Liz was not a patient woman. To her, waiting for anything was completely pointless, especially when you had magic to speed everything up. But this was different. Just now, she was happy to wait. Pacing in front of the newly erected cell, heeled boots clacking on the cement, glaring down at poor, little Isaac. These weeks without her best friend by her side had driven her insane, or at least, slightly more insane than she already was. She’d never been so bored, finding that killing off members of HR was nowhere near as fun when completed solo. But luckily, it turned out Amara had felt an absence as well, and so Liz was given full control to launch a rescue mission. Or a manhunt. Actually she wasn’t so sure what it actually qualified as, though that didn’t matter now. Originally her plan was to find surges of electrical energy throughout the city to track down Isaac, but then Liz found out he was working at the Gamble, so she just had the goons abduct him from there.

Now came the tricky bit, how to get Kohl out. Liz figured it was alright to have some trial and error, just as long as she healed his body after, Kohl would actually kill her if she fucked up his body anymore than it already was. Maybe she’d just zap his brain a few times, or insert something into his ear, or… Her thoughts were interrupted from a rustle within the cell, eyes lighting up as she watched Isaac struggle. She kinda understood now why Kohl hated him so much. “Hey Isaac! Long time no see! Or, never seen. Anyway, baso, you’ve had this body for a bit too long and Kohl is a very dear friend of mine and I want him back. So why don’t you make this really easy and just relinquish control and then I’ll have to open this cell really quickly cause Kohl would hate this.” She said while giggling, arms happily crossed against her chest. 

Isaac runs a hand over his face, pain blooming in the back of his head where there’d been an impact, some blunt object forcing him unconscious. Now he suffered the hangover of the hit, mixed with the shaking ache of his bones from who knows how long without a high. Joints feel stiff as he moves, eyes watching the woman who looked all too delighted to see him in pain. His stomach turned, the nausea hitting him all at once, and he retches, as if his stomach were trying to escape his body. He heaves, his stomach empty already, and a cold sweat breaking across his pale skin. 

Eyes drag up towards the woman as the heaving slows, eyes bloodshot and tired. Kohl. Of course this all had to do with Kohl. “I didn’t know he even had the capacity for friends.” He spat out, hatred seething from every word. He’d worked to put as much space between him and whatever life Kohl had made for himself while he was in control, but there he was, forcefully dragged back into it. He shifts himself from all fours to a seated position, leaning his back against the side of the cell, not bothering to even try to stand--he didn’t think his shaking legs would hold him at the moment. God, the feeling was all too familiar, almost like he’d never left his cell all those years ago.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting Kohl come out.” He sneers at her, as if he had such control. The truth was, his heart was starting to beat faster out of fear. He knew as the withdrawal took hold of his bones, combined with whatever the woman was likely to do to him, he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

Panic wasn’t the right word for what Isaac felt when his eyes blinked open and he felt a sickening familiar texture of cement floor under his cheek and the sight of bars on a cell. He sits up hastily, head suddenly swimming and throbbing from where he’d been hit. A cold sweat breaks over his skin, and he realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but clearly it had been long enough for the withdrawal to settle into his bones. Eyes darted around the cold cell, his stomach so nauseous that he thought he was going to throw up. It all felt too familiar, and he couldn’t help but feel a shake in his fingers. He looks up, eyes connecting with a woman he didn’t know. His voice came out quiet from his parched throat. “Where the fuck am I? What’s going on?”

@liz-bateman  

Vera felts helpless as a migraine that throbbed in her temples caged her. The temptation to hide her face into the palms of her hands grew with every passing second. With drivers honking their horns, someone’s conversation to the left became louder, construction a block up. To your left, buses moan and screech to a halt. To your right, tourists chatter as bicyclists whiz by. An ambulance wails in the distance. A trumpet plays. Everything, every sound she loves and that makes this city what is it, Vera begins to loathe. As her thumb and index finger move to either side of her forehead, hoping that would ease the pain. A part of her knows that the movement is useless and that it’s not because of all the noise around her that is creating this pain. Once more, Vera finds the city falls back into a hum. “No, no, no, no…” She whispers. Watery eyes press together, so do her lips. Her back is pressed against the glass window, trying to hold onto reality as it quickly slips away.

Time has passed. There’s no telling how many days or weeks it has been. Her hair felt damp as it sticks to her face. A hard shiver travels up her spin as water drips down onto the new, dry hospital cloth she changed into before coming back to her cell. It didn’t matter what she wore. She was always cold. And sitting in the wettish prison doesn’t help one bit. The boy on the other side… Vera doesn’t know if he feels the chill. He must be used to it. “What’s your name?” She asks the young man who’s trapped like her. She sits in the middle of the cell, while he lay curled on his cot.

She comes back and immediately wraps her forearm around her middle. The queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach increase, the back of her throat tightens threateningly. She tries to control the feeling with deep inhales, but her breathing is already laboured. Vera looks at the scared boy before her. Vera goes to say something to him – something, anything, - Then, her vision begins to swim. The feeling of panic beings like a cluster of spark plugs in her lungs. She can feel the tension growing in her face and limbs. She can hear each of her breaths, rasping just the same as when she had the flu two winters ago. Vera closes her mouth and keeps her hands balled into fists and she stills herself, concentrating on not having a full blown panic attack.

“I’ve had enough. Please, I’ve said I’ve had enough.” The patient surprise herself. From the session she’s just had, she could have figured there would be no noise coming from her. There is, though. It’s hoarse and hardly above a whisper, but it’s there. Because somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that she was taught that she would and always will have a voice. No matter how shaken or broken it sounded. They put fire at her feet - it didn’t unlock her genetics, it only made memories of her family home up in flames bloom before tightly shut eyes. She couldn’t feel any pain until she’s thrown back into her cell. Vera curls into herself. Her eyes find the boy. She blinks slowly.

That’s where she learns all about Isaac. That’s when they become friends. When they decide to help each other. Be there for each other. Talk to each other through the pain. For these quiet moments bring both of them solace. Vera reaches out, seeing his fingers through the bars. The pads of their fingers touch, then Vera envelops her hand around Isaac’s, squeezing softly.

Again, Vera comes back. Reality hit her like a stack of bricks to the back of her head. It’s so damn painful. Vera meets the same blue eyes from the images behind her eyes. These aren’t memories. They can’t be. How can she be through something that she doesn’t remember? She doesn’t want to shout in public, so she slips into an icy demeanor. Cold and harsh. Jaw set, eyes narrowed. Vera pushes off of the glass, standing as tall as she can, ignoring the feeling of her knees wanting to buckle. “Don’t say my name like you know me.” She orders chillingly while giving the stranger an unfriendly stare. “Stay away from me.” Vera points an accusing fingers at him.

Turning her back on the stranger, Vera begins walking in the opposite direction. Her chin is held high, steps are strong. She doesn’t look back. An act to keep her pride and sanity in tact. It dissolves the moment she turns a corner into an alleyway. Pulling her phone from her purse, she looks for a particular number and presses the call number. She hears a voice on the other side of the call, but she can’t pinpoint of it’s a voicemail or if it’s really the person she has called. She talks anyway. “Nicholas…. Nic…” She leans her head against the brick wall and looks to the sky. She’s too afraid of closing her eyes. “I need you to come pick me up. I’m at… Fifth and Water avenue. I…” She licks her dry lips. “Just come, please.”

Time stood still and moved too fast all at the same time. The air that hung between them felt frozen while the rest of the world kept moving around them, Isaac’s eyes still locked on Vera’s. Her face, her voice, it was all the same... it was her. But how could it be? 

Isaac’s body crumples into the cell, completely spent from that day’s session. New burns line his bare arms and hands as he wraps them around his middle, curling into the fetal position on the cold damp floor. His eyes blink open and closed, open and closed, the only thing he seems to be able to keep his mind on. Every part of him aches, his skin and blood on fire with something they’ve injected into him. He wants to throw up, but the effort to do even that seems to great. He can hear the muffled voice of the woman beside him, but he can’t find the energy to answer. Eyes just blink open and closed, open and closed. He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but he remembers Vera being pulled from her cell, their eyes connecting as she’s pulled away for her turn. He tries to muster a smile, but his frail figure just shakes lightly as he lays there. His eyes finally close. He’s not sure how long he sleeps, but when he wakes, he’s regained some of his strength, but Vera still isn’t back in her cell. He crawls into his cot and waits. 

Isaac watches Vera unravel before him, his own body caught frozen in time, small flashes of electricity dancing between his fingers and up his arms. He cannot breath, and is sure that at some point he will just pass out from lack of oxygen, but he doesn’t. He watches her panic, he watches her mind catch up with what she doesn’t seem to remember. She doesn’t remember the horrors they went through--she doesn’t remember him. Isaac swallows, shifting his weight when he suddenly feels that he can move, though his feet still feel like lead. He sees the physical change in her demeanour before her words come out and cut into his gut like a knife. 

She doesn’t remember him. 

Isaac waits, and waits, and waits. Eventually they come back for him, taking him away for another session, this one just as equally horrifying as the last. When he’s thrown back into his cell, he pulls himself up to the bars to peer into Vera’s, but she’s not there. Days pass... weeks... he’s not sure how much time passes, but he knows she’s gone. He’s sure they’ve killed her. He cries for what seems like forever, until he cannot even find the strength to cry anymore. He loses the last bit of hope he didn’t even realize he had. Even the electricity they pump through his veins can’t make him scream. He’s nothing more than an empty shell; a broken boy with nothing left to live for. When they take him from his cell on that last day, he’s sure that this is it. He can feel it in his body, that he cannot take much more, and he’s willing to just give in to the oblivion. Little does he know, when he’s finally surrendered it all, is when Kohl finally manifests. 

Isaac watches Vera turn, and promptly walk away, her figure getting farther, and he can’t find it anywhere in himself to follow her. She doesn’t remember him. She doesn’t know him.  He’s a stranger to her that brings back something she’s clearly worked to forget. His heart drops to his stomach and his head spins until someone bumps into him, sending him turning and running in the other direction. He collides with a few others, hearing various ‘ows’ and curses at him as the static in his body shocks those he comes in contact with. He rounds the corner of an alley where he presses his palms against a brick wall, eyes swimming with memories he’d tried to forget. He slams his hands against the wall as sparks fly off them in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He breathes out in anger and pain. His breathing is rapid and his heart races as he runs a hand over his face, turning to lean his back into the wall. He lets himself slide down till he’s sitting, knees bent and his face resting in his hands. Tears prickle the corners of his eyes, but he pushes them away, as he works to calm the nausea in his stomach and the spinning in his head. He sniffs and stays there for a few moments, catching his breath. He digs through his pockets, pulling out a small baggy of whatever he has left, and uses it, knowing he’ll regret it later, but also knowing he’d rather have his head swimming in a high than memories. Tossing the baggy aside, he leans his head back, waiting for the high to hit him, working to push back the thoughts that still make him sick. 

She doesn’t remember him. 

“Ok…” Her mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear herself above all the potential danger in the bar and truth be told, she didn’t believe that calling him just as Isaac was fine. Honor could see something darker and more sinister behind him at all times, a glaring fault, larger than any of his others. Normally, she would tuck information like that way, but he was dangerous, too dangerous, even. The last thing that she wanted to do was to disrespect him. “Yes… I, hmm, I, uh, made some more… Mr. Gray asked me and then when the delivery date… it passed, he wasn’t here.” She looked up at again, just to show that she was paying attention. “W-we could. I brought my car to the alleyway… I j-just need to disarm it… Did you want to come?”

“Right, um yeah.” Isaac shoves his hands into pockets, nodding quickly. “Yeah, Gray, he’s not around right now, he’s uhh... dealing with some shit.” Isaac rocked on his heels for a second, chewing on the inside of his lip. The girl seems shy and jittery, which was not unlike his own demeanour. Why Gray decided on him to be in charge of the Gamble, he’d never know, especially since he wasn’t exactly the greatest with people. Eyes pick up a bit when she speaks, and he nods again, glancing back giving a look to one of the bartenders to let them know he’d be right back. “Yeah, I can come help you with that.” He gestures towards the door, as the pair make their way outside. As he follows Honor, he quickly pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. An awkward silence hangs between them, and though it was not something that Isaac would normally go out of his way to fill, he couldn’t seem to feel the need to in that moment. “So um... how’d you learn to make weapons or whatever.” 

@ofvexation

there were many things that gray did that godrick did not personally understand.  however, as one of gray’s oldest friends, godrick knew better than to sit around wonder about why he did something and just make sure that his friend’s stupid-ass plans did not backfire on him … even if he had to babysit the interim owner of the gamble from the crowd of not-so-happy mercenaries.  he didn’t have to be a clairvoyant to know that bottle was aimed for isaac.  godrick caught a glimpose of the frustration isaac was feeling.  he looked over to the younger man and instructed, “you can’t let them know they’re getting to you.  they’re mercs.  you give them an openining and they’re gonna try and screw you over.  raw, hard and sandpapery.”  he paused, “okay, i'mma show you how to take control of these fuckers and then your donnie darko-ass needs to take charge of this.”  

godrick reached for any empty beer bottle from across the bar.  he looked over at isaac and gave him a wink before he took the bottle and threw directly at the mercenary that tossed the first one.  with a loud thwack, it hit the mercenary in the head and shattered.  "next time you try to kill the kid gray put up for us, i'mma drag you by your got-damned dumbo-sized ears and throw you out on the curb, you ugly-ass merc.“

Isaac looks up to the older man, scowling a little, angry at himself for taking on this position. He had no idea what he was doing and how the hell was he supposed to get any respect from these people? “Easy for you to say.” He shakes his head, slowly bringing himself up to stand behind the counter. “I’m not exactly a very intimidating person.” He shook his head, letting out a bitter ‘ha’ thinking about the fact that Kohl would likely be able to take charge of the place in all of three seconds, though he probably would have ended up killing half the people in a there. “You’re like a fucking giant and I’m just...” He shook his head again, running his hands over his face in frustration. Lips part as he’s about to say something else, but Godrick grabs a bottle and chucks it across the room, causing it to shatter over a man’s head, making Isaac jump. “Jesus fucking christ, dude.” He looks at Godrick with an expression of disbelief and mild amusement. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to do that.” 

“B-but you’re the boss, Mr. Isaac.” Her sister had told her to treat the Gamble owner with respect. It may have been because Prue and Gray had a history in the military together, but technically Isaac was the temporary Gamble owner for the moment. Honor looked away to quickly scan her surroundings. No one was standing or sitting too close to her, which was good. She hated it when she felt like she couldn’t breathe her own air. “Y-yes. I’m Honor… I… I didn’t get to formally introduce myself earlier, I apologize for that and the fact that the delivery is late… I was hoping that Mr. Gray would be back already or at least…” She looked back at Isaac and then glanced down. If she stared for too long his flaws and weaknesses became more evident. “I have… stuff to give to you… “ She kept her eyes trained on the counter between them. “Dangerous stuff… Yeah…”

She wasn’t wrong, Isaac knew that, but he’d never been the boss of anything, and it still felt strange hearing the words from her mouth. “Really, Isaac is just fine.” He assures her again, not feeling nearly old enough to be considered a Mr. He could feel the nerves coming off of her, something he was quite familiar with. He pushes his hands into his pockets, a tick that helped him feel in control as he listened to her. “Your delivery?” He gives her a confused look before his mind aligns with what she meant. “Oh, right! The delivery.” He nodded quickly, cursing himself for being so clueless in this position.  “I um... should we sort it out in the back office?” He furrowed his brow a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” 

The art of bartending is a skill that should not be under-looked, not in Jeanne’s opinion.  In any setting, when you were the pouring the drink, the livelihood depends on you - pour too much and the liquor takes hold too quickly but pour too little and the drinkers will complain;  it’s an act of balance, of timing and with the right words said, a theft to those who easily fall for the lush whispers of a woman with a smile and a gentle touch to the hand.  Tips were the easiest part of the job.  The woman might have been a new hire to the infamous bar, but she wasn’t new to the setting.  

When the man that the charge of bar was placed on approached her, Jeanne’s eyes watched gently - she noted his demeanor and his tone, body language always told more than what was said.  She rest her elbows on the counter, leaning her chin against one of her hands as she watched him.  His words came out meeker than she had expected of him and her head noded up and down as he spoke, almost as if she was anticipating each word that he said.  At the end of it, she gave him a smile.

“If the boss left the Gamble in your hands, then you should take it as a compliment,” Jeanne said as she shifted from her position.  As she stepped away from the counter, she looked at him, “Act like the new boss and the rest will follow.”

Isaac nods slowly. He knows what she’s saying is true, but he still struggles. He’s never been the most authoritative person, only ever really standing up for himself when there seems to be a perceived threat. He was really questioning Gray’s choices right now as he stood there. He’d read Gray’s book with all the information he apparently needed to know in order to run the gamble, but still he felt lost. “Yeah… right.” He nods again, knowing she’s right. But he didn’t know how to act like a boss, especially when his demeanor was less than threatening compared to the mercenaries that worked in the place.  “Any um, tips or suggestions on how to do that exactly?”

“It’s a lot to ask, I know,” Gray responded, “Lot of responsibility to throw on someone.” He smirked, “But that’s how my dad taught us anything. Experience was always the best teacher.” Gray stayed quiet as he watched Isaac go through the process of understanding what this offer was. There were plenty of people who encouraged him to take time off, but they had different intentions. Never one to let the cloud of haze that followed advice from some of the mercenaries, Gray decided to pick someone outside of their usual circle. He trusted Isaac, even if Isaac didn’t trust himself.

“Thanks. I mean it, Isaac,” Gray said, “You’re actually doing me a huge favor. I have some things that I need to handle …I just need some time.” He frowned; he just needed to figure himself out. The rest of the mercenaries would have to fall in line for this strange shift for power. He looked back up to Isaac, “Yeah, I’m not going to leave you without people who’ll help. I think it’ll be pretty quiet though. Some of them won’t come back until I do, but you’ll have a good bunch.” He paused, “Don’t let them walk over you. They’re mercenaries, if you give them any leeway, they’ll take advantage of you.”

Isaac brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes focused on the floor as Gray spoke. It was a lot to ask, but he knew Gray wasn’t one to take things lightly. He thought for a moment about the man in front of him, whatever he was dealing with must be big to need to separate himself from the Gamble for a while. Gray had offered him so much since he’d gotten to Ceres, Isaac felt he owed him. Taking in a breath he nods, gaze grazing back up to meet the man in front of him. 

“I mean, I’ll be honest with you man, I think this is a fucking stupid decision on your part.” His voice has lightened a bit, a small smile playing on his lips. “But, if you’re serious... I’ll give it a go.” He swallows, giving another short nod. This was usually the time people would shake hands or something to seal the deal, but Isaac keeps his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t know exactly how intimidating i’ll be to a bunch of fucking mercenaries though...” He shakes his head giving a small chuckle. “But um.. y’know, thanks man, or whatever.” 

Anxiety lifting in his stomach, grabbing hold of his heart causing it to beat faster, he found himself walking towards a woman—one of the bartenders he assumed. He felt lucky the drugs in his system kept the full extent of his nerves at bay, taking the edge off while they worked to keep Kohl dormant. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he bites into his bottom lip for a moment before speaking. “Hi, um… sorry… I don’t think we’ve met. I um… fuck sorry, I mean, I’m Isaac.” He stumbled over his words, mentally kicking himself for sounding so incredibly weak and pathetic. “Gray… he um, he left the Gamble… I mean. Fuck, I guess I’m supposed to be in charge of the Gamble now?” He rocks on his feet, looking down, already wanting to retreat back to the back office.

@amovrmort

“Yeah, a mistake,” Gray nodded solemnly. There was no other reason than his own foolishness that got him here. This was a mistake he would have to learn to atone with for the rest of his life, however. “I’ll explain to you about that later,” he ended the topic and returned his attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. He cast his glance back over to Isaac and waited for the younger man’s reaction to the news.

The look of disbelief on Isaac’s face made Gray laugh. “Yeah, you heard me,” Gray said, “I want to give you temporary charge of The Gamble for a bit. Don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you without people I trust to help you take care of things.” After this, he would personally have a word with Godrick to help Isaac out. Things could get rough with the change of power, even if it’s just temporary. “I think, you can rise up to the challenge, Isaac. I really do. I mean, I believe you can.”

Isaac’s face remained in a confused expression. Surely Gray must have been joking. Just pulling a prank on him or something, that was it. But the more Gray spoke, the more Isaac knew it wasn’t a joke. “You’re fucking serious.” He said as more of a statement than anything. He shakes his head, not sure what to think. Gray must have been going through something bad to leave the Gamble, let alone leave it in his hands. “You’re fucking crazy dude.” He says shaking his head some more, hands running through his hair as he tries to comprehend exactly what Gray is asking. 

On one hand, he feels he should turn it down, knowing that not only does he know nothing about running a business, but secondly he had Kohl in his head to worry about. Kohl could come out at any time, and the last thing he wanted was for him to ruin the Gamble. Glancing around the room, he thinks about the fact that it would be nice to have a roof over his head, and the chance to get ahead, maybe get his old apartment back. His eyes glance back up, brows furrowing together. “I mean... I guess if i’m not doing it on my own.” He speaks hesitantly, not sure if he’s making the right choice, but in that moment he can’t let it pass him by. 

At first, she thought that she could catch enough of a look inside by just waiting for people to open the door to the Gamble, but as people came and go, she found that the glimpses into the establishment just weren’t doing it for her. She couldn’t get enough information and her ability highlighted the flaws in her plan, sending her near constant tingles, like an awful version of the spider sense. So finally, with hesitant steps, she slowly pushed open the door and looked inside. “H-hello…” She asked softly to the nearest person. “Is Mister Gray or Mister Isaac inside? I… I need to talk to them…I-it’s really important!” 

It was a fairly quiet evening in the Gamble that night. Isaac was slowly trying to learn what it meant to be in charge of a place like the Gamble. He’d been relying on the few people who didn’t seem to hate him to guide him in the right direction, but so far he felt pretty hopeless. His eyes catch a glimpse of a woman standing outside, but he doesn’t think much of it, her image distorted through the glass. Shifting around the bar, he feels his heart rate increase and decrease as he worked through his mind on what he should be doing. The door opened and closed and the woman entered. He recognized her as someone he’d seen around, but she looked timid and maybe a little lost. Brows raise at her words, and a bemused smile pulling at his lips. “Just Isaac is fine.” He shakes his head, he’s not sure if he’s ever been called Mister at any point in his life. “It’s um… Honor, right?” He scratches the back of his neck, eyes glancing around thankful it was a slow night. “Gray he’s… I’m not even fuckin sure where he is. But he’s not around… What’s up?”

@queuedgodd

Fireworks and Birthday → Drabble (Isaac)

Fireworks cracked in the sky above as the two boys sat side by side on the rooftop of the abandoned warehouse. June 13th. A day they shared, though separated by a few years. Isaac brings the joint to his lips, taking a moment to breathe in before passing it over to Pax. They’d gotten lucky, there was a festival going on a few blocks over, which resulted in the sky lighting up, as though it was a special celebration just for the two of them. The last little while had been good. Kohl hadn’t made an appearance for what seemed like months, and the electricity in his bones seemed more settled than it ever had been. Isaac smiles a little, life seemed okay right now, and with his best friend sitting beside him, he felt like things were going to be okay. Isaac glances over to the younger boy and gives him a smile. “Happy Birthday, kid.”