Chasing Fairytales

Chasing fairytales.




In the vast , yet finite veil that engulfs this little rock there are individuals among you – each special in their own way by either birth right or rite of passage. They can see what no one else can, they pierce the veil and stare at the gaping maw of the darkness inside and the monsters within. And they are the only ones who can stop them; the balance of a world clutched fearfully in the collective hands of a chosen few.

This is the life of a Grimm.

Exceptional yet ordinary, superior yet common, unique yet utterly blended into the canopy. They are walking contradictions – to your idea of humanity, to the world around them, and lastly to their very essence. But even among this special club there are some that outshine the rest. Old, grounded names into the very fabric of reality. Names that survived millennia of hunting and fighting. Names that even among Grimm’s manage to shake to the very core.
Du’Buhuir is the oldest among this short list of ‘old and powerful’. Strong, independent, and fiercely protective of humanity. They were also among the most hunted of them all. And, after 3000 years of systematic genocide, the oldest and most powerful family name in the history of the Grimm’s was down to its last two survivors: Cathaine Eleigh Du’Buhuir and Clarisse Amelie Du’Buhuir . Sisters, twins to be more precise. Last survivors of the Du’Buhuir massacre some twenty years prior.

There is not a soul alive left that knows what really happened that night and how they crawled out of that fire all those years ago – Cathaine dragging her sister away from the bodies, kicking and screaming and crying for their mother to get up. How they survived on their own, remembering everything their father taught them in what little time they had with him. How they managed to stay hidden from the creatures that had a taste for Grimm blood. And how they managed, on their own and isolated from any other Grimm to develop their powers and harness them. But they did. Hurdled up in cardboard boxes, stealing food, shivering over makeshift campfires, and clutching to each other in the back of their dad’s old ‘67 Mustang – that Cathaine sort of, kind off, ‘took back’ from the state impound when they turned 16.Together they survived and hunted everything that fell in their path.

Rumors set them somewhere in their mid-twenties now; thought based on the latent aging factor of their existence , and perhaps some tampering in their genetic lottery - these remained just that … rumors. Truth be told, they were twenty-five, though they often played it younger when they were hustling drunken idiot in the random dive that just happened to have a pool table. Between that, and Catharine’s credit card scams they always had food on the table – or on the go as the case may be. It was never healthy, and always greasy, but at least Clary wasn’t crying because she was hungry anymore; and that alone was enough to help Cathaine sleep better at night.

They never used their last names anymore. The job had them traveling the country – fallowing leads and body bag trails – it made sense to not use a name that could get every wesen in the state out for blood. It made her little sister (because yes, Cath was going to brag about the 5 minutes lead she had on her sister at every opportunity she could get) uneasy when they first started using fake ID’s to ease them into the crime scene. Cath remembers getting a frown and a pout for her trouble from Clary when she first flashed her fake FBI badge at a cop – a fucking cop – and managed to get them inches away from the mutilated remains of their victim. But it worked, and over the years the proficiency to which her sister adapted to the fake credentials was a little bit concerning. But whatever, as long as she kept her safe nothing else mattered. Because this was it for her, her first and last mission she got from her father before that fiery wooden beam collapsed over him – silencing him forever- “Take care of Clary.”

And Cath did.

From the beginning of time there had been stories told through generations and generations, under different names and languages, meant to be recorded and never forgotten. Legends or fairy tales, which were never questioned how were they conceived or if they are, in the smallest percent, even true.
Humans walk around, minding their existence without the slightest idea that maybe the person that just passed by them could secretly hide another face under it’s skin. They don’t care, they don’t know that when they go to sleep every night, out in the shadows something is lurking, thirsty for the blood of the innocent.




Slovenia, Celje Castel




The cold air brushed against her skin as her slim body stealth around the grand castle, quietly avoiding the guards surrounding the wall. The grass covered with hoar-frost almost crunched under her leather boots, slightly giving away her location as her sister rolled her eyes at the childish behavior when Clarise stuck a pink tongue out.


Their bodies froze when a big figure stepped out the gates and began sniffing the area around growling low at the foreign scent. It didn’t take them half a minute to decide whether they should ambush the figure as Cathaine made a move to attract the man before Clarise jumped behind him cracking his neck with one move.



“Tell me before you decide to blow our cover.” Clarise frowned at her sister as the later just brushed passed her.

“Hey is this where you take revenge for eating your pancakes this morning?” she called quietly as she paced to reach her sister.

No response and that only made Clary roll her eyes at the silent attitude, deciding she should better leave it for the moment.


They had been on the road as far as they can remember, searching, destroying what people thought it doesn’t exist, but they knew better. Word reached their ears few days ago about a secret ritualistic gathering and that could mean only one thing. Hexenbiests.


“God if one of those rottenly ugly faces turns out on me I swear I will decapitate them.” She made a sick face before slowly falling into a fighting stance as her ears picked up the sound of people approaching. She showed towards her left as Cath moved closer to the general direction of the shadows before she took the right side. There were four and all of them smelled like blood. She picked up her knife and placed it parallel with her hand before stepping in front of them with a smile.



The two women from the group changed immediately at her appearance and made a warning sound few seconds before Clary swiftly cut out their throats, the bodies falling limply at her feet. Behind her Cath already took out the other two.

“We need to be fast now.” She whispered as she brushed pass her sister who in return just frowned and nodded silently. The cover was blown already and they both knew they had little time until the ritual finished.
They had to stop it, and fast before other Hexenbiests were accepted into the world.


Their feet were loud against the marble dark floor as they took turns through the maze of corridors. Those witches were not stupid, Clary snorted as the scent of blood was getting thicker and thicker. They were close.


“Shh.” Cathaine slowed her pace making her way near the turn and taking a peak around the corner.

“They have to be somewhere here.”

“There!” her sister pointed at a door opening only to reveal two people caring a double crib. “What the…I thought they are born this way.” She frowned as she leaned forward to have a clear view.

“They are…” the words died out as her sister pressed her back against the wall while her palms curled into tight fists.

“Then that means...”

“The Council will deal with this.” Her sister turned and began walking away.

“Wait what? You can’t just walk away, there are humans there!” Clarise rose her voice a bit as her hand pointed back towards the door. ”You cannot do this!” she rushed and grabbed her sister by the hand and turned her around. “We need to protect them!”


“It’s much more than protect the humans here.” And that’s the first time Clarise knew that it was way above their powers to be able to do something on their own.


“It can’t be…Royals?”

“We are leaving.” She repeated herself, and silently cursed under her breath when her body refused to move from the spot. Protecting humans was a Grimm’s second nature. Leaving them behind for the sake of self-preservation went against everything she stood for. He eyes narrowed dangerously, and she knew before she registered it that her fists were silently shaking by her side. She sighed and bit her tongue looking away from the disappearing cribs. Royal blood spelled trouble – even for them. And when you combine the treachery of Hexenbiests with the Royal family, the potential of this blowing in their faces was unquantifiably high.

‘Clary comes first.’ She breathed through her mantra, gripping her sisters wrist and forcefully pulling her away. This was as hard on Clary as it was on her, but no one … not even a human life was above her sister. “We are not risking our bacon for a bunch of humans when royals are involved.” She spat, perhaps with too much venom as they tracked back to the car. And her mood suddenly turned darker.

She hated this car. A rental, because bringing her baby across the pond was too expensive and bothersome. It smelled weird, felt weird, and drove weird. And hell, for all she knew the piece of shit might have actually been a decent ride. But it didn’t matter, because no ride was like her baby, and no ride felt like her either. She grunted angrily, slamming the door shut behind her and gripping the steering wheel like it was her last lifeline before a few violent punches connected to it in sheer frustration.

“FUCKING HEXBERRIES!” she blurred out, narrowing her eyes at the knowing smirk her sister gave her. Oh fuck that name, and every other name these things had. “Fuck you, I heard it.” She murmured darkly, twisting the key and sparking the engine to life. This was her biggest failing, among many she’ll admit. But the overcomplicated names, the definitions – she never managed to get a handle on them. Ever since she was a child she struggled with it, and her father struggled to help her remember. When all else failed he began changing them to suit her childish  demeanor; and for a while it worked. That is …until they were on their own and fully grown, and it stopped being cute and started being annoying.

Fuck it, she didn’t need to be book smart. Clarisse was the one for that. But Cath? Cath was the strategist, the fighting expert, the warrior – just point her at a target and expect a bodybag. It really didn’t matter what the proper name said bodybag had at the end of the day.

“Can we fucking leave Europe and go back home now?” she asked, pressing her foot to the gas pedal before switching gear. “Because this place is like mecha for  royals, and I am not losing you to one of those mother fuckers – ya hear me?”

It’s been about a week since the incident with the Royal blood involved in the sick ritual the Hexenbiest were holding. They heard rumors about the castle being burned down and that only send few shivers down Clarise’s back. Her thoughts about the poor innocent children being burned down by The Council still lingered through her dreams. Clarise understood her sister’s fears and she knew deep inside that it was the best choice, so when Cath decided to go back home she didn’t even say a word.

A week passed with no incidents whatsoever and this almost felt like a small vacation for both of them.


“Dinner’s ready!” Clarise shouted from inside their trailer. Designed after their taste and hiding as much secrets as Area 51, the small trailer was what they both called home.

They settled into a small camping area in Greece, near the sea and despite the sort of cold weather, the quiet evening almost got both of them at ease. The clatter of dished rang from the inside and it was the only sound breaking the stillness.
After waiting for 5 minutes with no response, Clarise clicked her tongue, a tic she got over the years when her sister would not give her a response, making her way out the trailer disturbed.

“I said dinner’s ready.” She forced scrunching her eyes to see any sign of movement further away from the camp. When none came she let out a noisy blow, wiping her hands on the apron and making her way towards the sea.

A shifting in the far corner of the tree palms got her alarmed, her hand slowly pulling out a knife from her sleeve as she slowly headed towards the noise. Carefully moving the small bush branches without a sound she came across a bunch of kittens.

“Awwww who left you here in the cold, you poor things.” Her body leaned forward only to be unbalanced by someone from behind. Before her body hit the ground she swiftly turned and took out her hand with the knife in a defense mode only to find herself tackled to the ground by someone her size. The smell was familiar and as soon as her eyes adjusted with the night she realized her sister just took advantage of her pureness.

“Why you little…” she smirked before rolling to the right just as soon as the blade sunk deep in the soil. Clarise then flipped over and spread her foot to unbalance her sister only to find nothing to hit and again the silence took over the little forest. Closing her eyes she let herself be engulfed into darkness as her hearing enhanced double.

Right. Left. Silence. Again a smirk. From behind!

She turned, blue eyes covered by her lids and a smirk on her lips as she jumped in front of her sister paring the attack with her leathered arm feeling as the sharp blade sunk a bit in her flesh forcing her to hiss at the sharp pain passing through her like lightning. With the free hand she grabbed the wrist, gave a strong squeeze and as soon as the blade fell she let herself falling taking her sister with her then rolling on top of her, knife so close to her throat that if she pushed it a bit more she could slice it open.

“I said dinner is ready.” She smiled sweetly rising up before helping her sister up. “And stop training me; it kind of makes me think YOU think low of ME.” The pout was not seen, but Cath knew it was there.

“Well I am the oldest.” The Cheshire like gin followed and threatened to split her face in two. “It sort of comes with the territory.” She added, promptly ignoring the sarcastic snort that immediately left her sister. She followed her inside, took a seat at the crooked table and decided that whatever was in the bowl in front of her was far better for her than the take out or fast food they would usually get state side. Still, after 6 month in the old continent, and not one god damn decent burger joint, the taste of ‘real food’ was slowly beginning to wear a hole in her stomach.

“I miss Sloppy Joes.” She murmured with what was as close to a pout as she would ever get. Sloppy Joes, the ‘restaurant’ – and she used that term loosely – was one of their most common sightings in the States. There was one on every corner or every dead-end town they ended up while on a hunt. And over the years - despite the taste, lack of hygiene, and the occasional hair she found mid-chew in her burgers – she actually grew to like the shithole. Still, Europe was the ‘motherland, filled with culture and rich with heritage’; she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes while her sisters words rang through her mind. The only thing that made this trip bearable was the fact that despite everything Clary had made sure they had a decent place to crash; and she had to admit that despite everything the trailer was the best fucking option because every single hotel they ran across was expensive as all hell.
Fucking Europe.

It was later, when they both finished and were quietly doing the dishes together in the far too small and far too cozy kitchen that Cathaine decided to implement her foolproof attack plan. She smirked at her dish, set it down quietly and moved behind her sister; arms silently wrapping around her midsection and pulling her close into a gentle hug.

“Claaaary …” the whine was pathetic, she knew it was, but it never failed to get her what she wanted. “I’m bored …” she added in a lower tone, chin pressed against the crook of Clarisse’s’ neck, slowly rocking her hips and pulling her sister along with the movement. “I’m bored of Europe.” She spoke softly against her neck, lips slowly lifting to her ear “And I’m bored of hexberries. I feel trapped here.” She whispered against the shell of her ear and smirked when she felt Clary suppress a shiver “And I miss my baby. I want to go home.” Home of course to them was the wide open roads in America and their beat up old car, but she wasn’t about to argue semantics. Instead she pulled her closer, arms tightening before she pressed a soft kiss to Clary’s cheek that lingered just long enough to get the message across.

“I hear there’s this bloody fucking killing spree in New York.” She whispered huskily “Right up our alley.” She smirked, lips softly pressing against the spot where neck meets shoulder “Fucking hearts missing and everything.” She mouthed over the skin. “Waddaya say?”

“God you are such a flatterer.” Clarise rushed, shaking her shoulders to get off that feeling and the person who was sticking on her like glue. Ignoring the pleasant feeling her sister gave, which bordered with love, she continued washing her side of dishes, the words lingering in her mind.

Home was nice. Home was perfect, but the idea of leaving behind the thread that slowly showed them the real intentions of Hexenbiests rituals weighted on her like steel. Truth to be told there was nothing much to do here and being the last two Grimms alive was counting as a threat to them. She would not give honey to wild bears. Not in a million years.

Clarise felt thankful for the silence, the only sound made by the music her sister was listening. With a sigh she dried her hands and fell on the double bed where her sister was humming in perfect sync with the music.
For a couple of minutes she kept silent, starring ahead at the stuffed room they shared. Books, potions, weapons; things which for a normal will look like junk, but for them were priceless. Their whole family history lied ahead of her, for which a lot of people from the other world would kill.

A smile pulled at her lips as she slowly moved her hand to entangle with her sisters. When she felt the head turn, a big grin covered her face as she moved on top of her sister, tickling her.

“You are some god damn sneaky bastard!” she laughed at the almost chocking response which she didn’t make much sense out of it. “We go home tomorrow morning.” She ended the fun time as she let her hands rest on her sister’s shoulders. “We need sleep now.” She kissed Cath’s forehead, leaving the bed for the shower.

Getting stateside challenging. The majority of their weapons, potions, and lore was being shipped to their usual storage container in a dead-end of a town in Arizona, and whatever essentials they brought in their carryon’s were either overlooked or easily explained as ‘study material’. The problem though was Cath.
The second she stepped on the boarding platform her entire body stiffened – a primal instinct tensing over her as the idea of spending seven hours in a flying tin can suddenly started to sink in. Flight of fight was slowly taking over – and boy, wasn’t that ironic.

She took a deep breath, clenched her jaw and forced a small nod towards the overly smiling flight attendant that seemed a bit on the touchy feely side while she asked if she was alright. “I’m fine.” She said out of habit, forcing a slight smile and hoping that this would be the end of it.

“Are you sure? You look a little pale.” Oh great, she was a talker.

“Just not too keen on flying.” Cath said with a nervous laugh. “Just … “ she paused then gave an apologetic look towards her frowning double in the seat next to her “Just … bring me as much alcohol as you are legally allowed to serve. That will help.” The woman frowned, and began opening her mouth before Cath corrected automatically “Yes, I am over 21. “ she said sternly.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I’d see some ID?”

“I would. But not because of a lack of one.” Cath began, muttering darkly under her breath while her hands roamed her backpack for her passport. She flashed it, with perhaps too dark of a glare, and pointedly ignored the beaming smile she got for her troubled.

“Very well miss … Genevieve Tyler, your drinks will be on their way as soon as we’re airborne.” Cath nodded, and silently gripped the handrest; suddenly very aware that they weren’t even off the ground yet and her heart was already pounding.

“I fucking hate flying.”

Ten hours later, a stop at a shady looking hotel, and then at the even shadier looking parking complex and Cathaine was finally reunited with her one true love. Her car. She grinned to herself while she opened the hidden compartment in the trunk, silently taking account of every single gun, firearm, and knife there before she closed it with a hum. This was home. It wasn’t stable, and the engine always liked to give out, and maybe the heater could use some TLC, but it was hers. All of her memories, everything she owned, everything she loved … Her entire life could be packed on four wheels.

“I missed you, you piece of shit.” She grinned, slamming the door as she jumped behind the wheel and turned to her sister wiggling her brows “Back in black, baby.”she said, hand turning the key that sparked the entire machine to life, along with that very same song from it’s speakers.

“I swear this car hates me.” Clarise shifted through the seat, trying hard to untangle herself from a bunch of wires the car poked out. “I need a new seat.” A curse escaped her mouth as a unsafe wire send electricity though her fingers almost numbing the hand. “Now.” She snapped at her sister only to get a very smug attitude as a response.


They had been driving for about two hours on the curvy empty roads towards one of their safe places and edgy sounded way to less than how Clarise felt at that moment. Far ahead building tips were slowly making themselves more visible with each kilometer passed.


“Thanks god.” Clarise moaned at the sight of an apparently still functional gas station. She was eager to get out of the care and stretch her already numb legs, take a piss and hopefully find something edible and not out of date like the last time, which almost had her on the toilet for about half an hour.


“Howdy misses, may I help these two lovely girls?” The owner shouted before they even pulled over for a refill. He looked overly disgusting, sweaty and his teeth were a shade closer to black, few teeth missing from the front. As soon as he opened his mouth next to her window, Clarise felt the need to throw up the few sandwiches she ordered in the plane as the smell of something close to rotten hit her nostrils.



When her eyes fell for the second time on the man, prepared to give a nasty reply, the said person shifted his face into a pig like feature. Narrowing her eyes knowingly she smirked at the look he gave her, before he jumped back from the car and almost stumbled over hitting a water can in his way.


“I’m sorry, look I didn’t do anything, I’m innocent – don’t hurt me!.” His hands came up, defending when Clarise came out of the car.

Cath already filled up the tank and was almost bursting out laughing at his attitude.


“Yes well that can do if you got something for me.”Clarise stepped forward only to have the man tumble backwards and falling on his bum, his whole body shaking as he kept on begging. “One; don’t ever go next to other ladies as you went on us, because I will know, and I will find you.” Her finger tipped against her chin as she thought about either to finish him off or just let him be. “And second I need a new seat, the most expensive one. I don’t want leather but cushion and I don’t have money to pay you.” She smiled, resting her palms on her hips as she waited for the reply from the man.
When the nod came back she grinned and waved at her sister who was already rummaging through the trunk of the car.


It took them about an hour to get the seat fixed, time where the Bauerschwein’s eyes were almost bulging out from watching them. When everything was set to go the man totally refused to take any kind of money from them, either for the gas or for the bags of chips, saying that he was glad for being in the company of a two Grimm and lived to tell that.

“I don’t think you will ever say any word about what you have seen here if you care so much about your life Bauerschwein.” They both said giving a sweet smile towards.


“Oh god no! Keep the smile to yourself. Jesus.” Clarise cringed at the idea of seeing those teeth again.


The car took off swiftly leaving the man coughing behind him in a pile of dust and smoke.


“Did you even see that?” she pointed her finger backwards, shifting comfortable and rising her shoeless feet on the board. “I swear I’ll have nightmares after this.” Her blue eyes got lost under her lids, failing to notice the hard time her sister had of not bursting out into a hysterical laugh.

“What can I say, seeing bacon hit on you is funny.” Cath shrugged in reply. Her eyes narrowed at the seat, eyeing it from her peripherals, and trying – and failing- very hard at suppressing a frown. “That thing is insulting to my Mustang’s American heritage.” She grumbled, absentmindedly petting the steering wheel.

“But mark my words – “ she added with a hint of pride “One of these days, when we’ll stop chasing every single dime we make, I’ll restore this badboy.” She grinned, eyeing her sister enthusiastically “All black paintjob, leather seats, fix that clanking sound the gearbox makes when you change  gears, and that suspension … fix the engine, and the carburetor … “ she frowned, clenching and unclenching her fist rapidly before adding “And the heater too … definitely the heater.”  She felt her lips twitch at the corners when her sisters laugh fallowed her self-imposed declaration.

“Yeah. One day I’ll fix her.” She smiled softly towards the road “Just like she was when dad had her.”

They fell silent after that. Neither willing or able to carry a conversation that revolved around this topic. It was twenty years old, long buried under the stacks of wesen bodies they left behind, and yet … it was still taboo. Somehow, in the middle of fighting for survival and fighting for the strangers they protected every day, the two young women forgot this one wound open. It was simply never approached. Swiped under  the proverbial rug and forever left gaping and unattended.

“I’m hungry.” She finally grunted through the silence, biting at her lower lip just as the state border sign flashed in her rearview. Finally, New York. “First Sloppy Joes we see we’re stopping. And I don’t want to hear a peep about your healthy tree hugging bullshit.” She warned, and promptly ignored the frown she got in reply. “And then we’ll pick up that trail in Manhattan.”

Eight hours later, a filling (yet unsurprisingly questionable) meal aside, three hours of sleep in hotel that charged by the hour, one shower, and some decent looking clothes that didn’t smell like they’d been run over by a decomposing raccoon, and the twins were silently leaning against the Mustang outside a building with the words “New York C.M.E Office” plastered in bright and shiny metal lettering on its side.  It wasn’t their first time doing this song and dance just to get close enough to examine a body that met its end in anything deemed supernatural worthy. And like always, they were dressed to impress. Dark pressed power suits, with just the right amount of heel to scream sexy but still professional. Clarise wore hers with a matching black pencil skirt that stopped just above her knee, while Cath went with the fitted dark pants this time around – no point in doing a double whammy on the poor coroner, she though.  

She gave her sister a curt nod, and pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of the nose before turning her eyes towards the building . “Got your badge, ‘agent’ Romanov ?” Clary nodded. “Good, “ she sighed and pushed herself off the car “Then let’s get this over with. I heard the guy is missing a heart; should be fun.”


Fun indeed.


Badges flashed and introductions over, they found themselves staring down at a fist-sized hole  in their victims chest. The blue-ish tint to the man’s lips, and cerulean hue made his skin pop grotesquely under the haunting glow of the buzzing neon lights; while above him the coroner beamed idly towards the two women while slowly chewing on a sandwich. Cathaine scrunched her nose in his general direction. Fucking body baggers.

“Soo … twin Feds. You don’t see that everyday.” The man hummed, perhaps trying to start up a conversation that might lead to some reenactment of some sick fantasy.

“No. You don’t.” Cath said coldly, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and slipping them on before she began reaching inside the body’s chest. “How long ago was he found?” she asked, and ignored the frown the man gave at the realization that his subtle run at an innuendo was being cast aside.

“Seventy-two hours ago.”

“And the heart?”

“Missing. Along with most of his blood.”

“Exsanguination?” Cath frowned even as the words left her lips, and turned towards her sister who simply rose a brow.
“Where exactly was he found?”

“In an alley, down by the corner of 21-nd and 3-rd.” Cath hummed, flipping a patch of flesh over and examining the outline of the wound.

“Busy street. Our boy was being cocky.” She looked towards her sister “Maybe marking his territory?” the coroner rose a brow at this.

“Wait- what?” Cath smiled up at him, removing the now bloody gloves and tossing them in the bin “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’ll need a copy of the medical exam, and of the police report.” She said, perhaps a bit too sternly and chuckled at the way the man scrambled to meet her request.

“Might be a bluebutt, might be a geier" she groaned and let her head fall back in frustration "God I hope it's not a geier" She glared at the ceiling “The exsanguination is weird as fuck though.”






“You know the deal Nick.” The rough, sandpaper like voice groaned from a dark corner of the room while the man in question simply shifted his eyes –eye – at him. “Me no go till I see the doe.”

“You are, above all, an Avenger. A mercenary after, Deadpool.” The dark skinned man sighed, silently rubbing the bridge of his nose while trying to regain a semblance of calm. “The rest of the team is currently split in  different  corners of the country on different missions. You and Parker are the only two agents SHIELD has currently active in New York.”

“It’s not like I can drop everything and be at your every beck and call like some love struck teenage girl, Furry.” The man said, sighing slightly before adding “Despite what the boxes would tell you.” He paused, frowned under his crimson mask then mumbled  “No shut up. I am not telling him that. He doesn’t need to know that..”

Furry sighed. Deadpool’s mental instability was well-known, as was his lack of self-control on the field. But what the public often seemed to overlook, was his genuine determination at doing good. Despite his tactless approach to battle, his hap hazardous fighting style, and his often ruthless tactics – Wade Wilson was at his very core …good.
And boy didn’t that sound weird.

The SHIELD director struggled against groaning out loud at that one; he often thought back to the moment he stopped seeing Deadpool as the unstoppable killing machine, and started noticing Wade Wilson  - the broken antihero. Maybe it was all of those times Deadpool swopped in to lend a hand to the Avengers – offering no explanation as to why and refusing any monetary compensation. Maybe it was all those long talks with Nate he’d have over a long drink after an even longer day, in which the mutant drunkenly expressed his genuine pride and trust in Wilson; ‘Kid’s just broken. But maybe someday he’ll find somebody stubborn enough to put him back together. Maybe it will stop hurting so much then ’Cable would say. Or maybe it was the time Deadpool decided he’d be a human shield for Parker, and take the bullet with Spiderman’s name on it straight though his own skull.

Honestly, Furry didn’t know when it happened. But over the years he and Wilson reached this stage in their relationship, where the word ‘friend’ genuinely didn’t feel so forced. Not that Furry would ever admit to that outloud – or to anyone even. And now, after all of those time when Peter Parker burst through his doors and would adamantly make a case for Deadpool’s freedom, for his humanity, for his struggle to do good,  Furry was finally seeing it.

“Wilson …have a seat” Furry sighed, smirking triumphantly when the young man’s entire stance stiffened at the name. He didn’t use their names inside the Agency, he always deemed it unprofessional. And few people actually bothered to acknowledge ‘Deadpool’ as human enough to actually have a name to begin with. So when he heard his name, it struck a cord.

“You’re going to go all daddy dearest on me, aren’t you?” the man sighed, slumping in a chair and crossing his arms childishly. Furry smirked.

“If that’s what it takes.” Wade groaned.

“Fine. My plate’s empty anyway.”

“Parker will accompany you.” Wade groaned again  and began forming a counter argument before Furry added “No you may not use his webshooters to cocoon him to the Empire State. And yes, your Mexican take out bills can be deducted as expenses for the duration of this mission.”  Wade seemed to perk up visibly at that, and sent a silent fist  towards the ceiling. “Look it over.” Furry hummed, leaning back in his chair, silently pushing a file towards Wade. “Tenth victim this month. “

“Only hearts.” Wade narrowed his eyes at the file from behind his mask, silently flipping through it.

“Graduated to exsanguination this week.”

“Somebody’s been a naughty little psychopath.” The mercenary hummed.

“Get this done. The council would appreciate if I actually had something to back me  up at our next ‘Is-Furry-out-of-hi-fucking-mind-because-really-deadpool?’ meeting.” Wade snorted comically, but nodded.

“Consider it done.”

“Or it might me none of them.” Clarise called slowly, touching the dead cold flesh where the heart had been taken out. The ripped flesh was carefully cast aside to leave visible a very minuscule drop of something what could have been related to phosphorescent. However the needle point drop of liquid was not the usual green, but a faint glow of blue. The frown was followed as she picked it up with her finger.



Blue eyes rose from the dead body towards the coroner, a stretched fake smile covering her face.



“I need to focus and by that means that any other sound made in this room, except the talking is getting on my nerves.”



The blink gave her a sign that no one else had been spoken to him that way until now, yet to her surprise he left shortly apologizing quietly.


“Got something from the body.” Clarise said as soon as the door clicked shut. She stretched her finger towards her sister and by the frown she got in return, Clary’s mind clicked that she had not mentioned this to her that time.



“Gluhenvolk.” She said in a breath. “I encountered one of these on a mission I once did alone. The frown deepened and it was not one of those confused ones. “Nothing happened!” she rushed, waving her hand in front of her. “She was innocent, but I assure you that she was a beauty.” The smile came over her face. “But somehow I don’t get it. They are peaceful and quiet and caring. Why would someone do this to humans?” Her eyes locked with the tiny drop while her mind searched something. When the door clicked again she snapped, unwrapping her gloves from her hands carefully enough not to smudge the drop on the plastic fabric before she tucked them in her pocket.


“What?” she questioned noticing the risen eyebrow the coroner gave in return. “Anyway, make sure the files are ready in 10 minutes.” With that said she turned towards the door and disappeared behind it.

He didn't  really plan for it to happen. But he got like this sometimes. It could be called ‘boredom’, it could perhaps be called ‘insanity’, and maybe more accurately be called ‘depression’. But despite whatever you might end up calling it, and despite whichever reason he will, without a doubt later bargain against, he was still here. ‘Dead’, sprawled in a puddle of his own blood with a gaping hole in the side of his skull, while the wall above him seemed to be sprayed in a mural of modern art a-la-brain matter that some new age hipster would no doubt call ‘ avangarde ’.

Who knew suicide could be an art form?

His finger felt itchy. He’ll go with that, because admitting he just wanted to see her again – no matter for how little – was killing him a little. He knew he couldn’t  keep doing this too often, he knew  he had to use this sparingly ; and each time he had to get just that bit more creative in offing himself because his body was tricky like that. He healed faster on every occasion;  everything knitting up tighter, and he stood ‘dead’ less and less with every bullet to the brain.

It’s wasn’t fair, he thought childishly when he finally crossed the border and felt the blackness engulf him, everybody got to have at least a shot to the person they loved. Why not him? Ah, that’s right, he kept forgetting: most people weren’t in love with Death.

“You came early, my love.” He heard her whisper behind him, her cold hands wrapping around his midsection and cradled him gently. He leaned into it, closing his eyes almost effortlessly. He’d missed this – the comfort, the silence, but above all else he’d missed her.

“Finger itched on the trigger.” He murmured darkly, ignoring the little voice in his head that snorted sarcastically at the pathetic excuse. She hummed in return knowingly, perhaps too knowing for his own comfort, and he found himself grateful that she didn’t  point out the obvious. “How long do I get this time?” he asked, turning in her arms and looking down at the pair of silver eyes that always felt incredibly warm to him.

“About two minutes.” She smiled and he felt his stomach flipping at the sight. She was breathtaking, despite what folklore would tell you; porcelain skin, long dark hair, silver eyes framed by long lashes, and yet all of this palled in comparison to her smile. It always was effortless. And it always made him lean towards her lips.

“Fuck…” is all he said before leaning into a soft and slow kiss – he wouldn’t rush this, despite the timing. “I’m getting faster at healing.” He growled above her lips and she simply chuckled.

“It is your fate.” She offered lightly.

“Fuck fate. I need you.” She laughed and leaned into his tightening arms.

“I doubt you’d like to have Fate hear that.”

“Bitch better watch out, one day I’ll be coming for her.”

“She said something though, the other day.” She said suddenly, looking up towards him with an indiscernible look.

“Fate? You guys hang?” she nodded lightly “What did she say?” he asked, a  frown crumpling the crimson fabric of his mask.

“That your path is not linked to death, but linked with another.” Wade snorted darkly at this, pulling her close again and locking her lips with hers. “She’s right.” She adds a second later beneath his lips, while his brows knit menacingly. “Souls … are odd in that sense.” She said, cradling his face towards her when he stubbornly decided to deny reality by looking away
“Listen to me, my love.” She whispered, and he fought against the urge of swallowing the knot that was beginning to form in his throat.  “Souls are built in pairs.” She smiled sadly  “And although I am as old as the universe itself, I am destined for one thing – reaping. I will take every single soul in this plane –one after another every last one of them will fall under my blade, and then after that … one day I will reap God too.” She smiled sadly “And just before this bubble of a realm will stretch into nothingness, and just after your universe will  begin to boil on itself  … I will reap Fate as well.” She paused, giving him time to process the implication of this, and perhaps allowing the deafening sound of his own heartbeat die down a bit more.

Universal truths were not his thing.

“ But not you.” She finished and Wade began shaking his head in denial at that  “I have known for quite some time. You are outside the petri- dish, Wade Wilson.” She said, shushing him gently with a cold hand on his cheek  in which he leaned almost subconsciously.  “You are an oddity, a rarity, an exceptional quirk of the very fabric of reality. But you are, at your very core, deeply human.  And as all humans, somewhere out there you will find your pair. And just like you, she will be outside the petri-dish too.”

“I don’t want-“

“You don’t know what you want yet. “ she cut him off and he simply frowned harder.
“I don’t want this to end. I have fought tooth and nail to find a permanent ticket to you.”

“And I appreciate that. But –“ she continued pointedly when he began to open his mouth to form a protest “ – but, my line of work is solitary. As is yours … for the time being.”

“I swear, I will end Fate right in the fucking face.” He spat darkly, earning a sincere chuckle from the entity in  his arms. “I know she did this just to mess with me.” He glared over his shoulder almost as if making sure the entity in question wasn’t around. “I swear she has it out for me. I must have pissed her off in another life of something-“

“You have. More so than you can imagine.”

“Fuck me I knew it.”

“Wade.”

“I must have been bad ass.”

“Wade”

“Killing and pillaging and shit.”

“Wade,”

“Yes?”

“It’s time to go back.”


He wakes to the very last sickening sound of his own skull knighting itself hole again. The bones crunch into place just before his synapses spark to life for the umpteenth time in his … fuck, how old was he anyway? He’d lost track after the ’80’s. Not that it mattered, he didn’t age – and technically he stopped aging when he was 25. Or was it 35? Hell if he knew anymore.

A low groan pushed him into somewhat of a seating position, while his hand rubbed lazily at his mask. He remembered everything – he always did from the first moment he’d met her all those decades ago -  and the spark of longing and unquenching guilt never diminished throughout all these years. But this time however he felt it harder. Death practically said her goodbye, and whilst every piece of him wanted to lash out at the world in anger and protest, the sane part of him – however little of it there was – reminded him that in the end this was completely out of his hands. From the beginning, this little song and dance had been done on her turf and on her terms. She always had the power over the end game – he just didn’t imagine she would play that card quite this soon.
Hey, 5 years to something like Death was “soon”.

“This shit is so above my paygrade it’s not even funny.” He murmured darkly to the emptiness of his apartment while the echoes of their conversation washed over him, knowing full well that seconds later his crippled mind would offer some voice of companionship.

[It always is though. The fact that you even managed to keep her with you for so long is some grade A miracle type shit right there.] ah, there it was, Wade smiled.

{Don’t listen to him buddy. I’ll always root for you} Wade snorted at that one. His boxes were in contradiction tonight, and he wondered absentmindedly if this points to some deep seeded conflict within himself.

[Of course it does you fucking moron. We are you! Of course we’d be different parts of you trying to make sense of the shit you cause around you.]

{You COULD be nicer you know.} his little yellow box offered silently. It’s font looked  tiny and bleak , and Wade almost felt sorry for it.

[ *snort.] the damn thing actually read ‘snort’ with the asterix and everything, Wade suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in favor of rolling out of the puddle of blood beneath him.

“Whatever.” He mumbled “You guys are just jealous of my awesomeness.”

{Most deff.} his yellow box offered eagerly, while almost simultaneously his white box interjected with [And what EXACTLY, is so fucking awesome about you?] oh, capitalized words …. He must have been really fucked up to be yelling at himself in caps.

“Well I do have a fine ass.” Wade answered himself, making his way slowly to the bathroom and rubbing absentmindedly at the hole the bullet left in his mask. “

[Let’s not forget our good looks.] the white box  snapped sarcastically just as Wade removed his ruined mask  in front of his bathroom mirror and glances blankly at his own reflection. His scars always looked so very violent under neon. He hated neon.

{Man, we’re really bitchy tonight aren’t we?}

“Well ….we did just get dumped by Death … I mean this is as low as it can go.” Wade replies to his mirror.

[That, and Scarface jokes are always in.]

{Do you think Scarface liked tacos ? He should.}

“Shower … then tacos. Good plan boys.” Wade sighed forcing a smile before pulling the clingy latex off his body and emerging himself into a long cold shower. With any luck, he thinks absentmindedly, he’d slip and fall and go see her one last time.



They’ve been eyeballing the same god damn file and lore books for over an hour now. And by the looks of it, it wasn’t getting any closer to it making sense.

“I give up.” Cath finally said, arms raised towards the ceiling in frustration and perhaps a bit of childish indifference. And yeah maybe she was a bit upset that, in the middle of their lore searching her taco got cold and her fries pulled a ‘ Lazarus’  and now somehow tasted raw. How the fuck does that even happen? She frowned darkly at the wayward vegetable, a mixture of disgust and disappointment  spilling over her face.  She hated studying up on a kill, no matter how in the dark they found themselves  keeping her nose in the books just wasn’t her.

“It makes no god damn sense.” She finally sighed, throwing the fry cross the dinner table with a bit too much force. And of course it bounced off the plastic surface and ricocheted off  the head of some dude, in the booth next to theirs, that was crazy enough to come into full cosplay in the middle of a Taco Bell.

“Sorry buddy.” She cringed when the red mask turned towards her, a frown narrowing from behind the fabric – and maybe those blades and guns weren’t props ? She frowned back, and leaned into her seat without breaking eye contact.

“I hate Taco Bell.” She murmured towards Clary who simply chuckled at her expense. No sympathy what so ever.

“Look,” she sighed, finally looking away from the loon “It took organs and blood, so it acts like a Geiger, it left claw marks and teeth marks so it kills like a blubutt – or fuck … anything else we’ve seen that has claws and fangs for all I know, and left behind blue crud so it secrets fucking luminol like those sparkly aliens of yours you maybe kinda wanna bone.” She counted off on her fingers before rubbing at her forehead tiredly “Unless somebody pulled a Bride of the Frankenstein,  we’re either dealing with a hybrid or three different creatures.” She left her head drop on the table, drinks vibrating in their plastic cups with the thump “And Clare … I’m tiered, I’m jetlagged, I smell like the morgue, I think I still feel that little mortician’s eyes on me, and all I want to do is gank the thing that offed these poor fucks so I can crash in some sleazy hotel for like 4h before we get to do this all over again tomorrow.”

“And my taco got cold.” She added with a little childish pout.




Well this was interesting, he thought darkly while leaning into his seat. Listening in to that conversation paid off more than he’d anticipated. Initially he was simply eyeballing eyecandy, then after the fry landed on his head “eyecandy” turned into future ‘bodybag’. Who knew providence worked so fucking smooth?

Wayward fry leads to lead – he snorted at the wording before taking a bite out of his taco and eyed the pair at the opposite booth. Young, mid to late teens, and if they tried they could even pull off looking younger – but they spoke like they were pro’ at this. With a bit too much familiarity and ease at the thought of killing people.

[And she certainly had balls.] his white box offered, while Wade hums approvingly. Not many people dared keep eye contact with Deadpool; not even the ones that didn’t  know who Deadpool was. It was part of the job, he supposed.

{Bright red spandex costume littered with guns and blades … yeah, we do give off a certain … “vibe”}

“Still …” Wade murmured, knowing better than to continue that thought out loud while slurping from his oversized cup of soda – there was something off about these two he just couldn’t just  shake.

[Maybe you should look away  …. NOW!] the white box chimed in when the shorthaired one fixed him with a pair of blue’s that made his blood chill and sent a shiver sparking to life down his spine.

[Wow. When’s the last time some broad left you with that reaction?]

{Last one was Nessa.}

[And we still feel her blood warm on our hands. Even after 10 fucking years.]

{Fuck Sabertooth.}

[Seriously.]

“Enough.” He whispered into his drink , suddenly very bitter at the memory.  She died because of him, just so he would get a ‘message’. And he still hadn’t managed to repay Sabertooth kindly for it, not even after all these years. Fucking healing factors.



“I swear …” Cath began suddenly, looking past her sister and back at the red spandexed individual “New York will never get any less freaky for me.”

If it wasn’t frustrating then she didn’t know what it was. Clarise heard her sister muttering something next to her, complaining as always but her mind was set on something else.


“There has to be something that links these deaths together beside the heart and blood. Something more deeper.” She frowned at the book as her hand kept on paging it almost too fast to even read. It was nothing. Nothing! And that fact alone got Clarise to the point of bringing her hands to her head, pulling at the hair who pointed in every direction possible before banging it on the counter with a loud thud.


“God I swear we have a dead end here.” The sound muffled by the book came out even more complaining than it was meant to be. “What we’ve seen so far? They attacked on busy streets but dragged in a dark alley. Sound proofing the killing? It’s impossible that someone couldn’t hear or see something?” Clarise bit her bottom lip, angry for not seeing anything that can reveal what was that was causing the murders.


After a couple of more minutes she finally turned towards Cath and raised an eyebrow following her direction of vision. What was odd was not the fact that he actually came carrying a sword and guns but the fact that he completely covered his skin with that costume. “I don’t like him.” She stated rising up from her seat, gathering all the lore that was spread across the counter. He kept on starring at them and she had a feeling they had someone else on their asses now.

The phone rang just as he landed with an inaudible thump on the secluded rooftop that he routinely used to store his backpack on. It wasn’t anything to speak off – a simple, and very forgettable, black Jansport that he kept his civies, school books, and the occasional sandwich when he got lucky enough to catch his aunt in the morning.
He glanced at the caller ID, the word “ASSBUTT” flashing obnoxiously on his screen, before an exasperated groan left his lips.

“What is it Wade?” The voice on the other end ticked annoyingly into what Peter imagined would be an automated response to criticism by this point, before replying:

“Now is this any way to talk to your best friend?” Peter sighed into the receiver and rubbed instinctively at his forehead.

“It is when you haven’t picked up your damn phone in over a month, and I had to do a manhunt across the fucking continent to make sure your ass was still alive.” He snapped angrily, and for a second the silence on the other end made him think that Wade actually hung up after his little temper tantrum.

“That was sweet.” The man finally coes, and Peter want to just break his phone over Deadpools head – repeatedly. “Do you want to hold my hand now sweetheart?”

“Fuck you.” Peter glowers darkly, dropping on the ends of the roof with a bit too much force. “What do you want?”

“Furry put us on a job, remember?”

“Yes.” Peter sighed and looked towards the sky for an end to his frustration. Of all people he got his motormouth of a best friend. He liked Wade, he really did. He was as close to a brother as he’d ever get – and missions with him were always fun. Most missions. And by most Peter means not the recon type … which this at its very core was.

“I think I found a lead.” Wade paused, the sound of wind traffic and movement whistling from his end “And by that I mean two very very veeeeery perkly looking leads.”

“You’re staring at asses, aren’t you?”

“No?” he paused “Ok, yes. But in my defense … they were talking about out case.” Peter frowned

“So … what’s your gameplan here?” and he almost regretted asking that at the mischievous snicker Wade gave in reply.

“Oh … I’ll just hide in their trunk.” And the line went dead.

“Well fuck.”



They’ve been walking towards their car for about one minute before Cath realizes they picked up a tail. She suppresses the urge to curse under her breath and silently pats her underarm holster and pops open its latch. Better be safe than sorry. Her steps pick up a rhythm that she is sure Cary will notice and get alerted by while she nonchalantly eyeballs a store window to get a better angle on their would-be chaperone, and wouldn’t you know it? It was the cosplay freak.

Fuck New York. Fuck Hell’s Kitchen. And fuck cosplaying fanatic fanboys too.

“What do you say I meet you at the car.” And it wasn’t exactly a question. She gave a tight smile towards her sister’s unnerving gaze before padding the side of her chest that housed her holstered gun and adding “I’ll take the scenic route. Whichever hellboy over there decides to go for he’ll be in for one hellova ride.” She nods and ducks down an alley that smells suspiciously like the rest of this fucking town, and lets her mind narrow down on the echo of her footsteps. Truth be told, she would much rather have him go after her than spend her time worrying about her sister. And if the accompanying pair of footsteps behind her are any indication then her wish just may get granted.

A sly smirk tugs at her lips while her fingers dive into her jacket and curl around the cool metal of her Desert Eagle. That’s it, get a little closer, just a bit more and ….

“Gotcha mother fucker!” she hollered triumphantly while turning with a blinding speed and a pointing gun. And then she freezes, in front of her an old woman –maybe around 80 – is silently shivering and perhaps making her last requests up to old saint Petey himself .

“Please, I have a grandson …” she manages to say between quivering sobs, and Cath cringes at the fact that her gun is still pointing at her.

“Um … wrong motherfucker …” she mumbles, before smiling awkwardly and scratching the barrel of her gun against the side of her head. “Sorry … didn’t mean to …” The woman’s sobs grew louder, and Cath groans in sheer embarrassment “You can go m’am” and it doesn’t take any more convincing to get the old broad off and running. Well this was embarrassing, she sighs and reholsters her gun. And then it hits her – if he didn’t go after her then …

“Clare!”

Casually, after her sister’s departing, her hands went deep inside her leather jacket pockets as her brain settled on a less relaxed state. Clarise knew something was wrong with him, yet she hoped it was only for the part where men barely keeps their manhood safe in their pants when facing two young women.


The sigh came out calmly as she spotted their car. She opened her ears and let adrenaline course through her body, enough to keep in control her rage, just as her sister told her.


The key was cold against her hot fingers as she turned it and opened the car door before she spotted something flashing in her right. She didn’t react right away knowing that she would blow her cover as one of the damsel in distress before nonchalantly leaning forward and rummaging for something in the glove compartment.


“And so the little lamb found her strength and turned to face the wolf.” She smiled to herself before getting back up and turned just in time as a blade cut off a strand of black hair. She stood back and looked angrily at her right side being smaller enough to be noticed.


“Seriously?” she pointed at her hair before a knife dropped down from under her sleeve and rushed passed the man just in time before another slash was avoided. Her feet brushed loudly on the rocky land lowering herself on one leg while the other one swung carefully towards his hand, forcing him to drop the blade at the contact. Huffing from the dust, her hand planted on the ground as she turned her body back up only to have his neck right into her blade. When she felt the gush of hot crimson blood she grinned and slashed the neck, blood freed from its vein limbo splashing her face and chest in strong sprinkles.



The corpse fell on the dusty ground with a loud thud, giving a few shakes before falling limp forever.


It took Clarise few minutes to start breathing as her vision began clearing. Her blue eyes searched the surroundings, making sure the area was free of people before leaning down and begin the search for any identity card.


“Clarise!” her head snapped when her sister came running towards her before frowning deeply.


“No wallet or any identity book.” Her voice shook a bit and she knew what that meant. “Cath.” She said rising her eyes towards her sister knowing too well at what her sister was staring. “Something is wrong with him. He makes me uneasy and…” her words died in her throat as her sister picked her up.

She should run. Her brains played this on repeat like a tantalizingly painful mantra for the better part of the last minute.
She tried, genuinely fucking tried, to will herself to look away and not to pry into the conversation of the table that seemed mockingly close in proximity. But she still heard it, or the gist of it, just before she willed her abilities into submission. But no amount of sensory blocking could muffle the loud declaration the red spandex-clad man made at the fondness he held towards his own dingleberries. Cath chocked on her soda at that; loud enough to draw the unwanted attention of the table in question and earning a pointed look from Wade who seemed to be either frozen in panic or homicidally still – which could go either way with Deadpool really; she did the research, she knew what he was capable off. And Cathaine suddenly found herself wishing very badly that spontaneous human combustion was an actual thing, or at the very least the ground could split in two and swallow her hole. Anything to make this less awkward.

Something in her must have snapped her back to her senses though, because the next thing she’s doing is silently motioning for the waitress and politely asking for their check, and a serving of chocolate pancakes to go. The woman nods back with a bit too much enthusiasm for her liking, but she bites back the impulse to simply glare her into submission so she simply offers a smile that she hopes comes out sincere and not at all forced. Which it totally fucking was.

Her eyes casually drift over the table, and their eyes lock; instantaneous and unredeemable in any way. He fidgets for a second under her eyes, but his shoulders tense and the hand that was casually elbowed on the table clenches and unclenches in a manner that has her thinking it’s some form of stress copping mechanism. Good, at least she wasn’t the only one freaked out about this.

Then Deadpool stands and starts walking towards her table; and her entire little mantra begins trotting through her mind like a never-ending flood that was accompanied by the occasional torrent of self-deprecating profanities and pleas to the universe itself.

“Fancy meeting you here.” He said casually, palm pressed flat on her table while he towers down at her with an impassive smirk from behind that spandex mask she suddenly hates.

“Not fancy, and as pickup lines go that has to be one of your weakest. “ she replies, somehow finding the edge in her tone and clinging to it, because he doesn’t need to know how out of her mind this entire situation has her. Wade chuckled at that, and she hated to admit how relaxed that simple action made her.

“Of course.” He hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another and leaning in closer “But my arsenal of pickup lines are reserved for actual targets.” He said, and he had no why his brain chose to follow with the cold hearted douchebag approach. Hell, he wasn’t even aware he’d moved from his table until he was staring down at her let alone why he’s doing it. But her eyes were driving him insane, the blue in them feeling like it actually bore through his ribcage and part of him decided he couldn’t take this anymore. He’d never really been that keen on defense, and offence was always fun. So here he was. Playing detached douche to a girl that he would very seriously give his kidney to date – and holy shit that sounded intense.

[We’re turning into the kill happy version of Van Gogh]

{I suppose it’s too late to tell you that you’re an idiot and that look she’s giving you right now is genuine hurt?} the yellow box asks and Wade innerly winces at the way her eyes cast downwards for that split second before she catches herself and that mocking smirk is back firmly in place.

“Cute.” Is all she said in way that has him feeling incredibly stupid and immature at the same time “What do you want, Deadpool?” she accentuates the tittle, lets it linger into a point that she is keeping him at arm’s length to reprimand his attitude ; and like a little puppy Wade wants to curl in on himself and cower away from it.

“We’re working the same case.” He said earnestly.

“True, but from different angles. I’d venture in fact to guess that your cop friend over there has more in common with my methods than you do.” And something fiercely menacing fired up in Wade at that, and an almost inaudible growl poured out of him as he asked,

“Who? Him?” he nudged his head at his own table, ignoring the way Peter looked back between talking animatedly with Nick about god fucking knows what. “A rookie cop with a stuck up partner does it for you more than the freak with the blades on his back?”

“You’re not supposed to do it for me remember? I’m not a target.” And fuck him for walking straight into that one. “Look,” she said while standing from her table, putting file in her briefcase and dropping a cluster of bills on the table as she prepared a retreat “I’d be very fucking weary of those two if I were you. Especially the suit.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Cat?” he asked in a way that might have come out more familiar than it was intended, but if it did offend she didn’t show it.

“A lot.” She admitted “But then again so are you.” She moves past him and drops a card on the table that he instinctually reaches for, and something in him coils at the realization that it’s her number “This is just our second date sunshine. I’m not about to share my toys with you just because your ass looks good in spandex.”

“I … “he wants to say things, horrible things, filthy things but she cuts him off with a look that screams concern and worry.

“Don’t be alone with the suit. Don’t trust the rookie cop. Be careful. Even you can get it bad in this one, Deadpool.“ she smiled as she said this, and this time around his name is dropped with an undertone of worry in her voice that has him mentally clawing at something he wasn’t even aware he wanted until a second ago. “Oh and tell Spidey I’m a huge fan. And watch his ass too kay? He’s a bit naïve.” She said, and then smiled down at the little waitress that brought her order “You can keep those.” She added before turning on her heels and disappearing towards the bathrooms.

“Chocolate chip.” Wade mumbles absentmindedly looking at the styrofoam container.

[Yup. We are definitely in love.]

“Fuck.”


She’s standing in front of the bathroom for a total of 20 seconds when she hears the conversation – or at the very least, the last bits of the conversation – between her sister and the Zauberbiest. The door is subsequently slammed with a bit too much force than she intended too, and maybe the hinges might have come loose a bit at that, but her eyes are unnerving; eyeing the man with a look that screams of murder and pain if he so much as looks at her sister again.



“The fact that you carry a badge and gun means somebody will miss you when I’ll try to sever your spine with my hunting knife for cornering my sister in the bathroom.” She glowers low and dark, patting the edge of the blade against her thigh. “And the fact that you smell scared means that you know just how honest I am being.”

“No fucking way!” Clarise was already on the edge of losing it again and by the way this little dick was acting she wouldn’t even try to hold back her other one. She gave one last look at Cath before jerking away from her sister’s hold and walked away rubbing her neck. It was suffocating, he was suffocating. He smelled horrible and she couldn’t get her finger on what exactly was.


She jumped on the nearest block and sat down leg crossed watching them from far away, her hand on gun ready to end him if he would try even so slightly to touch Cathaine. She had to stay away from him, both for her and her sister’s safety.


A snort came loud as he waved her.




=========================================================




“Why would they send Wade on that mission?” Nick thought loudly, weighting the possibilities. Yes he was a killing machine and to be honest a good and efficient one, yet he did stick out sometimes.

“There has to be something behind it.” Sean said as he looked over the files once more. “We have other missions to go to.
Apparently another killing had taken place on the old warehouse next to the theater.” His partner gave him a stern look which bore a bit of frustration behind before snapping the file shut.

“Coming?” he rushed, eager to see what else could be behind this murder.


There were people everywhere, scared, talking about not being safe anymore and it made Nick glue his lips in a strong thin line as he gave a look towards his partner. Sean in return he just frowned and passed by the restricted area heading towards the place where the dead body was lying. Bloody.


“What you got so far?” He said as he leaned and checked the body.

“There are two witnesses that heard screams in the house but nothing else than that.” A police officer explained them what the witness said before pointing towards an old lady crying.


Sean nodded to Nick as the latter already headed to interrogate the lady further more.


“Hello misses Greta, I’m detective Burkhardt.” He smiled as she greeted him slowly. “Do you mind if I ask you few questions?” he said softly and thanked her when he nodded. “Around what time have you heard the screams?”

The lady began to detail him what exactly had she been hearing and also doing at the time where the murder too place before thanking her once more and leaving the nurse from the ambulance to take care of her.


“So?” Sean turned when Nick came closer with a frustrated look.

“Nothing.” He said placing his hands on his hips before facing his partner. “What about you?”

“A lot, took some examples but we need to check them you in the lab.” He said knowingly.

“Ah. Let’s go back to SHIELD then.” Nick said with a sigh.

“Angsty little thing, isn’t she?” Wade hummed, leaning to one side and looking at the pouty little girl on her little perch. He waved, she frowned. “Outch. Kids these days.” He added, finally returning to the unmoving gun pointing at his head. It was broad daylight, in the middle of a parking lot, and this chick was still pointing a fucking Desert Eagle at his head. He resided into simply glaring her away, which proved to be more of a challenge than he’d expected it to be. She was, if possible, more stubborn than he was. His hands twitched, and her finger stilled over the trigger.
“It would be my absolute pleasure to demonstrate what you reaching for your guns earns you.” She glowered and he felt his lips tug at the corners involuntarily. This was bad.

[Mainly because hot chicks with guns and bloodlust really REALLY do it for us.]

{And let’s face it, our boy over here is so starved of human contact that he’d probably consider a bullet to the brain second base.} Oh fuck both of them, he wasn’t that needy … much.

“What makes you consider yourself our partner, and in what instance do you presume I would allow it?” She chose her words carefully, slowly. They  were pronounced in an even and controlled tone – and Wade wondered just how many years of abuse she had to go through to learn to burry herself that deep into self-control. But above all else, the word “I” stood out. She emphasized it, accentuated it, rolled it off her lips in such a manner that left no discernible shred of doubt  behind that she was the one in charge here, and her decision would ultimately save or end his life.


“I think I’m in ‘like’ …” he whispered dreamily to himself but quickly snapped out of it when he heard the safety of her trigger.

[More like sick with puppy love.]

{Ya know, if puppies flirted with loaded guns.}

“Focus.” She warned, her patience crumbling slowly within her.

“We are working the same case. Coincidently mine was given to me by a one eyes pirate in a nice oval office. The file was all nice and shiny with a giant official stamp on it. It was gold. The place I got it from recommends itself in initials and shit.” He smirked and she frowned  “I’m guessing yours didn’t come from quite so high up the food chain?”

Fuck. ‘Of course it didn’t.’ she wants to say, but instead favors using a distraction “Why would the government be interested in a wessen case?”

“We-what?” he frowned and she suddenly felt every bit of tension in her melt. He didn’t know. He was an outsider. Cary wasn’t in danger and she finally felt steady enough to take one long deep breath. A breath that didn’t go unnoticed by him, while his eyes slowly narrowed when her gun suddenly  - and quite uceremoniously- dropped to her side. A relaxed smile split her face and she breather towards the sky.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked after a few awkward seconds in which Wade wasn’t exactly sure if he should run away or start shooting. And yeah, that hurt a bit – who hadn’t heard of the merc with the mouth in NY before?

“Deadpool.” He deadpaned, arms crossing over his chest with an embarrassingly childish pout.

“Sorry.” She offered silently, perhaps sensing his disappointment and he finds that every part of him wished he’s go bury himself in cement; because pouting like a toddler is one thing, being offered apologies for your pout is an entire differemt ballgame of embarrassing. “New in town. Not exactly familiar with the superhero scene.”

“That’s fine. I’m more of an antihero. The fangirls always write me as an abrasive asshole with a heart.” She laughed, and a part of him melted into it; because holy shit this is the first time somebody didn’t find his ‘4th wall breaking’ jokes weird.

“Ah … I suppose mine would write slash about me and my kid sister then?” he broke into a hardy chuckle, and the boxes fell silent at the impossibility of how effortless this all suddenly feels. “So, mister Deadpool …” she hummed, holstering her gun and waving over her sister with a reassuring smile  “Is there a name attached this name, or do you suffer from secret identity-itis … like the rest of us?”

“Wade.”

[Caaaarreefull Icarus.]

{This is frighteningly comfortable. We should run away.}

[Seconded.] And for the first time in god knows how long, Wade Wilson made an individual decision against the consensus of his boxes.

“Denied.” He beamed, and ignores the confused little frown it earns him. “What’s your name though, little miss sunshine of complications?”

“Cath.”

“Cat? Like the animal? Do you lick your hands to wash your hair too?” she smileed, and shoved her hands into her pockets in a way that had him thinking she was actually relaxed.

“Cathaine …” she corrected “Cath for short.” He smiled at this, and she choughed into her hand before continuing “Look Wade. We don’t play well with others. “ yeah, ok his heart might have dropped a bit on that one  “And I would appreciate it if you told your little organization that. This isn’t something you can handle, and what me an Clary do?  Well this is kind of it. We’ve dealt with this on our own since … “ she broke into a strangled sigh that was universally understood by people like them. Everybody that got into this gig always came with a few demons along - it was part of the job; you didn't get to be a hero before you got stomped on by life a few fucking times.  “I’m sorry my sister killed you –“ he waved her off.

“Pi-shaaa.” He chimed “No harm no fowl. Sides I had it coming.”

“But our way of handling it  … might differ from yours.” She smiled to her side when her sister came up to the other side of the car and  climbed in “I’m just avoiding conflict here. Hope you don’t mind.” He noded sagely and watched with a hint of remorse as she climbed into her seat. “By the way …” she asked through the window over the sound of the booming motor “You never told me how you healed.”

“And you never told me why she went dark side.” He smirked back when she simply nods, winking and giving him a two finger salute in lieu of a goodbye.  “I’ll see you around  …” he paused “Cat.” And this time she genuinely smiled back.

“Better not. Might upset the delicate balance of our little universe.” And she just drove away. The best conversation he’d had in decades … and he let her drive the fuck away.

[Just to let you know, both of us want to choke you a bit right now.]

“Yeah. I want to choke me too.”


The door opened with a hydraulic huff that had Furry question if he should, maybe, get Tony up here to take a look at them - it was his tower, maintenance should be under Stark care anyway. His mind didnt wonder for too long when his two guests enter his office with police professional nods.

“Gentlemen, please.” He gestured towards the two seats in front of his desk “To what do I owe the pleause of a visit from New York’s finest?”

The feeling was not one of anticipation neither one of eagerness when they faced the person in charge of ‘unusual’ cases; nevertheless they had to proceed with the plan if they wanted the town to be safely of any kind that had an edge towards the unexplainable. Where people could not explain it then they could not cope with the fact that maybe something out of their imagination lived among them, therefore they would act accordingly.


“This case had been given to us and we-“ Nick shared a look with Sean as he searched briefly for the perfect words to not throw away their cover. “We think it is beyond our power to deal with.” He mentally snorted at how easy this became over the time. The fact that both of the detectives were not normal threw them into a world of myths which not even in million years Nick had thought of ever existing. Yet, here he was, with half Zauberbiest half Royal and he with a sixth sense which he developed right after his aunt died. Or so he got to the conclusion after months of denying his supernatural powers.


In advantage were them, because let’s face it; where there is the inexplicable then there is SHIELD. And where SHIELD is then there is a chance of finding yourself two feet underground or probably chopped in small pieces and erased from the face of the earth without no one knowing you had ever existed.


Probably for Nick this was as disturbing as he was. Not being able to actually do anything, fearing that you might get caught and just living outside your world. However it had its ups and they still had the chance to work on the case. Only with another few pairs of eyes staring at their backs.



“-exsanguination, hearts missing. That’s what we have so far. It is odd honestly because apparently all deaths are done in a public place, but dragged just further away, probably to finish them off.” Nick frowned at the silence they were greeted with. Sean on the other side was watching carefully every change of the face Furry did and he had to admit to himself that it gave nothing much nothing less than a mutual sentiment to him. As always the answer will be-



“Thank you for the cooperation, two of my men will contact you very shortly and work with you on the case.”


‘-work with you one the case.’ And as always the file remained in SHIELD hands and they were nicely invited to fuck off his office. Disturbing indeed. Nick and Sean nodded silently at the two agents who escorted them out the office and out the building.



“Well that went well.” Nick said burying his hands deep in his jacket while Sean straightened his coat before heading towards the car with a risen eyebrow.



====================================================================



The road was silent, both girls knowing it was best to just forget about the earlier conflict. Especially Clarise who was on the edge of just shouting at her sister for actually blowing their cover to a complete stranger, not to mention the sweet sickly act she pulled earlier.


It was about an hour later when the younger of the two couldn’t hold it anymore. So she snapped.


“What the hell was that?” her head turned towards her sister as the latter pulled the car into a private less crowded parking lot where one of their trailers was parked. “You do realize that you just told a complete stranger a small amount of truth!” she snapped, she knew she was going at it almost screaming, but she couldn’t help it. “Enough truth for him to just go and search.” Her voice lowered a bit when she noticed the small cringe in her twin.


Frustration was saying it’s word and combining it with tiredness and almost losing control over a human being no matter how fast he healed just didn’t work well inside Clarise.


“Look I’m…I’m sorry…” she said the words disappearing as she turned and looked for the key.

“Would it help at all if I said I simply trusted my instincts?” she shrugged in response and fallowed her inside the mangled little trailer. They had these little ‘safe houses’ set up throughout the country. Littering the map in key locations, these tin cans were a Grimm’s last line of defense; filled with everything from lore to weaponry, and only employed when the usual methods failed in a hunt - or in the off chance they encountered something they hadn’t encountered before.

Like now. Cath sighed, rubbing a heavy hand on the back of her neck and eyeing the bookshelf in front of her with silent hatred. Great. Another night of reading old german lore and flipping through dusty pages – oh how fun this sounded.

“I really don’t want to fight. And I really don’t want you to apologize for losing it – it’s part of you Clare, you can’t apologize for who you are.” It sounded strained and exhausted even to her own ear, and the fact that her words were followed by a graceless drop into an old chair in front of the book pilled table didn’t manage to make the speech sound any more believable. She resided into simply resting her forehead into her hands – elbows perched over the rotted oak table – and simply let the air escape her into a long strangled sigh.

“I don’t want to fight.” She said again, lower , almost whispered into nothingness – eyes unmoving from a page both of them knew she wasn’t reading - and that sentence seemed to carry an entire different meaning to it all of the sudden when the word ‘anymore’ was left hanging between them. “He didn’t smell like a wesen, he didn’t feel like a wesen, he didn’t look or act like one. Saying very little to a man that proved more than familiar with his own brand of weird didn’t seem like too much of a risk. I mean … what are the odds that a mutant could pick up a fairytale book and connect the dots when neither nor me … big managing fucking Du’Buhuir Grimms can’t figure it out?”






“And you just let them get away?” Peter’s felt his voice croak over the sentence, while his friend simply shrugged and took a bite out of his hotdog.

“Fuck all I could do.” Wade shrugged and licked the mustard off his chapped lips. His mask was raised to the bridge of his nose in favor of partaking into their traditional ‘post patrol hotdog’, while his scars shifted into a very faint smirk . Peter frowned.

“What did you do, Wilson?” He narrowed his eyes towards the suddenly sheepish looking mercenary who just rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Nothing. Honest.” He defended “Just that … I had a conversation.” Peter felt his eyes widen – Wade Wilson and conversations … he’d pay money to see that. “One of them, the potato wheedling one, “ he corrected, and Peter nodded sagely – already familiar with the beginning of the story “She just seemed very … I don’t know … I suppose cool would be the word?”

“Cool?”

“She talked, leveled with me … human to human ya know. Not human to –“ he trailed, gesturing to himself in a way that had Peter frowning at the implication. “She didn’t judge.” Wade said, then added “And man you should see the legs on this chick. I mean, they were twins … so her sister has the same pair of everythings. But they look better on this one than the other. Don’t know why.” He shrugged and Peter barely held in the grin.

“You have a crush.” He declared with a self-satisfied smirk that only grew wider when Wade started hacking on his hotdog.

“Moi?” Peter nodded and the mercenary faked an indignant look. “Please …” he huffed and turned his eyes toward the skyline

“I get crushes on anyone who doesn’t kick me in the balls for fun. Hell, I had one on you the first time we met. “Peter nodded behind his hotdog “And Captain America Pants, and Iron Dong, Natasha, Cable … but Nate was –“ he doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Peter to know where it was going.

“Hey, she was nice and didn’t shoot you –“ Peter offers

“Unlike that little Anakin Skywalker of a sister she has.” Wade interjects

“And we’re working the same case, maybe we’ll run into them again?” Wade snorts at that one. The cynical, self-deprecating part of him slowly seeping through.

“Please. Baby boy, even if we do, what makes you think I’d do shit?” he asks, trying to ignore how much just thinking about this stings “It’s a crush, they come and go.”

[Kinda like human kindness.]

“I’ll probably won’t even remember her name by tomorrow .”

{Her name was Cathaine.}

[But we’ll call her Cat. Because she has the same look Vanessa did.] Strong, independent, gentle – Wade completes mentally.

{And maybe when she smiled at us it killed us a little on the inside.} He sighs at that one and tosses the mustard stained napkin off the side of the building.

“It won’t happen, Peter.” And he knows Peter stilled mid bite at that one because Wade never called him by his full name – in or out of costume. “Come on though, we gotta track down those cops and get them to … help” he finishes the word with flamboyant air quotes.

Sean Renard was a very patient and high class man; waiting for the right moment to act, speaking when it was necessary and acting accordingly. Tall, handsome and courteous, he had many enemies from his inside world as well as the outside. What no one knew was that he was not any ordinary person, except for his partner Nick, who was congeneric, with less or more unusual powers. He was a Zauberbiest from his mother side and part Royal from his father. To think that a man of his power would run away and just settle as a police officer could be associated with betrayal, yet for him was nothing more than running away for his life. Any contact he had with his family remained strictly formal and nothing else.

Hiding his true identity was a challenge when he was paired with Nick few years ago and he found it slightly disturbing so eventually, reaching the stage where he had to roughly surface it, Sean decided to let the truth slip. After all Nick was the only person he placed trust in more than his own family and it took a short period for the two of them to develop a strong friendship.



Nick on the other side was more of an outgoing person. Kind and heartwarming he could break the ice and make people around him feel safe, no matter what they were. Binding friendships with a lot of the wesen kind he was well known around them and in return they had kept the secret hidden. Rosalie and Monroe were his first encounters when he first realized his powers. His aunt Marie had told him he was no normal man, but he had not believed a word and instead he just denied it, but when things started to feel wrong it was already too late.


It took him about a year to realize what happened and how and why and with no one to give him any proper explanation, he found his life slowly falling apart. Juliette, his girlfriend that time could not accept the fact that Nick was not someone that she was used to had left suddenly, after calling him a complete psychopath. Eventually Nick sank his whole life around his work until Sean appeared and that’s when everything finally sketched itself into his new life.
With Sean’s help, he realized the true world he had been living in his whole life.




The office was crowded and loud as usual and if it wasn’t for the stack of files to cover the noise, Nick thought he could go crazy any moment. Sean had not been in with him due to some personal problems he had to take care of that late night, so he got stuck with paper work until late in the morning.


Taking a sip of his already cooled coffee he stared at the files once more.


“Can’t believe Sean dumped you.”

At the sound of that his body jerked back staring at no one else but sergeant Wu.

“Can’t say the same thing. He left me with all these unsolved cases.” He frowned once more as his hand automatically reached for the coffee.

“Are you edgy for something?” Wu questioned, taking a seat next to him and grabbing a cold fried potato.

“Juliette texted me last night.” Nick added, the frown deepening.

“Okay. Not my thing.” Wu said rising just as fast as he sat down. “Last time my girlfriend text me after 2 months of relationship was to ask me that she had found a pair of underwear which apparently were not even mine.” He made a grimace and left.


At that Nick just raised two eyebrows and watched the retreating back of his colleague before shaking his head and turning back towards his files.





--------------------------------------------------------




She shouldn’t have done that. Clarise knew it was the worst idea to sneak out on her sister but she needed to get out of that suffocating space. She needed to be alone and think! Her leg hit a rock sending it few meters away. The night breeze send shivers down her body as she walked on the uneven ground with her hands behind her back. It was quiet and she knew better than to let her guard down, even though the thought was almost blissful.

The fact that Cathaine told that stranger something about them still lingered in her mind with an unpleasant feeling and she couldn’t shake it off no matter what.


After what felt like long minutes of grimacing and mentally hitting and killing she finally found it necessary to fall on the rocky part of the lake, back leaning against an uncomfortable rock and starring at the clear starry sky.


“Why can I not just be like her?” she asked no one and when no reply came she just sighed and closed those blue eyes, letting her ears be her guide.



Nights of training and sparring with her sister had finally took their result when she sensed something coming towards her. And fast.

Everything happened so fast that she could barely realize when she jumped and faced the figure which in return started back with glowering eyes.

Clarise narrowed her eyebrows and leaned forward a bit to attack the person. It was a swift and calculated move and yet it was inefficient because by the time her fist was supposed to connect with the face there was nothing and Clarise almost stumbled forward but regained balance fast enough to do a perfect elegant cartwheel, returning her body to face the now smirking person.


Blue eyes took in some seconds to analyze the figure closely. It was curvy and slim so it had to be a female, but the hoody on its head gave away that thought. The growl resounded through the small opening and she knew immediately it was a blutbaden she was facing. Ferocious, she thought smirking and it almost made her blood boil on the inside. It had been some time since she encountered one of them.

Excitement took over her body while adrenaline coursed through her veins and she could almost feel her eyes changing.


Clarise launched forward a second time, but this time she stopped close enough to predict the others move and when the body jerked backwards she send her fist close enough to almost connect with the chest. When she felt a warm hand and finger tightening around her arm it made her smile as she brought the other hand on the person’s shoulder and pushed her legs, sending her gracefully behind its back. A hand wrapped around the other one’s neck as the other one pulled hard from the still locked position.


Clarise knew what was coming and when the head was thrown backwards she couldn’t help but smirk as she moved her head on the side to avoid the painful hit, but it was enough of an opening for the other one to grab her jacket and throw her body over the shoulder.

Clarise’s body moved swiftly and re-positioned into a bridge stance and she found the perfect moment to sneak a peek at the other one’s face. It was a brownish color, smooth and girly and those teeth that came out were perfectly sharp and white.

She didn’t realize she had been staring until her body hit the ground loud, almost leaving her without a breath and without the person above her.

Her body regained its defensive stage fast enough to counter the attack with her arm.



The fight was even and elegant, swift and menacing in the same time. Both could read into their moves and counter the attacks equally. It felt like the times when Clarise was sparring with her sister, yet this one was not just a game, it was her life in the middle. Through her sniffs and huffs of air she could feel the perfume which bordered on cinnamon and if it wasn't for her dark side she swore she could have been lost in it forever. Damn pheromones and all.

It was few full minutes since she had been continuously moving and as soon as it started as fast it ended. The figure growled low and jumped back leaving Clarise with a defensive stance before disappearing into the small forest.



Blue eyes blinked few times and listened carefully for any movement and when enough time passed and she was sure no other attack was coming she let her body relax and her breath out. Her body straightened with few cracks before something sticky was felt coursing down from her chest, gluing the fabric on her skin.


Clarise hissed at the stingy feeling before letting a curse escape her lips. “Shit.” Two fingers were brought up to check the damage. She was slashed quite a lot, leaving behind a 3 inch opening and about as long as her whole chest.

“Cathaine is gonna destroy me…” she moaned, walking towards the river while her hands undressed her upper part slowly not to stretch more the wound, before jumping in the cold water.

Two weeks passed, and five more bodies are added to the list. The city slowly descends into panic, and almost every New Yorker shares the same silent panicked stare as they read into their morning paper ‘Heart Breaker serial killer still on the loose’ in big bold lettering. Whoever he is, he seems brutal and keen on focusing on his victims. Patterns emerge, slowly between the corpses, and little by little the police think they finally patched together a profile. They are wrong.  
“He prefers quiet secluded individuals, people that blend into crowds and would not be missed. People that would not put up a fight nor be too hard to dispose of. White male, early 30’s, stable job, recluse, no family ties”; The profile read, and Cath almost rolled her  eyes at it if it weren’t for the fact that they were knee deep in a police station in some raggedy part of the Bronx, and flashing their fake Fed badges just to get a lead.

She spared a glance towards her sister, who was hunched over a police report – a small frown tugging at her delicate features - and a part of Cath wished she could smile at it.

She doesn’t.

It’s been two weeks since they returned to the states, two weeks since they started this case, and two weeks since Cath promptly decided to ignore the blood stained shirt and chest wide gash that Clarise walked in with that one faithful night. She didn’t ask, didn’t prod, and looked away when her sister sewed the wound shut with some questionable dental floss and an old needle in their motel room.  She knew it wasn’t perhaps the best approach, and that the fact that she looked away from it made Clarise even more on edge. But if Clarise didn’t approach it, she wouldn’t either – she had no right.
Right now thought, she had to focus on this – despite her better judgment.

The profile was  wrong, she sighed over the spread out official looking documents and tried to refocus on what they already knew. He was feeding – there were claw and teeth marks on the vics to back this up – and if the increased number of victims were any indication, then his appetite was growing. Whatever he was though, he wasn’t like anything they ever seen before; he was intelligent, predatory, but at the same time he was solely driven by his primal instincts. There was no hesitation in his kills, and the haphazard dumping grounds  ( some in alleys, some in Central Park, some even in the middle of the god damn street) meant that he was confident enough to not consider the consequences. Or at the very least … not be afraid of them.

His hunt pattern was also wrongly assessed by the profilers – he didn’t choose his victims their willingness to resist,  but rather based on their … she cringed … purity. All of his victims had been virgins – by either choice or coincidence. Which meant that a part of him either craved the hormonal purity, or genuinely needed it in order to survive. Oh fuck this case and how weird it was getting by the second. And fuck the nypd for not picking up on this clue faster.

“Found anything yet?” she flinched out of her own thought process and looked over her shoulder to the shorter Asian looking officer that simply smiled from the doorway.

“No.” she said simply, and it almost hurt to admit how honest that answer was. She gave him a pointed look, expecting him to take a hint and vacate their sight. But if he picked up on it, he didn’t show it. “Can I help you?” she asked, a dry tone dripping from her lips at the obvious nosiness of the officer that was most definitely too smart for his own good. He simply smiled and shrugged one shoulder –matter of facty – before throwing a thumb over it  and saying:

“Some SHIELD agents are here to talk to our lead detectives on the case. I figured the FBI would like to trade stories.”

“You figured wrong.” She said, suddenly standing and pocketing the notes she took from the folders. “Our agencies don’t go to the same company picnic .” she smiled tightly, pushing past him and ducking down the hallway with her sister trailing behind before the ‘agents’ could notice them. She kept her cool when she recognized  him from the corner of her eyes, and clenched her fist around her briefcase in a tightly wound tension until the elevator doors dinged shut behind them.

“Fuck …” she breathed, hand tremblingly running down her face as she leaned heavily against the  back of the elevator.
“Close …” she whispered “Too fucking close.”



Of course he recognized her. He picked up her perfume from the moment he stepped through the elevator doors with Peter trailing behind and talking his ear off about god knows what nerdgasm he was currently going through. The Hobbit? Lord of the rings? Fuck if he knew, or cared.

[We should tottes say hi to her.] his white box gleed in bright orange font in front of him.

{Definitely, and ask her if she’d like to see the big gun we’re packing} Wade snorted at that. Like something like that would work on a woman like her. So he goes against his boxes, for the second time since meeting this woman, and decided that playing dumb this one time was perhaps in their best interest.

He flinched when she passed by them – head held high and hand clenched around her briefcase, trying to keep control over being discovered no doubt – and chose to gulp in a breath and laugh hardy at Peter’s joke. And Peter’s eyes narrow; a movement so minute and well hidden behind his mask that it almost surprised Wade that he even picked it up.

What?” Peter said, voice suspicious and jaw suddenly tight. Fuck.

“Later sunshine.” He glowers over his shoulder, and maybe thanks his stars, when he spots the two officers heading their way “We have to talk shop with the poepoe now.”

She quietly stared ahead at the blurry reflection on the elevator doors. Two figures of the same height and the same nature yet with two different ways of thinking. Clarise mostly kept her mouth shut afraid of what her voice may sound like. The roughly closed wound pained enough to not thrust her judgment. The battle with her became harder to be controlled and that almost got her edgy most of the time.
She had seen him as well and as Cathaine, she held herself high, avoiding any contact with the man.


“He has something in his mind.” She eventually whispered when the engine sparked to life with that familiar sound. “Things are getting way out of hand and too many people are getting involved.” Her head turned towards Cath and seeing the frown over that face she just let out a silent sigh, leaned deeper into her seat and just turned towards the window resting the chin on the palm of her hand.





==============================================





By the time Sean came back, Nick had already passed through all the files, writing down several clues that could lead them, in some way or another, to the killer. It was already passed ten and he was getting hungry.


“You have time for some late breakfast?” he asked Sean.

“No. And neither do you.” When the quirked eyebrow came as a reply Sean turned his head towards two awfully odd men.

“SHIELD.”

A nod.

The grimace Nick made was followed by the severe look on Sean’s face but nevertheless they headed their way.

“Gentlemen.” The greeting apparently was unpleasant for none of the four men.

The “poepoe” ended up being surprisingly cooperative about the whole thing. Information was passed freely between the two teams , and it took Peters a moment to realize that they weren’t technically working this case from the same angle. The NYPD may have wanted to catch a criminal and put a city as ease, but SHIELD simply wanted to eliminate a threat to the population’s already fragile stand on mutant equality. It was brutal and fairly political from both angles, and yeah maybe a part of him did fell a bit left out. So he said something stupid. And he knew it was stupid by the way Deadpool stilled besides him, shoulders tensing and jaw clenching while the scenario ran wild in his head.

“Hey you guys mind if we grab something to eat while we mull this over?” he offered, hand gesturing vaguely in an attempt at diminishing the importance of the giant fucking olive branch he just extended to the NYPD of all things.
But Wade was frozen.

“Uh …” it was genuinely rare to look over the sight of a speechless Deadpool. And this was coming from the man that had known him for the past ten years and had been best friend with him for the past nine and a three quarters. So peter elbowed him, hard, in the ribs and he was sure he would have left a bruise behind if Wade’s body wasn’t so proficient on mending itself. “Yeah let’s … go all kumbaya up in this mother!” Wade instantly corrected, hands extending dramatically and Peters sighed into his hand, head shaking slowly and disapprovingly.



They were sitting in a diner, files haphazardly spread in front of them while the food they – or more specifically Cath – ordered threatened on tottering slimy and greasy over everything. Her suit jacket was tossed carelessly to the side of the booth, shirt buttons opened to her collarbone, and the long white sleeves of her dress shirt had been messily rolled up to her elbows. This along with the burger and shake that was rapidly being devoured like it was the last meal she’d enjoy, while she was hunched over a dusty old book made her look like the picture of exhaustion itself.

She frowned slightly, taking in Calry’s much neater and well-kept appearance in contrast to her own before slumping into the plush red seat with a sigh.

“Am I girly enough?” she asked, a slight pout suddenly making an appearance “Or do I extrude dike?” and maybe Clary would have snorted, called her an idiot for overthinking shit, maybe she would have even been supportive – if Cath’s eyes wouldn’t have suddenly snapped at the door while a whispered “Shit” rolled off her tongue.

That might have been unexpected from a couple of SHIELD agents to just offer themselves so offhandedly to a foursome lunch meeting as if they had known each other for a life time. Hell, not even Sean and Nick went out, sharing opinions about a case where neither party could place a sure answer as of what could possibly lead to solving a case.

So when the offer came out of nowhere Nick and Sean shared a questionable look before reaching a mutual agreement.



“That was not weird at all.” Nick broke the silence as he drove the car right behind the other two’s. Truth to be told, Nick had sensed from the beginning of the meeting that the SHIELD agents involved in the case were not like any other he had encountered, yet he kept the professional look.

“Keep on acting normal and don’t let anything slip.” Sean replied watching straight ahead.

“Do you think they are up to something?”

“Not for now. But the little guy seems opened.” Nick nodded, his lips almost pulling into a smile. There was something about the two that he couldn’t shake off. Who knew SHIELD had friendly agents.



When the car pulled over in front of a very casual restaurant they shared a look and Nick almost mentally laughed at the look on Sean’s face. His partner did not like casual restaurants. Freaking royal ass.




====================================================




Clarise was about to reply to that pout her sister gave only to have the words die in her throat when the mighty ‘Shit’ came out next to her.

And yes that was completely unexpected when that cursed door opened to reveal that one person who made her blood rush through her body at high speed.


“Fuck.” Clarise followed the chain of curses when her eyes dropped on the first man. Then her body became suddenly tense when the second and third came in. What made her blood flow angrily through her veins and her eyes go wild was when the fourth person entered.


“Cathaine.” She threatened when the hand came in contact with her arm painfully, the nails almost drawing blood from the power. The smell filled the whole room and it was almost unbearable, both knowing that only one kind could smell like that. Hexenbiest.

But what was weird was that neither of them were women so that meant one thing.


“Zauberbiest.” Clarise growled as she tried to keep a hold of herself. “Cathaine…” she called again towards her sister, almost pleading as she felt herself falling into darkness.

There was a second of panic that flashed in Cath’s eyes while her sense’s flooded with the familiar scent of Clare’s crumbling control. It was a sickeningly sweet scent that poured out of her sister and collided head first with the bitter and putrid one of the Zauberbiest. She sniffed lightly, wincing at the nails that dug deep enough into her forearm to draw blood before she murmured.

“The pompous suit.” She said “He smells relaxed… and accepted.” She adds as an afterthought. It was something that both of them could do and that neither of them heard of any of their ancestors being able too – the ability to not only literally sniff out a wesen, but also hints of attitude and emotions. “If we leave we will only draw out attention. “ she said as she placed a strong hand over Clare’s shaking one “He will follow and this time I’m not sure if he’ll choose to go easy on you when you lose it.” She adds because she is certain of this above all else. He didn’t carry those blades and guns for show, and no matter how skilled her sister was or how much Cath had trained with her; if the enemy can regenerate he will keep coming over and over – relentlessly – until his pray will fall.

She closed her eyes and willed her heat beat down to a more manageable rhythm; one that wouldn’t throttle next to Clare’s so perfectly, and that would be slow enough for make her sister realize how fast hers was by comparison. It was a weak strategy, and one that she placed little faith in to begin with, but – after a few minutes of controlled breathing, and subsequent ignorance of the slowly building puddle of blood under her arm – Clare finally let go. A deep, shaking sigh huffing out of her as she slumps into her seat; still tense but more in control than she was a second ago. Good.

“I’ll hang back, and you can make for the bathroom and take the window exi-“ she stops midsentence because that’s when it finally hits her. A third smell. It was slow and lingering, with a hint of familiarity that made her think of the old herd garden their mother used to keep, and of freshly cut grass. It tugs at something inside her, and it rolls up her spine and settles neatly in the very pit of her chest where it spills, warm and welcoming. She shivers against it, eyes closing and a breath rushing through her nose while she tries to come to terms with it.

“Clary …” she says under her breath, unwilling to open her eyes and lock them on the source of the scent because if she did she wouldn’t be held accountable for her reaction – be it violent, terrified, or overly fucking familiar. “There’s one of us here.” And it sounds ridiculous as soon as it leaves her lips. Because there can’t be any more left, they haven’t ran into one in twenty years … and now all of the sudden a Grimm. A grimm that was sharing a table with two mutants and a Zauberbiest.

“Fuck.”



He wondered absentmindedly if this was fate or some form of sick punishment. The later fallows briefly with a “Who would ever hate us this bad.” Before he snorts at himself.

[Who wouldn’t.] So he quietly came to the conclusion that this was some form of divine punishment; because honestly, the universe was that fucking cruel to show a starving dog a steak he couldn’t have.

{Fuck the universe. Didn’t we kill it once?}

[I think that was the Marvel Universe. And we just killed Captain Murica and Spidey. Among others … everyone really.]

{Spidey noooooooo!!!!!}

[It’s ok, in this universe we’re more cuddly.]

{And angsty. Look how he’s brooding.} Wade snorted into his coffee, ignoring the startling look the waitress gave him, because he was not angsty god damn it. He was manly, and broody. Yeah, he’ll go with broody.

And unlucky. Because whatever bond him and Peter had formed over the years apparently armed the young man next to him with ‘motherhen superpowers’ and he suddenly narrowed at Wade. And Wade knew instantly that his entire body language was like a ‘how-to’ for Deadpool. Fuck.

Peter’s eyes went from him, them to the booth in the corner that Wade hated himself for staring at, and then back at Wade and he smiled. He fucking smiled. Slow and sweet and leering beneath that mask that Wade really wished he could put a bullet through, and elbowed him lightly – almost playfully.

“You got taste.” He said with a shit eating grin that Wade could see through his mask. Fuck Parker and his overly nosy nature.

“Fuck off.” He said bitterly into his cup, and prays that Peter won’t suggest what he suspects he will suggest.

“Hey, go over there.” Oh fuck his luck “They were working on this too, right?” he adds under his breath while he uses his menu as a shield against their companions – subtle, Wade snorts. “So ask them if they want to help?”

“I am rather fond of my balls, Spidey. Thank you very much.” He deadpans, not caring how loud or if the cops in front of him heard it.