Crow's Fanfics

[Pirate Queen Crow]

Same as with the gallery - this is where I'm going to put all my fanfics that I don't mind everyone seeing...

Title: Stayin' Alive
Characters: (in order of appearance) Joker, Amelia Blake, Matthew Reid, Jim Gordon, Michael Smith (who I will be making at some point - his face claim's already reserved)
Rating: U or PG. I'm not sure which.

---

Joker was furious. Someone had gone after him and Gordon. No one went after them if they knew what was good for them. He watched the news as the blonde on screen reported about someone being dead. The same someone who had gone after him and Gordon.

"The criminal, Michael Smith, is dead. It is suspected that he committed suicide at roughly the same time as Commissioner Jim Gordon was shot."

Joker growled loudly and practically threw himself out of his chair. He couldn't even get Michael Smith back for it. That wasn't fun. That wasn't fun at all! Shooting a near-by goon, Joker snarled softly and left to blow something up.

Amelia was curled up on the sofa of Matthew's apartment. Her eyes were glued to the television. Matthew walked into the living room with two cups of hot drink - coffee for himself and hot chocolate for Amelia - and watched the reporter as she spoke.

"It is, as of yet, unknown who shot the commissioner, though it's suspected to have happened around three hours ago."

Amelia took the cup from Matthew, though was close to running out of the flat. She just needed to know where Jim was. Was he in the hospital? On his way there? And how had he been shot, anyway? The only other person there had, apparently, committed suicide...

"Police are investigating the situation and ask for anyone who has any information to come forward."

"I wonder where he is..."

"Probably Gotham General." Matthew stated, shrugging softly as the news reporter began talking about a Wilson Kenny Dennis Queen who was the head of Wayne Enterprise's main competitor. Matthew put his coffee on the coffee table in front of the sofa and walked to the dresser next to the kitchen door. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a map, which Amelia soon realised was of Gotham. She raised an eyebrow as Matthew sat next to her. "He was... There..." He pointed to one of many rooftops visible on the map. "And Gotham General is the closest hospital to there." He stated, looking at Amelia. She gave a nod and stood to get her coat.


"Jim, we need to know what happened..."

The figure was pacing on the rooftop, his hands in his trouser pockets, his gaze on the view across the city. Jim walked forward, his gun trained on the figure as he paced.

"You got here, then?" Asked an Irish voice. The owner didn't turn to the commissioner. He merely continued to pace. Continued to move back and forth. Back and forth on the rooftop. "I was worried the clues wouldn't be good enough. Worried you wouldn't guess the story." He continued, not waiting for a response or reply. Jim moved forward carefully.

"People have died, Smith."

"That's what people do!" The figure shouted, turning on Jim now. "Did you guess the story?" He asked, sounding curious, his gaze turning to the rooftop.

"Sleeping Beauty."

"Was it easy?"

Jim nodded.

"A little."

"But it took some thought? Some Googling?" He asked, smirking as he looked at the commissioner. Jim nodded again.

"Some thought."

"The golden thread and needle wasn't enough?"

"We were looking for a tower."

"If I'd meant a tower, I would have given you a blonde wig."

A moment of silence passed the pair by as Jim thought and the figure watched.

"Rapunzel."

"Oh, aren't you good?" He asked, sounding rather pleased. He grinned at the older male, keeping his hands in his pockets. "I'm impressed. I bet your friend helped, though. That knight." He continued to watch Jim. Continued to capture every single detail of him, of his movements, of his twitches. Watching the way his eyes flicked from the figure's face to each of his pockets, the way that he kept his gun trained on his target while looking for anyone else on the rooftop. Anyone else waiting for him. "I bet he's waiting, isn't he?" He gave a laugh. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!" He called out, his voice high pitched.

"He isn't here."

"Of course he is. You wouldn't have come here on your own. Far too cautious." He took a step towards Jim, though went back to pacing again a moment later. "Is he going to play by your rules?" He asked, his voice turning sing-song, the words practically dancing from him in the wind. He paused as he seemed to watch them rise, though there was nothing in the air, before he blew and looked at Jim.

"He isn't here." Jim repeated, taking careful steps forward, keeping his gun raised.

"I'll come quietly, if you come here."

Jim paused, frowning.

"I don't have any reason not to. Only be found not guilty."

"They'd convict you."

"Do you know how easy it is to get into twelve hotel rooms?" The other man asked, raising his eyebrows. He gave a smirk. "How easy it is to find out about their sister... Their mother... Their..." He looked at Jim, the smirk having disappeared. "Daughter." His gaze was fixated on Jim as his gun lowered.

"What have you done to her?"

"How is little Barbara?" He asked loudly, almost talking over Jim. "Little Barbara Gordon, playing a game with the grown ups, wanting to be like her father. Her dear, old father."

"If you've hurt her-"

"Hurt?" He interrupted, frowning in questioning before shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't hurt her. Joker's better at that, and frankly I don't care for it..." He trailed off, rolling his eyes. "What is it like in your funny, little brain? Is it relaxing?" He asked, tilting his head to one side with narrowed eyes. "I do have to wonder..."

"I swear..." Jim began, moving quickly over to the figure and grabbing his collar.

"Maybe I should have gone for the other one." The man mused aloud, freezing Jim in his actions. "Not the daughter - that's too obvious - but that blonde. That little blonde playing agent. Little blonde playing agent with that masochist of a doctor."

"Amelia..."

"Oh, that's her name? I was beginning to wonder." He frowned, nodding along with his own words. "I should have gone for her..." He said, looking at Jim with widened eyes. "Her or that doctor. He is handsome, isn't he? Oh my, that would have been fun..."

"You're going away."

"I am?" He asked, his hand moving to his jacket pocket and pulling out a gun. Jim stepped back, realising he'd dropped his minutes before. "Shall we place a bet on that?"

He raised the gun, placed the barrel inside his own mouth and pulled the trigger with a grin. His eyes twinkled for a moment before his head kicked back and he fell to the grey rooftop. Red liquid spread from the back of his head. His eyes stared up at the sky. Jim stepped back, sighing. Another gun went off, the sound of its firing ringing through the air. The bullet ripped through Jim's side. He stumbled and fell to the ground next to the man. As he did so, a song began to play...

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Stayin' Alive. Stayin' Alive."

The body began to move next to him, sitting up, touching the back of his head gently while getting a phone out of his pocket.

"Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Stayin' Alive! Alive!"

The music cut off.

"Yes? Bring it up."

The man stood over Jim, leaning towards him as the elder seemed to be gasping to the sky.

"Does it hurt? You know, I've got a little money set up. This could be fun... Return from the dead... Watch everyone panic." He gave a laugh once he'd finished talking. "Now I know how Joker feels..."

"How-"

"Fake gun." The man sung, holding up the gun. "Everyone'll find a real one, though. Bullet..." He looked up at the direction the bullet would have gone. "That way..." He looked back at the commissioner. "And little Jim Gordon bleeding out." He grinned. "^Suicide and a _{dying cop}." He was singing the words again, going from high to low while doing so, his gaze remaining on Jim's face. Two men joined them on the rooftop.

Jim watched them put a body down. It looked like the man standing above him.

"Did anyone see you?"

"No, sir."

"Good! Wouldn't want them to know..." He gave a laugh and looked at Jim. "It's been fun, you know? So fun. I can only imagine how they'll feel... The daughter... The officer... Even the knight... Knowing their king is dying..." He looked thoughtful before shrugging. "Even the jester. The little court jester with his funny green hair and clown-like face." He laughed again. "Bet he'll want me... Probably to put a bullet through my head... Too late for him, though..." He gestured to the other body. "I've already done it."

"He was alive?"

Jim gave a weak nod, watching them as they exchanged glances.

"And this is Mister Wilson Queen - twin of Michael Smith, who owns WKD Queen Industries..."

"That's him."

"That's his brother."

"He doesn't have a brother..."

The officers looked to each other again and left the room as Jim watched in almost horror as 'Wilson Queen' began talking about how it felt for his 'brother' to have died and how it felt to be the owner of Wayne Enterprise's biggest competitor...

[Michael Smith]

THIS IS UNFINISHED. I'll finish it when I wake up... Trouble is that I'm really tired now so everything's going to go out of character... Enjoy anyway!

Title: I don't have one yet. Will figure one out at the end.
Characters: (In order of appearance thus far) Matthew Reid, Amelia Blake, Ryan Morgan, Michael Smith.
Rating: U. No swearing, no violence, a little kissing but that's just between Matthew and his love. No, not Ryan; Amelia! XD

-------------------

"So, your friend's moved from Vegas..."

"And he thinks we should meet up."

"And you want to..."

"Yes?"

"... When?"

"Tonight..."

There was a pause.

"It's William's birthday."

"I know! I said that but then I remembered..." Matthew bit his bottom lip. "He kind of hates me."

"No, he's just..."

"Grieving."

"Exactly."

"And a teenager... I didn't even get on with teenagers when I was one..."

Amelia laughed.

"I've gotta go..."

"What? No! Matthew, we need to discuss-"

"I'm sorry! I need to go."

Matthew left the room to go to a session with James, now slightly wary of when he'd next see Amelia...

--

At the end of the day, Matthew left Arkham with his head down. He had a sneaking suspicion that there was going to be a rather persistent Amelia at home and was trying to figure out the best way to explain why he'd left the conversation abruptly. He didn't have too much of a chance to figure it out, though, as Amelia stood in front of him as he left the large, imposing gates of Arkham Asylum.

"You hung up on me."

Matthew froze and looked at Amelia with wide eyes.

"Are you being Captain Obvious?" He asked with a hint of a joking tone to his words. Amelia's eyes half-closed, making Matthew look at the ground. "Sorry... I had a session with a patient..."

"And they taught you how to be an ass?"

Matthew looked at Amelia with an insulted frown, opened his mouth then closed it before shrugging softly.

"Actually, William did that..." He mumbled before adding quickly: "Reid. William Reid." Amelia's expression turned to one of realisation. She then nodded softly while Matthew frowned. "His birthday isn't until tomorrow..."

"We celebrate the night before, too."

Matthew raised an eyebrow at her.

"You have unusual traditions."

"And your 'going quiet for a day' isn't unusual?"

"Actually no... I was very quiet during high school..."

Amelia narrowed her eyes, unable to tell whether he was being serious or not. Upon deciding that he was, she shook her head.

"You still hung up..."

Matthew looked at her innocently, making her almost melt on the pavement, and looked her in the eye. God damn it, he was cute. Amelia bit her bottom lip to not 'awwwww' aloud and instead pinched his cheeks while wondering when he'd started doing that. Matthew winced softly, ruining the innocent expression for a second while she giggled.

"You're so cute!" She practically squealed before pecking him on the lips and giggling a little more. "And I'll forgive you if you do one thing." She stated, bopping him on the nose with her index finger. Matthew recoiled slightly in surprise, though pursed his lips while narrowing his eyes in thought.

"What?"

"Stay in tonight." She grinned as she moved so that they could walk. Her hand interlocked with his and she continued to grin up at him.

"I haven't seen him since leaving Vegas..."

"And you'll see him plenty."

"It'll only be a few hours..."

"Which will teach William that you can't be trusted to turn up."

"... It's a family event."

"Ha! Don't even try that one."

Matthew pursed his lips again. Amelia could almost hear his brain working to think up a reason. The expression fell from his features and he smiled softly.

"Ryan!"

Amelia's head snapped round and she saw... Oh my. Her eyes widened a little as a tall man, who obviously worked out at least a little, turning towards the pair in curiosity as to who called his name. His mouth turned into a grin.

"Pretty" He began, striding towards them. He clasped a hand on Matthew's shoulder, continuing to grin. "Boy." He finished, chuckling a little. Matthew's cheeks flushed red at the name and he looked at the ground before looking at Amelia.

"He's your friend."

"Yup."

"Ever since high school, ma'am."

"Amelia." Matthew all but hissed to Ryan.

"I'm sure she can tell me, Pretty Boy." Ryan grinned at Matthew and looked back to Amelia before taking his hand off of Matthew's shoulder and holding it out for Amelia to shake. She did so and Ryan seemed to wink at her. Now it was Amelia's turn to blush. "And who are you?"

"Wha-"

"In relation to Matt here." He cleared up, not taking his eyes off of Amelia while Matthew looked around as though expecting something to come down the road.

"Oh! Um... Girlfriend."

Ryan's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You really don't have to be so surprised." Matthew spoke up, seemingly amused by Ryan's expression. Ryan tried to recover casually with a chuckle and a grin, though Amelia was already giggling a little.

"You're not exactly gifted..."

"Eidetic memory..." Matthew almost sung, smiling at Ryan. Amelia moved to hide behind Matthew while she tried to stop laughing.

"Okay, Smarty Pants, lemme correct it..." Ryan smirked. "Not exactly gifted with women."

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"You mean I haven't had any one night stands."

"I mean you've only had one girlfriend."

"So have you! My sister!"

Amelia burst out laughing at this, making Matthew turn around to look at her. Ryan seemed to be trying to think up a comeback to this.

"At least she didn't get pregnant."

Matthew looked at him and pursed his lips.

"She did dump you though."

"Oh my god, please stop!" Amelia called out between laughs, now gripping Matthew's arm in order to not fall over.

"Are... Are you okay?" Matthew asked, frowning while moving the other hand to her arm gently.

"I think she's laughing at you..."

"Or you for getting dumped by Jane..."

Ryan glared at Matthew, though smiled at Amelia a moment later.

"Can I borrow him tonight? I need to kill him."

"Don't do that. Jane'll come after you and I'd hate for her to hurt herself while trying to kill you." Matthew said to Ryan casually while making sure Amelia was okay. She gave a nod, which Matthew replied to with a nod and looked at Ryan with a grin. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"I just saw a whole new kind of conversation there..."

Matthew frowned with confusion while Amelia giggled a little.

"Don't start me off again..." She requested, giggling again before coughing to stop herself laughing anymore. "So... So you're the friend from Vegas..."

"Yup, Ryan Morgan... Officer Ryan Morgan, actually, but... Day off."

"Oh, you're an officer? I wonder how that happened." Matthew joked, smirking at Ryan slightly. Ryan grinned.

"You'll have to wonder, Boy Genius."

"How many names do you have for him?"

"Millions."

"Never ask him to list them. Jane and I did once, we were there for hours." Matthew told Amelia, eyes widening as he said the word 'hours'. "And he kept forgetting them..."

"Lucky you didn't." Ryan grinned, clapping a hand on Matthew's shoulder again. Matthew shook his head while smiling a little. Amelia tugged on Matthew's sleeve gently and the trio began to move down the pavement.

"You want him to go out tonight..."

"Yes ma'am. Try not to get him home too late, I promise."

Amelia looked at Ryan thoughtfully before nodding. Matthew's jaw dropped.

"You say yes to him but not me?" He looked mildly insulted while Ryan laughed behind them.

"The day I imagine you topless..."

Matthew looked more insulted at this and turned his gaze to the road again while Ryan laughed a little louder.

"Shut up, Ryan."

"Ooh-hoo, Pretty Boy's jealous."

"Of what?"

"The Hunk, here."

"More like the Hulk." Matthew mumbled under his breath, making Amelia giggle next to him. Ryan slapped the back of his head.

"The Hulk heard that, Pretty Boy."

Amelia put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles while Matthew shook his head with a small smirk of amusement.

--

"Don't forget your phone!"

"I have my phone."

"Are you sure?"

"Would you like to phone it and find out?"

Amelia paused, staring at Matthew. His hand was on the door handle, though Amelia nodded.

"Good idea."

Matthew almost groaned with impatience as she ran off to find her phone. Why the hell had he suggested that?

"Okay!"

"Oh, wait, it's on vibrate..." Matthew fished it out of his pocket and, instead of hanging up, answered the call. "Do you believe me now?" Matthew asked, watching as she walked back into the room and laughed.

"Okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure." She said, hanging up and looking down as she walked over to him. Matthew smiled.

"It's like you don't trust my memory..." Matthew commented as she put her arms around his neck with a little difficulty due to their height differences. Amelia made a noise of dismissal and rolled her eyes.

"I trust it, I just don't always believe it..."

"Same thing..." Matthew mumbled as the pair leaned towards each other for a small yet loving kiss.

"Don't get drunk..." Amelia requested, her lips brushing his. He nodded.

"Do I ever?"

Amelia snorted and shrugged.

"One day you might..." She said softly, kissing him again. As they pulled away, Matthew shook his head gently. "And don't forget to be safe. You know what Jim said."

"I highly doubt he's going to do it tonight..." Matthew commented quietly while looking at the floor. "There's a one in three hundred and sixty five chance this is the date he'll try anything..."

Amelia looked thoughtful before she looked at Matthew with an expression of somewhat wonder, somewhat thought.

"Three hundred and sixty five?"

"How many days in a year." Matthew answered casually, sliding his phone back into his pocket. Amelia looked a little surprised.

"Oh..." She mumbled before tilting her head back. Matthew looked at her with a frown. "Duh! I should have known that." She shook her head as she let it fall forward before looking at him as he smiled, obviously amused by her. "Go! Begone, dear one."

Matthew laughed and nodded.

"I know when I'm not wanted..." He joked, grinning as he walked out of the door. He smiled at her and the pair shut the door behind him.

--

"C'mon, Pretty Boy. We've got at least an hour before your bedtime." Ryan said loudly, grinning at Matthew as the pair walked down the street.

"I don't have a bedtime, shut up." Matthew grumbled, pulling a face. Ryan laughed and put a hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"Oh yeah? Amelia's got you on a leash."

"I'm going to slap you in a minute."

"Bet you can't hit harder than Jane."

Matthew looked at Ryan with pursed lips.

"No... I probably can't..." He admitted with a nod before brushing Ryan's hand off of his shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"You're the genius, you tell me."

Matthew looked mildly disapproving before sighing softly and looking ahead of them.

"Given the overgrown plants in front of us, we're near Wayne Tower." He stated before smiling smugly at Ryan. Ryan chuckled.

"Yeah, okay Pretty Boy. How'd you figure that you?"

Matthew pointed at the previously mentioned overgrown plants.

"Caused by Poison Ivy, must be Robinson Park." Matthew answered, smile still planted on his lips. Ryan laughed while looking ahead of them before his gaze turned to Matthew.

"Fair enough..."

Matthew grinned and shook his head with amusement. Ryan chuckled softly and moved ahead a little, giving Matthew cause to frown in questioning.

"What?"

"This looks like a place..."

"Most buildings do..."

Ryan laughed and looked at Matthew.

"Touche, Pretty Boy..." He almost mumbled, looking back at the building. "Lemme rephrase that, then... This looks like my kind of place."

Matthew's frown deepened.

"What can you possibly mean by that?"

"Look at it."

Matthew looked at it and laughed when he realised.

"No."

Ryan looked at him questioningly, holding his hands near his shoulders in the body language for a question.

"Why?"

"It's a club."

"And?"

"No."

"C'mon, you ain't scared of a club, are you?"

"It's not fear, it's social anxiety."

"Oh, there's a difference?" Ryan asked, raising his eyebrows. Matthew looked at him with an expression of not being very impressed. Ryan chuckled softly. "Okay, Boy Genius, where should we go?"

"I don't know..."

"And this is the only place we've found..."

Matthew looked uncertain, biting his bottom lip softly as his hands went to his trouser pockets.

"I'm sure there's somewhere else..." He mumbled, making Ryan chuckle again. "Stop laughing at me!"

"Paranoia, Matthew. That's what that is; paranoia."

"Shut up..."

Ryan shook his head and looked around him, away from Matthew. As he thought he saw somewhere else, he heard a yelp from Matthew's direction and turned to look at him with surprise. He was about to ask why the other man had made the noise when he saw an arm across Matthew's throat, a gun held to the side of his head as he looked at Ryan with wide, surprised eyes, his hands held up in a sign of surrender.

"Don't do anything except what I say, dear court knight."

Who the hell was this guy?

"Who are you?"

"Tell him, doctor."

The gun was jabbed against Matthew's ribs, making him shift slightly to get away from it.

"His... His name's Michael Smith. He's-"

"A criminal."

Matthew gave a nod, though the shorter man behind him laughed.

"So simple... Just like you, I expect."

He took his arm from around Matthew's throat, though the gun had returned to be pressed against his head. Ryan momentarily saw a shine of something reflecting light and thought it was a knife until he saw the man's hand grabbing Matthew's wrist. As the hand came away to pull Matthew's arm behind his back - with a lot of wincing from the taller man - Ryan realised that it was handcuffs.

"Do the same to him..."

"How is he-"

"Not him..." The man snapped as someone else came from the shadows. A tall man with curled black hair stepped forward to handcuff Ryan. "Him..." He said simply, keeping the gun pressed against Matthew's head. "Do exactly what I say, and you might see tomorrow..."

The man grinned at Ryan as he was handcuffed and dragged towards the pair, made up of Matthew, almost seeming to hang his head, and Michael, still holding Ryan under the threat of Matthew being shot in the head. "And you might see the dearest again, too..." He said before chuckling softly and getting out his phone while the other man held onto Ryan's handcuffs tightly, ensuring he wouldn't get away. "Get it round here, now."

Whatever was said on the other end seemed to anger the man.

"Get here, now, or I will skin you." He said, his pronunciation rather precise. He hung up with a smile. "They'll be here soon."

--

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Matthew Reid]

Title: A Day in the Life...
Characters: (in order of appearance) Evelyn, Adrian, Amelia Blake and Matthew Reid. Mentions of Jane Reid.
Rating: PG13 for swearing.

---

There was hurried chatter coming from the kitchen as a small blonde girl spoke loudly to her brother and mother, twirling her spoon in the cereal. Her mother laughed softly and nodded along while her brother stared at her with a rather vacant expression. A moment of silence passed before...

"Mom! He's staring again!"

Amelia turned to her son and laughed at his expression.

"I think he's trying to catch up with what you're saying. Your dad does that too."

The young girl smiled proudly and swung her legs while shoveling a spoonful of her cereal into her mouth as the previously mentioned - and previously missing - parent walked into the kitchen. He looked at the boy and paused, his gaze turning to the young girl as she chased one piece of cereal around the bowl.

"Did you break him?"

"He's catching up." Amelia answered instead of her daughter, who was now stabbing at the cereal with her spoon. "Don't break the bowl."

"Or the spoon."

"That's impossible." The young boy finally spoke up, frowning at his father. Matthew raised an eyebrow and looked at the boy.

"Actually spoons can be broken. Magicians do it sometimes when 'bending' a spoon. If you continuously bend it at the desired point..." Matthew paused while picking up a near-by spoon and pointing to where the bowl of the spoon met the handle. "Eventually it will break." He stated while now bending the spoon gently as though about to demonstrate. Noticing this, Amelia grabbed the spoon from him and shook her head.

"Do not teach them how to break spoons."

"They'll learn eventually..."

"Not from you."

Matthew shook his head while pursing his lips before mouthing 'I'll show you later' to the children.

"No you won't!"

Matthew's mouth opened as though about to speak, though he seemed to think better of it when Amelia turned around with a cup of coffee in one hand and a spoon she'd just been using to stir it in the other. Matthew's mouth closed and he looked away from her before moving to make himself a cup of coffee.

"Does it work with anything else?"

"Probably. Anything thin enough to bend, anyway... Keys, cutlery..."

"Not ours."

"That's stupid anyway."

Matthew frowned while pouring milk into his cup and looked at her.

"What is?"

"Magic."

"Not..." The boy mumbled, looking at his bowl and watching the cereal floating in the milk.

"Yes it is. It's not really magic."

"Illusions count as magic." Matthew spoke up, pushing his glasses up his nose while putting the milk in the fridge as Amelia joined the children at the table.

"Why?"

"Because magicians do it, idiot."

Amelia tapped the boy on the arm.

"Don't call your sister an idiot, Adrian."

"You're in shit now."

"Language, young lady."

The girl looked at her mother and huffed.

"Auntie Jane uses it..."

Amelia looked at Matthew as he sat opposite her and he bit his bottom lip.

"She's an adult."

"Don't act like one."

"Hey! Stop it."

"Yeah Evelyn."

"And you!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Matthew, please say something."

Matthew looked surprised at having been called on and almost choked on his coffee, having been taking a sip at the time.

"What?!"

"They're your children too."

"Yeah dad!"

"Yeah Matthew."

Amelia tapped Evelyn's arm as a warning and Matthew shrugged softly while sinking in his seat which all three of the others had come to know as the 'I'm not getting involved' posture.

"Helpful." Amelia commented while smirking softly. Matthew pursed his lips.

"Shut up..." He mumbled into his coffee, blushing a little now. Evelyn looked at her father while pursing her lips.

"Not allowed to say that." She said finally, breakfast forgotten.

"You do." Adrian countered quietly, turning his blue eyes down to his bowl again.

"Fuck you."

"Language." Matthew warned, though it sounded more like an observation than a warning.

"English."

With an unimpressed look at his daughter, Matthew shook his head and sat up.

"You've gotta talk to Jane about this..."

"Or not."

Amelia stared at Matthew and raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Evelyn grinned while her brother seemed fascinated by the entire thing. Matthew took another sip of coffee while trying to hide behind the cup in order to not catch Amelia's eye and not reply.

"Fine. I'll talk to her."

Matthew almost spat his coffee out at this.

"No! No."

"Bull in a china shop." Evelyn commented with a grin while going back to chasing the cereal around the bowl. Amelia looked at her daughter and sighed while shaking her head before she looked back at Matthew, who was once again hiding behind his coffee.

"Did you hear that?"

"Of course he did but he's too much of a-"

"Anyway!" Matthew interrupted loudly while putting his coffee on the table, ignoring Evelyn's somewhat put-out expression as he did so. "When are you going?"

"Want to get rid of me already?"

"Rude to interrupt."

"You're rude." Adrian blurted out, looking at his sister. Evelyn looked at him.

"You're a butt."

"You're a buttface."

"I hate you!" Evelyn screamed across the table. Both of her parents jumped at the scream, though Adrian didn't seem at all effected by it.

"Good! No one wants to be liked by you!"

Evelyn paused for merely a second before she began moving to get at her brother. Matthew moved to pick her up easily while she wriggled in his grip as he stood and stepped away from the table with her.

"I'll kill you!"

"No, you won't. Bad idea. Very bad idea."

"Calm down! Adrian, for the love of God, say sorry."

"No. I'm not sorry. Not sorry at all."

"Adrian, do what she said."

"No!"

"Are you sure you have to go?" Matthew asked while continuing to hold onto the squirming seven year old in his arms. Amelia nodded.

"As much as I'd love to stay home..." Her gaze flicked from Evelyn, still trying to get out of her father's grip, to Adrian, who was sitting almost calmly with his spoon in his hand, before she looked back at Matthew. "But I need to go in."

Matthew nodded with almost understanding before turning Evelyn to face him and kneeling down in one movement.

"Calm down. Please?"

"Go to hell."

"Yes, I probably will anyway. Please calm down?"

Amelia laughed softly at his reply to his daughter and glanced at the nearest time piece before nodding to herself.

"Gotta get going."

"I beg of you to stay." Matthew said while trying now to get the blonde girl to look at him. Amelia laughed and shook her head.

"Love you, and you, and you. Please calm down. Don't cause your dad too much grief. Be home later!"

"As long as we've got one..."

Amelia nodded at Matthew's words with a grin of amusement before seemingly running from the room. A moment passed before the front door slammed shut.

--

Eventually, peace and calm settled over the kitchen and the trio were at the table again. The children had finished their cereal and they were all now talking about a subject they were rather knowledgeable about: Harry Potter.

"But in the film, how does Fluffy not wake up?"

"Because it's magic."

"Nuh-uh, otherwise they'd manage it normally."

Adrian paused and pursed his lips in thought.

"How does it happen in the books?" He asked and both children looked to their father for the answer. Matthew didn't notice as he thought back to one of many readings of it.

"Peeves and his 'sing-song' voice." He stated and the children looked stumped for a moment.

"Peeves wasn't in the films." Evelyn voiced after a moment. Matthew nodded along.

"Which is why the books are better, among other reasons..."

"Such as?"

"The Marauders are explained." Matthew began.

"Fred and George's exit."

"The entire first chapter of Philosopher's Stone."

"Very last line."

Evelyn looked back and forth, from her brother to her father, as they spoke.

"Beginning and end of most of the books."

"All of the smaller details."

"Certain characters deaths."

"Certain characters."

"Who?" Evelyn asked, frowning in questioning.

"Peeves,"

"Headless hunt,"

"Winky the house elf."

"Winky?"

"Crouch's house elf."

"Ah."

Matthew nodded before finishing his coffee and looking at the pair.

"Both of you in the front room."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

"Are you going to scare us?"

"No."

Both of the children ran into the living room as Matthew put anything that needed washing into the sink to be done later then joined them.

"Well?"

"What?" Matthew asked, stacking up a number of drawings on the coffee table.

"Why're we here?"

"Film?"

The pair grinned and nodded before Adrian frowned.

"Which one?"

"I think we decide doofus."

"Don't start with the name calling again."

"Wasn't me last time."

"Idiot."

"Fu-"

"No."

Evelyn froze at being interrupted by her father again and crossed her arms over her chest while jutting out her chin.

"Ass."

"Don't call him that."

"If you keep on, there'll be no film."

"Fine. Hate them anyway."

"Die!" Adrian yelled and stood up to jump on his younger sister. Matthew practically dived around the coffee table to stop this movement and ended up holding Adrian off the ground.

"Stop. Both of you."

"It was him!"

"This time." Matthew stated, his gaze on Evelyn as Adrian hung limply in his arms. "That doesn't make you any heavier, Adrian." He added casually before turning as though proving this point. Evelyn stood up slowly from the sofa and rolled up a near-by newspaper while watching the pair.

"Maybe he's a pinata..." She said while swinging her arms back as though about to actually club a pinata. Matthew pulled the newspaper from her hands wordlessly and shook his head.

"Can you both please behave? I know it's hard for you, but try anyway."

"Not hard for us!" Evelyn argued and got a look of 'are you kidding me?' from both Matthew and Adrian.

"Hard for you."

Evelyn screamed through gritted teeth as Matthew put her brother down and turned to them both.

"You are seven and ten, can you please start acting your age?"

"I am."

"No, you're acting like a three year old. You didn't even act like this when you were three." Matthew replied, looking at Evelyn again. Evelyn raised her eyebrow challengingly, reminding Matthew a lot of Amelia whenever Matthew suggested she couldn't do something.

In fact, both children looked a lot like their parents... Evelyn looked more like Amelia than Matthew, while Adrian looked more like Matthew than Amelia. The only difference between Evelyn and Amelia, though, were their eyes. Amelia's were a rather fantastic blue while Evelyn had her father's brown ones. As for Adrian, he had their mother's blue eyes.

"I hate you." Evelyn stated, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Wonderful." Matthew practically drawled, the word dripping with sarcasm. This was definitely going to be a long day...

--

After half an hour, in which time everyone finally managed to calm down again, the two children picked a movie and so watched Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone quite happily. It was only once the film ended that hell seemed to break loose again as Evelyn began jumping around the living room.

"I am a witch!"

"Explains a lot..." Adrian mumbled under his breath, making Matthew smile with amusement.

"If you're a witch, then how do you know it?"

Evelyn paused before frowning. Matthew watched her as she thought before she made a noise to go with it.

"Magic."

TO BE CONTINUED

[Pirate Queen Crow]

A small little thing I wrote... Hope it's okay... Warning: someone gets shot and there's a small description of how it feels to be depressed so if you're triggered by either of those then don't read. Otherwise: Enjoy!

"You think I won't kill you? You're wrong, dear Prince..."

"No!" Jane screamed as the gun went off. The bullet tore through her brother's forehead and skull. The killer let go of his throat, watching with a sort of grim enjoyment as the corpse dropped into a heap. Jane ran forward with Amelia and collapsed next to him as a large, dark shape took the killer down. Amelia knelt next to the body, watching almost numbly as Jane hugged him close. "No... You were all I had left..."

"It... It'll be okay..." Amelia tried, watching Jane's tear streaked face turn to her.

"He's dead! How could this be okay?!" She demanded harshly, anger seemingly taking the place of sadness. Amelia's gaze turned to his face, watching a trickle of blood sliding down the bridge of his nose. She shook her head, unable to really process what had happened.

"I... I'm sorry. I don't know..."

That had been months ago. Months had passed. The funeral had been awkward and rather dreadful. Jane had broken down while giving a speech about her brother, Amelia hadn't been able to continue talking when she realised she would actually never see him again and only a handful of people had come anyway... The song had seemed fitting, though...

"I know, I'm no Superman."

"No. If you had been you wouldn't have died from being shot in the head." Jane commented bitterly as they left the small venue for the funeral. Amelia tried hard not to laugh, though couldn't help a small smile curving her lips. Jane glanced at her, a knowing smirk pulling at her own lips. "Too soon?"

"Probably." Amelia answered, nodding while her smile grew with amusement. Jane laughed softly, wiping at her eye.

"Matthew would've liked it. No such thing as 'too soon' with him..."

Amelia laughed and nodded.

"Too true..."

Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed softly. She wished she couldn't remember it happening. She wished she couldn't remember what had led up to it. She wished, more than anything, that she had a rewind button. She didn't, though. She couldn't fix this. She couldn't forget it, either... It was days like today that she wondered how he'd been able to cope with remembering every single second in detail...

"You won't kill me."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because if you were going to, you would have done it already."

Amelia bit her bottom lip, wishing he'd shut up. The criminal was angry. His dark eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

"You're like Joker..."

"How so?"

"Can't wait."

Jane shifted next to her, seemingly nervous. Amelia was sure she was having the same thoughts as her. Why couldn't he just shut up?!

"Wait for what?!"

"For a reason to do it."

The hand dropped from his throat but he didn't move. He seemed to be counting down to something. The gun raised and he ducked as it fired. Stumbling away, the doctor looked at the criminal as though surprised that he'd gotten it right. Amelia felt herself smiling until she saw the hand going up. He seemed to have seen it at the same time, though couldn't get away from the other man quick enough to stop it tightening around his throat again, this time with them facing each other. His anger and fury was evident this time and the doctor looked scared.

"Let him go!" Jane shouted, her voice angry and sharp. The criminal looked at her, his hand tightening as the gun pointed at the doctor's forehead.

"I don't think I will..."

"Do it."

The criminal's gaze turned back to the doctor. Amelia shook her head silently. He was being too confident. She knew the criminal would do it. She knew he was angry and wanted to prove it...

"You think I won't kill you? You're wrong, dear Prince..."

"... And Barbara's bringing Richard home more often..." Jim was saying, though Amelia wasn't listening. He sighed softly and shifted in his seat. Her gaze fell on him.

"Hm?"

He smiled gently.

"What's wrong, Amelia?"

"I... Nothing. What were you saying?"

There was silence for a moment. Neither of them spoke before the smile dropped.

"You're thinking of him, aren't you?"

Amelia bit her bottom lip before nodding.

"Are you sure you're ready to be back at work?"

How many times had she been asked that? And not just by Jim. By Jim, by Jane, by Ryan, by Dylan... Hell, even Joker had asked it the week before when they'd arrested him. Admittedly, she probably wasn't ready, but she didn't want to go back to how she'd been with John. The despair. The darkness. The seemingly never-ending pit of sadness. The walking shadow that removed happiness from her life... She didn't want to go back to that. She couldn't go back to that. She might not make it out alive if she did... This was the easiest way to prevent it.

Nodding, Amelia smiled softly.

"Of course I'm ready..."

[Matthew Reid]

Title: I have no title for this. sorry.
Note: this was written while listening to Crying Butterfly by Rammsnake on Newgrounds. Newgrounds has some amazing instrumental music and I was quite lucky to find this a week or two ago while trying to find instrumental music that might give me muse for June's Prompt Story. I found it easier to think of what to write by closing my eyes and listening to the song on repeat so the first bit and odd bits through this were written with my eyes closed and I haven't edited this in anyway so if there's typing mistakes then that's why. ^_^

Enjoy!

---

Storm clouds built up overhead, rain fell heavily through each clap of thunder. The dark clouds rolled across the sky with grace, drenching those below with icy water droplets that dropped like tears. The sky's sadness touched everything that stood beneath it, making all that it touched drown in its clean tears. Clean water mixed with salty tears as they hit one person's face. The graveyard around them was soaked. Graves that hadn't been touched by human hand for years were being washed of decades worth of dirt and disrepair. The grass, though thick and healthy, seemed to bow under the weight of the rain and a lone figure stood just out of reach of a tree's shelter. He was looking down at a recent grave, not moving and not making a sound. His hair drooped around his face in a cold, wet frame. His hands rested in the pockets of his dark grey coat as he continued to look down at the grave, his head bowed with mournful guilt.

Lifting his head silently, his gaze remaining on the headstone at the other end of the grave, he took deep breaths of the moist air around him while barely seeming to notice the storm raging around him; the sky roaring above him, the clouds dropping their salt-less tears over everything below, the wind making the rain seem colder than it actually was.

"I... I'm sorry..."

His voice barely broke through the sound of the falling rain and the growls of thunder from above. It probably wouldn't reach the ears of the person he was talking to, due to their inability to hear and the inches - or feet - of earth between him and them. His head bowed again and he closed his eyes, rain running down his face and mixing with ignored tears. Minutes turn into an hour as he stood, looking at the grave with apologetic sadness and eventually another person joined him at the foot of the grave. The new figure put a hand on the first's shoulder gently and the pair looked at each other.

"Are you okay?"

The first figure looked back to the gravestone before he nodded gently. His face told the other figure that he was not okay, but neither spoke for many minutes. The rain continued to fall on them and everything around them. The grass continued to bow under the weight. The thunder rolled over head with aggressive loudness that usually would have torn peoples' gazes to the sky with worry of lightning. Neither figure moved, though. Neither figure spoke. Neither figure seemed to be more than a statue - more than one of the stone angels that stood above the dead - for many minutes. It was only as lightning flashed in the distance that the second figure spoke.

"Let's go."

The words were followed by movement that time seemed to have been building up to. The pair moved between the graves, making their way across the wet yet healthy grass and towards the exit as the skies continued to pour their physical sadness onto the city below, touching everything and everyone with the salt-less tears of the clouds...

[Pirate Queen Crow]

Title: [None]
Characters: Silas Mortimer, Michael Smith, unnamed lawyer, unnamed agents, unnamed police officers.
Notes: This is based on my image things of Silas/Michael plot. It ends a little bit weirdly because I cba to type anymore and it's almost (read: gone) four am... Which is why I can't be bothered to type anymore.... Enjoy Michael being a shit!

3188 words!

---

It had been many months since their first meeting. Many months since the offer. The offer of making him a hero. He'd had a bad feeling about this, but things were quiet now. He'd been on a mission since then. Just one mission. Just one, small mission. Silas was walking the card he'd been given over his fingers slowly, watching it as it flipped over the flats of his fingers. The name on it didn't look right. Malcolm Anderson Leficent. He couldn't figure out what looked so wrong about it, but it looked odd. It looked a little strange.

He stared at it without really seeing it before glancing around. He wasn't doing anything really. He was just waiting. Just waiting for the next mission. Looking at the phone in front of him, Silas sat up while placing the card on the desk and picked up the phone. Placing it against his ear, his gaze turned to the numbers on the card as his fingers pressed them on the keypad. The ringing on the other end began and continued for what seemed like forever until it stopped suddenly and a familiar voice came through the line.

"I thought you might call."

Silas considered hanging up, though he couldn't bring himself to do so. He took a deep breath and nodded, trying to ignore the fact that his voice had been smug. He was so smug because Silas had phoned him, because he'd known. The Englishman could only wonder what else the Irishman knew other than what Silas had told him.

"What can you do?" The agent asked, leaning on the desk now with the phone pressed to his ear. There was a chuckle on the other end, sending dread through Silas momentarily. "Don't laugh at me, just answer." He snapped and the chuckle stopped. He could practically hear the man moving on the other end of the line.

"What do you want?"

He could hear the smirk. He could hear how pleased the other man was - how gleeful he was. The feeling that this was a terrible idea came back with the urge to hang up, though Silas ignored it once more. Another agent walked passed with a small smile and Silas smiled back while thinking. He didn't know what he wanted. He'd take whatever the other man wanted to do. He hunched over the desk a little and sighed softly while running a hand through his hair before his gaze fell on the card on the desk. Putting it in his pocket, he sighed again.

"I don't know."

Less than a second passed of silence from the other end before the familiar voice returned.

"The next mission that's mentioned to you, take it."

A tone sounded and Silas realised that he'd been hung up on. Looking at the phone, he frowned while thinking of how abrupt it was for the other man to hang up before his thoughts turned to the last thing the other man had said. The next mission. How could the Irishman know what the next mission would be? That was impossible. He glanced around with the thought that the short man was in the area before he shook his head. He was probably in Gotham right now... So how would he know about what the next mission?



Days passed with no missions. Days of silence from Mister Leficent. Nothing said to Silas to do with work. After almost a week, Silas was awoken by his phone ringing. He looked at it with tired eyes and reached out to it before answering. Letting his head fall onto the pillow while holding his phone against his ear, Silas sighed softly while rubbing his face before even considering answering.

"Hello?"

"Come in, Agent Mortimer."

Nick Fury's voice woke Silas up properly and he sat up, not paying attention to the cover as it fell into his lap.

"Pardon?" He asked, frowning while climbing out of bed and beginning to get ready. He placed the phone on speaker while looking for clothes and pulling them on as he found them.

"There's a mission. Malcolm Leficent needs to be caught and brought in."

Silas froze while doing up a tie. His gaze turned to the phone and he thought for a few moments before reaching into the pocket of his trousers. They were the same ones he'd been wearing the same day he'd phoned him. The same ones he'd put the card back into. Taking the card out, Silas moved over to the bed-side table and picked up a card hurriedly before placing the card on the surface and looking over the initials. It was so obvious! M A Leficent. Maleficent. Silas ran a hand through his hair and looked at his phone, realising that Director Fury had been talking for the past few minutes.

"Will you take it?"

"Yes. Yeah. Where do you need me?"

"We're sending you the address now."

Silas nodded to himself while staring at the card before shaking his head. Ending the call, he continued to get dressed, every movement causing the dread in the pit of his stomach to heighten and grow, spreading through his limbs and veins with ease and flooding every single cell. He picked up everything he thought he'd need and glanced around once more before leaving his place of living with the feeling that if he returned, things wouldn't be the same...



Turning up at the address he'd been sent, Silas got out of his car roughly ten minutes after ending the call with Nick Fury. Other agents were around, though some were injured and shaking their heads. Silas moved over to them with somewhat arrogance snaking through his steps, though every step closer seemed like it would be his last. He was expecting a sniper employed by whoever he had made a deal with - who may well have been the Devil as far as Silas was concerned - to shoot him at any second. When no gun fire rang out, he knelt down next to the others.

"What's happened?"

One of the agents shook their head again wordlessly and so an uninjured agent spoke up. The young man looked at Silas before looking back at his co-worker.

"It's a fuckin' death trap." The agent answered, shaking his head again. "There were people with guns but I don't know where they were. They just... There's some people left in there. They're dead, though." He looked at the ground before looking at Silas and the elder agent was sure he saw the face of the man he had made the deal with appear momentarily in his expression. "Good luck."

With dread pumping around his body, filling his heart and flowing around his lungs, clinging to him with determination as he nodded to another agent. The pair move forward, towards the office building. A gun shot rang out and Silas darted sideways in surprise. His gaze turned to his partner and he found the other agent on the floor with blood seeping from his head. He looked up at the building, though couldn't see where the shot had come from. Straightening up, the dread now tightening its grip on his organs, Silas took a deep breath before moving forward and opening the doors.

He stepped into the building with ease, though his foot slipped on something on the floor. A quick glance down told him that it was a puddle of blood which led to the body of another agent tied to the wall. He froze until he registered that the body was pointing down the corridor. Following where the body was pointing, he saw another body pointing around the corner. With every new corner and every new corridor, there we more pointers as to where he was supposed to go. He found himself unchallenged by anyone and was rather relieved when he reached the top of the building without a single shot being fired. Opening the door, Silas' gaze fell on someone in a chair.

"Stand up." Silas ordered, staring at the back of the chair with his gun ready. When the chair didn't turn, Silas began moving forward. "I said 'stand up'." He stated almost demandingly, aiming at the back of the chair. Reaching the desk that was between himself and the chair, Silas frowned before pushing one side of the chair. It spun and revealed a corpse, slumped in the chair with blood dried in a trail down its face, dead eyes looking blindly at Silas. Swearing and jumping back, Silas stared for a moment before he turned at the sound of the door shutting behind him. The Irishman he'd made this entire deal with was stood in front of the door with a large, cheerful smile on his face though the cheerfulness seemed to die away from his smile.

"You expected something so ordinary?" He questioned. Silas ran a hand through his hair, noticing how the smile turned into a smirk right before his eyes. He shook his head.

"Of course not." He lied, though the Irishman's smirk told him that the shorter man didn't believe a word of it. "Come on." He said, moving towards the dark haired man with a hint of a sigh passing through his lips. The other man, still smirking, turned his back on Silas and put his hands behind his back.

"I assume you'll be using handcuffs." He stated, his voice almost floating back to Silas as he neared the other man. He couldn't really believe how easy this was, though didn't know how he'd explain it to anyone else. Luck, maybe. That would be fine. He cuffed the other man before straightening his back and opening the door. The pair moved through the bloodied corridors and the shorter man's expression slowly fell into a darker, more grim expression. His dark eyes fixated on nothing in particular but never moving from right in front of him. Once they reached the front doors, Silas stepped in front of the Irishman to open the door.

"Do not fire!" He called out while the door opened and revealed the pair to everyone. He grabbed the other man's upper arm and dragged him out before handing him over to the police. They would do whatever they needed to do and Silas could go home and forget about the deal. The agents that weren't injured clapped and applauded Silas as he moved the other man towards the police and the other man's gaze turned to him before a smile pulled at his lips humourlessly. A second of silence passed before he whistled softly then made a small noise that sounded a little bit like a crash. Silas looked at the other man with a frown. "What?"

"I owe you."

The police thanked Silas a moment later and took the arrested man before one of the officer's shook Silas' hand in a surreal moment for the agent where he was the hero. He still couldn't quite believe that everything had been so easy and the Irishman's words were forgotten as Silas, about to get into his car, watched the police putting him into their car. Silas smiled at another agent as the congratulated him and nodded gently in thanks before getting into his car and driving away, barely thinking twice about any of it and assuming it had all been a part of their plan despite him having not been informed what, exactly, the plan had been. It had worked. That was all that mattered to Silas at that moment in time...



Weeks passed and the deal was forgotten. Weeks passed and everything that they had agreed was nothing more than a momentary memory. Weeks passed, and Silas was a hero to the agents of S.H.I.E.L.D... Silas never considered the idea that it had been too easy. He had never thought about how it had been easier for him than anyone else. He hadn't even thought about every single gut feeling he'd had about the entire thing. He had rode the hero title all the way until now. It was surreal but a good kind of surreal. As he was walking down the corridor, he got stopped by a police officer.

"Just the man I was looking for..."

"It seems like a lot of people feel the same." Silas joked and earned a laugh from the officer.

"Everybody loves you."

Silas nodded with a smile before remembering what the officer had said moments before about the agent having been the man she was looking for.

"You were looking for me, though?"

"Ah, yes." The officer smiled, nodding in answer. "We're going to interrogate Mister Leficent soon, do you want to watch?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in questioning. Silas glanced around before nodding in answer.

"May as well see what my hard work caught." He half-joked, earning another laugh from her.

"A very good idea." She commented before indicating for him to follow her to the station. All in all, things had gone swimmingly since the arrest. He was a hero, people weren't talking about any failures recently that he'd done and it had been a success. What he wasn't aware of, though, was that the Irishman who'd done the deal with him had refused to talk until that day...



Michael looked up at an officer came to his cell. He didn't smile, smirk or generally wear any expression other than one of slight worry. He wasn't worried, but the act needed to start somewhere and now seemed like the perfect time and reason. Weeks after he'd been refusing to talk and the day when no doubt the hero of the month would be watching. This was going exactly how he'd planned.

Sitting in the interview room, fidgeting as though nervous while sat at the table, the dark gaze of the criminal passed over the walls and over the one-sided mirror/glass as he waited for a police officer to come in. He knew their tactics though didn't expect them to keep to their traditions of waiting and waiting and waiting. He had irritated them enough with not talking to anyone. He expected that they would jump at the chance to finally be able to talk to him. A small number of minutes passed before two officers entered the room with a woman in a suit. Michael nodded to the woman - his lawyer - in greeting before looking at the officers.

"So, you wanted to talk?"

Michael nodded, keeping his nervous act up, his hands in his lap as he seemed to try making himself very small. He glanced at his lawyer before looking at his hands and shifting slightly.

"I... I don't know how to say this..." He stated as though exceedingly uncomfortable before he glanced at the police officers in turn, worry and nervousness etched into his features. "I... I want to come clean."

"Sir, I wouldn't-"

"About... About Silas Mortimer." Michael interrupted as though what he was saying was extremely important and urgent, though he was still fidgeting and shifting in his seat nervously. "I... I don't know what he'll do to me if... If he finds out what I'm saying... Bu-But... But... I need to tell someone. I can't... I can't go to prison for him." He stuttered, his voice softly and weak, cracking under the act of being scared. The police glanced at each other before looking back at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"He paid me. He... He came to me and asked me if I wanted a part." The Irishman answered innocently, though he hadn't finished his answer. The police officers remained silent, leaning on the table between the two pairs. "He said it would all be fake. He... He said that I would be in a film. I tried to back out! I did try! He wouldn't let me. He threatened to tell everyone that I'd made a deal with him. I-I just... I just thought that he was a casting director! I didn't know this would happen!" The words seemed to spill from Michael as though he was desperate to tell someone. His lawyer seemed to be at a loss for words. The police did too. "I'm... I'm just an actor. Just an actor. I've never done anything big. My... My name is Jim Scott. I'm on YouTube."

One of the police officers looked to the mirrored glass as the lawyer shook her head wordlessly, seemingly hopeless. There was a moment of silence before the door opened and an infuriated S.H.I.E.L.D agent stormed into the room.

"How dare you?!"

"Get him away from me!" Michael had jumped to his feet with fear plastered across his features as he backed away from the table. His eyes were wide as he moved backwards. Silas pointed at the other man with anger seeping from him in dangerously hot waves. The officers had gotten to their feet, seemingly ready to keep the furious man at bay. Silas took two deep breaths.

"An actor? I didn't even know you until that day."

"You paid me!" Michael said desperately, seemingly trying to hide behind his lawyer before looking at the police officer imploringly. "He paid me! You can check my bank details..." He trailed off, hands twisting together as his gaze turned to Silas once more. A low growl sounded and Silas moved forward before climbing over the table with ease and storming forward. He shoved Michael's lawyer out of the way as he moved towards the man himself, who tripped over his own feet and ended up with his back against the wall and agent Mortimer snarling above him.

"You liar!" He yelled before pulling his arm back. His fist collided with Michael's face and the cowering man yelped in pain before recoiling into a ball. "I did nothing!"

"You paid me!" Michael almost yelled, seemingly close to tears. "I... I have proof! Please, tell me I have proof." He looked to his lawyer for support with tears now running down his cheeks in fear. "Please..." The word was rather softly spoken compared to his previous moments of talking and the pair both now looked at his lawyer as she nodded while riffling through a folder she had before pulling out two pieces of paper and handing them to the officers.

"Two payments from Silas Mortimer to Jim Scott." She stated, pointing to both of the payments that were on one page before showing them the other page. "More details about the payments." She told them while shoving the papers into the officers' hands. "Now," She began, now very business-like. "can you get that animal away from my client?" The officers looked somewhat embarrassed before moving over to collect Silas and walk him out of the interview room. Michael's lawyer moved to the shaking man and helped his to his feet. "Would you like to sue them?" She asked loudly, watching her client as he shook his head.

"I just want everyone to know the truth..."

[Michael Smith]

Title: *Sings* Gotcha.
Characters: Veronica Shatter, Michael Smith, Joker, James Wayne.
Notes: I got bored and Sherlock was on a little while (about three-four hours) ago and I got Michael muse and put on my Michael playlist and it has Rolling in the Deep - Adele on it (I claim that song for Michael) and yeah I thought this up and then did it in make-up on myself and I have photos and yeah. Enjoy.

1049 words!

---

Crimson stained the floor as it flowed. The racing red drew close to a hand, a still hand which lay on the floor like its owner. A door opened and closed on the floor below before a voice called out for the owner of the hand. Upon getting no answer, the woman who'd called out for her boss climbed the hard stairs hurriedly. Her foot steps were nearly silent as she got to the top of the stairs. The door of the room her boss was in opened slowly and she stepped inside before seeing the crimson as it strayed past his hand. She gave a gasp and fell to her knees next to his seemingly broken body. She said his name again, her voice softer than before.

Putting one hand on his cheek, she moved to open one of his eyes and said his name once again while turning his head to check his pupil in the light. Letting his eye fall shut once more, she turned his head to look for where the crimson was coming from. Her finger tips were unintentionally dipped in the liquid as she felt around the back of his head for a wound. As her fingers brushed what seemed to be a wound, his eyes opened and he yelled out a 'boo' while sitting up a little. She screamed and jumped, retreating from him as he lay back down while laughing. Pursing her lips, she smacked his arm.

"Damn it, Michael." She sighed, shaking her head. Her boss gave another laugh and looked up at her.

"Gotcha." He said simply before, still grinning, sitting up and pushing his ruffled hair back smoothly. "Fresh biscuits in the kitchen. Buns straight out of the oven." He told her casually, sorting his hair out before glancing at her. She was watching him as he moved and, after a moment, she reached forward to the fake wound on the back of his head. A number of seconds passed before she pulled her hand back with the fake wound between her fingers and thumb.

"Ass." She mumbled, a small, slightly amused smile twisting her lips. He gave a breath of laughter. As he did so, she looked up from the wound and raised an eyebrow.

"Ordinary." He countered, smirking at her. She gave an expression of absolute insult.

"Take that back!" She demanded, pointing at his face. He laughed and shook his head.

"You know I don't mean it." He said, looking at her with wide eyes. She bit her lip softly before nodding. His lips pulled into another smirk and he stood. "Come along, Ms Shatter."

---

A small groan sounded as she walked through the door. She didn't bother to call his name, though moved casually up the stairs while a man in a suit rushed past her to go to the kitchen, probably to save whatever their boss had been cooking this time. She mumbled a few choice curses about her boss before opening the door and walking inside. He was on the floor again, but there was something different about it this time. He had bruises on his face and a look in his eyes, she hadn't seen it before. It almost looked like he wanted - no, needed - help. She gave a frown while stepping a little closer as he watched her. With all of her attention on her boss, she didn't notice the clown behind the door until after it had closed. He gave a hint of a laugh.

"You always like an audience." The man on the floor said, his voice bordering on boredom. The clown looked at him before laughing insanely. His laughter sent chills down her spine, though the look on her boss' face doubled them. He could have been scared with the expression on his face. She doubted he was, given that he rarely seemed to have human emotions, but that was what the expression was. That was what the look in his eyes had been, she realised. Helplessness. Fear. Something was going on. "I don't know why. They wouldn't get the joke, after all."

The other man in the room, a younger man by far, growled at the other end of the room. The man on the floor rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Sir Wolf, else there may have to be a grim ending for you."

The other man, the man that her boss had just called 'Sir Wolf', moved forward before sending a harsh kick to his side. The victim let out a small 'ooft', though glanced at his employee and shook his head subtly, telling her not to draw the weapon he knew she had on her. The clown gave a chuckle before shooing the wolf away. He knelt over the other man, resting on one knee while grabbing his victim's face. A flick knife was produced and he drew closer before pushing the blade into his mouth. The sharp edge of the blade began slicing into the corner of the dark haired man's lips. Blood began to trail down his cheek, flowing to the back of his jaw both inside his mouth and out. The knife began to score the wounded man's cheek, letting blood peek at the surface. This continued for merely a moment more before a gunshot sounded. The knife stuttered before the owner fell to the side, his shoulder wounded.

The wolf gave another growl before launching himself across the room with aimed strides. The man on the floor, with blood filling his mouth and racing down his cheek, grabbed the wolf's ankle as he tried to pass and watched as the wolf fell gracelessly. The victim turned onto his front while the wolf looked at him.

"I will tear you apart."

"I just had your boss ripping my cheek apart." The man said through the blood that had begun to flow from his mouth. "Do you really think I'm afraid of you?" He practically spat before stealing the knife from the clown. He began moving closer to the wolf, his face becoming a horrific expression of hatred and murderous thoughts. For a moment, the wolf looked scared before he grit his teeth like his boss would have. "You're nothing to me."

[Pirate Queen Crow]

Title: If You Can Hear Me...
Characters: Matthew Reid and Ryan Morgan.
Notes: IDEK BUT SHORT AS FUCK.

450 words! (i've had posts longer than that)

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Both men had been in church at similar times in their lives. Both went into the religious building when they felt they'd lost someone they cared about. For one of them, that was literal. For the other, it was metaphorical. For both, it was a time to turn to a God they'd never believed in. A God they'd never felt existed and taken a chance. For both, it was after a death. The same death, in fact. The first one to go to the place of worship was the son of the person who'd died. The second one to go to the place of worship was his friend.

The doors opened and the smell of varnish flooded his nostrils. It was strangely warm and comforting, though it wasn't a smell that many would probably find comforting. It brought back detailed memories of Christmas services in his school's hall, where the floors were likely varnished with the same stuff. The thoughts of how ridiculous it sounded, every Christmas, to hear the same story. The baby who was perfectly behaved and grew up to die and then came back to life. Even as a child, he'd been logical. But when entering the church, which was almost empty, his thoughts were not of the illogical stories, but of what was currently happening and how he wished he weren't there at that moment in time. He sat and looked at his hands while thinking before he glanced up at the ceiling. He'd always preferred looking at the ceilings. They gave him another source of comfort - the idea that there was a limit on this building. In his thoughts, he wondered if there was anything out there before he took a deep breath. If you can hear me...


Months later, the doors opened again. The smell of varnish hadn't died over the months, though they brought back different memories for the second man. Memories he would rather have forgotten. Memories of older boys picking on him and yelling at him. They never dared to do so inside of the church. They may have wanted him, but they didn't want to disrespect the vicar or any higher power. Better memories came, though. Memories of seeing someone so out of place, looking up instead of down. As it turned out, that someone would be the reason he was there around eight years later. He sat, unknowingly, in the same place and looked to the front of the church, to the stained glass. The image of that religious figure with a somewhat mournful face never brought him comfort, but he pushed it again before bowing his head and closing his eyes. "If you can hear me..."