#akatrishtalks

The Raft prison break had kept the Rider busy. He and Robbie were out nearly every night now, taking care of the escapees and sending them where they really belonged. If Robbie was being honest with himself in a way he rarely was, he was having fun with it. The Raft housed the worst of the worst, after all, and the Rider confirmed as much every time he saw one of them. He was just finishing up a particularly nasty piece of shit when he heard footsteps at the mouth of the alley, and if he’d had control of his body, he would’ve sighed. In L.A., people knew better than to interrupt him, but people were stupider in New York.

Turning to face the woman, the Rider paused as he took her in. Immediately, Robbie was working to reel the Devil in. Give me the reigns, he ordered, but the Rider hesitated. She doesn’t belong here, the demon pointed out. Neither do we, Robbie shot back. Let me drive. There was more hesitation than there typically was, the Rider fighting him a little as he took back control, but the Devil seemed to shaken to put forth any real effort in keeping Robbie under. When he was finally himself again, he studied the blonde with watchful eyes. “You can shoot me if you want,” he offered, “but something tells me you know it’s not gonna go your way. I’m thinking me and you might have a couple things in common here.” Send her back, the Rider whispered, though he still sounded more confused than anything. Hell is meant to be eternal. Robbie would have rolled his eyes if not for the woman facing him now. Really? You’re bitching about someone getting out of Hell? Me and you do that shit all the time. Pipe down, asshole. Let me talk to her.

When Bobbi came back from the dead, she did it metaphorically. She’d never actually died, had only used a cadaver as a body double to convince people she had. It was something that she was seriously glad for. For all the trauma she’d faced, she didn’t think she could have handled dying and coming back. She’d seen what Coulson was like, heard from Mack and Hunter just how bad things had gotten when they’d helped him look into his memories of the process. People who died, in Bobbi’s experience, didn’t come back the same.

But still... Getting a second chance had to be nice. That was something Bobbi did have a little bit of experience with. She was on a chance far passed her second now, and making sure someone else’s second chance worked was a pretty good way of giving back. She’d never met Trish Walker before her death, and she hadn’t met the sister that was in the process of joining Coulson’s team, either, but that didn’t matter. Trish deserved for her second chance to work, and Bobbi could help make that happen. 

Putting her stethoscope around her neck, she walked into the medical pod where Trish was currently laid up, offering the blonde a smile as she entered. “Trish, right? I’m Dr. Morse. You can call me Bobbi, though --- I kind of prefer that. Titles start to feel pretty stuffy around here after a while.” She wasn’t always great with people, but Bobbi’s bedside manner had always been decent. Small mercies, her mother would have said. “I’m going to be checking up on you while you’re staying here. How are you feeling today?”

SEND ME A VIOLENT/DEATH THEMED STARTER!

“you didn’t have to kill them!”

Kilgrave had slipped up, not taking someone with him when he went to see Jessica. If he’d had a third party, she wouldn’t have almost crushed his ribcage with a desk. So, since then, he didn’t go anywhere without someone else. He couldn’t be bothered to just use people he knew Jessica was close to, so he used children. She’d really showed her hand when she’d bitched about that boy, from the house he’d lived in with Daisy. And he’d seen photographs of Jessica cradling the child’s head as he died, so he knew she wouldn’t do anything to him if he had a child with him.

But now the little girl had served her purpose. He’d reached Patsy Walker’s home and not run into Jessica, and now he had her sister there. As pissed as she was supposed to be at Patsy, he doubted she would attack him if he used Patsy as a shield. And he had further use for the little girl, so he said, “Kill yourself.” And she’d obeyed immediately, as children usually did. She pulled out a letter opener from the pocket of her dress – he always kept them armed, now, as an extra contingency – and stabbed herself in the neck.

@akatrishtalks