Ry's Rambles

Chapters:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

A Reporter’s Perspective

Chapter Eleven

Chapters:

Prologue

“It wasn’t him.” You pull the pin on a chomper and roll it over the ledge. 

“He’s dead.”

“I know. It’s just another kid that Bruce manipulated. I got confused. That’s all.” You lay down. “Now he thinks I’m weak. ‘Slade will clean it up’. Whatever. I’m not weak.” Turning to your side, you get an idea. “And I’m gonna show him. Oh, I’m gonna show him.”

-

“Jinx!” Oswald shouts as your music blasts through the room. 

It takes him a few tries before you actually hear him calling. “That’s me!” You turn to him with a smile. 

Oswald looks pissed. “Half a dozen cops! Dead!” You laugh sheepishly. “An entire building, destroyed! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Actually, I do.” You show him a little glowing ball. Magitech. He takes it from your hand and looks it over. You give him a second to look it over before you hug him. 

An hour later you’re trying to figure out how to get the damn thing to work. “Ugh! Boring. Wow.” You flip through a book that was filled with research. Oh. “Here we go…” Leaning forwards, you scrutinize your device. “It’s all about these symbols. These runes. They form some kind of magic-y, math-y gateway.” You pick up the orb. “And this…turns it on.” You place the orb into the device. “Here we go.” Deep breath. Click. Boom. You’re blown back. The building is going up in flames. Your tools are scattered around. Jason’s still inside. You close your eyes. He’s dead. You look up at the destruction around the room. Sobs escape your lips. “No…No! It was an accident!” You scramble back. Your fault. “It was an accident!”

-

Gotham harbor was always cold, no matter the time of year. “I almost drowned here. In these waters.” Oswald says, running his fingers through the water. 

“You’ve told me a million times.” Oswald loved his ward. (Name). Jinx. The teen had been with him since they were twelve. Left behind by their family. By Batman himself. 

“Gordon isn’t the man people think he is.”

His ward scoffs at him. “Right. He was like a brother to you and then stabbed you in the back and blah blah blah.” They look cold. “Did I miss anything?”

He snickers. “I’ve got a different one for you.” He steps further into the water. “I let a weak man die that day.” He sinks into the water, letting the chill rush over his body. He comes back up. “I was reborn. Betrayal will eat you from the inside out. It can either break you…or create something greater.” Oswald looks over at his ward. “You need to let (name) die. So the fear of pain can no longer control you.” He holds out his hand and his ward takes it. “You’re strong now. Just like you were always meant to be.” Oswald guides them closer. “Jinx is perfect.” He submerges them beneath the water. “You are perfect.”

-

Jason was livid. There had been an attack at a gala. (Name). It had been (name). He had only recently found out that they were still alive. Apparently Bruce had abandoned them on the day he died. Left them at the ruins. Bruce never told him that they were still alive. They got away from the gala before he could catch them. Now he was searching Park Row for any information. No one wants to tell him anything, though. They didn’t seem afraid, per se, just tight lipped. 

An hour had passed before he was able to get any information. He got his answers from a brothel’s madam. “Have you heard anything about (name)? I think Oswald has them.”

The madam leans back in her seat, a puff of smoke escaping her lips. “Oswald’s number two is a regular, I can have Marco tell you where to find him.”

“I owe you.” He doesn’t say another word as he leaves. Another hour later and he’s set on a war path. 

Jason finds the man in the back of a dilapidated bar gambling with two strangers. No words are said as he knees the man in the face. When the man looks up to see his attacker, the first thing he says is his name. “Jason?” A fight ensues, the other patrons of the bar backing away to give the two space. “You never were patient, were you?” 

The fighting continues for a few more minutes before Jason gets the upper hand. “Where’s my sibling? Where’s he keeping them?!” 

“Keeping them? You mean Jinx?” The man looks smug. “They work for him.” He sneers. “They’re like his child.” The man loads up for another punch. “I’ll give them your regards.” A batarang hits his shoulder before he can strike. He looks up to see what hit him. The man quickly makes his escape after that. 

-

Beautiful blue light fills the room as you place the magitech onto the new device and switch it on. Runes surround you in almost ethereal patterns. You spin around in your chair, proud of your accomplishment. 

The next day you find yourself at the Iceberg Lounge. You lean against the bartop. It’s far too early in the morning for anyone else to be there other than the bar tender. “Chuck!” You’re rolling the magitech orb across the bartop. The man tries to correct you, but you don’t care enough to listen. “Nice try, Chuck.” You have other concerns. “So, what's all the hubbub?” There was something going on and Oswald wasn’t giving you any information. The meanie.

“Um. The boss wants us to grab someone up.” He pours you a drink. Juice. Probably. 

You roll the orb again. “Someone? Anyone?” Yanking it off the table, you look up at him. “Who are you grabbing?”

Chuck looks uncomfortable. “Some boys.” He must realize how it sounds and quickly corrects himself. “I mean, I mean not…I’m not grabbing boys. Well, other than those ones, I guess.”

Chatty. “Focus. Who? Why wasn’t I invited?” 

“They…they got into a fight with the boss's right hand. Did a number on him.”

A number? “Oh really? Which number?” You know that it’s just a figure of speech, but that’s not the point. The man tries to explain and you interrupt him with a hug. “You’re doing great, Chuck!” You release him after attaching a glitter chomper to him. “For your troubles.” You’re gone before it goes off.

A puff of strawberry watermelon vapor fills the apartment as the lights flicker on. “Those will kill you eventually, you know.” Jason has to duck out of the way as (name)’s friend throws the closest thing to them directly at his head. A hard cover copy of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’. It was a surprisingly accurate throw that would have broken his nose if he moved a second later. “You must be Pierson.” 

The young adult looks exhausted. “Clearly.” They shove past him and grab an energy drink from their fridge. “Why are you in my house, Todd?” 

Jason raises an eyebrow. He was in his Red Hood gear and he’s legally dead, so it’s odd that they know who he is. “How do you-“

“I know things. Answer my question.” He wonders if they’re always this standoffish. 

“(Name) comes over here a lot. I want to know why.” He’s not suspicious. Not really. He’s just…protective. That’s all.

Pierson looks at him for a moment before going over to their pantry. “Do you want something to eat? I have granola bars. I really need to go grocery shopping.” They mumble the last bit to themself. Jason doesn’t answer. They toss him one anyway. “You’re crossing into dangerous territory, y’know.”

“What?”

They walk past him again and hop onto the counter top. “Obsession disguised as worry.” Pierson pops open their energy drink. “You really want to know why (name) is over here so much?” They take a sip. “It’s to get away from y’all.”

Their words hit him like a ton of bricks. “Excuse me?” Jason storms over to them, trapping the younger adult on the counter. He’s angry.

Pierson looks nonplussed. Almost smug. “Does that feel good? That anger? Do you wanna hurt me?” He does. He wants to hurt them for being too close to (name). Jason’s hand is around their neck in seconds. “You gonna hurt me, Jay?” His fingers twitch and Pierson tilts their head. They’re entirely too calm. 

“I could kill you” He applies a little pressure. 

“You could try, but I have contingencies…How’s Bruce?” Their breath hitches slightly when he adds more pressure. 

“You know.” It’s not a question. 

“Everyone will if I die. I wonder how fast Mr. Wayne can scrub the internet.”  Diabolical. Jason loosens his grip. He doesn’t remove his hand though. Pierson seems perfectly content to let him keep it there. “Your obsession is irrational. I’d also want to get away if I were (name).”

They’re right. Jason is able to accept that. He doesn’t know how to respond. The steady beat of Pierson’s pulse keeps him grounded as he thinks. “Do I scare them?” 

Pierson tilts their head in the other direction. “No? It’s just suffocating. And it’s not just you. You’ve had to’ve noticed everyone else’s behavior.” He thinks about it for a moment. It’s true. Some of the family had also become obsessive lately. The realization makes him reconsider some of his actions. It feels like a spell has been lifted. “You alright there, Jay?”

“Hm?” Jason is jolted back to the present. His hand is still around Pierson’s throat. He taps their neck with his index finger. “You’re surprisingly calm for someone whose house got broken into.” The conversation shifts. 

Jason finally takes the time to look around the apartment. There’s papers spread around the table and a bunch of random books. There are several dents in the walls. “You’re not the first person to break in. I’m just glad you didn’t break the window.” Pierson goes quiet for a second. “Do you think you’d be able to help (name)?” 

“With what?”

Pierce puts their hand on his chest. “Get the others to back off.” Jason looks down at their hand and removes his own from their throat. “Kevlar? Nice choice.” An absentminded comment. “The rest of your family is going to get…worse. If they’re not stopped.”

It’s Jason’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?” 

“(Name) is the only person in your family that isn’t a vigilante. The rest of you are overly paranoid. Strong sense of justice and all that. It’s not unusual to be protective, but y’all’re also prone to obsession and violence. I’ve seen it. That’s a dangerous combination.” Jason doesn’t like that they’re right. 

Jason takes a step back and Pierce takes another sip of their Monster. “So you want me to stave off their affection?” 

“Obsession.” They correct him. 

“Fine. Obsession.” He grabs Pierce’s vape out of their hand before they can take another hit. “How do you propose I go about doing that?” 

The younger adult looks appalled that he took their vape, but doesn’t comment on it. “That’s up to you, really. I don’t know them as well as you do.” He guesses that it’s settled then. (Pierson never gets their vape back.)

-

“So, he’s on our side?” You ask over the phone.

Pierce sounds tired. “Yes. Do you really need to involve yourself in their lives this time around? I’m sure stopping a calamity doesn’t mean you have to be a part of their lives.” Your friend is correct, but at the time you figured it wouldn’t hurt. You hadn’t accounted for the tropes to kick in. “Also, your brother stole my vape.”

“Good. Those’ll kill you eventually, you know.” 

On the other side of the phone, Pierce makes a sound of frustration. “He said the same thing.” They pause. “That’s besides the point. Jason agreed to keep the family off your back for a while.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Glad you got through to him. Sorry that he broke in unexpectedly. At least I got a break this chapter.” 

“Do you have to poke at the fourth wall?” Pierce laments. They’re not supposed to be here either, so they don’t have any real ground to stand on. “Look, (name), I pushed him in the right direction. The rest is up to him. It’s outta my hands.” There’s some clattering on the other side of the call. “I gotta go, (name). I got more visitors. Lemme know how everything goes. Love you. Bye!” The line goes dead and you’re left on your own. You can already feel the shift in the air. Things are going to be different this time.

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The kids on the street used to call you a jinx. “You’re nothing but bad luck.” they’d said. Every time you tried to pickpocket or steal with the other kids, you were the reason they’d get caught. You were young. Inexperienced. You met a boy who was a few years older than you. Jason Todd. He was your rock. Your brother. He taught you almost everything you knew. Both of your lives changed when the two of you were brought in by a man named Bruce Wayne. Batman. Things were easy. Things were simple. 

Then the training started. Jason was going to be a sidekick. Robin. Stupid name, honestly. There was an older one. Dick. Nightwing. He thought you were bad luck. You had foolishly thought you could be a part of their world. You thought you could help. For four years you held on to the dream that you could be a part of something greater. Something good. It was raining when he died. You thought you could save him. You thought you could help. You only wanted to help.

You had always been good with technology. Tinkering really. You didn’t know about the explosives. You didn’t know that your little toy monkey would blow the place sky high. It was supposed to be a small blast. A distraction. Bruce had carried Jason’s bloody corpse from the wreckage. You desperately tried to reach out to him, but Bruce screamed at you. He’d told you to stay away. Said that Dick was right. You were a Jinx. He’d lost a son. You’d lost everything. He left you standing there in the rain. 

Your salvation had come in the form of a Penguin. “Hello, little Bird.” He’d lowered himself down to your level with a bit of difficulty. “Where’s your family?” You had been sobbing. Unable to rationalize. You sought comfort in the first person who showed you any emotion other than disdain. You had thrown yourself into his arms. Told him that they had left you. That they’re not your family anymore. He told you it’s okay. You’d show them. You’d show them all.

-

Six years had passed since then. You were all grown up. Eighteen. Bored. Oswald had you watching some cargo that was being transported. You weren’t paying too much attention when he was explaining it. Some street drugs and some kind of water? Whatever. You were at the docks while the cargo was being moved. That’s all that mattered.

The sound of a grappling hook being deployed jolted you out of your thoughts. Bats. You backed into the shadows. The sound of Oswald’s henchmen getting the shit beat out of them filled the air. Footsteps echoed as one of the bats made their way in your direction. A red emblem on his chest. He was opening some of the boxes. He paused when he got to the vats of water. “Bruce.” The man spoke into his comms. “They’ve got pit water.” There was a moment of silence before he made his way further through the vats. You’re immediately on the move. You rushed past him, your chomper grenades biting into the fabric of his suit. Tick. Tick. Boom. “Shit.” He was blown back. 

The other bats were there in an instant. You make your way through the cloud of dust and smoke. Finally revealing yourself. All of them stared at you. “Hi.” That’s the only thing you said before you attacked. You took two choppers out and pulled the pins out with your teeth. You were able to take two of the bats down. The next few seconds were a blur of metal, fists, and explosions. Adrenaline ran through your veins. A clang drew your attention. One of them had kicked over one of the vats. The one in red was about to set the stuff on fire. You hit him. Hard. His mask was knocked off his face. He looked back at you. You let out a gasp. “Jay?” It’s not him. It can’t be him. You saw him die. You watched him die. “You killed him.” He’s dead. You grabbed your gun and shot him. 

“No!” Bruce. The big bad bat. He rushed over to the man. A small figure ran at you as it unsheathed its sword. One of the other bats pulled him away. Nightwing. 

You barely registered it as you positioned your minigun. You shot without discrimination. Wrong. Everything was wrong. Why was this happening? “Because you deserve it.” Shut up. By the time you ran out of bullets, the bats had retreated. One of Oswald's associates was yelling at you. You only let out a noncommittal hum.

-

“So. What happened?” 

Oswald was talking to you as you sat on his desk with your legs to your chest. His right hand man had just left the room after explaining everything. “He already told you.”

“I want your side.”

A moment of silence passes. “…one of the bats. His mask came off. He…looked like Jay.” 

You had told Oswald about Jason a long time ago. “Your brother is dead. You know that as well as I do.”

He was right. He always was. “I know. Brothers. Right? One moment they’re there and the next moment they’re dead.” You messed with his umbrella.

“Today’s screw-up will set us back weeks.” You gave a small apology as you continued to fidget with his umbrella. “I need to know that I can rely on you.” He grabbed your wrist. “Jinx. I’m doing this for you. For us. For the people of Gotham. The children of this city deserve more than these scraps.” 

“…it won’t happen again.”

“Slade will clean up today’s mess.”

You froze up. “Wilson? That freak couldn't clean a closet with an RPG.” Personally, you hated the man. He was creepy and you’re not even sure that he’d be allowed within fifteen feet of a school. 

Oswald just waved you off. “He’s efficient. You should focus on your gadgetry.” You groaned. “Take some time.”

“I don’t need time.”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Take some anyway.” You stormed off after that.

You broke someone's jaw today. If presented with the opportunity, you’d do it again. Pierce is currently talking to a police officer on your behalf. The reason Pierce is talking to the police on your behalf is because you didn’t want the family to get involved. They’re already breathing down your neck, you don’t need to add fuel to the fire. “May I remind you, officer, the only reason you still have a job is because I settled your debts with Cobblepot.” They were good at blackmail. Pierce didn’t do it often since they had no real reason to, but they tend to bend their morals when it comes to helping you out.

“Are you threatening me, kid?” You could hear Pierce cussing him out in their head.

Your friend rolls their eyes. “No sir, just reminding you.” The officer eventually relents and lets you go. The other officers seem unfazed. You don’t get arrested often, but Pierce always bails you out whenever you do.

Enough about them, though. Presently, you had to get back home. You teleport straight into your bed once you’re out of sight from nearby people. “(Name)?” Tim was knocking at your door. You had yet to clean off the blood from your scuffle. If you could call it that. “Are you in there?”

“Don’t come in!” You had already used restoration on yourself once today. Hot coffee got spilled on your shirt and you couldn’t really teleport home in the middle of a school day. There’s blood on Alfred’s watch as well. That’s a more pressing matter, in your opinion. He’d told you that it would protect you. It did. You hop into the shower in the bathroom connected to your room. A whole twenty minutes pass before you come back out. Mostly because you don’t want to deal with Tim. 

By the time you open the door, Tim is no longer there. Damian is immediately in your personal space. He’s checking you over for any sign of injury. “You have blood on your watch.”

Fuck. “It’s not mine.” That probably wasn’t the best thing to say at the moment. There isn’t really a good way to backtrack on that.

Damien's head jolts up. “What?” 

Might as well tell him. “The blood. It’s not mine. He insulted my mom.”

“Does father know?”

“No. And I’d like to keep it that way.” It’s more of a warning than a request. Bruce still barely acknowledges your existence, other than the occasional nod in your direction. He had some surveillance placed on you, but it was minimal.

Damian nods in understanding. “Then father shall not be informed.” He pauses for a second. “You truly are my sibling.” That’s probably the nicest thing Damian has ever said to anyone. 

You nod in acknowledgment. It’s the closest Damian would allow to gratitude and you know it. “Anyway, Dami, it’s time for dinner.” That’s what he had come up to tell you. Might as well get ahead.

-

Tim Drake. Stalker extraordinaire. He knows everything about everyone. Which is why it bothers him that he barely knows anything about (name). They haven’t really been on the forefront of his mind until recently. Steph had brought something up about (name) getting injured. Speaking of. (Name) takes a seat at the end of the dinner table. Tim doesn’t know why they sit so far away from Bruce. So far away from him. They slip into easy conversation with Damian and Jason. The latter seems to be fussing over them like a mother hen. It would be funny if it wasn’t so unnerving. He isn’t used to seeing Jason care about things. 

“Please stop staring.” Tim is jolted out of his thoughts. It feels like electricity in his mind when (name) addresses him. They look at him with an emptiness in their eyes that could turn a lesser man to stone.

“Sorry, (name). Didn’t mean to stare.” That was a lie. He needs to know everything about them. What better way to learn than to watch? 

Damian clicks his tongue. “You’re a bad liar, Drake.” He doesn’t elaborate and goes right back to talking to his sibling. It’s domestic. Normal. He forces himself to look away. (The jealousy brimming underneath his skin doesn’t even register.)

-

You are going to lose your shit. Subconscious thought is something you tend to pick up on when you’re not actively listening to the conscious thoughts of those around you. Tim was starting to show the signs. The yandere signs. If you could fight the author of this world, you would. “So, (name), how was your day?” Dick cuts in, trying to relieve some of the awkwardness in the air.

“It was good.” Minus the violent outburst, but you’re not going to mention that. There’s a lull in conversation. You go back to eating your dinner. Alfred had made your favorite. 

The rest of the family goes back into easy conversation after you stop talking. You’ve reached your social interaction limit for today. There’s a buzz in the air that you can’t quite place. A different energy. It’s not foreboding, but it’s not comforting either. It’s just there. You decide that the best course of action is to ignore it for now. Alfred places some dessert in front of you and all is forgotten. 

-

Jason can tell that something is off with his duckling. They’re clearly still riding on the coattails of adrenaline. Their posture is tense. There’s no bruising, so it clearly wasn’t a fight. He feels like a mother hen. (Name) looks at him. They look like they know exactly what he’s thinking. “Stop looking at me like I have two heads.” 

“Sorry, Ducky. You look tense. Is everything okay?” The nod he gets in reply is exactly what he expected. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” They give him the most deadpan look he has ever seen in his entire life. So, clearly not.  “I’m fine, Jay.” He doesn’t believe them. (Jason can’t shake the feeling that they’re starting to become wary of him.)

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Pierson Reed. Modern day muckraker and GCPDs resident menace. “C’mon Harvey, I just need a little information!” The aforementioned menace was currently leaning on the back of Harvey Bullock’s desk chair. They needed information about an ongoing investigation to share with the public. “I’m just tryna help y’all get ahead of the media frenzy.”

“Kid, you know damn well that I can’t give you anything yet. Don’t you have better things to do? It’s three o’clock on a Saturday.” A few of the surrounding officers watch in amusement. This was a regular occurrence for them. Pierce would come in and bug at least one officer or detective for information, then the commissioner would appear and drag the young reporter away.

Speaking of…”Pierce, what are you doing here?” Commissioner Gordon makes his entrance. 

“Heyyy, Jimothy.” The young reporter hops on over to him. “I need information.” Their voice drops a bit. “The public is gettin’ antsy and I’ve been gettin’ inquiries.” 

-

Jim lets out a sigh. Pierce was the unofficial spokesperson for public information on ongoing investigations. Was it professional? No. Did it work? Yes. “What kind of inquiries?” He puts his hand on the small of their back and gently guides them out of the way of a passing officer. 

“The usual. How far along are you, what kind of evidence do you have, where were you last night around nine fifty-seven?” The kid had an odd habit of throwing in random questions to catch him off guard. 

The commissioner was used to it by now. “I’ll give you what we have later, Pierce. You look like you haven’t slept.” He knows he’s right when Pierce looks to the side to avoid eye contact.

“He’s right, kid, you look like shit.”

“I’ll beat your ass, Harvey.” It was a constant back and forth between these two. And, if Jim was being honest, he placed his bets on Pierson. “Besides, I haven’t had time to sleep. I’ve been interviewing people, writing reports, breakin’ and enterin’, and taking pictures.” Jim chooses to ignore the breaking and entering bit. 

Harvey, however, does not. “B&E, kid? Really? We could book you for that.” He means it as a joke, but Jim can feel Pierce stiffen up beneath his hand. Harvey notices. “I’m joking, Reed.” 

Pierce lets out a sigh of relief. They remind Jim of their father back when the two of them were detectives. Same mannerisms and everything. Even the slight accent that they try to suppress. Pierson’s dad was a private investigator now, so Jim wasn’t really able to talk to him much anymore. “How’s your dad?” 

“My dad? Oh. Yeah. He’s good. Somewhere off the coast of Massachusetts. Business.” Their answers are short and clipped. “Backwater town with no cell reception.” 

Sounds about right. The kid’s dad tended to disappear from time to time. Even as a detective, the man couldn’t stay in the same place for too long. “He send letters?” 

“Hardly. Mom thinks he’s engaged in a torrid affair with his partner. You know, the man he named me after?” He was familiar. “Be who you are, but at least wait until the divorce is finalized.” 

Harvey snorts and Jim has to stifle a laugh. “Touché.” He guides them away by the small of their back once again. “I can’t share all the details about the case, but I can give you enough to keep the public satisfied.” Jim leads them to his office. He hands them a few files to look through. 

If it was any other reporter or journalist, he’d turn them away immediately. Pierce was a special case. “Hey, Jimothy.” 

“Hm?”

“Did you notice that all of the flooring at the crime scenes are hardwood?”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Pierce walks over to him and lays out the crime scene photos. “Look. You see how the blood is soaked into the floor? That means that the floor is hardwood. It’s probably not important, but it’s pretty cool, right? It all looks brand new too.”

Jim stares at them for a solid minute. So far no one had been able to find anything to connect the victims together. Sure, this might be a thin lead, but it’s a lead nonetheless. “You’re a genius, kid. I’ll be back.” He leaves Pierce in the office and goes to speak to Bullock. 

It’s several hours later before he comes back. The lead had panned out. By the time he gets back to his office, Pierce has fallen asleep at his desk. They had notes scattered around his table and their computer was open with their report halfway finished. He knows he should wake them up. He knows that he should, but they look so peaceful. Pierce obviously hadn’t slept properly in days. Now they were passed out at his desk. Jim drapes his suit jacket over their shoulders and lets them sleep.  

“You know, Jim, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared for them.” Harvey leans against the doorframe of Jim’s office. “The kid would make a great detective.”

“Pierson’s father would kill me if I ever even thought about putting them in the field.” 

“Yeah, when he’s done with his ‘torrid affair’.”

-

“I can hear y’all, y’know.” Pierce peeks at the two men from where their head is resting on the desk. “You’re very loud.”

“Sorry kid.” Harvey supplies a half-assed apology.

Pierce gets up with a groan, stretching languidly as they stand. A few joints can be heard popping. Jim’s jacket falls off their shoulders. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty years old.” Both men are clearly amused. Pierce cocks their head to the side in confusion. “What’s so funny?” 

Harvey just pats Jim on the shoulder. “I’ll let you have this one, buddy.” Then he leaves the room, leaving Pierce looking even more confused than before.

“What’s funny is the fact that I have tattoos older than you, Pierce. I’m more than twice your age.” 

The young reporter’s eyes dilate slightly. They suddenly feel like hunting the man for sport. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jimothy. I should go. I take it you caught the culprit?” They don’t wait for an answer. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the rest of my report. G’night, sir.” 

Pierce gets home a lot later than they planned on. They make some chicken and rice. They’re just about to put some hot sauce in their food when something falls behind them. Someone’s here. Pierce spins and chucks the bottle in the direction of the intruder. It shatters against the wall. “Woah! Watch it, Pierce. It’s just me.” 

Oh. It’s (name). “Cheese and rice, (name)! You really need to warn a bitch next time.”

“Sorry, Pierce.”

Pierce waves their hand dismissively. “It’s fine. So, what's up?”

“I need your help.” Well fuck.

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