Danielle Panabaker for The New Potato

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@ailiestewart
Danielle Panabaker for The New Potato

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genghis khan || ailie & nixon
Thereās fear looking back at him, even if her response is rather steady for someone in her position, voice barely trembling but the soft quality might be the reason for that. Still, the girl offers up the simple information of her name. Aileen, something very vintage about it that could almost make him smile. Some of the new recruits are always shocked by their targetsā names, something so human about Robertās, Kellyās, and Aileenās. He destroys that moment of hesitation it grants his soldiers. These things are not human. They are not allies. They are dangerous threats.
āAileen,ā he repeats as though heās committing the name to memory, but later if she becomes merely a number or another grave being dug, he wonāt care at all. Perhaps he can remember all of their faces, the creatures theyāve dragged into Initiative facilities, but thereās been too many names offered in hopes of peace. Names make them human, give them lives. And nothing like a mutant should have a life.
Nixon nods his head once, fingers knitted comfortably atop the metal table separating them, allowing him to sit as the picture of serene comfort. āHow old are you, Aileen?ā
Itās almost impossible for her to read this man at all, though she supposes that years of practise and being in this situation countless times before makes it all rather easy for him. Sheād rather not think about the fate of all the others whoād sat before him and whether sheād find her way to becoming another of his victims or not. Not when there was such a need for her to stay focused and not let her fear rule her like it had so many times before.
He handles the situation with easy and the comfortable, confidant demeanour he possesses alone would usually be enough to rattle her. As it is she takes in a deep breath, trying to ignore how it shakes slightly and once again weighs up her options. Ailie supposes that cooperation, as far as possible, might be her best bet - the less reason she give them to get violent the better. But she canāt say for sure how long sheāll be able to be compliant for. So far all of the questions had been aimed at her, enough that she felt there was nothing incriminating in them.
So once more she gave him a soft answer. āTwenty six.ā Though her twenty seventh birthday wasnāt that far off, a month at best,Ā and she tried not to think about how little sheād accomplished in her life so far and how very much she was hoping that sheād live to see it.
genghis khan || ailie & nixon
Nixon could sigh but the girl is far from frustrating. She isnāt the worst prisoner heās had to deal with. She isnāt spitting at him, cussing him out, attempting to take his life and he always enjoyed that shocked expression on their faces when they all tried to use their power and couldnāt, because a Corinthian stood behind that glass panel to destroy their efforts. Itās always a joy to see their plans crumbles before their eyes.
āItās true,ā he states gruffly, but thereās sincerity there. If he knows just how to pry answers from the mouths of terrified mice, promotions have put him further and further away from getting his hands dirty. And while that never means that he doesnāt on occasion, because itās something he enjoys - finding the truth, it does mean that this one might not be worth his time. Sheās quiet and whether thatās because sheās fiercely loyal or just without much information he couldnāt say as of yet. She has something to hide however.
He shrugs his shoulders simply, hands folded politely atop the shiny metal table. āI probably wonāt be the one to do it, but someone will make you speak,ā he rationalizes, āBesides, all Iām asking for is your name.ā He can already guess where sheās from by the accent.
Though the distrust in her eyes is still lingering, Ailie canāt help but hear the truth in his words. It doesnāt take much of a jump in her logic to figure that this man is high up to be able to say such a thing with confidence. There had be be some degree of power in his hands that he would be able to have someone break bones or shed blood with just a few words from him. And that terrified her. It was the sort of power that sheād spent her whole life running from: the power to devastate without barely lifting a finger.
For a long while she forces herself to look at him as she weighs up her options. As scary as she might be, thereās no hiding the shaking of her hands, she couldnāt let her fear cloud her mind and take over like it had every other time sheād been around the Initiative before. When the Syndicate had been on the front foot it had been one thing, all it had taken was a few encouraging words from Rhys and sheād pulled through, but there was no doubt that it was her fear that had landed her here in the first place and as hard as it might be she wasnāt going to let it be the death of her.
There was a chewing of her lip, much hard than her usual habit, but the biting pain brought a little bit of sharp clarity. She was still very much clinging to the hope that the Syndicate would come for them and praying that it wouldnāt be in vain. All she had to do was make sure she survived up until that point. So with a soft yet remarkably steady voice she gave him what he wanted.Ā āAileen.ā It felt wrong to her to give him the name everyone else called her by.
Do you think you'll survive in the Initiative's care?
āI hope so. I hope Iām strong enough.ā
Are you afraid you'll break under pressure from The Initiative?

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Are you afraid of what's going to happen to you?
āYes.ā
āBut I know the Syndicate will do something.ā
genghis khan || ailie & nixon
The girl doesnāt say a word, perhaps fear choking her. Nixon could understand that even if he could not sympathize. Feeling fear is not a weakness. Itās foolish to say one is never scared at all. Maynard Nixon knew this. He knows that fear is a useful tool - to harness energy for battle, to tear down the mountains men build as walls to hide away their secrets. He knows how to prey on that. He prefers his mice to be terrified. The ones with a brave face are merely lying.
āThis will be easier on you if you give me answers,ā he informs her honestly, āStraight, truthful answers.ā Itās a thinly-veiled warning of what would happen if she lied, if she kept words locked behind teeth. The Initiative had ways of getting what they wanted from their prisoners and this one looks too small to withstand much of their methods of extraction. Simply attacking that fear might be enough to make her crack.
Nixon hopes thatās true. It would make his job and the work of all of his inferiors much easier. āIām just here to talk.ā
Thereās a demand for answers, something she knows that sheāll give her all to keep behind tight lips. The Syndicate were her family and while it might have taken her too long to fully appreciate the benefits such an organisation provided, she was going to fight with everything in her to protect them in return for al those times theyād looked after her. There were far too many people she cared about at risk her and as intimidating and terrifying as this man might be she wouldnāt bow, bend or break at his will.
Ailie soon realises that he expects honesty from her - another thing she isnāt prepared to give. Except there is one little truth that escapes her in reply to his last uttering. Ā āI donāt believe you.āĀ
Telling the truth had never been something sheād struggled with, in fact the thought of lying almost encouraged nausea in her. Perhaps that was why the words left her mouth. Heād asked for honesty and sheād provided it. Or perhaps it was just the grim realisation that there was no chance that sheād be lucky enough to escape his company with just words being exchanged between them.
Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power (insp)
genghis khan || ailie & nixon
āSuccessā had been the word thrown around after the agents returned with men and women in custody. But one look at Mason had set the true answer into place. This raid couldāve gone better as the faces brought in for processing arenāt ones to match the sketches. None of these mutants are the ones theyāve been looking for. And while they might know something and could possibly lead a team down the right path, it isnāt the face he wants to break retribution on.
Itās a matter heād discuss with his assigned Corinthian at a different time. Nixon would prefer to be better acquainted with his new prisoners and the small girl is the first in the tiny interrogation room. He had requested to meet with them all personally.
āYou wanna give me your name,ā he demands calmly, a vicious yet quiet storm as he whirls into the room and sits himself opposite of the creature. No guard beside him as he settles in front of her, the large two-way mirror behind him an imposing thing where she must know other agents are watching for any quick movements on her part. But if Mason is behind there she wouldnāt be able to do a thing, no ability to cheat with.
Small spaces had never really bothered Ailie. Claustrophobia wasnāt something she could claim to have ever felt until now. But the walls seemed to press in on her, growing closer and closer and closer in her mind until they felt like they might constrict her chest. The door mocked her, knowing that she could never use it freely. She was forced to watch the realisation of all this play across her features in the two way mirror, although it didnāt take long for her to lower her eyes and focus on her hands like she had so many times before.
Her hands that could level building and split the earth. What they could do had led to her ending up here and while she was terrified she was also struck by the injustice of it all, as she had been so many times before. This wasnāt something she had chosen, a twist of fate and a change in her DNA, yet she had been manhandled here with a bag over her head.
When the man comes in she doesnāt look up until he speaks to her. Thereās little doubt in her mind that this isnāt someone who will be particularly easy on her but Ā thereā no doubt in her mind that sheāll be the one to tell him anything. So she shakes her head as she bites her lip in an attempt to keep words spilling out. The Syndicate were her family, she wouldnāt give these men anything.

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Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
The man keeps fighting even after heās slammed face first against the table and thereās blood leaking from the side of his head. It doesnāt surprise him, but the amusement he walked in here with is slowly fading, something harder and more intent guiding his hands now. He might revel in his position and the gifts heās been granted, but itās more important to prove every time that he deserves them. The Initiativeās most dedicated and ruthless soldier, and if he was nothing and no one to his family, theyāve given him so much more. They lifted him from the wasteland of the mundane, shaped him into their most powerful weapon, and he carries that with pride.
The manās head snaps back after the words leave his lips, his skull cracking against his jaw and his lip splitting with the blow. Thereās a grunt of pain, the taste of blood on his tongue, but heās just as quick to respond with fingers yanking at his hair to slam his head back down against the table. And thereās still a gun in the manās hand that he wants gone, and his fingers tighten on his wrist to bend in in the wrong direction until it snaps.
The cuffs follow, metal snapping around his wrist. But if he gets the black bag in hand next, itās cut off by the pained shout next to him. His gaze flicks over to the sight of the woman staggering to her feet, one of his agents on the ground with a hand against his leg.
That combined with the blood in his mouth wouldāve been enough to spark a mounting frustration, but itās the shots that come next that tip the scales. His breath catches, because he can feel the air from a bullet rushing too close to his face. His gaze shifts in the direction of the fired shots, fixating on a woman back by the bar as she drags a bloodstained form along with her.
His fingers snap at the uniformed man closest to him, his name forgotten when theyāre barely better than hired hands at this point. āGet this one bagged,ā he snaps, before relinquishing his hold on him. Heād rather be the one to drag his body in, to set him down in front of Nixon and watch the old man tear his secrets from his tongue. But at this rate heāll be leaving empty handed, and he stalks away from him to make another grab at the woman wielding broken glass. His fingers reaching for the hand she holds it in, intent on twisting it right from her grasp.
Itās a small victory when Jacksonās head collides with the manās in back of him. Itās a painful blow and he hopes it stuns the man behind him. Hopes it leaves blood or a scar in its wake. If it does stun him, it doesnāt last long before Jacksonās head is being slammed back down into the table. He tries to turn and lessen the blow, but he feels his nose crack as soon as he meets the table. Thereās blood on his face, filling his mouth and leaking down the back of his throat with a sudden intensity that he chokes on it, spitting crimson across the table heās bent over.Ā
Dazed, he can only pull back against the twisting of his wrist so much. His desire to keep the grasp on his gun makes his fingers numb, the hand curling his wrist bending it to the point he has to grit his teeth, put everything he has into trying to keep that grip. It ruins him, in the end. The snap is palpable, shaking itās way up his arm and the pain is so sudden he canāt help the sharp cry he gives, though it turns into a growl of anger and endurance.Ā
The hands leave him after that, talking going on behind him and he realizes he canāt hear anything over the ringing in his ears, his own heartbeat pumping away like drums, a tune to this fight theyāre in the middle of. He slumps down to his knees, pulling his arm back in front of him and his wrist is bent at the wrong angle. He grits his teeth, puffing his cheeks as he tries to grit his way through that intense, flaring pain.Ā
If anything, the familiar taste of blood, the slow fogginess of a head wound, a broken nose, a broken bone ā it fuels him. Itās anger emanating from every pore he has. Every emotion he thought he lacked, he thought didnāt get stoked as anything more than smoldering kindling. It was here now. And as a hand lands on his shoulder, he whirls. Broken wrist be damned, he still has one working hand and he grabs the first thing he can get it on. A beer mug, discarded on the floor in the chaos.Ā
Itās a new Initiative agent behind him, but he doesnāt care in the moment. He swings himself to his feet, adrenaline and pain fueling a rage heās not expressed since his father died. The beer mug gets smashed against the manās face and itās enough to bring him to the ground. Jackson doesnāt stop there. He should turn and help Ailie, he should regain focus and control, but his mind is muddled by blood and bruises.Ā
He doesnāt stop hitting the man. Not even when the mug shatters and heās left with only the broken edges of the glass handle. If it embeds itself into his flesh, he busts open his knuckles on the manās face anyway, hitting him with such ferocity and such strength ā every ounce of energy he had left in him until the manās face was nothing more than a bloody mess. Until his breath turned to gurgles.
If he was dying here, he was taking these bastards with him. Ā
Itās once again obvious how little Ailie has been exposed to any type of combat when she lets her attention be captured by the way Jackson sets upon the man. Her eyes were glued to the scene. Unable to tear her eyes away from what they were seeing. It was brutal and merciless.Ā Ā It might have been unrelenting and fuelled purely by rage - something sheād heard about in him but never witnessed - but for once she couldnāt help but feel it was right.Ā
Violence wasnāt something sheād ever been comfortable discussing, never mind witnessing it or even finding herself condoning it in this situation. But there was a sense of justice in it - that at least one of them should be causing as much destruction and pain as the Initiative had inflicted upon them. There had been too many years spent without mutants ever really taking the blood owed them from what had been shed by their brethren. Never before had she wanted the repayment but when suddenly face with it a small part of her, vastly outweighed by her worry and the way her fear was still making her chest constrict, that practically begged for it. Demanding retribution.
It didnāt take much other than to listen to know that both sides were giving as good as they got and Ailie was glad. Her only real hope, or at least the hope that she felt no guilt along with, was that they all got out of their safely and free from capture. Sheād never been unfortunate enough for luck to desert her enough that she ended up captured but she knew enough to know that it wasnāt a position any of them deserved to be in.
That hope was soon crushed as soon as a hand encircled her wrist.Ā
Lucky had finally left her and despite the glass in her palm, fingers wrapped tightly around it as though it was a lifeline despite the way it was cutting flesh, Ailie knew that she was just as defenceless as before. Perhaps even more so. Having witnessed the man against Jackson, any lingering hope was extinguished by the knowledge that she didnāt stand a chance against him.
But that didnāt mean she was about to go quietly. There was no uncertainty in her mind that her brown eyes were probably wide and stricken with fear but that didnāt stop her from using her free hand to push on his chest, trying to drive her away from me. The captured wrist was held tightly but that didnāt stop her trying to pull it from his grasp. Ailie held her tongue, afraid that if she did speak then begging would leave her lips despite how little she wanted to ask this man for anything.
send a number for:
their physical weak spots
their emotional/moral weak spots
scars or painful spots
best places to kiss on their body
guilty pleasures
their vices (physical or emotional)
bad memories or experiences
humiliating memories
fears or phobias
bad or petty habits
grudges and vendettas
what gets them flustered
ingrained habits or forces of habit
what it takes to make them cry
dark secrets or skeletons in the closet
regrets
things theyāll never admit
people theyāve indirectly hurt or killed, and how it affected them
what-ifs or alternate timelines
turning points in their life
Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
The man ignores his warning, though itās nothing that truly surprises him. If anything it makes it all that more tempting to simply pull the trigger and put a bullet in his head. The odds were good that if he didnāt have a police sketch of him pinned to a wall then thatās exactly what heād do, marked off as nothing more than a casualty of war. But if he wonāt call this personal, at least not yet, thereās still that sharp desire to be the one who brings him in alive. Instead of just his corpse.
He canāt tell what heās going for when the manās hand goes for his belt. If itās a gun or a knife, either way heās not stupid enough to believe himself invincible when it comes to either. Just the abilities granted to him by that flaw in his DNA, the coding writing him as a monster instead. The man kicks out at him, likely aware that heās fighting for his life at this point.
Regardless, heās quick to press the advantage he has, motions quick and carried out with a military precision. His grip on his gun shifts, bringing the butt of it down in a quick snap against the manās temple. It doesnāt stop the foot from colliding with his legs, but itās a small sacrifice for getting a grip around his arm to keep that weapon pointed down and away from him. Itās followed by another blow directed at the manās head, his own gun still clenched tightly in hand. Then heās yanking hard at his arm, twisting them both as he does with every intention of slamming him face down against the table next to them.
The woman is surprisingly stiff and quiet next to them, and if heās been unwilling to divide his attention all that much when he believes the ma is a greater threat, half of himās been braced for an attack to come while heās not looking. His gaze flicks to her, head tilting for a moment to ensure he keeps her in his line of sight while he tries to hold the man down, but his eyes catch another agent first. The orders come quick and simply, emphasized with a jerk of his head. āGrab her.ā
Jackson doesnāt get the chance to fire his gun. Thereās a hand curling around his arm and then thereās a blinding flash of pain in his temple. He can recognize when heās been pistol whipped, but itās been a while since that sudden, harsh blow has been aimed his way. Long before heād joined the Syndicate, when he was just on his own and willing to take what blows he needed and had to do so alone.Ā
The blow has him staggering, the grip on his gun loosening slightly but heās aware enough not to let go of it just yet. Itās his only line of defense in the moment and as soon as he loses it, he thinks heās lost this fight. The man is faster than he thought he would be. Well trained and itās more formal than anything Jackson has ever gone through. Heād spent so long honing his powers and while heād sworn he would never use them as a crutch, he canāt help but think thatās exactly what theyāve become in recent years. Something to fall back on, something to have always. Except when faced with a Corinthian.Ā
Another blow to the temple has him seeing stars, a loud crack echoing in his head and thereās warmth on his face letting him know the man had drawn blood with the second blow. He staggers again before the world is turning and the manās slamming him face first onto a table, bent at the waist. He imagines this is the part where the handcuffs come on. This is the part where the black bag gets put over his head.Ā
Only thereās a command issued from the man behind him. Grab her.Ā And if nothing else, that helps clear some of the cobwebs from his head. Ailie. He canāt let her go to one of their facilities, he canāt let anything happen to her and it has him fighting back. He bucks his head backwards, intent on smashing it into the manās face. Hopefully to break free and get that gun pointed back at him.Ā
āDonāt you touch her,ā he warns, growling out between grit teeth.Ā
Things were getting worse for Jackson by the second and it only escalated the guilt that she was already feeling for the situation. Not only had she been the one to bring him but he was defending her yet sheād yet to so much as lift a finger to do anything for him. There were only so many excuses that she could make. To begin with she might have been a hindrance - doing more harm than good, but now there was almost no doubt in her mind that she wouldnāt be anything but help. A distraction if nothing else.Ā
Except just as sheās about to make her move to follow her decision, fingers wrapping around her glass as though it might help, Ā thereās a man ordered to come at her. The glass slips from her fingers as she takes a hurried step back, trying to avoid him. Broken glass crunches under her shoes and she soon realises that thereās no running from this one. Jackson couldnāt save her from the second one either.
She had to fight.Ā
Finally she lifted her hands, not with her palms out and fingers stretched like she had the last time for the Syndicate when sheād caused part of the Initiative to crumble, but with fists balled in some weak imitation of what sheād seen others in this room do. The ridiculousness of how she must have look struck her and within seconds the hands were back by her side.Ā She didnāt know how to handle someone coming at her like that. Her powers let her drop buildings on people but never in her life had she thrown a punch.Ā
So she took another half step back, footing becoming unstable on the now wet floor and causing her to fall. Now on the ground, shards of glass grazing her skin, Ailie was sure this was it. Sheād failed just as she started trying. More gunshots rang out as she looked up at the man standing over her and while there was too much going on to be sure, she thought they sounded closer. It was enough to shake some clarity into her for once and her fingers found one of the fragments of glass, trying not to wince as she wrapped her fingers around it. Forcing herself to tighten her grip, biting her lip against the pain, she swung her arm out in an unpractised arc. The glass sliced through his leg, drawinng blood in a way that made her head spin but it gave her enough time to scramble to her feet.
Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
Thereās an astounding amount of arrogance in the words heās greeted with, a thing that makes him laugh before the smile dies abruptly on his lips. Itās precisely that mindset that put him here, that thought process held by so many abominations that they are somehow better. Gifted in ways he was not, exempt from the rules and restrictions that people like him had been bound by. It strips the humor from his tongue.Ā āYouāre in no position to make threats.ā
But his attempt to take the woman into custody is derailed swiftly, the man reacting before he gets a good hold on her. She retreats and heās greeted with a fist swinging towards him.
The motion is only what he expected ago, and if a moment ago it mightāve only widened the smile on his face, instead his lipās curling in a sneer, attention shifting rapidly to the man attacking him. He doesnāt know his name yet, but heās certain that he will. Heāll drag it from his throat himself if he has to, not a single crack left in his resolve to hold him back. His arm snaps up to try and catch the blow thrown at him, the other shifting his aim to try and shove the gun against his temple.
The urge to pull the trigger on both of them is a powerful thing, a desire to cut down everyone that might carry that power in their veins. And there isnāt a single shred of doubt in his mind that both of the people in front of him carry that ability, though the specifics of it might remain a mystery. Something destructive, something that can shake the foundations of an apartment complex or bring down buildings. Whether they themselves are responsible for that, or the other terrorists they ally themselves with, heāll get his answers.
One, or both of them will be walking out of here in a black bag. If the other leaves in a body bag, thatās nothing heāll lose sleep over. And somewhere over his shoulder he hears gunshots, proving that someone else probably will. āDonāt make me repeat myself.ā
The man moves fast. Responds by catching the blow he throws at him and itās a cold, hard press of steel against his temple that has him slowing, tipping his head to the side. Thereās the sounds of gunshots around him, but he doesnāt have a chance to see who they were aimed at, who had gone down around them. His free hand is pulling the gun from beneath his belt and heās trying to shoulder the manās gun away from his temple. It could all end here and he knows it. It could end with a bullet in his head and he thinks it would be fitting to go out the way his father went.Ā
Thereās an intense awareness that behind him, Ailie remains quiet, backing away and he has an urge to tell her to run. To get out of here, but thereās nothing that comes from his throat. His attention is solely on getting that gun up towards the man, of getting that barrel pressed to his chest so he can pull the trigger. If a Corinthian was down, if he was out, then the others would be free to use their powers to get out of this and Jackson knew he had to take him out to give them any sort of fighting chance.Ā
As the gun comes up, he tries to kick out at the manās leg as well, trying to throw everything he had at him all at once and give himself the best chance of bringing him down. There were yells and gunshots echoing all around them, but Jackson was hyper focused on the man in front of him and of the woman behind him that he was trying to protect. In the back of his mind, he knew there were others here he couldnāt let anything happen to, but by the sounds of it, heād already failed in that task as well.Ā
The irony strikes her that the last conversation her and Jackson had before today was about her insecurities about where she felt she fitted in to the Syndicate. Theyād been met only with his certainty that thereād be an occasion for her to prove to herself once and for all that she did belong there and that she did have something worthwhile to give. However, if this was the opportunity then she was failing miserably. All that was happening was that life was proving once again that she didnāt have a place among these giants of men. These people who had power and strength even without the mutation in the DNA.Ā
No, someone who deserved their spot wouldnāt just be stood watching as another of their number fought for their life.
Sheās barely aware of anything else going on around her. It all just fading too a dull noise and a blur around the scene in front of her. If her heart wasnāt already beating fast enough, what she sees next practically makes it stop. Thereās a gun pressed against Jacksonās temple and itās a miracle that Ailie doesnāt choke on the lump that forms in her throat. A hand rises to cover her mouth and prevent any horrified sound from escaping but sheās sure thereās still an audible gasp.
Gunshots fill the air, making her jump and for a heartbeat she almost expects to see Jackson hit the floor, even calling out his name through fingers that havenāt left her lips. But it doesnāt happen. Eyes stay focused on the fight in front of her rather than trying to find out who has fallen victim to a bullet. With so many guns in the room she hates to think about how many there could be. But sheās still frozen, captivated by the fight that somehow involves her even though she never asked it to.
Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
The fact that there are few who follow his orders only serves as some reassurance that heās made the right call. The innocent have little to run for, and heās here for the guilty. The abominations, the freaks, every person who lifts a hand at his order and finds themselves holding nothing but air. Those are the ones heās here for, the outcasts of the human race who donāt deserve the power that they were gifted at their inception. He deserves it. He suffered and sacrificed for it.
For a moment he keeps his position in the door, watching men in black uniforms fan out and do as theyāre told. The few who obeyed find themselves quickly cuffed, those that donāt, well, heās unconcerned with whatever damage control they might have to do if they leave bodies behind.
Itās the glimpse of a man towards the corner of the room that draws his attention, because if itās no one heās ever met in person, heās studied the black lines of a police sketch enough times that itās committed to his memory. Thereās a woman at the table next to him, a brief glimpse of her face before sheās ducking for cover, and heās too far away to tell her it wonāt save her.
Heās quick to want to fix that, feet carrying him swiftly across the room. And perhaps there shouldnāt be a smile on his face, but he canāt help the curve of his lips as he draws his gun from his holster.
With one hand it gets pointed towards the man heās been hunting, the target that so many denied ever seeing. Including the redhead that works the counter here, lies spilled so readily off her tongue. Thereās less bitterness for it when heās still getting what he wanted, the chaos erupting in the room around him thatās secondary to the two in front of him. And itās with his free hand that he makes a grab for the woman, fingers grasping for her arm. āI said hands up. Youāre both under arrest.ā
There was chaos all around him. Shouts and people being put on their knees, cuffs around their wrists. Thereās a growing sense of anger in his chest because this had always been a safe haven, this had always been their territory and maybe it had been their downfall thinking that their attack on the Initiative would go without some sort of awful retribution. Though all of those thoughts stayed solely locked away in his head, a calm and cool exterior that gave away nothing. If he kept his hands out in front of him and his chin tipped back slightly, it was only because the man was holding a gun, as were a dozen others and he didnāt want to test whether he would pull the trigger or not.Ā
Not yet.Ā
āBiggest mistake of your life, walking in here,ā he says calmly as the man approaches, telling them to put their hands up and that theyāre both under arrest. Theyāre big words for a situation where Jackson has no control. Heās aware that somewhere at the other end of the bar, his siblings are handling this in their own way. Eliās friends, more of the Syndicate, others who arenāt even involved but just caught in the wrong place and the wrong time. There were going to be failures today. Jackson was already accepting it. But that was just today.Ā
Eventually, this man would realize those words were true. Whatever was inflicted today, Jackson would make sure this man felt tenfold. And heād remind him of this moment, when heād made the mistake that would cost him his life.Ā
Its not until heās reaching for Ailie that Jackson makes his move. While thereās a gun still tucked beneath his shirt, he doesnāt pull it quite yet, going for a more conventional swing of his fist towards the man and the gun stretched out towards him. He will not go down without a fight and heād be damned if he let anyone in the room be taken while he was still standing.Ā
The man approaches them once more, reiterating his command for them to lift their hands in surrender. But Ailieās stay by her side. Not through some great act of defiance but rather that this man didnāt need to see the way he was making her hands shake. He didnāt need any hint of weakness in the Syndicate.Ā
Jackson does more than she ever could, speaking out when her tongue remains lodged in her throat, blocking any possible words that might have come to her mind. She was barely aware of a hand reaching for her, threatening to arrest her and take her away to god only knew what. Hell on earth probably. But before she could end up caught in the manās grasp, Jackson was stepping forward and swinging for the man, fighting for himself, her and everyone else in there when all she could do was stand and watch. It was times like these that could easily undo all her progress, though perhaps by some slight miracle her mind was too taken up by the situation unfolding than on that treacherous part of her that was always craving to tear her down.
Stepping back seemed like the safest thing for her to do, even if it made her feel even more like a coward. But she wouldnāt have been any help to Jackson had her focus been in tact, never mind the dazed state she was in now. The feeling was of deja vu from how sheād felt during the attack that theyād been the ones carrying out. Everything was overwhelming her and it was all she could to to try to stay focused on what was going on and not be a liability. It was bad enough that she was the reason Jackson was her, she doubted she could live with herself if anything happened to him.Ā
There was nothing she could do but stand helplessly and let someone else defend her. Brown eyes wide with worry as she couldnāt tear them away from the fight unfolding in front of her. Breath caught in her throat as tension built in her body, hating that sheād probably end up getting in the way more than anything if she chose to try to take some sort of action.

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Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
Itās been weeks since Griffith Mason set foot in Los Angeles, with no arrests to his name despite his best efforts. He had his suspicions and a single encounter that ended poorly as far as heās concern. But the arrival of Nixon signifies the cutting of that red tape, his hands no longer bound by the same rules and restrictions that mightāve held the police back. Maybe some of them have been bought, maybe theyāre just bad at their jobs, but thereās nowhere to run for any of them now.
He doesnāt know if the bartender he met at Left Blank is one of those heās hunting or not. But he wonāt find any of those answers with casual conversation. Itās a thing better discovered with cuffs around their wrists, dragged from the building in black bags, and heās prepared with both. As well as a team of officials that arrive in black vans behind him. The orders he gives are simple, to both the LAPD and Initiative agents. āTake all of them. Use deadly force if necessary.ā
Thereās a rush of adrenaline flowing in his bloodstream, an inability to keep the smile off his face when he yanks the doors open. The element of surprise is on his side, in more ways than one. His presence is a damning force, because if he is walking into a den of vipers theyāll find their venom ineffective when thereās a Corinthian standing in front of them. Maybe thatāll make some of them too bold, and maybe itās cruel that he almost hopes for it when he shouts his orders, eyes sweeping the gathered crowd as his soldiers pour in behind him. āHands up and on your knees!ā
Jackson accepts the scotch sheād gotten him with another reserved smile.Ā āYou know my drink,ā he comments, both as a means to thank her and to tell her that sheād chosen right. She shared with him her social hesitancy and he knew what it meant that sheād asked him to come out here at all. That she was trying to be a part of the Syndicate more, trying to break away from whatever level of isolated comfort sheād been seeking out for years. He thought it was a good first step.Ā
Until the front door swung open. He hadnāt even had a chance to start the small talk with her. Something simple, like music or cooking, something they both enjoyed. His eyes lifted to the man whoād just entered, and then to the agents that followed behind. For a brief moment, his gaze swung to everyone in the bar. All of their people, all of his family. Eli, Lia ā everyone he cared about seemingly gathered here and the thought again that there was a traitor in their midst, one who brought the Initiative here was so immediate and angering, he found adrenaline pumping even before the agents finished piling in and started pulling people out of their seats.Ā
āGet down,ā he turned to hiss to Ailie. If they were here, the first thing he needed to do was separate himself from her. Hopefully before someone could see she was sitting with him, just from proximity sheād be associated. He stood, hand holding out in front of him in an attempt to bring the agents to the ground, power usually coming to him easily. When it didnāt, he let his hand fall back down, standing there and watching the chaos for a moment, eyes coming to meet the man whoād first entered.Ā
There was still the gun tucked beneath his shirt and if anything, heād take as many of them with him as he could. He gave a small smirk at the man, tipping his head as though to tell him well played.
Thereās a relaxing of her shoulders to show her relief at having remembered correctly, the unspoken thank you only relaxing her further. Though in truth she didnāt know why she still let herself get so tense in Jacksonās company. Heād never been anything but kind to her, helping her feel at ease with their shared common ground that had been such a welcome surprise. Idly she canāt help but wonder what they would discuss today. If it was something new or theyād stick to more familiar territory. Either way she hoped that he knew how much just this meeting was helping. Buying him a drink didnāt seem like quite enough to show her gratitude but thereād be time for that later.Ā
Words to ask him how heād been were on the tip of her tongue only to be held back as the door being opened with some force, causing her to jump slightly in her seat as it startled her. Everything seemed to move him slow motion. The words that the man spoke were lost to her ears as all she heard was a low buzzing, drowning out anything else as she struggled to avoid falling into panic as she watched agent after agent pour through. Slowly it dawned on her that Jackson had spoken to her, given her an order that she knew it would be in her interest to follow and probably the best thing for him too. But the words had to filter through the fog that her fear was creating and when they finally did sheād allowed herself to be frozen in place.
Finally she summoned the will to move, to take some cover even though she chose to remain close to Jackson. She was well aware that there was little she could do to help him, her experience in the field minuscule in comparison to his but she felt responsible. If it hadnāt been for her he wouldnāt be here in the first place.Ā
Her hands were trembling, her power rippling under her skin as if Ā it recognised it was a time for it to be used triggered by the terror she was feeling. Except nothing happened. The ground remained still, not even the slightest of tremors moving the earth beneath their feet. The power that sheād only just started to embrace ripped from her before she could even attempt to use it a second time against the Initiative. It wasnāt until that moment that she realised how much sheād relied on her powers over the years and now she was without them she felt bear. Defenceless.
Lifeline || Ailie, Griffith & Jackson
It had been too long since Jackson had left the Estate. Heād tried to venture out to Lucky Lanes now and again, but the threat was still too real and he would never put the Syndicate in danger like that. But at the text from Ailie, and the lack of movement on the Initiativeās part, he agreed to come have a drink with her. Perhaps theyād simply stay in the back of Left Blank, or heād keep his head down and leave at the first sign of recognition from someone he didnāt trust. Perhaps he was just being foolish heading out at all, but it was Ailie. And sheād asked him to share his company with her. He wouldnāt refuse.Ā
Keeping his head down, he stepped into Left Blank, eyeing the room and the inhabitants inside before he spotted Ailie. Heading over, he slid onto a barstool next to her, giving her a small smile that was only reserved for a certain few in the Syndicate. Most people, heād be rougher with, heād be colder with. Ailie had never been on that list and he wasnāt sure exactly how that happened, but it had. She was Syndicate and he was glad to have her here.Ā
āBusy tonight,ā he said, giving her a small smile. There were many faces he knew here. His eyes fell on Eli for a moment, though they hadnāt spoken to each other since the awkward encounter in the Estate. He had every intention of talking to him tonight, but he settled on just a small tip of his head in greeting, focusing on Ailie instead. She was the reason he was here.Ā
Perhaps it had been selfish of her to ask Jackson to meet her but it hadnāt been something sheād considered until the message had been sent and it was too late to take it back. As soon as sheād done it Ailie had realised just how much sheād asked of him, remember that the main reason time had passed without them seeing each other was that he was supposed to be keeping a low profile. And here she was asking him to risk it all just to have a drink with her.
Sheād expected him to say no, to turn the request down because it was asking him to relinquish his safety but instead sheād been surprised when heād said yes. So that was how sheād found herself sat in Left Blank, having tried to pick a table that was a little more out of the way in some attempt to make herself feel better about having dragged him out into the open. There were two glass in front of her, one cocktail for herself and a glass of scotch for Jackson. In her mind it was only fair for her to get the first round when sheād been the one to suggest it all in the first place.Ā
Brown eyes had been drifting over the room, smiling whenever she made eye contact with someone she new. Maybe another night sheād make time to drink with them too. The Scot saw Jackson come in, smiling at him as he did. Sheād come to value his company and enjoyed their conversations so it was only natural she was pleased heād came. With a little nod she agreed with his statement, returning his smile.Ā āI donāt think Iāve seen so many of us in one place outside of a meeting.ā Tentatively, she pushed the glass of scotch towards him.Ā āI hope you donāt mind I got you this. If itās not the right one then Iāll change it.ā