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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.090: Anything but Blood

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_{Interaction(s): Haven @Skai}

Previously: Aren't You Supposed to Burn if You're a Star?

Rory didn't remember falling. He didnt quite remember anything that was happening. Dancing, music... a date. Then a monster. Right. Monster. Plan. Amma. But it was so hard to think with all the screaming. Someone was screaming. Someone was hurt. The roof was torn up. He was cold. Everything was cold. No, something was hot. His leg. Who the hell was screaming?

Rory shifted his arms and back, trying to prop himself up to survey his surroundings. As he looked down at the warmth, it was hard to register what he was looking at. Those couldn't be his legs. Legs didn't bend like that.

He tried to move his legs. He watched his muscles attempt to contract. Pain shot through him like a freight train, so much that his chest seized and he couldn't make a sound.

The screaming stopped.

He was the one screaming.

Rory's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell onto his back, more pain shooting up his spine. He had difficulty processing the complex signals running through his nervous system. He didn't notice the red tendrils licking the ground around him. He didn't notice the steam and dust coming from the melted ice and rotted debris around him.

Blood pumped through his ears, dulling most of the noise. Rory rolled his head to the side, his tear-filled eyes only able to make out faint impressions of shapes. Red hair, a sword. Monster. Fighting. Purple. Wings. Gunshots. Dragon. Red. Reaper. Frost. Wings. Wings. Wings.

Breath caught in his throat as a small shift in weight sent streaks of pain through him. When his breath returned, a shrill cry of pain erupted from his lips.

Haven was standing. What was she doing? She was speaking. What was she saying? Why was she... there was so much blood. The assortment of body parts were nearly unrecognizable. Nearly. As Rory blinked away tears, he had an idea of who it was. He only hoped it was a copy, but it seemed too real for that.

He didn't have time to dwell on much, as his eyes clocked quick movement. Haven. She was moving towards the monster. He couldn't quite hear her words, but he knew what she was saying. Rory reached an arm out in her direction.

"No.... Haven..."

Rory tried to shift his weight around, only to yelp before involuntarily stopping. He could feel his mind growing fuzzy, his vision seeming to grow dimmer. He didn't have much left in the tank. He raised his voice. It was the most he could manage. He could only hope those beautiful ears caught them.

"I need you." Tears continued streaming down his cheeks, snot bubbling out of his nose. "I can't lose you. Not again."

And then, in an instant, he broke. Gripped wings. Blood. Her blood. Haven crumpled to the ground. The wings were still in its hands. Rory reached a hand out, only to feel more pain and for the world to swim around him. His hands scrambled along the ground, searching for purchase to pull himself in Haven's direction.

But he didn't even stay conscious long enough to see the monster and the dragon disappear.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.077: Aren't you supposed to burn if you're a star?

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_{Interaction(s): Haven @Skai, Lorcán @Lord Wraith, Amma @Rockette, Gil @Roman}

Previously: I Care What You Think

The second there was a loud thud on the ceiling of the ARC, every ounce of anxiety in Rory’s chest came flushing out of his awkward form. It was replaced by a sheer, animalistic urge to survive. He ripped off his suit jacket, tossing it to the side as the large stone beast cut through the roof. His eyes turned to Haven, whom he quickly stood in front of and tried to shield from loose debris raining down. He felt small cuts and tears form through his shirt, and that familiar sting of pain that came from small wounds. When he turned his gaze back to the beast, the words sent him reeling in confusion. The last he knew, Haven didn’t have a kid. And if she did… he did not want to know who the father of that monstrosity could be.

Cass’s short lived attempt at heroics sent Rory’s mind spinning. That took out his first choice of power. His eyes turned up towards the hole in the ceiling. He looked back to Haven, ready to bark an order, before his eyes settled on her wings. She was still recovering. Flight wasn’t an option for her.

Shit.

Rory scanned his friends in the crowd, able to piece them from the scared students with ease. Blackjack had been through enough in the past few weeks, he couldn’t be the only one to expect something like this. If it were daytime, Banjo’s skill set would be ideal. Sight probably wasn’t going to do much for him. Density probably wouldn’t do much for him here. Teleportation could get Haven out, but fire probably wouldn’t-

Wait, where the fuck did they go?

Rory reached into his pocket, quickly opening his phone and hitting the phone app, managing to quickly call Lorcan and putting him on speaker before tossing the phone on the ground at Haven's feet. With any luck, he’d answer the phone. If not, it was a good thing improvising was Rory’s specialty. It only took a moment longer for Rory’s eyes to lock on to a certain force of destruction. He let out a small exhale, an inkling of a plan beginning to form in his head.

Rory turned his head back to Haven, his expression grave. “When you’ve got an opening, I need you to run.” He held himself back from embracing her: he had to act. This wasn't goodbye.

He turned towards Amma and Gil, and strode through the chaos towards them, giving the Tolkien-esque monster a wide berth. He was used to running through knotted paths in the forest paths on the island, and years of running and tripping made this a breeze. A rather cold breeze. The second he was within earshot of the former actor and resident enigma, Rory lowered his tone. “Alright… got any pointers, Addams family?” He lifted his hands, placing one onto each of their shoulders. “It’s not quite a dragon, but I think this is as close as we'll get.”

Beneath his touch, Amma immediately flinched, eyes panned wide and wild and feral, pain smeared through her expression with minor lacerations donned over her bare shoulders and dotted over one of her arms. She nearly snagged her fingers around his wrist, a warning curling against the ridge of teeth bared in an alarming grimace; for Rory to approach her only addressed the severity of the situation. He, who perhaps above all, did not trust her in the least, bore her marks, faint scars that even now she acknowledged with only a smidgen of guilt to prevent her gestures from prying his palm away from her skin.

“Yeah, get Haven out of here.” She stressed, taking a step back. Her eyes fled over and into the distance where Torres lay, a shattering of loss compounded by the trembling wrought through her fingers, burdened by small wreaths of red that sputtered and fell, likened to drops of blood. Amma searched through Gil’s gaze, held there, words unspoken woven between, an unknown flicker that plummeted through her eyes, something she had never known before, something that could not be placed.

Worry and fear. Concern dotted her lashes and the crease of her brow before she touched her forehead to his briefly and offered her attention back to Rory; a conviction blossomed there and wound through her annunciation with only a slight quiver in her voice to be found.

“That thing can’t take her, you know that, I know that. I’ll be fine. Get her out, get them out.” She flung out her arm, gesturing abroad, breath fogging white past her lips from the frigid cold that suddenly enveloped them.

A flicker of understanding flashed over Rory's face as he observed Amma and Gil, only to give way to a slight frown. He looked about the A.R.C., shaking his head. “I'd love to just grab Dove and duck out, but that didn't work for everyone else, did it?” Rory held on to Gil's shoulder tighter, turning his direction to the former star. His eyes were pleading, but his voice was steady. “No offense, Gil, but most of our heavy hitters are off-island, MIA, or can't be trusted.” He paused for only a moment, realizing the slip up in his words too late to retract them. But he just gripped Gil’s shoulder tighter and refocused, trying desperately to ignore the shake in his hands from the cold. “We don’t have time to wait for Jim and HELP. We need heat, and we need Haven out… with or without Lor and Ror. I’m sure the others are thinking the same thing.”

Rory turned his attention back to Amma, his voice betraying his strong words. “We don't do sacrifice plays here, Am, and I wasn't asking for advice on getting everyone out.” Rory took a breath, the creeping dread of the scene sinking in. The injured forms of Torres and Cass sent a shock down his spine. He glanced towards Haven, and his expression hardened with determination. When his eyes shifted back, any lingering doubts he had were gone. “I was asking for tips on being the dragon.” Even he had gotten the hint that Amma wasn’t the type for a reassuring hug or pat on the back. At this distance, he was close enough to get what he needed. It didn’t stop him from lifting a fist up and gently tapping her on the shoulder.

This time, she did lash out, hand turned in and manacled around his wrist, held tight with a tremor that shook up her entire arm.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Amma warned, voice turned low and writhing, a warning, a curse, a spell of the damned as she shook her head and tried to keep him from those energy particles that constantly fell to her influence and scoured through the world on the conceptual ties of the unknown. She knew the nature of his powers, and she felt the pull that seized her shoulder; the shuddering HZEs felt within and without suddenly rose as tides of crimson particles that amalgamated through her body, down the slender lines of her frame and sluiced betwixt flesh and bone. Silver and red wove as an intricate pattern, a coil of ebony that threaded through the center and poised there as a serpent ready to maim. The creature, monster, a manifestation akin to what lurked within the void – something Made. Something of the in-between. A growl of impatience sundered, a deeply seeded warning, a predator before prey that threatened to strike, and Amma regarded the Chernobog, those claws, and the hand proffered and said:

“It’s not a sacrifice. It won’t kill me.” She shook with adrenaline or fear; she knew naught which. “It’s here for me – for her – and –” Amma wavered, lashes lifted high and wide and eyes bright and shining where coils of red slid and snapped, a ring of hellfire within that burned. She looked at Haven, Harper, and even Banjo. She met Gil’s eyes for a long second. She looked unto Blackjack, noted those there and those not, and met Rory’s glare once again.

He had already made up his mind.

“It’ll hurt. It’ll be a pain you’ve never known: rage, hate, everything that is and could be and ever was. It’s death and destruction, to make something into nothing, to tear apart from within or to decay and rot.” From her palm, crackling energy sputtered and groaned, an esoteric resonation that cleaved through the world and surrounded the two of them in swathes of crimson tendrils, ribbons of black and silver that came up and over as the reaper stood there, a smile of bone and blood, blackened smiles shorn over a heart that wept– wrapped in chains.

“And whatever you do, don’t look into the void.”

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Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.069: I Care What You Think

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_{Interaction(s): Haven @Skai, Mary Tyler,}

Previously: Hawkward Memory

The night air cut into his lungs in a way he didn’t anticipate. He only now realized just how hot it had been at the dance, surrounded by other people the entire night. He moved away from the entrance, giving a small nod to some congregated cliques of seniors either leaving or taking a break from the festivities. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, welcoming the cooling relief. His thoughts were a little muddled and hazy. He should have eaten more, but he was more than used to the sensation.

Rory rubbed his hand, feeling a deep discomfort at his actions. He didn’t understand the strange man, and still didn’t quite understand how he could hear clothes. A disorder usually wouldn’t manifest that vivid, and he was dating someone who was part bird: the hype-gene manifested in mysterious ways, it seemed. Rory lifted a hand to rub the bridge of his nose, silently mouthing off a few numbers. He did not want to spiral that night, and opted to keep himself grounded as best he could.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone and immediately swiping through his contacts. Within seconds, he lifted the phone to his ear. After several agonizing rings, she picked up.

“Rory… aren’t you supposed to be at the dance? What’s wrong?”

Rory hesitated, desperately looking for any words to explain his situation or what he needed. Instead, all he could muster was a single word. “Date.”

Silence followed on the other line, before loud scratching and some static. He had gotten Mary’s attention. “Date? Hold on… you’re on a date at the dance?”

Rory shook his head. This wasn’t what he needed. “Yes, but-”

“Oh my god… wait, did you finally ask out Ka-”

“NO!” His response was a bit louder and more forceful than he expected. He couldn't bear to hear that name, especially not now. He immediately recoiled from his own voice, letting loose a flustered clarification. “No, no, it’s Haven. I’m on a date with Haven.”

The silence that followed was easily deciphered by Rory. He knew that Mary had put him on speaker, and was quickly scrolling through the photos he would often send of himself and Blackjack. She was trying to remember which one Haven was. “Is she… no, not the pilot… the girls with wings, right?”

“Yes, and-”

“She’s gorgeous.” This response elicited a small blush from the elder Tyler.

“I know, but that’s not-”

“How’d you guys-”

“I fucked up, Mare!” This outburst was not as loud and defensive as the last, but was filled with the same manic urgency.

“Already?” Her voice didn’t carry the same smugness that her twin would have given, and instead seemed more incredulous. “It’s been, what, an hour or so? What happened?”

Rory paused, taking a breath. “I… was a bit rude to someone she punched.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Hello?”

“I’m here. I’m just trying to figure out why that’s a problem.”

Rory shook his head, combing through the negative thoughts swirling in his head. But every time he opened his mouth, they felt ridiculous to say. It took him a few moments to gape out something intelligible. “He’s an awkward guy who talks to clothes. And it seemed like Haven put that behind her.”

“And what did you do that was rude?”

“I squeezed his hand.”

He could hear the deep breath on the other end of the phone before Mary spoke again. “Rory… you didn’t fuck up by squeezing that guy’s hand.”

“But-”

“You did fuck up by running away, not apologizing, and leaving your date alone so you could tattle on yourself to your sister.”

Rory was used to getting knocked on his ass. He had been steamrolled over by some of the strongest students at P.R.C.U. in a variety of sports. But Mary’s words always found a way to rip the wind from his lungs in a way no one else could. Before he could even try to muster up a defense, he heard the call end. She had hung up on him, and left him floundering for some form of external validation. Instead, he was left alone outside of the ARC. He slid his phone into his pocket, ran his hand through his hair, and walked back into the fray. He cut his way through whatever crowd remained near the entrance, where the sound wasn't quite as blaring as the dance floor. As he entered into the main hall, he turned his head around to try and find Haven. His heart sank a little as he didn't see her where he had left her. Maybe she had left-

“There you are, handsome. Sorry if I scared you, being gone so long.”

Rory's head whipped back to see Haven had slipped next to him. The smile on his face was immediate, but fell slightly as he observed her face. He felt that tightness form in his chest. He paused for a moment before he spoke, taking a deep breath. "No, no... I was just getting some fresh air... had a talk with my sister, and she really let me have it." His face contorted as he physically cringed at how dumb that had sounded, before shaking his head. He needed to focus, and the discomfort on Haven's face was a more pressing concern. "Sorry, did I miss something?"

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

The big thing that has eaten so much of my time last month was finishing out a 4 year long DnD campaign with over a hundred sessions. Invited everyone out to my place to finish things out and run a final encounter in person with a constantly shifting map. Took way more time doing the prep work and getting the house ready than I was expecting.

So the good news is I have way too much free time now to get back to Daredevil posts.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

I am alive and working on a post in the background. It is just a very busy month for me, so it's taking longer than I would like. Should have the next post out within the next few days, and be back to a more regular posting schedule once October rolls around.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

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_{Location: ARC Center - PRCU}

Dance Monkey #4.054: When Disco Plays Our Loon

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_{Interaction(s): Haven, Girlfriend @Skai}

Previously: If You Wanna Be My Plover

“What’s your favorite food?”

Haven passed over the twin snack she’d swiped from a passing tray. Her eyes were lit with the delight of holding such a small and meticulously crafted appetizer. Its tiny garnish only added to the fun of their food being served on a silver platter. She wasted no time in passing her own between her lips as they continued their way towards the buffet tables. Her eyes crinkled at the edges as each flavor hit her taste buds, looking to Rory so that she could see his own reaction as she savored each chew.

He tossed the appetizer into his mouth and began chewing almost immediately, giving his fingers a quick lick afterwards. His eyes scanned the dance floor, trying to make a note of his teammates in the crowd. He spoke through his last chews. “Hmmm… I mean, Poutine is a nice guilty pleasure. But I found a good recipe for a Buffalo chicken dip last year that is fairly low in calories.”Rory turned his gaze back to Haven, a soft smile on his lips as he noticed she had been watching him. “What about you, Dove?”

“I could eat a burger anytime, anyplace, but buffalo chicken dip is definitely up there.” She couldn’t deny the way her stomach started growling at the mention of it. “And honestly, anything to do with fries is amazing.”

She tucked in close to Rory as they passed between two groups of students milling nearby, her eyes taking a moment to follow where Rory’s had passed over earlier. If she noticed anyone from Blackjack within the crowd she didn’t mention it. She wanted to turn off that part of her brain that wanted to keep an eye on everything around her tonight. To allow herself to relax by minding what was right next to her instead. Her eyes moved to the buffet table as they approached, a smile growing at the sight of the spread before them.

“My stomach is telling me to fill a plate… or two.”

Rory grinned, eyeing up the spread himself. “Yeah, I haven't eaten much today… but I also don't want to get too full before we dance.” He tilted his head from side to side as he observed each platter and tray, doing calculations in his head. He gently lifted a hand up towards the small of Haven’s back as they walked, barely conscious of the move until the imperceptible jolt of energy that came from touching her. His fingers hovered for a moment, before his palm pressed against the fabric of her dress. His heart beat a tiny bit faster as he shared a glance with others nearby.“Besides… I've got some snacks back at the dorm if we're still hungry after.”

Haven turned her head to him, leaning into his touch as her eyes wandered over his face. The corners of her lips curled before she spoke in a hushed tone. “We’ll need them after we’re through with each other.” There was a mischievous spark to her eyes as she looked into his, and then she left him fumbling for a response as she turned to reach for a plate. “We’ll load up a plate and share, then we won’t get full before we hit the floor.”

Shock flashed through Rory's eyes, but his smile never wavered. Within a mere moment, he retorted with his own smirk. His eyes clearly drifted towards her hips as he spoke. “One plate works… I'm leaving room for something I want to taste later.” He turned his attention to the buffet table, the tiniest growl from his stomach reminding him to grab something filling.

Haven’s knees went weak in response, her dress suddenly feeling like too much fabric between her skin and his hand. His smooth words made her want to drag him to the bathroom to see what exactly he wanted to taste, but she pushed the indecent urge out of her mind by grabbing the closest tongs to them.

“What would you like to taste now?” She glanced at him with flushed cheeks and a grin before she turned her full attention to the table before them. They moved down it together, his hand a distracting presence against her back as she filled the plate with options both agreed to share. At the end of the table they paused so that Rory could fill two cups with punch. The space where his hand had been a moment ago felt naked as she stood with their plate held in both hands. Her eyes moved to the tables nearby and she was glad to find that some of the chairs were backless to accommodate any students with special needs like her own.

“Lead the way, hot stuff.”

Rory grinned, carving a path through their classmates while taking small sips of the punch. He sought out a mostly empty table, setting down the drinks before pulling one of the backless seats out for Haven to sit. He made a show of presenting it with his hands, before taking a seat himself and resting an elbow on the table. He closed his eyes and swayed gently to the music. "What kind of music do you like to dance to, and what kind of music do you like to listen to? Cause while I like to dance to EDM and classic pop, Katja got me into hard rock and metal for when I work out. But that isn't, like, dance music, you know?”

“Katja introduced me to hard rock and metal, too. Though I only listen to it when I’m lifting weights.” Haven smiled softly at the memory as she settled into her seat, although for a moment she worried where the blonde had been for the past two weeks. Something had been off about Katja since the trials. Her wings shifted behind her, as if releasing her worry through the action of tucking them closer to her back. She took another bite of the pork she’d put on their plate, thinking further on her music taste as she chewed. It would be better to answer his question, anyways.

“I could dance to anything, really.” She said after a minute, smiling at him as she noticed how he moved with the music. "But if I had to choose something to listen to while I’m flying or resting, I’d probably listen to indie or R&B. Something soft and peaceful, but nothing sad.”

Rory nodded as he continued to sway, watching Haven briefly as she ate. He observed the decorations, a slight unease felt at the thought of the scenery shifting before him. He half-expected this all to be another trick of the shared Hell they had experienced. His body tensed as that anxiety planted itself deep in his gut.

That anxiety was not lost as Haven spoke. His smile remained as she answered his question. It felt so… weird, to be asking such basic questions after everything. His eyes shifted to Haven's wings, and his mind swelled on the protests he had encountered on his way into the island at the start of the semester. The statement left his lips before he even realized he had voiced it, almost like a whisper to himself. “I miss when things were norm-.” He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth, cutting himself off and shaking his head. “Sorry, I just… I don't know, I just…” He hesitated, a question probing at the front of his mind. He grabbed at the closest thing on their shared plate he could. “Nevermind.”

Haven’s brows rose as her curiosity and concern grew with Rory’s hesitant words. Her fork hung between her plate and open lips as Rory’s flinch stopped her mid-bite. Her mouth slowly closed as she set the fork down. Should she pry? Should they continue onto a different topic to avoid any unpleasantness?

“Rory…” She began as her body shifted to face him. She reached out her hand to rest it on his knee, her body leaning in as she placed her whole focus on what he might say next. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Her eyes flitted between his, her next words resting hesitantly on the tip of her tongue for only a moment before she continued. “When you say normal… Do you mean like before the trial?”

Rory sighed, leaning back in his chair to shrink away from her slightly. He placed a hand absent mindedly on hers, as his eyes shifted to look out towards the crowd. “No… I meant like, before PRCU. Before Hyperion. Before…” He paused, closing his eyes as he thought to form his words. “If you could snap your fingers and wake up without the hype gene, would you?”

She blinked. The question caught her off guard. It hit her in the chest, and then settled into the bottom of her stomach amongst the liquor and what little food she’d had so far. “I… haven’t thought about that since I was in the girls' home.”

Her head tilted to the side as she studied him. Her hand shifted from holding his thigh, turning itself to slide her fingers through his. She ran her thumb over his, a subconscious instinct to soothe him and herself through the action. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it held the weight of the question between them like a wall that Haven was currently trying to lower. Her lips twisted, the memory of her teen years threatening to sober her up with heartache.

“When my wings began to grow, I hated them.” She admitted quietly, her eyes looking to their intertwined hands for further comfort. “I hid them, wrapped them to my back so no one would see them until they ached… But I can’t imagine my life without them now. I feel so free when I’m in the air. Like my life on the ground is a weight on my shoulders, and my wings allow me to free myself of it.”

Her smile was small and sad, until she took a breath and squeezed his hand. She looked into his eyes, a steadfast light shining through the gold and green despite her solemn expression. “They’re a part of me. I just wish that other people wouldn’t look at them and see the hype gene instead of who I am. Things would be a lot easier that way.”

Rory squeezed Haven's hand back, leaning a little closer. He looked to her wings as they spoke, nodding along. When she finished, he smiled softly, but his eyes still mirrored that faint sadness. “I understand what you mean. It's how a lot of us view it. And I find all parts of you beautiful, Haven. But…” he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes locked on their hands as he softly circled the back of her hand with his thumb. “I don't view it as part of me. It hasn't done me any favors. All the Hype-Gene has done for me is hurt everyone around me. Disease, violence, kidnapping… it's not normal. Not out there, and not in the same way.”

He noticed how a particular word affected Haven. How it made a muscle in her neck tick as her wings gathered closer to her back, her grip on his hand tightening ever so little as she was reminded of what she’d gone through. That light in her eyes dimmed as her gaze fell to their hands once more.

Rory squeezed Haven's hand back, sighing as he refocused. His eyes turned back to their hands. “I watched what everyone went through in the Trials… and the hype-gene has really only destroyed a lot of our lives.”

“Maybe I'd view it as a part of me if my power was mine. But I'm just a mirror. And not a good one. Most of the time I'm just as normal as anyone, and the only time anyone had interest in my powers it's to use them. So if you asked me a month ago if I'd get rid of my powers, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” Rory paused, finally choosing to try and maintain eye contact with Haven. This was a heavier conversation than he had wanted to have, but a part of him was content with this kind of vulnerability.

“After the past couple weeks… I don't know if I would. It still doesn't quite feel like part of me, and it feels like a curse. But it is also the only thing that gives me some kind of control on what's happening around us.” He moved a hand up towards Haven’s cheek slowly, his thumb tracing her cheek bone.

Haven gratefully tilted her head towards his touch as she allowed his words to distract her mind from what had been triggered within. She closed her eyes for a moment as she found comfort in the motions, her chest rising and falling with a soothing breath. When her eyes opened again, she looked into his blues with a soft, yet determined gaze.

“I’m glad you’ve changed your mind. You’ve done so many great things with and without your ability already.” She reached for his hand, taking it into her own as she moved it to rest against the skin on her chest. At the place where her heart beat a gentle rhythm inside. “I’m here because of you, Rory. You pulled everyone together to make it happen, and I will always be grateful for that. Whether you used your ability to do it or not.”

“I realized a long time ago that the only thing I can control is my heart. My actions. Good things happen, and terrible things do too, things I wish I could have changed or prevented, but when there’s nothing I could do or could have done I remind myself that I don’t want it to change me. I don’t let it.” She figured she was rambling now, and that sometimes her heart made terrible decisions too, but she didn’t let it stop her lips from moving. “I hope you don’t let what’s happened change you, Rory. I don’t think my feelings for you would change if it did, really, but-” Was this what word vomit felt like? “I just hope you stay the kind and caring man I’ve known. The one who always puts his best in even if it looks like he’s going to lose the game. Hype gene and all.”

Rory felt awful for the momentary excitement he felt as Haven moved his hand. But as she continued speaking, Rory's soft smile grew warmer. When she finished, he responded by leaning in closer. His kiss was soft, tender, and genuine in a way that words often weren't for him. He let the kiss linger, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “We're both going to change and grow, Dove. But I will do my best to be me, as long as you do your best to be you.”

Haven’s smile was wide as she pressed her forehead into his. She responded with a nod, her thoughts already fluttering away in the wind as his kiss left her dazed and warm inside. The touch of his skin against her chest shifted from a comforting pressure into something intimate and cherished. A physical lifeline between their hearts. She tilted her chin for another kiss, feeling her knees graze against his. Her wings relaxed behind her again. The heat of his hand slowly spread across her skin, traveling to her neck and further down to the pit of her stomach. Her own hand skimmed down his wrist until it rested on the edge of his sleeve.

She broke the kiss when the heat became unbearable. Her body leaned away from him with a sheepish grin on her face, the hand on his wrist gently moving his own away from her chest. “That’s just… It’s hard to stop when it’s that perfect.”

Rory grinned as his heart raced and his breathing had become a bit shallow. His cheeks were bright red, only partially due to the embarrassment as Haven had moved his hand. He fought the urge to close the distance again, settling to lean back and rest his hand on Haven's own knee as he composed himself. “Yeah, it's pretty hard.” He grabbed for the cup of punch taking a greedy sip. He wiped away the lingering droplets with his thumb as he continued.“Something tells me we aren't going to make it through the whole dance.” His playful smirk returned, as he reached for a small slider on the plate.

“Definitely not.” She giggled, still catching her breath as she reached for her own cup. She downed the entire thing, and traded the empty cup for the second slider on their plate. “I know a better way we can make the night last, though.” She murmured before taking a bite. She chewed slowly, smiling at him as she let the words linger between them. It was only when she was down to the last bite that she quelled his anticipation. “We just need the right song to begin with.”

Rory rolled his eyes playfully, downing his slider before standing up. He held a hand out towards Haven. “Only one way to find out.”

Haven happily discarded the last bite onto the plate. Her now free hand reached for his. She let him pull her to her feet, her heart already beating faster with excitement as he guided her towards the dance floor. Within the last few feet she couldn’t contain herself any longer, and she playfully took the lead as she pulled him the rest of the way. Her wings shifted between being tucked and untucked as they moved through the crowd until they found themselves at the center.

Rory gave Haven a little space as he let the music wash over them. His movements started a little stiff as he got started, but her smile egged him on. They let the world around them dissipate as their dance became more about making the other laugh and smile than being smooth and choreographed.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

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

D A N N Y P H A N T O M

@Lord Wraith

Is this your way of ghosting the RP?

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{Volume 1: Revelations}

---

^{Chapter 5: Contrition}

Matthew Murdock's feet collided with a thud on the wood flooring of the old church, pulling up his mask as he desperately sought to catch his breath. Police sirens wailed at the other end of the block, red and blue lights filtering in through stained glass windows. It was hard to tell what was sweat and what were tears on his face as he slowly walked down the main aisle. He could smell the faintest whiff of candle smoke and old wood. His hands brushed along each pew as he approached the altar, his head turned up towards the domed ceiling above the tabernacle. He stopped before the steps up to the Sanctuary, making a sign of the cross as he lowered one knee to the ground. A second knee followed, as he lowered his head. The sound of his grating teeth rattled around in his head as he suppressed a primal scream.

The Punisher had won. Most of the Saints he tried to save were dead. The psychopath was in the wind. He had saved one, but it didn't feel like enough.

Matt ran his hand over his face before closing his eyes and lowering his upper body to the ground. He prostrated himself, listening to the echoing sounds of his city.

"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart... In failing to do good, I have sinned against you."

♦♦♦

A man in a cowboy hat sat in the middle of Central Park, overlooking the lake as the Cherry Hill fountain gurgled not far from his position. He spent his time reading the newspaper, flipping through the pages. It was a quick skim, but enough to confirm what he already knew. Desmond's man had taken care of the evidence, and no one was the wiser. He didn't look up from his paper as a familiar, lithe man approached. "Sit down, Marston."

Sylvester "Snake" Marston took a seat next to the man, dressed in a simple hoodie and sweat pants. He always preferred loose and casual in environments like this. He eyed a few children tossing bits of bread into the lake, his foot tapping incessantly as his words nearly caught in his throat. "What are we doing here, Montana? Feeding the ducks?"

"I wanted to talk about last night without making you feel like I was going to double cross ya." Montana's drawl was comforting and inviting as he closed the newspaper, setting it to the side as he looked out towards the lake. "I know you're newer to the crew. Dan vouched for ya when he was in Rikers. But I've got a real simple rule you have to follow."

Montana looked to Sylvester, his eyes locked on his subordinate. The warmth in his voice had dissipated into grave sobriety. "No secrets."

Sylvester nodded dumbly, the fear evident on his face. Montana smiled softly, lifting an arm up to wrap around the Snake's shoulders, looking back out the lake and using his free hand to emphasize his points. "If ya do something wrong, ya tell me. If a complication arises, ya tell me." He paused, turning his sharp gaze back to Sylvester. His breath reeked of tobacco and whiskey.

"If the Devil shows up and sees what y'all are up to, ya tell me. Cause this is your warning, Marston. You, Ox, or even Danny boy keep something like this hidden from me again, there won't be a next time."

Sylvester nodded. "It won't happen again, Mr. Brice."

"I know. But just to be safe, Dan is coming with ya on the next one."

♦♦♦

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in the old office chair. The soft footfalls on the old carpet were like war drums in his head: confident, short stride, lead foot... Foggy. As the door opened, Matt was already closing the laptop lid and removing his earbuds.

"Just got off the phone with Detective North about ... the good old boys in Blue are calling it a wash. No DNA or fingerprints, No CCTV in the area, no witnesses coming forward. They've got nothing."

Matt tilted his head slightly. No DNA evidence... he was certain he had left blood at the scene. He was bleeding on his way out. The NYPD was known to cut corners on investigations, but there was no way they would have missed something that obvious.

This was bigger than he first thought.

"They're sweeping this under the rug again, and insurance is going to fight tooth and nail to claim it's fraud without a conviction." Matt spun the chair around, removing his red-tinted glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, a wave of anger boiling in his chest. "This is the third apartment this has happened in three weeks, how is this not a priority?"

"NYPD is too busy looking out for the guy who shot up the Stardust. Or whatever maniacs were involved in a car chase and gun fight in Manhattan." Foggy shook his head in disgust, his cheap windbreaker rubbing against itself from his movements. Matt always hated that jacket. He spun around in his chair, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, you don't get to complain. You called out yesterday, so I had to do boring paperwork all day while hoping a client would come waltzing in so we could pay for the office rent this month." Matt simply held up his hands in defeat, and Foggy shook his head. "So yes, I'm calling it a night. It's 6, my dad just got back from the hospital so my ma is having us all over for dinner. She specifically asked me to invite you, in case you-"

"Thank you, but not tonight, Foggy." Matt gave a weak smile, his expression darkening as he felt that well of anger rising like bile in his throat. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep it in. "It just doesn't feel like enough."

Foggy froze, his mouth agape as the wheels turned in his head. "We just have to wait and see... maybe hire a private investigator to keep an eye out, try and get some pictures... so long as they take seven bucks and a Bodega punch card as a down payment." Foggy smiled awkwardly, waiting for some kind of amused reaction from his friend. It never came. "Right... look, Matt... you should get some sleep. We'll regroup in the morning, see if we can work out a game plan."

Foggy gave Matt a soft smile before leaving the office, with Matt waiting until he could hear the front door to their shared office space close. Matt nimbly slid open his desk drawer, removing the set of blood stained clothes and bandana.

He wouldn't fail this time.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

_{Crossover Special}

---

^{Part 2: Running with the Devil}

"I'm giving you one chance to back off. These men are mine."

Matt Murdock gripped his remaining tonfa. His head was cocked to the side, focusing on the echoing noise and commotion. Two dead. More coming with guns. The man in front of him, he didn't know the voice. But he was fairly certain he knew who this could be. The slightest shift of metal components made it clear he had his weapons drawn on him. Matt slowly holstered the remaining tonfa on his hip, keeping his free hand raised.

"I saw your work at the Stardust." Matt's voice was steady and calm. The men down there didn't stand a chance if the Punisher focused back on them. Matt focused on Frank's every single twitch, body poised and ready to dive behind the nearest air-conditioning unit. In the meantime... this was just any other cross-examination. He just needed to throw Castle off balance. "Is this your idea of serving and protecting now, detective? Making orphans and widows?"

Frank scoffs. "Serving and protecting? I gave that up. These men deserve what's coming to them."

"That's not how justice works, Frank." Matt listened as the remaining Saints had made it to the base of the building. He was running out of time. "It's not up to a single person to decide who lives and dies."

"What, you going around beating them down is justice? You put them in the hospital, you put them in jail, then what? They get out, they're back on the street, they destroy more lives. I'm making sure they don't." Matt heard banging from the base of the building, then a thud as the Saints kicked the front door down. "You want to stop me? Better do it quick. We got four angry greaseballs coming our way."

Matt flexed his fists. "I give them a chance to change, Frank. A wakeup call, and a warning. The same thing I'm offering you. I'm giving you the chance to walk away before anyone else gets killed." He lowered his arms to his sides, then slipped his hands into his sleeves to grip the small throwing knives stored in them. "What'll it be, Castle?"

Frank sighed, almost masking the sound of his twin pistols brushing against their holsters. "Afraid I can't do that, mister devil. You're a good guy, so I won't put a round in you. You might wish I did by the end of this, though." Frank broke into a sprint, running right for Matt.

Matt Murdock dove out of the way of the charge, slotting the knives back into their sheathes as he rolled into a crouching position. He unslotted the tonfa from its holster, and jumped into the air off the AC unit to deliver an overhead strike towards the Punisher. The Punisher brought his arm up to block the strike, the tonfa coming down hard on his forearm and sending him stumbling back. Snarling like a rabid animal, he threw a wild haymaker at the Devil. Matt leaned back nearly 90 degrees, the fist nearly clipping his nose. He gripped the handle of the tonfa tighter, and quickly punched the pommel towards the Punisher's gut as he shot back up into the melee. "You hide behind a gun, Castle. Without one, you're nothing."

The tonfa collided with Castle's gut and he fell to a knee with a groan before collapsing onto the rooftop. "Maybe you're right," he said, rolling onto his side. "But I'm not the only one that does." As if on cue, the rooftop's door slammed open, the four remaining Saints pouring out of it and waving their guns around. Castle whipped out his pistols, his fingers tensing against the triggers as he took aim at one of the men.

Matt didn't have time to think. He didn't have time to deliberate on what to focus on. In that instance, facing down the barrel of four men and a psychopath, his body moved on instinct. Matt kicked at Frank's pistols, trying to veer the bullets away from their marks as his hands slipped into his sleeves. Matt turned his back to the thugs, producing two throwing knives as he gave Frank one last look. He called out, "He killed your friends." A simple message, but hopefully enough to goad the thugs into firing. The second Matt heard fingers on triggers, he dove out of the line of fire. He rolled behind cover, his focus primarily focused on Frank.

Matt heard a heartbeat, one that remained calm even as the bullets flew through the air and rained down on the A/C unit. One that was getting close... Very close. Matt felt a body bump into him and then a voice, "Good idea. Now we're both stuck up shit creek without a paddle. Think you can take these guys on with that little baton of yours?"

The Devil sighed as he slipped his hands back into his sleeves, producing two small throwing knives. "Not quite." He took a breath, waited for the hail of bullets to pause so the Saints could reload, and then quickly rolled from behind cover. He flicked his wrists forward, launching the knives into the upper thighs of two of the Saints. He wasted no time as he rushed forward towards the two who were quickly slotting in new magazines into their rifles. Matt swooped in to the closest Saint, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and using his momentum to wrench the gun forward slightly. The Saint resisted, trying to pull the rifle back to gain control. Matt smiled as he then dipped the barrel down slightly and then pushed upwards. The butt of the rifle slammed into the grunt's chin, knocking him stumbling backwards and letting go of the firearm to clutch his face. Matt tossed the rifle behind him, closing the distance with the second Saint. He was a little slower than he would have liked, managing to kick the rifle up into the air at the last moment before the Devil was shot in the air. The gunshot leveled near his head sent Matt reeling backwards, instinctively clutching at his ears. He couldn't sense anything except the lingering ringing.

He didn't hear so much as feel the vibrations of the bullets in the air that followed afterwards. He was still standing and wasn't feeling the sharp pains of bullets striking his body, so he had to assume the worst: Castle was taking them out. As the ringing slowly died down and Matt's faculties returned to him, he could sense that only one man was left standing, about fifteen feet away from him. The Saint wasn't facing the Devil but rather had his gun aimed at the Punisher, the two men both ready to fire at each other.

Matt grit his teeth, his body moving on instinct. His left hand clutched at the small, portable grappling hook fastened to his belt. The other hand unhooked the tonfa. He launched the tonfa at the remaining Saint, throwing it hard towards the man's temple. With the other hand, unfurled a sizable length of cord. He spun his body, swinging the grappling hook in a tight vertical circle to build momentum. By the time he faced Castle, he had launched the grappling hook towards Frank's leg. As it wrapped around and the metal barbs dug into his skin, Matt yanked on the cord to literally pull the Punisher's leg out from under him.

Frank fell to the floor with a shout, his head bouncing on the concrete. He growled lowly, half in pain and half in rage. "Gotta say, you're a tricky bastard, mister Devil." Another gunshot, then a *SNAP!* as the bullet flew through the grappling hook's wire. Frank rolled backwards, coming to a stop in a kneel as his hand fiddled with something on his belt. "But I got some tricks up my sleeve too." One arm came up to shield his face as the other arm threw out a small grenade that rolled to Matt's feet before exploding with a deafening blast.

By the time Matt was able to regain his senses, he was met with a flood of noise. Police sirens were drawing near. A fast pumping heartbeat was already trying to rush out the back entrance of the building... but that wasn't the one he was looking for. The Punisher was gone, without a trace. The lack of any other motion nearby confirmed what he feared to be true: the others were dead. Matt knelt down next to one of his tonfas, next to one of the corpses. He felt the man's face, closing the corpse's open eyes. He screamed out, slamming a fist into the roof. The sirens were getting louder and louder. He had to leave. Matt fetched his tonfas and booked it downstairs.

By the time the police arrived, the Devil was gone.

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

_{Location: Canis Dorms, P.R.C.U. Campus}

Dance Monkey #4.030: I Don't Think I Can Fight This

^{_{____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

_{Interaction(s): The Bros}

Previously: I Confess, I Messed Up

Rory slammed his laptop lid closed, rubbing his temples. He had specifically scheduled his classes so he wouldn't have to work on Fridays. Unfortunately, "my friend's keep nearly dying" wasn't a good enough excuse to delay essays more than a day and the last thing he needed was another reason for Jim and the faculty to be disappointed in him. He glanced about the room, sighing as he felt small whirlwinds circle his stomach. The room felt empty when he was the only one in it, in a way it never did before. He picked at the dirty clothes strewn around the hamper, tossing back in the accumulated laundry of two people. He lifted up the hamper, hoisting it out to the laundry machine.

While the clothes washed, Rory plopped onto the couch in the living room. His eyes darted towards Lorcán's door, that empty feeling weighing even heavier over him. Rory had never visited him in the hospital. He had went to visit Gil, but couldn't bring himself to walk in. From what the others said, odds were Gil would have just told him to fuck off if he had. It didn't make Rory feel like any less of a bad friend, though.

Rory felt his phone buzz on the couch next to him, and he picked it up while sprawled himself out. The smile formed on his lips before he even fully processed who it was from or what it was. A very cropped picture of a bit of green fabric, a sneak peek at what Haven was wearing to the dance. He reacted to the image with a heart, before locking his phone and tossing it on the ground next to him. The warmth he felt from her text barely quelled the rising currents in his chest. If anything, the storm raged harder.

Why was he able to step up for Haven, but not his best friends?

There was an easy answer to that.

Rory curled up on the couch, his skin feeling too tight and restricting on his body. Some deeper, animal part of him wanted to rip apart the flesh to let the emotions and spirit of him fly free. His breathing was shallow and quick, and he had to clench his hands into fists to maintain some grounded physical sensation.

He should have visited Gil, even if he was going to be an ass about it. He should have seen Lorcán before he was discharged, and made sure Aurora was ok. He should have closed and locked the window the night Haven was kidnapped. He should have pieced together that something was wrong with Katja sooner. He should have felt more sympathy for Amma. He should have tried to find Harper before the Trials scarred her. He should have checked in on Harper to make sure she was ok. He should have checked in on Banjo and Calliope. He should have been the one that was taken. He should have been the one who was attacked in the Trials. He was the one who should have been nearly killed. Why hadn't it killed him? Why did they want him? He was a bad friend. He was a bad teammate. He was a bad leader. He was nothing. He was nothing. _{He was nothing nothing nothing nothing}

Rory shook in a heap on the living room floor for what felt like hours. A soft buzzing from the phone a few feet from him roused him from the spiral. He clenched his hands into tight fists, digging his nails into his palms and counting down from ten to slowly bring him back to Earth. He wiped the tears from his eyes before reaching for his phone, checking the notification on his lock screen. He hated that his heart sank when he saw it wasn't from Haven.

I'm picking up booze on the way over. Little bit of everything.

We're letting loose tonight.

Gil

It took him a minute to process the message, before just closing his phone and setting it back down. He lifted himself up into a sitting position, back leaned against the couch. Gil knew that he didn't drink, and neither did Lorcán. But as Rory felt the colossal weight of his failures bear down on him, the purpose of his sobriety felt meaningless. Everyone knew he was an idiot, everyone knew he made bad decisions and said the wrong thing. At this point, who was he trying to fool?

Rory slowly picked up his phone, sighing as he lifted it up and sent a message to the guys.

“Gotta celebrate you two being back and recovered!!!”

Rory

A soft, sad smile formed on his lips. It wouldn't make up for much, but it was a start. In the meantime... he was going to need to get back into therapy. He shot off a quick email to his aunt, checking her schedule to see when they could next meet. Once that was settled, he leaned his head back against the couch. He took a deep breath. If they were mad at him, they would say something that night. Until then, he had to get ready. Clothes first, then he'd find the party hats and streamers that were somewhere in the shared storage.

Rory slowly pushied himself up to his feet. He swiped back into his text conversation with Haven, getting a good look at the shade of green. He shuffled back into his room, laying down on the ground and pushing around a bunch of balls, sporting equipment, dirty socks, and power bar wrappers until he felt his hand rest against a handle. He pulled out the old, small briefcase and hoisted it onto his bed. He stared at it a moment, not caring to look at the engraving on the side before unlatching and opening it. Inside was some old H.E.L.P. stationary, an old thermos, and a small assortment of neatly rolled up neckties. They were of varying shades and designs, though none were outlandish or novelty. The briefcase was one of the few things Rory kept of his father, unable to bring himself to toss it.

Rory pulled out his phone, checking the two green ties to Haven's choice of dress. He finally settled on the closest match, a simple green tie with gold diagonal stripes. He removed it from the briefcase, setting it down on the bed, before a small reflective glint caught the corner of his eye. Nestled in the briefcase, among the varying ties and assorted office supplies, was a gold tie clip. He lifted it up, running his hand along the engraving. It wasn't anything much, just four engraved letters. He set it on the bed next to the selected tie.

After all, he could use all the H.E.L.P. he could get.