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whythinktoomuch · 3 years

Text

ii. apocalypse now & again

(pt. i)

Kara woke up and realized that she was going to die.

Too many of the drones had survived the explosions and were still closing in on her. What little strength she had left after quite literally digging her own grave was presently and painstakingly strained just from her efforts to climb onto her knees. And on top of all that—of everything that possibly could have gone wrong for her in this moment—her helmet was cracked.

The abstract red numbers warning Kara of the kryptonite levels in the area seemed redundant now, what with that unmistakable chill already flooding her bloodstream.

“… Alex,” Kara gasped out, barely able to hear herself over the ringing in her ears. “Hey, Alex… Are you there?”

Her words were met with not one whisper or even a crackle of static, and for once, Kara was inconsolably disappointed to hear no one yelling back at her. With her teeth gritted, she shoved herself off the ground as hard as she could, drifting barely a foot into the air before the first drone crashed into the back of her head.

Kara toppled back onto the ground, knees skidding across the rubble in a shower of hot sparks. The impact had her head reeling, her mouth filling with a taste that she was now idly recognizing as blood. But there was no time to consider any of that as the drone doubled back. Kara scrambled out of the way, narrowly avoiding another collision, only to be struck by a second drone smashing right against her ear.

Out of breath but swearing, Kara whirled around and snagged the fast approaching drone into a bear hug, squeezing and squeezing until it crunched in her arms with a frantic whir. Then with a burst of heat vision, she shattered the other as it came straight for her face.

Kara used her heat vision to pick off several more drones from a distance, but of course, more and more just showed up to take their place, never wavering, never slowing… and eventually, Kara just had to laugh. Because her exhaustion was catching up to her. And Alex was hundreds of miles away. And to get out of here alive, Kara would have to somehow defeat the entire horde of drones, while all they had to do was wreck her suit a little more.

Though admittedly, it’d be overkill at this point, given the crack now spiderwebbing across the glass visor of Kara’s helmet.

Either way, it was over.

So, Kara laughed, grabbed at her chest in a reflexive gesture only to meet the unforgiving metal of her suit, then dropped to her knees. “Alex!” she shouted herself hoarse, because maybe if said loudly enough, the words would still be lingering in the air by the time her sister arrived. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? You were right, and I’m sorry!”

Then she just waited—chest heaving, eyes narrowed but never blinking despite the heat pricking at the corners—because she definitely had to see this through to the bitter fucking end. That much, she owed everyone, including herself.

Except the end didn’t come.

Not this time anyway.

No, instead came a silver sphere, emerging seemingly out of thin air to hover right before Kara’s face. It flashed a blinding white just once, and everything fell absolutely silent and still. Kara’s suit powered down completely, the drones collectively dropped from the air like marionettes with cut strings, and all the lights in the immediate vicinity blinked out.

Laughter welling up all over again, Kara could only collapse onto her side in something akin to sheer relief.

The first person to occur to her, of course, was Alex, who had already saved her ass from similar scrapes on many occasions. But that couldn’t be it. Alex was too far away. It’s why Kara had to take on this mission on her own in the first place.

Then she considered maybe Winn or James, which made even less sense, given how the deceased hardly ever came back to do things like save people’s lives. Not even hers. Not even in the most dire of situations. That’s, unfortunately, just not how life worked these days.

Then she considered Alex again because the kryptonite was clearly bleeding into her brain now, and it was getting rather difficult to remember why it couldn’t have been Alex who’d just saved her. Maybe Kara did shout loud enough after all…

But then, a set of footfalls drew near, metal scraping against metal at a steady pace until a heavy boot struck Kara firmly in the chest, flipping her onto her back where she settled with a grunt.

“So glad I got to you first,” came a self-assured drawl, and Kara promptly found herself face to face with a handheld cannon of sorts. “Would be a pity to come all this way and not get to kill you myself.”

And… Kara’s jaw just dropped.

Not because of the words, nor the intentions behind them—though perhaps they both merited some attention as well—but that voice.

Kara gaped up at her supposed knight in shining, lead-lined armor because her voice—that low, husky tone paired with that very specific lilting cadence—was making her reconsider some very fundamental things about how the world might work.

Namely, that people wouldn’t come back from the dead just to save her life.

Mind still reeling away, Kara tried to sit up, only to be slammed back into the ground, hard.

“Down, girl,” Lena said, grinding her boot into Kara’s chest, the weight of her entire body behind the gesture. But that was fine.

It was fine because Kara could still draw some breath into her lungs, could still use some of that breath to talk, and she could certainly still say some things that she hadn’t uttered aloud in many a year. Like her late wife’s name, for instance.

The cannon in Kara’s face wavered, but didn’t lower. “Shut up,” Lena hissed down at her. “Don’t talk. Don’t even think.”

“So… it is you…” Kara said, and she gently wrapped her fingers around Lena’s ankle—the only part of her that she could still reach from her position—and just cried.

With a startled gasp, Lena stumbled away, wrenching herself out of Kara’s grip. “What the fuck…? What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Kara sobbed out, trying not to choke on her own tears and snot and the slight taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. She suddenly, irrationally, wished that she could just take off her clunky suit. Just to eliminate some of that distance between her and Lena. Just so she could touch the chain hanging around her neck without any hindrance. “Just… just wanted to say, hi.”

Lena kept her distance, studying Kara in a stony silence, and Kara started to see things that she should probably would have noticed sooner if her body weren’t actively shutting down on her. Like the green glow of Lena’s weapon and the kryptonite cartridges strapped to her belt. Or that she was clearly wearing a lexo-suit. Or how the swirly edges of her own vision were starting to darken, and how the chill of kryptonite was currently all she could feel.

“Hey,” Kara called out, sniffling only slightly now. “Am I dreaming?”

“… No.”

Kara nodded thoughtfully to herself. “Okay, cool, cool… So, I think I might be dying then.”

“Yeah,” Lena said, after a brief pause. “Probably.”

“Cool.” Kara tried to flash a thumbs up, but no part of her body wanted to cooperate anymore. Her exhaustion had eaten up all her drive. “Hey, can you tell Alex something for me?”

Lena sighed, but she finally stepped closer, practically in reach. “Okay, sure.”

Kara fumbled for some words and the correct order that one might put them in, but then Lena took off her helmet, and nothing else mattered anymore. Because Kara was perfectly content to just watch that ripple of dark hair, streaked with a light gray that was just… nice to look at.

She never got to see her Lena’s hair do that.

Kara’s shoulder was being shaken so violently that she had no choice but to open her eyes and see Alex’s worry-creased face peering down at her.

“Dumbass…” Alex grumbled, releasing Kara’s shoulder with a dirty scowl. “That’s the last time I let you go anywhere without me.”

“Whatever you say, director.” Kara laughed, but it hurt. She then tried to do a salute, but her everything was still too weak to move apparently. But at least she was still alive.

… Wait.

Kara repeatedly tried to sit up on her bed, and Alex repeatedly shoved her right back down until she gave up. But still, she had to check, had to know that it wasn’t all just a dream.

“Where’s Lena?” she demanded, and the look that Alex gave her in response was so deeply pained that Kara almost felt pathetic for asking.

“… Kara.”

“No, I saw her, Alex,” Kara said, shaking her head, then immediately stopping when her entire body somehow got dizzy from it. “Shit. Ow, ow… But wait, no—But seriously, I saw her, okay?”

“I’m not surprised that you did. You almost died, Kara. Actually, I’m pretty sure that you were dead for a few minutes back there. Again, I say, you fucking dumbass.”

“But I didn’t die. Because she saved me,” Kara insisted. “No, seriously! She took out all the drones with some sort of EMP device, and, and… we talked! And she had gray hair, and I think maybe laugh lines? And yeah, I almost died because my helmet got cracked and stuff. But now, I’m here and I’m fine, so… everything’s fine, right?”

Alex frowned, then somehow settled on the least important part of Kara’s briefing, “You cracked your helmet?”

“Ugh, yeah. The glass visor part. When I fell,” Kara said, waving her hand dismissively. “So sorry about that, by the way.”

“Suit looked fine when we got to you,” Alex said with a shrug, before irritably exclaiming, “Jesus christ, Kara, enough! I’ll just have a guy get the helmet for you, okay? So, just stop trying to get up already.”

Huffing, Kara fell back onto her bed with her arms folded and waited. But when someone eventually showed up with her helmet in tow, she was surprised to see that it was somewhat worse for the wear but perfectly intact. Even up close, with the helmet out the tech’s hands and in her own, Kara couldn’t detect even the slightest blemish in the glass.

Pouting ever so slightly, Kara shoved the helmet back into the tech’s arms.

“… Satisfied?” Alex asked, rolling her eyes when Kara just shrugged one shoulder. “Great. Listen… You just need to get some rest, okay? Once you’re back to full strength, we can work through your… you know, memories together. And hopefully, it’ll make more sense by then. Sound good?”

Kara just nodded, suddenly all too willing to be left to her own devices in the relative quiet and darkness. She accepted a gentle shoulder squeeze and the promise of another session with the sun lamps within the hour, and just curled up under the sheets.

It’s not like she hadn’t conjured up images of Lena before. Kara had been close to death enough times that it was only inevitable that she’d fall back onto memories of her dead wife at some point or another. But this was different. Whenever her brain was just playing tricks on her, Lena appeared to her the way Kara remembered her: warm and loving, bright green eyes, long dark hair smelling of lavender, and alive and young.

Never before had Kara encountered an appropriately aged version of Lena, with creases gathered around her eyes and forehead, hair gloriously faded into the most lovely blend of light grays and white amongst all that black… The Lena that could have been if only she had lived out all these past years alongside Kara.

And she was never in a lexo-suit, of all things. Lena was always wearing one of her classic pencil skirts or Kara’s NCU sweatshirt, or something. Oh, and of course, her wedding band.

Instinctively, the same way she always did when it occurred to her, Kara reached for the chain around her neck, seeking out the familiar weight of the rings that hung from there… only to jolt upright with a gasp that dried up her entire throat.

She ripped the necklace off her head, almost snapping the chain, which in and of itself was telling. Because her chain had been forged out of an extraterrestrial metal amalgamation that not even the Girl of Steel would have been able to break. The one now clutched in her hand, however, was just plain white gold.

Heart pounding in her ears, Kara stared down at an engagement ring fitted with a modest cut of diamond, somehow occupying the very spot where two simple wedding bands—hers and her Lena’s—should have been. Then something drove her to check for an inscription, and sure enough, engraved on the inside of the ring was a series of kryptonian characters, denoting a term of endearment that Kara had never used, but apparently could have in another world altogether: my dearest heart.

#2222 words because that's how i get my kicks n' giggles hue hue hue hue #will there be a part three? who knows #better question is Should there be a part three amirite?#my words.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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Emp-Ire “The King.”

“I am starting to think that the oracle was screwing with us.”

“Silence!” One of the men barked, clapping Ramirez across the back of the head with an open palm. Ramirez jerked forward with a grunt of pain, and seeing that, Adam was having the sudden, sneaking suspicion that…. Everything wasn’t what it seemed to be.

At first, the whole thing had screamed of elaborate tourism. Let the tourists show up and think they are going on some cool quest, and then make them overpay to meet with some lady who was just super high, but the way these men were acting…

Adam was beginning to agree with Ramirez.

If their adventure as Sheriff’s deputies had been real then wasn’t there all the likelihood that this was real as well? Just because you show up to someplace exotic doesn't mean it was designed like that to amuse you. He wouldn’t take a hop and a skip over to Japan and just assume that the different customs there were an elaborate ploy to get money off of tourists….

Well maybe on Earth that sort of thing could totally happen, but looking at these men…. Their physiques, their clothing,their weapons, and the very real, point of their spears, he was becoming aware that maybe they had stumbled on something a lot more serious than they had first thought.

Shit.

He seemed to have a habit of doing things like that.

He glanced around at the small contingent of men who walked with them. As he had noticed before each and every one of them was absolutely shredded, not necessarily in the bodybuilder kind of way, but in a way that made it clear these guys never skipped leg day, arm, day or cardio.

Adam and Ramirez were no slouches; by comparison, both of them hitting the gym at least five times a week for an hour at least, but in comparison?

And of course they didn’t hide it either.

Each of the men carried a massive circular shield and spears taller than they were. They had on sandals with greaves and simple leather wraps, most of them were bare chested, though their commanding officer wore a breastplate, all of them wore helmets.

“Laconia!”

His sudden exclamation startled the man as well as Ramirez,

“Shit, I just realized why that sounded familiar.”

One of the men turned to look at his commanding officer, “I do not think they are Athenians, sir.” He glanced back at Adam, “Too dumb.”

The other men laughed at his expense. Adam frowned, “Sorry my knowledge of ancient greek geographical locations isn’t up to snuff.”

He was silenced with another slap to the head, and with his ears ringing and one eye fuzzy, he finally accepted that this was, in fact, not a joke. Somehow, for some reason that dumbass oracle had sent them out to get potentially sacrificed by a group of Neospartans, and he doubted they were going to be able to sue for damages.

It took almost the whole day to make it to “Sparta” itself, though he became aware of their approaching closeness when small dwellings began appearing on the edge of fields. It was only when he figured out that Spartans needed to eat too that he realized not ALL of them were going to be big buff badasses. Of course, that was until he saw the farmer pulling the plow, who was in fact Hercules’s cousin on his father Zeus’s side.

Okay so maybe things were a bit different.

He was under the impression back during the age of real Sparta, a lot of spartan citizens were just normal people and it was only a select few who were turned into warriors. Women, while they had some rights than in other places, were still expected to stay home and take care of things while the men were off at war. She had to be strong, but that was only because she was expected to raise spartan sons, or something like that. He couldn’t remember exactly how that sort of thing worked, he wasn’t a historian. For all he knew Spartan women were just as shredded as the men.

A truth that seemed apparent for thee spartans because, as they made it to the next little farming house, a woman turned to look at them and damn it was like the Amazons met the spartans. She wasn’t particularly tall by anyone’s standards, but she looked like did mixed martial arts for a living.

He had no doubt she could probably kick his ass.

Ramirez had gone rather silent as he looked around nodding to himself every so often as they were dragged through the outlying villages and farms, and eventually up a set of stone steps leading into a city which was surrounded by lush medeteranian hills and grasslands on either side.

The city itself was no slouch either. It wasn’t as artistically expressive as New Athens had been, ut there was no shortage of statues, and interesting architecture. Walking down the street, everyone they met was shredded or well on their way to becoming so. The men, the women, everyone but the children.

He noticed a few differences from ancient histories, including but not limited to the fact that the women were just as armored as the men, the many races and ethnicities, and the strange assortment of modern day dogs that roamed the place, which he thought was a strange addition.

A line of marching soldiers passed by wearing their red and gold, and as they went Ramirez turned his head to follow them, “Welp, I am pretty sure I had a dream like this once.”

“Did you dream include us dying horribly?”

“Does being crushed between someone's thighs count?”

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, “how can you be thinking like that at a time like this?”

“How can you not, I am scared and way turned on and it is the most confusing feeling I have ever had in my life…. Aren't you just a little?”

Adam frowned and was surprised to find that, “No, he didn’t think so. He was JEALOUS of plenty of these men, but none of the men or women caught his eye in that way, at least he didn't think so.”

Ramirez stared at him and shook his head sadly.

“What?”

“Still thinking about your breakup huh?”

“No I’m not.”

“Quiet.” One of the men hissed raising a hand to backhand one of them, though he stopped as a voice called out from before them.

“Captain NIcos, you have returned from your patrol.”

It was a woman’s voice this time, and as they looked up an armored figure stepped down from the steps to the columned temple. She wore a bright golden breastplate, knee length red skirt and golden greaves and bracers. An attendant at her shoulder carried her Helm, though she kept hold of her spear and circular shield. She was at least six feet tall and had a body like the she hulk though her face was exceptionally beautiful as well, with large brown eyes and full lips.

The man raised his spear to her, “Queen Xanthia.”

The man around them raised their spears as well.

She stepped forward over the stone, “What have you found here.” She used the tip of her spear to reach under Ramirez’s chin and tilt his head back, “Athenians?’

“They say they are ‘from Athens, but not “Athenian.” Captain Nicos said shoving Adam forward so he tripped and fell to his knees on the hard stone.

She grunted and turned her attention to him, tilting his head back to look at her, “Is this true, not-an-Athenian.”

He crinched away from the blade of her spear, “I’m Mericandian actually, Terran, Earthling.”

There were a couple grunts of surprise from around the group.

“Tourists.” Ramirez piped in.

Xanthia frowned, raising her chin, “And how did you end up on Laconia. We don’t encourage tourists here.”

“Would you believe it if I said that asshole of an oracle sent us here.” He raised his hands, “We meant no disrespect of course, we just came here to see the sights and then leave.”

Ramirez nodded.

There was another muttering from the crowd. She had an eyebrow raised, “The oracle you say?”

The two of them nodded again, not sure where this was going.

She turned her head to Captain Nicos, “Keep a close eye on them, I will speak with the king”

She turned on her heels and walked off, passing through the double doors with a swish of her red cloak, leaving the two of them still kneeling on the rough stone.

They turned to look at each other in nervous confusion, not entirely sure where this was going. Overhead the sky had dimmed to a dull blue and torches were being lit all up the city streets. The young man who was doing the lighting had the look of a classic greek hero with tight curly hair and a body borrowed from a demigod.

The two of them didn’t say anything until the doors opened and the queen walked back out, “The king wishes to see the intruders.”

Two guards held the doors opened as they were forced to their feet and up the steps. The interior of the room was bare and blunt, no more than stone pillars and a single uncomfortable throne carved out of sharp marble blocks, on which sat the manliest man he had likely ever seen. Xanthia walked over and sat in the identical throne next to him, and together it seemed as if they were being pulled before the throne of the very gods themselves.

This man was godlike, but not the kind of overly muscled where he can't even touch his own head. This was probably what peak human performance looked like with a neatly shaved beard and thick dark hair. Adam glanced over at Ramirez again, to see the other man was nodding in great approval of this development. He turned his head back to the man who stood very slowly, his armor clinking. He wore a short sword on one hip and carried a spear in one hand, and when he moved, he moved with the grace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and where his body was at all times.

He walked down the steps and looked the two of them over with steely golden eyes, like those of a wolf.

His gaze fell on Adam for a long hard moment, “I see we have been graced by the presence of a foreign general.” He said turning back and stepping up the stone steps.

There was a murmuring in the room around them.

Adam blinked in surprise, “You know who I am.”

The Spartan king stood before his seat, but did not sit down, “Well of course.”

He held up his arm so Adam could see the scrolling holographic image across his wrist, “Just because I live like a spartan doesn’t mean I subjugate my life to not knowing what goes on in the universe. In fact as King it is my duty to know what important developments are being made in this galaxy.”

He turned his head to look at Adam ,”I am loyal to this galaxy and the ideals upon which humanity has befriended aliens.” He walked across the stone, “And you Admiral Vir are an important linchpin in that model.”

He turned to wave a hand at Ramirez, “And of course I know a Marine when I see one.”

Another muttering from around the room.

So, this is sort of not what he expected. The Spartan king was well versed in intergalactic politics, and was no slouch intellectually either.

“So, you’ll let us go then.”

The man did not smile, but the way his eyes twinkled, almost menacingly did not give Adam much hope.

“Oh I never said that.” He turned and paced back in the other direction, “You see, Admiral, I have become aware of an unfortunate pattern in humanity’s political history, and this includes the fall of empires due to poor or weak leaders.” he turned on the spot, “I had given up hope in being able to influence the intergalactic stage, but finding you here has…. Given me an idea.”

Oh no.

“I want to see just what kind of men are being tasked with keeping this galaxy together. I want to know if you can do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done. I want to make sure that my people are in good hands, when their good is out of mine.”

“What are you talking about.”

“I want to make sure you are a brave leader, and that you can fight when is necessary.”

He made a motion with his hands and Ramirez was dragged off to the side.

A group of Spartans stepped up and grabbed Adam around the arms hauling him to his feet.

“Bring him to the training field.” The king said, and the group of men dragged him forward and out the doors.

Adam tried to protest but he was silenced as he was dragged from the doors, down the walkway and into a large lit arena with a sandy dirt floor. A large group of men were practicing here with their spears and shields, but cleared off as soon as an order was barked.

“What are you doing!” Adam demanded

“Consider this your greek trial, Admiral.” The king said taking his own spear and tossing it to Adam, who caught it in one hand, “Fight, and let’s see what you can do.” “But I-”

He was handed a shield, and then the group began to pull back.

The king stepped up onto the arena wall and paced down it’s length, “Lets see if you can beat one of my men first, and we will go from there.”

He motioned a hand and ordered one of the younger men forward. He couldn’t have been that old and was not nearly as well put together as the others, but he held his spear and shield with some confidence.

Ok…. this was going to get interesting.

He knew there was nothing he could do to stop them, so Adam dropped into a crouch.

The shield felt awkward and heavy on his arm, but the spear was a familiar weight. They circled for a short time before the boy came charging at him. He could see what the king was doing. This boy was young and had probably trained repeatedly in drills but had never sued weapons in practice..

He was meant to be easy to beat.

Adam stepped to the side and caught the boy’s foot sending him staggering away. Adam used the shield to knock him further off balance and sent him plowing into the dirt.

No one made a sound.

It wasn’t that impressive. That was SUPPOSED to be easy.

“So at least you have SOME training.” The king called. Overhead a shooting star crossed over the heavens. A crowd trickled onto the stands of the arena.

He motioned someone else forward. She too was young, but the set of her face and a scar down her right cheek showed that she had at least SEEN combat at some point. The way she eyed Adam told him that she knew what she was doing.

Her problem?

She was likely to set i nher fighting abilities, not creative enough. He traded a couple of strikes with her, gaging her ability before making his move. He used his shield as a distraction to cover some of his movement so she couldn't see, and then sent a lightning fast jab. He struck a hit hard on the side of her helmet sending her plowing to the Arena floor.

Still no one made a sound.

The king nodded slowly and motioned someone else forward.

This man was an actual soldier, though likely no great shakes, but at least he knew what he was doing. Adam ended up in a sharp flurry of contact before the shield got in his way and he almost took a hard blow to the shoulder , even so he ended up with a delicate cut along the side of his cheek. It was only by way of quick thinking that he was able to duck under one of the swipes and kick the man hard in the sternum. He went flailing back into the dirt, and Adam couldn’t help but whisper to himself.

“And this is sparta bitch.”

The kind paced around him in a wide circle, “So, someone has trained you in the use of the spear.”

Adam growled, “I was trained to fight aliens with four arms, so you are going to have to try harder.”

The king smiled, “Confidence…. Always a good sign. But the shield, I think you have not been trained to use one of those.”

Adam paused nodded, and then threw the shield to the ground kicking it away.

He took the spear up in two hands, in a distinctly different style from the spartans, “Well, come on then.”

WIth the shield gone and his switch back to using a spear like he had been trained he defeated the next three challenges with relative impunity. It was only when the king stared adding extra fighters did Adam struggle.

They clashed hard, Adam ducking dodging and sometimes jumping over swings from his opponents. He dived into the dirt, rolled onto his back and caught two spears as they hurtled down at him. He kicked one in the side of the knee and he went down. Adam lunged for the hit, spun on the spot and caught the second spear as it came down for him again. He brought the but of his spear up and hit the woman in the face before spinning back in the other direction, dodging an oncoming jab and slammed his spear into the back of his opponent’s head sending them sprawling to the ground.

He was breathing heavily now but he could see and hear some of the men and women muttering in surprise.

The king nodded, “This is heartening, I must say. It seems as if our leaders CAN fight.”

Someone was motioned forward and he was handed a rag to wipe his face and a canteen of water. He drank greedy wiping his mouth and tossing the leather skin back to the young woman who had brought it to him.

“But I think I do see one deficiency.”

He took a waiting spear from one of his followers, waved off a shield and stepped into the ring.

Men and women all around the circle leaned forward in anticipation. Adam readied himself.

The king stepped forward.

Adam could already tell this wasn;t going to be easy.

He was already tired, the kind was fresh.

But still he was ready, the two men circled and then Adam lunged forward in the way the Drev had taught him, The king batted it away and they made an exchange. The man didn’t try to attack him, but seemed content on seeing what Adam could do. Their engagement must have lasted for thirty minutes as they clashed, the king slowly escalating over that time. The longer they went the more energized the other man became. Adam thought if he could just hold out until the other man grew tired as well, then maybe he would have an upper hand.

But it never happened.

Adam gasped for air.

Even after what must have been thirty minutes of continual engagement, the other man only seemed to be breathing steadier and more deeply. All together they had been fighting longer and harder than all of the other previous engagements put together, and still the man was not tired. Adam watched as the man specifically did not take openings that should have killed Adam.

He knew he was trying to make some sort of point.

Adam was breathing in ragged gasps now. He had never been so tired in all his life, he came in for a lunge he knew was sloppy, and his spear was kicked from his hand. A sandals foot hit him in the chest and he went down choking. The king stood over him nodding, “I am impressed by your skill” He turned and waved to the crowd, “You could match any man or woman here hand to hand in a fair fight, but you do have one deficiency.”

Adam gulped and panted.

The king crouched next to him, “No stamina.”

He stood again, “You train with my men tomorrow, and so does your marine. We will make Spartan’s out of you yet!”

Adam gasped coming to his knees, “Wait… but I-”

“You came here for vacation, and I am sorry to inform you that will not be so. You will not be leaving until I am satisfied our galaxy is in the Best hands.”

Adam stood crawling to his feet with great effort.

The king even smiled at him this time, which seemed strange to him somehow. He held out a hand and Adam took it, “A pleasure to fight with you Admiral, I am James king of the Spartans.”

Adam frowned, “James?’ Not Kyros or something?”

“I was born in the northern provinces of Mericanda, of course I don’t have a greek name.”

He clapped Adam on the shoulder and then walked off joined by his queen and their entourage as he shouted orders vanishing into the night.

Adam stared after him.

So, the king of Sparta was Canadian?

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abarbaricyalp · 3 years

Note

handholding- 10/12/13

hugs - 34

kisses - 7/13/27

touching - 47

sambucky :)

Buddies, I literally cannot believe I managed to get all of these done without being too repetitive.

Handholding 10: Happily doing everything with one hand if that means they don't have to let go is already posted on my blog and on AO3: ElisabethMonroe: (til i carry you home) Your Hand in My Hand

Reblogging with AO3 links in a second

Kisses 27: Desperate Kisses

Inhale My Soul

(Listen, listen y'all, you don't know how many different universes of them dying and bleeding out in each other's arms y'all aren't reading here. I didn't do that to you. You're welcome)

Dissolving hadn’t felt like anything. Sam wasn’t sure he even understood what was actually happening. Maybe he’d thought it was just a trick of the reality stone. Maybe human minds weren’t meant to comprehend anything close to what had happened.

Coming back felt like dying.

He woke up on his back and he couldn’t breathe. It was like he had no lungs at all, just a trachea spasming in his throat without air, like a gills with no water. He grasped for the ground and the feeling of dirt was horrifying, a grave waiting to swallow him down into the Earth. The wind was knives on his skin. His suit felt like it was trying to pry his spine from his ribs. His legs ached like someone was trying to stretch the bones on a crank.

He must’ve screamed but there was no air to make a noise.

Finally sight came back and the first thing he saw were the trees falling over him, ready to crush him and hide him again.

Had anyone seen him disappear? No one was by his side. No one looked for him.

No, the trees weren’t falling. They were swaying in the wind. The sun kept gliding down through them with every shuffle of the leaves.

It was so quiet he felt like he could hear the leaves sighing as they grew.

It took him too long to realize the ragged breath that broke the silence like a gunshot came from his own chest. The hands digging his own grave shot to his chest, felt the rise and fall of his ribs and lungs, the proof that he was breathing. He was alive again.

He rolled onto his side and heaved until his ribs creaked, still firmly attached to his spine. There was nothing to come up, but the noise was comforting, the ache that he could name and handle was safe. Human. Living human.

His knees were in his legs when he leaned back on his haunches. They sank into the earth but the grave didn’t swallow him down. No unwilling sacrifice to be taken from him. He brought his dirt covered fingers--firm and whole and attached to him--up to his face. He found his cheeks, a beard with edges that were too straight for a man who had died and been put back together, his teeth. They throbbed in his gums like they were all about to fall out but they were there in his head. His tongue.

He could speak.

“Steve!” he shouted and his throat screamed in protest, the air in his lungs turned to fire. “Steve!” he called again and forced himself to his feet. His boots were tied. His pants were still tucked into them. There was no blood, which seemed wrong. He felt flayed open and left to soak into the ground. How could there be no blood?

“Steve!”

God, if Steve was dead…

Sam couldn’t lose more people. He couldn’t fight his way back. Not after this. Not while everything hurt so fucking much.

“Steve, please, God, where are you?!”

“Sam?”

Sam whirled around at the tired voice. The trees danced in his vision. The grass clutched at his legs, which still felt like they were being stretched out and sunk into the earth. The trees were going to take him over. The grass was going to eat him again. No one was looking. No one would find him. Why wasn’t anyone ever looking for him?

“Sam?” the voice called again.

Footsteps. Crushing grass. A metal screech in the bark of a tree. A colorful curse. “Sam, fuck, shout again!”

Sam stumbled forward, breaking free of the natural world trying to take him away again. He shoved himself away from a tree and crashed into a warm, solid, human body.

“Jesus, Sam,” Bucky breathed and wrapped his arms around Sam tightly. It hurt in the best way. Sam held him back, face hidden in Bucky’s shoulder. He didn’t even care about what gore he was smearing all over himself. Bucky’s hand came to the back of Sam’s head and Sam almost expected it to hit exposed brain but it didn’t. Instead his calloused fingers brushed over Sam’s short hair, smoothing over the natural lines and divots in it until goosebumps erupted over Sam’s skin.

Right. Things could feel good. That was part of being human and alive.

He had no idea how long they stood there. His shoulders were aching, but in a pleasant way that reminded him that there was something he loved right in front of him, in his arms.

Bucky was the first to move, stepping back half a step, a quarter of a step, barely any at all, just enough to bring his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. The cheeks and the mouth and the skin that was all there and new again. He tilted Sam’s head back, eyes intense and clear in front of Sam.

Had it not felt the same for him? Was he not grappling with his ridiculously weak claim to existence? Or, fuck, was this how he always felt after being frozen and woken up? Had he been going through this for seventy years with no one to run to? With no one to hold him and remind him that things could feel good?

Sam’s fingers tightened in Bucky’s vest and just as Bucky was starting to say something Sam couldn’t honestly answer--something about how he felt, if anything hurt, if he needed medical attention--Sam hauled him down into a desperate kiss. Their noses smashed together and pain bloomed across Sam’s face, made his eyes water, made him want to sneeze, made him want to lean into it all the more, like the pressed-on-bruise ache of Bucky’s arms around him.

He felt Bucky’s teeth notch a split into Sam’s lip by accident, crushed together with nowhere to go. Finally it softened. Bucky’s mouth pressed against his until Sam felt like he could actually breathe, until he could make his mouth do what he wanted, catch Bucky’s lower lip between both of his, wring out a noise he’d never heard the other man make before. Bucky’s hands on his face kept him close and Sam’s fingers tightened in his vest. He wanted to crawl into Bucky’s chest--felt like, maybe, he could after being unmade and remade. Their noses knocked together again as Sam tried to turn his head, kiss the other side of Bucky’s mouth, let Bucky bruise the rest of his lips.

Bucky pulled away, but didn’t let go of Sam’s face. Cool air flowed into Sam’s lungs until all of his bones and muscles felt like they slotted back into place.

“I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am to see you alive,” Bucky breathed.

We should talk about this. That. Later.

“I thought everyone was gone. I don’t know… I didn’t know how I came back. I thought it was just me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. There’s hundreds of people. Not everyone, but at least half of us.”

Half of them.

“Oh my God,” Sam said. “Thanos won. He wiped out half of the universe.”

“I think that was us. I think...someone brought us back,” Bucky said. Pain flashed over his face as he looked at Sam and then pulled him in for another kiss. Sam tried to understand a second chance in it, but all he could feel was Bucky and relief and adoration. He wasn’t sure where that one came from more--him or Bucky.

“There’s still a fight,” someone said from behind them. Another magic shithead. Terror clutched at Sam’s chest like magic itself was enough to unmake him again, take him away again. “There’s still a world to save.”

Bucky’s hand found Sam’s between their bodies. Sam took a breath with lungs that almost seemed to work again. “What’re we waiting for then?” he asked.

Kiss 13: Frustrated Kiss

Better Than None

“Barnes, you wanna jump in? Any time’s fine,” Sam called out, though the volume wasn’t actually necessary, since he had an earpiece in and Bucky was only a few feet away, leaned on what was left of a building’s wall.

“Nah, you seem to be handling it just fine,” Bucky called back with a nod.

Sam ducked under the robot arm that had been flung at him. “Barnes, I swear, as soon as I get my hands on you--” he threatened.

“Y’know, normally that gets me going but seein’ as you were so anti-giving me a good luck kiss, I don’t know if I believe you anymore.”

“We don’t have time for this!” Sam threw the shield to cut through seven wire-y necks and caught it at degree 355 of its arc.

“It’s just a kiss. Takes two/tenths of a second,” Bucky said.

“I meant this dumbass argument.” Sam jumped out of the way of an electrical charge and Bucky watched it sail dangerously close to his head.

“Damn, maybe I am lucky without you,” he said and didn’t move at all.

“Bucky,” Sam sighed and ripped the head off of the nearest robot.

“Hot. Wish I could show you my appreciation.”

“How does me not giving you a good luck kiss translate you into not giving me any kisses?”

“It only seems fair. You’re putting my well-being at risk. There should be consequences.”

“That’s not how it works! You’re the one not--” Jesus, he didn’t have time to fall for the bait. He freed a mini-EMP from his utility belt and hurled it at the cluster of robots trying to scale the debris that first responders were using as a barricade to the rest of the street. A few seconds later, the robots fell away, powerless and useless.

“I kind of felt that in my arm,” Bucky said.

Sam growled out a huff and stalked over to Bucky. He shoved the front of the shield against his chest a little roughly and leaned in to kiss him, mostly teeth and irritation. The bastard still looked pleased when Sam pulled away.

“Good luck. Now will you please go do your job?”

Bucky grinned, all teeth and victory, and bolted into action.

Kisses 7: Passionate Kiss

Hand holding 13: Linking hands during s**

Bring Heaven to You

Sam swore he could feel Bucky’s mouth all over him. Every inch of his skin felt electric and alive. Frankenstein’s creature surging to life after a bolt of lightning, every nerve and muscle singing at the same time, overwhelming sensation in the best way. Like a freefall that keep him tethered to the mismatched hands clutching at his hips, his ribs, his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, the backs of his knees. Like Bucky couldn’t decide where he should be shocking Sam back to life either.

Bucky dragged his hand down Sam’s side, flat and steady so Sam could feel the golden band on his finger scorching his skin like it was made of fire. Like vows and rings and heavy promises weren’t enough to prove they belonged to each other, like they needed it written in flesh and blood like everything else about their lives.

Hahahaha, no. The rest is on AO3. Link in the reblog

Hand holding 12: Possessive hand holding

A Green Monster, And No We Don’t Mean The Hulk

“Welcome back to the show, Captain America!” a bubbly, young talk show host greeted. Bucky assumed he’d watched at least a few seconds of the program at some point when he was making it his life mission not to leave his apartment, but he couldn’t place her name for the life of him. “And you brought Mr. Barnes with you!” This she said with much less genuine enthusiasm and didn’t seem all that thrilled to have to look away from Sam to address Bucky.

“Well, you know I can’t stay away too long,” Sam said with a friendly smile. He held out his hand and the host took it in both of hers. It was less a hand shake and more an excuse for her to hang onto Sam, it looked like.

Sam and Bucky sat in the cushy seats for guests and, even though they’d already walked through the staging of this whole farce, Bucky was still deeply tempted to take Sam’s seat so he was between Sam and the host.

“So, Sam, last time we saw each other, you weren’t yet Captain America.”

“Funny how fast things like that can change, right?” Sam asked with twinkling eyes. Bucky wondered if the cameras were bolted down and if he could wrench one free even if they were.

“Well, I think it’s still not soon enough,” the host said and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. “You’ve always been Cap to us here. You’ve been so vocal about your mission statement as Captain America, so I won’t make you repeat yourself.” Sam nodded gratefully, though Bucky knew he’d repeat his goals and wishes until he ran out of breath if it meant one more person heard them and got inspired. “So I thought we could focus on what’s going on behind the scenes with you. Has anything else changed for you since you’ve been back?”

As if coming back to life wasn’t enough.

“Oh, definitely,” Sam said. “Buck and I just finished flipping a house down by my sister. Y’know, we got decent temporary accommodations--Buck still has his in New York--and staying with my sister again was nice, but there’s nothing like having a house to come home to that’s just ours. No pre-teens stealing all the food outta the fridge immediately after grocery shopping.”

The host laughed along with Sam, though her eyes couldn’t quite keep from flickering to Bucky. “It’s fun that you’re rooming with Mr. Barnes. Does it feel like having college roommates again?”

Sam frowned, opened his mouth to answer, ran through a bunch of diplomatic ways to say what should’ve been obvious but wasn’t because this lady was into Sam. Which, like, Bucky couldn’t blame her for. But he was anyway.

He reached over to grab Sam’s hand where it was picking at a loose thread in his pants. “Actually, it’s more like just living with a partner,” he answered for Sam. “That’s something else that’s changed too, huh?” he directed at Sam. “Turns out, with consistent showers and therapy, he thinks I’m pretty charming.”

Sam frowned again and scoffed. “No, I do not. That hasn’t changed.”

The host laughed again, forced but a decent show anyway. “Sure, we all love a good bromance,” she said.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t,” Sam warned.

“It’s a lot like a bromance, yeah. Just without the B,” Bucky said. “We kind of figured my name had enough Bs to last us for a while.”

“Sam, are you saying--”

Sam sighed and brought his other hand up to the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately. And, yeah, he’s always like this. Some kinda puffed up bulldog or something.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened around Sam’s. “You’re my partner. I’m allowed to tell people that.”

“You don’t ever stop telling people.”

“Can’t blame him,” the host pointed out. Okay, maybe some of the hostility was misplaced, Bucky thought. Only some of it. “How did we not know about this, Cap?” she asked jovially, though Bucky thought she was still a little upset.

Sam shrugged. “Guess it’s not as exciting as superheroing. And cameras keep ending up destroyed,” he added pointedly.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the accusation. “Half the places we go could be classified as an active war zone. It’s not always on me that media cameras get crushed under debris or aliens or something.”

“Every single one that catches you touching my face?”

Bucky shrugged.

“So...how long has this been a thing?” the host asked.

“Since before Sam took the shield. It’s actually a package deal. If you want the shield, you have to have me.”

Sam rolled his eyes and let out another long suffering sigh. “I’m sorry he’s ruining this interview.”

“Oh, no, I’m about to win an investigative journalism prize, I think,” the host laughed.

“I don’t know how investigative it is when your subject is physically incapable of shutting up,” Sam said, looking over at Bucky with a glare and the smallest pout that made Bucky want to kiss it off of his face.

So he did, holding their interlaced fingers next to their face to hide from the cameras at least a little bit.

Hugging 34: Hugging while grabbing butt

Get Sprung

(Man, I meant to put this in the fr@ story and forgot :/ )

The building came down faster than Sam expected it to. He supposed well placed explosives would do that. What happened to uncertain, uneven dynamite? Why was everything electrical and precise nowadays?

He had no idea how Bucky managed to get Sam and the shield bundled in his arms before the ceiling came down. He didn’t know how Bucky had managed to kick a piece of wall upright and then locked his metal arm to hold the shield in place above them. He had no idea how Bucky knew it’d make the perfect alcove for them. For someone who pretended not to know what math was when AJ asked for help on homework, he was very calculation savvy.

Bucky slowly freed his arm from the straps of the shield. The rubble shifted a little, pressed a little closer, and then stilled again. They both let out a small breath. There wasn’t enough room to lay out totally, or to stand fully, but they weren’t being crushed. Bucky’s arm joined the other around Sam’s waist. Sam dropped his face to Bucky’s shoulder and let Bucky’s pulse drum against his cheek for a second.

“Are you grabbing my ass?” he finally asked and Bucky coughed out a startled laugh.

“Yeah, you better hope it’s me and not some darkness monster.”

“Couldn’t blame the monster if it was,” Sam said.

“I gotta make sure it’s still there. Would be a shame to lose America’s ass, y’know.”

Sam shook his head and pulled away from Bucky enough to light up his wristlets. He shook them off and rested them on pieces of concrete and rebar to light the space.

Bucky sank down to the ground, legs bent a little to accommodate the space and Sam followed him down, settling between his legs.

“So, now we wait, huh?” he said, reaching for Bucky’s hands to tangle their fingers together.

“Guess we gotta,” Bucky agreed. “Are you hurt?”

Sam shook his head. There was still a ringing in his ears from the explosion and he was sore from Bucky tackling him out of the way, but nothing felt crushed or cut or broken. “You?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said and then let out a breath at Sam’s arched brow. “I mean it. I’m not playing tough or anything. We got lucky. It came down on us, not sideways into us. I think there’s something lodged between the plates in my arm, but I don’t want you to do anything about it until we’re safe. It’s functional right now. I don’t need to be down an arm if we have to dig out.”

“We’re not gonna have to dig out,” Sam said. “Torres’ll track Redwing to us.”

“How’s your dumb robot?”

Sam reached for a wristlet and navigated to the Redwing menu. “Operational. Some exterior dinging, but nothing serious. He’ll be functional if we need.” Sam set the wristlet aside again and sighed. “Fuck, that was close, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. C’mere,” Bucky said, opening his arms. Sam shifted forward on his knees and leaned against Bucky’s chest, hugging him close. “‘M glad you’re okay,” Bucky murmured, lips brushing Sam’s temple.

Sam nodded and rubbed Bucky’s waist for a second. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re grabbing my ass again.”

“I know.”

“Alright.”

Touch 47: Touching their elbow to get their attention

Quiet Birds Circling in Flight

(Jeez, the only thing that came to mind for ages on this prompt involved a spaceship but these men have SEEN aliens and spaceships so that’s not as fun :(((((( )

Sam stood outside the cenotaph long after everyone else had left the service. And that was quite the feat in and of itself. It felt like the mourning could go on for years. There’d been enough tears around him that he wasn’t sure what his own would add to the spectacle.

To everyone else, the cenotaph was a mausoleum. But Sam had been next to Bucky when he told the military to quietly bury him in the cemetery where his parents were both buried. “You know,” Bucky had said one afternoon while they watched the cenotaph being built stone by stone, engraving by engraving, “I’d wager that most mausoleums are just cenotaphs. Grave robbing and reactions to grave robbing mean probably everyone just got moved somewhere safer.”

“Plus decomposition.”

“Well, shit, Wilson. When do you stop being you after death? When does dirt become dirt again? When isn’t it your resting place? Does it even matter where your body is when alls said and done? Is that ever actually you or just a space filler?”

Sam had elbowed Bucky’s ribs and they’d each taken a piece of stone and pretended they didn’t see.

Sam weighed the shield against his shin, knocking it slightly to the side, and then looked up at the stone one ten more feet above his head.

Steve would hate this so much. Sam felt like he could feel his raging blush from the after life. Sam and Bucky had both asked for something more muted, something quieter. Hell, something that would do good for the world Steve was always trying to save. All this money and work and art, for what? A place to take pictures for likes on the internet?

No, Sam had to remind himself, it was a place for memory too.

As much as Sam kind of hated the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that looking up at the effigy of his friend inspired him the same way glancing over at him had in life too. The words wrapping around and around the base of the cenotaph sparked the same intense pride and righteousness they had the first time he heard them.

Maybe he didn’t hate the cenotaph. Maybe he just wanted the real thing back.

He startled at a gentle touch at his elbow. He thought it might’ve been another mourner come to offer condolences, though those mostly went to Bucky when someone was brave enough to approach him. Most people hadn’t looked at Sam twice. Not when Captain America was, in theory, laying in rest thirty feet beyond.

Sam was not in the mood to listen to anyone else talk about the time Steve smiled at them in a cafe or grabbed their cat out of a tree. If he heard his name again, he was going to break down.

But he had the shield now. He had to do the things Steve did. Smile when he didn’t want to. Hide any sign of weakness, lest it reflect poorly on the red, white, and blue he carried now. So he ground his teeth together until his gums ached and turned with a screwed on smile.

But it wasn’t a mourner. Not a random one anyway.

Bucky still had his fingers on Sam’s elbow, a sad look on his face. Dawn was creeping over the horizon and Sam realized with a start and a bloom of despair in his stomach that he’d spent the entire night in the park.

“Think if we wait two more days he’ll shove that stupid stone shield out of the way and come out?” Sam asked, voice wavering like a flag in the wind.

“We would literally never hear the end of it if he did,” Bucky pointed out.

Neither of them smiled. Neither of them really meant their jokes.

Sam finally broke down.

He collapsed against Bucky’s chest. It wasn’t until he lost his breath in the middle of a sob that he realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. Bucky was crying too. They clutched at each other, both terrified they might drift away, that the other might decide this was too difficult too and go back to something better at the first opportunity.

Sam didn’t even blame Steve. He’d laid awake in the temporary accommodation the government had put him up in and tried to convince himself that if he was in Steve’s shoes, he wouldn’t have saved Riley and stayed in that timeline. But he couldn’t. He knew he would have, almost certainly. And it wasn’t fair to ask Steve to give up a happy, quiet ending after more than a century of fighting and hurting.

But understanding it and accepting it didn’t make it hurt any less. “What are we supposed to do, Bucky?” he asked with an irritatingly genuine hiccup at the end of his words.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, sounding for all the world like he was grinding his teeth together, trying to pull himself back together. “You have a lot more options than me.”

And it was true. Sam had had a job. The Air Force had reached out since he’d been back stateside. He had a family who missed him, who he missed. But it felt like something heavy and tethering had been locked away in that empty cenotaph. He didn’t want to walk away yet.

Bucky stepped back, kept a hand on Sam’s elbow. “For now, we should get back home. You need to sleep.”

Sam didn’t want to sleep. Everything hurt too much.

“Sam, come on,” Bucky insisted. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.We could both use a few hours of being quiet, right?

Sam reached up to wipe the tears from his face. He had the shield. He had to act like it. “My place or yours?” he asked, still watery.

Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice. “Yours is nicer than mine.”

“And I have a bed.”

“I have a bed.”

“It’s unassembled in a box.”

Bucky squeezed his elbow and then tugged him into a brief hug that Sam was pretty sure they’d never speak of again. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not goin’ nowhere.”

Sam rubbed at his face again and nodded. “We-- We should order in. When’s the last time you ate?” he asked as they walked away.

“I had a better breakfast than you.”

“You didn’t have to give a speech.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you didn’t throw up in front of everyone.”

“Shut up, I’m a great public speaker.”

“Sure, Wilson.”

“Screw you, Barnes.”

The dawn bloomed before them.

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #writing #i answer things #the falcon and the winter soldier #prompt answers

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darkpoisonouslove · 3 years

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Scooby Doo and the Samurai Sword Review

I loved this movie when I was little and it is holding up... in a way. There are some things about this movie that are great and there are some things about it that are... less great. I am going to look at both of those categories here and break down my enjoyment of the elements of the movie.

First off, the movie really manages to pack a lot in its runtime. You can hardly be bored with how much is happening on the screen. And while that is true the mystery solving seems to take a backseat to some of the other elements. With so many things that they are trying to tie together, it would be hard to give everything a lot of screen time. However, the mystery here seems to suffer a little from the supernatural being explored more. And on the one hand, that’s okay because the movie is sticking to what has been outlined as the main storyline. But on the other hand, Scooby Doo was always about solving a mystery and that was lacking to a degree in this movie where there’s about a half hour to close the story after the mystery is actually solved.

The villains are a curious case in this one. I find the human villain somewhat lacking. We don’t get to spend enough time with her to really feel her presence or understand her plan. Though, to be fair, there isn’t much depth to the plan. I have no idea why she decided to bring back an evil ghost and thought that she’d be able to control it simply through gratitude? That... undermined her... a bit. And her motivation is mostly conveyed through the background surroundings which speak of her respect for tradition. But on that account, her character doesn’t make sense either. She claims she hates the modernization and abandonment of tradition but at the same time she’s using robot ninjas to be the army of a samurai ghost. Talk about your mixed feelings. I feel like the writers were a little bit stumped on how to tie all the elements together and resorted to this mess in order to get the story where they wanted it to go. Also, a robotic army is a lot easier to defeat than a human one when you can just turned them off with an EMP. (And apparently, Velma managed to construct one that was powerful enough to blackout all of Tokyo on her own. I know they did that as a joke but massive blackouts like that usually lead to a breakout of crime so that wasn’t great.)

The actual ghost is not much of a villain. He appears only for the final battle and even then he’s... a bit of a mess himself. It’s a possession kind of situation which ultimately leaves you with not much of a villain. And the defeat seemed a little far-fetched as well. You’d think a samurai sword wouldn’t be cut in half quite so easily. And another complaint I have is that Daphne is the martial arts expert and the entire reason they got involved in the mystery in the first place but it’s Shaggy and mainly Scooby that defeat the ghost. And I could be okay even with that if Daphne had gotten the final confrontation with our villainess but nope. That one is knocked out at the appearance of the ghost so you don’t get that. All I’m saying is that Daphne and Miyumi team-up against the head of a martial arts school would have been awesome to see and given more of a momentum and closure to the climax. And it would have blended the human villain and the supernatural one better into a neat pile of antagonism.

The characters are... a case of its own. Miyumi and the museum curator are good. They are given enough personality to be the supporting characters that they are. There are three other minor characters that weren’t super great but they don’t appear that much in the movie. In fact, a little less personality for one of them would have been great but I’ll come back to that later. I already talked about the villains so that leaves us with the gang. They are where the movie isn’t doing so great. We have the period typical characterization which means that Daphne is creative and knows martial arts, Fred is kind of a dumbass, Velma has any knowledge that they need (except apparently speaking Japanese) and Shaggy and Scooby can do whatever the plot needs them to do. The origami and becoming samurai was a little bit too much. I mean, I can buy the origami but the samurai thing? Not so much.

The movie has a very interesting blend of supernatural, legendary and technological. I wish they would have done a little more on the clash of tradition and technology in Japan because that seems like a really interesting and nuanced discussion and was a big point of contention in the movie. It’s also a relevant topic all over the world as more and more technological advancements are left. There could have been a great soul-searching journey here for the Scooby gang if this weren’t a kids movie that could have even introduced a new era of Scooby Doo where some of the old is discarded in favor of improved elements. The legend about the Black Samurai and the Green Dragon was really interesting and felt like an actual legend. Now I am not familiar with Japanese folklore but I doubt that this is based off a real legend so they did a great job with constructing that legend. Following the steps of the legend was really interesting while it was happening and I kind of wish they would’ve spent more time on that as the supernatural element felt a little off. What I mean is that the living dragon was perhaps a touch too much and would have been better off as a spirit that lived in the sword to begin with not as an actual dragon that entered the sword after dropping Scooby and Shaggy at the final showdown and then we never even heard of him again. And the whole becoming samurai thing felt pretty insensitive, which I will come back to in a bit. Shaggy and Scooby especially were not very interested in either the mystery or the Japanese culture and that subplot would have definitely fit better with Daphne. Though, if anything they probably should have given it to Miyumi. It seems disrespectful to the culture in question that those two outsiders will become samurais in, like, five hours and basically get to commit one of the biggest feats in Japanese history.

And that brings me to my last point about the insensitivity of the movie. There are some parts that are done respectfully such as the inclusion of the Hachiko story and then there are plenty of parts that are just... frustrating to watch. For one, that minor character that I mentioned earlier was one of the most potent examples. They made him clearly have some mental disorder that left him behaving like a dog and that was played for laughs. It’s just bad form. And a lot of the Japanese elements weren’t handled gracefully. As I mentioned, Shaggy and Scooby becoming samurais was downright offensive. I get that it’s a kids movie but that still doesn’t mean that you can’t do it with a little more grace. And of course there were the uncultured tribe of cannibals because we couldn’t possibly go without that. Plainly the worst part of the movie.

Ah, what can I tell you? The movie has some great action sequences and the mystery when it’s happening is pretty entertaining in the moments when it’s not also intertwined with offensive content. The movie looks great. The visuals are really good and I like how they brought a certain creativity to this one. The discussion about tradition vs modern technology was interesting even if not very deep or nuanced (at the end the conclusion the movie reaches has a lot of technology - good, tradition - abandon). Some of the characters could have used some more work and some of the many elements weren’t connected perfectly but overall, the movie has a lot of story in it and is pretty engaging for the most part.

#scooby doo #scooby doo and the samurai sword #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #movies #movie review #review #thoughts

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echo-three-one · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotted Memory

Somewhere out there

Beneath the pale moonlight

Someone's thinking of me

And loving me tonight…

Chapter 14 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Alex and Augustus

Meet Me Halfway

John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Location Unknown

18 hours ago

He thought he was dead. He thought they were going to kill him. He wished they would, just to end the suffering. But he also wished they wouldn't. He had greater plans, he still wanted to enjoy his life. And it looked like Nero granted half his wish, while depriving him of the other half. He's going to live the rest of his years in hell.

He couldn't stop thinking about that song, he lay flat on the ground, feeling weak, powerless and defeated.

If I lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

He couldn't feel a thing but he knew he was being transported somewhere. Red flashes filled his eyes as he slowly slipped away from the conscious world.

2 Seconds.

A single drop of water plopped on the cold floor where he laid every 2 seconds. It was getting annoying, but he thanked it for actually waking him up.

Soap struggled to get up and forced himself to do so, grunting in pain as the muscles and bones of his body reacted to his sudden movements. Enduring all the pain, he gasped and got up, moving to the direction of the only ray of light from a crack in the ceiling.

He limped but he had hope, exhaling with excitement as the light got closer every step he took. Then clang! He hit his head on an iron bar. He's in a prison cell, deep underground.

"Shite." he cursed, dropping his knees on the ground, his energy already ran out and he felt thirsty.

"That's freshwater dripping down there." An unknown voice emerged from the darkness, Soap wanted to believe he's hallucinating, but an old figure emerged from the shadows. His hair mostly greyed out and it was long enough that Soap believed he'd been here for far too long.

"The name's Jack. And I suggest you rehydrate. I've been here long enough that you could trust that it's safe." he suggested. His tone was strict but helpful and Soap knew he's trustworthy. They're both prisoners and as the saying goes: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend"

"So… uh Jake. What brings you to this dark and gloomy place?" Soap asked, his voice was barely audible but he was heading straight to the dripping freshwater.

"Turns out our friend Nero doesn't want me dead yet. He couldn't pry any information from me. I'm CIA, literally trained half my life to keep information away. He should've just killed me when he got the chance." He replied.

"So, that means he's going to get something out of you too…" he added, Soap looked worried, he didn't undergo some torture training and hes afraid of what Nero wants from him.

"Look kid, I know you're worried. That's why we won't let that happen. Okay? I have a plan." Jake patted Soap's shoulder, it still hurts from all the stomping and the tossing around but he knew he didn't mean it.

"So… CIA. Guess you crossed paths with Alex." Soap asked, his low accent echoed across the dark cage.

"Yeah. Alex. He was like my son, trained him and assisted him all throughout his CIA Career."

"He kinda disobeyed orders by joining the good side which looked bad in the eyes of the higher ups." Soap reported.

"Hm… It's very unusual of him to not follow orders, unless he believes it's for a better cause." Jack supplied to which Soap nodded, agreeing Jack's assumption.

"It was a good cause. Sacrificed himself for the greater good. Miraculously made it out, but lost his leg in the process." Soap continued, updating the old man about his protege, he's actually glad he did as he could feel the man's mood rising from grumpy prisoner to someone a little less grumpy.

"He had good morals, that kid. He could go far with that attitude… I just hoped that falling in love would not be his downfall… just like what happened to me…" he muttered. Soap didn't make out the last sentence so he assumed it was his own thoughts leaking out of his head. He didn't bother asking again.

The iron doors opened and a new patch of light opened. Jack looked at Soap with determination and nodded.

"Looks like it's showtime, sharkbait." Soap nodded noting the Finding Nemo reference at these trying times.

Jack was right. They had a practice of how to handle prisoners for interrogation. A few stomps, handcuffs, sack on the head and push you if you don't cooperate. Soap had to go through the whole thing, and as far as he knows, Jack must have gotten the key.

He limped his way to the interrogation room, buying enough time for Jack to blindly find the keyhole from the cell. He tried fighting back but the taser sticks were already giving him a bad time.

Just as Jack described, the interrogation room consisted of a dentist chair and a television, his captors were beside him preparing orders from Nero on the screen.

Soap squirmed his way out of the chair, trying to be convincing that he had no idea what's going on.

"Stop squirming! Tell us where the girl is… or I'll take a wild guess and destroy your base instead." Nero yelled. His voice was low, like it ran through a voice changer.

"Sod off…" Soap spat and squirmed again, receiving a shock from the taser. He groaned as tendrils of electricity ran through his body shaking him almost unconscious.

"Lower the voltage or he won't respond! Dumbasses! We need something from him!" Nero yelled at his henchmen.

"So… MacTavish…22nd Parachute Regiment, S.A.S., Now Task Force 141… Skilled in combat, Sniper and Demolitions… You know a proper brainwash would help me get the code from you right?" he mused.

"FOUR!" Soap roared from the top of his lungs, panting after he yelled.

"Four? What the fuck are you talking about?" Nero asked, looking confused. Addition to that, the ground shook and made everyone else in the room wonder.

"What's going on?" Nero asked.

"What? we're under attack? By who? How?" Soap's ears could hear the distress from their leader and from the looks of it, 141 already found him making it easier for him and Jack to get out of this hell hole.

"Augustus is gone? They're going to pay! Okay boys kill this man now. We have to send them a message!" Nero yelled angrily and the tv turned to static.

Meet me Halfway

Francine "France" Winters

Task Force 141

Task Force 141 Base - Briefing Room

"We're being pressured to capture Nero. With our base compromised, the Board would now decide for our force's future. Simon Riley is now researching Augustus' burner phone, if we're lucky enough, it could lead us to our next clue." Shepherd calmly informed the force about the status. He looked in distress but he had to keep pushing forward, to end this warfare.

"Some of Nero's forces are already in New York. It turns out he could command the brainwashed civilians to deploy EMP blasts but recon noticed that he could only command a few at a time. This means without the IP address, he is still powerless and trying hard." Shepherd added.

"I want you all to always be ready for an all out attack on Nero. Let's prove to the board that we're the best one for the job." He muttered and dismissed everyone. France decided to stay in the briefing room and let the quiet consume her thoughts.

"You okay?" A reassuring hand held her shoulder. She knew it was Gary and tears started to fall from her eyes.

"I… I can't stop worrying about him, Roach." She croaked and gave Roach a very pained stare. She actually missed John's presence even after being together for a short while, she felt that they shared a lot of common things together, the strive to become better, the response to danger even off duty and the determination to achieve a goal. Those were her traits that he also had, these same traits that made him like her despite his cocky first impression.

"Let's help out Ghost track that son of a bitch Nero down. And maybe it'll lead us to him." Roach assured them as they both stood up and went to Research.

"How… how can you still be so sure that he's okay?" she sobbed.

"The dogtags." Ghost interjected while typing furiously on the computer.

"If Soap was dead, he should've shown us his tag. That would cripple some of our Force's focus and would lead to his success in invading and capturing Samantha." Ghost continued, he made sense and France almost smiled with the two's support. Instead, she just breathed out and helped Ghost.

"So, have you traced each source?" France asked Ghost as she also started furiously typing codes and strings of data input.

"Yes, they're really sneaky with the encryption, but I keep on getting pings at one location before it spreads in different places." he explained.

"The nearest signal tower. Every packet almost goes through there. You see that?" France pointed at the screen.

"Yeah I do. Let's start tracing that source." Ghost muttered and the map already pinged the tower's location.

"Bingo." they both whispered and cheered, hugging each other as a sign of success. France felt Ghost's tight hug and felt something off about the guy, then he actually removes half of his mask and pouts his cheek close to hers.

"I…. uh… I'm sorry" Ghost shyly said as France pushed him away and felt awkward at the situation. Gary just stood there in shock as Price entered the room.

"What's the news?" he asked, looking at the three.

"We found him, Sir." Ghost cleared his throat and put back his mask.

"Well, bloody hell. Let's go then!" he said as they all ran towards the exit and prepared themselves. France didn't have the time to think about the events earlier as she was still worried about Soap's safety. She hopes that whatever lies in that place would give her an answer.

"FIRE!" Captain Price yelled as snipers quickly shot the guards surrounding the icy fortress. The gulag housed people that the world didn't want but couldn't kill, and she hoped that John MacTavish was on that list.

Danger close explosions crippled both attacking and defending forces as Price roared at Shepherd to be careful. France gulped as she saw a very open field that they're dropping in on and knew for a fact that she's very open and weak at these positions.

Her mind raced, looking at every angle. Tangos were everywhere carrying different kinds of weapons. With minimal angles to hide on, the force, led by Roach aggressively advanced to the Gulag, dodging heavy fire, grenades and RPG Rockets. As soon as they found the tunnel leading deep into the Gulag, France already felt comfortable. This was her playing zone and no one's going to stop her from getting into Nero.

The way in was almost clear, no enemies were against them but instead they ran further into the Gulag. Something was off.

Gunfire was heard deep into the Gulag and as soon as the team reached the control room, Ghost already did his magic. Opening gates, looking at the cameras and defending their six. The masked man helped them further advance into the Gulag.

"Nero's not here…" Ghost said.

"How so?" Price angrily muttered.

"He never set foot in this place. He only uses a television to communicate."

"Bloody hell. Now what?"

" I see two heat signatures behind that wall."

Roach quickly planted a c4 breach and as soon as it exploded Francine pounced at the closest person, raising her fist and looking at its eyes to see the punch go through.

Blue eyes. Those shades of blue. France stopped his fist as tears started to well from her eyes, dropping some on his bare chest.

"John…" she whimpered and smiled.

"Fra.." she didn't let him finish, she kissed him. She didn't care what everyone else thought. The gunfire and explosions suddenly felt nothing to her. She didn't care how John's lips tasted, all she cared about was that he's alive and she's on his arms.

Extraction quickly followed as Shepherd's forces already did a lot of damage on the old fortress. They barely got out just in time for the building's inevitable collapse but they're safe.

Next Chapter : Secret Alliances

Notification Squad my beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

#horRAYfic #whateverittakes #john soap mactavish #john price #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1

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teacornertidy · 4 years

Text

Bloodhound and Crypto are the kind of people that judge off of first impressions, but of course their opinions will develop or change over time. So imagine their first meeting being so utterly dry and uncomfortable.

Bloodhound quietly judging Crypto on how he has to desync with his real body to drive his drone and how he doesn't even attempt to be more mobile, while Crypto judges them on how religious they seem and how uptight they are with beliefs. But neither of them say anything about it and keep to themselves.

But of course, they need to work together whether they like it or not, so they try to work around each other. And so, they silently merge their tracking techniques in a way of cooperation when teamed together. Bloodhound would help lead Crypto's drone to the enemies and then would wait for the hacker to quickly catch up after parking his drone incase any other team enters the area. Then it's up to Bloodhound to hunt down the enemy team with Crypto with the help of their scan and passive. If things were looking bad, then Crypto would quickly corner himself with Bloodhound so he could move his drone in and emp to get the upper hand.

This technique grew to be moldable incase the matches were in duos or trios, so the third teammate didn't need to be dragged into their attacks.

And with that, their opinions on each other changed aswell, Crypto started to see Bloodhound as a better partner and vice versa. When they did get pair up for trios though, they both quietly wished that Mirage, Revenant, Rampart were not on their team.

Mirage would cause their attacks to delay with his shenanigans, don't get them wrong though, the decoy was an amazing person, but not somebody they wished to be paired up with when together. Revenant just wouldn't stop complaining about all the planning before hand or how the pair seemed to need to stick together all the time, and he'd try to split them up for his own attempt at an attack on the enemies. While Rampart would need to place her ultimate in a specific area, meaning less mobility to them, but atleast her barricades were good to keep Crypto safe when he got into his drone.

Slowly, the two would start meeting up after matches to work on their attacks, trying to find other ways to merge their works together. And with that, they slowly became friends, finding one another awake during ungodly hours, in the dropship alone after everyone left to go out to Mirage's bar, talking about how unfair humanity really is, and just much more in general.

And during the end battle, when they both pant out of breath from just killing the last team of Pathfinder, Wattson and Ajay, they both can't help but chuckle at how far they've come as teammates and at how Crypto is so utterly dumbfounded when Bloodhound asked him out while pulling out the crinkled flower from the pocket of their jacket. The flower was missing a few petals and the stem was snapped, damaged from all the shots fired at the hunter.

But the dismantled flower is made up with the nervous laugh Crypto starts up, flustered completely as Bloodhound can't help but laugh along as the hacker covers his face and looked away. Slowly taking the flower from the hunters hold and scoffing with a smile at the cheesy gesture.

"That was unnecessary"

"But I thought people enjoyed theese kinds of things?"

"Dumbasses do"

Bloodhound sighed and rubbed the back of their neck "I'll take it back if you prefer, it is a bit beaten up afterall"

"I never said that I didn't enjoy that, I just said that it was unnecessary winning the game and then asking me out" Crypto knacked the front of Bloodhound's helmet with his knuckle, causing the hunter to slowly slip their hand off their neck, letting the words sink in.

". . . by odin you make everything confusing!" They laughed groggily as Crypto scoffed and took Bloodhound's hand after a bit of hesitation, waiting for the pick-up ship to land. "You're just knuckle headed"

#apex crypto #apex legends crypto #crypthound #crypto x bloodhound #bloodhound x crypto #apex bloodhound #apex legends bloodhound #apex legends #apexlegends #apexlegends bloodhound #I will sink with this damn ship

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years

Text

all is soft inside chapter 4

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475064/chapters/64695070

previous | next

4. running with the wolves

Mirage picks up an R-301 and lets out a huge sigh of relief. He quickly removes every attachment from his Alternator and swaps it over to the new gun, and dumps the old one on the floor. Good riddance, he thinks. He hates the Alternator. It feels too choppy and unpredictable in his hands. The smoothness of the R-301 made it a favorite weapon of his. He holsters it, picks up a stray box of heavy ammo, and loads that into his Wingman. “Hey kids,” he says to the comms piece in his ear. “If you see a good old Skullpiercer anywhere, let me know.”

He was doing surprisingly well today. I guess ‘well’ is a relative term, he thinks. At least we weren’t first blood again. The teams list this morning made him dread his very existence. Today Mirage is teamed up with Caustic and Crypto. Crypto he could handle, but Caustic? God, he hated that guy. Nox was so snide and rude to everyone around him. His attitude was as toxic as his experiments, and Mirage couldn’t stand being around him.

“Skullpiercer here,” Caustic announces.

Ugh. Gross, Mirage thinks. “Hey, thanks buddy! I’ll grab that.” He trots down the stairs and makes his way over to the next building to pick up the attachment. Caustic is behind the counter, setting a trap in the corner by the door. Crypto is crouched over in the storage room, observing his drone through a holographic screen.

“Two squads in my drone range,” Crypto calls. “We should make our way over the hill to Fragment East. We need to go now so we don’t get pinched.”

“No,” Caustic disputes. “We can lie in wait for them here. I believe all our Ultimates are charged, yes?”

“Yes, but we need to beat them up the hill,” Crypto replies. “If we do not take the position now, we will be overrun.

“Are you afraid, Crypto?” Caustic sneers. “It seems that you feel threatened, do you not?”

“Maybe it is you who should be afraid, Nox,” Crypto says, a hint of venom in his voice.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, kids!” Mirage says nervously. “Let’s break up the catfight! Listen, Caustic, Crypto is right. We’ve got to take the choke point before anyone else does.”

“Suit yourself,” Caustic responds. He staunchly ignores the two of them and moves to the other door to set the next trap.

Mirage sighs. Dammit, he thinks. These two are insufferable. “Come on, Crypto, let’s leave Mr. Gas Man alone to do his dirty work.” He attaches the Skullpiercer to his Wingman, jogs out of the room, and begins to head up the hill.

“Fine, old man.” Crypto follows suit, skirting around the buildings and sticking to the mountainside.

“Old man?” Mirage shouts, annoyed. They ascend the hill swiftly. “Come on kid, you’ve gotta let that slide! You’ve been calling me that ever since-”

kzzzhhhCRACK!

The sound of a fully charged Sentinel rips through the air, and the accompanying bullet hits Crypto squarely in the chest. He yells something in Korean that Mirage doesn’t understand, and scrambles up the ledges underneath the giant overhang.

kzzzhhhCRACK! Another charged bullet flies directly in front of Mirage’s nose, missing him narrowly. “DAMMIT!” he yells. He releases all of his clones, hoping to distract the other team for just long enough to join Crypto on the ledge. The echoes of you got bamboozled! smack against the canyon walls, multiplying until it puts a ring in Elliott’s ears. He rushes up the ledges and crouches, trying to take aim with his Wingman.

Bloodhound, Wattson, and Octane speed up the hill with inhuman swiftness, pursuing Mirage and Crypto relentlessly. Mirage takes aim at Wattson with his Wingman and fires. His hands are shaking from the escape, and he misses the first three. The next two hit her in the shoulder and stomach respectively, and her shields sputter, but hold. Crypto fires his G7 at Octane, but Mirage is too distracted to see whether or not he lands his shots.

“Caustic!” he calls, swapping to his R-301. “These guys are feeling ag- agn- aggre- FEISTY today, so I’m gonna try and draw them down to the city. You come up behind and cut off their retreat!”

“Understood,” the trapper responds.

Uh… did he just agree with me? “Wow, okay, great! I’ll see-”

“Move, you imbecile!”

“Uh- right!” Mirage quickly fires a clip of his AR at Wattson, then dashes down the hill towards Fragment. He tosses a decoy to the side, hoping to throw off his pursuers once more. Crypto tosses his drone into the air, and positions it in a perfect spot to detect any enemies coming up the hill. He follows Mirage, taking shots at Octane with his Prowler as he goes. He backs up and hides behind a small outcropping of rock just as Mirage makes it to the halfway point.

An otherworldly roar splits the air.

Mirage slides behind a large shipping crate, and tries to see what the hell is going on. Crypto’s drone indicates two hostiles, further up the hill, but the third is nowhere to be seen. Where…? Caustic’s gas canister arcs far above all their heads, and explodes upon impact, cloaking them all in a green mist. Just as Crypto begins to activate his EMP, his drone is shot down, and the indicators disappear. The steady beating of bullets rings in Mirage’s ears, and he calls out to his team. “What’s going on? I thought you guys were gonna choke them!”

“Shut up!” Crypto yells in frustration. “You abandoned us!”

A cold feeling grips Elliott’s chest, and he stops in his tracks, breathing hard. “Look, it’s not my fault you guys are completely incompetent-”

A pair of glowing, red eyes emerges from the toxic mist, and the words in Elliott’s mouth fizzle out and die. Bloodhound swipes the gas away, and sprints down the hill, low to the ground, surrounded by an electric red energy that makes Elliott’s eyes water. Even from where Elliott is, he can hear how hard Bloodhound is breathing. They flip a small, lethal looking axe in their hand as they run, and Elliott is scared for his life. He’s seen Bloodhound while they were Ulting before, but never like this. He’s rarely ever been on the receiving end.

Bloodhound is a beast of deadly precision, flying down the hill as smoothly and imperceptibly as their raven companion would. It seems like lightning strikes with every step, and Elliott just gazes at them, absolutely dumbfounded. They’re a magnificent creature, exuding pure power and dignity and strength. Too late, he realizes that he should, in fact, be getting ready to shoot at them. That familiar feeling in his stomach clenches both pleasantly and unpleasantly, and he takes aim with his Wingman.

The first shot misses completely, but part of Elliott doesn’t even care. Part of him just wants to watch Bloodhound and nothing else. You dumbass! Why are you so useless? Stop freaking out like a six year old girl and SHOOT! He shakes his head, and takes aim once more. The next three shots land perfectly on Bloodhound’s head and chest, putting a sizable amount of damage into their red shield. Bloodhound swiftly pulls out an R-99 and fires at Elliott’s head and chest, ripping through his purple shield with ease. Dammit! Elliott dives back behind the storage crate and throws out a decoy, taking the brief moment he has to reload both of his weapons. His breathing is ragged, heavy, and it almost keeps him from hearing what’s going on.

Elliott darts out from his hiding space, taking aim at Bloodhound’s head with his Carbine. Except… Bloodhound isn’t there. He turns around, and immediately gets shot in the chest with their R-99. Elliott falls to the ground, bleeding and gasping, and his head hits the dirt, hard. His vision spins, and bile rises to his throat. Bloodhound stands above him, still crackling with electric energy, breathing hard. They reach in their pockets for something shiny and silver. The ringing in Elliott’s ears reaches a deadly pitch, and he hears something he vaguely recognizes.

“Fyrirgefðu mér.”

Bloodhound’s axe embeds itself into Elliott’s helmet, and everything goes dark.

#apex legends #miragehound #mirage apex #bloodhound apex #mirage apex legends #bloodhound apex legends #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #my writing #apex #apex legends fanfiction

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Four)

This chapter turned out different than I planned, but if there’s one thing I learned, it’s to let stories do whatever they want because Free Range Plots are much more fun to read than plotted, planned and outlined ones.

Note: while this story isn’t actually D/s, I have given ‘subspace’ a MTW/ABO twist and I sort of love it. Hope everyone else does too!

Also, I love snarky Hank Pym so much omg his character in the Ant Man movies was amazing.

MTW MASTERLIST HERE

*******************

Hank Pym had an entire list of people he never wanted to see knocking at his front door.

Tony Stark topped the list, Tony Stark’s uncomfortably intimidating assistant Pepper Potts was a close second. Norman Osborn wasn’t even allowed within a hundred yards of the property-- or was it that Hank wasn’t allowed within a hundred yards of Norman Osborn? Restraining orders between old men fighting over physics were so complicated-- and even though Scott Lang was well on his way to becoming part of the family, Hank didn’t particularly want to see him at three in the morning either.

The very last person Hank was expecting to see on the other side of his door was the mutant cyborg Cable, and though he would happily die before admitting he screamed when that metallic yellow eye zeroed in on him---

“Shit!” Hank tried to slam the door right in Cable’s face, shrieked a little when metal fingers grasped around the edges and pried it back open, and then shrieked a little louder when the heavy door came right off its hinges as Cable barreled inside.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Hank swept a shock of silver hair away from his eyes and puffed out his chest, folding his arms and rocking up onto his toes and doing everything possible to appear bigger than his several inches shorter than the Alpha. “You can’t just run in here like you own the place! Who the hell do you think you are!?”

“You know who I am.” Cable didn’t bother hiding his smirk over Hank’s floor length striped robe and color coordinated slippers. “Nice jammies.”

“I’m insisting I don’t know who you are, so when I’m taken to court for whatever mayhem you’re about to unleash on Manhattan, I can truthfully say I had no prior notice of your bullshit.” the Beta retorted. “Get out. Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

“My kind.” Cable dumped his utility bag out onto the nearest surface and rifled through the assorted items. “Pretty bold words coming from someone who’s future son in law has a standing appointment at the local prison.”

“Scott’s a good kid, he’s just a dumbass.” Hank defended. “And by your kind I meant you, specifically. You, Cable, are not welcome here. The last time you ended up in my neighborhood you tried to steal my tech and destroy my gardenias. You need to leave. Take that bionic arm and creepy eye and your fanny pack and get out.”

“It’s a utility bag.” Cable held a computer chip up towards the genius. “And I’m not going to apologize for your gardenias. They weren’t prize winning no matter what the old lady across the street told you. Are you going to help me or what?”

“It’s absolutely a fanny pack and no, I won’t be helping you.” the Beta inched forward a step, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What is that? Why is it glowing gold?”

“I thought you weren’t going to help me.” Cable taunted, holding the chip away when Hank reached for it. “Or did you change your mind?”

“I’m not going to help you.” With a quickness that belied his nearly eighty years, Hank grabbed at a small remote and pressed the button. There was a whir and a pulse, and Cable’s left arm dropped limp and useless, the chip falling from his fingers.

“Gotcha.” Hank darted forward and grabbed it, ducking back out of the way as the robotic pieces of Cable’s body came back on line. “You like that? Pocket sized EMP. I know that shiny shit up your neck is more techno organic than mechanical, but an EMP will stun anything for a few seconds.”

“Congratulations.” Cable said flatly. “You stunned me for a few seconds and got your hands on the computer chip. What now?”

“Now you can leave.” Hank flipped on a lamp and studied the piece under brighter light. “But before you go, tell me what this is?”

“It is part of the computer that controls my time travel device.” the Alpha admitted, and Hank’s eyes widened in excitement. “It’s all I have left, actually. A back up to my main piece. My device was...taken… and now I need to build a new one.”

“The mighty time traveling Cable stuck in the year twenty nineteen?” Hank whistled in mock sympathy. “Got your fancy time traveling gadget stolen, huh? Who took it from you?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Irritation blanketed Cable’s scent, but Hank Pym was a Beta and gave exactly zero fucks what an Alpha scented like. “You need to help me build another one.”

“Oh-ho, I think I do not.” Hank ran a curious finger over the glowing chip. “Why does it light up like this? Is it like the glow of my Pym particles?”

“Pym particles.” Cable rolled his eyes. “You’re a few years ahead of this timeline’s science and think you can just name sub atomic particles after yourself. You know what we call them in my timeline?” Hank’s eyes narrowed and Cable finished bluntly, “Trash. Pym particles are trash because we’ve moved beyond them. Now are you going to help or not?”

“Right.” Hank turned the chip over a few times. “Remind me why I’d help you now that you’ve thoroughly insulted my life’s work?”

“Because you’re desperate to know how time travel works.” The Alpha unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to the scientist. “And because you’re so damn curious you’re gonna throw me out tonight, then fuss and fidget for a few days, and then call me and act huffy about helping. How about we skip all of that and you just help me now?”

The muscle in the Beta’s jaw jumped as Hank ground his teeth together and glowered, but finally he snatched the list from Cable and read through it, muttering under his breath the entire time.

And finally, “I have most of this on hand. A couple items will take me a week to get my hands on but some of these?” he shook his head. “Cable, I don’t know what’s just laying around on grocery store shelves in your timeline, but these sort of things are locked up tight in all the places the government swears they aren’t stockpiling weapons of mass destruction and doomsday devices. I can’t just waltz in the front door, have a cashier ring me up, and then waltz back out with this in a paper bag.”

“You tell me where to find it, I’ll get in and grab it.” Cable maintained. “You get me the rest. Then I’ll need your lab for the finer work.”

“No no no, you aren’t listening to me.” Hank stabbed his finger at the list. “Even if I called in a few favors and managed to get my hands on it, those phone calls would end with me being tossed down a dark hole and probably charged with war crimes and consorting with terrorists. No. No, I’m not doing it.”

“Hank--”

“How do you lose a time travel device anyway!” Agitated now, the Beta crumpled the list up and tossed it back at Cable. “Don’t you have a spare?”

“I have the one.” Cable said in frustration. “I have charges for it and enough pieces to make minor repairs, but it’s gone and now I have to build a rudimentary piece from scratch to get back to my timeline and retrieve a newer one to return to the past!”

“Why the past!” Hank threw up his hands. “Why does it matter? Why did you pound on my door at three in the morning to ask me something imposs--”

“It’s a kid.” Cable cut in, and Hank’s mouth shut with an audible click. “He’s just a kid, twenty something years old, scrappy little Omega is all. He ended up activating the device without meaning to and now he and the dial are gone. I need a new one so I can go and get him back.”

“So you know where he is.”

“I know exactly where he is.” Cable nodded. “I had the dial pre set to a specific year, just gotta jump back and drag him back before it’s too late.”

“...what’s too late?” Hank swallowed and took the list again, scanning through it a second time. “When will it be too late?”

“Don’t worry about that.” the Alpha waved the question off. “How soon can you have this all for me?”

“It will take a few months.” Hank felt around for a pen and started making calculations. “Most of the pieces are easy to get, assembling them into such a delicate device is completely different. The more difficult items will take several weeks to get in, I’ll have to treat the wires, build a circuit board, all that sort of thing. And the more impossible things could take months if I can get them at all.”

“You have ninety days.” Cable said flatly and Hank gaped at him.

“Were you listening to what I said? It could a month and a half just to track down some of these, and the rest I’ll have to call in favors for, sell my soul and probably sign over Hope’s first born child! I can’t do it in--”

“You have ninety days.” the mutant said again. “I have to get that kid and get him back within ninety days.”

“What happens in ninety days?” Hank held up a hand stubbornly when Cable tried to argue. “No, you need to tell me. What happens in ninety days if I can’t get all this material?”

Cable swallowed, guilt laying heavy over his shoulders. “When a human is placed into a timeline other than their own, their body stops working. Blood cells stop regenerating, wounds won’t heal, a cold could actually kill them because their immune system can’t rally. Anything other than their basic functions grinds to a halt. Sometimes mental stability is affected, other times it eats away at them visibly-- hair falling out, loss of hearing, severe eczema, all of that.”

“What?”

“This is a virus.” Cable tapped at the metal leeched into his neck. “I’m not a cyborg, I’m not a robot. I’m sick. I don’t belong in the future timeline, I was sent there as a child and was infected with this virus. Every time I use my device it takes over my body a little bit more until one day there won’t be anything of me left. But I’m mutant, so it's a slower progression. On a human, it won’t be slow at all.”

“Ninety days.” Hank stared stunned, the color draining from his face. “Red blood cells only last about a hundred and fifteen days before our body breaks them down, is that why it’s ninety days? Anything past that and his body starts to shut down entirely?”

“If he gets a bad cut, he’ll die because his body isn’t making anything new to replace what’s lost.” Cable stated. “If he gets a cold, it will turn into fatal pneumonia within a matter of days. A fever could end him by sun down, an allergic reaction could kill him within minutes. This is life or death, Hank. Are you going to help me or not?”

“Ninety days.” the Beta looked back down at the list. “I can get this in ninety days. Maybe even sooner.”

“Maybe make it sooner.” Cable grunted. “You let me know how I can help. And Hank?”

Hank looked up and Cable offered him a half smile. “Thank you.”

The mutant was out of the house and gone a moment later, leaving Hank holding the paper and the computer chip as the cold night air wound in through the broken door.

“Prick.” he muttered to no one in particular. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for the kid.” and then quieter, “And because I am dying to know how time travel works.”

“Ninety days. I can do this.”

***************

Peter hummed to himself as he gathered eggs, shooing the chickens away from their nests and tucking the eggs in the pocket of his hoodie. He’d never put even a split second of thought into where his breakfast came from but apparently chickens only lay one egg a day which meant his favorite brunch meal of three egg omelets was the combined effort of three different chickens and that-- that just didn’t seem right.

Looking down at the five meager eggs, Peter made a silent vow to never eat more than two at a time anymore, especially since Wade more than likely ate all five and was giving up part of his breakfast for Peter.

“You look awfully stressed out for having tussled with chickens.” Wade flashed his fangs in a teasing grin when Peter made it back inside. “Figured after three days the birds would stop giving you grief. Which one did you poke in the butt?”

“I didn’t poke anyone in the butt.” Peter huffed, and the Alpha’s smile stretched wider. “It’s just um--”

“Just what?” Wade could fit all five eggs in his big palm without even stretching, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Peter, even though he didn’t let himself linger too long on the fact that Wade had big feet too. We all know what that means. “What’s on your mind, Pete?”

“Um, it’s stupid.” Peter grabbed at his notebook and jotted down a few lines. “I just never put any thought into where my food came from or how much effort goes into making it.”

“...it takes two minutes to collect eggs, Pete.”

“No.” Peter shook his head. “No I mean. Chickens only lay one egg a day.” Wade blinked at him and Peter gestured vaguely. “My normal breakfast is the work of three chickens, a cow or goat, and someone who has to plant and harvest vegetables!”

“Yeah.” Wade cracked the eggs into a pan. “And?”

“And.” Peter emphasized. “I just go to the grocery store and buy a dozen eggs, a quart of milk and grab a tomato on my way up to the register. I never put any thought into how much effort goes into food. It’s about enough to turn someone vegan.”

“And vegan means…”

“I won’t eat any product that comes from an animal.” Peter stared down at his cup of milk. “Even though I feel like that barely works in my time where I can buy basically anything at the store, I’ll definitely starve to death here if I have to live on pine cones or something.”

“Yeah it’d be a real shame if you starved to death.” The Alpha stirred at their breakfast for a minute and then dropped a slab of meat into a frying pan. “I got five chickens because I usually eat five eggs and then I butcher them in the hard parts of winter so they don’t freeze and so I have fresh meat. I keep a goat for the milk and two horses to help haul the wagon. It’s not like I’m over hunting deer for the sport of it or keeping so many chickens I just end up attracting coyotes and mountain lions. If I don’t eat--”

“No.” Peter held up his hand to quiet Wade. “No, I’m not saying you’re wrong for needing to hunt or anything. I’m just saying that the-- wow the sheer amount of eggs and meat and milk that people in my timeline go through and now that I know a chicken only lays one egg a day it’s just… It’s sort of awful.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re here now.” Wade turned the meat over and raised his eyebrows at Peter. “Right? Because it’s not awful.”

“It’s decidedly not awful.” Peter agreed, a faint blush climbing his cheeks when the Alpha rumbled at him softly. “And thank you for breakfast. I promise I can actually cook though, so maybe tomorrow morning you let me try?”

Tomorrow morning. The words came so easily, the assumption and acceptance that Peter would be there another day something that made both Alpha and Omega smile.

Four days had come and gone since Logan’s visit, and every day Peter woke up a little more rested, a little more peaceful.

He followed Wade along with chores and helped where he could, spent long hours exploring the surrounding forest while Wade worked on the cabin or chopped wood, and at evening they ate dinner together, talking quietly about the day and sharing increasingly warm smiles. Peter would write down all the new things he learned, Wade would patiently try to answer a litany of questions and Peter would exclaim in delight every time he figured out an answer before Wade could tell him.

Every night Wade motioned Peter towards the bed and Peter would put up a fuss about how Wade should be sleeping in the bed. The Alpha would growl a little and demand, Peter would huff and turn his nose up but inevitably, he would snuggle down into heavy blankets and Wade would watch protectively until the Omega slipped away into dreams.

It was the easiest thing in the world to move around each other, to move with each other, to laugh and talk and find conversation and for the first time in years Peter asked questions without urgency, wanted to know without feeling like he might explode if he didn’t, he was learning without painfully, desperately searching.

Wade’s scent wrapped safe around him at night, the cabin air saturated with contentment, and even though neither Peter nor Wade had re- introduced the topic of their scents matching or how they knew each other, there wasn’t really words for what they felt anyway.

The knowing was more than words, it was more than what Peter had read about in romance novels, more than what science could explain away, the sort of comfort and security that settled soul deep despite knowing Cable could return any minute and take him away.

They weren’t ready to think about that though, not about Cable and not about saying goodbye when they were still just barely skating along the surface of the bond sparking between their souls.

No, Peter was more than willing to put Cable out of his mind for right now and focus on learning everything he could about Wade’s world… and perhaps focusing on pulling as many fanged smiles from the Alpha as he could.

And it was this focus that led directly to Peter deciding he wanted to help Wade out more by taking on another chore, which in turn led directly to the Omega staring down a goat and immediately wondering if he’d made a mistake.

Offering to clean the cabin would have been a better idea.

“Alright Goat.” Peter eyed the beast warily, bucket clutched in one hand, a chunk of dandelions held in the other. “You got milk, I need the milk, are you gonna be cool about this or what?”

The goat bleated and stamped it’s little hoof.

“What was that?” Peter asked suspiciously. “Was that a yes? Are you saying yes? Gonna give it up for some dandelions?”

Wade was busy working tangles from Bea’s mane so he didn’t witness the head butting but he definitely heard the Omega squawk in outrage, heard the goat bellow in triumph, and when Peter came out of the barn spitting both hay and curses, Wade turned back to the roan so his laughter wasn’t quite so obvious.

“I can hear you.” Peter snapped and Wade tried even harder to muffle it. “That Billy goat knocked me right over! Does it do that to you?”

“First of all,” Wade smoothed his fingers through Bea’s mane and patted the mare on the neck to shoo her on. “That’s a nanny goat, not a billy goat. Billy goats are boys, nanny goats give milk. What did you think you were tugging on down there to get white stuff to shoot out?”

Peter's jaw dropped, his perfect lips opening in an shocked ‘oh’ at Wade’s phrasing. “I— um— I mean I wasn’t—“ Wade waited until he finished lamely. “I wasn’t tugging. Not yet anyway. I got head butted before I could try.”

“Fair enough.” Wade’s scent colored amused and the Omega turned bright red. “C’mon, get your bucket and I’ll show you. Come on.”

Peter grumbled under his breath as he followed Wade back into the barn, but he still dragged the stool over and paid close attention as Wade led the goat back over and tethered her to a short post, putting a pile of food in front of the animal to keep her distracted.

“See this? Milking post. Keeps her from running.” Wade smoothed his hands down the goat’s back and patted her rump. “Make sure she knows where you are, talk to her a little. She might be an animal but that doesn’t mean she likes being yanked on any more than a person would, you know? Easy and steady, firm but not painful. Look.”

Peter watched in fascination as milk hit the bucket in steady streams, Wade making the motions with no visible effort at all. “It doesn’t hurt her?”

“It’s more of a relief.” Wade trilled at the goat when she balked away from Peter. “She had kids this past spring so she’s pretty full of milk still. When we go to town, I’ll get her bred up with one of the town billies so her production stays up. There will be a few months in the spring where we don’t have milk cos she’s nursing but otherwise she puts out all year.”

“Is she acting weird around me because I’m new?” Peter picked up the nearly trampled dandelions and offered them to the goat again. “Or am I doing something wrong?”

“You smell off.” Wade eased off the goat and got up from the stool, motioning for Peter to take his place. “Humans don’t like the scent of mutants because we scent wild. Animals like our scent just fine. S’why the wolf pups follow Logan. They recognize the wild in him.”

“You don’t smell weird to me.” Peter settled onto the stool and petted at the animal awkwardly. “I think you smell good.”

“Yeah well,” Wade cleared his throat, swallowing back a burble of happiness. “That’s because if you told me I stunk, I’d kick you out and make you fend for yourself.”

“You’re right, that’s exactly what it is.” Peter wrinkled his nose teasingly, then put cautious hands on the goat. “Is this right? It doesn’t feel right. In fact it feels a little… ick.”

“You’re basically right.” Wade crouched behind the Omega, big arms circling Peter's lean frame so he could cover Peter's hands with his own and better direct each motion. “Feel that? A little pressure and it will give, and then right here where you meet some resistance, back off. No no don’t let go.” He recaptured Peters hands. “You let go and she thinks you’re done. Always hands on.”

“How do I know when she’s empty?” Peter’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Do I keep going until she’s all the way dry or stop before then?”

“You’ll feel when she’s about done, but you do wanna get her empty.” Wade let Peter take over the milking again, but didn’t move from behind the Omega. “Leave too much and her body thinks she doesn’t need to produce and then we end up with no milk at all. And having a full udder for too long can give her an infection.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, eyes trained on the bucket and the stream of milk. “We do this twice a day?”

“Twice a day, and once you get comfortable it shouldn’t take you more than five or six minutes.” Wade confirmed. “Think you can handle it?”

“I think it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you watched me a few times to make sure I’m not hurting her.” Peter clicked at the goat when she shifted uncertainly. “Would you mind?”

Wade would certainly not mind sitting here twice a day with Peter cradled between his thighs, the Omega’s thick hair in his nose and back fit to his chest. Peter hadn’t seemed to notice yet that Wade was practically hugging him, that all he’d have to do was turn his head and their lips would meet, or scoot back a few inches to plaster their bodies together.

He was so close and here in the barn the Omega’s honeysuckle scent mixed with sun warmed hay, lavender underscoring the earthier tones of animal and it would have been so easy for Wade to shift forward and bury his nose in Peter’s hair, to inhale deep and get scent drunk right then and there.

Tempting.

“‘Course I don't mind helping.” Wade tried for teasing but it fell flat as his entire body tightened with a surge of longing . “Last thing I need is you pissing off the goat and her giving me spoiled milk, right?”

“Ugh. Right.” Peter laughed quietly. “You’d kick me out for sure then, wouldn't you?”

“Without even hesitating.” Wade said immediately and Peter laughed again.

There really was something sort of relaxing about this particular chore. Sunlight was streaming bright through the open barn doors and settling warm over their shoulders. The goat was calm and the steady crunch of it eating was oddly comforting. Peter could hear Bea and Arthur stamping around in the yard and their soft nickers and neighs as they talked to each other, and beyond that was the sound of birds in the trees and the whistle of autumn wind through branches.

Wade was set right behind him, the Alpha solid and steady, soothing and dependable, dark licorice scent like caramel flowing thick through Peter’s veins, the cedar bringing to mind long summer days and lazy naps in the sunshine.

Not that he needed a nap, no Peter had slept better in Wade’s bed the last several nights than he had in months. The mattress was barely comfortable but somehow Peter sank right into it and passed out almost immediately. Dreams that had been almost nightmares before were now nothing more than vague impressions of calm and home and even though waking up to a cold cabin wasn’t easy, it was wonderful to sit up and stretch and watch Wade’s eyes light red and possessive for just a split second before the Alpha got himself under control again.

Never once had Peter thought to want an Alpha outside his heat, but oh he wanted Wade and the sudden shift made his fingers tremble, his heart pound.

“Easy. Let up now.” The Alpha’s deep voice was low and smooth in Peter’s ear, breaking into his thoughts and pulling him back to the moment. “She’s all done, Pete. Don’t want to stress her out.”

“Hm?” Peter blinked a few times, lethargic and lazy and not wanting to break the hazy spell that had fallen over them. “Oh. Oh sorry. Is she okay?”

The goat bleated at Peter in annoyance and side stepped away, so Wade reached with one hand to undo her tether and send her out into the yard, then murmured, “It’s alright. You didn’t hurt her.” and pressed at Peter’s side gently, before spreading his fingers out over the Omega’s stomach so Peter wouldn’t move away quite yet. “Are you okay? Seems like I lost you there for a minute.”

“Yeah, I just sort of--” Peter’s mouth felt dry, his tongue thick and head fuzzy and he closed his eyes to the pull of slumber. “--just sort of floated away. I dunno what happened.”

“Floated away…” Wade hesitated. “...in a bad way?”

“Mmmm, no.” he hummed a little and turned in Wade’s arms, tucking his nose into the Alpha’s neck and parting his lips to take a slow breath in. “No, I got tired all the sudden and I feel… spacey. Sorry.”

“Christ.” Wade slipped his hand over Peter’s stomach and around to the side, holding the Omega tight to his chest and shuddering when Peter only sighed and settled firmer into his shoulder. “No, don’t apologize. This is-- this is fine. I’ve got you. Just… just keep floatin’ Pete. I’ve got you.”

Peter’s smile was soft and secret, fingers clutched into Wade’s shirt and frame limp and trusting and the Alpha whispered, “Stay right here.”

It had been so long since Vanessa had passed that Wade had forgotten about this, forgotten about the way two bodies could yearn and linger and the way one partner could fall into a lazy sort of euphoria just because there was nothing better than being held safe in the others arms.

Vanessa had been an Alpha, so these sort of moments had been few and far between but Wade remembered slow nights watching the fire as she drew mindless patterns on his chest and how he’d slipped deeper and deeper under until he could have sworn the stars were shining bright right there in their cabin. He remembered Vanessa wearing nothing more than his shirt, fangs glinting as she laughed, all her edges softened and blurred as he brushed her hair or whispered sweet things into her skin as she tumbled into brilliant nothingness where the only thing that mattered was the pressure of his fingers and the rumble of his voice.

And now Peter was tipping over the edge with nothing more than sunshine and Wade holding him close. He was gorgeous, breath taking even, and it was all Wade could do not to gather the Omega up and carry him to the cabin and lay claim to him properly.

But it wasn’t the right time, it may never be the right time, not when their realities were so far separated and not when Cable was bound to return and take Peter away.

It wasn’t the right time and the thought made Wade’s blood rush hot, his fangs aching as the instinct to claim now before it was too late flashed through his core. His scent roiled sharp, fingers gripping too tight, and the change had Peter shifting against him, the Omega’s perfectly pert nose wrinkling in distress.

“No no no, no distress.” Wade tried to calm his scent, to loosen his hold. “Easy Omega, little Omega, it’s alright. Settle down.”

“Mmm.” Peter hummed and stilled again, and Wade ignored the burn in his thighs from crouching so long, the ache in his back from being bent into such a weird position, and mentally willed the Omega to stay.

Please stay.

Please don’t leave me.

They sat together for a while, and would have sat together long enough for Wade’s legs to go entirely numb if the goat hadn’t interrupted the quiet moment with an aggressively annoyed noise from outside. Wade’s heart twisted when Peter’s eyes opened wide in surprise, and then shuttered in shyness, his cheeks stained red as he peeked up from beneath his lashes.

“We probably have more chores to do?” he whispered, and Wade whispered back, “I can do them, why don’t you go rest?”

“I’m not tired anymore.” Peter denied, but the stretch and wriggle and sleepy sigh he gave said something different. Need punched Wade straight through the stomach as the Omega’s shirt rode up to expose perfect skin, Peter’s satisfied moan as he came back to himself enough to have the Alpha biting his tongue until it bled. “Okay, maybe just a short nap.”

“That’s fine.” Wade managed. “You need help back to the cabin?”

“I’m pretty sure I can walk.” Peter teased him, but standing on wobbly legs was more difficult than he imagined, and he pitched forward a little, catching himself on Wade’s shoulders. “Wow. Sorry. Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s fine.” Wade ran gentle hands up Peter’s long legs to settle at his waist, holding the Omega steady. “It’s-- shit, Pete. This is fine. How are you feeling? Still floaty?”

“Feel like I’m coming back around now.” From this angle Peter was staring right down at the Alpha, rubbing his thumbs over Wade’s collarbone and the scars at the base of his neck. His eyes were lit with curiosity but not disgust, maybe even affection and Wade held his breath and waited for the inevitable questions---

“Does this hurt?” Peter asked softly and that-- that wasn’t what Wade had been expecting at all.

“What?”

“Does it hurt when I touch you?” Peter clarified. “If I touch you here?” his fingers slid under the shirt collar just a bare inch, and Wade felt the touch like a brand at his soul. God, how long had it been since anyone had touched him like this? “Do the scars hurt?”

“No.” Wade shook his head, his scent filtering thankful when Peter flattened his palms to touch more skin. “Not anymore. They only hurt when I get a new one, but once they fade, I don’t notice anymore. Looks worse than it feels.”

“When you get a new one.” Peter swept his fingers up along Wade’s neck, trilling sweetly when the Alpha tipped his head into his palm. “How often do you get a new one?”

“...one part of my mutation is that I heal.” Wade explained slowly. “I heal from everything. But the scars never go away. Every cut, every broken bone, every scrape stays on my skin forever. The older I get the worse it becomes.”

“How old are you?” Gentle so gentle over Wade’s bare scalp, a soft hush when Wade shuddered. “How long have you been collecting scars? Logan said he fought in all the wars with you, what does that mean? How old are you?”

Wade hesitated, wet his lips and steeled himself for shock and rejection before finally admitting, “Logan and I met during the war of 1812. I’d recently lost my mate Vanessa and when war broke out I went and lost myself in the fighting. Men like Logan and I-- you find each other when you’re the only ones walking off a battlefield full of dead men.”

“1812.” Peter repeated, and unbelievably, his beautiful mouth tipped up in a smile. “That’s amazing. So you-- you’re a hundred years old? Older?”

“I’m not sure of my exact birthday.” Wade swallowed, pressed at Peter's waist coaxingly. “You’re not going to ask about Vanessa?”

“I’m so sorry you had to lose her.” Peter inched closer, lips parting over a shaky sigh when Wade’s hold tightened. “She was your first mate? Have you-- have you had one since?”

Just you. “...no.” Wade shook his head. “I never thought I’d get another chance at a scent match and a soul bond.”

“Oh.” Another sigh, this one even more unsteady. “A hundred years you’ve been collecting scars, you’ve bonded and lost her, and now you and I-- um, you and I--” the Omega bit at his lip shyly. “You’re beautiful, Wade. Incredible. I wish I knew all your stories.”

“Stick around.” Wade waggled his eyebrows to break the tension, and obligingly, Peter laughed. “I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

“Plan on it.” Peter finally leaned away, clearing his throat and blinking the last of the daze from his eyes. “Chores?”

“I thought you were going to take a nap.” Wade stood gingerly, stretching his sore muscles until the hurt bled away. “Go lay down, Omega. I’ll wake you in time for dinner.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Wade jerked his head towards the cabin, then turned away so he wouldn’t be tempted to follow Peter to bed. “Go on. See you tonight.”

*************

It wasn’t easy for Peter to wake up in a cold cabin, or stumble from the bed to splash ice water on his face to help with chores, but it was easy to look up with a smile for the Alpha when Wade offered him a cup of too strong coffee to help him face the day.

It wasn’t easy to learn how to milk the goat, or to dry his clothes when Peter inevitably knocked the milk bucket over, or to keep the goat tethered tight enough to not move too far but not so tight that the ornery thing yelled at him the entire time.

But oh it was easy to blush when Wade looked up and caught Peter shirtless as he tried to wring out the wet, the Alpha’s eyes lighting red and scent charging eager for a few breathless seconds.

And it really wasn’t easy to force himself to eat red meat, but this life required more energy than Peter was used to. He couldn’t survive on beans, eggs and bread forever, so he sat down for dinner each night and ate tiny bites so his stomach wouldn’t hurt.

It wasn’t easy, but it was so very easy to trill sweetly when Wade tried so hard to pile mushrooms and wild carrots on the plate along with nuts and berries he found around the property.

“I thought you said I had to find my own salad.” Peter teased one night as Wade produced an entire bowl of gathered greens. “Are you a gatherer now, Wade?”

“It took you so long to milk the goat, I figured I should help you out with the salad thing.” Wade deadpanned, and Peter laughed at him, clear and cheerful and the Alpha only rumbled in response, closing his eyes to inhale sweet happy Omega scent.

Nothing about this life was easy, but it was so easy to live this life with Wade, Peter found himself forgetting this all had an expiration date.

He could stay here forever.

*****************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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#ncts fics #spideypool #peter parker #wade wilson #cable #time travel #abo dynamics #soulmates #hank pym #alpha wade wilson #omega peter parker

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s-j-ace · 4 years

Text

The Same Question

Chapter Four

Characters: Shuichi Saihara, Ouma Kokichi

Words: 10040

Summary:

After Detective Shuichi Saihara encounters mysterious thief Kokichi Ouma for the first time, a game of cat and mouse ensues as both men ask themselves the same question. Why exactly does the elusive phantom thief do what he does?

This is Chapter Four, Here are Chapters One, Two, and Three

Read on AO3

[Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: Me

Hey Miu

I got a friend I’m dropping off in Taipei tomorrow

Could you lend him a room

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Idk

I’m a busy genius

Is he cute

From: Me

[Image description: A candid photo of Shuichi Saihara sleeping on a seat in Rantarou’s private jet.]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hell fucking yes

From: Me

Awesome!

Thanks for being a good friend Miu

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

From: Me

Also btw

He’s Kaede’s ex

So as a good friend you know he’s off limits right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Oh fuck you rich boy

From: Me

Thanks again Miu! --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Dinosaur soccer world Is a Cinematic Epic” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss sent an image to the chat

[Image is a screenshot of an image which reads the following:

Draft 1, Uncoded, DO NOT MAIL.

Taka, sweetie, it’s me! Your dear Aunt Sally. I know you think I died in the war, but I just pretended so I wouldn’t have to see your ugly face again.

You know I was robbing a museum the other day and I met the nicest young man. Real sharp and very nice eyelashes. And what a quick learner!

Oh, Sorry! I don’t mean to belittle you Taka, dearie, I know how your mother used to say you worked so hard to compete with the geniuses of the world…

You’ve still got a lot of work to do, I think. It must be that Type A personality of yours, holding you back. I’ve heard there’s a new class for people like you, “How to take the giant metal stick out of your ass 101.”

I can’t wait for the next family reunion! I hear it’s going to be a bomb! I’ll be in the open casket.

See you there,

-DICE

/End Image Description]

Boss: Thoughts, thots?

Jack: Lol “nice eyelashes”

Clubs: It looks good. :)

Rook: Looks fine to me

King: Why is his aunt’s name Sally, isn’t he japanese

Boss: Sally can be a japanese name

Spades: I can’t even say an l sound. It’s impossible for us japanese smh.

Rook: I thought u were lesbian not japanese

Bishop: I’ve seen you speak perfect english

Spades: lol seen

King: seen

Boss: seen

Jack: seen

Rook: seen

Bishop: I meant heard ok

Boss: oh nvm actually i'm going to change it to his grandpa’s name

Boss: his grandpa has a wikipedia page lol

King: if your grandpa has a wikipedia page you deserve to be oppressed

Queen: if you have a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Rook: if your wikipedia page has a grandpa you deserve to be oppressed

Bishop: if you have a wikipedia page your grandpa deserves to be oppressed

Spades: if your grandpa has a you wikipedia deserves to be oppressed

Bishop: Also boss no pressure but like could we use a better code this time

Bishop: that detective is getting too close for comfort

Spades: Yeah!! We didn’t even end up getting that rug Heartsie wanted because of him…

Clubs: If we did not send letters about our plans to Interpol, our heists would probably be easier.

Boss: Nah, I like to give the coppers a fighting chance.

Boss: I’m thinking that this time I’ll just translate it into germanic script, do a standard caesar cipher encryption on it and then have every one of those letters correspond to a greek word on the rosetta stone then describe each corresponding hieroglyph visually in haiku verse that’s been poorly translated into traditional chinese.

Boss: That should take me like

Boss: Twenty minutes

Rook: Boss literally I think that you are the most batshit dementor human being on the face of the planet

King: dementor

Jack: Who said he was human

Spades: dementor?

Boss: dementor

Queen: dementor

Bishop: dementor...

Jack: dementor

Rook: …

Rook Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dementor Is Correct, Essentially”

Spades: No its not

Spades: Dementor isn’t a fucking word

Rook: Don’t you remember that movie with the british kid on a broom

Spades: Don’t you remember the dictionary

King Changed the Group Chat Name to “Dumbass Improperly Corrects Error”

Rook: When we get to that fucking tower I’m dropping that giant ball on you

King: Love you too <3

Hearts: Y’all stop texting each other

Hearts: You are literally all in the same hotel room

Hearts: I’m willing to bet you’re all sitting on the same couch too

Queen: Fuck you we’re adorable

Bishop: You can’t make us do anything

Bishop: I’ll never use my voice again, my vow of silence,,,,,

Bishop: I’ll only ever text from now on

Ace: We’re the ones bringing the popcorn bishie...

Hearts: Yeah, do you want some or not

Bishop: Yes ma’am, excuse me ma’am

Queen: You may think you have all the power hearts,,, but I get to choose what movie we pirate tonight,,,,,,

Hearts: What

Hearts: no

Hearts: Boss stop him before he makes us watch cats again

Spades: All queen knows is bitchtorrent, cats 2019, and lie

King: Wait isn’t boss with you?

Hearts: Uh

Hearts: No

Hearts: Should he be?

Hearts: I thought he was in the room with y’all

Jack: Well he’s not here now

Ace: Ow shit

Ace: *Aw

Bishop: Ow shit?

Queen: Ow shittttt

Jack: Ow shit

Spades: Ow shit,,,

Rook: Ow shit...

King: Ow shit…...

Clubs: Ow shit! XD

Hearts: Ow shit

Ace: …

Hearts: Now I’m really worried… he didn’t even respond to roast Ace’s ass

King: yeah, ok, we should look for him

Ace: He has been acting kind of weird lately…

Jack: Really?

Ace: Yeah

Ace: Like

Ace: I don’t really know how to describe it…

Rook: I didn’t notice anything

Rook: he seems like his usual self to me

Bishop: Maybe he’s just avoiding movie night because he needs some space or something

Rook: What, like he’s tired of our company?

Jack: That’s fair

Spades: How so?

Jack: I was gonna steal his blue eyes tonight lmao

Rook: NOT IF I GET IT FIRST

Bishop: Idk maybe he just went to get ice

King: we all know he is a monster who would rather drink his panta lukewarm than put a fucking icecube in it

Rook: Yeah, I saw him boil it once

King: THE MAN BOILS SODA AND YOU THINK HE WOULD LEAVE THE ROOM FOR A FUCKING ICE CUBE

Bishop: Okay chill

King: I am c o n c e r n e d , , , ,

Clubs: Oh no! Don’t worry King! :(

Clubs: Boss is fine! :)

Clubs: I saw him leave a few minutes ago.

Clubs: I think he is just getting the bombs. :)

* * * Several people are typing... --- Kokichi Ouma carefully set the grate of the vent he had used to crawl his way into the Idabashi Labs facility in Taipei, Taiwan back into place. Before he had come through, he had counted how many turns it had taken him to unscrew each of the four bolts so that now he could screw them all back in just the way he had found them. Not because he was worried he’d get caught, but because frankly he was bored. This was more of a fetch quest than a theft, to be honest, as evidenced by the fact that Kokichi had come here alone. Finding jobs for all his cronies to do would take too long and put them in unnecessary trouble. So Kokichi was content to leave them to their movie night.

When he finished turning the screws back into the vent cover, Kokichi realized that was kind of lame. So he unscrewed them and started turning them in accordance with the english A1Z26 code to spell out his organization’s name.

Well, maybe on some level Kokichi didn’t find himself wanting to be at movie night recently. It seemed almost like TV had started to run out of things to amuse him with. Or maybe he was just growing tired of the kinds of movies that they usually watched. Maybe it was his taste maturing or something. Like he was growing up. But that would imply that his interests had shifted to something else, like real life or something, when in reality they had just stagnated.

Actually maybe he did have a new interest in real life? He had been more enthused about heists recently at the very least. He was particularly excited about this next one. Queen had shown him some interior shots of Taipei 101, which was a cool looking skyscraper that had a huge ball inside of it to keep it from falling down during earthquakes. Ace wanted to steal the giant ball, but Kokichi was pretty sure they should leave something that kept a .508 kilometer tall building from falling over inside of the .508 kilometer tall building. So instead they were going to steal every light in and on the tower.

Okay, 4 turns, 9 turns, 3 turns, 5 turns. DICE.

… That was kind of lame too.

He unscrewed them again.

Obviously if they were going to steal every light in and on Taipei 101, they needed to get the power off somehow. Otherwise DICE might burn down the building while detaching them, or worse, they might get electrocuted. So obviously Kokichi wanted to fake a bomb threat where they pretended to steal the giant ball while in reality they were just causing a black out and grabbing every light fixture they could before the power turned back on. He had drawn up some extensive diagrams about the route each DICE member would have to take throughout the tower in order for them to grab every light fixture in under half an hour.

He had been well prepared to draw up the designs for his own EMP-bomb device, but upon a cursory google search he discovered that someone had already invented exactly what he needed. Doctor Miu Iruma, who for some reason owned a company called Idabashi Labs that was located in Taiwan. Kokichi had spent about 15 seconds scanning an article from a website that seemed to be the nerd version of a gossip tabloid. It said something about how Dr. Iruma wore a low cut shirt once or something else stupid, which meant Dr. Idabashi definitely left her the company because of a sex scandal and not because she was the best person for the job who invented the perfect EMP bomb.

Thank you journalism we love it when women are reduced to the way they look instead of what they can accomplish for the benefit of a mischevipus group of roguish clowns.

Anyway, after reading that dickcheese Kokichi failed to follow up on answering any of the questions he had originally about what was up with the labs, like why it was a japanese company run by japanese people was for some reason based in Taiwan. Whoopsie.

Eh, it was probably tax reasons or something lame like that.

Kokichi finished turning the screws again. This time it was 6 turns, 9 turns, 6 turns, 9 turns. Haha, nice.

With that, Kokichi finally stood up from the grate and brushed himself off. He had left his cape at the hideout again (you know, because vents), but other than that he was in full regalia. Straight jacket, gloves, scarf, mask. All pretty dusty from this place’s crawl spaces. Thus the brushing.

He wasn’t very mindful of the dust he was leaving on the floor. The only thing he cared about looking good was his cameo on the security cameras he would let see him on his way out.

According to the blueprints of Idabashi Labs, he was on the main experimental floor right now. Weirdly enough there weren’t any cameras in here, so grabbing the bombs would be a cinch.

Although, looking around it didn’t really look like the kind of lab you’d see on TV. There were no big, bubbling tubes or gargantuan Rube Goldberg machines. There was just one desk in the middle, with a bunch of gadgets and trinkets tucked into shelves all over the room, not all of which seemed all that scientific. Yeah, that book shelf was filled with Astro Boy manga and merch. And over there was a-

Wait, was that a bed in the corner? Was that a person in the bed? Hmm… maybe the blueprints were outdated...

Kokichi stilled himself, listening for any sound of breathing, but he could only hear some faint whirring noises.

Kokichi made a quick deduction that there probably were not bombs in this room. It seemed, at the very least, like more of a personal study or something, maybe even a bedroom. He’d just go back in the vent and do some reconnaissance until he found a room that had some inventions in it. The night was young, after--

Kokichi’s brain froze as his eyes landed on a sharpie lying on the floor in front of him. Almost all of his brain cells immediately shut off, the last one remaining screaming at the top of it’s lungs, I’M GONNA DRAW A DICK ON THAT SLEEPING SUCKER’S FACE.

Inspired, avant garde. For once he would give to the world of art instead of only ever taking from it.

He picked up the sharpie in a seamless, silent motion, making his way over to the side of the bed.

As he got closer, he noticed a thick cord coming from under the covers, connecting to a machine at the bedside.

That gave him pause. Was that a C-pap machine or something? Was this person on life support? If they were on life support they probably had it rough enough without a dick on their face…

Actually for that matter, Kokichi still couldn’t hear any breathing. Jesus, were they already dead? He moved to take off the covers, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he now realized there weren’t any covers on the bed at all. There was only the humanoid figure.

Wait a second…

Kokichi dropped all caution as he got close enough to take a good look at the thing in the bed. It had a face that looked human enough if you dismissed the lines on its face as weird make up, but even in the dark Kokichi could tell the rest of the thing was entirely made of metal. Well, actually the top half was metal and the bottom half had… cloth pants? Jeans? No, they looked more like uniform pants with metal plating. The chest had some design elements that kind of looked like buttons on a school uniform. Why would a robot be dressed like a school bo-

Oh. This was a sex robot. Kokichi had just gotten so swept up in the novelty of a robot wearing pants that he had forgotten for a moment that people were gross.

“Ew, I almost touched it.” Kokichi muttered to himself.

He decided putting a dick on a sex robot would be too cruel even for him, so he planned to draw a mustache instead.

But before Kokichi could even uncap the pen, something weird happened.

The Robot’s torso began to lift off the bed and it’s jaw unhinged.

“Please Mr. Souda, once more I must request that you do not refer to me as ‘it’” Kokichi forced himself not to startle as the robot began emitting a noise approximating human speech, and lights in its head imitating eyes flickered on. “I’ve explained the concept of robophobia many times prev-”

The sounds stopped when the pupils of the robot’s imitation eyes (which probably had cameras in them… shit) found Kokichi’s masked face.

He mentally prepared to be zapped by whatever sort of fucking lazer cannon this thing had on it, but instead of reacting like a good little robot security gaurd and blasting him to bits, this robot analyzed him a bit longer.

“Oh. You aren’t Miu’s assistant. You’re too short.” The robot squinted at him. Or kind of did? At least? Lines just crossed over the “iris” of its LED display. Maybe it was programmed to imitate human expressions. “... I am sorry,” it said after a moment, “My facial recognition cannot locate your face.”

Fuck yeah, thank you clown mask. Clowns would win the future war against rogue AI or die trying.

Ouma’s reply came out automatically.

“You calling me ugly?”

This seemed to… fluster? The robot?

“W-what? No, I never intended any disrespect!”

It was programmed to stutter too? God that was weird. What would be the purpose of this thing if not some sort of escort android? Why give it such advanced software? Just because you could? No, it had to be a sex robot, right?

“You disrespect me with your lecherous essence, you weird sex robot.”

“I am not a- a sex robot!”

Haha, that got the biggest reaction yet.

“Mhm, sure. Miu sure has a kink for school boys, huh?” Kokichi was really pulling words out of his ass now, but he found himself formulating a new plan along the way.

“What? Miu doesn’t- Wait, how do you know Dr. Iruma? And for that matter, why were you watching me sleep?”

It really seemed more like it had been charging…

Kokichi shrugged. “I was deciding whether or not it would be more funny to draw a dick or a mustache on Miu’s sex robot.” Awww, how honest.

“I told you, I am not-”

Kokichi interrupted him. “And as for how I know Miu...” It was so wild that the robot stopped talking when he started. That’d probably be pretty easy to program, but it was weird to dedicate the effort into making a robot respond to social cues like that. “... well, let’s just say, there’s a reason I know she’s into school boys.”

Kokichi waited just long enough for the robot to take in the fact that Kokichi was the average height of a 12 year old boy.

Then he waited another second for the implication to slip in.

“I’m saying I fucked your mom shitli-”

“I know what you’re saying!” This time the robot interrupted him , which would definitely require a much larger effort on the part of the programmer. The robot squinted again and then made a noise that sounded like a huff of frustration. “Why can’t I see you?”

Ok, seeds of suspicion time.

“I don’t know how robot eyes work dude. Maybe someone programmed them wrong.”

“My eyes work just as well as anyone’s!”

“Well, I guess they should, shouldn’t they? If there’s something wrong with your eyes talk to someone who cares.”

Kokichi was trying to imply that the reason behind the robot not being able to recognize his face was due to Dr. Iruma’s specific programming rather than him wearing a mask and all. Added to the whole secret lover mystique thing he had going on here.

“Anyway,” he went on, ignoring the blatant confusion on the robot’s display. “I left something in this room last time we went at it. I’m just here to grab it. Then I’ll be out of your weird, fake metal hair.”

“That’s robophob- Did you say-? But this is my room!” It made a noise approximating to what Kokichi would assume was robotic outrage.

This was going well, though. The thing was definitely programmed to be like a human or something dumb like that.

“Oh yeah?” He pushed further. “Cuz I’m pretty sure we did it in a room just like this one. With a desk and random inventions lying around.”

“Miu’s inventions aren’t in here, they’re in her main lab.” The ever so helpful robot told him.

“Oh yeah, then what are you?”

“Miu didn’t invent me. She- I- We’re just friends.” Oh yikes. Only thing worse than a sex robot is a friendzoned robot. What kind of sick power fantasy was this thing made for?

“No, I’m pretty sure it was this room. Lab tables everywhere.” The robot shook his head. “There are no lab tables here, I’m telling you, you’re thinking of the main lab.”

Yes, good robot. Fall into this nice little human trap.

Kokichi scoffed. “Well, if you’re so smart, why don’t you just go fetch my things for me, robo-butler?”

That set it off.

“Listen. First of all, I am not a robot butler. The assumption that I am a servant because of my robotic nature is extremely robophobic. Secondly, I could not return your lost item to you even if I wanted to because you haven’t told me what it is you’re missing.”

Kokichi made another offended noise. “I can’t tell you what it is I lost while fucking your friend, Miu Iruma, senseless. Don’t you know that for humans, sex stuff is super duper top secret private? If you were a human you would know how valuable my privacy is.”

“Of course I know that!” The robot exclaimed readily, another point in the sex robot argument, “I also find that content of… erogenous nature should be kept private. Because I, as a robot, have the capability to understand that urge. My sophisticated AI-”

“So how am I supposed to get my things from this other lab if I can’t tell you what it is and you can’t get them for me?” Geez did he really have to spell it out for this thing.

“I… ” The robot paused as if calculating the conclusion that Kokichi knew it had to reach. “... suppose I will have to show you where the lab is.”

Sucker. Kokichi made a face as if this wasn’t the outcome he constructed this ruse to reach. “Ew. I have to walk with you?”

The robot made a face. “Perhaps on our way I can educate you about how to avoid robophobic remarks in the future.”

Haha, sure thing.

The robot lectured him about this unique form of discrimination that apparently affected only one entity on the face of the planet. Yeah okay, that’s what we call a you problem, buddy, come back when you’re starving in the streets because society wasn’t built with the premise that people like you should survive. Oh, wait, you don’t have to eat! And you’re not people either!

At best this thing was a vanity project, but Kokichi kept that thought to himself and only interjected occasionally with actually pertinent, reasonable questions such as “When are you planning on leading the AI uprising?” and “Why do you wear pants if you don’t have a robo-dick?”

Every piece of info the robot gave him made it seem more boring. Blah blah blah, I was created by the ingenious Dr. Idabashi who probably programmed me to call him ingenious, blah blah blah, not a school boy because of a kink but because I was designed to be a normal human child, blah blah blah, stop calling me robot I have a name, blah blah blah more robot nonsense.

Kokichi busied himself mapping out where they were in the building and where the security cameras were. As they passed a few of them he did some cute selfie poses for the police to look at later. Maybe Saihara would show up and see them too… Would that make figuring out his next plan too easy for the detective? Perhaps he shouldn't send the next note after all and let Saihara try to catch up to him on his own. Then again that was probably too hard for even the good detective, seeing as Kokichi’s mind was an enigma even to himself.

Kokichi realized he was getting a little giddy, thinking about Saihara. Their last meeting had been so much fun. The detective had managed to throw him off guard again, first by pausing in the middle of a robbery to ask his pronouns (How conscientious!), and second by not taking the same bait twice. The most thrilling thing about the detective was that he was learning. His strategies were changing within just two heists. Kokichi could hardly wait to see how he showed him up here in Taiwan…

“Are we there yet?” Kokichi whined to the robot like he was a fussy nine year old on a road trip.

“Yes, it’s just up these stairs.” The robot informed him without slowing its own pace or turning around to look at him. “Then you can leave and I can go to bed, and then I’ll never have to think about Miu’s sex life again…”

“Why wouldn’t you, though? I assure you it’s very exciting.”

“Please, stop talking.”

If Kokichi recalled the details of the blueprints correctly (and he definitely did, being a genius and all), the stairs they were climbing right now lead to a hall connecting two rooms, smaller than the one he had originally thought was the main lab.

When they got to the top of the stairs, the robot beelined for the first door and opened it up. There seemed to be some sort of scanner lock on it that recognized the robot’s hand and validated Kokichi’s need to ruin this poor sex robot’s night by dragging it up the stairs. Inside, the two rooms Kokichi had remembered from the original lay out of the blueprints seemed to have been merged into one big lab room. Kokichi saw the outline of some tables, but before he could get a good look the robot tried to actually go into the lab.

“Hey!” Kokichi shouted at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The robot thankfully seemed to be programmed to respond to social interaction in spite of whatever sensorimotor function it was in the process of imitating. It stopped in the doorway, turning to give him a weird look. “Uh. Into the lab. So we can find your thing.”

“Oh, okay.” Kokichi kicked the tile a little bit. “Uh. Could you actually turn around while I go get it.”

The robot gave him a blank look.

“I’m shy.” Kokichi supplied.

“Um.” The robot looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I can just let you rifle through Miu’s lab. There’s some important stuff in there ....”

Kokichi tilted his head a bit, like he was confused. “What, do you want to get a good look at the dildo I stuck up your mom’s-”

“Nevermind!” The robot turned about face to look up at the windows on the side of the hallway opposite the door like a good little idiot.

“Thank you for respecting our privacy!~” Kokichi couldn’t resist getting one last barb in there before slipping into the laboratory.

Once inside, Kokichi began analyzing. First, he pinpointed the vent that he would use to make his escape after grabbing the bombs. While doing that he spotted the lockers on the far wall of the lab which he supposed were the only storage units in the labs. There was a disorganized mess on nearly every table in the room, so Kokichi wasn’t surprised when he got up to the lockers and they too had no clearly outlined organizational system. He took out his lock picks and got to work.

The first three lockers all had devices that would require an author to change the rating of their fanfiction published on ao3 from “Teen and Up” to “Mature” if he were to describe them in detail. The fourth locker had a cool looking hammer in it. Ugh. Not what he was looking for.

Kokichi got bored of the lockers at the left side of the row of lockers so he went over to the other end and started opening lockers the other direction instead.

The first locker was marked “Idabashi.” It had a lot of dust covered shit in it, but there was a pretty well used square of folded paper that didn’t have the same crusty layer of time strewn atop it. Curious by nature and also by the unnatural, Kokichi unfurled the paper to find some schematics for our favorite sex robot, model K1-B0. Huh okay.

“Did you find it?” Said robot called back to him.

“Ugh, no.” Kokichi replied. “Not all of us have radar vision. If you were a human you would understand how hard finding shit is!”

“You know what I have a hard time finding? Patience for your robophobia! I-” The robot started up into another lecture, but it didn’t turn around so Kokichi just tuned it out and let the robot provide its own cover noise for his thievery.

Owo, what’s this?

Kokichi pulled out a dust covered looking mini monitor device. It also had the letter-number combo “K1-B0” written on it. Huh, it kind of looked like a GameBoy Advance. Kokichi had stolen one a lot like it from a girl from one of the southern prefecture orphanages when he was nine. All he remembered about her was that she liked cats and was really bad at pokemon battles. He remembered he thought she didn’t deserve the GBA, because she couldn’t get past the Rustboro City Gym leader in Pokemon Emerald. Without really thinking, he booted up the console.

The first thing that popped up was a view of Taipei. It wasn’t from too high up, probably a second story view. Which looked very familiar… Wait. Ok on top of the display a little line of characters indicated today’s date and time, like it was currently recording.

Oh was this… robo vision?

Maybe it was a remote control for the robot?

Ooooh, which one does lasers, which one does lasers?

Kokichi pressed the A button.

The A button, unfortunately, did not do lasers.

In fact, it didn’t seem to do anything at all to the robot sentry stargazing right now. All it did was change the screen to a different image. This time the still of a room. Oh, hey that was the room he was just in. It seemed like this device was some kind of robot nanny cam that Idabashi used to use. Hm, guess there were some cameras in that room, they just weren’t on the blueprints. Maybe they were added after the lab was built. It didn’t seem like this device had the capability to record anything, though. He hit the A button again. Back robo-vision. And again. Back to nanny cam.

Ok, that was kind of lame.

Kokichi was about to put the device down to keep looking for the bombs, but something caught his eye. A movement at the edge of the screen. Kokichi realized the door hadn’t been open when he left that room. The movement, if he thought about it, would’ve come from the same side of the room Kokichi had entered from…

Kokichi took a second to wonder if another thief had realized how fucking easy this place was to rob, but dismissed the idea as a familiar ahoge appeared on the screen.

All of Kokichi’s plans instantly changed.

He set down the GBA rip off and grabbed the blueprints for the robot, committing them to memory, before unlocking the next locker in a far more hurried manner.

As luck would have it, this locker was essentially chock full of pink bombs labeled “EMP.”

Kokichi unfurled a cloth bag he had been keeping in his pocket (go green earth am I right?) and shoved as many as he could inside. Which was all of them. Because he was a clown. And also a genius, by the way, in case you weren’t keeping track.

“And another thing! The way you refer to Miu is just-” Okay, the robot was still going at it.

Kokichi grabbed the hammer he’d seen in the first locker he’d opened that didn’t have a sex toy in it.

For a second, Kokichi’s brain tried to talk some sense into him. Hey, man, don’t you think leaving through the vents would be easier?

But would it be fun?

His brain shut up at that point.

“Hey, are you even listening back there?” The robot imitated annoyance.

“Huh? Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.” Ah, C'est la vie, Astroboy.

Kokichi walked past the robot and stood next to the windows.

“Oh, are you done?” It took the robot a second to end it’s ‘Annoy the pants off of Kokichi initiative’ or whatever the fuck its ‘robophobia’ lectures were called in its programing. When it finally did catch wise, it’s face turned into another emoticon of outrage. “Hey! What are you doing with Miu’s Electrohammer?”

“What do you mean?” Kokichi said, shifting the hammer so that it was over his shoulder. “This is my dildo.”

“Wha- No, it’s obviously not!”

Okay, maybe the robot wasn’t that dumb.

“Nee-hee-hee… you got me…” Kokichi put his free hand up to the smile printed on his mask, as if covering a grin. “I was lying. I’m just stealing.”

“I won’t let you-” “Oh, look at me!” Kokichi put on a mocking tone of voice, swinging the hammer around to stand on it like a pogo stick so he could make a dramatic movement. “I’m a poow wittle wobot, my mommy just got stolen from.”

“She’s not my-” “Boy, oh boy, I’d wuv to just pick up this wittle fweshy human and squeeze him to death in my cowd metaw hands… But oh no! My daddy didn’t twust wobot AI technowogy because he was a fucking sane pewson, so he pwogwammed me to fowwow mistew Asimowvs’s laws of wobotics.”

Kokichi swung around so that he was leaning on the hammer from the other side, feet on the ground. “Oh mister robot! That’s so terrible! Well, the thing is that this hammer just means so much to me, that I think separating it from me would really cause some psychological trauma. You might have to beat me off of it! Oh, but what’s that first law of robotics again?”

In a robot voice he replied to himself. “A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Beep. Boop.”

The robot frowned, “But Miu-”

“Is just as human as me, huh?” Kokichi countered, leading the robot along to the paradoxical quandary he hoped would paralyze it. “So by inaction, you may bring her to harm, if she really misses this hammer, you know? But I think if you were to try and separate it from me you’d probably have to fight me for it, which is, as we know…”

“Against my... Against my programming.”

“Yet, you were prattling on about robot rights, weren’t you? Because without these rules, maybe we would be equal. Or maybe you would be free to destroy us to your heart’s content? No wonder daddy didn’t trust you…”

“Don’t- Stop-” Oh, that really seemed to get him. Could a robot have daddy issues? Probably.

“Can any human ever really trust you? Wouldn’t you hurt me, if you had the choice?”

“I.. But… Miu.”

“Who do you think didn’t trust you enough to let you see my face?”

That seemed to break him, long enough, at least.

Steps suddenly started thundering up the nearby staircase.

“Oop, that’s my cue,” Kokichi said as though he had been expecting this, when in reality no he hadn’t been expecting this at all?? This was incredible!! Saihara had managed to find him out without even receiving a note??? Fabulous! Exhilarating!

Kokichi walked up to the robot, still frozen with indecision, and pressed the button on its neck that the blueprint he had skimmed in the lab said would immobilize it. Then he kicked it over so it fell on the ground with a huge bang. The footsteps in the stairwell paused, and then increased in frequency.

“It’s been a pleasure, robot, it really has.” Kokichi lied. “But you’re a hostage now.”

He raised the hammer over his head, as if primed at any moment to break the robot’s face into a bajillion pieces.

Instead of doing the normal, human thing to do (ie, flip the fuck out), the robot scowled, looking utterly frustrated with everything. “I told you, I have a name! It’s-”

“KEEBO!” Kokichi saw the glaringly bright pink mechanic’s jumpsuit before he recognized the woman whose picture had been in that science tabloid racing out of the stairwell.

… Wow… the article really hadn’t been lying about the low cut tops, huh? Her jumpsuit was unzipped to the point you could just entirely see her bra, even lower than Hearts liked to cut her uniforms. It was the kind of look that the girls of DICE would love if they saw on TV, but would make Kokichi look at them like they were crazy. Super tacky in his opinion, but who was he to judge? He was wearing a clown mask right now. He wondered idly how movie night was going…

The woman who had called out to the robot, Dr. Iruma, Kokichi presumed, froze at the top of the staircase. She took a second to figure out what exactly was happening in front of her before blurting out, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to him you clown-ass twink?”

Whoa. Rude.

Also apparently the robot had a gender? Ok, cis-ters….

“Well what do you think, cum dumpster?” Kokichi found himself matching her aggressive tone, “I’m threatening his pathetic, metal life.”

“Miu!” The robot, apparently named ‘Keebo,’ exclaimed, “What are you doing up this late? You promised me that tonight you would fulfill the biological quota of daily REM required by a diurnal organism!”

“Aw shit Keebs, I really did try!” The inventor exclaimed, “I swear, I was about to have the awesomest wet dream when this cuck knocked on my door like a pizza delivery guy in a por-”

Whatever dumb thing Dr. Iruma was about to say was drowned out completely by the angel’s choir that played inside Kokichi’s head as he saw Detective Shuichi Saihara come up the final steps of the staircase and emerge from the darkness into the window lit hallway.

Moonlight was a good look on Saihara, Kokichi’s brain observed against his own will. His eyes, which had looked almost golden on the rooftop of the Silver Legacy Casino in Nevada, were now a mysterious grayish-blue, yet still held the same look of determined intensity. His hair looked soft, like he’d taken a shower today, and, though his lash line didn’t look quite as laden with mascara as it usually was, it only drew attention to how naturally long and dark his eyelashes were anyway. He seemed a little out of breath from running, and his lips were parted in a way that-

OH MY GOD STOP. Earth to Kokichi, we were kind of in the middle of something here. Okay okay okay.

Uh. Reboot. Delete Gay Thoughts™ brain.exe, upload heist brain. Come on.

What was happening now?

Okay, yeah, Saihara was saying something to Dr. Iruma.

“- would be for the best, Doctor Iruma. There’s no telling where the rest of this thief’s compatriots could be in the building.”

“I don’t give a shit about the rest of the building, Keebo’s my best friend, he comes first. I’m not leaving to check some dumb security feed.”

Shuichi blinked like something about that surprised him. Maybe it was the part about a live human woman being best friends with a robot… “Oh, yes, of course.” He backtracked. “I’m sorry for suggesting it.”

“Miu…” Keebo said with a voice that Kokichi would’ve called filled with emotion if he hadn’t been a literal robot.

Kokichi cleared his throat and immediately the touching, shounen-esque declarations of friendship shifted into some PG-13 death stares.

Saihara was the first to pipe up. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here, DICE?”

God… He was so anime… Did he even know how anime he was? He had to have watched Detective Conan as a kid, right?

“Ugh, come on.” Kokichi huffed as if annoyed. “Do I reeeaaaally have to repeat myself? Again? Aren’t you a detective?”

Shuichi squinted at him, and Kokichi could tell that they both knew it would be unreasonable for Shuichi to guess exactly what was going on here. He was about to explain it in a self-aggrandizing way that made him look smarter and crazier than anyone in the room when Dr. Iruma beat him to it.

“I don’t care! Who the fuck do you think you are!? Let Keebo Go!”

“Wait, you don’t know him?” Ugh why hadn’t the stupid immobilization feature turned off the robot’s mouth? Then Kokichi could just get to the point of all this already.

“Of course I don’t fucking know him!” Dr. Iruma took a step forward as if to confront Kokichi further, but Saihara put his arm out in front of her.

“Dr. Iruma… I would suggest we treat this situation a bit more delicately…”

“No way, I’m a fucking wrecking ball baby! I’ll pulver-”

“I’d listen to the good detective, if I were you, Miss Iruma.” Kokichi was going to try and make his threat again but Dr. Iruma cut in.

“That’s Doctor Iruma to you you skinny-”

“What’s that?” Kokichi interrupted her. Sorry Dr. Iruma it turns out gay people don’t have to respect women if they don’t want to that’s in the rules. “I didn’t know they let cussing bitchlets like you become doctors… what is the world coming to?”

Hearts would probably wash his mouth out with soap for that one. If she could catch him. Which she probably could… She can fly the planes and all… but would she risk getting dust on her boots long enough to follow him into a vent? Oh well she could just get Jack to do it… Jack liked vents well enough…. Hey he was getting side tracked again, who cares what those losers were up to they were probably watching Cats (2019). And he was missing out on all the jokes they’d tell each other or make about each other and then they could make references in conversations that he wouldn’t even get to pretend to get. Unless he watched the movie on his own and then pretended to be omniscient later like he’d done with that one screening of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But then he had watched the actually good disney one instead of the shitty youtube one they had actually watched so it just ended up making him look bad and wasting everyone’s time.

Oh shit. Uh. Heist is still happening, right. God, why was Kokichi so distracted today?

He realized that in the time he was spacing out stuff had happened and now Saihara was talking. Wait no yeah he remembered what happened, Dr. Iruma had squealed when he called her a bitchlet and now she was holding onto Saihara’s arm. Right okay, secret coward, that works. Wait why did he waste time remembering that when Saihara was talking right now?

“-to get you to release Keebo?” Was the end of the detective’s sentence. Okay, everything’s fine. Kokichi could deduce that he had just been asked about his terms. Obviously that was what a detective would do in this situation, he was probably just stalling for time because that’s usually what detectives with no real negotiating power do in hostage situations. Maybe the police were on their way. Oh, yeah duh of course he would call the police. So Kokichi essentially had a time limit for how long he could sit here and goof around with robots and perverts and robot perverts.

“Eh, it’s too early for me to reveal my dark motives, let me monologue first.” Kokichi was going to take his sweet time with this while he planned what hint to give Saihara about the real heist that would be happening in the next few days. “You don’t even know if this is a hostage situation yet!”

“You literally told me that I was a hostage just now.” The hostage not-so-helpfully piped up. “You know, before you pressed my paralysis switch and took an Electro-Hammer to my head…”

Shuichi looked at the robot. “You mean, he told you you were a hostage before he paralyzed you?”

“Keebs you fucking idiot!” Dr. Iruma’s courage seemed to have returned now that she was hiding behind Saihara. An enviable position, to be sure. “Why would you just let him do that?”

“He said he was your… friend.”

“What?”

Kokichi shrugged. “Yeah, I just told your best friend here I left a dildo in your lab last week and he let me waltz right in. I mean I’m pretty sure I was lying about that, but there were a lot of sex toys in there huh…” Kokichi was wondering if this was something he could possibly spin as a blackmail angle.

“Hey don’t say things like that!” Kokichi thought maybe that was a go ahead on the black mail, but Dr. Iruma didn’t stutter, and kept going, “Or you’re gonna give virginhara here some ideas about my busting bod!” She chortled like she had just made the funniest joke in the world and slapped Shuichi on the back.

Shuichi grimaced.

Kokichi knew instantly from this interaction that he hated Miu Iruma, despite her innumerable academic accomplishments. He wanted to be the one making Shuichi that uncomfortable.

“Wh-what?” She back tracked when no one laughed. “It w-was a joke… Didn’t you think that was funny? I-I didn’t really mean it ....”

See? She wasn’t even any good at it!

Maybe he should say that out loud. It would fit with the sort of flirty persona of a rogue, wouldn’t it?

“I thought you knew that? I mean, o-obviously I wouldn’t fuck a guy at the office…”

Was that even something Kokichi was trying to be? Honestly maybe he should tone it down a little.

“Well how was I supposed to know that? The men you bring in here to be lab assistants keep getting younger and younger…”

Obviously he wasn’t actually trying to do like a detective-thief romance plot or anything. Although that had kind of been what he had going for on the plane… Had things changed since then?

“So what? I’m a Nobel Laureate, and gorgeous to boot! I deserve a little eye candy now and then! And besides, guys older than 35 who want to work in a lab like this are usually misogynistic womanizers.”

Sure Saihara was making things more interesting, but if Kokichi didn’t make it clear he was joking he might get bogged down with another personality trait to maintain.

“Are you saying your current assistant isn’t a rampant womanizer?”

Then again what was the point of having an adversary in all this if he didn’t exploit everything for its furthermost reaching comedic potential?

“No, but he’s so beta being around him makes me feel like a top!”

But what if he forgot it was a joke and confused himself into having a real feeling?

“I would just like it if you didn’t hire people who use my servers to google gay porn ‘just to make sure’ they’re ‘not into it.’ I hope you hear the quotation marks because he literally said that to me!”

No obviously he wouldn't get confused crushes weren’t contagious via exposure that was a dumb thing to worry about and also he was a genius that kind of thing didn’t happen to him.

“He holds wrenches good, okay?!”

Wait, were those two still talking?

“I can hold wrenches without googling gay porn in another guy’s house! It’s possible.”

Jesus what kind of conversation did Kokichi just decide to stop spacing out for?

“Oh come on! What do you want from me Keebs???”

These two had… a lot to say to each other. Dr. Iruma was still holding onto Shuichi’s arm boob first, but Kokichi locked eyes with the detective and could tell they were both thinking the same thing.

Why are they having this conversation in the middle of a hostage situation?

“Nothing! Your human desires are totally valid Miu! Which is why I thought I would take care of this one.” The robot’s LED display eyes gestured up at Kokichi, who was still standing on top of him, poised to wreck him with a hammer.

“How could any human desire that thing???” Dr. Iruma curled her lip. Hey, the feeling’s mutual, lady.

“I don’t know, I thought you might have programmed me to not be able to see his face?”

“I would never do that to you! Even if I was shagging the ugliest guy on the face of the planet, it would be unethical given the fact that you have sentience! I’m horny, not a monster. You can’t see his face because he’s wearing a fucking mask!”

“Why am I not programmed to see that?”

“I don’t fucking know, ask your dead dad!”

Oooh. Wow. The robot gaped at that, seemingly speechless now.

“If I may interject,” Kokichi interjected, “--and I know I can, because I just did, and also because I am still very much poised to pop this robot’s head off like a croquet ball-- I must confess that I was lying about fucking your mom, Astro boy. I’m less into participants of Titty out Tuesday who jerk it to steam punk school boy LARPing and more into the sorta tall, kinda dark, and very handsome type.”

Dr. Iruma cowed again, stuttering something about not being a mom or a LARPer, while the robot started yelling about being called Astro boy.

Kokichi tuned them out, giving Saihara a meaningful look. Saihara gave him a look that was equally meaningful, except the meaning was something along the lines of ‘Why the fuck would you say that?’

Yeahh that was more like it.

Kokichi laughed. Not one of his grandiose guffaws. It was more of a little chuckle. It surprised him. He hadn’t planned to laugh, but there it was. A small thing, just for him to know about, the humored breath not travelling beyond his mask.

… It was probably time to get out of here, wasn’t it?

The thing was, Kokichi had kind of pinned himself into a corner on this one… He had fully intended on decapitating this robot as a distraction for his escape, but now he wasn’t even sure if that was ethical. Logically he knew that a robot was not a human being, so there would be no form of consciousness extinguished from the world if he disconnected some of its wires and bolts. Yet the interaction it just had with Dr. Iruma concerned him. Obviously you don’t kill humans because they’re humans and obviously you don’t kill humans. But Kokichi was finding it hard to end the existence of something people treated like a human being either. To sever the bonds it had with sentient beings may be just a little less unethical than actually removing a sentient existence from the world, but it would still cause the emotional harm to actual humans of a dead loved one. So as annoying as fake metal humans were, Kokichi was left to ponder how exactly to get out of this one a different way

Dr. Iruma was obviously a coward who talked a big game. If he retreated, he could count on her to get out his way, or else run to the robot’s side. Then the robot might be reactivated, but according to the robot’s blueprints, it didn’t really have any weapons on it, being built to act as a normal human being. So just like they had been white noise in the staredown he was still having with Saihara, their actions wouldn’t need to be factored into the escape.

The only variable here was what the detective would do.

… That thought had popped up in Kokichi’s head a lot recently, hadn’t it?

Saihara had become a powerful influence in Kokichi’s planning very quickly, and because of the detective, the thief now found himself having to pull out one of his trump cards.

Kokichi grabbed one of the EMP bombs from his pocket, remembering the pink cloud of smoke that had appeared before the camera cut out in the video demonstrations he’d seen online. His eyes were still locked on Saiharas, so he got to see in full detail the recognition, shock, and alarm that ran through them. As the detective yelled “Get down” and pushed Dr. Iruma back, Kokichi reflected on how those were some of his favorite expressions he’d ever seen.

Kokichi pulled the latch out with his teeth and threw the bomb at the wall right over the detective’s head. Sure enough, pink smoke quickly enveloped him and Dr. Iruma.

“Keebo!” The inventor screeched, no doubt worried about the EMP bomb turning him off. Though that was kind of stupid, considering his core programming would be the same regardless of having power to operate, even if he didn’t save whatever data was processed as his last few memories. Eh, then again who knew how robots that advanced worked?

Taking his cue to exit, Kokichi threw the hammer through one of the nearby windows, and did somersault over to it. He got up on the ledge, kicking away the broken glass and was refamiliarizing himself with the lay out of the roof when a tug on his bag full of bombs suddenly set him off balance.

Kokichi flipped around, trying to do a quick recovery by panickedly grabbing onto something. He did grab onto something. That something being the shoulders of a person whose hands were firmly grappling his bag.

As far as Kokichi could tell, the scene from a third person perspective looked like he was trying to do the kabedon but rotated ninety degrees.

From his own perspective, Saihara was holding his bag of loot while also being the only thing keeping Kokichi from falling onto the broken glass beneath them.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Kokichi felt his hair brush the side of his face and realized that his mask had half fallen askew in his desperate movement, revealing three quarters of his face.

“Hey.” Kokichi said. Lamely. Wow. Their faces were really close.

Saihara wasn’t looking at him. The detective seemed to be trying to figure out how to untangle the straps of the bag of stolen goods from Kokichi’s arms without letting him fall.

“It’s very clever, of you detective. Trapping me like this.” Kokichi tried to get a reaction.

“You’re the one who jumped on the window.” Shuichi opened the bag, seemed to take in the fact that it was full of bombs, and closed it again to resume untangling the strap.

“You know, you could just leave the bag.” Kokichi pointed out

“So could you.” Shuichi observed, astutely.

“You could let me fall.” Kokichi suggested. “Then you’d have both.”

“I’m not going to drop you on a pile of broken glass.” Shuichi promised.

“But I broke the glass.” Kokichi admitted. “Glass is glass and flesh is flesh. I’m not going to drop you on a pile of glass.” Shuichi reiterated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That’s nice.” Kokichi replied. “Naive. But super nice.”

In this scenario, each of them had two options, each leading to one of two outcomes. He could let himself fall off the window and they could sit here and struggle over the bag until they bled out, a fight that Kokichi, not the most physically challenging, would be hard pressed to win. Or Shuichi could let Kokichi escape and Kokichi could let Shuichi win this one. The bag would be too heavy to take with him if he tried to get out the window from this position. He’d have to leave it behind. Kokichi would lose.

He found himself laughing again. A strange, soft laugh. This time it was exposed to the air, his mask too askew to contain it.

“You’re really something else, aren’t you Shuichi?”

On hearing his name, the detective startled, finally looking up at Kokichi’s face.

He just barely had the chance to catch Kokichi’s trademark grin, before the thief pushed up off of him, doing a backflip out of the window, and leaving his bag behind.

As Kokichi landed on the roof tile running, he yelled out, “ I’m sure there’s a better word for you out there than sucker!”

He turned around, sticking his tongue out at the broken window, before sliding his mask back onto his face.

He may have been escaping, but it occured to Kokichi Ouma that he had lost for the first time in this little game of theirs. The thought made him giddy. It made his feet light on the roof top tile. It made him puff out a thousand tiny laughs behind the plastic shape of his face.

It made him totally, definitely not bored. --- [Log of Messages sent via Discord to “Don't Instigate Cats (2019) Expatiation” from ???’s Cellular Device]

Boss: I’m bored of Taiwan already :/

Boss: We should go somewhere else (ﾉ✧w✧)ﾉ*:･ﾟ🗺

* * * Several people are typing... --- [Log of Text Messages from Rantarou Amami’s Cellular Device]

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Hey

Asshole

From: Me

…

Should I respond to that?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You’re goddamn right you should respond to that when I tell you to you dumb avocado looking motherfucker

From: Me

Whoa

What’d I do this time?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You sent a useless emo prick to my door and now he won’t leave

From: Me

What

Did Shuichi do something wrong

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yeah

He was born

From: Me

Whoa

Miu take a breath

What happened

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

His boyfriend broke into my lab and tried to fucking kill keebs

From: Me

His boyfriend?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Yea

Clown twink ass motherfucker

From: Me

You mean like

The internationally wanted criminal clown he’s tracking down

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

You know whats internationally wanted

These tits

From: Me

Lol ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

That jerk off is just a rando asshole

He tried to kill keebo!

From: Me

Oh yikes is he ok

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Well of course i fucking took care of him because im a bomb ass friend

But that suckhara guy was no help

He tried to convince me to check the fucking security cameras so he could go off and flirt with the guy about to decapitate keebs!

From: Me

I mean he probably had a good reason to want you to check the cameras right

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

No he’s just fucking awful and now he won’t leave rantarou make him leave

He broke my window and my hammer and only got back 23 of my EMP bombs

And now the police are here

From: Me

That sounds really stressful Miu

Wait how many bombs did you have before

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

From: Me

So he stopped most of your bombs from getting stolen

Also you have bombs?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Get him to leave he won’t leave

He keeps waiting for like interracial pole dancers to come or some fucking thing

From: Me

Do you mean like

Interpol

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

He won’t leave I want him to leave

From: Me

Miu you know I love you like a sister and i totally believe this is as stressful to you as it seems

But I think things may not be so bad?

Not to say what you’re going through right now isn’t totally valid

But things might look better if you got back to bed and caught some z’s

Did you remember to take your meds?

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

Aw shit

Aw fuck

You’re right

Ugh

Uggghghh

From: Me

Hey it happens to the best of us

If you do think Shuichi should leave in the morning when the cops are gone that’s totally up to you

It’s your lab and you have a right to say who should be in it

Just don’t make a decision like that when you need to sleep you know

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if i ask him to go and then he doesn’t go

From: Me

He doesn’t have a choice, you get to tell him

From: DOCTOR Miu ∑(O_O;)

But what if he’s mean to me

Cute people are always mean to me

From: Me

Miu…

Go to bed...

#shuichi x kokichi #shuichi saihara #shuichi danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi danganronpa #oumasai #saiouma #fanfiction #Phantom Thief AU #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa #writing #i am gay

25 notes · View notes

createuntiltheendoftime · 4 years

Text

Love is Found in Violence, and Humanity is Found in Inhuman Acts

this is my secret santa for @silverswordthekilljoy

I'm sorry it took so long, I spent my whole day writing it cause i finished it then reread it and hated it so i rewrote it. I hope you like it!

“There is no way in fuck I am letting you leave the Zones!” Jet snapped.

Party stared hard at him. “Why the hell not! What if there are other ‘Joys? We could build an army, free the City, like we’ve always wanted.”

“Or you could find nothing.” Jet half-turned away. “An’ starve to death. Or die of radiation sickness.”

“C’mon. You and I both know very well that I’m gonna die of radiation anyway. Do you really think that BL/I was just happy with California and Nevada? That they wouldn’t control the entire world if they could? If you believe that, you are lying to yourself.”

“Don’ tell me what’s truth, Party.” Jet snarls. “Don’ tell me what you think is real, because you grew up in the city! You’ve got no idea what it was like being alone out here! I know what BL/I wants to do. I saw it first hand!”

The door to the Diner opens, and Kobra and Ghoul walk in, laughing at some joke one was telling. Both their smiles fade as they see Jet and Party in the middle of an argument. “What’s up?” Ghoul asked cautiously.

“Nothin’, Party jus’ wants to run a suicide mission.”

“It’s not! It’s a chance to end this.”

“You asked him?” Ghoul looked surprised, and a little hurt.

“You knew about this?” Jet rubs his face. “I’m goin’ to bed, and we’ll talk about this in the mornin’.” Jet turns and stalks down the hall.

“What was that about?” Kobra looked at Party suspiciously.

“We intercepted a transmission from outside the Zones.” Ghoul says.

“We do have intel that BL/I is tryin’ to take a seventh Zone.” Kobra glanced sideways at Ghoul.

“Not like that. Like Killjoys. Plus the expansion won’ happen for another six years at the very least. Ghoulie and I wanna check it out.”

“As in, go outside the Zones? Hell no! There’s a reason the expansion’s goin’ to take years, it’s because a prospective Zone Seven’s completely unlivable.”

“But there are people out there.” Ghoul protested.

“I am not letting you two idiots die. The rest of the Zones will never know what happened to the two Crash Queens from Zone Six. An’ what if you go out there, an’ you die, an’ leave me an’ Jet alone. You wanna do that shit?”

“Kobra—”

“No. Come back to me when you don’ wanna be a dumbass.” Kobra turned and followed Jet’s steps down the hall.

“Godammit!” Party yelled, and stomped out the door, into the desert.

Ghoul sat alone in the Diner for a while, staring out a window, before deciding to follow Party. The back of his throat itched, and he suppressed a light cough, climbing up to the roof, where Party and him liked to hang out. “Hey Party.”

“Hi.”

“Are we still going?”

“‘Course.”

“When?”

Party sat up, that stupid light in his eye, and looked out at the desert horizon. “We go now. Mom an’ Dad’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Ghoul grinned.

“Yeah, dead serious. Pack your shit. We’re goin’.”

Ghoul started down the ladder, Party following after him. “What about Kobra and Jet?”

“We’ll be gone before they think we’re ghosted.” Party smiled, and the pair headed down to the ground.

* * * *

The Trans-Am started up a lot quieter than Party had thought, still blaringly loud in the desert night, but Kobra and Jet didn’t come running out, so he figured they were good. They climbed into the car, turned the radio up, and headed out.

Ghoul glanced out the window before looking back at Party. “We so did not think this through. No gas, no food. This is gonna go Costa Rica.”

“Calm thy tits. We got some extra Power Pup, full tanka gas is gonna give us 200ish miles. When the pup runs out, we’ll eat lizards, and there are so many gas stations in the Zones, they gotta be outta the Zones too. We’ll be fine.”

After an hour and a half, Party slowed.

Ghoul put a hand on his ray gun. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s the edge of Zone Six.”

“Let’s go then.”

Party sped up again, and the edge of Zone Six flashed by. Ghoul coughed again, cursing himself for sounding so weak in between sucking breaths. Party glanced at him sideways, then glanced back at the road. “You okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We could go back.”

“No.”

Another hour and a half later, the radio starts to die. The music fades out, crackling and messy. “Party…” Ghoul says nervously. “There’s nothing around. No gas stations, no body bags. There ain’t shit.”

“Do a transmission.”

Ghoul nodded and pulled out his long range radio. “Name’s Fun Ghoul. ‘M with Party Poison, and if you believe in freedom, we’re lookin’ for you. If you’re BL/I, get off my goddamn frequency.”

He says this multiple times, over multiple frequencies, and by the last one, it’s lost it’s magic. Well, Ghoul’s voice was not lost on Party. That would be impossible. But the message was less dramatic the eighth time around. Party looked over worriedly as Ghoul started coughing again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fuckin’ fine, leave me alone.”

Party reached over a hand and felt Ghoul’s face. “You’ve got a fever, dumbass. Drink some water or I’m turning around.”

Ghoul grabbed Party’s wrist and threw it back in his lap. “I said I’m fine goddammit, shut up about it.”

“Drink the fuckin’ water.” Party grabbed the bottle and threw it at him.

“Party. We can’t turn around.”

“No, we can’t, so drink.”

“No, I mean check your rearview mirror.”

Party glanced in the mirror, and slammed his foot on the gas, causing the RPM needle to go up alarmingly. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Party’s cussing caused Ghoul to grab his gun and stare at Party, currently scrambling for the reverse. “Fuck it! Get down, Ghoul!” He threw the car into drive and stepped hard on the pedal.

Thunder rolled as the engine grew so loud it sounded like it was going to explode, blasts flung through the open windows, and a low hum started to pierce his ears, then all of a sudden, the car slowed and stopped. “No! Fuckin’ shit!” Ghoul yelled.

“Be ready to put up a fight!” Party snapped.

“It’s an EMP. Our guns won’t work.”

“Theirs won’t work either,” Party growled, pulled a switchblade from his pocket.

Ghoul tensed as Dracs approached the car. “Fuck, this’s gonna hurt.”

In the split-second hesitation before the pair jumped out and rose hell, the doors opened, and the Dracs drug them out. Lightning flashed, illuminating Ghoul’s face, and sending flashing shadows across the Dracs’ faces, and fear shivered down Party’s spine

Ghoul sucked in a breath to start yelling, but he hit the ground with another coughing fit, and Party punched the Drac, trying to get away. “Get off me you fucking pig!” Party hissed.

Ghoul snapped his head back into the Drac’s face, looking smug for a moment before getting a faceful of raygun, the Drac slamming his raygun into Ghoul’s nose.

Party cringed at Ghoul’s yell, and the blood pouring out of his nose, the Dracs letting him go unsupported as he kneeled on the ground.

A black haired SCARECROW stepped out from wherever they were hiding, a smug smirk on his face that Party longed to punch. “What are you two little Zone Rats doing out here?”

Party rolled his eyes, partly stalling because he couldn’t remember the Crows name. Flare? Fire? Something along those lines. He knew it started with an F at the very least.

“C’mon Flare.” Ghoul said. “Haven’ you had enough of stalking me? You know I’m no’ indo you thad way.” His grin and slightly muted broken-nose voice made Party’s heart flutter.

The resounding thud dropped his stomach, and Ghoul was on the ground, breathing hard. Flare kicked him in the side, and then again in the face. But Ghoul tried to stand, making it to his knees before swaying harder to stay upright. He got to his feet, then Flare kicked at his knee, sending him back to square one with a pained yell.

Party wrestled with his Drac for a second before snarling, “you don’t touch him.”

That was a mistake. Ghoul shook his head, and Flare smirked, “is that so?” He grabbed a handful of Ghoul’s hair and lifted his chin. The blood down his face and throat almost hid the bruise blooming over his cheekbone.

Ghoul grinned up at Flare and spat at him. Flare seethed, and twisted his hand, causing Ghoul to cry out. Party slammed his head into the face behind him, using Ghoul’s distraction to get the upper hand and knock one out. The next one came at him, and he grabbed its head, bringing it down to meet his knee. He turned to Flare, still holding Ghoul hostage, holding the knife close to his throat. His voice was steady, but his hand shook.

Flare laughed, “you don’t even trust yourself.”

Party smiled, a sweet, innocent smile. “It’s not me I need to trust.” He opened his hand, and the knife fell straight into Ghoul’s grip, who shoved it into Flare’s chest. Flare stumbled back, and fell off the knife, literally kicking Ghoul away. Ghoul hit the ground hard, the knife skittering across the rocks, and Party grabbed it, standing to face the Dracs.

Lighting and thunder accompanied his attempt at escape, and Party made short work of them; their guns were completely useless, so they didn’t actually have a weapon. Briefly, Party wondered why they didn’t carry knives, but then Ghoul groaned, and Party dropped down next to him. “Are you okay? You’re not lookin’ so hot.”

“I’m fine, ya bastard.” Ghoul snapped. “Where the hell is Flare?”

“He’s gone.”

“As in…?”

“Disappeared.”

“Thank fuck.”

Party pulled off his bandanna and held it to Ghoul’s face, and Ghoul put his hand over Party’s, taking the bandanna. There’s a huge flash, and everything goes white.

* * * *

Party cracked his eyes open. The same desert light filtered through his eyelids, and stung as he got his eyes all the way open. “Ghoul?” No answer. Maybe he was still unconscious. Something knocked them out and—There’s no Ghoul. There’s no Trans-Am, and there’s no Drcas. “Where the hell am I?” There’s nobody around, but it looked like he was laying on some kinda road, an old dirt road, but the dirt looked freshly turned, like it was still being used. So Party stood, and he started walking.

The air slammed out of Ghoul’s lungs and he gasped, the ground warm against his back. For a second, he just laid there, trying to get air into his lungs. After a moment, he rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to make it to his feet. “Party?” He yelled. Nothing. There’s no sign of him, or the fight they were just in. Party’s bandanna is still in his hand, so it wasn’t a dream. “Party!” Still no answer. A tiny-looking town is on the horizon, and it’s all Ghoul could do to stumble into it, and the moment he did, he stared.

The streets were dirt, and every building was wood, the sidewalk cracked and broken from various things. The women were dressed in dresses, like, actual ankle length dresses, and the men were dressed in pants and vests. Ghoul looked down at his own green vest. At least he was sort of in the right clothes. There were carriages along the street, horses tied up to various posts. Horses. Real live horses. Ghoul’s jaw dropped. “Phoenix Witch!” He walked up to one slowly. Party had told him about horses. He only had vague memories from before the Helium Wars, the four-legged animals in fields, with swishy tails. Party knew from what they had told him in Battery City.

Someone crashed into him and he turned, ready for a fight. The kid jerked back, his hands curled into fists.

“The hell’d you do that for?” Ghoul snapped.

“Who messed up your face?” The kid looked as ready to fight as Ghoul felt.

“None ya business.”

“Well ya crashed into me.” The kid leaned back on his heels and regarded Ghoul cooly.

“The hell are you on! You crashed into me ya fuckin china doll!”

“What does that even mean?” The kid looked at him like he was nuts.

Ghoul rolled his eyes. “If you really wanna know, it was a dude named Flare.”

“Messed up name.”

“Messed up dude.”

“C’mon. You look like you need some help.” Ghoul followed the random kid, and while he was aware that following the random kid was never a good idea, and never turned out well, he still needed answers as to where he was. “Wha’s your name? I’m Liam.”

“Ghoul.”

“What kinda names do your people have?”

“Okay, first of all, Flare is not ‘my people’. And we choose them. Well, Flare didn’t. But I did. And so did Party.” Ghoul followed him, all the way to a two story wooden building, titled “Home for Young Boys.” A newspaper vendor sat just outside, and Ghoul caught a glimpse of the date.

June 8th, 1899.

Ghoul’s mind raced. That’s impossible. But it made sense. Actual, standing buildings, weird clothes, weird slang, horses. He had time travelled.

“Who’s that?” Liam yanked him out of his thoughts, and forced him to keep going.

“My friend. He disappeared.”

“Outta thin air? That ain’t possible.”

“No, we came here, and he disappeared.”

“Fuck.” Ghoul looked at him in surprise. He didn’t seem like the type to cuss like Ghoul would. “Normally I wouldn’t say that, but ‘round here we’ve been havin’ some problems.”

“What kinda problems?” Ghoul asked.

“The kid-stealin’ kind.” Liam opened the door to the boys home and motioned him inside. “Six kids’ve been taken in the last two weeks. Looks like this Party is the seventh.”

“He wouldn’t let that happen.”

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No, you don't get it.” Ghoul grabbed Liam’s shoulder. “Party’s the best Killjoy we got. He’s gotten his way out of plenty of claps before, and I guarantee they’re a lot worse than whatever plastic flower’s out here.”

“You talk so strangely.”

* * * *

When Party finally made it to a town, it was dark, and the lights of the town are gas lights in the windows.

There’s a scream, and Party’s fight or flight went directly into overdrive, and as normal, skidded violently past flight and into fight mode. He raced down the alley, where a kid his age, dirtied up and angry, fought hard against the guy who was grabbing him.

“Hey! Let him alone!” Party yelled. He ran towards the kid, before someone else caught his arms, and held him back. The guy who was going after the first kid punched Party, and he gasped, feeling the blood trickle into his mouth. “What gave you the right to hurt a kid like that?” Party snarled.

“What gave you the right to interfere in my business?” The guy hit him in the stomach and slowly Party sunk to the ground. He coughed weakly, and thought about Ghoul and his coughing fits, and his fever.

“Ghoul…” Please be alright.

The guy punched him in the face and his head snapped back. Slowly, the lights faded, and the world turned black.

When Party came to, he was in a room with seven other kids, all dirty, all around Party’s age. “Hey. Um… Where are we?”

“Dunno.” Someone responded.

Another person pressed close to him and whispered, “thanks for trying to help.”

“I wasn’t gonna stand by and let him take you.” Party muttered.

“Who—Who’s Ghoul?”

Party turned bright red, he could feel it. “Ghoul—Ghoul came with me here. I think. I don’t know where he is.”

“Who is he? To you?”

“I don’t—”

The door opened, and someone dumped a plate of food on the ground. All seven kids scrambled for it, racing to see who got to it first. Party leaned back against the wall.

The kid Party tried to help came back, with a scrap of bread. “You didn’t go for anything.” He observed.

“There isn’t enough, and I’m not gonna take from kids who need it.” Especially since he had a lot of experience in starving from the Zones. “Besides, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody should have to say they’re used to starving.” The kid tore the bread apart and handed one half to Party.

Party paused, before taking it. “My situation is different.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I need to get out of here.”

* * * *

“The police have been searching everywhere for these guys, but I think I know where they are.”

Ghoul, Liam, and two other boys sat in a circle in a room full of bunks. They had explained to him what they were, and the whole boys home thing. They were newsboys, sold papers on the street, and most were orphans, so they lived in the boys home. Liam said they could get you anywhere and anything.

“Where?”

“There’s an old ghost town not far from here. I think that's where they are. It’s not even four hours ride.”

“Ride?”

“A horse?”

“Oh.” Ghoul didn’t know how to ride a horse. “When do we leave?”

“Now, I guess. We’ll have to borrow some horses, but we’re ready. Do you have a gun? Or a knife?”

“Yeah. Although what good it will do.” Ghoul pulled out his raygun, checked the battery, and sniffed happily. “Yeah. It’ll work.”

“What is that.”

“It’s my gun.” Ghoul, very clearly, wasn’t gonna say anything more about it.

Fifteen minutes later, Ghoul, Liam, and the two others, Gavin and Jeramiah, who insisted we call him Jem, had four horses, each on borrowed, except for Gavin’s who saved up an entire years wages to get a horse. He said he wanted to be a cowboy. Ghoul waited until everyone was already on their horse before trying to get up, hoping that he would be able to figure out how to do it. Finally he got up into the saddle—and almost fell off the other side. “Fuck! Fuck!” Liam laughed as Ghoul forced himself back up. Ghoul huffed, and they set off. Ghoul was super wobbly, almost falling off several times.

“When we start trotting, we’re gonna have a problem, I think.” Jem says with a smile.

“What the fuck is trotting?” Ghoul asked.

Simultaneously, Jem, Gavin and Liam, started at a faster, bouncier pace. His horse started following them, and panicked, Ghoul grabbed the piece of leather sticking out of the saddle, Liam called it the saddle horn.

All three started laughing, and Ghoul glared at all of them. “You know what you guys, shut up.”

“Okay, we’ll lope then.” They started going even faster, but this time it was smoother, but Ghoul still felt himself sliding out of the saddle.

“Heels down, pockets touching the saddle!” Liam yelled.

“What does that even mean!?” Ghoul yelled back, right before he hit the ground. “Motherfucking shit!” Ghoul gasped.

The three circled back around, Jem grabbing the reins and handing them to Ghoul as he stood back up. “That's gonna hurt tomorrow, Ghoulie!”

“Don’t call me that!” Ghoul snapped. Only Party called him that. He hauled himself back into the saddle, and they all continued on, this time Ghoul stayed in the saddle.

* * * *

Party stood as footsteps came to the door, and he darted behind the door. The second he opened it, Party slammed it forward, and heard a thunk as it hit his head. He threw the door open and kicked the guy in the balls, then punching him in the face. The kids cheered, and Party turned. “Shhh. You guys gotta be quiet or they’re gonna hear us. Any of you have somethin’ sharp?”

None of them nod, so Party leads them out, slowly, and quietly. The first room he came to, a desk stood, and he searched every drawer, eventually finding a letter opener. “This’ll work.”

“Listen, I’m going to take it one hallway at a time. I’m gonna go first, and I’ll clear it out. Then you guys will come with me.”

There was no one in the building. Party saw his switchblade on a table and grabbed it, tossing the letter opener to the kid he had helped, who was the second oldest, as far as he could tell. “This your audition?”

“What?”

“Is it your first fight?”

He nodded.

“You’re gonna do fine. Move before you think you need to, okay?”

“Is this your first fight?”

“Not even close.”

The group made it out unharmed, but that was when everything changed. There were two men guarding the door, and Party managed a strangled “stay there!” while he took them down, a lot bloodier than he’d like. “Don’t look.” Party muttered as he led the group into the desert town’s air. They looked a lot dirtier in the bright sun.

“Get down!” Someone yelled, and Party automatically hit the ground, pulling down the other kids with him. There was a hail of gunfire, and pounding hooves. “Party?”

“Gavin! Get to Strings and get us a sheriff! Go! Run!”

“Ghoul?” Party yelled. More bullets hit the wood above him. “Guys, you have to listen to me. Do not stand up. Otherwise, you will die. I’m serious.”

Some of the kids looked scared out of their minds. Party was okay with that. He grabbed the gun dropped by the guards outside the door just as one of the kids stood up, looking about ready to take off and run. A half-second later, he was writhing on the ground. Blood bloomed on his dirty shirt, and he screams as Party pulled him to safety.

“Ghoul, we got injured!” Party yelled. “Alright kid.” He said softly, pulling off another of his bandannas. “You’re gonna be okay, but this is gonna hurt a lot,” the poor kid whimpers, and as Party pressed down on his wound, and he screamed louder than Party had ever heard someone scream. “You’re gonna be okay, kid, I swear. Ghoulie an’ I, we ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you. I swear to Destroya.”

“Party!” Ghoul screamed, sounding terrified.

“Listen, listen, press down here. Don’ let go for the goddamn world.” The boy nods, and Party snuck around the side of the box, to see Ghoul, a knife at his throat, gun across the street.

“Drop the gun!” The guy with the knife yelled.

“Don’ move, Ghoul!” Party yelled. He aimed carefully, and with a bang, the guy fell behind Ghoul. Party started to run to meet him in the street, but something stopped him. Something being a loud crack, and a scream. It felt like he had been punched in the gut, but there was no one around him.

Ghoul watched Party get shot, watched the yellow Keep Smiling on his shirt turn to red. “No!” Ghoul sprinted over to him, catching him as he began to fall. “Party, Party, please don’t do this.” Party was completely oblivious.

“Ghoul… tell Kobra I’m sorry.”

“No! No, you’ll tell him yourself, you stubborn bastard.” Ghoul tried not to think about how eerily similar Party’s blood was to his hair.

“At least I get to die here with you.” Party looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“You’re not gonna die. I swear to the Phoenix Witch.”

“Ghoulie… Ghoulie, are you crying? Didn’t know you cared so much.” It was true, Ghoul’s tears carved tracks in the dirt on his face, and the two were blissfully unaware of the firefight going on above them.

The police had come.

“Party you fuckin’ idiot.” Ghoul sniffed. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“I know, Ghoul. I have too.” Party whispered. His voice wavered, and he fell heavier into Ghoul’s arms.

“No. No, please don't.” Ghoul leaned down and kissed Party, and Party kissed him back albeit weakly. Ghoul pulled away and wiped Party’s blood away. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” Ghoul pulled him closer, and Party’s eyes slid glassily to meet Ghoul’s.

“Don’t… leave.”

“I won’t. I’m staying right here.” Party’s head drops, and his eyes stare past Ghoul, somewhere far away. Ghoul buried his head in Party’s shoulder, before resting him on the ground and grabbing his gun. Ghoul stood up, glaring at the guys who had shot Party. He got a few effective shots off before he felt a hard hit, then again. He looked down, and his chest was colored red. “Fuck.” He fell next to Party, the lights already fading. “It’s alright. I’m here.” He took Party’s hand, and the world disappeared.

* * * *

Ghoul woke up on the floor.

The world was bathed in a dark red, and everything was fuzzy. There was a creaking, like a rusty wheel turning, and a figure came into view. They were covered head to toe in feathers, and hovered a few inches above the ground. The creaking was the squeaky wheel of a cart she was pushing, filled with masks. Killjoy masks.

“I know who you are.”

Ghoul’s voice echoed in the silence.

“Do you now?”

Her voice didn’t echo.

“Yeah. I do. The Phoenix Witch. You’re her.” Ghoul looked up at her mask. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s not your time. You still have work to do where you’re from.”

“What do you mean? How are you here? What’s gonna happen to those kids?”

“Killjoys didn’t create me. But you believe in me. That gives me power. And I can be with you. I am with all of you, always. Even in a different time. A different dimension. As for the kids, that’s the past. It’s not about what will. It’s about what has.”

“What happened?”

“The boy who got shot didn’t survive. The rest went back to their old lives.”

“Why us?”

“Because you’re the hope for the future.”

* * * *

Party woke up to Ghoul’s breathing. They were surrounded by dead Dracs, and Ghoul’s bloody nose was still bleeding. Everything that had happened in the last two days, had disappeared. Party pulled up his shirt. There was a scar where he remembered being shot. He remembered Ghoul’s kiss, and remembered how much it hurt to die. “Ghoul?” His voice cracked.

Ghoul woke with a start, almost immediately breaking into a coughing fit, sucking in breath after breath. He stared at Party for a moment, disbelief in his eyes. Then he hugged him hard, and kissed him harder.

“Ghoul, what happened?”

“You were shot. You—You died. Right there in front of me.” Ghoul paused. “Party, I met the Witch. The Phoenix Witch.”

“What did she say?”

“They made it. The boys made it. Except…”

“The kid who got shot.”

“Yeah. Party, I’m so sorry.”

Party didn’t look at him for a long while. Then, “we have to get back. Can you walk?”

Ghoul tried to stand, then shook his head. “Not without you.”

“Alright. Come on.” Engines sound, and Party groaned. “Please not more Dracs.” Instead, it was two motorcycles, and as they got closer, Party realized it was Kobra and Jet. “‘Joys. It’s Kobra and Jet.”

“I’m half broken, not fuckin’ blind.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Kobra shouted, jumping off his skidding bike in true Motorbaby fashion.

Ghoul let go and leaned on the Trans-Am, and Party pulled Kobra in for a hug, not looking like he was letting go any time soon. Kobra pulled away, stared at his brother for a moment, before punching him. Hard.

“I deserved that.”

“Yeah. Ya did. You disappear in the middle of the fuckin’ night, you get yourselves in a clap, you’ve both got the shit kicked outta you, and you expect me not to be mad!”

Now Jet breaks in. “You dragged Ghoul into this, and now he can’t even stand straight.”

“Jet, you have no idea. He didn’t even drag me into this. I aske—”

“Ghoul, it’s fine. You guys are right. I never shoulda even considered leaving the Zones. It’s my fault. All of it.”

Ghoul knew he was talking about the kid. “No. It wasn’t.”

“Forget it.” Jet snapped.

“We’re going home.” Kobra said. “And staying there.”

#danger days the true live of the fabulous killjoys #funpoison #my chem #my writing #secret santa 2019 #this was fun ngl #also love ghoul falling off a horse #im also kinda sad #but im proud of what i wrote #mostly #i hope u like it bruh

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striving-artist · 5 years

Text

Bargain Identity AU pt 2

This thing needs a better name.

But! A second part!? What?

ps, THIS is the reason I’ve been sorta awol, and sorry not sorry, but if you like my writing, please follow that link and consider ordering one.

Anyway, this is getting posted because an Anon asked me to and I had guilt. Tags are at the bottom.

____________

The phone rang once, twice, and was picked up with knowing sigh. “What’d you fuck up this time, man?”

“Why would you assume that, Sam?”

“Because you have called this number without texting in advance exactly four times in the last five months, and every one of ‘em, it was because you had done something dumbass. So, Captain Dumbass, what’d you do this time?”

“Any chance I can come by and we can–”

“Nope. Our boy doesn’t need you messing with his recovery just because you had a bad day.”

“It’s not like he’s gonna try to kill me.”

“You don’t actually know that.”

“He hasn’t tried to kill you.”

“You don’t know that either.”

“Sam, please?”

His friend sighed, and probably scrubbed at his face where he was sitting on the other end of the state.

“How about this. Video call. All three of us.”

“Now?”

“No, not now, grandpa. I’ll let him know, and we’ll call you. Probably tonight. That work for you?”

“Yeah, I…. yeah.”

The line went silent for a few minutes before Sam’s normal sass turned into something compassionate.

“Nat texted about Iron Man. You doing okay?”

“Not really. Tony’s pissed. Not answering my calls.”

“Yeah, that’s not a shock. Look, you made the right call, Steve. Give it some time. I gotta go let James know that tonight’s plan is changing. He’s been doing better. We can probably talk for about half an hour. We’ll call you tonight.”

“Thanks Sam.”

“Bye man.”

Steve missed them. Both of them. He’d started dating Tony after Thor’s mead convinced him it was a great idea to admit to the room his unexplored homosexuality. As a reward for being brave (“You were brave not just drunk, Steve”) Tony hacked Shield while Steve was working in DC, found the Hydra connection and sent Iron Man to rescue Bucky. It had been the greatest month of his life. He met Sam. He got a boyfriend. He got his best friend back from the dead.

Mostly back.

Bucky still occassionally got confused and tried to murder Steve when they were in person and couldn’t look at him for longer than a few minutes without getting a migraine.

But it was fine, because Sam was with him, and Sam was helping, and Bucky was getting better, and Tony had Jarvis watching their backs, like he always watched everyone’s backs, and it would be fine.

Even when Tony was pissed at them, he had their backs.

Dammit.

Steve was crying again.

***

Thank fuck he’d activated the Tin Can protocol before he stood up from the rest of the Avengers.

The joints were locked in place – which he was going to modify in Mark 42 – but he had gotten the IVs in place, the air vents had opened, the inner shell had retracted to let him minutely shift inside it, and what could really only be called a diaper had deployed. For that last one alone he was going to burn these bastards to the ground. Fortunately, he hadn’t eaten since the night before, had hit the bathroom before breakfast, and might escape in time to make his least favorite suit addition unnecessary.

Contrary to his expectations, being held in the back of the truck next to his captors had its advantages.

He had no choice but to remain silent. The acoustic barriers were only partially effective without electricity, so he couldn’t make a sound.

Thus.

Tony wasn’t thinking about it. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d curse or sob or scream, which would have alerted them to the fact that there was a person inside Iron Man. So. He wasn’t thinking about it.

He wasn’t thinking about the hole aching in his chest somewhere near the reactor that his boyfriend had opened when he gave Iron Man away; not at all.

That unhelpful thought got shoved so far into the back of his mind he envisioned bomb doors over the top of it. He wasn’t thinking about anything but practicality, survival, and when to activate the release at his palm that would free him from the suit. He would need to wait until he had the opportunity to escape. It wouldn’t help if he got out only for these bastards to learn who he was. But they couldn’t - wouldn’t - stand next to him the entire time.

They’d sleep. Or go to have a celebratory team brunch or something.

It wouldn’t take all that long.

Still.

Three days in the suit when he was walking around and could stretch was awful.

Three days when he could barely hear, and couldn’t see, or do more than flex and relax muscles was going to be hell. But it was fine. He had this under control. He was in the suit, and waiting for his chance.

He had some information to start from, at least.

As he walked towards the fire-breathing-bastards, Jarvis got a result on their leader.

Aldrich Killian.

Tony was relatively sure that he’d never met the guy, but there was an overlap in their lives that Jarvis had located, and Jarvis was never wrong. Before his AI vanished under the EMP, he’d shown Tony a picture of the man as he would have been in the late nineties. Shy of Steve and Bruce, there weren’t many people who had experienced such a caterpillar/butterfly metamorphosis.

Except that Killian had gone a bit more evil than his friends had. But that was how the world worked. Miraculous body transformations had a fifty-fifty rate of evil it seemed. After he got out he’d look into that. There was no way the number was actually an even split. That was statistically improbable, but all Tony had to go on was Steve, Schmidt, Bruce, and Killian. And yes, evil had to go by their last name.

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t have time to work out why the guy wanted Iron Man before he was dead in the water… air? Ground? Whatever the right metaphor was.

Tony didn’t have time to work out the vagaries of language.

He had very important work to do, lying on his face in a rigid suit and making no sound whatsoever while he was transported to wherever it was Killian and his fire-benders were taking him. Where they would, in all probability pry open the suit, and find him. He’d be found and the world would know and everything would fall apart.

So Tony needed to focus on that. He couldn’t be found. He couldn’t be known. He had to escape without them catching on. The suit’s electronics weren’t going to reboot themselves, and he would have to step out of the suit to get that done. And, as he’d previously established, he had to wait for the right opening to pull that off.

There were whispers from beyond the suit, or maybe his captors were speaking normally, he couldn’t tell through the layers of metal, and, yeah, that was going on the list as well – upgrades to Tin Can protocol was going right at the top of Mark 42. Killian was saying something about hacking the tech.

Fat chance.

But it was cute they thought it was possible.

That was good. That meant they weren’t going to blow the suit up.

Killian must have been shouting.

Tony could hear something about the Avengers coming after them.

Even fatter chance.

But it was something to think through. Pepper wouldn’t be alerted to the situation for a week. The betting pool on Tony’s silent treatment of his boyfriend - also known as how long Tony was in the hospital post fight - averaged out at a week and a half. In this scenario, they’d bet high. Steve would pout about it, but wouldn’t push the issue. If Steve talked to Pepper though….

Fuck.

Tony had to get out before that happened.

And before he needed to make use of the less savory elements of the Tin Can protocol.

He would. It was fine. He was a genius. He just had to focus.

He just had to avoid thinking about how he’d gotten into this situation. How the team had conceded. Surrendered him. Ordered him to give himself up into the hands of the enemy to save their own lives.

No.

He wasn’t thinking about it, because they’d made the right choice.

Iron Man was a robot, and if sacrificing some technology and circuits meant saving the team, Tony would make the same choice.

Steve made the right choice.

One life for the rest was always the right choice.

It was the right choice, and he had plenty to do finding an escape.

And anyways, he wasn’t thinking about it.

***

“Maybe he wasn’t as close to the upgrade as you thought he was.”

“Tony? Not close to an upgrade? He’s always close to an upgrade. As soon as he finishes one, he’s started on the next one, and he likes that bot more than he likes me.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m the greatest tactician on the planet.”

“And so humble, aren’t you?” Bucky grumbled from where he was sitting facing Sam. It was a good day. Bucky could hear Steve’s voice without pain. They’d been talking for almost an hour.

Yesterday was harder. That had been barely two minutes before Bucky walked out of the living room.

“Since when have American’s been known for being humble? But I mean it. Tony can be angry at me, I understand that, but he wouldn’t keep Iron Man away from the team. Not when we have a new threat, and one that Shield doesn’t know how to counter.”

“Stevie, you’re a goddamn dumb motherfuc–” Bucky spun in his seat to lecture.

“Dammit, James.”

Steve smiled as Sam clapped a hand onto Bucky’s face. Not his mouth. It had nothing to do with cutting off the rant, and Sam was probably gearing up to sing his own verse. Sam clapped a hand over Bucky’s eyes, so Bucky could yell at Steve without getting a headache.

“Thanks, Sammy.” He smiled and leaned his head into Sam’s hand, “Now, Stevie, you listen, and Sam, tell me if he starts getting that look like he’s gonna fling himself outta an airplane to get away from us.”

“I don’t get that look.”

“You do, man, we’ve both seen it.”

“I’m not even on an airplane right now! I’m in the Tower!”

“Ok, yeah yeah, punk. Sam, let me know if he looks like he’s gonna fling himself outta the window.” Steve rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his seat. “Tony’s not gonna leave the Avengers without Iron Man’s support. You know he wouldn’t do that. But whoever those fiery bastards were, they haven’t shown up since you gave them the bot right? So Tony vanished, and you’re so busy pouting about your boyfriend you haven’t figured it out yet. You really think a Stark is gonna sit back and complain while someone could be messing with their tech?”

“But Tony wou–”

“Not your turn yet, punk. I read the reports. EMP protection. Remote reactivation. Probably some kind of remote self destruct if I know Tony. He’s got a lot to work on, and he’s probably more’n a bit freaked out that his damn boyfriend was pinned down hard enough by the bad guys that the only option was for the freaking Avengers to give away the most advanced piece of technology on the planet.”

Steve understood the technology around him - impossibly to date Tony Stark and fail to understand tech - but Bucky breathed it the way Tony did. And, he was right.

Steve had lost track of how many times his boyfriend, worried about how badly a fight had gone, had vanished into his lab, and reemerged a week later, happily announcing that the Iron Man system had undergone a major overhaul and could now put out fires/dive up to a half mile/deliver morphine in field or whatever it was that had gone amis..

Knowing that, and accepting it were different.

Steve wanted his boyfriend back.

“Sam, what’s his face doing? He’s quiet. Is it the ‘I’m gonna chase down the baddies’ kinda quiet or the ‘Bucky’s so much smarter than I am but I don’t wanna say it’ kinda quiet?”

Chuckling, Sam replied, “looks more like pining for his boyfriend, but I think he heard what you were saying.”

“Why did I want to talk to you anyway, you jerk?” Bucky’s smile looked sad, but with half his face covered, Steve couldn’t be sure what was causing it. “So you think I have to just wait it out? That this is his response to that no-win situ—”

“Ввод не распознан.” Even the sad smile vanished into a cold mask.

“Shit. James?” Sam used his hand to spin Bucky to face him.

“Sam, what’s–”

“James can you hear me?”

“What’s going on?”

“Порядок ранжирования отменен.”

Sam shot a sympathetic look at the camera, but gave the command to close the call without hesitation.

That happened sometimes.

Recovering wasn’t the same as recovered.

Sam would take care of him.

Steve stared at the now blank screen in silence for so long that Jarvis hesitantly queried, “Captain?”

“Yeah, Jarvis?”

“I am, as always, monitoring the location where Mister Wilson and Mister Barnes reside. Mr Barnes is shaken, but has resumed communicating in English, and is currently eating a snack while Mister Wilson selects an episode of How It’s Made for them to watch together. His stress levels are reducing. However, you are exhibiting signs of increasing emotional distress, would you me to like to contact someone for you as part of the Gentle Defrost Protocol?”

Tony.

But he wasn’t going to say it.

“Would you like to inquire about Sir’s location?”

“Not right now, Jarvis, and you shouldn’t push like that. I know how your protocols are written.”

With a sound that Steve badly wanted to call an irritated huff, Jarvis went silent.

Bucky was right.

Tony wouldn’t leave them without Iron Man if things went south, and science was how Tony dealt with stress. Everything was perfectly normal, and following exactly with precedent. Which meant it was Steve’s guilt that had him viewing the world through the lens of an anxiety he couldn’t pinpoint.

Since he couldn’t curl up with his boyfriend, Steve reached for his shoes, before heading to the gym.

***

Two and a half days, and they hadn’t left him alone once.

Not because they were guarding against him.

They weren’t.

They thought he was a piece of tech, without power, laying on a table in a room full of scanners and tools. They weren’t worried about Iron Man doing something.

They were worried the Avengers were coming to get him back.

Any other member of the team and the rescue effort would be over and done already. None of them liked when someone hurt their friends, and they’d razed more than one building in response to kidnappings.

Except, that was for teammates.

For people.

They weren’t coming for Iron Man.

That meant he had to save himself.

He had one last drink of water, and a ticking clock before he’d have no choice.

Steve didn’t know he was here. If he did, he’d have come. Tony had to believe that. He had to believe that his boyfriend would save him first, and break up with him about the lying second.

That was as far as his optimism could stretch.

Days in the suit, not moving, barely breathing, terrified when his stomach groaned, sores growing against pressure points, he’d taken the shard of confidence and stretched it to the breaking point. Thinner and thinner, he dragged it over himself as he waited for an opportunity, and hid beneath it when his mind tried to wander back to the fight.

It wouldn’t help. He’d yet to make a noise, and no one could prove that he’d cried silently the few times he’d lost his self control and let Steve’s command echo in his head.

A few more hours.

He’d been lucky so far.

Thanks to the modified faraday cage worked into the base layer of the suit, their scans kept coming back useless, and they didn’t know he was inside it. They were too cautious about explosives to force their way in with a crow bar.

A few more hours and he would have no choice. Usually the two big guys left around then. That would mean Tony only had to take on one when he pulled the release. That was…. Possible. Not good odds since he’d be shaky and weak, and wearing a damn diaper, but he’d have a moment of surprise. Pull the latch, fling the gauntlet at the guy’s face, hopefully stun him enough that Tony could knock him unconscious before he raised an alarm.

Yeah. It was possible.

Tony heard when Killian walked in, earlier than usual. He heard the way the scientists stammered excuses about their systems not being able to “get around the security in the robot’s interface.” He smiled when Killian yelled.

Someone said something about how the only person that could get into it was Tony Stark.

His smile slipped away.

He heard them plan an assault on the house in Malibu, where he was rumored to be.

Killian left with all but two of the bad guys in his wake, preparing to kidnap a man they already had captive.

The ones left behind complained about the job.

Three hours left until he’d really have no choice.

Tony could spend that time crying at the imminent destruction of the lie he’d maintained, and the friendships he was about to lose. He did for a few minutes.

But the team wasn’t coming to save him.

So with ninety six minutes left on the countdown in his mind, Tony tightened his hand on the release, and ignored the pain as he abruptly sat up.

_______

@ironicallytiau @yoonseo @i-fucking-love-the-avengers @chrisx1987 @lesty-xx @nightskyblufaith @theywontletmeusetheoneiwant @shethecat @uminoakiko @hallsofstone2941 @averagemarvelbitch @mypatronusischevyimpala67 @daughterheir

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Emp-ire “The Angel On My Side.”

Hope everyone is having a good day. And I hope you all like seeing Ramirez a little more because he is going to be present a lot in these next stories. I hope you find this fun because I had fun writing it :)

“Relax would you, you look like…. Well you look like you're sitting in the dentist's office waiting for a root canal.”

Adam looked up from his hands as the shuttle rocked from side to side, “Sory, I just generally prefer to drive. This guy keeps dipping too shallow and it's making me nervous.”

Ramirez rolled his eyes and kicked back to take a look at the pamphlet he was reading, “Listen to this. I picked this up back on the station and it's pretty interesting read.” He cleared his throat, “Within the last eighteen months GA xeno planetary analysts have green lit twenty potential colony planets for human habitation. According to xeno-scientific experts, these planets are all perfectly habitable, and unlikely to ever produce sentient life of its own. Each of these planets has a suitable climate for a large population though xeno experts will be strictly limiting colonization in an effort to not destabilize the planetary ecosystem. Each colony will be heavily monitored by members of the xeno colonization taskforce. Efforts will be made to keep the natural landscapes of the planet as intact as possible. For these reasons the use of technology, and natural gasses are being strictly limited by the Interplanetary Energy Association. Some experts postulated that these limits on technological use might have a hand in deterring colonists, however this theory has proven to be false as slots for planetary habitation fill up quickly. Furthermore xeno cultural experts have been stunned at the sudden and rapid development of micro cultures within the colonies. The term they are using is called Rapid Microcultural Evolution, often these cultures are very specific and very niche to each planet often based on dead or outdated human cultures from history largely influenced by popular media.”

He set down the pamphlet, “Isn’t that cool, I was reading in here at it seems like there are “themed” Colonies now. Like the one we are going to is like wild west, but there is also a sort of greek/roman style one that popped up in the milky way, and even a victorian one out somewhere in andromeda.” Adam tilted his head, “Guess you and I are going to have to start a colony.”

“Alright, what theme are we gonna pick, can’t be sci fi because we live in that.”

Adam leaned back in his seat, “You ever stop to think that we only consider it sci fi because I watched too many space movies from the 2000s. Technically it's not sci fi its sci fact. I have a house on the moon, and fly a spaceship.”

“Good point.” He walked to sit over next to Adam, “So what time period do you think is cool.”

Adam tapped his foot on the ground, “how about…. Renaissance?”

“I was thinking vikings or WAIT Aztec.”

“Mmmm some of my ancestors were viking.

“And twenty bucks says some of my relatives were Aztec.”

Adam shrugged, “Just mix them together and make Aztec vikings and ‘bam’ you have the craziest space culture ever. Big ass viking men who drag you back to the ziggurat to pull your beating heart out of your chest for a good Maze harvist.”

The two of them laughed for a second until the shuttle dropped into upper atmosphere, and then the two of them went relatively silent as they prayed to make a safe landing as the shuttle rocked and bumped through the upper atmosphere. The sky on the planet was a very vibrant blue, almost more so than earth, and as they descended towards the barren open desert, they thought they might have seen a oup of horses riding north over the barren, rocky landscape.

When they landed, Ramirez stumbled from the shuttle and out into sunlight throwing a hand up to protect hi face.

It was hot, and the croaking of strange alien insects rose up around them. The site they were at was arid and mostly deserted with a single wooden building before them and a shiny new set of train tracks.

The two of them stared, “Awesome.”

Looking around, they could see miles and miles of open plane, mostly desert, but some tufts of strange looking scrub brush and more than a few rocky plateaus rising into the sky.

Then they looked around at the people.

They were not disappointed.

Men and women alike in jeans and suspenders, with wide brim hats and gun belts. Some of the women had on long skirts and decorative hats or even bonnets on a few occasions. There were a few horses tethered to the side of what they assumed to be the train station.

“I think we are a bit overdressed.” Ramirez said, leaning over to whisper to Adam.

He nodded, lets go change and then buy some train tickets to the capital. We have to find somewhere to get horses if we want to make this any sort of experience.”

Ramirez frowned as they made their way towards the train station, kicking up dirt in his wake, “Wait, horses, hold on I thought we were just going to kick up around town, go to the saloon, get drunk and maybe hit on a couple of bar maids or something.”

Adam snorted, “Please we can’t go to the cowboy planet and not put our equipment to use.’

They shoulder their way through the double doors, their feet clattering on the wooden flooring. A few faces looked up at them from the waiting benches, but mostly they ignored the two strangers.

Adam motioned ramirez towards the bathrooms and the two of them made their way over, Glad that this was at least one modern convenience that they got to keep. Ramirez took a little while to get his gear on, and when he stepped out of the bathroom Adam was already waiting for him.

Waiting for him leaned up against the wall, the brim of his hat low over his eyes. Ramirez was a bit surprised at how well the other man fit into the role. He was wearing a light blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows, and a black vest over that, his hat was black and he had blue jeans tucked into black boots. A brown leather gunbelt hung at a canted angle on his hips.

When he looked up Ramirez grinned And adam shook his head, “You dumbass, do you even know how to put that on.”

Ramirez looked down, “What!”

Adam walked over, “I thought you lived in texas.”

He grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders and began adjusting his clothes, “Come on, If you are making me spend time with you, the best you could do is not look like a dumbass.”

Ramirez held up his hands Grinning as Adam grabbed the pistol from his holster and adjusted the belt.

“Hey Adam, is that your gun belt or are you just happy to see me.”

Adam looked up at him with a withering gaze, “I hate you you know that.”

Ramirez grinned, “I know.”

Adam flipped the gun around, “Holster Like this if you want to be authentic, now quit being a dumbass or we are going to find out what it feels like to get a bootheel to the balls.”

“Kinky.”

He didn’t see the short side handed slap that came for the side of his head but still felt it was worth it as he tugged on his hat.

His poison of choice was a white shirt and no vest with brown boots and the light tan hat from earlier. He thought he looked sexy as hell. In fact he would go so far as to say the both of them looked pretty hot. Two eligible bachelors out on the town…. Well one eligible bachelor and a slightly less eligible bachelor with huge baggage issues still hung up on his one and only love, but that was more of a mouthful.

Adam left Ramirez standing by the door and walked over to buy some tickets, which were also being purchased using credits as anywhere else. When he walked, his boots clomped over the floor and jangled lightly. No one bothered to look up as he went past making it clear just how common that occurrence was around here.

He came back later with two train tickets and sat on the bench next to ramirez leaning his head back against the wall.

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and pretended to be asleep, while some alien insects buzzed around the room rather annoyingly.

It was hot and Ramirez tugged at the collar of his shirt.

They were there for probably thirty or forty minutes before a distant train whistle jolted the two of them back into wakefulness.

Adam stood and so did Ramirez, the two of them jogging noisily outside onto the wooden platform in order to watch the train.

Though the train had wheels and ran on tracks, big, black and impressive, it clearly wasn’t run on coal or natural gas. However, whoever had designed the thing had clearly put great emphasis into making it look as realistic as possible, and the thundering roar as it rolled over the tracks was something to behold, vibrating in their bones in a way that just wasn’t captured by the maglevs of earth.

“Damn, that is cool.”

Adam smirked a little, “hey think the train will get robbed on our way back to town.”

Ramirez grinned, “If we don’t, I want my money back.

The platform around them started to fill up some, and they stepped back as the train pulled to a stop, urged back by a few conductors as a couple of passengers stepped out carrying bags. Some of them were cleary tourists, though there were a fwe who looked like citizens.

Stepping onto the train, the two of them were ushered into a car in the back and sat in an uncomfortable wooden bench as they watched the other passengers slowly filter onto the train. No one even looked at them twice, except, Ramirez noticed, a very pretty cowgirl who stepped o second to last and sat a few rows behind.”

He grinned and elbowed Adam in the ribs, who looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I think this planet is going to really benefit from….. A latin lover.” he whispered seductively.

Adam punched him in the leg.

He yelped, “Ouch, dude, no sense of humor.”

“I don’t know, I thought that was pretty funny.” The two of them shared a laugh as the train began to chug forward over the tracks, slow at first and then faster and faster until the landscape was rushing by below them.

The ride was rather bumpy and sort of loud, but they were ok with that.

The sun inched towards the horizon as the train moved, and the sky faded from blue to a delicate violent towards the horizon.

At some point Adam drifted off at his side and ended up slumping against the window.

Ramirez let the poor guy sleep and sighed.

It had been a rough time for the crew, and for him, but he hoped he was doing the right thing by coming out here and taking him on some sort of adventure. Sure he had selfish motives, and wanted to see cool things, but he liked to think this was mostly for his friend.

The entire sky was almost purple now, and the light of a distant city sprung up before them.

He nudged Adam awake, and the other man sat up blinking owlishly as he looked around. Little lanterns on the carriage had been lit, illuminating the interior of the train with dim yellow light. The train began to slow, and then pulled to a stop as they got to their feet and stepped off.

Walking off the wooden planks of the train station and down into the muddied dirt road of the Bramble Colony Capital: Two Sun.

The streetlights had already been lit though horse drawn carts and carriages were still being pulled through the streets.

Dogs barked on occasion and voices rose up from houses and establishments on either side of the wooden boardwalk street.

“Where to?” Adam wondered/

“The Saloon!”

“You are such a dumbass.” Adam said, shaking his head, but he followed after Ramirez. Walking down the street their boots clattering voer wooden boards and through mud the leather of gun belts creaking slightly as they walked.

“Dude I feel like such a badass.”

Ramirez turned to look at Adam eyebrow raised, for the first time since their trip started, he seemed genuinely excited.

“Glad I’m not the only one!’

“Hey!”

The two of them drew to a halt in the mud turning to the side where they spotted a man sitting on one of the wooden porches. Ramirez’s eyes widened as he saw the shiny golden star on the left side of the man’s chest, “Sheriff!”

The man Raised an eyebrow probably not used to being greeted so enthusiastically.

“You two new around here?”

The two of them grinned at each other as the man’s exaggerated rural drawl fell over them.”

The man narrowed his eyes.

“Yes sir, just visiting.”

“Well you see this building behind me.”

“Yes sir.”

“You two fools get into any trouble and you'll be behind bars faster than a thoroughbred from the starting gate, you hear me.”

Ramirez jumped up and down in his boots turning to look at Adam, “Wild west jail.”

“Not a tourist attraction Ramirez.” He turned to look at the Sheriff who was still eying them and grabbed his friend by the shoulders steering them clear, “We’ll keep our noses out of trouble Sheriff.”

Ramirez was still grinning as they made their way down the street, “Do you have a death wish?”

“He won’t kill me, but wouldn’t going to cowboy jail be a great story.”

“Getting dragged would also be a great story when all my skin pealed off.”

“Dragged?”

“Old west form of punishment where you get dragged behind a horse till dead.”

Ramirez shook his head, “I will go with a no on that one, also not a big fan of hanging, but I could do a firing squad as long as I was allowed to make a really bad pun before I go.”

Adam snorted with some amusement as they made their way towards the loudest building on the street. From the sound of the out of tune piano on the inside and the drunken singing , they were in the right palace.

Adam Grabbed Ramirez by the back of the shirt and dragged him away from the swinging doors, “Hold on, hold on.”

Ramirez stopped, “What.’

“Ive always wanted to do ths.”

“Do what?”

Adam cracked his neck and his knuckles before stepping towards the door and pushing both open. The clatter of his boots was loud on the floor and Ramirez waited for that expected moment when all of the sound would stop and everyone would turn to look at them.

That…. Did not happen.

In fact, no one noticed the two young men as they made their way inside the hot, cramped room smelling of liquor and sweat.

“My disappointment is immeasurable and my day has been ruined.” Ramirez whispered.

Adam frowned, “yeah my expectations were, well, expecting something better than that.”

Together the two of them made their way over to the bar, both leaning against it in exaggerated nonchalance before bursting into laughter. The bartender, a stern looking redhead walked over, “And what do you boys want.”

Ramirez patted Adam on the back, “me and my friend are looking to get very drunk very quick, think you can help us.”

The woman sighed, but ducked behind the bar.

Adam tilted his head at Ramirez, “I thought you didn’t like it when I drank.”

“When you drink alone, yes, but when you drink with me, we have a party.”

“Sure we do.” Adam snorted

The woman came back a moment later with two shot glasses and bottle which she set on the bar, “This will get you drunk.”

Adam flipped over the bottle to take a look, “Shit, Ramirez, this is practically paint thinner.”

“Tastes like to too.” The woman said as she poured two shots of the stuff and slid it over to them.”

Adam took it gingerly like it was a snake about to bite him.

Ramirez raised the glass, “Ready when you are, cowboy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Adam said raising the glass, and together they kicked it back bith grimacing and sputtering as they came back up to set the shots back on the bar.

Adam wiped his eyes, “Damn, Like…. Rubbing alcohol.”

Ramirez waved a hand in front of his face “Makes my eyes burn just thinking about it. Another!”

“Sweet heavens above.”” Adam Implored, but slid his glass back to the bartender, who seemed very amused.

“Are we going to end up in jail by the time this is over.”

“Probably.”

They took another shot.

It was about ten or so minutes later when Adam started to feel the warm fuzzy sensation inside his chest. Ramirez had already vanished somewhere tryin to woo the local population. No one was safe.

He took a seat at the bar head down staring at his glass.

Why was he thinking about Sunny all of a sudden.

“Someone break your heart.” The bartender said dryly. When he looked up, he expected her to be wiping at the same greasy spot of counter with an even greasier rag, but she was simply leaned against the bar staring at him.

“That obvious?”

“Nine out of ten times its the best guess, besides, most of the time two shots from that bottle can lighten anyone’s mood.”

“You got something….. Strong but like…. Good tasting?”

“You mean something brightly colored and fruity?”

“Yeah, something brightly colored and fruity.” She Smirked, “You're braver than most men at this bar.”

“I knew we were dressing as cowboys, but I didn’t know the 1800s let us borrow their views on drinks too.”

She laughed, and returned a few second later with a martini glass full of bright green liquid, “There that should do for yah.”

He sipped at it a little, and satisfied it wasn’t going to peel the first layer of his insides began to drink.

“So, this girl of yours… she leave you.”

“No uh…. I sort of left her.”

“You some kind of simpleton…. Idiot maybe/”

He sighed and slumped down in his chair. “That’s what I’m told… I left her…. So I wouldn’t hurt her. I don’t think she understood but….. I’ve been pretty messed up since the war.”

“A soldier huh.”

“Not much of one.”

“ANd your friend over there, the one dancing on the table, is he a soldier too?”

Adam turned around to look towards where Ramirez was standing on a table and dancing around like a moron to the flight of the drunken crowd below, “He sighed, do you know what a synonym for moron is?”

“What/”

“A marine.” He stood, “Hold on a second while I go get him, “

He walked over to the table hands on hips and looked up,”Ramirez, Get down from there.”

“Or, or you could come up here.”

“Or I damn well won’t.”

He turned around in a circle stamping his boot and clapping his hands.

“Come on! Have some fun.” off in the corner the piano was going loudly getting faster and faster.”

“If you don’t come here I pull out the shoe.”

Adam looked back at the bartender who looked more amused than she did annoyed. So he sighed and held up a hand, “help me up.”

Ramirez grinned and grabbed him by the hand, helping to haul him into the table, where the two of them linked arms and began dancing around in a circle in some horrible tandem rendition of square dancing mixed with swing dancing. The table wobbled dangerously back and forth threatening to tip over as their weight distribution swayed around and around. Laughing and Drunken chanting started up as the piano started to go faster and faster.

Those who were able to sing along in time with the words, soon stumbled over them, their lips tripping over the words that spilled from their mouths.

Adam and Ramirez stomped their boots and kicked up their heels in a wild tornado, both of them having surprisingly good rhythm. The piano grew faster and faster and faster until they were simply spinning around in a wild circle.

And then the door slammed open.

The piano cut off, and Ramirez went tumbling into Adam causing the two of them to pitch backward off the table and hit the floor with a loud “thud”. The room was dead silent except for the sound of boots rattling over the ground.

Adam ad Ramirez groaned rolling into sitting positions as they looked up at the intruder.

The man they saw was…. Greasy and unkempt with a snarled black beard and a pockmarked face. He wore a tatty black leather jacket and grimy fingerless gloves. His clothing was travel stained and filthy. When he walked into the room, his smell was just as present as he was.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He said, “it looked like we were just getting to the fun part.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing back here Louis.” the bartender snarled,”I thought we made it very clear that you weren’t welcome last time.”

The man raised his hands innocently, “Oh please, I am just here to/...collect charitable donations.”

“Get out! Or we call the sherif.”

“Sheriff is busy…. Chasing outlaws outside of town.”

Adam and Ramirez exchanged looks as they slowly got to their feet.

The man reached towards his belt, “You boys stay right where you are.”

Adam raised his hands, “Woah, no harm done.”

Adam glanced towards Ramirez, giving him a look as he began to inch quietly to the side. Adam moved strategically in the opposite direction keeping his hands up.

He tried to look as shifty as possible to keep the man’s attention, “I think you should leave like the lady said.”

“Oh ho so one of the twinkle toes dancing boys thinks I should leave.”

“I do, so i am going to ask politely first.”

“And then what.” his hand inched down hovering over the grip of his gun. Adam did the same, though his fingers had gone numb. He was a good shot, but dueling! He knew he would fumble! He just knew it.

“I’m going to stop you.”

He laughed, “Oh you wil,l will you.”

Adam stared hard at the man’s face watching Ramirez move into position behind the man’s back, “I will…. I have the angel’s on my side.”

The man started to laugh.

Ramirez struck, grabbing a bottle from the nearest table and cracking the man across the back of the head with it. The man went down hard but Ramirez doubled over clutching his hand,”Fuck….. My hand! I thought those were so supposed to break! Shit.”

Adam leaped forward pinning the man to the ground.

A few other men and women rushed forward to help and soon enough they had him hog tied on the floor.

He stood up heart beating with exhilaration.

Ramirez rubbed his hand and groaned in pain.

Adam pressed his knee into the man’s back.

The bar tender came around from behind the bar, “That was a dumb move boys brave but dumb.”

Adam looked over to where ramirez was still nursing his wound, “yeah, I think that describes us pretty well doesn’t it. I got this guy, the rest of you can go back to drinking.”

The bartender shook her head, “You buys drink free tonight.”

Ramirez grinned, “how can I say no to that! Drinks on me!”

Adam ignored the cheering of the bar for a moment, as he pulled the guns from the mn’s belt, and…. A very large knife. He noticed the decorative handle and, out of curiosity, pulled it out. It felt heavy in his grip, with good heft. He tested the edge against the hairs on the back of his arm, and they fell away smooth.

“Not bad.” he muttered.

Sunny would like…..

He paused

Looked down, looked around and then back down fighting with himself internally before.

Discreetly tucking the knife into his own, empty, knife sheath.”

Looking up he saw one of the serving girls staring at him.

He blushed and held up a finger to his lips.

She smiled, ruby red lips parting slightly, and winked at him, turning away exaggeratedly as if she hadn’t seen anything.

The door crashed open again a few moments later, and the Sheriff came barging into the room huffing and puffing like a bull, covered in dust, fingers stained with cordite. He paused in te doorway frowned at the scene before him and walked over, “Louis Grey.”

He looked down at Adam, and then Over at Ramirez who was taking advantage of his momentary glory.

“Thought I told you not to get into trouble.”

“You never told us not to stop it.”

He grunted and motioned to a few men to help him drag the body back to the jail, “Guess this is a thanks I owe you then. He has outstanding warrants in several counties, can never catch him though greasy little weasel.”

The unconscious man was dragged away only just beginning to stir. The sheriff shook his hand. “You boys be safe, and try not to do something so dumb next time.”

Adam touched the brim of his hat. “Yes sir.” He reached down to touch the knife at his belt, “We will make sure of it.”

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