it's vengeance, chica.

“Like?” Robbie repeated incredulously, raising a brow as he turned to look at Sara. He stared for a beat, eyes narrowed as he tried to determine whether or not she was serious. “A demon crawled into my head and tore my life to pieces and when it’s all over, I get the incredible experience of a goddamn eternity in Hell. So, no. Demons aren’t really what I like.”

It was far from the first time Robbie heard the joke. He was sure it wouldn’t be the last, either. If there was one thing selling his soul to the Devil had taught him, it was that people could be shockingly unoriginal with their puns. Turning away from the body at his feet, he let the fires of the Rider recede with a grimace, jaw clenched tightly shut until the transformation was over. When it was, he huffed out a brief puff of air and raised a brow. “That really the best you can do, Jones?” He eyed her, a little suspicious. There was no lasting damage from the 2x4 she’d hit him with, just like there was no lasting damage from the countless bullets he’d taken over the years or the number of men who’d managed to get a lucky shot in with a blade. There was never any lasting damage, but that didn’t mean Robbie wanted a repeat performance. That shit still hurt, even if it didn’t kill him like it ought to. “Am I under arrest, Agent Jones? Because I’m pretty sure your boss won’t want to press charges.” He was pretty sure he could talk Daisy out of throwing him in a cell, at least long term.

There was something familiar about her. The Rider, deep within his skull, raged at the sight of her, begged to be let out to turn her into dust, and Robbie clenched his jaw against the urge. It felt like standing across from Aida, but... different. The closest thing Robbie could pinpoint it to was walking into Sofia’s apartment to see the Darkhold open on the table. Whoever this stranger was, they were related to the damn book somehow.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said lowly, “but I think you’d better get out of here. You won’t like what happens next.” He couldn’t hold the Devil back forever, after all.

prompts taken from hieu minh nguyen’s work ,  not here . || @agenthamburger

Trying to forget. She said it like forgetting was easy. She said it like forgetting was possible. Robbie wasn’t so sure. The social worker who’d come by when Eli was arrested, the one who’d vetted Robbie for full custody while Gabe was still in a goddamn hospital bed, she’d said something similar. Your uncle isn’t a good man, Mr. Reyes. I can’t stop you from keeping him in your life, but… Maybe it would be better for your brother if you kept your distance. 

(As if anything Robbie did was good for Gabe. As if Robbie wasn’t just as bad as Eli.) 

Glancing back to her, Robbie smiled faintly in a way that didn’t quite reach his eye, a way that was more tired than anything else because that was all he was these days. He was so fucking tired. “He’s my family, Penny,” he said quietly. “I don’t have enough of that around to forget it. Don’t know that I want to.” Sighing, he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “What would you do, huh? Would you try to forget him?”

prompts taken from hieu minh nguyen’s work ,  not here . || @sofiasinclair

She knew the lesson. Robbie scoffed at that, turning to face her with his jaw clenched tightly and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You do, do you?” He snapped, unable to keep the bite from his tone. When he’d come back to find Sofia back in town, there’d been a mixture of feelings. Relief that she was all right. Anger that had never quite gone away after what she did. Frustration that she didn’t seem to have learned her lesson at all. 

As usual, Robbie clung to the feeling he understood best, the one that didn’t come with twenty years of baggage he wasn’t quite ready to unpack — and that was the anger. Being pissed off was easy. Without the flames of Hell burning around him, anger did a damn good job of keeping him warm. 

“You come here to tell me to shut up? Because you could’ve done that shit over text, Sofia. You want to keep on not listening to me, you can do that from somewhere else.”

(✉️ ➡️ hothead): What color was the arrow? My ex uses red and black arrows (✉️ ➡️ hothead): Yeah, we call those a coward’s weapons

(✉️ ➡️ my best friend ): and i have a feeling u would thank me for it, reyes (✉️ ➡️ my best friend ): i’m that obvious, huh? (✉️ ➡️ my best friend ): there’s nothing i can say to get you to delete it, huh?

(✉️ ➡️ Robbie): I guess so. I’ll meet you in half an hour. Slow down until I get there, yeah?  (✉️ ➡️ Robbie): You gonna give me a preview? Or keep me guessing?  

(✉ → flaming asshole): i dont think thats how it works, kid 

Trish tried not to let her shock show. Going to Hell and suffering in a way that humans couldn’t imagine here on earth, her final destination seemed to be a sure thing. After all, any good that she’d done in her time had been outweighed in the end by… what? Killing Alisa Jones? Addiction? They didn’t exactly give you a list of your wrongdoings when you arrived. “And where does the other guy think I’m going if I die tonight?” she asked.

She was surprised, and it struck Robbie that she must have thought there was no changing your destination once your soul had a lock on the coordinates. It wasn’t an entirely unreasonable assumption to make. Nobody took the Devil for a guy who believed in second chances, but in Robbie’s experience? It wasn’t impossible. His story had an ending that was inevitable, had become impossible to change the moment he made his deal with the Rider, but Trish? Trish still had a shot. He considered her question, listening to the Rider’s thoughts for a moment before shrugging. “Try not to die tonight,” he offered bluntly. “But tomorrow? The next day? Choice is yours, if you’re willing to choose.” 

A little something extra. It sounded like an understatement, but even while Thor’s mind was telling him that he didn’t need to know all the details considering that this man didn’t seem to want to destroy the planet – just the one man on the ground. But his heart… his heart was a different matter. And Thor always did more thinking with his heart than his head. Which was why, no matter how much his brain said to stop, there was still that charge in the air. “Only a little?” Thor questioned. Maybe it was just that — or maybe — maybe it was closer to the Hulk. Maybe this stranger had something else occupying his mind. (And that thought brought Thor a sense of calm. Or at least helped him feel a flicker of something outside of panic.) 

Thor looked at his hands and saw the sparks again, the energy arching a little wider – threatening to form bolts from his hands – but Thor quickly clenched his fist. Dug his nails into the palms of his hands “This isn’t—” Thor shook his head. He couldn’t admit that he wasn’t in control. He couldn’t admit that he had all this power and no way of dampening it. After all, Thor had just gone in on this guy for what he might have done to this planet, when Thor was just as much of a danger to it. Thor arched a brow and huffed a laugh, “That would probably help,” Thor admitted. Maybe not zapping Robbie specifically, but releasing the energy out in some form would help. Or at the very least, keep it from exploding from him like a grenade. “But I’d rather not, I don’t want to kill you.” 

As freaked as he was, the guy still spoke his mind. Robbie appreciated that a little more than he might have expected. He’d always liked honesty, always preferred people who were blunt to people who twisted the truth around to suit them. It was why he rarely bothered to lie to people about who and what he was, why he hadn’t let Daisy keep the ‘secret agent’ lie alive for Gabe once it was clear that his brother suspected the truth anyways. “Yeah, I guess it’s more than a little. Look, you want me to explain this shit I will, but can you hear it without losing your shit?” It was clear that the man in front of him was powerful, powerful enough to make even the Rider take interest. Panic from someone with powers as immense as that couldn’t lead to anything good.

He seemed to be trying to keep it in, at least, and Robbie felt a flicker of familiarity at the look on his face. He’d had moments like that, too. Moments where he fought to keep the Rider from breaking through, moments where he did everything in his power to keep the control in his hands instead of the Devil’s. Robbie laughed when the man admitted that zapping him would help, shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, you might be surprised at that. I’m a hard guy to kill.” Nothing had been able to manage it yet, and not for lack of trying. He’d taken a hell of an electrical blast from Aida the first time he’d met her, and all it had done was piss him off. “But, hey, probably better not to risk it. So, you really a god?” If he couldn’t release his panic in the form of a lightning blast, maybe a distraction was the next best thing.

It was much easier this way. 

Her emotions, while pleasant, also contributed to dysfunction. She had allowed herself to become caught up in what truly, were only simulations. A fallacy of emotions, nothing organic or natural about them. She was not organic. She was not natural. She was not designed to be. 

The fires faded, revealing blackened skin that with her emotions might’ve elicited sympathy. Instead, Eve saw this for what it was. A simple process, returning the man to his former state. Much like a system reboot. “You are unharmed,” she concluded, after conducting a thorough scan. She turned towards the pile of ash, already flitting away in the wind. “I cannot say the same for him, however,” she said, turning back to Mr. Reyes. 

Being a telepath in a crowed place wasn’t easy. It had taken Emma a long time to get a grip upon her powers and only listen to the minds that she wanted to. Now - she could shut them out completely if she wanted to. Sometimes the background noise was nice. At other times it was infuriating. But what she heard beside her? It was intriguing and Emma couldn’t help but stick her nose exactly where it didn’t belong. Which just so happened to be this man’s head.

The Spirit of Vengeance. Like the Devil? She asked the question curiously, sensing that the entity in this man’s head couldn’t speak to many but the man whose head he occupied. Emma was intrigued. Emma Frost. Telepath and psychiatrist. Yes, I can hear the both of you in there. You argue like a married couple. The blonde took a sip of her drink, before finally speaking aloud, “Buy you a drink?” 

Robbie should have been used to hearing voices in his head. He’d had the Rider up there for years now, offering his opinions about every little thing that happened throughout Robbie’s day and driving him crazy with his commentary. This, though... This was something new. It wasn’t anything like the first time he’d heard the Rider’s voice in his head, didn’t have the same feeling that came with the Devil’s comments. That was probably due to the fact that this woman wasn’t looking to be a permanent fixture in Robbie’s skull. Somehow, that made it weirder.

He calls me the Devil, the Rider replied, and Robbie rolled his eyes at the comment. The truth is something more complex. Robbie huffed, shaking his head minutely. Pretty sure he just called me dumb, he offered. I’m Robbie. He’s an asshole. You always butt into people’s heads like this? The woman next to him spoke aloud, and the familiarity of her voice informed him that she was the one who’d been in his head a moment ago. Emma Frost, she’d said. “Sure,” he agreed. “You mind if we keep the conversation verbal for a bit?”

“Bullets? Please,” Carol replied. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she got shot at by something other than a laser. This would be fun. She lit up, entire body glowing as she streaked across the sky, hovering above the roof. Carol had been in a lot of battles. While she was searching for a new home for the Skrulls, there had been run-ins with the Kree or their allies, and she got used to the sight of people’s eyes closing. That was a part of war, an unpleasant one, but sometimes necessary. The Air Force had taught her that, even if they didn’t let her fly combat, and the Kree had been ruthless in their mission. She wasn’t on a mission this time. There was no one giving her orders anymore. She had learned to trust her own instincts, and right now her instincts were telling her that the scum in this warehouse were done hurting people. 

Or at least, they would be.

She blasted a hole through the roof, and zipped inside. People were yelling, screaming already. Wasn’t hard to see why – Lil’ Fire Boy had come out to play. A macabre skeleton, completely on fire, blazing through the warehouse. Carol nodded down at him. The bullets were flying, aimed towards her now, and she had to roll through the air to doge the spray. Carol sent a blast down at the shooter, and another across the room. A cargo container exploded, sending white dust into the air. A couple of men shot forward, racing towards Flameo. Carol landed down in front of them, cutting them off. “Hey boys,” she called. “Do I get to play?” She blasted them both off her feet. “So, you think like, ten minutes tops here?” she called out to her companion. “Can’t be more than that.” 

The response brought a grin to his face, because the fact that she was bulletproof made this shit a lot easier. Robbie didn’t have a habit of worrying about strangers, but he would feel marginally guilty if the person he was teaming up with got shot on his watch. His conscience was often the Rider’s least favorite thing about his host, and Robbie knew it. That was probably part of the reason why he clung to it, in spite of the Rider’s influence seemingly dooming him to become less and less human with each passing day. Robbie wasn’t the man he’d once been, wasn’t the guy who’d stared his reflection in the eye after every night the Rider took the wheel and begged himself to feel something for the men he’d killed, but he wasn’t on the Rider’s level yet, either. He wasn’t Eli. He hoped he could stick to that.

That meant taking out the men in this warehouse, first and foremost. Robbie wasn’t sure the Rider was capable of smiling --- it was awfully hard to do when you didn’t have lips, he figured --- but if he had been, he would have grinned at the screams rising up to meet him. You really are a scary son of a bitch, Robbie told him, a bit more amusement than he normally would have allowed slipping in with the thought. The woman joined them in a heartbeat, and it was clear that she hadn’t been overselling her power, either. The Rider, silent as always, looked up to meet her eye, and the only means of communication he offered was a nod. It was all he was really capable of, unless someone was in his head like Robbie. Swinging his chain, he shot it forward and wrapped it around a man’s midsection, allowing the hellfire to eat away at him until there was nothing left but dust. The woman was right --- the whole thing wouldn’t take any more than ten minutes. 

(✉️ ➡️ Reyes): I’m staying at the Stark mansion. I’m thinking that’s going to be a no. I’m already getting enough shit from my family. Yours?  (✉️ ➡️ Reyes): I’m a spy. Of course, I do.   

Jen caught the grin on Robbie’s face and if she’d been a little bit drunker, she probably would have tried to slap it off his face. Or kiss it. At the current moment, she wasn’t sure which she’d rather do. Instead, she fake-glared at him and retorted, “Neither can you, babe.” Jen took her glass into her hand and took a long swig before pondering over Robbie’s question. Her eyes scanned the bar before she nodded towards two men that were playing a game of pool on the other side of the room. She leaned in a little closer to Robbie and murmured, “What do you think? Do they finish the game and fight after or fight in the middle and never finish?” 

Her glare only made his grin widen, because Robbie was a smug asshole when he wanted to be. “I don’t know. Where I’m sitting, looks like I’ve won more than you,” he retorted, brows raised in challenge. This wasn’t the kind of fun he usually had at bars, but he was enjoying it all the same. He watched her scan the room, curious to see what she’d zero in on. Looking to the game of pool, he snorted lightly. “No way they make it to the end of the round,” he said. “Cowboy boots over there’s gonna throw the first punch before leather jacket’s turn is up.”

Sometimes Jess wondered what kind of people she would be friends with if she hadn’t been raised by people who took fatal curiosity to a whole other level, if she wasn’t trained to be a spy on some level since before she could even walk. Now, the people that she found herself attracted to, the people she put time into, were the ones who were interesting, or useful, or novel – rarely was anyone a mixture of the three. Robbie might prove an exception to that rule, though there always was one (Jess wasn’t much fond of rules. Even the rules of espionage could be bent if you were good enough at what you did, and she was always good enough). Would she be friends with people who were confident, like Carol, people who encouraged her to carry out her crazy schemes? Would she find understanding in Nat, who always liked dissecting reactions, who treated people like case studies even without meaning to, in the same way as Jess did? Would she be standing here in front of Robbie if she didn’t find herself wondering more about the demon behind his eyes? She wasn’t sure – but she knew that she liked him, far outside of what he was capable of now. “I never went to school,” Jess said, with a shrug of her shoulders. She couldn’t miss something she never had, as far as she was concerned. “If it’s anything like Mean Girls, I resent it. That looks like a really good time, apart from getting hit by a bus at the end.” Ask Jess how to infiltrate a foreign embassy with nothing but a fake passport and a hairclip and she could do it. Ask her to balance an equation and she was useless.

“Well someone’s been practising,” Jess said with a smirk. “Don’t tell me my trivia questions are getting stale.” It was interesting, though, seeing something that got a reaction besides a cut off laugh or rolled eyes – it meant Jess was getting closer to something, and she always got a little thrill from that. “Do I even want to know how much one of those run for?” she asked, knowing that the answer, as always, was yes. “I’d say travel, but I already do that by sticking my thumb out and decking my way into Madripoor,” Jess replied, “so I’ll go for the standard – party boat, a la Wolf of Wall Street. I absolutely hate water, and fear is the enemy, so what better way to tackle that thing head on than to party my life away on my own deck, right?” Ghost Spider. The name was instantly familiar, as was the suit that gave Jess serious envy. “She hangs out with my kid! She’s great, honestly. Look at that, we have mutual friends and everything.” Dog people … “I’m pretty sure that’s just werewolves.” There probably were werewolves out there. Gross. “Wait, really?” Jess asked, and now it was her turn to perk up with interest. “You can still feel it?”

When you’d been to Hell and back, it wasn’t hard to recognize people who’d done the same. Robbie had seen the flames of the underworld reflected in Jess’s eyes the first time he’d met her, had understood as she’d approached him in a warehouse full of bodies he’d put down that she wasn’t the sort of person who was content sitting back and doing nothing at any given moment. She had the Devil in her, just like he did. And, just like him, she wasn’t afraid to let the Devil loose. It was necessary sometimes, something most people didn’t quite understand. They wanted the world to be generous, wanted forgiveness to fall from the skies like rain, but that wasn’t how things worked. The world never gave Robbie anything he didn’t take for himself, and he knew Jess understood that. People like them couldn’t rely on the kindness of angels. Sometimes, the Devil was all you had. “My experience wasn’t much like Mean Girls,” he admitted with a shrug, thinking back briefly. His high school experience had been teachers who didn’t understand the weight of the shit he was carrying and students whose lives seemed so goddamn easy that it was hard not to resent them. Gabe always made it seem like Robbie ought to regret dropping out, but he never had. He’d never felt more free than the day he’d walked out those doors with the knowledge that he was never going back.