#fenrik

As was such a common occurrence it would be a surprise to absolutely no one, Dawn was parking her car outside the compound, a bag full of food on the passenger seat. The season had just kicked off, which meant she was busy. Training, games, media days, and fan engagement consumed Dawn's life. When she wasn't working, she was recovering and focusing on doing things she loved. To put it simply, she was busy, but more importantly she was happy.

Which of course, led to a surplus of food and the desire to eat it with her favourite person (and share leftovers with her grumpy friends) when she had the time. As she let herself in, her cousin was no where to be seen, but Fenrik was. She set her bag down on a counter top, asking, way too casually, "Who are those guys in the big truck outside?"

Elba had flipped her phone open in total anticipation of dialing one number in particular, where she would spend her evening asking about the mundane while pacing around her cabin, her cell tucked between her ear and shoulder until her neck was begging for mercy. Instead, she allowed her feet to carry her where she wished. Where they could speak of their boring lives face to face. Elba stepped foot into her car, a 2015 Acura NSX. There was still disbelief that she’d even won the thing last August in a street race, the midnight blue finish one of the prettiest things she’d ever seen. With the vehicle finally registered in her own name, she was more than ready to whip it all around town. Modestly. Maybe, maybe race it too. If Fenrik could look under the hood and approve everything first off.

“Are you open for business?” Elba had greeted him after her Converse had hit the pavement of his garage, tossing him her keys. She’d immediately made herself and her car right at home, a coy smile playing at her lips as it did every time she thought of, talked to, or looked at the redcap now.

With her hand clenched around a cold glass of vodka — on the rocks, of course — Hilda stared across her cabin, watching her friends interact with Priscilla. Even Fenrik had come, which she hadn’t been sure of. They hadn’t spoken since their argument, when he’d said he didn’t care about her personal life. That’s what had made her unsure he’d come to meet Priscilla. There wasn’t anything more personal than that. 

It was maybe the hit of the ethereum she had taken when she’d “gone to the toilet” fifteen minutes ago, but, for whatever reason, Hilda felt a strange warmth. For one night, she could pretend this was her real life. Married. Surrounded by friends. She could pretend she had a sense of belonging and happiness she hadn’t since she’d left the circus. She could pretend she’d found contentedness. The only thing she couldn’t do, was get used to the feeling. None of it was real. Priscilla wasn’t real. She and Fenrik were fighting. It was all a house of cards, even if it was one she liked the feeling of it, for now. 

The thing with being a captain, that a lot of her crew could never grasp, was the business of it all. Sure, a lot of the fun came from the hunt, the thrill of finding the treasure they’d set out for, the drinks shared whilst inspecting their ways on the way back to the island. But as soon as they hit the shore, it was all about turning that into a real profit. Money spoke a lot louder than jewels, after all. Especially when you were like Nadia, with a taste for the finer things in life. 

And today, that’s where Fenrik came in.“And your team can handle that?” She was skeptical, of course. The plan was, for all its purposes, a risky one. But if they pulled it off it could benefit them all. Nadia dealt in gold, Fenrik in weapons. And the people they sold to wanted power. There was money in it all.

Though her clothes at the time of the event had been black as night, Dusty could smell him with each step she took. The blouse was dumped outside of the record store caddy-cornered to Treaty. Her pants -- oh, her favorite fucking skinny jeans, were disposed in the dumpers behind Up & Atom Burger. It was intense and, honestly, excessive considering how often each territory’s land ran red with blood. Adrenaline was being worked out in ways it hadn’t been in years, sitting on a largening secret. That’s all she could say about that. This third killing hadn’t left her in shock as much as the other two, because this time, Dusty may have been in the drivers seat.

Slowly, but hopefully without giving the creeps, Dusty rolled up to the shop so fucking far out of town, it certainly couldn’t be a real zip code she was arriving to. As a warning, Dusty flashed her headlights and parked as close as possible. She piled out, not expecting the sudden nip to the air as she did. That damn kitchen knife remained pressed to her hipbone, hidden behind the jean’s waistband.

“I come in peace.” She may have been quoting Star Trek, but she couldn’t muster throwing up the sign today.

It had started early in the summer, when Dawn was throwing herself into her training as a distraction from what had happened with the men at the compound - from those dead eyes that had stared into her. Of course, work was never an appropriate distraction, she knew that more than most. But it was when she started to see those very familiar eyes, the dead ones that had since been haunting her, she felt like she was going crazy. She ignored it, she had to. But as the warm months went on and she tried to live out her life she couldn't help the unnerving feeling she was being watched. And that man --

As she entered the kitchen of The Compound, she let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good. You're here."