - Physical

O C C U P A T I O N

IT Technician

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

The Towers at Crystal Lake Commons

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

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Bad boy does not cut it with Shepard. He may be pretty but there’s something ugly eating away inside of him; that much is obvious just by the way he looks at the people around him with such disdain. He is known as someone who treads the thin line between genius and psychotic and will be the first to announce that he is the smartest person in the room. He can solve mathematical equations in seconds, he is a computer whiz and regularly hacks into the school database and his fellow students' bank accounts and has managed to make himself a nice little side hustle with this. Most of the time, if he can help it, Shepard likes to keep himself to himself. He enjoys solitary sports like climbing or swimming and constantly wears headphones to tune out all the noise of other people. When crossed, Shep can be outright despicable and is not opposed to violence against any member of the student body.

Not without his good qualities, Shepard can be a kind and caring soul for those he believes have been wronged through no fault of their own. The weak and the bullied are his people and he would lay down his life to protect them.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

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A B I L I T I E S

Possession: Shepard's main ability is to transfer his consciousness into that of another human being through the medium of physical contact. He does this by destabilising his personal quantum field and merging it with another. When inside a host, Shep usually acts as a voice inside of their head, he cannot control the motor functions of a strong willed person but any weak willed, willing or somehow impaired (ie a drunk or concussed) is much more easily manipulated. He can remain inside of a host indefinitely if he so chooses.

Ability Supercharging: A bi-product of his possession ability; when Shepard inhabits the body of someone with powers, he enhances their abilities in some way; i.e someone with super strength could become even stronger, someone with enhanced speed could go even faster, an energy projector might be able to increase their range etc. The enhancement fades when Shep leaves the body.

Intangibility: Shep can phase through solid objects and living beings at will. The use of his powers is accompanied by flickering, prismatic afterimages of his body as he quantum shifts through space. So far the only extension of this ability is that of the clothes he wears and not anything extra.

Invisibility: Shepard is able to pass in and out of the visible spectrum by breaking down his quantum field.

L I M I T A T I O N S

As stated above, one of the main limitations of Shepard’s powers is that he can only control certain types of people otherwise he simply is just a passenger in their body.

Shepard’s own body is massively unstable. In order to maintain his own corporeal form, he must routinely possess a host and actively take away some of their life force in order to extend his own and stabilise his body. When he has departed a host, Shepard leaves a little part of his own essence in them, this mostly means nothing but to a recurring host, it might mean hearing his voice, seeing his face, the thought of him occurring quite frequently.

C O M B A T

As a combatant, Shepard is known as a traditionally dirty fighter. With powers that lend themselves to support or to infiltration, Shep has to make himself useful on a battlefield somehow. He relies on sneak and surprise attacks and traditionally uses Greco Roman and catch-as-catch can style wrestling techniques in combat. Shepard like to tie people up in knots with quick and excruciatingly painful submissions after throwing them around with relative ease.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

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D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Brown | Short | Messy
• Eyes: Green
• Height: 5’11
• Body Type: Lean & Athletic
• Clothing Style: Rock & Grunge
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Shepard has both of his ears pierced. He also has a body littered with tattoos which include a dead tree rising up his torso, a rose on the back of his left hand, an an unkindness of ravens wrapping around his right forearm, scales of justice on his right shoulder, a spider web on his left shoulder,the trio of monkeys on his left forearm and a shipwreck on his back.

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

• Cunning
• Nihilistic
• Hedonistic
• Intelligent
• Self Loathing
• Aggressive
• Introspective

F E A R S

Shep’s biggest fear is to fade away both metaphorically and figuratively. He is worried about a slow death much like his mother but he is also terrified that one day he will merge with someone or go intangible to the point that he can never return to himself and he will simply cease to exist.

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

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L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

Lord Alistair Frasier aka The Mist: Father (FC: Ralph Fiennes)
Lady Martina Frasier: Mother - Deceased (FC: Helena Bonham Carter)

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

Please delete section if not applicable.
Childhood best friends? Exes? Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Partner? Put anyone that is noteworthy to your character here.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

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Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

The Sluagh, a mythical demon in Scottish Folklore. Legend tells us that a Sluagh is the soul of the unquiet dead, spat back out of hell and unable to find peace. On dark, lonely nights the Sluagh flies across the darkened skies, seeking travellers to snatch up into their talons and drop back down to Earth, killing them and taking their souls for their own. Of course this is all myth and folklore….right? According to the Frasier clan, maybe not…

In eighteenth century Scotland, somewhere deep in the Highlands, a solitary man walked a dusty trail. He was starving, near death but he was desperate to complete his journey. In his possession, the traveler held a a precious block of stone, black and glistening that had crashed down to Earth from the sky. It was his want to gift this stone to a woman of wealth, so that he may barter for supplies for his struggling farm. After encountering many perils on his trek, the traveler thought nothing more could stop him, until he met the Sluagh. In an act of desperation, he offered the stone to the demon, hoping it would save him. The soul taker claimed it in greed before snatching the traveler and flying into the sky. What the Sluagh did not anticipate was the cleverness of the man, who upon seeing the fires of a home as they rose, ripped the stone from the demon's mouth, causing him to be released from its grasp. The traveler fell through the roof of the home and landed on the bed of a fair young maiden. Fashioning the stone into a wedding band, he proposed to the maiden who would soon become the progenitor of the Frasier family.

A happy tale one might think but the Frasier’s believe not so much. They believe that after deceiving the Sluagh, that their clan would be forever cursed and that a piece of the monster lived within the stone. Over the years, many of the Frasier men have suffered horrendous deaths but also great and powerful blessings.

Alistair Frasier was one to receive such a blessing. In the age of heroes and villains and black and white, Lord Alistair worked in the field of grey as an Agent in Her Majesty's Secret Service. Known as the Mist, Alistair had the gift of being able to transform his physical body into a gaseous substance which allowed him to freely move around areas without being seen and even make his way through walls, a preferred ability when killing people for the Queen. Alistair never wanted to be a hero and was certainly not a great lover of attention. When he met and fell in love with Martina Cole, a scientist for MI6, he believed that it was finally time to give up the gun and retire, a thought which did not last. The couple moved back to Alistair's native Scotland and settled in his family’s ancestral estate in the Highlands. Shortly thereafter, Martina gave birth to their only child, a boy they called Shephard.

Life at Frasier Manor was anything but normal for young Shepard, with both of his parents in demanding jobs which took them away from home a lot. This meant that Shep was essentially raised by nannies and family friends. This set off a deep rooted resentment for his parents that very much continues to this day. One thing that his parents did bequeath to Shep was a disciplined outlook on life, as such he has always poured 110% into everything he does. As a child, Shepard’s chosen vocation was his academics as he thought it would be the perfect thing to make his parents proud of him. A boy genius, he aced every class, passed every test and yet for his parents, it was never really enough. As he matured, Shep took to music as a way of channeling his growing anger and frustration. He found solace in the words of Bruce Springsteen and Kurt Cobain. He found a brother in arms with the guitar twangs off Keith Richards and he found a passion and meaning beneath the top hat of Guns and Roses Slash.

Things changed on Shepard’s sixteenth birthday when his father gifted him the meteorite ring that clan legacy says was the one from the Sluagh legend. As soon as he placed the ring upon his finger, a strange sensation rushed through his body and in a blink, Shep was on the other side of the room where his father once stood…wait? He was stood there. He glanced in the mirror and recoiled in horror as the visage of his father stood staring back at him. In a panic, Shepard soon found himself flying around the room as a cloud of mist until finally after several hours, he was back in his own body and his father, after calming down, explained to the boy what had just happened.

Alistair retold the Sluagh story to his son but with the added detail that the ring that Shepard now wore, had an uncontrollable effect on some of the men that wore it. Some of these men would develop abilities beyond that of mortal men and these abilities would always come with a severe drawback because of the demon that had cursed them all those years ago. Every Frasier needed to steal the life of another to keep their own going, the cost of doing business, Alistair called it.

With the emergence of his powers, Shepard began to feel even more isolated as now he realised that even basic physical touch could cause adverse effects to the people around him. To add to his growing list of issues, Martina, Shep’s mother, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour and the once brilliant scientist slowly began to lose her mind. Before her death, the last great thing she did was send Shep to Crystal Lake in the hopes that someone there would be able to help him and save him from himself.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

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• FC: Hero Fiennes Tiffin
• Dialogue Color: 838288
• Font: Trashbox
• Shepard is a keen musician and plays the guitar, drums and the piano.
• Shep wears headphones all the time, he’s not a talker.
• Due to the nature of his abilities, Shep’s training is focused on infiltration and espionage.
• Shepard works IT repair around campus and is often called upon to help fix training equipment as well.
• Never question Springsteen in front of Shep or he will slap the shit out of you. That is all.
• Energy Drinks & Craft Beer.

Edenridge

TW: IT'S A LIAM POST. IT'S FUCKED.
TIMESTAMP: Proceeds after Heroes & Villains

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Wes really didn’t know what to make of it when he bumped into an aide of the Mayor earlier that day. He was asked to meet them on the corner outside Swerve Arcana so that he could talk with the head of the town that dreaded sundown. In Wesley’s investigative mind, the logical explanation was to think that Theodore had discovered his relationship with his youngest daughter and wanted to go through the whole father spiel of warning him to not put a wrong foot forward lest he face the consequences. Wes didn’t mind that, he believed he had enough warewithall to be able to talk on the same level as Mr Grimm.

With his beloved camera in one hand, Wesley climbed into the black sedan with the blocked out windows without a second thought. He wasn’t going to back down, no matter what sort of thinly veiled threat Kylee’s father was going to throw at him. He loved that girl, in spite of everything that she may not know, he truly loved her. In the short time they had even been a thing, she had made him feel more alive than anything ever had before. He did wonder if she knew all of his secrets, if she would still be there by his side. He wondered…

Wes closed the door behind him and the car took off instantly. It did not speed, if anything it was a leisurely drive but the motion of the engine restarting still made him jump. He turned to face the man sitting on the other side of the back seat. Kylee held a lot of resemblance to her father with their dark features. He sat there, dressed in a fine black suit and gloves with a warm smile on his face, just like hers.

“Good Afternoon, Mr Silo. You know who I am?” The Mayor poised, his fingers interlocked together across his lap, the air around him carrying that aura of regality that he produced all the time.

“Yes sir, Mayor Grimm.” Wes was not going to back down but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t nervous. Meeting your girlfriend's father was always a big deal but for him? Well his girlfriend's old man just so happened to be the most powerful man in three counties. A man who not only ran a town or who owned multiple businesses but a man who was feared for a past he dare not speak on. He fiddled a little bit with his camera but never let his eyes stray away from Teddy.

“Correct. And who else am I?”

“Kylee’s father.”

“Correct again. I like this young man, Bash. He’s clever,” Teddy spoke to the man driving their car towards Milligan bridge and the growing dark cloud in the distance. The driver simply nodded his head as his pale blue eyes watched in the rear view mirror. Lifting his hands to his Windsor knot, the Mayor loosened the coal grey tie that his precious had picked out for him earlier that morning. “Now tell me, Wesley, if I can be so bold as to call you such….What are your intentions with my daughter?” It was a habit of his to pause or elongate sentences. In his current guide, many believed it to be for show, to enunciate. In reality, for those who recall days gone by, they would know that as a boy, Teddy Grimm suffered terribly from a stutter. He certainly did not stutter now, however…

There it was! The big bad daddy speech he was expecting. Wesley hadn’t had that many considering he never really had a serious girlfriend, something his sister never let him forget. That said, he had seen the movies, read the comics, he knew how it was supposed to go and someone like Teddy, who thrived on his power over people would not get to him. No sir. “I have no ill intentions, sir. She makes me happy, the happiest I’ve been in a long time. In fact, probably the happiest I’ve ever been. Period. I’m falling in love with her.”

“Love? Well, isn’t that fascinating?” For the first time since Wes had climbed into his sedan, the look on the Mayor's face had transformed. The warm, inviting gaze of the man who had won the hearts and minds of the people of Edenridge Massachusetts had been replaced with a much more curious, not quite serious but stern enough look. “Love is built on a cornerstone of trust. It is the very foundation on which any strong relationship will take root and yet…I wonder if you trust my daughter, truly trust her. And if you do not trust her, then surely you do not love her?”

With a furrowed brow, the reporter looked at what could very well be his future father-in-law with confusion in his eyes. Where was the older man pulling this from? How could he question how he feels about Kylee? The two of them had never met before. There was no possible way Teddy could justify this opinion. “I don’t follow.”

The Serpent legend let out a hearty laugh. Loud and bellowing, with the sound bouncing off the black windows of the sedan. “Please, Wesley, you are a smart boy. Top of your class from Pinehurst Academy. GPA 4.0. Graduated 2016, went to Brown University, passed with flying colors there too, if I’m not mistaken? Journalism major right? Then you returned home and took up a position at the Pinehurst Echo. All that education. All that experience and yet you cannot follow the beautiful simplicity that is love.”

“I…I well…”

“Sh sh sh, Wesley, the grown up is talking.” He placed his hand on Wesley’s camera and took it away from him. “You see, I am aware that you were released from your contract at the Echo for reporting fake news that you yourself cooked up to drive paper sales, website likes and subscriptions and to get your little self noticed.” Once again, Teddy's face morphed accordingly. In place of his frown was now a cold, blank and completely detached glare. “I am also aware that your older brother has bailed you out of more financial holes than you would care to even dwell on. I know who your family is in debt to and I know what you have been doing behind my little girl's back. I know you are helping the one sending the letters.” The Reaper’s voice had transmuted into a machine gun, his words like bullets bluntly hitting their target.

With every statement of his hidden past now coming to light, a wave of panic began to wash over Wes. “Where are we going?!” He looked out of the blackened windows — they were not in Edenridge anymore. The realisation that there was no escape hit the reporter like a ton of bricks. The doors were locked; there was no way he could break a window. He finally realised that this wasn’t just a father warning his daughter’s boyfriend to get her home before dark. It was the look in Teddy’s eyes that gave it away. This was a Reaper who came to collect a soul. “I…I had to! I had to,” He professed, gripping into the inside door handle. “Ky is innocent in all this. I’d never hurt her!”

“And I will not give you the chance to.” Calmly, Teddy took the camera he was holding and smashed it against Wes’s skull several times, right above his left eye. He dropped the camera and used his superior size to pin Wes down as his gloved hands wrapped around the young man’s throat. “She is the very air I breathe!” The Reaper hissed. “My precious!” As Wesley’s face began to turn red and his lips blue, Teddy tightened his grip. “You lied to her. As any good father would, I cannot allow that to happen again!”

Wes gripped at Teddy’s hand around his throat but the older man was much larger and stronger. The angle at which he was pinned down made it extremely difficult for him to get any leverage at all as the Mayor pressed his full imposing weight down on top of him. He could feel his skin beginning to burn as he struggled. His blood vessels burst, as the air was squeezed out of his lungs. The blood seeping from the huge gash on his forehead was beginning to obstruct Wesley’s vision. Through the crimson mass covering his face, the young reporter gasped for breath, the only thing he could see were those beautiful brown eyes, the same ones that belonged to his love, Kylee.

Kylee, I’m so sorry.

After several moments, Wesley Silo’s body went limp in the Reaper's hands. With their chests pressed together, the Mayor could no longer feel the boy's heartbeat, the air no longer flowing from his mouth or nose. Teddy leaned back in his chair, finally releasing Wes from his grasp. He took out the handkerchief from his suit pocket and lightly dabbed dry the damn perspiration around his mouth.

“It is truly a great shame that ruin will descend upon this town like the fires of Pompeii but it must be done, our boy here has seen to that. Eden will fall to rise again….Bash, let Julian know we are coming, would you, darling?”

Edenridge

_{@LovelyComplex & @BrutalBx
Timestamp: After Figure It Out
(sometime after lunchtime)
FT: Clayton Costigan, Avery Kaine,
Jamie Lord (O'Hara)}

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“I’ll be back in a few minutes, thanks for this boss,” Clay said as he stepped out of the patrol car.

Sly had been so graceful after the interview with Rhett to allow Clay the time to stop and recalibrate and there was no better place to do this than at Swerve Arcana. It was somewhere where he could get lost amongst the pages of fictional heroes and villains. He wasn’t that big on the whole comic thing considering he himself had to deal with the real life stuff every day of his life but it was a great way to escape nonetheless.

As he looked down the street, the young officer noted a familiar face climbing into a black car. What was Wes up to? He’d been radio silent for days. Kylee too, up until today and even that was a very brief conversation. He probably owed her an apology. Had something happened? Had the mixing of business and pleasure finally blown up in their face? Clay knew that Wesley was hiding something from them all. Something wasn’t right. That would be tomorrow 's problem though. Today, it was all about those damn letters. The ones that were directed at his friend, his childhood brother, his guiltiest burden. David. It had already been a day of dredging up the past. From meeting Jamie and finding out about the letters, talking to Lamb and now being forced to interview Rhett. These were his friends, his people. Was this to he his curse as a small town cop? Uncovering the secrets and lies of the ones he loved?! Then there was Cat. He hadn’t reached out to her yet after their encounter earlier that day. He hoped he hadn’t ruined it with her already. The weeks they had shared together so far were the best of his life.

Clay passed through the doorway, narrowly avoiding the latest standee that Mr Kaine had put up to hype the latest superhero blockbuster, Divided We Stand or some shit. It was gonna be on Netflix. No doubt his current charge would want to binge it in one weekend. He glanced behind the counter to see the big blue eyed girl he called his best friend staring back at him, hands on hips like she was about to tell him off for ruining her latest shrine to the inked page. Clay jumped onto the counter and sat down, letting out a large sigh. “Hey.”

“McDungus, surprised you came to visit,” Avery closed the first volume of the new Langley series, Dread, a supernatural, small town Scooby Doo-esque story that gave her vibes of her home itself, and leaned on the counter, looking up at her friend, “Dad told me, about the letter. You okay, buddy?” The letter itself was a god awful read, too mushy for her. Definitely written by a kid but she knew it affected her bestie because of who it involved. David.

“Not really,” Clay lamented as he leaned back on his palms. “It’s funny, we’ve all been getting these damn letters for so long now. People are just ignoring them. Decker, what he did was a tragedy but he was from the other side of the line, you know? To some, it’s horrible to say, he didn’t matter. I hadn’t even heard of the kid until he did what he did. Yet it takes one letter, one sentence, a phrase and an entire world can come crashing down.” The man’s dark brown eyes trailed off blankly just staring out of the window. “That’s what this one is doing to the other side of that line, our side. David’s name is dirt. Coach, Jamie, me, we’ve suffered for his mistakes from the day he died. Now somebody is dragging it back up and for what? What purpose? I mean for God’s sake Avery I had to interview Rhett. Rhett! Fuck!”

Woah. Okay. Yeah, he was extremely affected by this. Aves glanced at the Marvel section to see Rosie re-organizing the comics, making sure they were by character. The girls briefly met each other’s gaze before Aves’ attention was brought back to Clay. After pushing herself off the counter, she shifted the Langley comic to the side and lifted herself up. Sitting next to him, she stared at the Dr. Strange lifesize cutout standup. With her calm demeanour and mellow tone, she noted, “People ignore them until it hits home.” Nudging Clay with her arm, dropping all clown behaviour, she pondered outloud her thoughts on it all. The letters, Decker, the crashing tide of the past, David. “It’s not about the writer; It’s never been about the writer, has it?”

Thinking to herself, she lightly chuckled at how all the things in this town, no matter how big or how small, affected those in it. How absolutely unbelievable things sounded, like ghost letters haunting and targeting people, and yet they were all true, in this little town called Edenridge. “I…” She contemplated the next set of words, never changing the level of her voice. Avery was such a peaceful spirit, like a warm blanket on a cold, winter’s night, always there to speak her mind but in a way that it didn’t make you feel attacked, “... remember how quick people were to judge David. Someone so beloved like David O’Hara. It took one rumor, a bad one at that, to fuck it up. If there’s one thing I’m learning about these letters, they all hold a purpose. An objective. They all show some kind of truth. At least Decker’s was more… a critique on society. This one feels… angry.”

Placing her arms behind her, Aves leaned back, staring at the fluorescent light, “I guess this might be a weird take but if I had David’s love letters and I was still hurting: what better weapon than words of the past? Force the town to reflect, say they’re all dickwads for ruining someone who in most eyes was… good. That’s my take, at least. Don’t know if that makes you feel better, though.”

“Thanks Aves,” Clay leaned forward and began to rub his eyes in stress and frustration. “I need to look at this from all angles but I think this gets solved if I find out who the girl is. We all had our suspicions,” He jumped down from the counter and glanced back outside towards Sly and the waiting patrol car. “You might be right about that. It might all be a big hoax. I really don’t know. One thing I do know is that I have to put a stop to all this. One way, or another,” He made his way towards the front door and paused for a moment. “Hey Avery, do the heroes always win? In your comic things?”

“If they do,” Avery followed suit, hopping off the counter, and in well earned self confidence, she admitted with a real, yet warm smile, “It’s usually at a great cost. So, no, Clay, they don’t. But hey.” She took her phone out of her jean jacket and swayed it in her hand, “Check your email. Couldn’t send it through text, the content was too goddamn powerful. Just a reminder of what you got waiting for you when it's all over.” She tossed her phone on the counter and shuffled her way back to her post, sending him off with some nerd shit so he can conquer his day, “Quote. The future is worth it. All the pain. All the tears. The future is worth the fight. Unquote. The Martian Manhunter. Take that and kick some ass, dude. And when it’s all said and done, tell me about it.” She casually saluted her friend, giving him the green light to make his exit, hoping she helped ease his stress a little. If not, the email certainly would.

Clay offered his best friend a salute in return. She was a dork. She was a weirdo. She was the antithesis of everything and everyone that Clay had been raised with. Yet she was the closest thing to family and a home that he had beyond his growing one with Cat. He fucking loved Avery. Pushing the door open, the foundling stepped back out into his own personal war zone. Not all heroes wear capes.

Once he left, a customer, the young lad from Godmothers pulled up with a stack of comics, an assortment of Batman. Noice. Avery resumed her day job striking up idle chatter. In that conversation, the young lad had asked for an application. “Wait, I thought you made sandwiches?”

“I do.. but I don’t know for how long. Just trying to cover my tail,” The young lad shrugged as he watched Aves ring up his comics.

Narrowing her eyes as the cash register opened, Aves inquired, “... getting fired? Also, 42.85.”

“Nah, Cat just dropped a big bomb yesterday. She’s planning on selling.”

Shooketh at this news, Avery's mouth went ajar. Was this really happening? The Godmothers was a staple in Edenridge. Everyone needed their sandwiches. With this newfound news, Avery's heart broke a little on the inside. “No fucking way! Please tell me you’re lying.”

Shaking his head, the boy knew exactly how the comic girl was feeling. He went through the waves of emotions yesterday. “Nope. She’s tired of it. I’m just hoping whoever buys it won’t kill the whole vibe. There’s no place like it.” The boy said defeatedly. Avery looked from him to her open register, only to realise she had no quarters. Just when she was going to get a roll, he shook his head politely declining it, “Keep the change, ain’t nothing but a thing.” They exchanged a few more words as soon as the token geek queen retrieved a blank application for him. The more she talked the more she came to terms with the fact that if Clay knew, he’d be upset. Did he know? When the young lad walked away, she proceeded to grab a roll of quarters and open it.

As the lad opened the door, he took a step to one side to allow the next customer to enter. He nodded to the young woman as he made his way by her. He stopped for a second to turn back and look at the newcomer into the den of the nerds. She certainly didn’t fit in there. His eyes wandered across her figure and body before he sharply existed out of Swerve, now with more than enough reading material amongst other things.

Jamie was a little confused. She had never stepped foot in this place before. It certainly wasn’t her sort of place. Not because she looked down on it like so many others do, far from it, she respected the artwork, the writing, the dedication to craft. No, it was simply not her world. She stayed in her lane because it helped her keep her composure. Structure, order and discipline were some of the tools that she used to keep her issues in check. Clay had always highly praised this place as a safe haven for the broken and the misfits. Jamie definitely felt like she had fallen into both those categories and then some. Perhaps whatever was here that Clay found solace in, she could find it to?

She took a step forward and looked upon the girl behind the counter. She was familiar, Avery, was her name. She was very close with Clayton. Prototypical of him really to have a smoking hot bestie. Jamie really didn’t know how he did it. “…erm…hi!” The young O’Hara waved awkwardly.

Hyper focused on the roll, Avery tore the paper from the middle and began loosening it up. When she heard a voice, she mumbled, distracted by the task at hand, “One second…” and during that second she caught a glimpse of who was waiting for her only to be welcomed by a sight she did not expect. “Oh my—” the next moments happened so quick. The paper ripped faster than a speeding bullet and quarters flew and fell all over the place. “—Jamie.” God, her cool points totally went down. Clearing her throat, she apologised, “My b. I uh…” Quickly, she started collecting the quarters off the counter and proceeded to walk to Jamie’s side to pick up the quarters off the floor, “... how can I help you?”

A smile crept up across Jamie’s delicate face as Avery began to fumble around for spilled coins. Brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, she got down on all fours and began to help gather up the quarters “I think it’s you that needs my help right now.” She was doing her best to hide the fact that she still had a minor buzz going from the day drink with the Supreme and the Royal Flush Gang and so far it did seem to be working. Jamie always was a good actress. She scampered around to another section of the store to grab a few loose ones that had flown over there. Turning, David’s younger twin made her way back to Avery and placed all of her gathered monies in her waiting hand.

“My friend Clay? He says this is a place that’s good to tune out the noise?”

“I guess, yeah. We don’t really pretend here,” Aves placed and pushed the quarters in a central pile. Immediately afterwards, she turned to face her heart’s desire and genuinely explained, never looking away from Jamie’s perfect spring sky eyes, those eyes she could get lost in for days, “It’s a good place to get away from all the bullshit.” Taking a couple steps back, she gestured with her head for the woman whose curves were nothing but softness that stood with such elegance and grace to follow. Jamie O’Hara (or Lord now, ew) was a lady through and through and for the first time in a long time, Avery had a chance to be alone with her. “Let me ask you this, Poppins, how do you want to escape?”

Jamie brought a hand to her lip to cover her smile. Poppins. She could see why Clay liked this girl. Avery had no airs or graces about her. Even in this, the briefest of interactions she was being unapologetically her. This was something that Jamie hadn’t been in a long time. Therapy. Medication. Regimentation. They were keeping this bird in a cage and she had convinced herself that it was for own good and the good of everyone else. She was tired. Tired of so much. Jamie was worn down and ready to quit but she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She would carry on, for her brother.

“I mean…erm,” She looked upon Avery’s freckled face and found warmth. Genuine meaning behind words that could so easily be empty. “What do you guys do to relax here? What does Clay do?”

“Nine out of ten times Clay walks into a cut out, brings his ass to this counter to talk and stuff his face with a sandwich, then checks out some hot chicks,” Though that probably wouldn’t happen anymore now that he was a taken man. It wasn’t Avery’s business to tell anyone that. Cat was still going through a divorce, after all. “He’s an exception, just comes here to distress, rant about a few things, I listen, and then off he goes back to being a hero and taking down villains. The rest of us though? We got stories, we got a game room where kids play Dungeons & Dragons and other fun things, we got an arcade, and we got each other. You want to make a fool of yourself? Go for it. I promise you I’ve done something worse. We don’t judge, we’re just here to have fun.”

Jamie couldn’t hide her laugh any more. As she burst into a brief giggle at the thought of her brother's best friend walking into a cutout or eating food like an animal. “Sounds like Clay. God’s favourite idiot, his sister calls him.” She missed Lamb. She missed Francis and Rhett. She missed David. God she missed David. Now all she had was Russell and that was nowhere near enough. Jamie considered what the freckled beauty had said; about making a fool of herself and the none judgements. Maybe that was what she needed right now? No self serving like Reagan. No pressure like from her parents. Just a little freedom.

“Show me a story?” She tilted her head a little as her face wore a subtle but bright smile.

Was she lucky or was she in another fever dream, far worse than before? Avery Kaine was finding herself melting in this woman’s presence. Jamie shot an arrow to her heart when she freely laughed. God she had such an infectious laugh. A second arrow was shot the moment Jamie tilted her head, looked down and back up from under her lashes all the while asking a question in such a gentle teasing way. Was this heaven or was this hell?

Avery now more than ever had to remind herself that her forever crush was married. There were boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed that she so desperately wanted to cross. “Hey Ro,” She called out to her friend and coworker, “Take care of the front end for a bit, I’m heading to the back.” All her priorities shifted, no longer caring about her surroundings. Avery hyper focused on the transcendental girl beyond her reach. The mischievous geek exuded high energy as she placed her hands on her narrow waist, mirroring Jamie’s playfully coy smile with a smirk, “Why don’t we make a story together?”

There it went. She walked across the line never to look back. Now it was up to her instincts to lead her forward. Clay was such a bad influence on her but fuck, Avery wanted Jamie so fucking bad right now. Was there a small chance she wanted her too?

What was this feeling? The rush of heat in her neck and cheeks. The quickening pace of her heartbeat. This girl, this girl that her doofus friend had talked about for years was standing before her and the way she was looking at her, she was seeing her, really seeing Jamie for who she was. It was refreshing. She wasn’t looking at her as the Coach’s fragile daughter or David’s sensitive sister; she was just Jamie.

The student teacher found herself reaching out with her hand for but a second. She wanted it. She wanted to taste the freedom but then she saw yet another shackle. A golden one on the second finger of her left hand. Jamie suddenly felt the cold blade of guilt stabbing her in the heart like a curved blade. She was married. Russ had been nothing but good to her and God knew he had put up with so much. He couldn’t allow herself to fall. There was still so much yet to be done. It had to be the booze playing with her head. The sadness destroying her soul. Or maybe she was just self destructing? Maybe it was all of them combined.

Straightening herself up, Jamie felt like her own words were choking the life out of her. “Maybe next time,” She feigned a smile and a laugh, her eyes glassy as the tidal wave of overwhelment came crashing down over her shoulders again. “It was nice to finally meet you, Avery. I’ll…” She turned on her heel quickly, breathing in and out, trying to find her balance. “….I’ll get Clay to give you my number. I think I’d like to come here more often.”

The feeling of rejection sucked. The feeling of rejection from your dream girl double sucked. Even with the ache in her chest, Avery didn’t let the feeling take over her. She knew her chances were slim to none, more so because Jamie was married, and now her feelings were out in the open. Avery didn’t even know if Jamie was gay so really, that was a shot in the dark. There were two silver linings from this exchange, though. Jamie was okay with giving her number to her and she did that without Clay’s help and Jamie didn’t have to live a life full of regret, which was honestly worse than rejection.

“Hey,” Aves’ eyes softened, knowing well enough that she was the selfish one to impose herself on the other girl, having no idea what was waiting for her on the other side, “No hard feelings. I expected this actually. I mean you’re gorgeous, Jamie, so I got carried away.” Avery ran her hand through her hair, calmly containing her emotions and seemingly unbothered by Jamie’s response, “I’m always here if you need someone and I’ll know better not to tease you next time, okay?” Jamie O’Hara looked more practically perfect in every way to Avery. She was loyal, had a moral compass, and knew how to turn down a sexual advance, “I’m just glad we finally talked,” a smile rose from the geek’s lips, not daring to breach Jamie’s space, refusing to make her feel uncomfortable again, “Thanks for that.”

With her back to Avery, Jamie smiled again. Her words were sweet and the meaning behind them was so real. She bit the top of her thumbnail nervously before grabbing her hands together and moving them down to their front, more self-control. “I can see why he likes you,” She moved her body back to face the nerdy girl from the comic store and gave her a sweet and heartfelt smile. “Thank you, for this.” Jamie took a few steps forward and leaned in close. She pressed a soft, barely present kiss to Avery’s cheek before quickly making some strides back towards the door. “Til the next? I wanna hear all the stories.”

Unable to hide her dumbass emotions, Avery widely grinned. This was more than she expected from her first one on one encounter with Jamie. A kiss on the cheek? The fuck did she do to deserve that? Regardless of the logic, or lack of, behind the action, Avery boomed in excitement, “Fuck yeah! Whenever you want. I’m down.”

“Ok then,” Jamie beamed excitedly, “Make sure they’re good ones! Clayton has hyped you up something good, don’t let the idiot down,” Jamie waved elegantly before exiting out of Swerve with a grin from ear to ear.

Are we all naught but stories after all?….

“See ya, Poppins.”

DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME]

Shepard Frasier

▲Persona

Shepard Alistair Frasier

^{Nickname(s): Shep}

”Wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are”

–Kurt Cobain

╟ July 16th, 21
|| Caucasian - Scottish
|| Male
|| Atheist. Fuck Politics
|| Pansexual
|| Fucking Everybody╢

⋙: Ａ Ｃ Ａ Ｄ Ｅ Ｍ Ｉ Ｃ Ｓ

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A P P L I C A T I O N P R O C E S S

|| Written test || “Of course I aced the fucking thing. It’s so terribly easy to know exactly what sort of things these people are looking for. A nice word here, a heroic gesture there, no problem at all, pal. Pretty sure I scored top of my class. Surprised? No chance”

|| Practical test || “Piece of piss, really. No one can out strategise me and my strategy here was simple. Hang back, let the Neanderthals do their thing then find the strongest of the bastards and hijack his body and show those trackers exactly how it’s done. They tested my own physical capabilities too, nailed it”

|| Written essay topic || “Well, I have them the usual spiel of it always being my dream of being a hero. Told them about Father’s time as an agent for Her Majesty's Secret Service and how I wanted to honor our family by following in his footsteps but in a more visible light. Yada yada yada, complete load of bollocks”

|| Video supplement || “Given my penchant for denim and leather I imagine the powers that be will deem me, the bad boy with the heart of gold whose ability to supercharge someone’s special powers makes me the ultimate team player. They’ll probably leave it out of the brochure that I’m slowly killing anyone I take over. What? You want to cut that out? Why? Don’t you people want the truth? Fuck it. Anyway, hero licence, honor the family, that full gimmick. Buy the boy a biscuit I’m going for a drink”

S C H O O L

Crystal Peak Academy

Y E A R

Junior

C L A S S I F I C A T I O N

Spiritual - Superpower Manipulation - Physical

O C C U P A T I O N

IT Technician

L I V I N G A R R A N G E M E N T

The Towers at Crystal Lake Commons

⋙: Ｒ Ｅ Ｐ Ｕ Ｔ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ

____________________________________________________________________

Bad boy does not cut it with Shepard. He may be pretty but there’s something ugly eating away inside of him; that much is obvious just by the way he looks at the people around him with such disdain. He is known as someone who treads the thin line between genius and psychotic and will be the first to announce that he is the smartest person in the room. He can solve mathematical equations in seconds, he is a computer whiz and regularly hacks into the school database and his fellow students' bank accounts and has managed to make himself a nice little side hustle with this. Most of the time, if he can help it, Shepard likes to keep himself to himself. He enjoys solitary sports like climbing or swimming and constantly wears headphones to tune out all the noise of other people. When crossed, Shep can be outright despicable and is not opposed to violence against any member of the student body.

Not without his good qualities, Shepard can be a kind and caring soul for those he believes have been wronged through no fault of their own. The weak and the bullied are his people and he would lay down his life to protect them.

⋙: Ｐ Ｏ Ｗ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ ^{＆ Ｆ Ｉ Ｇ Ｈ Ｔ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｓ Ｔ Ｙ Ｌ Ｅ}

____________________________________________________________________

A B I L I T I E S

Possession: Shepard's main ability is to transfer his consciousness into that of another human being through the medium of physical contact. He does this by destabilising his personal quantum field and merging it with another. When inside a host, Shep usually acts as a voice inside of their head, he cannot control the motor functions of a strong willed person but any weak willed, willing or somehow impaired (ie a drunk or concussed) is much more easily manipulated. He can remain inside of a host indefinitely if he so chooses.

Ability Supercharging: A bi-product of his possession ability; when Shepard inhabits the body of someone with powers, he enhances their abilities in some way; i.e someone with super strength could become even stronger, someone with enhanced speed could go even faster, an energy projector might be able to increase their range etc. The enhancement fades when Shep leaves the body.

Intangibility: Shep can phase through solid objects and living beings at will. The use of his powers is accompanied by flickering, prismatic afterimages of his body as he quantum shifts through space. So far the only extension of this ability is that of the clothes he wears and not anything extra.

Invisibility: Shepard is able to pass in and out of the visible spectrum by breaking down his quantum field.

L I M I T A T I O N S

As stated above, one of the main limitations of Shepard’s powers is that he can only control certain types of people otherwise he simply is just a passenger in their body.

Shepard’s own body is massively unstable. In order to maintain his own corporeal form, he must routinely possess a host and actively take away some of their life force in order to extend his own and stabilise his body. When he has departed a host, Shepard leaves a little part of his own essence in them, this mostly means nothing but to a recurring host, it might mean hearing his voice, seeing his face, the thought of him occurring quite frequently.

C O M B A T

As a combatant, Shepard is known as a traditionally dirty fighter. With powers that lend themselves to support or to infiltration, Shep has to make himself useful on a battlefield somehow. He relies on sneak and surprise attacks and traditionally uses Greco Roman and catch-as-catch can style wrestling techniques in combat. Shepard like to tie people up in knots with quick and excruciatingly painful submissions after throwing them around with relative ease.

⋙: Ａ Ｐ Ｐ Ｅ Ａ Ｒ Ａ Ｎ Ｃ Ｅ ^{＆ Ｐ Ｅ Ｒ Ｓ Ｏ Ｎ Ａ Ｌ Ｉ Ｔ Ｙ}

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D A I L Y L O O K S & S T Y L E

• Hair: Brown | Short | Messy
• Eyes: Green
• Height: 5’11
• Body Type: Lean & Athletic
• Clothing Style: Rock & Grunge
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Shepard has both of his ears pierced. He also has a body littered with tattoos which include a dead tree rising up his torso, a rose on the back of his left hand, an an unkindness of ravens wrapping around his right forearm, scales of justice on his right shoulder, a spider web on his left shoulder,the trio of monkeys on his left forearm and a shipwreck on his back.

S U P E L O O K S & S T Y L E

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R A I T S

• Cunning
• Nihilistic
• Hedonistic
• Intelligent
• Self Loathing
• Aggressive
• Introspective

F E A R S

Shep’s biggest fear is to fade away both metaphorically and figuratively. He is worried about a slow death much like his mother but he is also terrified that one day he will merge with someone or go intangible to the point that he can never return to himself and he will simply cease to exist.

⋙: Ｆ Ａ Ｍ Ｉ Ｌ Ｙ ^{＆ Ｒ Ｅ Ｌ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ Ｓ Ｈ Ｉ Ｐ Ｓ}

____________________________________________________________________

L O V E D O N E S
D I R E C T F A M I L Y

Lord Alistair Frasier aka The Mist: Father (FC: Ralph Fiennes)
Lady Martina Frasier: Mother - Deceased (FC: Helena Bonham Carter)

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

Please delete section if not applicable.
Childhood best friends? Exes? Boyfriend/Girlfriend/Partner? Put anyone that is noteworthy to your character here.

⋙: Ｈ Ｉ Ｓ Ｔ Ｏ Ｒ Ｙ

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Y O U R L I F E S O F A R

The Sluagh, a mythical demon in Scottish Folklore. Legend tells us that a Sluagh is the soul of the unquiet dead, spat back out of hell and unable to find peace. On dark, lonely nights the Sluagh flies across the darkened skies, seeking travellers to snatch up into their talons and drop back down to Earth, killing them and taking their souls for their own. Of course this is all myth and folklore….right? According to the Frasier clan, maybe not…

In eighteenth century Scotland, somewhere deep in the Highlands, a solitary man walked a dusty trail. He was starving, near death but he was desperate to complete his journey. In his possession, the traveler held a a precious block of stone, black and glistening that had crashed down to Earth from the sky. It was his want to gift this stone to a woman of wealth, so that he may barter for supplies for his struggling farm. After encountering many perils on his trek, the traveler thought nothing more could stop him, until he met the Sluagh. In an act of desperation, he offered the stone to the demon, hoping it would save him. The soul taker claimed it in greed before snatching the traveler and flying into the sky. What the Sluagh did not anticipate was the cleverness of the man, who upon seeing the fires of a home as they rose, ripped the stone from the demon's mouth, causing him to be released from its grasp. The traveler fell through the roof of the home and landed on the bed of a fair young maiden. Fashioning the stone into a wedding band, he proposed to the maiden who would soon become the progenitor of the Frasier family.

A happy tale one might think but the Frasier’s believe not so much. They believe that after deceiving the Sluagh, that their clan would be forever cursed and that a piece of the monster lived within the stone. Over the years, many of the Frasier men have suffered horrendous deaths but also great and powerful blessings.

Alistair Frasier was one to receive such a blessing. In the age of heroes and villains and black and white, Lord Alistair worked in the field of grey as an Agent in Her Majesty's Secret Service. Known as the Mist, Alistair had the gift of being able to transform his physical body into a gaseous substance which allowed him to freely move around areas without being seen and even make his way through walls, a preferred ability when killing people for the Queen. Alistair never wanted to be a hero and was certainly not a great lover of attention. When he met and fell in love with Martina Cole, a scientist for MI6, he believed that it was finally time to give up the gun and retire, a thought which did not last. The couple moved back to Alistair's native Scotland and settled in his family’s ancestral estate in the Highlands. Shortly thereafter, Martina gave birth to their only child, a boy they called Shephard.

Life at Frasier Manor was anything but normal for young Shepard, with both of his parents in demanding jobs which took them away from home a lot. This meant that Shep was essentially raised by nannies and family friends. This set off a deep rooted resentment for his parents that very much continues to this day. One thing that his parents did bequeath to Shep was a disciplined outlook on life, as such he has always poured 110% into everything he does. As a child, Shepard’s chosen vocation was his academics as he thought it would be the perfect thing to make his parents proud of him. A boy genius, he aced every class, passed every test and yet for his parents, it was never really enough. As he matured, Shep took to music as a way of channeling his growing anger and frustration. He found solace in the words of Bruce Springsteen and Kurt Cobain. He found a brother in arms with the guitar twangs off Keith Richards and he found a passion and meaning beneath the top hat of Guns and Roses Slash.

Things changed on Shepard’s sixteenth birthday when his father gifted him the meteorite ring that clan legacy says was the one from the Sluagh legend. As soon as he placed the ring upon his finger, a strange sensation rushed through his body and in a blink, Shep was on the other side of the room where his father once stood…wait? He was stood there. He glanced in the mirror and recoiled in horror as the visage of his father stood staring back at him. In a panic, Shepard soon found himself flying around the room as a cloud of mist until finally after several hours, he was back in his own body and his father, after calming down, explained to the boy what had just happened.

Alistair retold the Sluagh story to his son but with the added detail that the ring that Shepard now wore, had an uncontrollable effect on some of the men that wore it. Some of these men would develop abilities beyond that of mortal men and these abilities would always come with a severe drawback because of the demon that had cursed them all those years ago. Every Frasier needed to steal the life of another to keep their own going, the cost of doing business, Alistair called it.

With the emergence of his powers, Shepard began to feel even more isolated as now he realised that even basic physical touch could cause adverse effects to the people around him. To add to his growing list of issues, Martina, Shep’s mother, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour and the once brilliant scientist slowly began to lose her mind. Before her death, the last great thing she did was send Shep to Crystal Lake in the hopes that someone there would be able to help him and save him from himself.

⋙:Ａ Ｎ Ｙ Ｔ Ｈ Ｉ Ｎ Ｇ Ｅ Ｌ Ｓ Ｅ

____________________________________________________________________

• FC: Hero Fiennes Tiffin
• Dialogue Color: 838288
• Font: Trashbox
• Shepard is a keen musician and plays the guitar, drums and the piano.
• Shep wears headphones all the time, he’s not a talker.
• Due to the nature of his abilities, Shep’s training is focused on infiltration and espionage.
• Shepard works IT repair around campus and is often called upon to help fix training equipment as well.
• Never question Springsteen in front of Shep or he will slap the shit out of you. That is all.
• Energy Drinks & Craft Beer.

Edenridge

_{TIMESTAMP: Flashback, Sophomore Year
FT. Penelope James, Charlie Decker & Rhonda Decker}

____________________________________________________________________





____________________________________________________________________

Charlie and his books.

In typical Hard Times fashion, the lanky teen had decided to raid the Edenridge Public Library for the tomes of the ancients to unlock the secrets of the great and mythical past; a phrase which here means he grabbed a load of books pertaining to Eden history and family trees for a class assignment.

Beau had been feeling especially Beau-ish in their literature class and had assigned the students the task of finding their own story to present to the class, one pertaining to their own kin somewhere amongst the annals of Edenridge lore and folk tale. This would not be a difficult task for some, Edenridge had its fair share of ghost stories and a third of the class was descended from the men and women that founded their sleepy hamlet. One quick Google and that’s a passing grade for some people. Not for Charlie and Poppy though, if they were going to it, they were going to do it right.

Charlie himself was a story. The events of the previous winter and his poisoning of Allison Davies meant that he would go down in infamy the same way that his father had; murderer. Edenridge locals had done well to make sure that he and even his poor mother would never forget that fact. Charlie Decker, killer of innocence. James Strongbow, the preacher who burned down his own church with parrishers and choir boys inside. Charlie wasn’t going to give those people that looked down on him the satisfaction of talking about his own history. He would go further back and find a story that would honour his name rather than spit on it and he was most certainly going to avoid bringing her into this.

That wound was still very fresh, Mitena or Tena as she preferred was the sister Charlie never knew that he had. Around the time of Allison’s death, they had been assigned a genealogy task and he was shocked to find that his father had borne a daughter back home on the Blue Hill Reservation. He had only discovered her existence when the town was rocked by Ally’s death and Charlie was blamed. He didn’t really know what to do, so he held it secret, even from Poppy. She was his everything but a lot was happening and Charlie the wordsmith just didn’t know how to articulate himself. Finally, after an age, he wrote the girl a letter and to his surprise, Tena responded. After a short while, they decided to meet up in Boston with Ronnie and the tribal Chief Christian Coldwind as chaperones. For all intents and purposes the meeting went well and the newly discovered siblings held a lot in common. However Charlie was cautious about exploring more, he was already a target on multiple fronts and he really didn’t want to drag this poor innocent young girl into his dark world. Thus he kept her at a distance, still writing her letters but keeping her safe.

And was where he found himself on this fine day, writing his sister a letter whilst Poppy James sat on his bed, her head buried in the books that Charlie brought her so that she could research her family history.

“That little blonde girl was in the library again,” Charlie didn’t look up from his writings as he spoke. “That girl gives me the creeps. Very pretty but very creepy. Eyes like a snake just watching you as you move around the stacks. Shudder.”

“Jane?” Penelope glanced in her binder where she printed out articles about those in her family, on both sides of her family. James and Mooney. She was finding out quickly why her parents were no longer on talking terms with any of their living relatives. They both were crime infested but to different extents. “That’s what her name tag says. She doesn’t look like a Jane. She’s pretty sweet, heavy accent though.”

The past week Penelope focused on her James side. She found out her father has a dead brother, a living brother still at the trailer park not too far off from the orphanage, and a brother on death row. From what she gathered, they were patriotic and all served the military at one point in time, her father was an exception and chose to become a police officer instead. Sadly, their service was drowned out by all their bad deeds.

Before and after their service they all had an extensive history of legal problems and multiple arrests. She didn’t have access to the police database but based on the articles she found, she was sure there was detailed information there about each James man, including her father. All she had was new articles about each James boy, a couple instances revolving around all of them (theft). It was becoming clearer and clearer why her father leaned on the serpents. Hell, the brother on death row committed murder and the people that were killed were her grandparents.

This brought to light why her father talked so highly about the good times and the memory of his three friends: Reaper, Rusty, and Rooster. It started to feel like he filled a void with the SSS because his own family was beyond saving. His family thought they were cursed and played the white trash role given to them by the town. Beyond that? The James family were a poor family that had always been around but following the breadcrumbs past her father’s immediate family was near impossible. Hard to track the history of a family that never mattered.

The books she had opened were the yearbooks between the years of 1950 and 1954 and a book written in 1964 by Cadence Robinson called Sinking Soul, a ‘based on a true story’ romance-horror novel. A fantastical account on the murder of Karen Nowinski and an analysis of the mind of Gregory Mooney. Turns out Cadence was Karen’s best friend and was haunted by her best friend’s ghost. Without her consent, Cadence’s mother published the story which was originally a homework assignment. While it didn’t go beyond New England, it was a cherished cult classic in Massachusetts. “Did you find anything interesting, Charlie? I might need a goddamn shot after all this. I want to find one good thing! Not some psycho killer bullshit or money laundering scandal.” There was that too. Her mom’s parents laundered money for the cartel. Was she doomed like the rest of her family?

Lifting his head up from his private letter, Charlie leaned back in his chair. “Well,” He began. “I apparently had a great great grand uncle on my Mom’s side that may or may not have been on the Titanic, no one really knows actually. Wonder if he was Leo or Billy Zayne?” He put down his pencil just after finishing the final sentence She is the Captain of mine and slipped the note into his bag. “Oh and turns out I’ve got some family on my dad’s side on a reservation somewhere. Doubt they know I exist though, I imagine he was made Craven by the tribe for what he did.”

It was a cold fact that even if James Winters hadn’t started the fire that killed six people at St Paul’s he was still at fault. He couldn’t save them and he took his own life. It was dishonourable and it was cowardly and it was not becoming of a member of the tribe. It was never made clear to Charlie whether James knew that Rhonda was pregnant with him when he put that gun to his head. He had broached the subject a few times but his mother always had the same response: had he known, he wouldn’t have done it. Charlie, of course, had his doubts.

Ronnie poked her head around the slightly ajar door with a plate of steaming cookies and a big grin on her face. “Hey guys, I got some peanut butter cookies. Freshly maaade,” She sang. “Your favourite baby.” The beautiful older woman placed them on the desk next to her son as she glanced over at Poppy with her big green eyes. “And make sure to take some in a bag for your Mom, Poppy. Oh and take some for Mordechai too, that boy is skinnier every time I see him. Get it? See him cos I’m going blind? You get it,” She laughed to herself at her own joke as she watched her baby boy roll his dark eyes. “Ok I’ll go, keep hard at work Charlie Jay. Love you both.” She waved before departing again, making sure to leave the door as she found it, so she could listen in.

Penelope was quick to grab a cookie and stuff her face. She grabbed another one and placed it in her mouth when her eyes caught something in the 1954 yearbook. She would’ve responded to Charlie but his mom entered and she brought a yummy, yummy treat she couldn’t ignore. So, her mouth was preoccupied. With the cookie in mouth, she muttered, “No way…” In the sophomore year, there was a boy named Jonathan Carlisle-Mooney. Flipping through the pages fast, scanning it, she found a picture of Jonathan and Gregory together on the basketball court.

In this moment, her history got ten times worse. Frantically, the cookie dropping on her lap, Poppy grabbed her phone and looked up the name to find out any information she could on Jonathan. You gotta’ be shitting me. She found his obituary copied from a news article and posted on a website. Year 1986. He was the cousin of Gregory and his father was the FOUNDER of Edenridge National Laboratory. He died two years after his dad, Nikolas Carlisle, at the age of 48, and was a forensic scientist for the Edenridge Police.

Instead of taking a break, Penelope went into a full panic mode grabbing different books and flipping through all the pages catching onto the Carlisle name. It was because of her family… The Hangman… Last Night in Paradise... Nathaniel and Esther Carlisle… Aponi… that Charlie’s people… it was her family’s fault that…

Watching his love flick through page after page wasn’t really the turn on that some might expect to be for bookworm Charlie. He got up off of his seat and made his way over to the bed where Poppy sat, bringing his mothers cookies. He sat back down next to her, placing one supportive hand on the back of her neck and the other rested gently on her thigh. “You ok, what was that?” He glanced down at the pages that had swept Pop’s up into whatever wave of emotion she was currently feeling.

Carlisle.

It was a name held both aloft and buried six feet deep in Edenridge. A plaque long since degraded and downtrodden sat towards the centre of Main Street which had that name etched onto it, along with that of Callahan, Cleary, O’Brien and O’Hara. It was a name carried on buildings and indeed on the very street which the two teens grew up and were currently sitting on. Carlisle. Named for the Judge. The man who systematically eliminated sin in the embryonic town’s early years, including his own daughter if legend and folklore was to be believed. The man who almost single-handedly drove the Indigenous population of this land away from their ancestral home because he didn’t like the color of their skin. Carlisle. The source of the so-called curse of Edenridge.

Was Poppy a Carlisle? If that was the case, not only did that mean she was, quite literally, a part of the town but it also meant that if the stories were true, their ancestors were in love and that it was her family that stole everything from his. Of course that would be the case, it was Charlie and it was Poppy. Good shit never happened to them. Seemed like their progenitors suffered the same way. “Well shit, Pops. You’re a Foundling.”

“No, don’t say that,” Penelope closed one of the books and grabbed the deserted cookie she had abandoned on her lap before this discovery. “I really don’t need to stand out more than I already do by being Rocky’s daughter.” Taking small nibbles of the cookie, she leaned back on the bed frame, her body taking Charlie with her. Impassive and empty, she stared at the yearbook that connected it all. “How am I supposed to write about this? I don’t want people to know that I’m related to the fucking Hangman and Roman Carlisle who owned a sex trafficking operation and the infamous Clover killer Gregory. And worse! Nathaniel Carlisle. Literally the one that started it all.”

Finishing up her cookie, her dull eyes began to glint with color and life, saddening the more she realized how awful this was, “That’s all of the known history.” She glanced over to Charlie, her Charlie, and frowned. Were they doomed from the start? Love doesn’t fare well between a native and a Carlisle. “What kind of fucked up misfortune is that? Sorry but my ancestors killed your people and drove them out of town.” If people knew that, how would their opinions change? Being a foundling was one thing, but being a Carlisle held so much more weight than that. To her, that name was an evil omen. “Sorry but every other generation my ancestors find a way to nurture the goddamn land by watering it with someone else’s blood. Sorry I’m literally the legacy of evil.” It was clear as day that Penelope knew her Edenridge history. A little too well. And she truly believed Nathaniel Carlisle was the reason this town was cursed. Call her superstitious or whatever but not too long ago her sister was murdered, which felt like payback for some sort of wrongdoing. They say she committed suicide but that’s fucking bullshit. Maxine would never do that. Truly, her family was paying for their father’s sin and they would continue to do so for as long as they had Carlisle in their blood. With an absent mind, Penelope fiddled with her teardrop necklace. As Joseph Stalin said, a single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic.

“I mean…” Charlie wrapped his arm around the small young woman and let out a little half laugh. “I’d go and see a band called Legacy of Evil.” He used his free hand to grab one of his mothers cookies and bring it towards his mouth. “I know a thing or two about shitty legacies, trust me but here’s the secret; you might have some Carlisle blood in you and you might have some weird redneck James blood too but you’re also the daughter of a hero cop and a charity worker, sister to a badass and the light that stops me, Decky, Jade and a lot of other reprobates from turning full heel. You’re not your family Pops, you’re a good person…the best person.”

In true Charlie fashion, the teen demolished his cookie like a starved hyena, dropping crumbs all over his bed. Only this one was actually done for comic effect rather than the usual instance of him just being disgusting. “Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you. Shannon Alder.” The Serpent boy spoke, still with biscuit in his mouth. “It doesn’t matter that you’re a Carlisle, it matters that you’re Poppy.”

“And you’re a pig,” Penelope smiled, having watched him make a mess out of himself, as he devoured the cookie. She gestured around her own lips, to convey he had crumbs on his face which was kind of distracting. He couldn’t have eaten that cookie anymore gracelessly. Of course, she was used to it but now there was a trail of crumbs circling around his lips. Things had slowed down from their research, she could be in his presence and just stare. She was a fool for him and it could be read all over her expression. She adored him. She loved him. She needed him. Carlisle or not, Charlie was her everything.

Her green eyes went from his mouth to his eyes before chuckling, “Okay, okay. I’ll look at it more positively but I still don’t want to write about it.”

It was her, it was him, and they were alone on his bed. A normal thing in their routine and yet the older she got, the more she thought about the what if. What if she leaned forward and kissed him? What if.

Kiss her you idiot!

The words had rattled through Charlie’s brain so many times at this point that he had all but become numb to them. Why couldn’t he just open up and tell her? Tell her how she was the most important thing in his life. Tell her that she was his reason for getting up in the morning and going through all the shit that he did. Tell her that he had been in love with her since they were five and that she was everything he always wanted. Why couldn’t he just say the words instead of writing them on a page? Why?

“Well then we’ll just find something else,” He broke their shared gaze and returned his attention to the books string across the bed. “You know what you could do…tell them a story about Max. She was the best and kindest kind of person. I’m sure there’s something about her you could say. Something that would tug at the ol’ heartstrings.”

“Mm, I certainly could try,” Penelope rested her hand on the teardrop against her chest and brought her attention to the tomes laying before her. “It’s still kind of… fresh. One week I feel okay, the next I have her voice replaying in my head. I just try to imagine how it all happened and I can’t help but feel sad because she was supposed to have a future. I could see her become the next Beau. They’re both selfless people that want to help others through their love of literature.” Penelope grabbed her phone and went to her photo album, going to an old picture of Maxine with her, Charlie, Decky, Danny, and Jade. “She deserved to live. She was such a good fucking person. Better than me, that’s for sure.”

There would be no wedding bells for Max, no children, no chance to see beyond Edenridge if she ever entertained moving out. Truth be told, Penelope believed if Max was still alive, like their father, she would commit to her purpose and stay here, trying to help this town heal, even if it slowly killed her. Instead, she had none of that to look forward to and her death was quick, and hopefully painless.

“I loved your sister too,” Charlie lamented. “I remember sharing books with her and maybe stealing a few from her as well but she always knew. She always knew it was me and never said a word, I…” Before he could continue, he was interrupted by the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside counter. He moved his dark eyes to the screen and noted a slew of messages incoming, all from the same number. “It’s ReyRey,” Charlie sighed. “I’m supposed to be working tonight, we must’ve lost track of time.”

Pulling himself off of the bed, he stuffed his phone into his back pocket and started to gather things from around the room. Finishing his ensemble with his signature leather jacket, Charlie made his way towards the open window that forever linked him and Poppy. “Feel free to stay, do your research. Mom would love the company…oh shit.” Making his way quickly back to the bed, the native boy grabbed a load of cookies and lined his pockets with them. “She said grab some for Decky. She’d kill me if I didn’t.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Poppy’s forehead. “You’re Poppy James. Not Poppy Carlisle. You’re a badass.”

Another thing she was used to. Charlie having to leave during random times of the day. No matter, tonight was a good night and she got to spend time with him. “And you’re my Charlie... Stay safe out there and come back home,” to me.