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inbabylontheywept · 10 months

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That isn't a ship, it's a cannon with FTL

Aggral Thrawn’s gut was a grotesque thing to behold: Soft and distended, covered with a coarse layering of fur, a fat purple worm of a scar crossing over it’s almost spherical circumference. So vicious was the scar that even gazing upon it brought unwanted imagery of the fat ape-like creature screaming in pain, both arms working as a dam to keep the tidal wave of bloody guts from spilling out of its three-fingered fists

Yet, for all its grotesque horror, he trusted it. That same gut that had almost gotten him killed so many years before had worked hard to save him again and again after. It was what had brought him from mere gangpress, to quartermaster, all the way to the captain of his own pirate vessel.

And right now, it was telling him to call off the attack. The readings he was getting from the craft ahead made no sense. The crew space was too small, the energy readings were off the charts, and there was something almost military about it. Yet, as he looked over the hull, he couldn’t spot a single weapon. Nothing about it made sense.

The crew had enough in the larders to pass on a ship this sturdy. Even as ships on either side of him pulled forward, eager to be the first to raid the craft, he aborted the ram sequence to watch from a distance.

The crew was disappointed. It’d been too long since they’d had a good, solid fight, but they knew better than to second guess Aggral’s gut. It had earned its place as the ship’s oracle by rite of blood, and was to be respected accordingly.

---

There were only four crew aboard the USSN PMAC: Dalton Dial, in charge of weapon systems, Elizabeth Harris, in charge of navigation, and the Pratchett siblings, who worked together to keep the fifth generation fusion reactor that powered the whole abomination within some semblance of working order.

The Pratchett siblings’ love of the reactor (which they had affectionately named “Sun-Son”) was rivaled only by their hatred of the rest of the craft. Elizabeth and Dalton had more mixed feelings on the matter. Elizabeth considered the ship “Perhaps a little ridiculous on paper, but a work of military genius,” while Dalton lauded the idea as “Literally the coming of the Messiah, the only thing I prayed for my whole adulthood, and the answer to that prayer manifest, just for me, to bring me back to the flock.”

Their mixed feelings could be explained away just by describing the craft concept:

The PMAC was not a ship. It was the largest possible gun that could still be attached to an Alcubierre drive, with just enough manpower to steer, aim, and maintain the thing for long term patrols.

The prototype MAC that the life-support, thrusters, and reactor had been constructed around hadn’t even been built with space in mind. It was originally designed as a ground-to-orbit defense weapon. If it wasn’t for the capacitor bank the ship would’ve needed almost a minute between each shot to get enough power, even with the fifth generation reactor. Luckily, it could start out each battle with enough charge to fire off a salvo of four before needing to begin recharging for its next launch.

It had just such a salvo prepared for the pirate ambush that their military grade scanners had picked up minutes earlier.

Dalton was not taking the delay very well.

“With all due respect mam, I’ve had a lock on all three for almost a minute now. I could just fire and claim that I sneezed. The Pratchetts would back me up on this. Right guys?”

Emily Pratchett snorted.

“Why is it that when the weaponsmaster says ‘with all due respect’ he always means ‘fuck you for giving my stupidly giant gun blue balls?”

Thom Pratchett shrugged.

“Maybe he’d say it less if you weren’t so eager to translate it to the navigator for him.”

Elizabeth was slightly amused by the conversation. It was hard to keep things particularly formal while on a crew this small. Still, she was waiting for something. She’d gotten permission from the brass to take a new approach to fighting with the ship.

They’d proven it could win battles. Now, it was time to establish shock and awe. And as it currently stood, dead men told no tales.

Thus, they needed more living ones. And as she watched two pirate ships pull forward, with one hanging back, she knew just who’d live to pass on this particular legend. ---

Aggral watched the ships advance on his HUD, the blips crossing the thousands of kilometers between them and the strange ship in seconds. For a moment he felt regret. Was he making a mistake? Was this going to be what led to some upstart in the crew thinking they could do things better than him?

Then, the world went mad.

The power readings on the strange ship spiked. Hard. He’d thought that the baseline levels were outrageous, but they must’ve had some sort of absurd capacitor bank to expel that much energy that fast. The twin prongs that made up most of the length of the ship gave off some sort of EMP that fried the electronics of the Viscera, his sister ship, cutting off their radio traffic. His crew scrambled to find some way to regain contact when Gods of the Dead, forgive me my sins, and and forget me my debts, the actual weapon went off. The EMP hadn’t even been the attack, it had just been a side effect.

He hadn’t seen a weapon because he’d been looking for one on the hull, some kind of guardian laser, or a missile pod. He hadn’t even conceived that the whole goddamn vehicle could be the weapon. But what kind of weapon would charge up like that? A laser would just fire over a sustained period. What would need a burst like-

He stopped midthought as it hit him: A railgun.

He stopped again as it hit them: The kinetic charge would have to have been moving at almost 0.8c for it to just ignore the evasive maneuvers like that. The ferroslug itself wasn’t detected by any of their defense measures aboard, but the thermal readings of the Viscera made every infared sensor aboard scream in horror. Contact with whatever slug had hit it must’ve reduced the whole thing to plasma. It was almost inconceivable.

He was already screaming out the full retreat call when the ship fired twice in rapid succession at the Rictus, which was still recovering from what had just happened to its partner. The first shot was dead through the center. The second hit some target a few dozen meters off to the side.

A direct hit on an escape pod. Apparently, the captain had tried to save himself. Even in the mortal terror that he felt at that moment, Aggral could take a grim satisfaction at that second shot. To leave all the men that followed you to their deaths was a cowardice that he could not bear to consider. He would rather die.

And now, he was going to. Jump was fifteen seconds away, and the console was telling him that the ship was pinged. They knew where he was, they had him in their crosshairs, and they were going to pull the trigger.

He traced a finger over the purple scar absentmindedly. This was it. He’d been living on borrowed time since that first wound, and now he was to meet his ancestors.

He was ready.

---

Dalton was wincing, even as he maintained his ping on the ship. He knew that Elizabeth was just doing her job, but even by his admittedly bloodthirsty standards, there was something fucked up about keeping a ship in ping like this. It was like forcing someone to look you in the eyes before you slit their throat. Way too personal for his tastes.

Elizabeth was keeping an eye on the craft, making sure that no escape pods were jettisoning. Part of her was hoping that some would, but whatever other faults these pirates had, they were loyal to each other at least. As the ultraviolet scanners gave the telltale flair of redshift, she told Dalton to turn off the ping.

To say he was relieved was an understatement. In the middle of a firefight, he couldn’t question Elizabeth’s orders, but for the first time in a long time, he’d been afraid to pull the trigger. Now he didn’t have to.

He almost slid out of his chair as he asked the question that had been on his mind since the engagement began.

“Mam, what the hell was that?”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at her very surprised crew even as her words came out, cold as ice.

“A message.”

---

Thanks for reading this far! I'm moving my previous works from reddit to here. If you follow me, more will come. If you're impatient, you can skip to the source and read things at https://www.reddit.com/user/InBabylonTheyWept/

#humanity fuck yeah #hfy #humans are space orcs #scifi #humans are space oddities #this was the first story I wrote for the HFY subreddit #I am terrible at writing names so I just steal them #space pirates #bfg #Big Fucking Gun #science fiction

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kai-anderson-whore · 1 year

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It was my intention (kai Anderson x fem reader)

Summary: you knew kai since college and one day you and your boyfriend were in an argument so kai comforts you with an intention

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating

You sat in the bathroom of kai's home you were panicking waiting on the test results 'kai is going to kill me' you thought

You picked the test up it's positive "shit" you whispered how are you going to tell him you can't keep it a secret he's only going to find out anyway

You went down to the basement where kai was doing some council stuff you were fidgeting with the test behind you back kai could tell

"Your nervous" he said still on his laptop "no I'm not" you mumbled walking closer to him "what's wrong" he asked setting the laptop aside he knew you since college he can tell when something is wrong

With a deep sigh you slowly pull the test out "I'm pregnant kai I'm sorry it's my fault i-i" you Began to ramble before kai stopped you "it was my intention to get you pregnant" he plainly said

"What the fuck is wrong with you kai" you screamed listening to the words that came out the blue haired manic infront of you

"It was my intention" he simply shrugged you ran your hand through your hair in frustration "so it was your intention for this to happen" you laughed bitterly "yes" you can feel the anger bubbling within you he was your best friend you weren't even together and he did this

"You fucking impregnated me your best friend since college the first time I slept with you and now I'm pregnant" you started to cry hitting his chest he just wrapped his arms around your body till you calmed down

How could you calm down you already had a boyfriend and you fucked your best friend after an argument with your boyfriend and how your pregnant

"Y/n listen I need someone to carry on my legacy the cult in the future a baby my child" he said you shook your head in his chest 'unbelievable' you thought

"How could you not get someone else pregnant like meadow or something" you said kai chuckled

"Fuck having a child with meadow I chosed you because we've known each other for years and I know you want to be a mother" he looked into your eyes your face softened looking into his chocolate ones

"Your beautiful, funny, smart you don't take any of my shit christ y/n I love you" he said you were taken aback by his confession "you love me?" You asked kai nodded "ever since college"

He then kissed you his hand on your waist pulling you closer "kai I can't what about my boyfriend" you finally said

"You didn't care about him 2 weeks ago" he smirked you frowned feeling guilty

"Come on y/n he's a piece of shit you know you really love me you just tell yourself you don't cause you thought I didn't feel the same" he stated and he was right

"Just me and you and our baby" he said his hand that was on your waist now on your cheek "okay just us but I swear kai if you let our child go to your little sessions in here with the rest taking about Jim Jones and the kool aid I'll kill you" you laughed so did he it felt nice it was like he's the kai you used to know back in college the kai you loved

"Well how else will they learn to be a great leader like their father" he raised his eyebrow you playfully hit his chest "Alright you" you chucked

Kai kissed you again as the others came down to the basement for a meeting

"My beautiful girlfriend is having my messiah baby!!"

#kai anderson #kit walker #ahs asylum #kai anderson x reader #american horror story #evan peters #james patrick march #tate langdon #ahs cult #kai let me have ur messiah baby

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desudog · 5 months

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Masato 真人 . He/it. Cisgender-ish

my cohost for a slower lifestyle blogger

read and in process of reading vns:

Togainu No Chi

Sweet Pool

Dramatical Murder

Slow Damage

Hadaka Shitsuji

Koshotengai no Hashihime

Absolute Obedience

Tokyo Onmyouji (started reading but deleted a few months ago to revisit sometime...)

To read list

Beyond Eden (in library)

Saya No Uta (in library)

Seiyuu Danshi (in library)

Suki Na Mono Wa Suki Dakara Shouganai Shōganai (in library, struggling with missing font turning all text box characters into "...")

The Language of Love (in library)

The Divine Speaker (in library)

UuultraC (in library)

Enzai

Dies irae ~Acta est Fabula~

Gore Screaming Show

Anagan Oyako

euphoria

Club Suicide

Siren's Call

ChronoBox

Dialogue with Death

Ayakashi Akashi

invisible sign -Isu-

Onegai♪ Goshujin-sama!

Tenmusu!? ~Tonikaku Yoku Korobu Dojikko-tachi~

Heart Fragment

Nekoneko Mistress

puncTure

CAGE -OPEN-

Yajuu

Maggot baits

pet (dev: ikuraotome出版)

Sakura Yuki

parallel b-shadow

Lemures Blue no Gozen 2 Ji

Omega Vampire

Love Mission

Messiah

Minna de Nyan Nyan

Abdiel

24-ji, Kimi no Heart wa Nusumareru ~Kaitou Jade~

1K (dev: cocoscocos)

Ai to Yokubou wa Gakuen de ~Karei Naru Yoru no Butoukai~

Angel Knight

Akiiro Onmyouji

Akai Yoru, Hoshi no Sasayaki o Kike

Ao to Ao no Sekai

Ariard -Shounen Alice-

Silver Chaos

Artificial Mermaid -Silver Chaos II-

Aru Fukou ni Miirareta Seinen to no 7 Kakan

Ayakashi Ren'ai Kitan ~Kami-sama no Dashikata~

Bakeneko Senri wa Ai o Shiranai (you can even play it in browser)

Bokura wa Minna, Koi o Suru ~Nous Tous chute dans l'amour.~

Dareka Ore o Koroshite Kudasai.

Crying Game (dev: FUNKY☆CANDY)

CROSS script

Choukui no Hana

Dolly Night

D.Zone

Hanamachi Monogatari

Graduation ~ Sotsugyou

Hoshinagaru Sora

Kamisama no Hitsugi

Kago no Naka no Serenade

Kichiku Megane

Kimi to Koi ni Ochiru Toki

Kigagiga

Koiiro no Enogu

Kuu no Mori ~Tsuioku no Sumu Yakata~

Kuro no Tsuki Gaiden ~Gen'ya no Sho~

MAYHEM (dev: nightare syndrome)

Nie no Machi

Nonke Ippatsu Tabehoudai

Parallel World in the Dream

powdergray

Sei Crain Gakuen

Shounen-tachi no Byoutou

Stamp Out

Souten no Tobira

Tenshi-tachi no Lunch Time

Tayutau Toki

Wings Innocent

Fukushuu Teikoku

Lkyt (WHY IS IT 50 DOLLARS)

Kakurezuki

Luckydog1

Omertà ~Chinmoku no Okite~

Angel's Feather

Blue Pain ブルーペイン

Boukyaku no Numa

DRAGEE ~Tenshi no Tamago~

Friendly lab

HEAVEN ~ Tobenai Tori

Kase no Shiro (unfinished but gorgous...)

Laughter Land

Petit Fleur -Oka o Wataru Crystal no Kaze-

Qualia

RE-turn

Ryuuguu Gaimu ~Garasu no Naka no Tsubasa~

Shinkon-san ~Sweet Sweet Honeymoon~

Spring Flower

-----

Help me. I am a 8 year old boy living in the illegitimate Yankee Capitalist regime. President Xi, our shelves are empty and we are hungry. I am asking you to liberate my state of Connecticut with your Chengdu J-20 Stealth air superiority fighters and your Dongfeng 41 Missiles.

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fatmagic · 1 year

Video

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Someone To Talk To - The Screaming Blue Messiahs

#music

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delta-83 · 6 months

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My eyes are hazel.

Green on the rims,

And brown in the center.

I tilt my head one way,

They sparkle.

Tilt it the other way,

There's not a single glint.

At least that's what the mirror shows.

The mirror doesn't lie, right?

Yet it doesn't show her,

The one who whispers into my left ear.

The child lays dead on the floor,

Afraid of being gutted.

The messiah continues to be silent,

Perhaps they've already been silenced.

And there sits the queen,

High on the throne.

My tears, her water,

My blood, her wine.

She leans in close and whispers,

Getting closer every day.

Am I becoming her?

What have I gotten myself into?

The cycle continues once again,

Right in the cursed month of February.

All my fault,

Yet now it's something new.

Room full of blue,

Flooded with a smokey haze.

With candlelights glowing,

And an ambience like none other.

My heart screams out,

To cry and weep the tragedy.

Yet… I instead smile and grin.

Is this healing or hysteria?

On the 99th day,

I suppose I'll know.

But until then,

I'll just wait.

I'll gaze into the mirror,

Right into my hazel eyes,

Searching for what lies behind them.

Searching for her glint.

#poem #poetry #female poets

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mywifeleftme · 7 months

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163: Brittany Howard // Jaime

Jaime Brittany Howard 2019, ATO

I’ve probably never given Alabama Shakes their fair [you get it], but they always struck me as music for people who comment on Allman Brothers YouTube videos about How Much Better Things Used To Be. The Shakes are clearly excellent musicians and Brittany Howard a powerful vocalist, but somewhere in the gap between their southern blues rock roots and Teflon ‘10s production my interest dies. Not so with Howard’s 2019 solo bow Jaime, a record that [you get it again]s off her other project’s revivalist moves in favour of a deconstructed soul sound that at last adopts a contemporary perspective. As a result, people have tagged this thing with more genres than it has songs. I think on the whole that that mistakes texture for structure. Jaime draws from a familiar well of related, mostly Black genres (funk, blues, jazz, soul), but it’s made by a musician who shares the internet’s postmodern magpie sensibilities when it comes to how to record them.

youtube

Our present is a temporal echo chamber, haunted by futures which did not come to pass, the artefacts of the past haphazardly juxtaposed with those of the present. We gauge the proximity of historical events by their medium’s degree of decay (tape hiss, cylinder crackle, glitching), while at the same time incorporating the aesthetics of that decay into new cultural production. Our sense of sequence is confused, and Jaime is a product of that experience. Ballads of timeless, elemental simplicity (“Georgia,” “Run to Me”) sound like they’re playing on a boombox in a vast, ruined warehouse; self-love sermon “13th Century Metal” is couched in modal jazz by way of a dial-up modem scream. Howard’s songwriting is great enough to stand on its own without these trappings, but it’s her production that elevates Jaime into one of the most impressive debuts in recent memory.

There are precedents for Howard’s solo sound of course. D’Angelo’s neo-(neo-?)soul Black Messiah has been specifically cited in reviews, and I can see correlations in Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly and Erykah Badu, but it’s Robert Glasper (all over the latter half of the album as a sideman) who might be the clearest antecedent. Glasper staked out this sound as early as 2012 with his Black Radio series, but original as they were musically they lacked the kind of orienting star persona Howard brings to the table. Glasper is a contemporary jazz musician (and a fully institutionalized one) dabbling in hip-hop, and he’s forced to make do with mostly third-rate bars from rap collaborators to get his broad talking points about Black music across. Howard is a single and singular voice, committed to a vision that can be searingly personal, and as a result Jaime fully actualizes a sound that is tangled up in conceptual baggage on Glasper’s own records.

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Howard has been relatively quiet since Jaime, releasing a mildly diverting remix of the LP in 2021 and showing up for a feature here and there. I look forward to whatever she does next, but I don’t mind her taking her time: Jaime still rewards the time I take with it.

163/365

#brittany howard #'10s music #robert glasper #soul #r&b #alabama shakes #music review #vinyl record #queer music #female musicians

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cepetriwrites · 8 months

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Miraculous Lady Knight

A/N: This fic is inspired by a prompt from @hi-imgrapes. "knight in shining armor Kagami x Princess Chloe but with sass"

I hope you like this. This is probably much more historical than you expected.

~~~~

A/N: I'm only on season 3 of ML, but every character is living in 12th century france so does canon even matter at this point? ~~~~ Princess Chloe of the Capetian Dynasty is on her way to marry her beloved Adrien of Toulouse. Escorted by an entourage of knights to ensure she arrives to her destination safely. When unexpected events occur, Chloe will be left with only one knight to protect her. Kagami, an onna-musha, must now transverse hundreds of miles of unfamiliar territory, avoiding bandits and kidnappers, to deliver Princess Chloe, the most spoiled person she has ever met, to her betrothed. The biggest challenge for the duo? Trying not to kill each other before arriving.

Read Here

***

Chapter One: Utterly Ridiculous!

The year is 1142. It is the fifth year of the reign of King Louis VII of France. Tensions are rising in his kingdom, and he is at war. He hopes to gain an ally through his sister’s upcoming marriage.

***

“Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe angrily strode through the castle hall, her lady’s maid trailing behind her. Two footmen stood outside her brother’s chambers, one attempted to stop her, but the girl paid no attention to them, and threw open the solid oak doors. No one, especially a lowly servant, could command her, she was a princess after all. A princess on a warpath.

“Louis!” She screamed, turning into the private offices.

“Mon Dieu, I told you not to let her in!” Cried the target of her rage, who was sitting at a desk, surrounded by his advisors.

A man wearing the simple adornments of a monk stepped forward to intercede, “My Lady, His Majesty is too busy-”

“Zip it monk!” Chloe strode up to the ornate desk, slapping her hands on it, “What is the meaning of this betrayal, brother?”

Her brother sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead, as though he was trying to banish a headache, “Chloe I am dealing with affairs of the estate, I do not-”

“This is an affair of the estate! And it is more pressing and important than whatever charter your balding advisors are droning on about.” The comment earned her disgruntled murmurs from the men in the room.

“I am at war with the Pope!”

“And you will still be at war with the Pope next week, whereas I will be heading for Toulouse before the end of this week.” How dare her brother let his petty grievances impact the most momentous time in her life!

“Chloe-” Louis tried to interrupt her ranting.

“I was in my quarters supervising Lady Sabrine’s supervision of the maids packing my things and imagine my surprise when I learned I will not be making a detour to Champagne to purchase a new wardrobe. No, my brother Louis, King of the Franks, intends to send me to my future husband in rags!”

“You are wearing a bliaut made of the finest wool!” He gestured to her clothes, punctuating his attempt at a counter-argument.

The Princess looked down at her dress, a navy-blue pleated tunic with a flowing skirt and trumpet sleeves. A girdle made of silver accentuated her waist. She looked back up at her brother, “This is used Brother. You want me, Princess Chloe Capet, to WEAR A USED DRESS AT MY WEDDING?”

The advisors flinched at the girl’s shrieking voice, the King considered his sister for a moment, deciding on the best reply. “I must go pray.” He stood up and with a speed not quite dignified for the King of the Franks, hurried out of the room.

Chloe gathered her skirts and followed after him, “You cannot avoid me, Louis! I know where the chapel is!” Not God would not be able to spare Louis from her wrath. Why, if the Messiah had His Second Coming in this moment, Chloe knew He would take her side after seeing how badly Louis was neglecting her needs.

The King and Princess were trailed by their servants and companions, every courtier they passed stopped and bowed or curtsied in acknowledgment of the royals. Neither paid them any mind to court attendees. Louis was solely focused on seeking shelter in the chapel, gripping his rosary in his right hand, already muttering a prayer under his breath. Chloe was solely focused on berating her brother until he reversed his selfish decision.

“Why are you praying so much? You’re under an interdict.” Chloe reminded her brother.

“The interdict bans me from Church and receiving sacraments, not private prayer.” He said in an irritated voice, he was still smarting from being unable to take Communion on Sunday.

“You spend too much time in chapel, you’re not going into an ecclesiastical career anymore you know. You do not have to meet a daily quota.”

“I find it enriching.” Louis replied.

“You know what you should find enriching? Spending time in Eleanor’s chambers.” She saw her brother turn a flushed red of embarrassment that made the Princess want to roll her eyes. “To do… what your are implying… on a holy day is a sin against God.” Despite being a King, he acted as though he was a monk. Chloe knew of no other person who faithfully followed adhered to the sanctioned days of procreation the way Louis did.

“And that is why you’ve been married for five years and have zero heirs.” Some courtiers whispered about the failing of his wife, but there was not much she could do when her husband visited her once a week, when she was fortunate.

“This is not an appropriate subject for a lady.”

“Producing heirs? That is the most important role of a lady, and I intend to perform my duty well, which is why I need to go to Champagne!” If my husband is as devout as Louis is, she thought to herself, I am getting an annulment.

“Enough Chloe!” Louis snapped, unable to handle the impropriety of being criticized about his bedroom habits by his unmarried sister. Even though someone had to do it.

“Good morrow dear husband and sister,” a lively voice cut in, both heads turned to see Louis’ wife, Queen Eleanor, the Duchess of Aquitaine approaching with her own retinue of ladies-in-waiting. “It is nice to see you two spending time together before our dear sister Chloe departs for her wedding.”

Chloe sniffed, letting fake tears well up in her eyes. Louis loved pleasing his wife, in some ways, she intended to use her against him, “Well I hate to disappoint you sister, but we may as well cancel the wedding, since my brother wants to disgrace me by sending me in tatters!” She started bawling dramatically, and her ever attentive lady’s maid quickly dabbed at her eyes.

“Don’t cry my lady!” she fretted, almost as distraught as Chloe.

“We are not cancelling the betrothal!” King Louis said, real fear in his voice. He turned to one of his advisors, “Find my mother, tell her it’s happening again.” The advisor started hurrying down the hall to fetch the Dowager Queen.

“Did Father force Eleanor to be dressed in rags when you married her?” Chloe asked, her voice wavering as tears continued to well in her eyes.

Louis looked at his wife beseechingly, his wife took sympathy and stepped in to placate her sister-in-law. “Chloe you are aware this situation is different.” Chloe tried not to scowl at the traitor to women’s needs. Where was the solidarity?

She sniffed, “I am not! Why should Louis’ tiff with the Pope impact my travel to Champagne? It’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

Eleanor’s brows furrowed in confusion, “Chloe, you are aware of the situation, are you not?” Of course she was! She had been hearing her brother complain about the Pope’s actions all week. It had made for a boring week at court.

Chloe waved her hand, “Yes, the Pope appointed a new Archbishop of Bourges, some Pierre or Jacques, you hated him, and shouted over a bunch of dusty objects-”

“Holy relics!” Louis corrected; it was so easy to rile him up.

“-That you would never enter Bourges if Pierre does. The Pope responded by banning you from taking Communion. But,” Chloe continued with feigned innocence, “that sounds solely like a you problem, does it not brother?”

Eleanor let out a small laugh, before catching her husband’s eyes and covering her mouth. Louis was anxiously thumbing at his rosary, probably praying for deliverance from his hot-tempered sister. His prayers appeared to be answered when an older voice came ringing out from the end of the hall, “Chloe! Why am I hearing about you threatening to break a proposal?”

Chloe scowled at her brother’s retreating figure. She had a chance of wearing down her brother Louis, he was better suited for silent prayer than handling his sister’s temper tantrums, but their mother? Adeliade of Maurienne had helped to rule France for over twenty years, she was a formidable force, and seething with rage as she walked towards her daughter. “My chambers, now.”

Chloe sighed; she should’ve sent Sabrine after that pompous advisor and had him shoved down a flight of stairs. Next time she would not make that mistakes.

***

Despite the dressing down her mother administered, the Princess still attempted a few more times to badger her brother into letting her visit Champagne. The Dowager Queen had any letters she attempted to write to her betrothed about the direness of the situation intercepted. Her mother was taking no chances, Chloe had ended betrothals in the past, though that was the fault of her parents and brother’s ridiculous matchmaking. She was a princess; she should be married to another prince or king. Chloe was not unreasonable, she was amenable to marrying a noble who possessed sizeable influence and land, but she still had standards! They had to be attractive, Chloe would not suffer through childbirth only to give birth to ugly babes. Intelligent, wealthy, fashionable, not too pious, she did not want to live as Eleanor did, having a monk for a husband. And of course: location, location, location. She would not live anywhere too cold, too muggy, if the cuisine was too disgusting, or if the language was too inferior or ugly. At one point her father had considered marrying her to some Hungarian duke or count, Chloe had put an end to that. Between the obnoxious accents and the insufferable amount of paprika, she would’ve thrown herself off the highest tower in her home if she had moved there. It was not her fault the diplomat, a grown man of five-and-thirty, left in tears. His employer should have picked a more fortified man for the job.

Her father had died before finding her a suitable husband. King Louis the Fighter was no match for his daughter’s will. He had made the task harder for himself after arranging the match between his ward, Eleanor to her older brother Louis. Her sister-in-law was the Duchess of Aquitaine in her own right, possessing one-third of France at the time of their marriage. Louis had received the best in Europe for his wife. A wife he was not even supposed to have. Their oldest brother Philip had died six years earlier in an utterly ridiculous and undignified manner, Chloe did not like to think about, making monk Louis the new Dauphin.

If Louis had married the best, then she would marry the best. Her brother had finally succeeded where their father had failed. He had arranged an acceptable betrothal between her and the heir to Toulouse. It was only a county, but the man in line to inherit more than made up for the lack of a crown.

Adrien was the most handsome man in France, likely Europe. Chloe decided he would be her husband when she laid eyes on the portrait of him that Count Gabriel, Adrien’s father, had sent. They had met a few times before, but it had been a few years since the now reclusive Count had ventured to Northern France with his son. The years had been excellent to Adrien. He had flowing blond hair the color of gold and dazzling green eyes. Chloe was determined to get a necklace fitted with emeralds to match them. His green bliaut was moderately fitted over his chest. He was reported to be a knight of excellent skill and strength, Chloe wished his tunic had been tighter. She wanted to see the effect all the years of knight training had had on his glorious physique.

A young, attractive, wealthy knight for a husband? Every lady at court, with their husbands twice their age, that had whispered about her being unmarriable would soon explode into fits of rage. In a few years they would be lining up, fighting to marry their children to the little Adonis’ and Aphrodites’ a union between her and Adrien would surely create. Chloe could hardly wait.

Her beloved had started exchanging letters after their engagement. He was a poet, well-educated, and adored her. Chloe had finally been matched with a man who was her equal on every level. Marrying the perfect man meant having the perfect wedding, which meant getting to buy new perfect clothes at the best fairs, which were in Champagne.

The Queen Mother had not appreciated this sound logic, “I am at a loss for words Chloe!” She snapped! Despite being at a loss for words, she lectured me for half an hour, Chloe had thought to herself.

“Unless your trip to Champagne fixes the damage your brother has done to please his wife, you will not go!” Her mother had finished the lecture, then sent her to her chambers to finish packing. Louis grew a backbone, spurred on by their mother’s support, and continued to refuse her, the times when Chloe could corner him. Louis spent so much time in the chapel, he may as well have his bed moved there.

“Chloe!” Louis snapped a day before she was set to leave, the monk had finally reached his breaking point with his obstinate sister. “I am your King, you do not order me around! You will travel to straight to Toulouse and marry Adrien with a smile on your face. You will not whine. You will not throw a tantrum. And you will. Not. Go. To. Champagne! THAT! IS! FINAL! Do you understand?”

Chloe pursued her lips, finally acquiescing, “Yes Louis…”

“…For the last time Ser Bruel, the King has ordered for me to go to Champagne to outfit my wardrobe for my wedding. We detour to Champagne then bring me to Toulouse, do you understand?”

“His Majesty ordered you were to be brought straight to Toulouse Your Highness.” The leader of her escort replied firmly, he was riding along Chloe’s carriage on a chestnut mare in full armor. Chloe had waited till her entourage had left Paris before informing him of the new travel itinerary.

Her lady’s maid Sabine leaned forward, bristling with fake indignity, “Ser Bruel! He only said that because of the tumultuous situation in Champagne! Count Theobald is still angry about the King allowing his sister Eleanor to be repudiated. We have to maintain a low-profile because of the bad blood between the two of them. It twas a ruse Ser Bruel!”

Chloe watched the furry caterpillars Ser Bruel called eyebrows draw so close together they almost touched. His mind has probably never had to work so hard, she thought with disdain. “Her Majesty does not have a brother.” He finally said.

Both Sabine and Chloe groaned, they planned for Ser Bruel’s dimwittedness to help aid them in their subterfuge, not stall it. “Not Eleanor of Aquitaine! Eleanor of Champagne you twit! Does Sabine need to draw you a family tree?” She snapped angrily, earning a sharp look from her guard. As though he didn’t deserve it!

“The King is ending his marriage with the Queen to marry Eleanor of Champagne? But she’s married to the Count of Vermandois.” Chloe thumped her head against the wall of her carriage, the names of the nobility were wasting storage space in the man’s mind.

Sabine procured her portable writing table and started sketching a visual aid for the knight. “Ser Bruel it’s simple. The King is married to Eleanor of Aquitaine, recently he allowed Her Majesty’s sister, Petronilla, to marry his cousin Count Raoul of Vermandois.”

“Count Vermandois already has a wife.” Ser Bruel interjected while Chloe tried not to scream.

Sabine nodded patiently, “King Louis allowed Count Vermandois to put aside his first wife, Eleanor, who is the sister of Count Theobald of Champagne.” Ser Bruel nodded, though Chloe was not confident the oaf truly understood. Sabine continued, “Now His Majesty is fighting with the Pope and Count Theobald, he gave permission to her Highness Chloe to attend the fairs in Champagne, but discreetly, no one should know we were there.”

“I’m sorry milady, I can only follow direct orders from the King.”

Sabine shoved a folded piece of parchment out the carriage window towards Ser Bruel. “Will a written note suffice?” She asked curtly, Chloe had trained her well.

The knight inspected the royal wax seal, read the letter, slowly, eventually folding it, and handing it back to Sabine. “Very well,” he said, “we are headed for Champagne. Princess?”

“Yes?” Chloe replied sweetly.

“This will be a quick detour.” He stated firmly.

“Obviously Ser Bruel.” Chloe closed the curtains to her carriage window, tired of dealing with slow-witted knights. She gave a conspiratorial smile to Sabine. The lady’s maid had been lacking when she first joined Chloe’s court but had quickly risen to the high standards the Princess had laid out. A devoted, hard-working servant, who was exceptionally talented at penmanship…

Chloe opened the locket which contained a miniature portrait of her beloved Adrien, gazing lovingly at her future husband. In only a few weeks Adrienkins, you will be mine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This prompt was suggested over a year ago and I've been super busy and felt bad about taking so long to get to it. Now I'm finally working on it! But listen, look at me, I'm in school, I've got a test about gas exchange in two weeks. I may not be able to update consistently, but come hell or high water this fic will be finished. Have patience dear readers. xoxo ~~~~ I didn't want to do any world building so I decided to choose a time period based on a historical figure and set the story there so I could research any world building. Two documentaries later and I'm trying to pigeon-hole every reference to Eleanor of Aquitaine possible. I can't tell you how fun it is trying to weave real world historical events into this story. ~~~~ Historical Reference: - Louis was not the oldest son and so was trained for a church career, as a result he was incredibly devout. - Eleanor really owned Aquitaine in her own right after her father died - Yes the Catholic Church used to have restrictions on what days it was okay to have sex! - "at war" might be inaccurate but Louis did fight with the Pope - Yes Louis really did allow a Count to divorce his wife to marry Eleanor's little sister. Eleanor encouraged this and it did not go over well! @Petronilla, go girlboss! - the county of Champagne had fairs where goods were sold that made it a commericial hub in europe! - Adrien is not the count of toulouse, but Louis' real life sister did marry the count of toulouse!

#miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #chloe bourgeois x kagami #chloe bourgeois #kagami tsurugi #historical au #historical fiction #eleanor of aquitaine #12th century france #lesbian romance #enemies to lovers #knight in shining armor #mine #Miraculous Lady Knight #writers on tumblr #adrien agreste

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mrminority · 9 months

Text

The Fallen Messiah (07/27/23 - 07/30/23 )

“Is he in position?” Commissioner Underhill asked.

“Affirmative,” the radio blared back. “Operative Neptune is in position.”

The commissioner paused, looking at his squad. He faced about a dozen men, the last known line of defense against the powerful enemy on earth. If they went through with this, there would be no turning back. Most of them wouldn’t come home.

It didn’t have to end like this.

The commissioner looked at Captain Muschietti, who gave a nod. He knew what was at stake. They all did.

Commissioner Underhill solemnly raised the radio back up. His breathing heavy, he said, “Commence the operation. Give us as much time as you can.”

“Copy that. It’s been an honor gentleman.”

Outside the city, several military troops were concealed in the forests. Each soldier clenched their firearm tightly as the explosive charge was armed. They had set a kill box, establishing a perimeter miles away from Utopian City. Snipers were perched upon the hills, searching the skies. Tanks were scattered across the field, some standard, others fitted with experimental sonic weaponry. It wouldn’t be enough.

Breathing a heavy sigh, General Miller looked to the stars one last time. “May God help us all,” he said before pushing the detonator.

Commissioner Underhill heard the explosion go off in the distance. If he could hear it from here, so could she. Suddenly, he felt the very air around him being ripped apart as something flew over him, the wind of its velocity piercing him with the cold.

Once it was gone, Commissioner Underhill looked up at the contrails left behind and saw them leading toward the distant forest. Good. She was taking the bait. Paragon was leaving the city.

“All right people, we don’t have much time, so get your asses moving!” he ordered.

“You heard the commissioner,” Captain Muschietti said. “Move it, men! Go, go, go!”

Private Ramirez opened the manhole and was the first to go down. Next was the tech Baker, followed by the rest of the soldiers and Captain Muschietti. Commissioner Underhill was the last to go down into the sewers. He wanted to take a look at the city that had been his home for nearly fifty years. He hope he would see it for another.

Commissioner Underhill climbed down into the sewers, where the others were waiting for him. Turning on his flashlight, he looked at his surroundings. Miles of underground passageways into and out of the city. Good for a sewer. Better for a criminal network. One could make their way from one end of the city to the other, and none would be the wiser. That would be how they got to the Eisenburg Labs, their final hope.

Private Ramirez pulled out the map and lead the group down the sewage system. None of them knew how fast they needed to be. How loud their footsteps were. Hell, she could be listening to their heartbeats. His was beating out of his own chest. Private Ramirez regained composure, shaking off that moment of panic. He had to do it. The entire world had one shot, and they couldn’t miss.

—-

General Miller sat inside his tank, waiting. He gazed at the monitors before, hoping to pick up at least a flash of her. So were the soldiers, frantically looking at the empty sky.

One sniper, Graves, was perched on a cell tower. He and his spotter Hanks had a view of the city. They watched it as the charges went off and saw a glimpse of red and white fly out of the city, but just as soon as they saw it, it was gone.

“You got eyes on her, Hanks?”

“No,” he replied, voice stern. “She could be anywh—” he was cut off when his field of view was suddenly filled with a floating woman, donned in a crimson red and a blinding white. She looked upon the two men, a look of pity on her face.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Paragon said, her eyes turning a cold blue. The soldiers hardly anytime to scream before she blasted them with the heat of a dying star, cutting through them instantly. Her laser vision had also cut through the steel frame of the cell tower, causing it to slowly fall apart.

Gunfire was now raining upon Paragon, the bullets bouncing off of her skin like rain on a poncho. She sighed, gripping the lean cell tower and ripping off the top of it. Lifting it above her head, she then hurled it at a group of troops, crushing them into a red smear on the grass.

More soldiers began to emerge from the forest, guns ablaze in a futile effort. Paragon’s ears picked up the sound of a rocket being locked into place. Before the RPG even had time to fire, she was behind the soldier’s back, stabbing through him with her hands as the blade. Ripping the rocket out of the launcher, she then hurled it at an incoming tank, the explosion lighting up the battlefield.

Seemingly more and more troops were being churned out of the woods, tanks rolling in nonstop. General Miller looked at the carnage on the battlefield. Men he had known since the prime of his life were bursting into red mist, being cut in half, or crushed in a tomb of metal. He knew they were ants to her. She was flooding the anthill and every ant was rushing out to give their all. A noble cause, but ants nonetheless.

General Miller ordered the tanks to surround her while his men got her into position. She was flying between them, landing blow after blow with a soldier falling with each strike. Right before her fist could claim another victim, she was staggered back by a tank round. She quickly lasered it, but then another round shot at her back. Before she could turn around to destroy it, other tanks began firing, unleashing a nonstop assault of artillery.

Each round was like a shove to her, pushing a pulling in every direction as they encircled her. As round after round hit, Paragon fell to her knees. This wouldn’t kill her, and they knew that. Nevertheless, it was keeping Paragon from her city.

She flew up into the air and back towards the cell tower. Ripping it apart, she fashioned them into makeshift javelins, throwing them with speed and precision as they pierced not only the tank but the driver inside. By the time the cell tower was nearly gone, half of the tanks had been destroyed.

Still midair, Paragon looked at the remaining tanks. Guns trained on her, General Miller ordered another volley of artillery. Yet, before the bullets could land, she was gone.

“Does anyone have a visual on her?” General Miller asked. No response came in. The forest was silent. The remaining troops looked around in confusion. Paragon had simply vanished from the battle.

“We needed her here, dammit! Get a visual on Paragon!” he demanded, seething with rage. As the order left his tongue, a crack thundered in the air as Paragon returned. She had flown around the world to turn herself into a bullet, shooting through the last of their tanks. Explosions rang out as she decimated his forces, soldiers left screaming in terror as she picked them off one by one.

Finally, all that remained was General Miller, trapped beneath the wreckage of his own tank. Paragon flew down, landing just beside him. She crouched down and dismay crossed her face.

“How are you feeling general?” she asked solemnly.

Through gritted teeth, he replied, “Just peachy.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, her eyes starting to glow. “It’ll be over soon. You’ll meet our god.”

General Miller lifted a walkie-talkie from his belt. “I’ll see you in hell,” he spat out. “Bring in Operative Neptune. Now!”

Paragon looked confused before something tackled her at a speed that rivaled her own. Slamming her face in the dirt and dragging her across the ground, the unseen figure put all their weight onto her, forcing her deeper and deeper into the earth.

Summoning her strength, she let out a burst of her laser vision that exploded the ground beneath them, knocking them both back. Paragon quickly collected herself as she looked upon her new foe: Quetzalcoatl, the champion of Mexico and adorned in his serpent headdress. Her old friend, the feathered serpent god of the seas, stood tall and ready to fight.

Paragon put her hands out. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Emiliano.”

Quetzacotal looked at his former friend with contempt. Brandishing his obsidian-embedded wooden club, the Macuahuitl, Quetzalcoatl said, “With the tyranny you placed over the people you’ve sworn to protect, with the friends you’ve killed and the lives you’ve taken, yes, it most certainly does.” Spreading his wings, Quetzalcoatl charged Paragon and the two clashed.

As they fought, General Miller lay dying on the battlefield. Trapped, he could only look on as the fate of the free world hung in the balance. As his heart stopped and his lungs shuddered, General Miller smiled. “Give ‘em hell Emiliano.”

In all the years Paragon knew Quetzalcoatl, she had never once questioned his strength. Back then, she didn’t think she needed to. Now, she was realizing how much Emiliano could pack a punch. For the first time since the age of villains, she felt the impact of his punches. She felt the weight of his club. She felt the wind getting knocked out of her by a single kick.

As they tore apart the forest, they traded blow after blow. Quetzalcoatl swung the Machuauitl into Paragon’s side, nearly knocking her to her feet. She retaliated by sweeping his legs and, before he was even on the ground, lasering him into a few dozen trees. She flew over and struck down at him, hammering her fists into him, forming a crater as she did.

Quetzalcoatl managed to catch the next punch, slamming his head into hers and flying both of them into the air. He threw her back down and flew higher into the sky. He then came crashing back down, swinging the Machuauitl down onto her head. She caught the weapon, knocking him back with a punch.

He got to his feet, quickly swinging at Paragon’s head. She sidestepped his next few blows, before catching the Machuahuitl and kicking him away from his own weapon. She lifted the club high above her head, and slammed it down on her knee, obliterating it.

With an enraged cry, Quetzalcoatl uprooted a tree and swung it as an even larger club. It knocked her deeper into the woods. Quetzalcoatl flew after her, uprooting another tree and bringing it down on her body. Before she could even get up, the trunk slammed into her, forcing her back down. Quetzalcoatl hit her again and again and again, unrelenting his advance.

Paragon managed to grab the trunk and crush it in her fist, but Quetzalcoatl just knocked her back down with his own. He knelt down, pounding her face into the dirt.

“You were the best of us!” he yelled, striking another punch across her face.

“You were a gift from the stars!” Another punch.

As the blow landed, Paragon’s body shook. She let the words sink in and submitted herself to the beating. She knew she had failed them in some way. She could see and hear the fear, the disappointment, all around the world. Deep down, she knew what she was.

“A hero of the people turned monster of the earth.!” Before the next punch could be thrown, Paragon caught his fist, rising into the air.

“No,” she said, crushing his knuckles in her vice grip. “I am their messiah.”

—-

The team entered Eisenburg Labs and followed the tech Baker. Baker was a former employee of Eisenburg Labs, having developed sonic weapons to weaken Paragon in the early days. The CEO Mark Eisenburg would battle her constantly. Each defeat meant more weeks in the lab, toiling away until they made something that could defeat Paragon. They came close once, and that weapon was their only hope now.

They made their way to the basement and, using his old security clearance, entered the basement facility that housed a complex work of machinery. It was large, taking up nearly the entire room. They had constructed it in the shape of a cube, the best way to compact bits of hardware, circuit boards, and other organs needed for a mechanical body. The Cohen was built in layers, each just as complex as the last. Easier for repairs that way. It was beautiful.

“Mind telling me what I’m looking at Bradley?” Captain Muschietti asked.

“This, captain, is my finest work,” Baker replied. “A weapon to strike god out of the heavens: The Cohen.”

“Before Paragon threw my employer into the sun, he had us construct this, a device built to amplify the sounds of a bustling city such as Utopian. We were hoping that the everyday noise of such a bustling metropolis if amplified enough, would render Paragon catatonic just by the sheer intensity of the sound.”

“Jesus, you built a speaker to kill the most powerful woman on earth?”

“This speaker,” Baker said coldly, “could decimate the entire city and kill everyone in it.”

Private Ramirez’s eyes widened. “That would cost millions of lives!”

“And Paragon has the potential to kill millions more!” Baker snapped. “No one should have the power she wields. Eisenburg knew it the day she flew into the city and announced herself the hero of tomorrow. We were merely leveling the playing field.”

Captain Muschietti put a hand on Ramirez’s shoulder. “His boss may have been a lunatic, but given where we are, he’s got a point.”

“She wasn’t always like this.”

The others turned towards Commissioner Underhill, who sat on a desk, head in his hands. “I knew her the longest. Before I came to you all, I was the commissioner of a small town in Iowa. Her name was Anne Calle. There she would stop small crimes, volunteer at the community center, and give the kids free rides. Real samaritan work.”

He sighed. The memories were coming back in. He remembered the days of his youth, days spent in the sunshine and greener pastures. He smiled as he remembered his first meeting with the young hero. She had a small cat in her arms and gently floated down in front of the police station, nervously asking if anyone knew who it belonged to. They became friends soon after.

Those were simpler times. Times where she encouraged her community. Times where she taught her criminals how to be better people. Times before she flew to the big city with big hopes of helping the whole world. Times before Zealot.

“You remember Zealot, right?” he asked.

“The cultist nutjob with the freaky mind powers?” Captain Muschietti asked. “Yeah. He tortured the Guardians and then killed himself, why?”

“Turns out, he came from her hometown. He was her priest. He told her that she was God’s gift to the world and she was the chosen messiah to save it.”

Commissioner Underhill waved the dead man off. “I attribute her folks to her goodwill more than that church, but when he died, she came back home and confided in me. Said that his last words to her were ‘You failed me.’ Those words haunted her and she felt failure for the first time. She felt how could she be blessed with these gifts if she couldn’t save everyone.”

“I told her, no, it wasn’t your fault. I told her that some people were beyond saving and put their hurt onto the world. But the little girl from Iowa refused to see that. She wanted to save everyone.”

Commissioner Underhill sighed. “The next day, my friend threw Mark Eisenburg into the sun and told the world that God would save him.”

The group was silent for a few moments, reminiscing about the times the commissioner spoke of. Captain Muschietti approached Commissioner Underhill, meeting his eyes.

“There was no doubt she was a hero, but the key word is was. We’ve got to stop her, whatever it takes.”

Commissioner Underhill nodded. He lifted himself up off the chair and walked over to Baker. “How does it work.”

“Well, by pushing this button and using data collected over the past twenty years, the Cohen will —,”

He was cut off mid-sentence as Paragon came crashing through the floor, rushing forward and grabbing the tech by the throat. Captain Muschietti, Private Ramirez, and the other soldiers all drew their guns and fired upon her. The bullets doing nothing, Paragon hurled Baker into the soldiers’ crosshairs, shredding him apart.

“No!” Captain Muschietti screamed, firing another round at her. She remained hovering in mid-air, hands up.

“I’ll give you one chance to save yourselves,” she said.

“Go to hell!” Private Ramirez yelled, dumping his mag as he let out another volley of fire.

Eyes glowing blue, Paragon said, “For what it’s worth, I hope you don’t.” before cutting them all down.

Once they were all dead, she landed on the ground, surveying the carnage. Without even turning around, she said, “Stop where you are Rob.”

Commissioner Underhill stopped in his tracks, mere inches from the button to the Cohen. “Hey, kid,” he greeted, like old times. “How’s Emiliano?”

Not meeting his eyes, she replied, “He’s in a better place now.”

“So that makes you the last Guardian, huh?”

“Rob, please don’t,” Paragon said. “You’re making this harder than it already is.”

“Oh, I’m the one making this hard, Anne?” he scoffed. “Look around you. Men, women, husbands, wives, fathers, and mothers are all dead because of you.”

“All saved because of me!” she snapped. She covered her mouth, ashamed. “I’m sorry. Rage is a deadly sin. Cuts you off from empathy.”

“Empathy? Is that what this is?”

“What does the box do, Rob?”

Commissioner Underhill sighed. “It’s supposed to kill you.”

Paragon put her face in her hands, grabbing tufts of hair. He could hear a heavy exhale come from deep within as she vented at the situation before her. “Is that what’s it come to then?”

“I suppose it has.”

She stifled a laugh. “Now if I was angry, Rob, I’d kill you right where you stand,” she said, eyes wild. “Like a villain would. But I’m a hero. I have to save everyone. I will save everyone, in this life or the next.”

Commissioner Underhill shook his head solemnly. “Anne, you’re not saving anyone. You’re not a messiah giving people up to God for him to rescue. You was always an empathetic person, but this isn’t you, Anne. This isn’t empathy, this is rage.”

“Rage?” she asked. “What could I possibly be mad about? The villains are gone. The people are safe. I’ve done my job and will continue to do so. I am perfectly content.” She said all this with a quivering smile. Her face twitched as she tried to suppress it, tears forming in her eyes.

“What Zealot did to you and the other Guardians, it wasn’t right. You didn’t fail him, he failed you and everyone else.”

“I did fail Rob! I failed him!” she screamed. “My own neighbor, my own priest, and I couldn’t save him.”

“You didn’t fail him Anne, you failed us!” Rob yelled back. “You failed us the moment you threw Eisenburg into the sun.”

Paragon finally looked up at him, her face red and eyes sunken with grief. Her shoulders trembled as she looked on her friend and neighbor, a person she feared she couldn’t save.

Commissioner Underhill sighed. “I thought you were going to be okay when you flew back home. I thought you were going to wear that bright smile of yours and reassure as all that Paragon stood strong.”

Tears rolled down both of their faces. “I forgot you’re just as human as the rest of us.” With that, Commissioner Underhill rushed for the button. Just as he was about to press it, Paragon caught his hand.

“I’m sorry, Rob,” she cried. Grabbing him by the collar, she flew out of the lab and into the sky. They climbed further and further into the clouds, higher and higher. Commissioner Underhill struggled to breathe. He could feel the air thinning. Paragon kept climbing, flying up and up and up until they could see the night sky.

Surrounded by stars, Paragon looked on at her former friend, his body freezing over from the cold of the atmosphere.

“I can’t save you, but maybe he can,” she said. “Goodbye, Rob.”

Paragon let go, and Commissioner Underhill plummeted back down to the earth.

Note: I may be tired of the evil Superman trope, but this was fun to write. I just watched The Boys, so I had to give a shot. I tried to avoid the question “What if Superman was evil” and asked, “What if Superman was grief-stricken and a religious extremist”. Not sure if I went into enough detail with that one, but it was a fun exercise.

Note: No research was done on the hero Quetzalcoatl. He is of Aztec and Mexican culture. His weapon is inspired by Kotal Khan and his wings by Namor.

#writerscommunity #writerslife #superman #the boys

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