So what I'd like to tell you guys is that you should remember that this is an (a pretty dark btw) AU so there will be some things that won't really fit the normal character and that may seem out of place. That goes for you, Santana.

Also, I wanted to know if the whole The Shadow outfit is a bit confusing? If it is I could do something about it like showing you guys a design or describing it better.

Trigger warning for a bit of gore.

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You got some sleep after Brittany left. She made you feel at ease, and you relaxed while she was around. You wanted to jump around because you had kissed the lips you so eagerly wanted for basically a whole school year and now you had.

After thinking about the kiss for a while, you finally fell asleep. It was full of nightmares. You dreamt you were running through a forest and every once in a while, Bull's eye showed up in front of you. If it wasn't him, it'd be your father. The father who you thought had died when you were 9 years old.

You don't know what to do with all the new information.

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You wake up screaming, your whole body covered by a layer of sweat. You're not quite sure of what made you wake up like this, but you have an idea.

You get up slowly, feeling drained. Too much is happening at the same time, and it feels like a day doesn't have enough hours and there's too much in your head, and you instantly feel your heart rate pick up. You walk into the bathroom and try to calm yourself down while throwing cold water on your face. You hold yourself up with the help of the sink. After a while, you calm down.

You walk out of the bathroom and instantly fall into combat position when you see someone standing in the doorway of your bedroom. You hear a chuckle.

"It's just me" Says Harry.

You relax and let yourself fall back on your bed. You feel the bed dip beside you, and when he speaks up, his voice is much closer.

"I'm worried about you. I want to know what I can do to help you" He says, and you can tell he really is. He doesn't do this often, come over to talk to you. He never offers to help.

"You can call the school and tell them I've got cancer or something so I won't have to go there until I'm able to" You say, and look at him just in time to see him smile slightly.

"I will. Not cancer, though" He says. You chuckle.

"Not cancer" You agree.

"What else?"

"Nothing else. I really don't… I don't see how you could possibly help me".

"I know you don't. I know you have been preparing yourself to something like this. I know you wouldn't have to just deal with muggers for the rest of your life. But this is big, Santana. Too big". He speaks solemnly.

"I know. I just… It's personal. He knows Brittany. My f-… Harrison hired him, for god's sake! Do you even know what that means? He knows where I live".

"Trust me, I know my brother quite well. And I also know you are better than him. You just can't do it alone. You have this advantage against him. Use it".

You sigh deeply. He seems to realize this is a touchy subject, so he changes subject.

"Who's Brittany?" He asks. It's not in the teasing way a normal parent would say it. It's serious, questioning. It makes you realize how your relationships are dangerous.

"Just...A girl. From school" You tell him. You can tell he doesn't believe that's it, but he gets up either way, and leaves without another word.

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You have a plan. It's not the best, and it's risky, but you have a plan and you will follow it. You're preparing everything, being careful not to leave the house. You know the plan is predictable and obvious, but you're trusting your instincts and training.

There are so many things that could potentially go wrong , and you are risking so many people's lives. Every person who works in your house has left. The only people present are you and your uncle.

You hope everything goes according to plan.

You sigh as you give the punching bag another wrist-breaking punch. You knuckles are sore and your arms feel like they don't belong to your body. There's sweat trailing down your body.

Everything's silent apart from the sound of your fists hitting the punching bag and your grunts. You should probably have stopped about an hour ago but you're too stressed, too worried and too angry to give a flying fuck to your health right now.

You think about you father (Harrison, you tell yourself. He is not your father, never was), about all those years of fake safety you felt. You feel guilty and there's rage coursing through your veins. You think of Bull's eye, and of how he came in and destroyed every strip of hope you ever had. They're connected, they're a threat. You'd kill both of them if you had the chance.

You think about Brittany. It's a very mundane thought, very simple, but yet so big, and you know, deep down, it's not any of that. She's much more than any of that. You truly believe you have never felt so connected to someone in your life before. You need to protect her, to keep her close. She's so very important to you, you don't even understand how important she actually is.

You let your arms fall to the side of your body. You can't let her be hurt because of you. You're too dangerous.

Turning around, you start walking out of the hangar when you see a piece of paper lying on the floor. You feel dizzy for a second, before bending down and picking it up.

"Rootless child,

Hide and seek can be played by more than one person

I found you

Now you find me"

You recognize the name instantly. Bull's eye called you that yesterday. It gives you chills for some reason.

Then you recognize something else.

The paper.

You've seen it before. You can't quite remember where, but you're pretty sure you know where it's from.

Your eyes widen and your heart stops when you finally do.

It's ripped page from Brittany's notebook. You recognize the tiny ducks that surround the lines, the colors. You feel like falling to the floor. You feel like sobbing.

You run. You never ran so fast before. You start to put the outfit on when you see a box on top of the white shirts. You open it quickly, Artie's name quickly registering in your mind. Inside is an apparently common white T-shirt, but you don't question the boy. You put it on, and leave in a matter of seconds.

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The wind howls around you, and he roaring of the motorbike's engine rings in your ear. Your clothes slap against your body and you feel adrenaline and fear running through your veins, making you shake.

You arrive at her house, at the house you've been before, dressed just like you are right now, and it makes you feel a sense of betrayal on yourself, like you're sabotaging your own relationship.

You don't bother to pull up, literally jumping off of the motorcycle and running to her window. You can't hear anything, only the sound of your own heartbeat. There's a sound, then, and it makes you freeze and your blood boil, and you feel such an overwhelming fear it's almost incapacitating.

You walk slowly, afraid of the sight you may encounter, and in too much and yet too little time you're in her backyard.

The sight before you makes your heart clench and your eyes widen, your hands clench into fists and the muscles on your calf prepare themselves for sudden movement.

"Thought you'd never come" Says Bull's eye, and you can feel his smugness even if you can't see his expression. His eyes are the only thing visible in the mess that is the gauze wrapped around his head. They shine with a sort of madness you comprehend and recognize. You've seen it before.

"I wouldn't miss seeing your face for the world" You say, letting the sarcasm seep through your words. He doesn't seem to find it funny.

"I wouldn't make jokes when there's an innocent's life in the picture" He says, although you don't need a reminder that he's holding Brittany in a strong hold, his forearm pressed tightly around her neck and his right arm holding a gun, which is pressed against her temple. She seems to have given up fighting against him long ago, and the only form of protest is the tears that silently slide against her cheeks.

You feel so much anger, you don't quite know how you've managed to keep yourself from lounging against him.

"What's with the change of MO?" You ask, trying to keep him distracted while you map out your next moves.

"You cannot distract me, Rootless child" He says, and you chuckle. He is better than what you thought.

"So you're my father's puppet" You say, and can't help the way you spit the f-word "He seems to have a taste for the ones born in flames, doesn't him?"

You can see it. You can see that he seems to shake slightly, just a bit, and his right hand quivers, the gun wavering just a tad bit against the temple of the girl who occupies your thoughts.

"What happened, huh?" You ask him, and deep down, you mean it, too.

"I wouldn't play with fire, Rootless child" He says, and you hear the slight quiver in his voice. He takes off the safety of his gun, and his finger just started pushing the trigger.

Your right hand moves without you telling it too, and you grab a throwing knife, twisting your wrist and moving your whole body. It lands on his right hand, cutting though and getting stuck. He grunts, his handgun falling on the grass, and Brittany runs. He pulls her hair with his good hand, and she lets out a yelp of pain that makes your stomach clench.

You've already reached him, though, and with a quick twist of your body, you grab his arm, making him let go of her, and extend it. You look into his eyes as you let all the weight of your body land on your fist as it hits between the bones of his arm, on the elbow, and this time he actually yells, the pain being too much.

You just broke his arm.

"I wouldn't play with fire, faceless old man" You exclaim, almost jumping on the spot, fueled by adrenaline and some sort of maddening rage you don't quite understand.

You can't remember if The Shadow is supposed to know Brittany's name, so you turn around quickly and say "I would leave now, Blondie. This isn't going to be pretty". You don't wait for her to leave before looking at the source of so much anger.

He is standing in front of you, looking defeated, and it almost makes you stop. Almost.

You pull him by the collar, and he doesn't fight back in any way. You turn him around abruptly, holding the back of his head and hitting his head against the back fence. He doesn't let out any sound.

You let go of him, and he falls to the ground tough his eyes are still opened. You drop your body, landing over him. Your thighs press against his sides and you tower over him.

You're taking rapid breaths through your mouth, spit flying and sticking to the balaclava, and your chest rises constantly. You look at him with a disgusted look.

The first punch lands on his nose, and it starts bleeding. The second, on his eye. You stop aiming on the third, just punching away, the sound of your leather gloves hitting flesh being the only sound you can hear over the beating of your heart and blood rushing to your ears. He just takes the beating, and you know you've lost control.

You hadn't done that in a long time. It almost feels like you're just watching someone else do it, and even though it is pleasurable, you still feel disgusted. There's blood seeping through the bandages and you know his face must be swollen, and you feel like a monster. You swore you'd protect people without letting it get personal. If it did, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

A hand lands on your shoulder. You almost punch it away, but then you realize who it belongs to and you instantly stop.

You didn't mean for her to see this.

She can't be afraid of you, that isn't what you planned.

Yet when you turn around, you can see fear in her eyes. You can see she's so very scared of you, and disgusted by what you just did, and that is only another way of letting you know how much better than you Brittany is.

She pities the man who held a gun against her temple.

She stands towering over you, and there's some sort of weird significance in that. You throw yourself away from the limp body. You sit down, keeping distance from both other people.

You look down to see that the gloves are ripped in the knuckles, leaving them bare and covered in blood.

You must've used more strength than what you thought.

You three seem to not move for what feels like centuries. Brittany's between you and Bull's eye, standing there and looking at nothing at all. Bull's eye hasn't moved since he fell to the ground. You are still sitting down, your knees pulled up against your chest.

You hear shuffling, and your head snaps up just in time to see Bull's eye extending his arm and grabbing the handgun. You get up before your mind realizes it, and you're already running towards him. He fires.

You don't really know what happens next, but you feel something hit flesh. You also hear a pained scream coming from behind you. You don't look back.

He lets go of the gun.

"One bullet a day" He whispers. You look at him, trying to control yourself. You grab the gun.

It's pointed at him, just between his eyes. Your hands are shaking.

With a swift motion, you hit his head with it, applying just enough strength on the right place to make him pass out.

You turn around, not bothering to look at him again.

Brittany's on the ground.

Her eyes re barely opened.

There's blood pooling on her shirt.

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You know when people say that someone's meant for them? That there's someone out there who is waiting for you and all that?

You never believed that, and in that moment, you stopped believing in everything else, too.

Love. God. Angels, you name it. Anything good in the world stopped existing for you. There couldn't be something good in a world where Brittany bleeds. Not when there are tears running down her face. Not when she's about to die.

You feel numb.

"No… No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no" You mumble to yourself as you kneel beside her.

"Brittany? Love? Hold on okay? Please hold on. You're going to be okay" You try to soothe her, picking her limp body up carefully. You can't think properly.

You just stare at her, letting the tears fall down. Then you realize crying won't help. You won't help. So you look at her, who has now closed her eyes, at her chest rising and falling, and you start doing what you're supposed to do: You save her.

You pick up your disposable phone and call 911. It feels out of place, doing something so… common. You wait until you can hear sirens, which only takes a few minutes, before letting go of her body.

There seems to be a string tied around you and her, that keeps trying to pull you back to her, but you fight the urge and walk away, your heart clenching and your stomach churning. You've just turned around the corner when they arrive.