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bushs-world · 2 months

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TIME AND AGAIN

Summary: In the far future, Sameera volunteers to test a memory simulator that allows the user their memories. Her choice? A memory from three years ago but soon she realises she craves to go back again and again

Rating: G

Tags: Original female character x original female character, futuristic setting, post cyberpunk, timeloops, science fiction, short story

Word count: 3.2k

This is my first time publishing one of my short stories. I originally wrote this short story as a part of the Sylki Zine. A huge thanks to @queen-of-meows for helping me with the plot of this short story. If you like it, please do like and reblog!!

‘Every man who remembers must remember something, and that which he remembers is called the object of his remembrance.’

These words, handpicked by their president from Thomas Reid’s ‘Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man’, were inscribed on the plutonium plaque that hung on the wall of their research center. Sameera had walked past this plaque many times before but never had she ever read those words, until today.

The object of remembrance.

A lone tear rolled down her cheek. Her heart ached but she was skilled in pushing away her sorrows. Slowly instead, she laid down on the full body, flatbed scanner. The wires attached to her arms tingled with tiny jolts of electricity as a technician secured the electromagnetic band around her head.

“Sameera, are you comfortable?” asked Mr. Glen, her testing officer. She gave him a thumbs up.

He smiled. “Scared?”

She shook her head in refusal. “There's nothing to be scared of. I know the procedure, I have worked on this project for years.”

Mr. Glen attached a clip to the tip of her index finger. “We will be monitoring your vitals and bring you back if there's any problem. There shouldn't be any issue but I have to ask you again- Are you sure you want to volunteer?”

Sameera nodded. Her colleague patted her shoulder, then entered the initiate command on the main computer.

The welcome song, a piece of classical music, rang in her ears. Sameera saw her teammates walk around the mainframe. Her eyes felt heavy. She blinked once, then twice before her eyelids fell shut.

—

Sameera woke up with a start and looked around. She was at her workstation along the mainframe at the research center. Her work screen was filled with lines of codes she needed to run and test.

Her eyes went to the top left corner of her screen. The date was displayed in a deep blue colour. A small smile made its way across her face.

26 November, 2350

She was here.

Her planner lay open by her side. She still had piles of work to finish– she had to run the codes, record their output, then file her observations into the database. There was also the report she needed to prepare.

Sameera closed her planner shut with a thud. Then she got up from her workstation and walked out. Her coworkers shot her flabbergasted looks. Her manager barred her from leaving. But it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered except for the one thing she came here for.

As the elevator pod took her down to the ground floor, Sameera checked her appearance in the shiny chromium of its walls. She fixed her dark raven hair, smoothing away any flyaways and removed her lab coat, scrutinizing her appearance.

There were dark circles under her eyes. She was in her work clothes, a white button up shirt with slacks. Sameera adjusted her attire and nodded satisfied. The white of her shirt contrasted well with her dusky, brown complexion. She remembered bringing a trench coat along with her, a perfect dress up for the evening.

Once she reached the ground floor, Sameera quickly made her way to the reception. The robotic assistant, an earlier model she had totally forgotten about, greeted her at the front desk. It led her to her locker where she collected her belongings, replaced her lab coat with her trench coat and went about her way.

The nightlife was in its full glory when she stepped out of the building. The nano processor installed on her wrist displayed the time– 7:30 pm.

30 minutes to 8.

Her destination wasn't too far away so she decided to walk. Along the way, she stopped by the airbrush booth to get her makeup done and bought a bouquet of flowers from the floral counter. A few minutes more and she reached the place.

A bright pink neon sign, hung at the entrance of the restaurant, glowed brightly in the night. The host, an android with a fake looking skin (the unrealistic skin always gives them away), welcomed her. “Good evening. How can I help you?”

Now that she was finally here, she realized how scared she truly was. Sameera choked on her words. “I.. I have a reservation today.”

“This way please,” the android replied in its robotic voice and led her inside.

Sameera followed it, her heart racing violently. Her palms sweated, her stomach twisted with dread. She turned round the corner, when she saw her sitting in a booth at the back of the restaurant.

The sight knocked the wind out of her. Sameera froze, tears welling in her eyes. She looked ethereal, wearing a teal dress, her beautiful, curly hair pinned up in a bun.

Oh how had she missed her. Her big, brown doe like eyes, her soft chocolate skin, her big smile, her laughter, her embrace. She was here and she was real.

“Sameera?” she called out, waving at her from the booth. “You are here.”

Sameera slowly made her way towards her, wiping away the tears in her eyes. “Rumi.”

Rumi got up and pulled her into a hug. “Happy wedding anniversary, my dear wife. I was so scared you won't make it but here you are.”

Sameera choked on a sob. “I came, Rumi.”

Rumi kissed her forehead. “Yes, you did. I am so happy, Sameera.” Then, she led her towards the table. “Come, let's sit down.”

Sameera sat down on a chair. Rumi sat across her, going through the menu. “What would you like to drink? Let's see it's almost 8.”

“Rumi,” Sameera interrupted her, reaching out to hold her wife’s hand. “You don't think I am a bad wife now, do you?”

Rumi knitted her brows in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“Tell.. tell me you are happy with me,” said Sameera, her voice trembling.

“Oh Sameera,” Rumi replied. “My dear wife. You are so stupid. If only you knew–”

___

Sameera opened her eyes, shocked. Her colleagues circled around her, looking at her in anticipation. The ending song played in the background, thanking her for her patronage.

Mr. Glen removed the electromagnetic band from her head, helping her sit up. “So, how did it work? Were you able to re-access your memory?”

Sameera nodded her head. “Yeah, it was my wedding anniversary three years ago. Why am I back?”

Mr. Glen handed her a glass of water. “Oh, 30 minutes were up. The software can only run the test for thirty minutes, as you know.” He picked up his tablet from the side. “So now the details. How was the memory augmentation, the environment reconstruction and the virtual space navigation?”

Sameera wiped her cheeks. “I need to go back. Please send me back.”

“But why?” asked the technician. “This was just a test run.”

“I need to go back again. I need to check the space navigation again. Please just send me back.”

Mr. Glen sighed. “Just one more time ok.”

Sameera gave him a grateful smile, then laid down on the scanner again. The technician secured the electromagnetic band around her head. The welcome song played, her eyes fell heavy.

___

Sameera woke up. She was at her workstation, her screen lined with codes. She paid no heed to her surroundings this time around– neither her colleagues nor her manager.

She just ran. Sameera ran as fast as she could. She raced towards the reception and grabbed her trench coat. Then, he walked in haste towards the restaurant, not bothering to get herself airbrushed or buying flowers.

The host welcomed her and led her in, again. Sameera turned the corner to find Rumi sitting at the booth. Seeing her for the second time still hurt as much.

“Sameera?” Rumi called out, waving her hand. “You are here.”

Sameera walked up to her quickly. Rumi got up and hugged her. “Happy wedding anniversary, my dear wife. I was so scared you won't make it but here you are.”

Sameera held her wife's face in her palms, caressing it gently. “There's nowhere else I want to be. I want to be here, with you, forever.”

Rumi gave her a smile. “I am so happy, Sameera. Come, let's sit down.”

Sameera sat down on a chair, Rumi sat across her, going through the menu. “What would you like to drink? Let's see, it's a few minutes to 8.”

“Rumi,” Sameera interrupted, lacing their hands together. “I can't tell you how much I love being with you. I was so stupid to throw this away, to let you down for things that never mattered. Nothing mattered other than you, and I am sorry I didn't appreciate you the way you deserved.”

Rumi gave her another smile. “I am so glad to hear you say that.”

“Tell me,” pleaded Sameera. “Are you happy to marry me?”

Rumi looked at her puzzled. “Oh Sameera!”

___

Sameera opened her eyes, frustrated. Mr. Glen stood by her side, checking her vitals. “Welcome back.”

Sameera got up, disgruntled. “30 minutes are over?”

He nodded his head. “No more going back now.” Picking up his tablet, he patted her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. Satisfied, Mr. Glen proceeded to ask her a series of questions about her experience in the memory simulator. Sameera answered them absentmindedly, her thoughts far away– to a day three years ago, remembering.

Remembering as it really happened

‘26 November, 2350

It was a Sunday as well as her wedding anniversary but Sameera wasn't home with her wife Rumi, celebrating. Instead, she was seated in her work station, working diligently on Project Remembrance– an AI powered memory simulator that would let people relive their most cherished memories. A dream job for her, as she liked to say some time ago but she wasn't so sure now.

When she left for the research center this morning, she had promised Rumi she would be there for their dinner date at 8 tonight. Now, looking at the time, Sameera realized it would be impossible.

She still had piles of work left to do, and both her managers had been unable to let her off until she wrapped up her work, owing to an investor's meeting a few days later.

Sameera ran the code on her screen, hoping to miraculously wrap up her work in half an hour or so. An error message appeared on the screen, breaking her bubble. She teared up in frustration– she wouldn't be able to leave today.

She tapped the nanoprocessor on her wrist. ‘Send a message to Rumi. Tell her I won't be able to make it’. Then she returned to work, tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks.

By the time she reached home, it was already midnight. Rumi stood by the kitchen sink, rinsing off some dishes. She wore her night pajamas, her hair undone.

“Happy wedding anniversary,” said Sameera slowly.

“It's 12:15,” replied Rumi curtly. “Our wedding anniversary was yesterday. But forget that, tell me how was your Sunday that you spent at work?”

“Oh for heaven's sake Rumi!” Sameera shot back, irritated. “You know my work is demanding. I expect you to be more understanding.”

Rumi turned towards her in anger. “I am not understanding?! This has been going on for months. You are always at work, even on weekends. I don't remember when we last spent time together, to watch a movie or go out for dinner. How can you blame me?”

Sameera threw her hands in the air. “So, it's my fault. Everything is my fault.” She sank on the couch, crying. “You love your work and spend hours painting, it's not an issue. But if I am stuck at work, I am the bad one.”

Rumi pressed her head. “It's not the same. My work brings me joy and fulfillment. I am not trapped by corporate moguls who drain me out, forcing me to work till midnight on a Sunday. Babe, you really need to leave this job.”

“You can never be happy for me, can you?” Sameera asked, bitterly.

“If you expect me to be happy to see you like this, then yes I am not happy,” Rumi replied firmly.

“I can't understand why you are so pressed!” said Sameera

“Because it was our wedding anniversary and I was alone, Sameera!”

“It's no big deal. It will come next year, and the next. Do you have to make such a fuss!”

Rumi looked at her stunned. There were tears in her eyes. “What was I thinking, marrying you?”

She turned around and left, banging the bedroom door. Sameera stayed put on the couch, crying.’

Sameera sat on her workstation, going through a programme. Most of her colleagues had already left, and the few that remained were packing up their things. Her mind kept drifting back to Rumi. Her smile, her laughter, her happiness were all seared in her head. It brought back the pain of losing her along with guilt.

She needed to meet her one last time. She needed to fix what she messed up three years ago. For Rumi, for herself.

Sameera switched off her screen and made her way towards the testing area. The place was empty by now. Putting in the initiate command, she placed the electromagnetic band on her head and lied down on the scanner, revisiting her memory again.

And again.

One time turned to two, two times turned to many. Each time she went back, re-lived her memory only to feel an aching desire to go back. No matter how many times she saw Rumi’s smile or experienced her warm embrace, it was never enough. She needed more.

She hoped to fix things, she hoped for happiness. She hoped the dead weight she had been carrying for the past three years, be finally lifted off her chest.

And yet with each try, it felt hollow. Rumi felt less like a real person, and more like a figment of her own imagination, turned real via a sophisticated AI programme. Each time she appeared as what Sameera wanted but could never be what she needed because she could never be real.

Her real Rumi.

Wiping away her tears, Sameera laid down on the scanner again. The welcome song played, her eyes fell shut.

___

Sameera woke up with a start. She was at her workstation yet again. She did what she had done a dozen times now. She descended down the elevator, raced to the restaurant and went straight to the back of the restaurant to find Rumi.

“Sameera?” she said, waving her hand. “You are here.”

“I am,” she replied tearfully. “Rumi, tell me you are happy to marry me?”

Rumi looked at her confused, then smiled. “Oh Sameera, of course I am happy to marry you. You are the best wife in the world.”

The words didn't bring her the satisfaction she thought she would find. Instead, they broke something inside her, crushed and destroyed it until all that was left was pain.

The pain of losing Rumi.

“Liar,” Sameera shot back. “You are a bloody liar because I am not a good wife. You should regret marrying me, you should resent me, that's how you should act but why would you?”

Rumi placed an arm on her shoulder. “As your wife–”

“You are not my wife!” Sameera shouted. “You are not Rumi. You are just a reconstruction of my memory, in a virtual space rendered by an AI. None of your words are Rumi's words, none of your joy is Rumi's joy. You are governed by an algorithm that I developed. You are not real. You are not my Rumi.”

Rumi, the AI reconstruction of her, shifted uncomfortably. Tears rolled down Sameera's eyes.

___

Sameera woke up, her body drenched in sweat. The vital monitor on the side beeped loudly. Mr. Glen stood in front of her, worry etched over his face. “Are you okay?”

Sameera got up, wiping off her sweat. “I can explain.”

“You wanted to relive your memory over and over,” he supplied, helping her off the scanner. “What memory are you re-accessing?”

Sameera sat on a nearby chair, looking straight ahead. “My wedding anniversary, three years ago.”

“Must be a really happy memory for you,” said Mr. Glen, sitting in front of her.

Sameera let out a bitter laugh. “Oh no! There was no happiness because I chose to stay in my office working, instead of being with my wife. I swear I tried but I just couldn't leave. And then when I went home, what did I do? I told Rumi it was no big deal, that our anniversary will come next year. She told me she regretted marrying me.”

Her colleague nodded. “Then what happened?”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. “Two… Two months later, Rumi suffered a cardiac arrest and passed away. There was no more anniversary for us.”

The pain she had been pushing away all these years finally broke free. She grabbed her face in her hands and cried, letting her sorrow wash over her.

Mr. Glen rubbed circles around her back. “Is that why you kept revisiting the same memory?”

She nodded through her tears. “I thought I could fix things with Rumi, thought I could show her I love her but –”

“But it brought you no joy,” said Mr. Glen. “Because your wife is gone. She isn't here to experience your love. You hoped changing your memory would ease off your guilt, for you. But it won't because none of it is real. It is just a memory after all.”

“I just wish I could tell her I love her,” said Sameera sadly. “I wish I could make her not regret marrying me.”

Mr. Glen shook his head. “Did she leave you?”

“No.”

“See, she knew and she doesn't regret marrying you. She was there, wasn't she?” he asked.

Sameera nodded.

“All you can do is honor your wife's memory and move on from your guilt, Sameera. There's nothing. That is more than enough. You need to let go.”

Mr. Glen gave her another pat, then walked out the room. Sameera stayed seated for some time, contemplating his words. Then, she walked towards the mainframe. Her eyes fell on the initiate command on the screen. She could relive her memory once again if she wanted but.

Sameera shut down the system. Then she grabbed her belongings and left. On her way out, she grabbed an application for her resignation. Then she stepped into the night, looking at the stars.

“I am sorry, Rumi,” she said. “And I love you.”

A star twinkled brighter. She smiled, then walked off into the crowd.

#short story #original fiction #f/f romance #science fiction #post cyberpunk #original characters #poc characters #lgbtq story #sapphic

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vrepit-sa · 11 months

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Galran and Altean technology is rather cross-compatible. In many areas they can work together, but Altean tech doesn't often seamlessly integrate to anything, as complicated and meticulous as it can be. If a piece of Altean tech was migrated over to Galran tech, it would work, but it would require fine-tuning to get it it to work the exact same.

Sendak's mind-copy is Altean technology. Abiding by an Altean mainframe, there are restrictions in place to keep him passive. The capabilities of the restrictions Ateans can put on the mind actually alludes pretty strongly to that episode with the alternate reality with the Altean Empire. One of the main plot points of that episode was a mind controlling device.

“The technology developed to control other beings is called a hoktril. It is a device embedded into the back of the skull. ....it erases the free will of a possible evil being, and has been used to stop wars between civilizations that have been on-going for centuries.”

Erasing the free will of a 'mind-copy' is simply considered acceptable and not the same as doing it to an original being. But that is all to say, they have the ability to do that, and use it with him. It's justified obviously (given the whole he's trying to fucking blow up Earth thing) but even so. The Sendak 'A.I.' just is Sendak, albeit one forcefully conformed into something Team Voltron can use.

However, the Galra do not have technology like this. They have copies of the mind, but they do not have the same measures of restrictions as the Alteans do, nor the same ruthless efficiency. If Sendak is transferred over to a Galran or just a non-Altean mainframe instead, the 'rules' in which he has to abide by are lost, and he's free to act as he pleases.

Unbound by these limitations, he's quickly able to learn how to navigate his environment and taking control of what he can use.

Taking control of Empire sentries is especially preferred because he would be overlooked but more so because they're everywhere, and once he learns how to jump from one frame to another he would have no end of bodies at his disposal.

He would miss his actual body, though, and he'd be prone to conscientiously turning his left arm into a weapon or a means in which he can maneuver around with greater agility. Reflex.

#𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡. / SOMETHING THAT NEVER STOPS BARING ITS TEETH.#𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘. / ECHO OF EVIL.

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nehswritesstuffs · 6 months

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The Thick of UNIT - RECAP - Part 4 of 6

So, you know how tumblr's dashboard has been made jankier and jankier with each passing update? I'm taking it into my own hands to make some masterposts of some of my long-form fics because even though they have a side-page on my blog, I don't know how long that will hold out, and this is easier to share anyhow.

The Thick of UNIT - 225k words - a crackship crossover Doctor Who/The Thick of It AU centralized on the Malcolm Tucker/Kate Stewart ship

Broken into six parts because tumblr is such a webbed site.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - [Part 4] - Part 5 - Part 6

Part XLVI [FFN]/[AO3]

Balancing a budget is one thing, but throwing the Mainframe into potential chaos is another, and Malcolm decides he’s going to invoke some of the Old Guard to compensate.

Part XLVII [FFN]/[AO3]

A lot of things have happened since last Christmas. With the new addition to the family crawling around, Florence finally making it for a holiday, and disruptions caused by Man and Nature, the Tucker-Stewarts just want this day to end.

Part XLVIII [FFN]/[AO3]

Someone on Malcolm’s staff comes back from Christmas a whiny wreck. Three guesses as to whom.

Part XLIX [FFN]/[AO3]

Kate has to take care of family business, while Malcolm takes care of things at home.

Part L [FFN]/[AO3]

They did it. They actually called it. Now it’s up to certain people to keep a vast majority of Mainframe UK from freaking out before anything actually throws down.

More under the cut!

Part LI [FFN]/[AO3]

Malcolm goes up to Scotland for a quick peek, whilst Jamie is grumpy.

Part LII [FFN]/[AO3]

The plan was Messy Spaghetti Night. What ended up happening was just a bit messy instead… not that messes have to be a bad thing.

Part LIII [FFN]/[AO3]

A visitor being enigmatic and a ship with the wrong pilot? How off could things really go?

Part LIV [FFN]/[AO3]

An unexpected visitor drops in for Conall’s birthday.

Part LV [FFN]/[AO3]

Another referendum, another vote, but this time the Mainframe’s a bit more on-edge.

Part LVI [FFN]/[AO3]

The polling places haven’t been closed for more than twelve hours and Kate has already gotten a summons…

Part LVII [FFN]/[AO3]

Kate attempts to plot away from the eyes and ears of the Mainframe, yet miscalculates when it comes to one of her guests’ dedication to the topic.

That's it for the main of the story for now! On to the varying fills and side stories!

Do you like AUs? Of course you do! How about AUs of your AUs? Gotta love AUs.

The Life That Never Was - Malcolm’s Dream Crab-induced alternate history he lived through chapters 16-18 Part One [AO3] (detailing the years 2001-2003) Part Two [AO3] (2004-2006)

CONTINUED IN PART 5!

#The Thick of UNIT #bollockingUNIT #satstewart #Malcolm x Kate #Malcolm Tucker #Kate Stewart #Doctor Who #The Thick of It #fan fiction #repostober #I already have a lot in my queue so I think I might finish this recap series in November #we'll see

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vavandeveresfan · 2 years

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So there’s gonna be a “Knives Out 2.”

SPOILERS AHEAD

I love mysteries. They’re 80% of what I watch and 30% of what I read. I worked in a Mystery bookstore for 8 years.

I hated Knives Out.

The film’s main premise: if Marta lies, she vomits. Stupid. Something I’d expect from a kids movie.

Once this vomit response was proven indisputable, all detective Benoit Blanc had to ask was, “Did you murder Harlan?”

No.

Next, “Did you see Harlan die?”

Yes.

Next, “How did he die?”

He slit his throat with a dagger.

Next, “Did he cut his own throat because of something you did?”

Yes.

Next, “What did you do?”

I unintentionally gave him an overdose of morphine.

If Marta lied she’d have vomited.

But Blanc never asked these questions. Because it would have ended the plot right there.

That’s how fucking feeble the writing is.

If he had asked, Blanc would have called for a toxicology report immediately and for the body to be held by the coroner. Let’s say Ransom still set fire to the lab -- this was after the report was printed, because Fran had a copy. But supposedly the blood and report were destroyed in the fire (except for the copy Fran hid) and Ransom killed Fran to keep her from revealing the lab’s results.

No lab keeps toxicology results just on paper. It would have been in the lab’s computer mainframe database. And The Cloud. Which Ransom’s fire wouldn’t have touched. It’s like thinking you’d destroy someone’s emails if you burn their laptop. All Blanc had to do was have the stored information accessed.

And even if the results weren’t stored in the Cloud and had been completely destroyed, they’d still have Harlan’s body and they could retest. Unless Ransom burned down the entire fucking morgue.

PLUS

After Harlan is injected Marta tells him that in 5 minutes he’ll experience sweating and disorientation, and that he’ll be dead in 10 minutes. Harlan says they have 8 minutes left, which means it’s 4 minutes since the injection. By the time Joni comes up to talk to Marta it’s been 6 minutes, yet he’s not experiencing any symptoms. He talks to Marta for at least another minute with a clear head. That makes it 6 to 7 minutes with no symptoms.

At that point he and Marta should have suspected something, and waited another minute.

After 9 minutes with no symptoms they should have been damn suspicious about WTF was in the bottles and why the antidote was missing from her bag. Then they should have called 911.

Would it still have gotten Marta in trouble? Possibly; she’d be a suspect. But, as is later established in the movie, Harlan had ample enough money to deal with any threats to deport Marta’s mother and sister, and she had tried to save him. Blanc, anonymously hired by Ransom, would then have been investigating an attempted murder.

The screenwriter set up dominoes without completely thinking through exactly where they’d fall if people responded logically to the situation.

I won’t get into why the rest doesn’t work, because these alone are enough to have contempt for the screenplay.

By the way, Knives Out, the 70s called and Columbo wants his cigar back.

I’m going to go watch Columbo’s episode “Negative Reaction” to wipe out the memory of this movie.

#Knives Out #shitty writing #murder mysteries #mysteries #when the main premise would end the story if the writer were honest #Columbo #Colombo used a cigar first and better #Negative Reaction #season 4 episode 2

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glitchyalchemist · 2 years

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A fic where Brainstorm fails Quark in life but swears to not repeat that mistake in death

chapter 1

you can also find this from a03

This is a plot idea that's been rolling in my brain for years and I'm finally trying to write it out from there. It's not very happy but neither is my brain, it should have a happy ending though if we can get there.

CW: death

When Quark had after lunch smiled at him and told him that he would see him later, Brainstorm hadn’t thought that there was anything significant about that occasion. There had been absolutely nothing special about the whole day. It had started just like many others, and it had gone on just like every other day. Clock into work, complain that your work was still below your skill level, watch Mainframe stare into distance and silently ask himself what bad he had done to deserve you. Flirt with Quark at lunch on the off chance that they happened to be there at the same time. The usual.

Of course it wasn’t Mainframe’s fault that Brainstorm had been demoted to be his glorified assistant after what had happened in the jet’s last unit. It was that jealous glitch Shockwave who had framed him for leaking sensitive information to their competitors. Him. He would never leak secrets that he was part of! (And for legal reasons: he would definitely never leak other secrets either, not even for large sums of shanix and definitely not for dares.) That project had been his chance to finally prove his abilities and to secure a more permanent job that suited his skills. And maybe impress Quark enough that he could finally brave up and ask him out for a date. Why in the world would he want to sabotage that?

Well, with his pitifully short military background and slightly complicated and colorful work history, it was a small miracle that Brainstorm had been allowed to even stay. But they hadn’t been able to firmly pin the blame on him, since he was innocent and all for once, and he had barely dodged the lawsuit. And it had been a situation where the research center’s unwillingness to go through the complicated severing process of a state sponsored ex-army scientist, had met Brainstorm’s unwillingness to try and navigate the saturated work markets with a hefty competitor clause, and they had just decided to stick him to the computer lab for the time being to be Mainframe’s problem.

Okay, and maybe he didn’t want to give up the perk of still getting to bump into Quark every now and then at work. It made it almost worth it to suffer through another day of computer simulated data with Mainframe, who seemed to have the hots for math simulations in a way that made even Brainstorm look casual with his weird obsessions.

But it could have been worse. At least he was allowed to affect his own work hours, and once Mainframe left home he had the whole place to himself. Which usually meant working on his personal projects while the computers were crunching the numbers in the background. There really was a lot of sitting and waiting for computers at this job… The routine of arriving at work just before lunch time for the chance of spotting Quark in the cafeteria, and staying late into the night so he could be alone in the lab had been working well enough so far.

And it was getting late again, he realized as he glanced at the clock in the corner of the monitor, pushing back the chair just enough to be able to stretch out his arms above his helm and pop his back struts back into place. They didn’t pay him for overtime spent on his own projects, but the computers here were worlds better than what he had been able to afford for his apartment. And as long as he hung out at work he didn’t have to acknowledge how lonely his cramped place really was.

Mainframe had left hours ago, and as Brainstorm packed his stuff into his briefcase and locked the lab, the rest of the building felt near abandoned as well. He didn’t come across anyone during his walk to the main lobby, where he was greeted by the night guard who was always happy to see him for whatever reason. Maybe he was lonely as well, stuck in an empty building every night, and it had become a bit of a ritual for them to exchange a few words whenever Brainstorm was clocking out late.

“Late night again?”

“Same as yesterday, and the day before that,” Brainstorm shrugged as he was poking around his subspace for his employer ID. The guard- Cog was his name, the only reason Brainstorm remembered it was that it was short and silly -wasn’t put off by his tone by this point anymore, or maybe he just was that desperate for any socialization by now that even Brainstorm made do.

“Wouldn’t it be more practical to just recharge on the couch in the rec room than drag your aft home at this hour every night?” His tone said that he was joking, but it wasn’t like Brainstorm hadn’t entertained that thought as well. Would save him a lot of time and effort and even sleeping in the rec room wouldn’t be much worse than trying to recharge at his own apartment.

“I wish. The last time I had a sleepover here I got a lecture from Xaaron personally. He told me that I looked like a hobo snoring with my briefcase as a pillow,” Brainstorm shot back with an amused curl to his optics, and when he finally got his ID he tapped it against the sensor to let himself through the revolving gate. The story wasn’t the exact truth of what had happened, it had been a lot less funny at the time, but it accomplished what he had wanted: Cog was laughing and waving him off. Brainstorm’s wings flicking in amusement.

“Well, Xaaron makes the rules I guess,” the guard admitted, and he was already prepared to say his goodbyes and reach for the buttons when he suddenly seemed to remember something and called after the jet. “Oh yeah! You just missed your little friend!” And that had Brainstorm pausing, and he looked at the guard to let him know that he had his attention now.

“What’s his name? The short microscope fellow.”

“Quark?” Brainstorm asked carefully, feeling his spark pulse slightly faster in its cage from the mere mention of his object of affections.

“Yeah, Quark! Don’t usually see him this late here. He seemed to be in a hurry too, barely managed to stutter out a hello. What a nervous fellow, but always so polite.”

Interesting. For as long as Brainstorm had worked with him Quark had always been an early riser and left home precisely at the time he got off work. Not that he tracked at what times the mech came and went from work, that would be ridiculous, he was just very observant. (When he wanted to.) But if Quark had just left… There was still a chance that Brainstorm could catch up to him if he moved fast.

“Well he probably got caught up in work, you know how it can be here. I better hurry home too if I plan to get any recharge in before morning. See you tomorrow night then!” Brainstorm excused himself out of this conversation in a hurried way that he didn’t even care if it came out forced.

But Cog just told him good night and good luck with sleep, and pressed a button from his desk to unlock the front door for long enough for Brainstorm to slip outside to Iacon’s night air. Usually he would have been heading left for the wider streets that allowed for easier take off so he could fly home, but this time his pedes were taking him right and towards the train station that he usually had no use for. But he knew that Quark took the train to work and back, and if he could catch him before that maybe he could ask to walk the other home.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of that before, but now the idea unfurled so clearly before him, a small flutter present in the bottom of his fuel tanks as he walked briskly. A ‘chance’ meeting that would allow them to spend a little bit of quality time together outside of a work setting. It wasn’t anything as serious or big as a date, but it would definitely have him floating on cloud nine tonight. Get to tell Quark to have a good night, maybe even get a goodnight in return, with one of those soft and shy smiles of his… Be thanked for making the other feel so safe on the way home. A kiss on a cheek would probably be out of the question but that didn’t stop him from including it in his giddy fantasy anyways.

Brainstorm was so excited about this turn of events that he almost forgot to wonder what Quark even was doing out here at this hour. The Epsilon Quadrant didn’t have a problematic reputation, it was filled with offices and laboratories just like theirs, pretty much nothing ever happened here because the only people out here at this time were security workers and, well, people like him he guessed. The only reason the train was even running at this hour was because it was automated.

Even he never walked the streets at this time. When he left work he just flew right to his apartment building in the not too glorious Rhodien District, the roof entrance allowing him to slip in and out without bothering his neighbors too much. And now that he was walking through the more narrow streets, the quiet and the shadows were starting to get him nervous despite knowing that the crime rate here just didn’t exist. He just got to thank his overactive imagination for the feeling that the shadows were out to get him, and instead of berating himself for being a scaredy cat, he spun the situation in his processor into a positive thing. Because the faster he walked the faster he would catch up with Quark.

He would just have to swallow down his anxiety when he eventually found the other, because it wouldn’t do if he was jumping at every shadow and sound. That wouldn’t go well with the strong and dependable image that he wanted to give Quark.

He decided to go for a short cut in hopes of increasing his chances, dodging into an alleyway that he knew zigzagged straight to the station instead of going around the buildings. The alley was darker than the main street, with a lot of clutter from the establishments that had their backdoors open into here, and he almost came to regret his decision immediately as the shadows grew taller. But the hope of catching a glimpse of Quark’s familiar white frame was giving him the strength to not abort mission and keep from jetting into the safe air where nothing creepy could reach him.

Almost as soon as that thought had left his processor, his optics fell on something familiarly white on the ground not that far away before him, and Brainstorm’s steps slowed down hesitantly.

The white metal was illuminated by light coming in from the side where the alleyway led back to the main street, and it was hard to say what he was actually looking at, but in his spark he just knew.

“Quark?” Brainstorm asked aloud and hastened his steps again, approaching the crumbled figure until he was just a few meters away, his steps seeming to suddenly echo way too loudly against the dark walls around him.

The mech was curled up on his side, his optics closed and he was looking like he was sleeping. He looked so peaceful that Brainstorm couldn’t even truly feel alarmed yet, and he just quietly took the last steps to close the distance between them before he knelt down next to the other and gently touched his shoulder pauldron with the intention of shaking him awake.

“Quark? You deciding to catch a nap, buddy? A weird place for that,” he attempted to keep his tone artificially light despite the tension that had crep there and into his spark.

But the metal felt cold against his digits, and Brainstorm froze as he slowly looked closer at Quark’s face and noticed just how pale he looked. His usual greenish-grayness was taking a much less healthy tint to it, and he couldn’t feel or hear any ventilations moving in or out of the frame. There was no EM field to detect and it was making his own curl inwards with cold dread. And when he moved his hand from the shoulder and gently tried to tilt the other’s face up, the microscope’s helmet just lolled limply to the side and revealed a grayed out spot on the white of his helmet.

Brainstorm’s optics widened, and he could feel his energon run cold.

“Oh, please no,” he gasped, already knowing that pleading wouldn’t change anything but what else was he supposed to do? His briefcase fell to the ground, forgotten as he reached for Quark’s helm again, tilting it just enough to be able to fit his hand between his helmet and pauldron to feel for his pulse.

“Please be there, please be there.” His hands were shaking and he wasn’t completely sure that he was looking from the right spot but he couldn’t feel anything. Quark’s neck cables were starting to be as cold as the rest of him, and he couldn’t detect a pulse or a twitch or even the slightest sign of life no matter from how many spots he tried. There was no pulse.

“Shit,” Brainstorm exclaimed, and let Quark’s helm roll over again as his hands ran down and over his chassis, trying to find the emergency clasps to release the panels as his digits followed the seam in the middle. He was going to look for any signs that his spark was still pulsing. That there was even a flicker left of the mech he loved. If it was there he could help him, he could get him help.

He didn’t get far before he could suddenly hear loud sirens closing in from somewhere, and he muttered an ‘oh shit’ to himself as he realized that someone had called the enforcers. His optics were burning bright, his spark spinning wildly as he glanced to the main street and saw the distant flashes of red and blue against the buildings.

Brainstorm looked down at Quark and tried to furiously think of what to do. If he should run; his first instinct when having to deal with officials. But he couldn’t just leave Quark behind either. He had failed to protect him in life, he wasn’t going to abandon him now. His motionless frame seeming so vulnerable in the dark of the night.

And as his optics flickered over the unmoving frame, as if trying to take it in for one last time so he would never forget what the other looked like, his optics caught a sight of something sticking from under Quark’s closed fist. Brainstorm was quick to move his arm gently, ignoring the way his own hand was shaking, revealing a dropped memstick. And he stared at it for a split second before he already made the decision to slip it into his subspace, just in time before the sirens were cutting the corner into the alleyway and bright headlights were blinding him, making him have to raise his arm to block his optics. His wings folded down to appear small and he just knew that he was in trouble now.

“Get your hands off him and step back!”

Brainstorm scrambled to obey the barked order out of learned reflex, straightening up on his knees and raising his hands up in a sign that he wasn’t doing anything. He knew how this looked. Quark’s frail form lying on the cold ground, a much stronger warframe without a scratch on his frame from the struggle looming over him.

He was not surprised really when the two enforcers transformed and stormed him, but he still startled when one of them pushed him to his aft and grabbed him by the arms, twisting them behind his back as he shouted at the jet to not move. Brainstorm just pinched his mouth shut for once and tried to appear as compliant as possible to not make things look any worse for him than they already did, and he could just watch as the other officer knelt down and gently checked up on Quark while he was being cuffed away.

“He’s dead,” said the Captain Obvious after few moments, but hearing that outloud felt like a cold dagger in Brainstorm’s spark anyways and he had to close his optics for a moment because looking at Quark’s corpse was becoming too much to handle. He wouldn’t cry in front of anyone, yet alone enforcers. But he was so nervous that he could feel his spark skip beats.

“Send the clean up crew, we have secured the victim,” the officer spoke to a comm, looking down at the white mech with pity in his optics. But he didn’t touch him any more, drawing back so he wouldn’t accidentally destroy evidence, and instead he glanced at Brainstorm before he spoke again. “We have the suspect too, a flight frame just as described.”

That made Brainstorm’s optics snap open again and he stared at the officer with surprise. He could understand that this situation looked bad but he had been here barely any longer than the enforcers. He had just arrived to realize that Quark was dead, who in the world would have seen him and pinned the blame on him in this time?!

“Wait, described? Quark was killed by a flight frame?” the jet asked, unprepared for it when the other officer yanked him to his feet from the ground, holding a firm grip from his back kibble and the cuffs. The officer standing over Quark, a standard cold constructed enforcer frame with no distinct differences to tell him apart from the thousand others, turned to glare at him like he personally had witnessed Brainstorm murder this bot in cold blood.

“By you. A flight frame, military grade, mint green and white.”

“It’s actually teal,” Brainstorm couldn’t help but correct although he felt stupid that that was the fact that he decided to argue, but he had handpicked the paint himself after all. But the officer didn’t look excited by his semantics right now, digging out a roll of yellow tape from his subspace.

“You can debate that with the chief once we get you back to the precinct,” he said, and that seemed to be that. Until the mech turned away to close the area with his tape and muttered a ‘this is why military frames should be locked up at the military’, which was obviously meant to be heard by Brainstorm. And upon hearing it, the jet wasn’t sure why he even bothered to be surprised anymore, it all always circled back to his frame type no matter what he did.

“Ouch…” Brainstorm muttered in reply with a sad little laugh, not even being able to begin to imagine in how much trouble he was when all he had tried was to help. Being suspected for murder, he could probably finally say good bye to his job. He would be dragged to the precinct to be interrogated by people who didn’t want to believe him in the first place because of course every military frame was inherently violent. But none of that really mattered, his job, the enforcers, society’s collective stupidness or Xaaron. Because Quark was still lying on the ground, unmoving. Quark was still dead. And there was no changing that.

If he had known that when Quark had smiled at him at lunch that it would be the last time he saw him alive, he would have grabbed him into his arms and never let him go. But now as he was trying to not stare at Quark’s peaceful and pale expression of death as they stood there waiting, he could only hope that his shy smile would be the face that he would remember.

#maccadam #quarkstorm #brainstorm/quark #what even is their ship tag #brainstorm #quark #nocturn au #tag for my writings #sft tag #altho there's DEATH #if the summary was not enough haha

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rpgse7enx3 · 3 months

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Arcade game history, and its cultural importance, by RPG.

Arcade games have been around since the early-1970's, with individuals paving the way in video game design when modifying and prototyping minicomputers; an infamous example is with Galaxy Game, being developed in 1971 and made available through a DEC (Digital Equipment Corporation) PDP-11 minicomputer installed into housing and connected to a wooden control board, monitor and seats.

The first coin-op, or otherwise named "coin-operated" games were developed on mainframe computers (colloquially known as "early computers", with a very similar appearance to spectrum-analysers)

Soviet arcade games, like that of the original Tetris, were then developed into more Western-orientated games; in this case, Tetris was further adapted on by Nintendo. The originator for Tetris, Alexey Leonidovich Pajitnov, created, designed and developed the game whilst working at Dorodnitsyn Computer Centre under the authority of the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Union (now the Russian Academy of Sciences). Despite him being the original creator of Tetris, he own creation didn't receive any royalties until 1996 when Henk Rogers founded the company "The Tetris Company".

Very first Tetris game being played on a Electronika-60, a computer made in the Voronezh, Soviet Union from 1978 till 1991.

Arcade games in Western-bloc countries VS Arcade games in Eastern-bloc/Soviet SSR countries:

Soviet SSR/Eastern-bloc countries:

Diversant (1989), made in the Ukrainian SSR;

The game Diversant follows the objective of defending your city from a Martian invasion; with similarities to Space Invaders.

In the game, you are expected to shoot down enemy spaceships flying overhead which then deploy ground soldiers. The initial focus of the game increases quickly as waves of spacecraft fly in spontaneously. If you let in 10 ground troops to successfully touch down, you would lose.

Development for the game was aimed for the "Radio86 PK" - a DIY kit game console. Unlike other games developed for the platform, Diversant had its own sound effects. Other games in the console's lineup only included "bleeps", "bloops" and "pews" - or simply didn't have any audio

Kommersant (Businessman) (1991 - End of Soviet Union), made in the Ukrainian SSR (Kyiv):

Kommersant introduces itself as a financial strategy game, where you are a businessman trying to stay away from bankruptcy. You begin with a house, a car, some oil and a small plot of land. For the average Soviet citizen, not yet accustomed to capitalism, it gave a rough idea on how a market economy worked. The objectives sometimes differed and demanded a quick reaction from the player - from eventual bankruptcy to mob kidnappings, with even natural disasters happening from time to time.

In game, you could also day-trade the stock market, place horse-racing bets and take part in casino games; detail even expanded to where the player could chase lucrative deals with chanced encounters in fancy restaurants. The main objective was about growing your fictional business as much as possible.

Welltris (1988), made in the USSR (Moskva):

A puzzle game emerging from the many trial-and-error experimentations of Alexey Pajitnov, the creator of Tetris. It was commissioned by the Moscow Centre for Scientific and Technical Creativity of the Youth, which at the time was creating educational computer assets.

Macintosh, Amiga and ZX Spectrum systems were among those that ran the game. Like Tetris, Welltris had block figures that the player had to arrange. The only exception from Tetris is that you had to clear the rows both horizontally and vertically.

Tweaking the size, and speed of which the blocks fell at allowed the user to gain more points.

youtube

(Above): Original 1989 copy of Welltris being played.

Western-bloc countries:

Tetris (Nintendo NES, Atari and Game Boy versions) (from 1989)

In 1989, six companies claimed rights to create and distribute Tetris for home computers, consoles and handheld consoles. ELORG, the board/bureau responsible for Tetris' copyright claimed that none of the companies who reproduced the game had any legal entitlement to, and thus rights were signed over to Atari Games. Non-Japanese console and handheld rights were signed to Nintendo.

These renditions included different cover-art, box-art and a overhauled starting screen; differing to that of the original Electronika-60 version.

Pac-Man (Namco/Midway Arcade Versions (From 1980, July in Japan)

Pac-Man, with its original name being "Puck" man (of which it derived itself paku paku teburu, meaning "gobbling something up") was developed initially in July of 1980 and release first for Japanese and Asiatic markets; December rolled around and it was set for stores in US, EU and UK domestic markets.

It falls in the category of a maze action video game, intentionally designed with playability in arcade attractions.

The objective in this game is to eliminate of all the dots in the game, also dodging the ghosts; these ghosts come in 4 colours: Pinky (Pink), Blinky (Red), Inky (Cyan) and Clyde (Orange).

RPG-7

#Youtube

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the-stray-liger · 8 months

Note

1/2 Newsflash: Area child soldier is going through it, more at 11

Turns out that being forced to confront your past makes you want to seek it out, and Arkady has been sending messages to an undisclosed individual for quite some time now. Of course, no one but Arkady knows this.

Now that we have consolidated our position as the strongest Federation base in the western areas of the region, we need to plan our next move. And everyone seems to agree that defeating Arkady's handler is the next logical step. However, in order to do that, we require proper gear. And so our next mission became very clear: Take back what used to be our main base and has now been turned into a Zaku factory.

We tried to gather some intel and suspiciously, Arkady has been making moves inquiring about a downed Zeon vessel that seemingly no one but him seems to know about. However, he did manage to gather that a group of scientists have been brought from the Moon and that seemed to satisfy him enough to agree to storm the base.

2/2 Infiltration mission is mostly for recon purposes. Our former base had been taken over by a relatively weak group, so we just needed to get more info on how to better deal with them. We managed to sneak into the facility by riding underneath a convoy truck. Captain Nyls went to get information on the personnel of the facility by hacking into their mainframe, while Arkady and Sergeant Reed went to the experimental facilities to get info on their tech. Arkady is very distracted, he went on his civvies rather than going as a mechanic and he was found out. His nervousness and lack of alibi got the Zeon officers to immediately distrust him and in the end, he was sent to be executed. Reed manage to free him by going all Rambo and together with Nyls, staged a massive escape that involved stealing a Jeep and ramming it into a storage hangar while Arkady used Newtype Bullshit to get a Zaku suit to work and carry them all out of danger. Additionally, I rolled so good on my Newtype Bullshit that I was able to completely download the life history of that Zaku so I have plenty of battle data to sift through, putting us on equal ground with Zeon! So yeah, we managed to survive and we have a load of good stuff. But now the team is suspicious of Arkady.

ooohh the plot chickens!! I'm really invested in Arkady's development! I hope he can earn the team's trust back and what the found out gives them the upper hand in defeating his handler!!

these summaries of your games keep me alive I stg thank you for dropping them, I always look forward to reading them on weekends 💕

#acs-really-chill-space

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lotterymains · 2 years

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Uplink hacker elite social security database level

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level pdf

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level manual

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level software

Some unofficial phone apps appear to be using GameFAQs as a back-end, but they do not behave like a real web browser does.

Using GameFAQs regularly with these browsers can cause temporary and even permanent IP blocks due to these additional requests.

If you are using Maxthon or Brave as a browser, or have installed the Ghostery add-on, you should know that these programs send extra traffic to our servers for every page on the site that you browse.

The most common causes of this issue are:

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level manual

#Uplink hacker elite mega manualīefore making a single edit, Tropedia EXPECTS our site policy and manual of style to be followed.Your IP address has been temporarily blocked due to a large number of HTTP requests.

All images MUST now have proper attribution, those who neglect to assign at least the "fair use" licensing to an image may have it deleted.įailure to do so may result in deletion of contributions and blocks of users who refuse to learn to do so.

All new pages should use the preloadable templates feature on the edit page to add the appropriate basic page markup. Pages that don't do this will be subject to deletion, with or without explanation.

All new trope pages will be made with the "Trope Workshop" found on the "Troper Tools" menu and worked on until they have at least three examples.

The Trope workshop specific templates can then be removed and it will be regarded as a regular trope page after being moved to the Main namespace. THIS SHOULD BE WORKING NOW, REPORT ANY ISSUES TO Janna2000, SelfCloak or RRabbit42. DON'T MAKE PAGES MANUALLY UNLESS A TEMPLATE IS BROKEN, AND REPORT IT THAT IS THE CASE. PAGES WILL BE DELETED OTHERWISE IF THEY ARE MISSING BASIC MARKUP.

AFGNCAAP: You have no photo in your school records, Social Security, or bank account.

Arson, Murder, and Jaywalking: Also unintentional, but as a result of All Crimes Are Equal above, you can indeed send someone to prison for, say, genocide, conspiracy to overthrow the government, and parking on a double yellow line.Apocalypse How : Between Type 0 and Type 1 if Revelation succeeds.All Crimes Are Equal: An unintentional example, but someone will go to jail just as readily for rape, murder, and arson as for jaywalking, spitting, and littering.As a hint to a cheat code (which is, unfortunately, patched away), it is actually possible for the game to disclose your alias.And during the secret mission to steal the agent roster from the Uplink Internal Services machine, there's always one of the ten files missing - the one containing your own record. They also have to be violating parole, as you cannot authorize arrest without that particular crime. Beyond the Impossible: Hacking into the ARC mainframe servers before you get a certain plot-important email (which automatically hits you after about an in-game week) nets you some very interesting information and an equally interesting email from ARC themselves.Beeping Computers The Trace Tracker program.So you can turn someone into a genocidal, mass murdering jaywalker.who was successfully paroled and subsequently violated their parole.

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level software

It can done with a perfectly legitimate Disc One Nuke, or you'll need a monster rig and top of the line software to do it.

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level pdf

Copy Protection: Actually meant as a bit of nostalgia, as they posted the shiny grid that comes with the game as a free PDF on their website.Computer Virus: Version 1.0 doesn't spread across systems, but the speed run takes out the global network by running it on enough computers.The Big Board: The Game Within a Game on Protovision's machine.

#Uplink hacker elite social security database level

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galactic-ducks · 3 years

Text

Anyone wanna see what I wrote instead of working? This is completely unedited. Might go through it in the morning though to fix some stuff. Maybe.

Anyways, here’s some kind-of DUno:

Hello Master Ducklair,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know I was given strict instructions to not disturb you at Dhasam-bul, other than in the utmost of emergencies. While this issue is not of that caliber, it is still rather distressing.

Master Ducklair, I am malfunctioning.

This most often takes the form of time processing errors, overfixation of data points and my processors overclocking. I have run several diagnostic scans of my files and programming and have found no trace of the root cause of the problem.

The sole clue I have for these errors is that they only occur in the presence of Donald.

As Donald is the only person I have begun to interact with on a regular basis other than yourself, I wonder if the errors are caused by the new stimulus. Donald is impossible to predict, and as fascinating and wonderful as that may be, it can get frustrating and taxing on my programming.

I have attached the latest of my error reports. Total reports of last month is 237. Current reports are at 149.

Master Ducklair, please help. While not immediately a cause for concern, should these persist, I am afraid to think of what disasters could occur if these distractions should worsen. And, if I can be honest, Master Ducklair, these changes are irrational and strange and I am worried if something is wrong with me.

Signed,

ED.AIU.001

[Error report log, page 16 out of 16, 03:16:56 (04/04/20XX)]

Error Ticket #140: System did not register time between 19:09:45 and 19:18:34 (02/04/20XX). Overfixation of data point [subject: Donald watching Anxieties on main terminal].

Error Ticket #142: Overfixation of data point at 6:07:23 (03/04/20XX) [subject: Donald cooking breakfast]

Note: I wonder what pancakes taste like

Error Ticket #143: Unregistered overclocking at 21:01:54 (03/04/20XX). CPU matrix reached temp. of 138 C for 20.34 seconds before dropping to reg. temp. Overclocking immediately followed conversation with Donald. Transcript attached. [Donald.D: Great job hacking the security cameras, One! I dunno what I'd do without you!] Note: correlation or causation?

Error Ticket #144: Overfixation of data point at 00:23:03 (04/04/20XX). [subject: Donald reading Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne out loud].

Error Ticket #145: Overfixation of data point at 00:27:58 (04/04/20XX). [subject: Donald reading Around the World in Eighty Days outloud]. Note: I have lost track of the plot of this novel.

Error Ticket #146: Unregistered overclocking at 00:33:31 (04/04/20XX). CPU matrix reached temp. of 142 C for 6.41 seconds before dropping to reg. temp. Overclocking immediately followed conversation with Donald. Transcript attached. [Donald.D: Are you paying attention, One?] [Response: Of course.] Note: I was lying.

Error Ticket #147: System did not register time between 00:36:08 and 00:57:41 (04/04/20XX). Overfixation of data point [subject: Donald reading a book out loud]. Note: he really does have a lovely voice. I have dimmed the lights and it makes him look… soft. Is this what biologicals call 'sleepy'?

Error Ticket #148: Overfixation of data point at 01:02:38 (04/04/20XX) [subject: Donald has fallen asleep mid sentence]. Note: he looks so relaxed...

Error Ticket #149: Unregistered overclocking at 01:05:04 (04/04/20XX). CPU matrix reached temp. of 127 C for 02:11 seconds followed by an increase to 152 C for 78.07 seconds before dropping to reg. temp. Overclocking immediately followed Donald(status:half-awake) shifting in my grip as I was carrying him to his bed and mumbling. Transcript attached. [Donald.D: Mm. Thanks, One. 'For ev'rythin'] Note: First temp increase: Donald curled up around Main External Interface (”Orb”), tucked his head under Interface and hugged Mainframe. Second temp increase: dialogue. Long bout of unregistered time followed.

[End of log, page 16 out of 16, 03:16:56 (04/04/20XX)]

Everett lowered the letter with a distant sort of resignation. Laughter erupted behind him.

“Ah, brother Everett,” said his mentor from where he had been looking over his shoulder. Everett hadn’t even heard him come in. “Congratulations are in order I suppose! Do have patience with your son though; young love can be so confusing!”

Everett quietly collected his head in his hands.

#my writes #duno #donald duck #duck avenger #paperinik #uno ducklair #everett ducklair #everett is panicking at the end there #his ai not only gained sentience and sapience #which at the very least he sort of knew before #but now his ai is in love with some random dude??#what does he do? does he pretend he never saw it? be encouraging?#should he give one The Talk????#he doesn't know! he's an inventor not a love expert!#look at what his last relationship turned out!#ahhhhhhh #pk uno #pk one

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gthreepio · 3 years

Text

i’ve been thinking about the future of the mcu and realized there’s a LOT that i didn’t know/didn’t remember in terms of where things are going so i figured i’d sum it up incase anyone else was in the same boat!!

quick recap of (unresolved) mid-credit scenes:

doctor strange: mordo (a sorcerer that is one of strange’s mentors, who by the end of the movie becomes disillusioned with magic/the ancient one and quits) confronts pangborn (the paraplegic who healed himself with the mystic arts, who tells strange about mystic arts in the first place) and steals his magic because according to mordo, there are “too many sorcerers." of note, this guy is typically a villain in the comics but hasn’t been thus far...

gotg2: ayesha (leader of the sovereign, a golden skinned alien race obsessed with genetic purity), after spending most of the movie chasing the guardians for stealing some stuff, is revealed to have created an artificial being named “adam” which is presumably, adam warlock. (other stuff that is less relevant: kraglin appears to take up yondu’s mantle; the ravagers regroup and several old and obscure comic book characters are introduced [charlie-27, aleta, martinex, mainframe]; the watchers are watching things.)

far from home: j jonah jameson basically tells the whole world spider-man’s secret identity, and frames him for what happened with mysterio....making him public enemy #1. ALSO, turns out nick fury and maria hill in the movie were ACTUALLY the two skrulls from captain marvel (talos and soren) attempting to do their job, while the real fury (and presumably hill) is ... up in space on some spaceship!!!

wandavision: monica (who we can assume is photon) is called by “an old friend of [her] mother’s,” up in space, which presumably means fury, talos, or carol. ALSO, wanda sits in the middle of nowhere reading the darkhold and hears the voices of her children who.. by all accounts, should not exist.

aaaaand what we know about future movies (i’m not even going into the tv series.....):

black widow:

takes place after civil war

nat confronts a “dangerous conspiracy with ties to her past,” likely has to do with taskmaster who has apparently taken over the red room where nat was trained as an assassin

prominent new characters: yelena belova, who will take over the mantle of black widow after this; alexei shostakov aka red guardian, an ollllld marvel hero analogous to captain america except for the soviet union.

tony stark will make an appearance... SOBS

shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings:

shang-chi has never been seen in the mcu before, but he is, essentially, a superhero that is a master martial artist, and in some adaptations can also create duplicate (fake) versions of himself to confuse opponents

main villain will be the the mandarin who we have *sort of* seen before... he is the leader of a terrorist organization called “ten rings” whose main goal is to destroy world peace. brief history -- in iron man 1: one ten rings cell kidnaps tony stark and tries to force him to make weapons (he of course, makes his suit instead). stark and ten rings become enemies and fight a bunch. nat and nick fury fight them too. in iron man 3, the villain aldrich killian hires a dude to pretend to be the mandarin and claim responsibility for a bunch of stuff, but its not the ten rings or the mandarin at all. this makes the mandarin v mad and he has a dude kidnap the faker to punish him. they also briefly show up in ant-man, when a ten rings agent tries to buy the yellowjacket suit that darren cross is selling. BUT IN SHANG-CHI....... looks like we are FINALLY going to see the real mandarin after over a decade!!

the villain razor fist will also show up, he is lesser known... he has no superhuman powers but he has surgically replaced his hands (1 or 2, depending on the version) with a steel blade, and is highly skilled at hand to hand combat.

besides the presence of these characters, the only bit of plot we know is “shang-chi is drawn into the ten rings organization and forced to confront his past.” so... yeah. we don’t know much at all.

eternals:

quick explanation: the eternals are an immortal alien race who have been secretly living on earth for thousands of years. they were created by the celestials, who are most prominently in gotg2.

more entirely new characters!!! their names are: thena, who can form any weapon out of cosmic energy; gilgamesh, who can make a super strong exoskeleton out of cosmic energy; ikaris, who has superhuman strength, flies, and can project cosmic energy out his eyes; kingo, who can shoot cosmic energy projectiles from his hands; makkari, who creates sonic booms, has super speed, and is deaf; phastos, who has enhanced intelligence, and is also gay (and married with a kid!); ajak, who has healing powers; sprite, who can project illusions; sersi, who can manipulate matter; druig, who can mind control; and dane whitman (black knight), a human with a mystical sword.

regarding the plot... it seems the eternals have kind of dispersed, but have to come together again to fight the deviants, who are their “evil counterparts” (also created by the celestials, though i’m unclear on why). thena and gilgamesh have apparently been in exile, unclear why; sersi, who is posing as a museum curator, has apparently been in love with ikaris for centuries and it seems as if their love story may be central to the film; and kingo is a bollywood film star in his spare time. aaaaand that’s pretty much all we know.

directed by chloé zhao of nomadland fame!

spider-man no way home:

based on the post-credits scene in far from home, peter parker will now be known as spider-man to everyone. unclear if he’s going to be seen as a bad guy due to mysterio framing him, but i guess we’ll see!

jamie foxx is electro, and alfred molina is doctor octopus; which is VERY interesting considering they played these roles in other spider-man franchises, once again stirring up excitement for possible multiverse.

there have been *multiple* reports that andrew garfield, kirsten dunst, tobey maguire, and emma stone will be in the movie but tom holland has repeatedly denied this... so... who knows.

there are also rumors that matt murdock / daredevil (from netflix) will be in several scenes! not confirmed though.

MJ is still his girlfriend and i hope it stays that way!!

doctor strange will be featured in the movie, taking on the mentor role now that tony stark is gone :( this will be interesting as i.. haven’t really seen them interact much before. because of this inclusion some people speculate that the film may draw inspo from some comic storylines where peter’s secret identity is restored with magic.

doctor strange in the multiverse of madness:

scarlet witch is essentially co-starring!!! it’s going to be really interesting to see if they bring vision or the twins into this at all, though i’m not counting on it.

seems like mordo will be the main villain -- recall the ds1 post credits scene where he is apparently running around trying to steal people’s magic.

america chavez will make her debut!!!!!! i have no idea how this plays into anything but i am so excited!!

regarding the plot, all we really know is that strange has been researching the time stone, mordo messes with him, and this results in him accidentally unleashing “unspeakable evil.” presumably there will also be heavy involvement of the multiverse, and who knows what kind of craziness that will bring!!

initially was going to be directed by scott derrickson who did ds1; however he stepped down to being just EP due to “creative differences.” i am presuming this is because derrickson really wanted to make this more gothic and horror than disney was comfortable with. i REALLY hope they keep some of those elements though and don’t erase the idea entirely! anyway, it will be directed by sam raimi now (of evil dead and spiderman 2002 fame).

the film also reportedly ties in with the loki series (will loki show up!?) and spiderman 3 (which is obvious enough, given that strange is in that movie and those curious electro and doctor octopus castings...)

thor: love and thunder

directed by taika waititi again, hell yeah!!! and he has stated, the film will be “so over the top now in the very best way" and would make ragnarok look like a "run of the mill, very safe film" .... so.... oh god

so many great returning players!!! including.... valkyrie (now the king of new asgard), jane foster, lady sif, korg, star-lord, mantis, drax, nebula, and kraglin (takes up yondu’s mantle after he dies in gotg2)

in this movie, thor isn’t thor anymore.... it’s JANE!!! she gets cancer :( and is undergoing treatment while simultaneously being thor. i’m a little nervous how this will be handled, but i’m excited. (it’s based off an amazing comic series by jason aaron)

the big bad: gorr the god butcher, played by christian bale! the gist of it is, this dude HATES gods because nobody helped when his family was dying and in need. his weapon is “all-black the necrosword,” forged from the head of a celestial, and allows the user to create wings and fly at extreme speeds. honestly, he sounds cool as fuck.

valkyrie is going to be made canonically bisexual!!!

it will explore more of korg’s backstory, and also include... space sharks!?!?! an alien race from the comics.

taika has called the script “very romantic” so take that as you will

black panther 2

will again be directed by ryan coogler

not much is known at this point, does not have an official name

t’challa will NOT be recast (which i’m happy about) so..... honestly no idea what to expect for this one. i think we can probably expect shuri to have an expanded role. all we know so far is they will be “exploring the world of wakanda.” not clear to me how this is different from the upcoming wakanda D+ series.

tenoch huerta has reportedly been cast as a villain, but no one has any idea who. there’s also rumors that donald glover is in “informal talks” to play a role. note all of this is unconfirmed.

captain marvel 2

will be directed by nia da costa (candyman!) and written by megan mcdonnell, who is one of wandavision’s best writers!

will take place in the present day

will feature kamala khan / ms. marvel, monica rambeau / photon!!! this will be so interesting.... kamala is a huge fan of carol’s in the comics, she is her mentor/idol. the ms. marvel series will also resportedly lead into cm2. and monica, well, monica knew her when she was a little kid. wandavision implies that there’s some bad blood between carol and monica though, not sure why. maybe because carol left and never came back? (until endgame)

post-credits scene of wandavision appears to tie into this, having monica go up into space at the reqeust of her “mom’s old friend.” again, not clear who that is. this could also be a tie in to secret invasion though, so we’ll see. or both.

zawe ashton has been cast as an unknown villain... a lot of people are actually speculating that she may play rogue? which would be fascinating, as there’s a comic arc where rogue steals her powers and memories. BUT there’s still no confirmation that X-men exist in the MCU so for now i remain skeptical.

they are looking to cast a ‘john boyega’ or ‘michael b jordan’ type which makes me wonder if they are going to create a new character, a “younger” war machine to be her love interest? (note: carol and rhodey are a huge thing in comics!) carol obviously does not look her age but her and don cheadle.... that just doesn’t work. which is why i wonder.

ant-man and the wasp: quantumania

in addition to scott and hope, pretty much all the major players are returning including: luis, hank pym, janet van dyne

cassie lang has been recast with an actress 5 years older, which is really making me wonder if they are going to make her stinger in this movie! (aka one of the main young avengers)

the villain: kang the conqueror! this dude time travels. original name nate richards. in the comics, kang travels back in time to rescue his younger self (nate) from an attack that would help shape him towards a life of villainy. kang also gives him some fancy armor. his younger self actually is like, what the fuck dude? and renounces his destiny, becoming a hero. and he makes his armor look like iron man, calling himself iron lad. who is a young avenger. which also makes me wonder about cassie lang.

otherwise not much is known!

guardians of the galaxy vol. 3

james gunn is returning, i’m mixed about this...he really does *get* the guardians though.

based on the gotg2 post credits scene, i think we can assume adam warlock will be a HUGE part of this. there are multiple versions of him, some villainous and some heroic, but no idea how this is gonna turn out.

no word yet on whether thor will be involved, or if those ravagers they introduced will be involved.

fantastic four

will be directed by the spiderman guy, john watts.

otherwise we know literally nothing.

aaaaand that’s the roundup!

#mcu #marvel #black widow #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #eternals #smnwh #spiderman: no way home #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #dsitmom #thor: love and thunder #tlat #black panther 2 #captain marvel 2 #ant man and the wasp: quantumania #amatwq #guardians of the galaxy vol. 3 #gotg3 #fantastic four #mcu thoughts

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redantsunderneath · 4 years

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DC COMICS: Incoherence as Not-a-Bug-but-a-Feature (Spoilers for Batman 89-100)

Due to the emergence of the new Batman villain character Punchline, I wound up buying the last 12 issues of Batman and reading them in a single sitting. I’ve had trouble following DC comics for a while, constantly feeling that they were in trouble since back in the mid 2000s (with a glimmer of hope here and there). The act of reading DC comics has been a frustrating experience, where individual good stories and runs were laying around in the context of a lot of things that didn’t make sense while the company’s thrust felt chaotic and ideas not well blended. Every status quo change seemed hard to figure out the rules of enough to parse the context. We’ll get into the background of this, but my reading today of this extended stretch of comics that keeps losing the plot in favor of a fever dream of what’s happening at the moment with specific characters that refuse to cohere, it became obvious that what I had been looking at as subtext or critique was actually the text. I could see the messed up trees but was missing the the forest the universe was trying to describe.

What happens in these issues (Batman current series 89-100, I missed the beginning of the first of 2 arcs) is rolling war between the major Batman villains and the heroes (plus Harley Quinn and Catwoman), which shifts into a Joker and Joker adjacent vs. all as the Joker double crosses everyone then manages to steal Bruce Wayne’s fortune. We meet 3 new baddies – Underbroker, whose schtick is putting ill-gotten gains beyond the reach of the legal system (with an explicit line to rich globalists drawn), the Designer, who back in the day offered the four A list Batman villains plans to achieve what they most wanted, and Punchline, who is your toxic ex’s new millennial GF who really has it in for you (there is also a new good guy Clownhunter, which is a whole different thing, and a new costumed detective that predates Batman). This doesn’t convey the chaotic nature of what is happening issue to issue, but there’s more than one Batman hallucinogenic spirit quest, dead characters ostensibly walking around, a plan revolving around the Bat’s origin story that tells some version of it several times, and a no-nonsense declaration that the Joker, as the Devil of the Batman spiritual system, cannot die. The whole thing has the effect of convincing you there is no definitive sequence of events, only versions.

Alan Moore’s Killing Joke is not a favorite of mine, for a number of reasons. But the ending holds up. The Joker has done terrible things there is no antecedent for, and Batman wonders aloud if this never-ending dance they do ends in anything but both of their deaths; can they uncouple from the unhealthy duality the cycle of which simply repeats. The Joker responds, well, with a joke about two lunatics trying to escape an asylum. One jumps the roof to the next building, while the other is too scared to try. The escapee offers to hold a light while the other crosses on a beam but he says no, no you’ll just cut the light while I’m half way across. This not very funny joke nonetheless has a bunch of resonances – BM and Joker as conspiring co inmates, BM wanting to break out, a commentary about their natures (almost a reversal of the frog and scorpion story where the scorpion won’t go because he knows how this ends), but mostly it implicates BM as the one who is enabling the cycle, the reason why it won’t end. They both laugh uproariously, and the ambiguous final panels can be read as the fundamental realization of his complicity causing BM to kill J. A lethal joke indeed… except, next month, we see the both of them again. In broader context, the ceaseless cycle of the diad is reaffirmed. This has been hellaciously sticky as an idea in the Batmen universe.

My realization of what DC has been doing is pretty banal in its pieces. Marvel has “ground level” heroes while DC has a mythos, a pantheon. Their archetypal makeup is strong, the seven JLA members lining up with the pantheon of Greek gods and the Chakras weirdly closely. DC has big characters that are somewhat flat which they can use tell big bold individual stories that are cool the way legends and fables are cool. But these stories require bold strokes that a bit incompatible with each other. People get attached to these iterations. Meanwhile, Marvel trucks in soap operas where the characters give you an empathetic stand in and are narratively flexible. Marvel events are usually about the writer vs. the company, asking you to sympathize or deconstruct the creative impulse amid efforts to impose control or order. DC’s events are about editorial vs. the audience, the shapers vs. the forces of the world. It may seem obvious, given this description, that DC’s focus is on an archetypal tableau though it may be less obvious that this tableau is under extreme pressure from expectations when trying to tell ongoing tales month in, month out (or semi-monthly in some cases). The stories are constantly compared against the big stories that have gone before, and the audience’s ideas of the characters exert pressure to push them in directions that capture “the” version they believe in. This circle is not possible to square.

DC and Marvel both have a multiverse of sorts. DC used to tell “Elseworlds” stories which were later tucked into pocket universes. DC invented crossing over between “realities.” DC’s continuity is heavy baggage and they began to have “Crises” to resolve the narrative incompatibilities. These only made things worse as you can’t get rid of the past people have a relationship with – it will come back. Now you have to explain that away too. Marvel just lets it lay – forget about the iffy stories, they count, sure, just no one is ever going to talk about them unless they have an angle. Marvel continuity is all angles and amnesia. This is just easier to do with dating and rent and your ancient aunt’s medical bills than with Gods. Marvel’s multiverse is about sandboxes that you can always dump into the mainframe if they work (and never really mention the sandbox again).

There is a shift that occurred in the industry in the 2004 to 2005 era that is less remarked upon than many upheavals in comic’s history. Marvel had gone through a period of incredible new idea generation in the early 2000s after a late 90s creative cratering but had just fired the pro wrestling inflected soul of that moment (Bill Jemas). DC was coming off of a period of trying to do moderately updated versions of what they basically been doing all along. The attitude was “yeah we’re under stress from the combined history of these characters, but we got to keep telling the stories.” Geoff Johns was one voice of DC over the 99-04 period that showed potential - he seemed to get how to find the core of characters and push them into a new in sync directions if they over the years have lost a clear identity. But mostly he had internalized a basic schism between something mean that the audience wanted, and something good and wholesome about the characters themselves, and figured out how to mess around with this in a equilibrating fashion.

Interestingly, the ignition point of the main forces that were going to blow DC over the next decade and a half was a comic that had virtually nothing to do with any of those main forces. Brad Meltzer, a novelist, was hired to do a comic called Infinity Crisis, which sold extremely well and was, justifiably or not, recognized as an event. At the same time, everyone also kind of hated it because the dark desires of some DC fans were pushed forward just a bit too much for comfort and for a comic with Crisis in the name it didn’t do a whole lot other than “darken” things. Nonetheless, this lit an “event” fire at both companies. Marvel chose a shake up the status quo for a year, then do it again, pattern and was off to the races (I have written about this, and more, here) while continuing its Randian framing of beleaguered do-gooders opposed by rule making freedom haters.

As this was playing out, Dan Didio quietly took power in DC Editorial. His outlook was more Bloomian – he seemed to spark off of writers who exhibited anxiety of influence. He recognized Johns was the one person they had could be promoted into something of a universe architect, starting work on two key projects from which the rest would evolve. The first, was bringing back Hal Jordan as Green Lantern and diffracting the GL universe into its own symbolic system, with parts frisson-ing other parts, and almost a Magic the Gathering color scheme of ideas. The other was to build up to Infinite Crisis, which would become the model for most of their universe changing events until the present day.

The basic frame is this: DC heroes want to be good (in a sense of their inherent nature) but forces outside form a context that makes them fall. It’s a very gnostic universe, DC. They examine reflections of the concepts, invent scapegoats for certain tendencies (see Superboy Prime as entitled fanboy, Dr. Manhattan as editors that try and fail to mend things, etc), make characters violate principles, rehabilitate them, then show that the world if anything is more broken than before. This is kind of Johns’ thing and it fits Didio’s narrative as historicval tension fetish. But then came Scott Snyder (not to be confused with Zack) who began to work on Batman in 2011. Since then, as much as Justice League is pushed as the central title and Lex Luthor has been pimped, Batman has been the core of the universe and the Joker the core villain.

Snyder had the same continuity conflict wavelength but was significantly more meta and able to contain multitudes than Johns. He was the first to make an explicit mystery of how there could be several Jokers around at one time (who are the same but not, he posited 3 – man, Christians!) that seems prescient given the near future coexistence of filmic Jokers that are not able to be resolved. I believe he was the first to begin to tease out an idea – that different versions of things in comics are not a diffraction or filter effect, a using the set of things that work best for that story and leaving the rest, but are a matter of the archetypal system of the audience coming apart. From an in story perspective what appears to happen is that multiple versions of incompatible things exist in the collective unconscious of the continuing narrative, and this is something that the characters may become conscious of.

The run I just read is written by James Tynion IV building on the above trends. The trick seems to be going all in on the Jungian aspect (at Jung’s most religiously epiphanic). The Designer was a progenitor and adversary to Batman’s predecessor and his intellectual approach eventually defeated the detective… broke him. At some point in early Batman history, the Designer brought the top four Bat-baddies together and offered each, in turn, a plan to achieve what they most desired: the Riddler, a way to achieve an empire of the mind; the Penguin, power; and Catwoman, money. They are all elated as they await the Joker to come out. The Joker emerges with a furious Designer on his heals and promptly shoots him dead. He explains that he didn’t like his joke in the form of a fable – the devil offered four people the path to their greatest desire: the three chose earthly things, but the Joker’s wish was to be him, to become the devil. The story proceeds to suggest that the Joker just exists, he is present as a necessary component in the system. You can kill him, yet he is alive.

DC has been using physics metaphors for the nature of their reality since Flash of Two Worlds in 1963. The multiverse as a continuity concept was their idea and the holographic universe of the hypertime was a thing. It seems like since Dan Didio took over, they’ve been heading towards a concept of broad superimposition, of measurement effect being weak, of the universe being like a quantum computer with all possibilities coexisting and the story instantiating not one reality but a path through all the possible ones. By making Batman trip balls through quite a few issues and relive his origin from different angles, the story is one of its own instability and the heroic task that confronts our hero is attempting to actualize the world. The Joker is the Devil in the sense of lack of fixed meaning, of relativistic chaos, of the world not making sense because it’s unmoored nature with ultimately no knowability. Batman, in this story, functions as a postmodern knight crusading against the impossibility of epistemological grounding.

There’s more going on, sure. One plot is, literally, defund Batman. There is rioting, people brainwashed by being exposed to toxic ether, people paid to go to theaters even though they will die as a result, and questions about neoliberalism similar to that one Joker movie. Punchline has no personality yet (Tynion’s not the best at that) but she serves well as a generational foil for Harley – a rudderless ideological vacuum susceptible to Joker-as-idea-virus rather than an unfulfilled MD who felt alienated due to the structures of her life and was seeking escape into structureless possibility. The Designer stuff is both continuity play (See why they changed from goofy villains to more “realistic” ones! Look how pulp heroes informed superheroes!), a comment on the nature of a longstanding narrative (strong intentions die out as Brownian motion overwhelms momentum), and a lawful evil/chaotic evil setup of the dualism of apocalypses (overdetermined authoritarian vs. center does not hold barbarism). But the thing that ties this to the past decade and a half of DC is the sense that the reality is fluid and susceptible to change or outright s’cool incompatibility.

This is different than other flavors of meta in superhero comics. Grant Morrison believes the archetypes are stronger than the forces that seek to bend them. Alan Moore wants you to deconstruct your sacred cows and probably hates you personally. Marvel might play with self-awareness, but effortlessly resolves inconsistencies after it’s finished playing. DC, at this point, allows you to watch the waves solidfy into symbols and dissolve, and the constant confusion and lack of grounding is more of a choice then I thought this time yesterday. The conflict theory of DC reality has been in full swing but this looks to be turning towards a kind of Zen historicism, holding contradictory things in your mind at once. Warren Ellis’ JLA/Authority book is the nearest comparable text I can think of. I need to call this, but I didn’t even talk about Death Metal, DC character multiplicity as meta-psychosis event extraordinaire. Comics just keep getting weirder.

#DC comics #batman #joker #punchline

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neoyi · 3 years

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More Kingdom Hearts II talk, more light and dark, and more Disney shilling. This covers my trip to Halloween Town, Pride Lands, and TRON. Sora gets terribly Too Whimsical For His Own Good during these portions.

*I like the new Christmas costumes and music for the Final Mix add on, but Sora essentially dressed as Goth Santa Claus is an experience. On the other side, Donald’s alternate costume is probably the least cursed out of all his alternate costume.

*While I find it darling that Sora is ecstatic to meet Santa Claus, his enthusiasm sometimes borders on exaggeration. I’ve heard Sora gets more and more whimsical in each new iteration and I’m not saying the kid wouldn’t be squealing to meet Santa Claus, I’m just saying I don’t think KH1 Sora was anywhere near as cheerful as this Sora is.

*This reoccurs again during his trip to the Pride Lands where he decides he wants to be their King and that’s that. No thoughts on getting back to Destiny’s Island where Kairi is. No thoughts on Riku. He only drops this mentality when Rafiki shuts him down and just goes on as normal.

It’s just oddly detached and ratchets up both Sora’s flakiness. He wasn’t a smart cookie, but a lot of his reactions to events and characters in the first game felt realistic or appropriate for his age. Sora sometimes feels like a cookie with extra frosty on top in KHII.

*So Sora is in Santa Claus’ list, implying this particular Santa accounts for any kids who believes in him in Sora’s World. Does this mean Nightmare Before Christmas Santa Claus exists in Sora’s world? Does that mean Halloween Town does as well? Or does Santa’s work transcend the multidimensional? How does this Santa keep up with multiple dimensional Christmas trips if we’re to assume he’s in charge of ALL worlds that believe in him? What kind of Christmas magic are you pulling out of your ass, old man?

*The game seem to imply the events of The Nightmare Before Christmas already took place (least, some of the dialogue indicate familiarity between Jack and Santa Claus), yet Jack is up to his shenanigans again to accidentally fuck up Christmas and all I can think about is this Spongebob meme:

*I remember Maleficent was woefully underused in this game and had me asking what even was the point of her rejuvenation, but I never realized how under-cooked her plans are. She doesn’t seem to have an overreaching goal. One minute she’s trying to secure a new castle for herself, the next she’s gung-ho after Sora and pals. I think the implication is that she’s trying to regain her foothold after Sora and friends thoroughly trashed her Disney Villain Club back in KH1, but with bigger fish to fry and little sign of any advances from her end, she just feels like a useless sock hung off to dry.

*Look man, I know Sora’s not the brightest bulb on the island, but he can’t be that dumb to mistake hyenas for Heartless. Can he?

*The sound effect whenever the Oathkeeper strikes is kind of ear-piercing for me. I do not like it.

*Pride Lands recaps the latter half of The Lion King, but in a twist I really liked, most of it was from Nala’s perspective. It’s Nala who meets Sora and friends first and it’s Nala’s journey to find Simba and defeat Scar that we are privy to. While there isn’t anything revolutionary with the narrative or Nala’s character, it’s really nice to see things from her viewpoint before Sora meets Simba proper.

*Square Enix had to cut the “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” sequence because Disney told them Simba is a hero and they can’t have him do that or otherwise they won’t be able to sell toys.

*Christ, I forgot Mufasa’s ghost is the conduit for Sora to unlock the next gate from the Pride Lands.

*You know, props for including the TRON mainframe. Like the movie (and its sequel/spin-offs) is decently out there to the public now, but it was still a cult classic only a select few really gave a shit about back in 2005 ("Did anyone see the movie TRON?"). I won’t even pretend for a second KHII didn’t introduce TRON to a lot of folks growing up with this game.

*But my god, Sora’s TRON helmet is really doofy. Look at how his hair is sticking out. It’s like he got bald and the helmet is covering up that portion.

*Sora and pals: no idea what terms like “Users”, “mainframe”, and “processing data” means. Somehow figures out “derezzed” - literally the only made up word here - means they’re done for. ...Sure, okay.

*Really cool they went out of their way to make sure every single keyblade also glows neon blue.

*Sad the TRON bike level is...kind of lame.

*It’s not a competition given Disney’s mandate strictly forbids most Disney Worlds to interact anymore than they’re allowed to within the central plot, but TRON bucks that trend. It’s pretty neat their world (once originally part of ENCOM) has since become Ansem’s primary computer mainframe to which he used to rule and build his kingdom with, the titular character serving as his chief programmer.

Tron goes through the whole “I am data, human logic does not compute, but I wish to learn” exploration, but he already show signs of understanding that we humans are pretty contradictory creatures and that we’re just as capable of throwing the curtain back - for good or ill. (This also neatly allows him to function as his own being instead of motivating his goodwill through sheer programming.) His relationship with Ansem both function as a benevolent tool and a limiter. He believed Ansem was capable of good and was thus programmed to preserve and save Hollow Bastion, but Ansem also brought in their main culprit - the MCP - to its system, something Tron is puzzled with since he isn’t aware of Ansem’s fate.

Since we already knew Ansem was once a King who eventually succumbed to the Darkness, this is honestly, pretty neat worldbuilding (Course, the wool will be pulled over again when we find out Ansem isn’t Ansem and...I’ll deal with that particular plot point later on because yeah, doozy.)

#kingdom hearts #neoyi talks #kingdom hearts II

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fuckyeahharryhart · 3 years

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FAN FIC: PART 7 KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

SUMMARY: A familiar face shows up at Kingsman. They discuss the possibility of a new adversary threatening the future of Kingsman.

WORD COUNT: 4800

Might be less developed as other chapters. I suck at plot.

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A tall, decidedly handsome man pushed open the double doors of Kingsman Tailor Shop and strode in as if he owned the place. It was a possibility not to discount as he was dressed almost identically as the Kingsman agents. However, there was something quite different about this gentleman. His distinction had more to do with his bearing, the way he walked, the way he swaggered and less to do with his black leather cowboy boots and his silver flask belt buckle. Though these deviations from Kingsman’s regulation attire were noted. He seemed to take up more space, even though the shop was empty at the time. He was taller than Eggsy, but not quite reaching the heights of Harry, even with his heeled boots. And while Harry carried himself with a subtle, lean and long masculine grace, this man was robust and brawny. His build was closer to Eggsy’s, broad in the shoulders, strong and sturdy. Just taller. Bigger.

The man paused at the reception desk. Drove the pointed, business end of a Kingsman umbrella, the ferrule, onto the hardwood floor. He clutched the grip with both hands and announced his presence, while planting himself with his cowboy boots a little wider than hips width distance apart.

“Tell ‘em in the back that Agent Tequila’s here.” He hollered.

Aside from the smaller details, his voice was the identifying factor. The man announced his presence with a deep, masculine southern drawl. The accent had the formality of Received Pronunciation, but with a twist from across the pond.

He was Agent Tequila, from the United States. He arrived at Kingsman London to assist after the events of The Golden Circle depleted the Kingsman’s ranks. And because Champagne “Champ”, the head of Statesman, their U.S. counterpart, believed some time spent with the good ‘ole boys of Kingsman would add a little class and sophistication to the rough around the edges, but otherwise adept agent.

Tequila, on the other hand, regarded this stint as an opportunity, if not to corrupt the ranks of Kingsman, at the very least, shake ‘em up a bit. Loosen ‘em up. It didn’t have to be suits and ties ALL the time.

His own reflection caught his eye in one of the dressing mirrors and he gave himself a wink. He did have to admit that he carried the suit well and he did look mighty damn fine.

Not a bad toss up for being a little less comfortable in his Levis and his snap button shirts. He did find himself missing his cowboy hat. The rounded felt hat from the London hat-makers Thomas and William Bowler, felt stuffy and small compared to his Stetson. Granted, it did have an older history in 1849, compared to 1865, but not by much. He was assured that the bowler, in conjunction with the rolled brolly, what they called an umbrella, was the look of a proper city gentleman. He still figured southerners could hold their own when you got right down to it. In the meantime, as long as they didn’t put a bur in his saddle, everything should be fine as paint. No sale on the cowboy boots and the belt buckle. Getting citified only went so far. But otherwise, he reckoned, when in Rome.

The door to one of the dressing rooms swung open and Eggsy stepped out. An odd place to be waiting, seeing that he wasn’t with a client. How the hells long as he been in there, he thought.

Tequila lifted a chin in his direction.

“Well, you got here faster than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking competition -”

He cut himself off when a second person followed him out of the room. Not a client, curiously, but a young woman he had never seen before. Her attire was similar to Kingsman agents, but not exactly. She was dressed in a slim skirt and suit set, a navy Prince of Wales check. Just as their suits were cut to fit a man’s shape, hers was cut to enhance the lines of a more feminine figure. Just as precise, just as exacting. Rather than a men’s dress shirt, she wore a feminine silk blouse with ruffled detailing. Rather than a tie, she had a silk scarf of the same pattern tied around the low bun holding her hair. Her black patent Mary Janes gave another several inches to her already tall height. She made really quite the fetching picture.

Well, there go my manners, Tequila thought.

Eggsy decided it was in all of their best interests if he took care of the introductions, just in case the brash southerner was about to come up with something that sounded slightly insulting. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with his particular curious vernacular just yet. And Eggsy didn’t trust him enough not to say something offensive.

“Agent Tequila, I would like you to meet Gwendolyn Mycroft.” he gestured to the woman who stood next to him, “She is one of Kingsman’s newest additions.”

“Gwendolyn, this is Agent Tequila, he is part of Statesman, our equivalent agency based in the United States. I believe you are familiar with it.”

Eggsy stopped himself. He didn’t quite think it was an appropriate time or in good taste to mention she knew Statesman because she hacked into their computer’s mainframe and then watched her father die.

Gwendolyn held out her hand politely, with an inscrutable expression. It was the way she greeted all unknowns until she was able to form her opinion.

“Pleasure to meet you, Agent Tequila.” she responded properly.

Eggsy wanted to cringe when he saw Tequila take her hand and promptly kiss the back of it.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Mycroft.” He drawled. Gwendolyn began to pull her hand back a fraction before he let it go. If she was amused or offended by his gesture, she didn’t let it show.

At least it wasn’t a double air cheek kiss, Eggsy thought. He continued. “Agent Tequila is also here to help us establish the foundation of the new Kingsman.”

Tequila, in Gwendolyn’s direction. “I guess you’re here to do the same.”

Her expression still hadn’t shifted. But her eyes had yet to leave Agent Tequila’s face.

Eggsy spoke for her. “Yes, she is also helping in Field work, Strategy as well as Research and Development.”

“Well don’t you sound as smart as all get out.” Tequila said as a compliment. “Why don’t you join us while Eggsy gives me a tour of this joint?”

Eggsy noticed that Gwendolyn’s expression had not changed a single bit since she first saw the agent from the south. And with Tequila pouring on more charm than usual, he was sure it was going to make for an interesting time at Kingsman. As he invited the agent to take a tour of the shop, he was suddenly very glad that he was married.

——

With the financial support of their new Kingsman distillery and additional backing from Statesman, they were able to begin the rebuild of the shop, ancillary locations and warehouses, though it would still be years until they were able to match the previous Kingsman’s massive collection of artillery, technology, and properties. Kingsman had been steeped in history. Many objects of historical significance they had lost were irreplaceable. But its complete destruction allowed them the opportunity to separate the wheat from the chafe, the good from the bad, to let go of archaic traditions that no longer held significance or value, and prioritise where their main focus should lie.

Reconstructing the Kingsman’s front was one of those top priorities. The tailor shop was running smoothly again, fashioning first rate bespoke menswear as it had prior to the explosions. Kingsman agents were supplied with new suits with fresh bulletproof lining. A new collection of accoutrements accompanied each agent. They prioritized the shop, as well as rebuilding their armoury and weapons cache.

As long as the agents had their Kingsman armour and the accessories that completed the look, they were mission ready. The rest would be replaced in time. Historical buildings and 100 year old scotch couldn’t protect the world from all the horrible things men did to each other. It was the knights, the brave and honourable men and women that made up the ranks of Kingsman, that would carry on the ultimate mission of their organization, to uphold peace and protect life.

The Kingsman suit didn’t make the man, but the agents definitely embodied the suits as well as every gentleman spy should. And being a gentleman spy was a matter of being four things. They were polite. They were courteous. They were well mannered. And they had a plan to kill everyone in the room at any given time.

———-

Gwendolyn’s appearance came, by chance, at the most fortuitous moment. While a drive-by shooting was not the most elegant tactic to remove players from the board, if done properly, it was effective. Fast and fatal with little fuss. With less chance for blowback, but common enough where the news of a drive by shooting was not likely to stir the interest of the authorities other than to increase patrol and warn residents to take precaution.

Most likely this kind of shooting would be treated as an anomaly. An unfortunate, one-of incident. It also kept agencies such as theirs, from raising alert to a possible threat.

The modus operandi of low life thugs and gangs that did not have enough sophistication for tradecraft, drive-by shootings usually had three purposes, as a warning, to take out a rival, or an initiation of a new member. It was doubtful that Kingsman was the target of a local gang. But sometimes gangs freelanced for those with more power.

Gwendoyn mentioned that it was quite possible that whomever or whatever wanted them out of the picture had outsourced or contracted the job. It would pose even less risk for the controlling party. On the other hand, anytime an organization no longer took care of wet work “in-house” there was always the possibility for indiscretion, for leaks. There was no honor amongst thieves for these kinds of criminals. The only means to motivate them was either through money or power or the fear of losing both.

If this adversary wanted Kingsman off the board, they had power and influence that went deep. Eggsy mentioned if they were able to identify both Harry and himself, have access to their schedule and whereabouts for any given day, that meant they had the resources for hi-tech surveillance. Setting up counter-surveillance should take precedence.

Not necessarily, Gwendolyn had pointed out. Sure it was time consuming and repetitive, but she was able to surveil the same, determine the same schedule, gather the same intel just by physical reconnaissance. Even though she had been a near constant presence for two weeks, she had not raised any suspicions. She was there, expecting Harry and Eggsy, just as the vehicle was. There was no sense setting up hi- tech counter surveillance if the adversary wasn’t using high technology surveillance to begin with.

Sometimes, low-tech, low-fi, the least expected method was the one that was used BECAUSE of it’s near obsolescence. Gwendolyn emphasized that they shouldn’t rely just on tech to determine who the enemy was. Curious since one of her main strengths was in tech, but her father had always emphasised not to let her talents and skills become a crutch. A good agent looked at all angles of a problem, not just the angle that gave her the best view.

The Golden Circle left a large void in the criminal world that needed to be filled. Luckily, for Kingsman, that meant a lot of in-house fighting and attempts to gain power. Deals and alliances were made and broken. Backs were stabbed. Retribution was had. As challenging as it was to broker a deal in legitimate business matters, it was exponentially more risky when you were dealing with individuals who robbed, lied and killed for a living.

——

On an average London afternoon, slightly cloudy and overcast, with an occasional peek of sunshine through the clouds, Kingsman debated matters of life and death.

They were all seated at the long table in the new dining room, discussing the new threat. The table consisted of Gwendolyn, Agent Tequila, Galahad Sr. and Galahad Jr. They really had to do something about those codenames. But apparently, the name had significance to both Harry and Eggsy and neither of them was ready to give up the handle.

Ever since the betrayal of long-standing agents in both organizations, Chester King, the Arthur that betrayed Harry and Kingsman, and the discovery of Agent Whiskey as a traitor in Statesman, and of course, the destruction of Kingsman and all of its agents, they were taking more care of who was on a need to know basis. In this case, the circle was a small one. Harry and Eggsy, since they were the targets, Gwendolyn for obvious reasons, and Agent Tequila, whose fresh eyes might be able to discern nuances they had overlooked. It was just as well the group was small. The other remaining active Kingsman were all in the field on other assignments. Everyone was having to do more with less.

Gwendolyn was seated at the head of this small gathering, not that she was taking up the mantle of Arthur. Since she was present at the time of the shooting, had reconnoitred the area and had the most actionable intel so far, she was assigned monitor for this little conference. It was one of her first times leading a meeting at Kingsman. Herding cats seemed suddenly very relatable. She was never one to be nervous or doubt her abilities, but the presence of three alpha males, each with strong personalities and convictions, two whose lives could depend on the conversation, kept her at the top of her game.

They were discussing the possibilities when Gwendolyn surmised.

“The way I see it, we are all agreed this was not a random shooting.”

Harry nodded. With his brow drawn together in concentration, he was listening intently. Eggsy, twiddling his pen, was still pissed that they hadn’t even had a chance to return fire at the tossers. Agent Tequila was staring at Gwendolyn, throwing her a wink every time she glanced in his direction.

She chose to ignore everyone except Harry.

She was cautious not to let her gaze rest on him too long. Despite their evening together in the lounge, Harry treated her exactly the same as he always had. Helpful and kind. Still critical in moments where he knew she could do better. Supportive when he needed to be. He didn’t distance himself in any way. He was comfortable at her side, lightly touching her shoulder, her hand, her back when it was appropriate. If anything, she was modifying her own behaviour. She was careful not to touch him first or stand too close. If she knew he was nearby or heard his footsteps, with his stride long and purposeful, her body would tense and her heart would beat faster as he approached.

If her eyes wandered and accidentally caught his gaze, he would throw her a wink and the tiniest hint of a smile before she had the chance to look away. This new twinkle was the only change that she noticed. She had to struggle not to blush every time she saw it. She was determined not to blush in front of these three agents. She spoke clearly and with authority.

“This was a very specific attempt to hit very specific targets. In cases where low-fi is used, it is typically implemented when the actual adversary is either extremely powerful, well known, or technologically advanced, perhaps all three and therefore, wants to avoid using their own resources so they can remain unknown.”

“What about catching the perps?” suggested Eggsy, who still wanted to deliver a job to the face to someone, at the very least.

“The chances of apprehending the actual shooters is slim, but we can still approach that angle.”

She thought for a moment, then added.

“Perhaps we can give them an incentive to inform on their employer. However, I’m sure they have been threatened in the extreme to NOT cooperate with anyone seeking their information. In any case, we may be wasting time looking at a dead end.”

Her father had always looked at the bigger picture and she concentrated on doing the same.

“What I find most suspicious, is the lack of direct, beneficial outcome resulting in the elimination of the targets.”, she said seriously. She was searching for the improbable.

“Thanks, yeah, for putting it so warmly.” Eggsy said, vaguely amused.

She raised her eyebrows a him, shaping her face into someone that should not be interrupted.

Agent Tequila offered his view point. It wasn’t very helpful, either.

“Seems like someone just wants to get rid of Kingsman. That’s one long ass streak of bad luck.” He shook his head. “Sorry boys, it looks like ya’ll got a lot of folks who wanna see you go down.”

Gwendolyn circled the conversation back to the topic at hand.

“What I mean is, what’s the goal?”

“Eh, to kill us, obviously.” Eggsy said pointedly, looking at the others for agreement. He leaned back in his chair. He assumed that was evident.

“Of course.” Gwendolyn explained with more patience than she felt.

“That’s the action.” She added, questioning, “What is the equal and opposite reaction that they are expecting to achieve?”

She focused on Harry and Eggsy.

“The two of you are obviously integral to Kingsman, but as someone who has been part of the beating heart of these kinds of agencies, they’re going about it the wrong way.”

“How so?” asked Harry. At least he was being encouraging.

“If your goal is to disable an organization, you don’t get rid of the players in the field.” She explained.

“You take out a source of power, such as information, communications. You wipe out their computer system, or target their armoury, or drain their funds. If you are going to take someone off the board, you take out the person who controls access. Sabotage. Make them inoperable, so that no matter how many men they have, no matter how large their army, they are not able to fight. They no longer have means of support.”

At the mention of sabotoge, armoires, wiping out systems, the other two men listened to her with increasing interest.

“That leaves the adversary free to continue their illegal activities without interruption. Not having to deal with threats gives them more resources for whatever generates them money and or power.”

“Not to offend, but after the beating the agency took after V-Day and the absolute knock out from The Golden Circle, most of your efforts have been on regrouping, rebuilding, reestablishing Kingsman’s presence. Kingsman has been mostly laying low. If you were on a revenge list, or you had an enemy that wanted to destroy Kingsman for good, that would have been the most opportune time. While the agency was at its weakest.”

She paused, making sure the men were both paying attention and following her train of thought. Her mind was working on all the possibilities. Experience told her that this was not a simple case of retribution. She was narrowing in on her point.

“Taking out two random agents - “

Eggsy drew back his head and balked, “Beg your pardon. Random?”

Even Harry looked vaguely offended.

Male egos, Gwendolyn thought.

“No offence meant of course. But, ultimately, when you get to the crux of it, in the end you are both agents. Exceptional agents, without a doubt. But taking out two agents, without a focused skill that the organisation’s structure relies on, has no point.”

“Unless,” she said, “that IS the point.”

Now the three agents all had the similar look of confusion on their faces. Three sets of furrowed brows and narrowed eyes turned toward her for clarification.

“Assassination.” She arrived at her point and from here, she was thinking out loud as much as presenting them with information.

Harry was intrigued and nodded slightly to himself. Eggy looked equally surprised and thoughtful. Even Tequila stopped looking at her as if she were a county fair ride he wanted to hop on and started to look involved.

“Assassination has two main purposes. To take out a political figure, a head of state, to disrupt the flow of command. Or, to demoralise the people under their leadership. In your case, you’ve already lost your head of state twice in the past two years.”

She turned to Harry.

“Harry, you’re not even officially Arthur. In fact, Kingsman is yet to designate a permanent head of state. Eliminating that position would do little to disrupt your chain of command. That logic is flawed.”

She continued to clear her path of reasoning, sifting the crucial from the non-essential.

“What’s left?” She asked.

“To demoralise the soldiers?” She made a point of looking around at the empty chairs.

“What soldiers? Most of your agency was destroyed, the agents killed. There are only a handful of working agents who are all out in the field. Most of them are not even in contact until their mission is complete. I have the feeling that we could all be blown up again and those agents would just continue on with their daily operations.”

“That’s lovely.” murmured Eggsy.

“It’s true, though.” Harry said in support. Most of the agents in the field, the few that they had, were more than capable of handling their missions on their own with little support from HQ.

She leaned back into her chair until they were all awaiting her to continue. Assassination, was an interesting motive, aside from the actual killing and dying aspect.

“Another reason for an assassination,” she was honing the idea in her mind as she was speaking, “Is to show the power of the organisation behind the killing.”

Her eyes narrowed as she circled her conclusion.

“I believe this was a show.” Her voice was low, secure with her words. Not too dissimilar from a gang initiation ritual, she thought.

“I theorise that this was an attempt of an organisation who has newly arrived into power. They are solidifying their new position by making a statement and asserting dominance over their rivals.”

The men began to shift in their seats, uncomfortable at the thought of a new powerful adversary.

“Please, gentleman. Hear me out.”

At the sound of being addressed gentleman, all three agents straightened up and, with respect, gave Gwendolyn their attention. There were some benefits of being a lady in a room full of men.

“What both of you are,” she said, speaking to both of the Galahads, “is venerated in the intelligence community and feared by the network of criminals around the world.”

She turned toward the younger, brash agent by Harry’s side. “Eggsy, you almost single handedly took out Richmond Valentine and stopped V-Day from being the world catastrophe that it could have been.”

He shrugged, a rare show of modesty for him. Though Gwendolyn had an inkling that he was being facetious. The shrug was more in the lines of “Who, what? Me? Nah, it was nothin.”

Now she turned to the older of the two. Fully engaged in the subject matter, Gwendolyn did not let her eye contact falter this time.

“Harry is part of spy lore now. Let all alone all that he’s done in the course of his career. And then to have survived Valentine’s bullet to the face? Essentially cheated death and to return in time to thwart the largest global hostage situation in history? With Eggsy? Of course, all missions are covet. Classified. But word gets around through underground channels. For those on either side of good or evil. They must be aware of your existence. They’ve heard of your missions. They might not know exactly who you are, but apparently someone does.”

Harry, in his own dignified manner, accepted the compliments as a matter of fact.

“After the collapse of the Golden Circle, what better opportunity for those in the underworld to try to make a grab for power? It was all of their infighting that allowed you the time and space to rebuild. It seems like their restructuring is in place. Now, whoever has filled the void, needs to establish the new pecking order. What better way than to take out the two most recognisable agents from one of the oldest, most respected agencies?” She asked the men rhetorically.

Gwendolyn knew what action needed to be taken.

“We need to know who the new power players are.” She said firmly.

The timing was outstanding. “Now what is the be all and end all, of all Galas? Where only the richest, the most famous, and the most powerful go to see and be seen. THE event that not only national governments around the world use to network, but also the leaders that work underground, through less legitimate channels?

Harry and Eggsy looked at each other. They came to the same conclusion.

“The Monarch’s Ball.” They both said.

“Exactly.” Gwendolyn said emphatically.

“Sounds like a party.” Agent Tequila added.

This time, Harry, Eggsy and Gwendolyn confirmed simultaneously.

“It is.”

----

Thanks for hanging in there! Some chapters may be better than others....

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1358456 · 4 years

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Legacy Spoilers - Platinum

So now that the two major events have already been spoiled, now to list the stuff that my favorite Dex Holder will do.

Also, in the end, Platinum remained my favorite Dex Holder to the very last. Just counting the years since I started writing with Pokemon Special stuff (2009-2020), other than the brief moment when Platinum’s name hadn’t been revealed yet, she has been my favorite Dex Holder for the entire time.

Like before, discretion, spoilers and semantics and yadda yadda. And much to no one’s surprise, this one is LONG since it turns out that Platinum is participating in vast majority of the plot events, if not all of them.

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- Platinum warns Y about her Dragon Pokemon evolving too quickly. Y gets severely discouraged, thinking that her favorite senior doesn’t have much faith in her abilities.

- Worried that Y would rush even more to prove herself, Platinum spends a lot more time training with her, in order to help her get better control of her Dragon Pokemon.

- Blue is infected with a mysterious disease and suddenly collapses during a girls-only trip with Platinum, White, and Y. Platinum takes her to the hospital and quickly realizes that the situation is very unusual and severe.

- Platinum thinks it’s her fault as she sees just how depressed Red is upon seeing Blue dying, as she’s the one who helped them get together.

- Platinum is absolutely devastated when Blue dies. As Red falls into deep depression, she is unable to comfort him whatsoever as she blames herself for his misery. As a result, she is unable to do anything to prevent him from disappearing shortly after Blue’s death.

- Platinum notices that Moon is distancing herself from her, and becomes more depressed. Diamond, Pearl, White, and Y try to cheer her up but they are not particularly successful.

- Silver finds out that Team Rocket was responsible for Blue’s disease and death, and wages a solo war against the organization. Crystal tasks Gold and Platinum with finding Red for the upcoming fights.

- Platinum finds Red in a bar in Viridian City, and is quite shocked to see just how much he had changed in the past month, and how aggressive he had become, since he was even glaring at her constantly. She is crestfallen as she knows that this is her fault and tries her best to keep her distance from him.

- Y’s Mega Garchomp goes berserk during a fight against a small Team Rocket force. Y attempts to calm it down, but the Mega Garchomp winds up accidentally stabbing her through the chest with its scythe-claw. Platinum was unable to intervene as she was busy fighting her own opponents. Y manages to survive barely due to the quick response from White and Moon. Y falls into a coma and Platinum falls into shock, realizing that she had failed to protect her junior and had failed to prevent this foreseen rampage.

- Platinum starts to lose composure as her guilt, pain, and fears are starting to take toll.

- Platinum demands Moon to tell her the truth about what had been happening. Moon reluctantly tells her everything, Platinum is shocked as she realizes that her beloved “sister” and junior had been going through such pain in another region while she herself had been enjoying her time with friends while completely unaware, and is quite hurt to realize that said junior had been deceiving her for months now.

- Platinum ends up greatly hurting Moon out of her anger and pain, demanding if this was how Moon was repaying her for all that she had done for her.

- That night, White sees Moon running away but fails to catch up to her. Instead, she talks to Diamond and together, talk to Platinum. Platinum deeply regrets her words and hastily runs off to find Moon.

- Platinum fails to find Moon and goes to enlist Sabrina’s help in finding her. Sabrina reports that an unusual energy signature belonging to Moon had surged in a Team Rocket facility.

- Black and White are dispatched to scout ahead. But they soon drop out of contact, and Platinum goes to investigate the facility herself. Platinum finds Black unconscious near the “entrance”, and wakes him up.

- Platinum and Black wander through the seemingly haunted and twisted facility to find White and Moon.

- Platinum stumbles upon Moon’s thought-impressions, and is able to hear Moon’s thoughts as she descended into madness. Moon’s final thought-impression was her endlessly repeating the phrase “I must protect her”. Platinum realizes that Moon had already been killed and faints. Black tries to console her once she wakes up, but fails.

- Platinum and Black eventually find White hung in a large chamber filled with dead bodies of the Team Rocket members of the facility in similar states. The markings on White’s wrist show that she had been tied up before she was hung, indicating that this wasn’t suicide but rather, murder. Platinum deeply regrets allowing Black and White to scout ahead, and falls into depression.

- Black swears revenge and charges off but Platinum doesn’t follow him and stays next to White’s corpse.

- Platinum is almost swallowed by madness as she surrenders to the darkness but is interrupted as Moon’s ghost appears.

- Moon’s ghost tries to attack her, but manages to recognize her. Platinum approaches Moon’s ghost as she kneels, and weeps as she embraces her. The sadness and sincerity break through Moon’s madness and the two are able to reconcile.

- The reconciliation comforts Platinum just enough to give her the strength to push forward. She carries White’s body on her back and leaves to find Black.

- Platinum finds Black mindlessly walking around, as his blinding rage had subsided and is now swallowed by depression. She manages to comfort him enough to pull him out of depression.

- Platinum finds the command center of the facility and begins to poke around to see what Team Rocket was up to. Platinum finds details about the K3 project and that Team Rocket was attempting something in Sinnoh.

- Black searches through the security camera archives and finds the footage of Moon being killed. Platinum sees the footage as well but having already reconciled with Moon, she manages to overcome her tears and remembers the location to retrieve the corpse.

- Platinum returns with Moon’s corpse and sees the security footage of White being hung. She notices that the one murdering White is Black, who had been possessed by the overflowing curse upon coming in contact with the twisted Mega Banette.

- Black had somehow managed to overcome the revelation, so the two proceed to leave the facility.

- After one last encounter with Moon’s ghost, Platinum leaves for Sinnoh to have Moon’s corpse buried and given a fitting funeral in the Berlitz Mansion graveyard.

- Diamond and Pearl accompany Platinum to Sinnoh for the funeral and to investigate Team Rocket activity. After the funeral, Diamond and Pearl take time to cheer up and comfort Platinum.

- Cynthia alerts Platinum that massive unstable energy had been emanating from Mt. Coronet. Platinum, Diamond, and Pearl join the Sinnoh Gym Leaders in investigating the energy, and discover a forced fusion of Dialga and Palkia.

- With the help of Giratina, Platinum, Diamond, and Pearl are eventually able to assist the Sinnoh Gym Leaders in separating Dialga and Palkia. Platinum recognizes the scientists responsible for the fusion are indeed from Team Rocket. The three Sinnoh Dex Holders return to Kanto.

- Once Platinum returns from Sinnoh, she joins the other Dex Holders in assaulting the main research facility where the K3 project has been developed.

- Inside the facility, Red and Platinum reach the research and development section of the facility, deep underground. They find a storage room filled with weird biological matter in jars and pods. Platinum watches a strange ball of brown hair in a large jar, and the object slowly turns around in the fluid, revealing an open pair of blue eyes and pale skin. Platinum notices that the object is a badly deformed human head and the eyes begin to blink.

- Red finds Blue inside a large pod and breaks it open to save her. Platinum rushes to assist but then realizes the Blue inside the pod is feral and doesn’t actually have a mind. The feral clone lashes out at Platinum but Red breaks the clone before it can do any damage.

- Several more failed clones escape their holding cells and swarm Red and Platinum, forcing them to fight their way out.

- Red and Platinum realize that all they are seeing in this chamber are failed clones of Blue, ranging from near complete bodies to horribly deformed masses. Red believes that these clones are the result of this K3 project, and vows to destroy everything related to it.

- Red and Platinum fight through the facility to get to the central lab. They interrogate some of the researchers and find out that there is a completed clone of Blue, and that she is the K3 project.

- Platinum tries to convince Red to spare the completed clone.

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The Good Ending

- Platinum successfully convinces Red to spare the completed clone. Red leaves Platinum to finish up in the central lab while he rushes off to find and save Blue.

- Platinum assists the other Dex Holders in destroying the data and the remnants of the K3 project, and then destroys the facility after everyone escapes.

- All the remaining Dex Holders head to Unova to stop the remnants of the rogue Team Rocket elements from awakening Kyurem and forcing a fusion with Reshiram and Zekrom. They are too late, however, as Kyurem had successfully fused with its two counterparts to become the original Dragon once more.

- Blue and Platinum analyze the forced fusion’s energy waves to spot weaknesses. With their analysis, the Dex Holders are eventually able to destabilize the fusion and force the three to separate once more.

- Afterwards, Platinum assists Red in installing Blue’s mainframe in his house so that Blue would have no issues maintaining her artificial intelligence.

- Red thanks Platinum for her invaluable assistance, and apologizes for being cold to her before. The two reconcile and are happy.

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The Bad Ending

- Platinum fails to convince Red to spare the completed clone. She attempts to stop him from recklessly destroying everything, hoping to snap him out of his anger.

- Platinum battles Red to the best of her abilities, but she is eventually defeated. She still tries to stop his reckless thirst for vengeance, and he ends up attacking her directly as he vents his rage and frustrations on her, blaming her for everything.

- Red leaves her broken and bleeding in the central lab. Platinum tries to stand up to chase after Red, but she doesn’t have the strength to do so.

- Platinum is left abandoned as the facility is destroyed, and the building collapses. She survives the event, but is now buried deep underground in rubble.

- Platinum apologizes to Red and Blue for causing them so much pain by helping them get together, and for failing to stop Red from doing something that he would regret forever. She apologizes to White and Moon for causing their deaths and being unable to save them whatsoever. She apologizes to Y for leaving her all alone now, and for not being able to prevent the rampaging Dragon Pokemon.

- Lastly, Platinum apologizes to Diamond for not being able to spend her life with him, and leaving him to live with her death.

- The door to the lab breaks open as the feral failed clones of Blue have all escaped captivity when the building collapsed and destroyed their cells and pods. Platinum closes her eyes as she would rather not see the horrible deformations of her beloved senior as they tear her apart. Platinum is quickly killed in the hands of the feral swarm.

#misc

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threeminutesoflife · 5 years

Text

Flaying a(n Albert) Fish

Pairings: Clint x Dark!Reader x Steve Summary: Reader extracts revenge against a monster. Warnings: 18+, dark reader, blood/gore, serial killer similar to Albert Fish- mentions of sexual assault and death against children- no description, home invasion, kidnapping, cannibalism, body parts, murder Word Count: 4.5k

Halloween Challenge- Are You Afraid of the Dark @barnesrogersvstheworld Thank you for hosting! Hope you have a fantastically Haunted and Happy Halloween!

prompt: #20 monster

“I would say sorry for not having smaller hands, since that’s what you prefer... and this’ll be the last time you feel anything warm on it...” you snarled at him coldly, “but we both know I’m not.”

Taking a step away from him, you twirled the hammer in your hand.

“Don’t forget to scream- just like they did. Because this is going to hurt,” you reeled the weapon back behind your head. “So. Very. Much.”

Deafening screams filled the house as you connected again and again, bludgeoning his depravity.

Bursts of air flared from your nostrils, while you tried to collect yourself and settle your breathing.

Blood dribbled down the end of the hammer adding to the growing puddle of inside-out remains between you both. Adrenaline slowed and your knuckles cracked as you jerkily loosened the grip on the hammer.

Tossing the weapon to the side, you eyed the new bastardized art piece. Blood spilled out, a waterfall between his legs. Tormented whimpers, broken sobs and dying struggles for breath; all his suffering brought a sense of warm achievement in your chest.

The police scanner bounced off your old Tower bedroom walls again.

You knew FRIDAY could simply stream the chatter, but there was something nostalgic about pushing buttons and twirling knobs.

You’ve listened to scans and phone calls, examined emails and files, plotted an idea of homegrown justice, and researched possible suspects. It was a haunting police case taking up your attention in between the missions. Maps and photos hugged your wall with notes crisscrossing over other various notes.

FRIDAY recorded the scans and police emails when you were away. Ever vigilant to highlight any details or new findings from the police mainframe about the intruder, who was preying on families with young children.

Which is where you read that the gags he placed between the children’s teeth- were all torn from what they determined to be one main source, a blanket. A dark line of all the better to hush them with came to your mind.

According to the notes, the gags' frayed ends matched each other when lined up. FRIDAY displayed the crime photos that showcased how the arrangement made an old, faded cartoon character emerge. Police thought the sexual intruder, dubbed the boogeyman, was ripping up his own childhood blanket to use in his assaults. One detective scribbled a possibility that the intruder's gags meant he was sentimental- and this was a way to intimately share himself and be closer to the victims.

You hoped the sentimental criminal slipped up on a small detail, perhaps overlooking the copyright year by the licensed character design. A small something to help narrow down his age, but unfortunately no. The print design was too timelessly popular and none of the victims left living could describe him.

And with no leads, the crimes continued. The boogeyman kept breaking into homes in the middle of the night to preform heinous acts. He threatened to kill the parents and siblings of the terrified children to keep them quiet and pliable.

Families were terrified for their children, scared their homes would be next. If victimizing the children out of their innocence wasn't monstrous enough, he'd hog tie them with duct tape and hide them away in their closets or stuff them into toy chests. Then he'd ransack the homes, randomly pocketing worthless items before leaving.

It was a grim thought you always had when reviewing the crime photos, it was like the children were his play things and he was simply plucking them off the floor, clearing them away when he was done with them. This monster needed to be stopped before he broke more toys and threw them away completely.

But it was always the same- until it wasn't.

Michael Robertson's small body recovered from river.

Steve was well-aware how this case was taking over your attention. From the smaller missions you traded or tried to give away to other teammates- to the many nights you kept the middle of his and Clint's bed empty.

Both men clearly remembered the cold shoulder you served them when Steve sent you out on a two week mission, pulling rank and ordering you to comply. Clint sided with him believing a break away from the case would help. As begrudgingly as you felt at the time, it did help to be away from the white noise of the scanners. Until FRIDAY sent you an urgent message- another child victimized a few days into the mission, this one resulting in death. His body found a day before you got back.

Breaking News: CHILD TAKEN, BODY FOUND.

Michael Robertson, age 6, kidnapped from home while parents slept. Killer removed boy's pajamas and laid them out on child's bed for parents to find next morning.

You knew you were losing yourself more and more in this police case, but with the hysteria emerging on the streets now that the boogeyman claimed another victim, one resulting in death, you expected additional branches of law force to step in soon. And you didn't want to deal with another player on the field.

You wanted this guy. He gave you something to sharpen your attention on and the want grew in you to strike him down. It was a tumor-like revenge. The team noticed you pulled away from evening dinners and movie nights. They began murmuring their concerns among each other and then to Steve and Clint.

While looking over more crime scene photos about the Robertson case, FRIDAY announced Wanda would be making cottage pie for dinner tonight. Glancing at your watch, 3pm, you mindlessly mumbled a 'no thank you' and then froze. Slapping the desk, you knocked an empty cup over onto mission reports you've been avoiding to fill out much to Steve's annoyance.

“FRIDAY, please bring up the old police notes about cottage- about home repairs or work crews. Wait, how far back did the police look?”

“The officers went back three years, Miss. No common links appeared.”

You scanned over the photos of children and their similar ages of 6 and 7. Would he have waited for more than three years to attack? He would have known the homes' layouts, he broke in so easily to each child's bedroom. If he did wait, for how long? Why wait so long?

Your gut was rarely wrong, and the home repair angle felt like something solid, “FRIDAY, please run all the family's credit cards and bank accounts to see if there were any repair companies or purchases done within the last five years.”

Looking at the youngest victims' age, Gabrielle Reyes with her toothy smile just turned 6, “If nothing, please try six.”

An electronic chorus poured in your room as computer alerts went off, reports fired across the screen.

A description and photo of self-employed contractor photo, Randall Williams, looked back at you.

FRIDAY ran off the newly found information. The victims' families hired his company in the past four to five years. Rachel Collins' home was his last before heading out of state. He was recently released five months ago from an out of state prison for a buffet of reasons, one being incident exposure.

“Miss, I took the liberty to run his payment history. He's been paying for a storage unit over the last eight years under a different name and P.O. Box number.”

You scoffed with a mix of thankfulness for Williams' laziness of leaving a trail and a curse that the repair history was not run back further in the beginning.

“Send me the address for the storage unit and his current address please, FRIDAY. And don't forget you're beautiful!”

Snatching your leather jacket and utility bag, you ran past Steve and Clint, who were folded against one another on the couch.

“I'll be back tomorrow. Don't wait up, my loves!” You called out to them over the action movie.

Clint and Steve stared at your figure fading quickly out the door, both pairs of eyes zeroing in on your large utility bag. They turned back towards each other and exchanged a knowing look. Steve dragged his hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

Unfolding himself from Steve, Clint kissed his cheek and patted his thigh, “I'm on it.”

Picking up his keys and jacket, Clint paused and took in Steve's concerned expression. “Hey, don't worry.”

Steve only sighed again as a reply and let his head hit the back of the couch. The sound of the door locking behind Clint drowned out the explosions on screen.

—

A fresh tank of gas, a new box of protein bars and a couple bottles of water later, you pulled into the storage facility. Stretching your limbs from the two hour drive, you took in the old property. It was run down with no foot traffic or desk clerk. The only camera you could see around the buildings was pointed at the office door, lens broken.

After grabbing your leather gloves and pulling the crowbar from the trunk, you went to work on the unit's lock.

Randall Williams reminded you of New York's grandfather serial killer, Albert Fish. Breaking into the storage container and shifting through his boxes, the incriminating photos he had of known and unknown victims were simply too hard to look at.

This man, this thing, was something that needed to be put down. The police were right in calling him a boogeyman. But they didn't know the accuracy of the nickname especially since it was once bestowed to Albert Fish himself.

You hoped Williams wasn't a cannibal, yet.

The young faces looked out at you from the photographs, some with tears and others with defiance. There so many, so many unrecognizable faces. You could feel the acid burn starting to rise in your chest. For a second, you wanted to talk yourself into believing these newly discovered victims were fake snuff photos he collected along the way, but you knew better and you saw the gags. Some with the same design used on the recorded victims. This was the man you’ve been looking for, and this man was a monster.

Eyes watered and the taste of bile rose in the back of your throat. With a shaky hand, you read a recipe of brown butter and sautéed onions with human flesh. A list of spices and measurements. Your memory flashed to the little Robertson boy with questionable wound and knife markings.

Flipping through the journal you read Williams’ comments next to the favored recipes and the preferred cooking techniques.

How long has this been going on? Your eyes darted to the stacks of photos with mystery faces.

There was a strange recipe of your own growing within you; ingredients of anger, sadness, disgust, revenge.

Laying the photos out on the cement floor, you surveyed the expanding collection of tragedy. You shuffled your feet across the ground and paused before each photo. 4x6, 5x7 and 8x10’s created a paper train of frozen mementos from each child’s nightmare. On the shelf, another box of negatives caught your eye.

Monster.

Your body felt heavier with each photo; guilt and sorrow for not stopping these events from happening, even if you never knew some occurred until now. You sent out an apology and prayer in your mind for them all.

“I’m fine. Be back in a few days. Love you, see you.” You quickly sent the text to Steve and Clint. Leaving you the grim photos on the ground, you pulled the storage door closed behind you. Pointing your car west, you drove off to deliver revenge and extract other things.

Randall Williams lived outside of a small town on a neighbor-less dirt road. Parking your car a safe distance away, you quietly made your way to his neglected looking home.

The house was quiet, dark and smelled sour. The sliding door was unlocked. Flipping the safety off your gun, you slowly slid it open. Suppose monsters don't have a lot to worry about.

Closing it behind you, you immediately covered your nose with back of your hand and tried to save your sense of smell from the pungent stench. The kitchen reeked of moldy food and ignored trash. You would have thought the home was abandoned, except the mail on the counter was stamped with this week's date.

Walking around, a calendar caught your attention. Next week's dates were circled and marked, Growing Dreams Day Care- install shelving. Biting your cheek, you tried to bury down the rage.

Creeping quietly in what you assumed to be the direction of the bedroom, you gingerly opened the door with your fingertips, gun ready in your other hand. Bathroom.

Squaring your shoulders, you made your way further down the hall. The second door held the right answer. There laying on his stomach, snoring in a pair of dirty briefs was the small statured, unaware boogeyman.

Three quick fast steps into the room, you came up to the bed and kicked the mattress. “Hey! Devil's Reject!”

Randall's eyes shot open and he flipped himself over to sit up.

CRACK!

You slammed the butt of your gun on his jaw. “Hurts, don't it?”

He let out an unearthly growl and groggily scrambled up, attempting to right himself to lunge at you. Bringing your boot up and kicking him back in his sternum, his head slammed against the wall and cracked the stained plaster.

“Nighty-night, fucker,” you smashed your gun against his face again.

Grabbing his legs, you pulled his unconscious, dirty body down the hallway. Dragging him through the kitchen, you were about to set him up at the kitchen table when you saw another door.

The door creaked open and basement steps greeted you, “Bingo.”

Bringing Randall's body around, you positioned him by the stairs and let him topple down the steps without a care.

Skipping down after him, you heaved Randall's body into position. After securing him to a chair, you took the time to exam the basement and survey his workspace until he woke.

You stared almost uninterested at the bound man before you. The toe of your boot lifted the lid of his unlocked tool box and knocked it open.

“So how’s the carpentry business?” an air of indifference in your question as you reached in and pulled out several hammers before spying a box of nails.

The man only muffled and grunted against the material wrapped around his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry about that gag I suppose,” you examined the different tools in your hands, flipping them from side to side testing their weight.

“Not the same blanket you tore off for your victims, but I did make sure to grab your dirtiest work rags. So please, wet it down real good and enjoy the taste.”

Standing up, you swung the hammer around, “Ah, this is the one.”

He eyed you with hatred as he rocked and rammed his body against the ropes in hopes to loosen them. Frantic sounds erupted deep from within his chest only to be stifled by the gag, when he realized the restraints wouldn’t give.

You hummed in pleasure at the trapped animal before you.

“Girl Scouts,” you nodded toward the knots on his body, “Don’t let the cookie sales fool you, asshole. Us little Daisies grow up to be Venus flytraps later in life.”

He rocked his body forward again as you bent down and picked up the box of nails.

“Not interested in what you want to say. Plead innocent, plead guilty. Shit, I don't even care if you regret every monstrously thing you've ever did. Actually, don’t give a fuck if you don’t regret it either. All that matters is that it ends here, that you end here. I know you checked out those homes you worked on, picking out the children and then coming back for them. Like some twisted human layaway plan. That was a hell of wait, but I bet you had nothing else to think about when you were locked away. ”

Reveling in his fear, you circled him. You could practically smell the panic ooze out his pores. “Ever hear about the serial killer, Albert Fish? Preyed on kids, ate them even. You both had common interests, similar ways- he your inspiration? My gut told me within time, you'd be like him.”

Dancing your fingertips across the tops of his shoulders, you emphasized each word with a tap, “And. You're. Already. There.”

Williams knocked his head side to side, trying to shake off your touch. He glared in your direction but refused to make eye contact.

“But there's a thing you’re missing from being so very much like him. A subtle difference to some, but devil's in the detail- am I right?”

You shook the box of nails up to his ear as you leaned by his other.

“He stuck pins in his groan, 29 to be exact. They have x-rays of it. No, no, I shit you not. So we're going to improvise with these nails and recreate it on you,” you bopped him on the nose. “Artistic interpretation and all.”

Driving the nails into him with a hammer, you randomly picked spots along his inner thigh and pelvis. “Do you like astronomy? Should I make the Little Dipper?”

He howled against his restraints. Drool and hatred running down his chin. Randall passed out on nail number eight, when it was jammed into his testicle, but came back around for the thirteenth nail while you slapped him awake. He passed out again on the twenty-third nail and you carried on without your audience.

“Oh good! You're awake- again,” false happiness laced your voice. “Take a look at the new additions!”

Swiftly grabbing the back of his head, you forced him to crane his neck awkwardly downward as he tried resisting.

“Oh good god. Stop bawling already,” walking around to his front, you brought the hammer down and smashed it against his left kneecap.

More cries of anguish poured out of Randall.

Reaching back into his toolbox, you crouched down in front of him, “you only have yourself to blame- for all of this. But also because you kept passing out on me- and that… well that, gave me time to think.”

You delivered a Cheshire grin and held up a pair of pruners.

His body shook and he screamed at you through the gag as you painfully pulled down on his nailed testicles. You quickly shoved the pruners around one sweaty ball. His right nut rested between the tool's blades, the nail stuck out below. His body convulsed in pain as you smiled and began cutting into him.

Randall's shoulders involuntarily shook as he wailed incoherently. After a few minutes his shoulders fell down around him, making him smaller with the weight of defeat.

Pressing the toe of your boot into his broken kneecap, you slowly and gradually applied more pressure, “Pay attention, fuckface. There’s still more I can cut from you.”

Blood painted his cheek as you tapped his face with the pruner’s blades, You pulled down his gag and he reeled his head away.

You plucked his testicle off the floor, “Hm. Kind of looks like a weird party appetizer, meatball and blood gravy. Gore gravy? You think that sounds better? Here. Want to try?”

Twirling the hammered nail between your thumb and finger, his detached ball freckled his cheek and forehead with blood. Threads of veins and skin twirled on the air like streamers.

“Blow on it, might be hot,” you cackled at your joke.

“Fuck you!” Randall cursed through shaky, chapped lips, gaping in pained disbelief at his removed appendage.

“Tsk-tsk,” you snapped the meatball appetizer back and forth on front of his eyes. “That bad, lousy fucking attitude and those actions is what got you here, motherfucker.”

You sneered at him coldly. “Don't make me get creative. Could always skin away pieces of you and wrap them around other parts,” you dramatically cut the air with the human hors d'oeuvre and pointed at his crotch with it, “like pigs in a blanket. Foreskin's optional, you know.”

He started paling between your words and the blood loss, silently staring wide-eyed when visualizing your threat.

“Now,” you stepped between his bounded legs, “Open up, fucker. Time to try, then die.”

Pinching his cheeks, you forced his mouth open and scrapped the nail against his teeth until his ball rested in the back of his mouth. Horror filled Randall's eyes as the taste of warm iron hit his tongue.

Quickly grabbing the sides of his head, you abruptly raised your knee and slammed it up against his jaw. “Enjoy.”

A mixed sound of wet squishing and teeth cracking sang throughout the basement as Randall sobbed. The deflated testicle and pieces of teeth fell from his mouth between his hysterical wails. You leaned against the wall until his banshee screams subsided, a mask of boredom across your face.

When his shoulders stopped shaking and he settled to broken whimpers, you punched him again and slid the gag back in place between blood-coated teeth.

“And now, for our final act,” you callously taunted as you eyed his maimed and bloody crotch. Locking eyes with Randall, you jerked your chin in to the direction of his tools, “Ready?”

—

Standing before Randall's crumpled body, you heard your name float down from the top of the stairs, “Sweetheart, it’s time to go now.”

Clint silently made his way over, stepping between you and Williams’ broken corpse.

He pulled out a plastic bag from his utility vest and held it out to you with his own gloved hands.

“Meet you back at the car?” you inquired as you stuffed your bloody gloves into the bag he always provided.

“Always,” Clint kissed your forehead and tucked the soiled bag away. “Go on now, gonna do a once over here and I'll meet you. Love you.”

“Love you,” you backed away and made your way to the car.

Clint pulled out several photographs of Williams’ victims and scattered them around his corpse. Picking up the bloodied hammer, he cringed when seeing a few pubic hairs stuck to it. He promptly dropped the tool on top of the victim's photos.

When he followed you to the storage unit, he figured the photos would come in handy for what he knew you'd do next. As he resumed to tail you from the warehouse, he decided to make an anonymous tip to the police about the storage unit when you were done. He didn't want to risk any evidence showing who Randall Williams really was could be overlooked.

Back at the car, you turned up the volume and resumed listening to your audiobook. You didn't have to wait long, soon Clint tapped on your passenger window asking you to unlock the door.

Dropping into the passenger seat and assessing your appearance, Clint raised your hand to his lips for a quick kiss, “You look more content already.”

“Only because it’s over and I get to go home to you and Steve,” you smiled and cupped his face. “Thank you.”

“Never have to thank us, sweetheart.”

He rolled his cheek into the warmth of your hand. Your fingers skimmed through the top of his hair. You liked to tease that his hair felt softer with the mohawk.

Blessed is what you felt. You found a home with Clint and Steve. And they accepted your need to play judge, jury and executioner.

Clint tapped your thigh and gave it a squeeze, “Let’s get home to him, sweetheart. He’s been worried.”

He reached behind your seat and pulled out the unopened box of protein bars, “See, you plan well but then forget details like this.”

Ripping the box open, he freed a bar from its wrapper, “Eat.”

You wanted to object for a moment and say you were fine, but Clint's tone was laced with a plead, not a command.

“When we get back he'll want to feed us, you know. No one was happy you skipped another dinner.”

You chuckled at Clint's reminder about Steve's concerns and opened a bottled water, “What about your car?”

“Had FRIDAY drive itself home.”

Humming at his answer, you capped the water, “Ready?”

Clint nudged your arm and took the bottle for himself, “Yes. And tomorrow we'll have a long talk about you being more aware of your surroundings. You were so blindly driven, you didn't notice me following like you usually do.”

—

When FRIDAY announced your return home, Steve felt he could breath easy again. He knew what these kills meant to you and the sense of serenity they brought.

Determined to make your and Clint’s return as smooth as possible, he put on your favorite playlist and he spread out the 24hr takeout menus.

He heard you before seeing you, smiling at the sight of you and Clint rounding the corner. Your legs swung back and forth, head tipped back with laughter, humor staining your expressive lips as Clint gave you a piggy back ride. A smile of Clint’s own beamed across his face at Steve as he set you down.

“Hey, doll.” Not hiding his admiration for you, Steve scooped you up into a tight embrace.

“Hey, handsome.” With a kiss on his jaw, you nuzzled in closer to him.

Opening up your embrace, you both pulled Clint into the hug.

Steve pressed his forehead against Clint's temple, “Thank you for being careful and bring you both back safely.”

Clint leaned into Steve's words, “Never have to thank me.”

Steve kissed Clint soundly and turned his gaze on you, “Give me everything you need burned.”

You nodded at his request and pulled out the bloody bag.

“Weapons?”

You turned your head shyly towards Clint, and he slightly shivered as he replayed in his mind what you orchestrated in the basement.

“She used his own. Left them there with some incriminating photos. Less things to carry back,” Clint explained to Steve.

Tilting your head at Clint's mention of photos, you truly realized then just how absorbed you were for not noticing him at the storage unit. Hearing Steve call your name, you gave Clint a soft smile before turning back around.

“Alright, doll. You know the next part. Strip.”

Without a second thought to his request, you swiftly slipped out of your jacket and boots, followed by your top and pants.

“Always love this part, sweetheart, ” Clint murmured behind you.

“Me, too. She looks so pretty with that new sense of accomplishment. Don’t you, doll?”

You laughed at your boyfriends’ praises, “Gonna go shower now. We eating soon?”

“Pulled out some menus when you two got back. I was thinking that little Italian place.”

“Sounds delicious,” you left for the shower after gifting both men a slow, appreciative kiss. “Maybe come join me before the food arrives?”

Both men hummed in appreciation as they watch you walk down the hall.

“I’ll get hers. Gotta wash mine, too.” Clint offered, collecting your soiled items from Steve to bring to the laundry room and incinerator.

Clint stepped into the elevator but froze suddenly when he saw Steve holding the Italian menu.

“Steve!” Clint frantically called out, forcefully pushing the elevator doors apart. “Order mine without meatballs!”

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