Small-fortunes - Small Fortunes

Drawing of Ed/The Riddler's manipulation towards Oswald

Thanks to @small-fortunes for inspiring this piece of art!

Who Is Judeth Clayton?

I.

Will.

Eat.

You.

Alive.

|| @reigningmonarch42 ||

Square for thought.

George Tonks  -  https://www.instagram.com/george.j.tonks  -  https://twitter.com/georgejtonks  -  https://www.behance.net/georgetonks  -  https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/georgejtonks  -  https://www.facebook.com/georgetonksillustrations  -  https://www.linkedin.com/in/georgetonks

|| All the possibilities.... ||

Designed by @reigningmonarch42

Your character is interesting! And I love f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat!! They are so original. I’ve been afraid to message them but seem outstanding.

Hello there dear reader,

Thank you very much for your kind words! The character of Judeth Clayton began as an original spark of inspiration and has over the past three weeks exploded into a deeply layerd tapestry that has been very well received. I hope to reveal her digital novel to the Tumblr world in time as Fortis and I labour loving together to write a truly powerful story worthy of continuing the much loved John Wick saga.

Role play writing with experienced gamers is a truly enriching pass time that leads it's self to valuable skill. Thus, I urge you to reach out to Fortis if you'd like to interact and indulge your creative urges. Liz (Fortis) is an intelligent, dynamic and deeply vibrant author. She encourages depth, description and florid imagination. For Wick, she is a marvel. Her continuity, honour code and passion marks her the best in class. You could collaborate with no better! 😁

So strap yourself in and prepare. This is a out of this world ride!

Much respect,

L. G. Spider

God he was bitter. Blood boiling, red anger. Ares had texted him as he was sorting his bags, ready to leave, take his car to the air port. Unfinished business in Vienna. He left on a "family medical emergency" but they wouldn't hold her papers forever. It had been three weeks now, he had to go back. Even if he did want to slap her face. he pulled out his phone and read the message: 'Boss... you're being a fuck. Her real dad is here. The bastard that left her and her mother to die. He's actually come right into the hotel and he's downstairs with her now. Hector and Chris are guarding. But she's fucked over. And she's aching for you. You gotta let this go, Tino. It's not fair.'

He texted her back. He shouldn't have. But he'd finally had enough of her constant digging. Her and his entire Guard. He couldn't free himself from any of them. Christov, Marcus, Tony, Hector, Curtis.... Ares just added to the fire. So he gave in. Jabbing at his screen. His eyes stinging with unshed tears. And his shoulder burned where he'd be shot last week. Grazed by a bullet because he'd been careless on the field thinking of her in the middle of a hit job in Whitechapel that didn't go down according to plan. She was doing this to him. Making him lose focus. Lose control. 'She fucked another woman.' He pressed Send. Threw the phone on the bed and went to get his jacket out of the wardrobe. His arms had just slipped through when his phone went off again. He picked it up...Though he didn't want to. Unlocked the screen. And read Ares' reply. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

That cut him. He turned and with a roar he threw the phone into his bedroom mirror with such force the glass exploded in the antique gilded frame sending shards smashing out into all directions. The sound of glass cracking and giving way to impact. Like his heart was. Like his torn soul. Chaos... pain and chaos... Her father was here? Her biological father?   Really? He checked his holster. Four magazines, his beloved Baretta 92S, loaded and ready to go off. He flicked his thumb over the safety, releasing it. Fuck hotel rules. Fuck this stranger in his head. In his heart. He wanted to kill her. That's why he took to the streets and got reckless. Coming home shot up and bleeding over Sable's counter. "Rough night, Mr. D'Antonio?" The concierge asked. "Sempre duro, ultimamente." (Always rough, lately.) He'd answered.

He left the room behind. In the ruins of a broken mirror. His phone on the ground... the words appearing on the spiderweb of cracked glass that made up his broken screen. 'Marissa Conti Mark 2. Your call Boss.'

Ares sent the whole crew an SOS text. 'Guys... I think Tino's coming downstairs. He's going to be pissed off at us, big time. I just learned why he's been so salty this month. Lali's fucked another girl! No wonder! Guys, I mentioned Marissa again... I'm fucked right?'

Curtis responded. Marcus responded. 'We'll make your funeral arrangements babe. What colour you want your casket?' 'I'll go get a priest. Last Rites in Latin. Riposa in pace, Ares Vanguard.'

Sir Sable greeted the Italian crime boss with a bow of his head. "Good afternoon, Mr. D'Antonio. Your car is awaiting collection out front. Is there anything else I can do to ease you into your flight?" Santino's eyes were hard. He'd lost his smile a month ago and walked like a man ready for war. "Mr. DeMentriento, Lalienna's father is here?" "In the drawing rooms, Sir. With Miss DeMentriento. And she appears extremely distressed." "How much to make you lift house rules?" The question was fired as a bullet. He came at the counter now and looked Sable dead in the eyes. The two men glared daggers at each other. Sable was furious. Murder? In his house?! Unthinkable! "Can you really afford Excommunication, Mr. D'Antonio?" A growl, through gritted teeth. Sable reared like a wolf. He asked without flinching. He meant it. He'd make the call to Jeremy. "Can you? Prince of Rome?"

He won. Santino backed away. A smile that didn't reach his eyes played about his features. "No." He stepped away from the counter. Away from Sable whose hand was on the phone. And he stalked the lobby. Ares appeared from the gardens. And Marcus from the stairwell. The pair flanked him. Silent. They were tense. Tight. Militant. Marching two paces behind the Italian prince. The doors of the drawing room were opened back for the trio. There she was.... This was the first time he'd laid eyes on her in a month. And there was a man beside her... in front of her. Talking. Chistov eyed down his employer. Anger and pity upon his face. Fucking Ares.... she'd told them everything, hadn't she? Did they read the text? Did they now know the truth? Why he was angry?

Hector was appeared now, tense and aggravated. He’d gotten the text. He read everything. Christov signed to him: ‘Dude, you were supposed to hold him up? Distraction!’

Hector replied with quick hands: ‘Bad timing. This could get ugly. Watch for his guns. Protect Lali.’

"Lalienna. Santino stopped his march just inside the room. Waiting  for her to turn. To face him. He wanted to see the damage. The ruins he'd dragged her through. Was that her father? That man right there? He breathed in... a shuddering breath. Breathed out. Stepped forward. Extended his hand. This was his lover's father. He'd pay his respects. Even if he did want to put a bullet in his fucking brain. "Signore.... I'm your daughter's intended. Santino D'Antonio, how do you do?"

Tears formed in her jade eyes, lip quivering slightly. She held back a sob, taking a breath.

“You...you never wanted me?” It felt as though her heart was breaking. Literally. The strings of her cardiac muscles were snapping, leaving her in the worst pain she’s ever felt... and she’s felt a lot of shit. She’s been through the worst, through hell. But this...this was worse. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her lungs wouldn’t produce the oxygen needed to stay alive. God, make it stop. Stop it! She couldn’t handle it. She clutched her heart, squeezing the fabric of her shirt in her fists. Her eyes broke. They relayed how she felt. So so so so ruined. So torn. So...worthless. Thrown away.

————

@f0rtis-fortuna-adiuvat // here is your angst. Do with it what you will. ;) have fun, my angel of sadness.

Short story for @small-fortunes' #weekly writer's prompt ! This was alot of fun to do and when I started I couldn't stop- I apologise if it goes off the rails slightly I haven't practiced in a while!

They stood there, facing each other down from across the room amidst a cacophony of noise.

Ed’s mind was crumbling. It was crumbling as he was desperately trying to pick up the fragments, to understand. The delicate and complex machinery of his brain had failed. He knew it would happen one day, one day he wouldn’t understand.

But that day had come earlier than he had expected. But that’s the irony of it; It had failed because he couldn't comprehend his current situation. It wasn’t predictable. His greatest ally had failed.

His mind had now blurred into one white slab as he shakily fell to his knees. He felt Oswald’s demeaning gaze piercing his head.

“I have a riddle for you, Ed.”

No! No more riddles Oswald please he pleaded silently, his ears ringing as an explosion crumbled the building next to them.

“A nightmare for some. For others, a saviour I come.”

Colourful lights flashed past Ed’s closed eyelids as Oswald began limping closer, clutching his cane.

“My hand’s cold and bleak. It’s the warm hearts they seek.”

Oswald hobbled closer as Ed knelt on the floor, hands protectively over his head. He savoured seeing Ed in such a weak, vulnerable position.

“What’s the answer, riddler?” He mocked, eyes pointed.

Ed didn’t answer. He was still trying to piece his mind back together. Whatever Oswald had done to it, whatever he had done, he would fix it. He would.

Oswald was getting impatient.

“Answer me!” he yelled threateningly, raising his cane and striking his face aggressively.

Ed flinched as blood trickled from his now bruised cheek. What had put them in this situation? How had it turned out like this? He tried to rewind his mind back, to find the missing information, but it was corrupted. The tape had burnt out and broke.

“I-I don’t know” Ed muttered, his voice cracking as he weakly looked up to Oswald. 

His brain felt like it had been pulled apart and that a toddler was attempting to fit it back together; like some cheap, colourful puzzle to challenge the child’s mental capacity. 

That’s all it was now.

Oswald smirked approvingly, crouching down so that his eyes were level with Ed’s.

“What was that?” 

He sneered, making an ‘i can’t hear you gesture’ with his hand.

Ed’s eyes dimmed as the last of his reputation was pulled from him. He feebly looked up at Oswald, his gaze focusing in an out at random.

“I don’t know!” 

He sobbed, his bones shaking as he fell into a heap.

Oswald laughed heartily. It was a horrible, maniacal laugh that made Ed’s eyes sink into their skull. Oswald suddenly took hold of Ed’s suit and shook it violently, making Ed look into his eyes. 

“Look at me” he spat

“Look at me and see how you have failed. How, because of me, your whole life has begun falling around you. Look at me and see fear. You have nothing, Edward Nygma. Not me, not Gotham, not even your own Mind.”

Ed sobbed harder. “What did you do…”

Oswald laughed again as Ed heard a click as he drew a pistol. He loaded it and pressed it into the side of Ed’s head.

“Look around you, Ed. Look out the windows. Look properly.”

Ed slowly turned his head to look. It was Gotham. In ruins.

“This is my fault, Ed. I did this! I bet you hate me now, don’t you?” Oswald shook him violently again.

Ed didn’t respond, he just stared solemnly at Oswald. There was a pause as Ed closed his eyes, wishing this wasn’t real.

Oswald smiled and rested his finger on the trigger of the gun.

“The answer was death, Edward. Ha! Couldn’t even answer his own riddle. So this is what I've reduced you to, Hm? Well, not to gloat but i think i’ve done a pretty good job myself” He smiled gleefully and gave himself a mental pat on the back.

“Look at you! Wow, the great Riddler, no longer safe in his own body! Your own Mind hates you!” He tilted his head to the side “Well, I might as well put you out of your misery. You’re ruining the mood” He frowned. 

“Oh, also, the answer was death!” He chuckled and pulled the trigger.

Ed’s pupils dilated as he realised what was happening. He welcomed it. His world was no more. He had nothing left.

He heard the click of the pistol and felt a sharp pain. He felt his conscious splattered against the floors and walls of Gotham. He felt his mind obliterated, and he felt the cold. The cold was the worst of it. The endless cold that never stopped. 

It crept over his whole being, inside and out. It grasped him and held him tightly.

It suffocated him, and his mouth constantly gasped for freedom. But it never came.

No. What?

That’s wrong. Is it?

How did this happen? You know.

What happened…? You know!

No, he wouldn’t do this. Would he?

This is wrong. It’s completely correct!

No. Yes! 

Ed’s mouth finally gasped the freedom and warmth that he had searched for, as he was plunged upright through the cold waters of death suddenly. His pupils were small and his gaze shook as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. He coughed dryly and wheezed for air.

“Ed..?”

 He flinched as he heard that voice, and slowly turned his head to see Oswald looking at him, confused.

“What happened, you look like you’ve seen Fish Mooney’s ghost”

He chuckled lightly and reached over to hold Ed’s shoulder reassuringly. Ed flinched away from his touch, and raised his hands defensively. He took a sharp breath in as he realised he was covered in a cold sweat.

“N-no leave me alone, I know what you did! I saw you!”

He began muttering inaudibly, his eyes growing wide as he sat face to face with the person who had just killed him.

Oswald frowned and shook his head gently.

“Ed… I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t real… it was just a nightmare”

Ed didn’t seem convinced.

Oswald slowly raised his hand and cupped Edward’s cheeks gently. Oswald’s touch was warm, and Ed melted into it, slowly warming up.

It was enough to reassure him, and suddenly he felt a heavy stone in his stomach. He hadn’t trusted Oswald, of all people!

“I’m sorry Oswald… I didn’t mean it, I don’t know what came over me…” 

He rested his head on Oswald’s shoulder as Oswald smiled and embraced him. It was just a dream. That was all. Oswald wouldn’t do that… He smiled as he realised the truth, and relaxed into Oswald’s touch.

“Hey, Ed?” He queried softly.

“Mmm?” Hummed Ed, closing his eyes.

“I have a riddle for you.”

The ending is left open for interpretation!

Halle Berry training for her role in John Wick 3 is pretty wonderful to watch! On point on all levels!

Thanks to our friends @tarantactical & @xtreme_props!