#ah well Shadow will be scrubbed sooner or later

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then I noticed Shadow was whining for a walk, and Alice's Fury was starting to build to dangerous levels, so Victor got sent out to take the dog on a nice long stroll around the countryside, and Alice got sent out to indulge in some zoomies! Leaving poor Smiler back home to handle the farm all alone. XD They did quite well on their own, though -- finished cleaning up all the plates; started the laundry; petted the kittens; harvested all their herbalism stuff and plasma fruit; gave Moory a good thorough brushing (which she enjoyed) and told her a joke (which she didn't); and fed the chickens, gathered the eggs, and cleaned the chicken coop! I mean, it's pretty easy to get around when you're a vampire and have one of the game's best teleports with bat form, but still. Good job, buddy! :D

-->Victor and Alice eventually came back from their adventures in the countryside -- though it took Victor a little while longer than Alice. Mostly because Shadow kept doing that thing that Sims 4 dogs sometimes do on walks, where they just run off in a random direction REALLY FAR AWAY, and then their owner gets stuck waiting for them to come back. (Though at least once Victor turned the tables on Shadow by running far ahead of HER, as you can see in the pictures.) I finally ended up just canceling the walk entirely when Victor got REALLY stuck on the bridge over the river Bagley near their house. Mostly because the poor guy was STINKING, and he couldn't do anything about it until the damn walk was over. Once he was freed, he was able to Scruberoo himself -- and pick up Shadow's poop, because of COURSE she waited until this very moment by the bridge to do her business. *sigh* At least it's good fertilizer!

-->Alice, for her part, came back from her Zoomies in good temper, and after a somber howl to drop the Fury down to pretty much nil, went ahead and had a little dance time before marking her territory and getting in a nap. She woke up and changed back to normal around the time Victor got home, and then went to see if Moory would enjoy her jokes better -- apparently not, judging by that facial expression. This cow does not have much of a sense of humor! *shakehead* Sad.

#sims 4 #the lazy save #victor van dort #alice liddell #smiler always #Victor and Alice: Bye Smiler we're off to walk the dog and walk myself have fun running the farm! #well Smiler did pretty well for themselves #like I said having that bat teleport helps but still XD #and yeah poor Victor spent so much time just standing around as Shadow ran all over the damn countryside #like I don't know WHY the game allows dogs to do that #I know that dogs may often want to run ahead of their owners but still #that's a bit extreme #at least Victor was able to get her to come back to the bridge in the end #and use Scruberoo to fix his stinkiness problem #a shame that I'm pretty certain you can't Scruberoo pets #that would make bathtime a whole lot simpler #ah well Shadow will be scrubbed sooner or later #and yes Moory is a hard cow to please sometimes #at least she hasn't kicked over the milk pail yet! #queued

[underfell-crystal]

~~Catch and Keep~~

An AU where Harp (named Fern in this AU) is stuck underground with @avtfol 's Fallen Soul crew, properly deemed the 'Fallen Soul AU'. Warning: I went a little crazy with this and it's super long.

TW: Starving, being chased, kidnapping kinda, a bit of swearing

Fern had been down here for five months. She honestly didn't know how she had survived. Each encounter with any monsters threatened to shatter the orange heart she'd learned was the culmination of her being.

Five months down here with barely any food had taken a toll on her body. She was far thinner and bonier than she would've liked, but hey, at least she wasn't dead yet.

She was on her daily route through the watery area of wherever she was, past the brutally cold snow. There was much more life here, not to mention warmer, if only by a bit. Learning which things she could and couldn't eat had taken some trial and error (another few close calls with death), but she had finally gotten most of Waterfall's plants categorized into 'edible' or 'non-edible'.

Crouching next to a glowing mushroom, she took out her pocket knife and carefully cut away a piece, tucking it into a fairly clean cloth. She continued to do this to a few more mushrooms, pausing to make sure there were no sounds of anything else moving nearby before crouching down and devouring the glowy, rubbery-feeling mushrooms. They didn't taste the best, but they kept her alive.

After eating her share of mushrooms, she stood up to get away from the path. Then she saw the shadow. Her gaze slowly traveled from the shadow to the shiny gold and aqua boots, going all the way up to the person's- skeleton's???- face. One green light and one red light stared back at her.

Shit.

She turned and bolted into the tall grass, a startled shout of surprise coming from behind her. Nope. Nuh uh. She would rather not have a near death encounter, thank you very much!

From what she could tell, the skeleton wasn't chasing her, so after a while she stopped to catch her breath. Stars, how tall had it been?? Much taller than her, she knew that. Seven feet? Maybe eight? She prayed this was a one time encounter. She didn't want to actually be involved in an encounter with it. Something that big would not pull its punches when fighting.

.

.

.

It wasn't a one time encounter. Fern kept running into the skeleton. After her first glimpse of him at Waterfall, she ran into him four other times at different places and times. She thought the skeleton was a 'he' from the alarmingly deep voice that came from his fanged jaws whenever he saw her. She never stuck around long enough to hear what he was saying, with the current encounter being no exception.

As she turned and started running away from the massive skeleton, she felt something whizz past her, and something suddenly appeared in her way. She shrieked in alarm and crashed into them, stumbling backwards in horror when she realized it was the same skeleton she was just running away from. How-?

He reached his arm out to her, and she scuttled backward, tripping over a root and landing on her behind. He looked unimpressed with her attempt to flee him again and strode closer. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She squawked in fear, flailing around and trying to free herself. The skeleton seemed unfazed and started walking while she failed to free herself from his grasp. Stars, why did she have to be cursed with tiny arms and legs...

After a few minutes of struggling, she gave up and laid limply on the shoulder of the tall skeleton carrying her. Where was he taking her? Why didn't he just kill her? Was he taking her back to his place to eat her?? Wait, did monsters even eat humans?

She didn't even notice they had arrived at their destination until she heard the sound of a door opening, which snapped her out of her thoughts. Fern looked around, confused. He had taken her to some kind of house in.... what had the sign called it? Oh, right. Snowdin.

She felt the hand on her back move, and she was promptly pulled off the skeleton's shoulder and plopped unceremoniously onto the couch with a squeak. She just laid there, frozen, staring up at the skeleton looming above her. After a minute of him just staring at her, he sighed. "You're very dirty. You need a shower."

"I- huh??"

What? This guy had kidnapped her to... make her take a shower??? Okay, she knew she probably looked and smelled awful, but she hadn't been bothering anybody, so.... why was she here? He looked irritated. "Are you deaf?"

"No! I'm just..... Why am I here???"

He tilted his skull, looking down at her. "You would've died out there sooner or later."

She felt like there was something else that made him decide to go through all this trouble just to catch a human, but she decided to focus on what he'd told her. "What? I was doing fine on my own!"

"All it takes is one or two unlucky encounters with some monsters and you would've been a corpse."

Wow, okay, morbid much? "Uh....... Thanks? I think?"

"You can thank me once you no longer stink of rot and dirt."

Fern bit back her irritation. It wasn't like there were just showers in the middle of the woods and marshes, Mr. Skeleton. Plus, when she did shower under the waterfalls, she just got dirty again. And it wasn't like she was aiming to impress anybody with her looks. "Okay, fine. Where's the bathroom?"

"Second floor. First door. Leave your dirty clothes outside the door."

Keeping an eye on the monster, Fern made her way upstairs, following the monster's directions. Inside the bathroom, everything was slightly bigger than she remembered; probably to accommodate the eight foot tall Goliath downstairs. She shook her head. She could still see over the sink and into the mirror. She blinked at the dirty face in front of her. She barely recognized herself.

Shaking her head, she turned on the faucet to the shower and peeled off her gross, dirty clothes. Okay, yeah, they felt good to take off. She opened the door a bit to drop her dirty clothes outside the door before shutting and locking it. Steam slowly filled the room, and she could barely contain her glee as she stepped into the hot stream of water. Oh my stars.... It had been AGES since she'd had a hot shower. She noted there was no shampoo or conditioner (with the skeleton, she highly doubted there was a NEED for such things), but there was bar soap, which she seized and immediately started using to clean herself off. She could FEEL all the dirt and grime and 'wilderness' in general washing off her the longer she stood in the hot water.

She stayed in there for about an hour, scrubbing herself clean and letting all the dirt on her body wash off. It felt so nice to finally rub all that dirt off her face. Finally, when she felt sufficiently washed, she turned off the water and grabbed one of the large, fluffy towels hanging from the door. It easily covered her entire body when she wrapped it around her shoulders. Well... Being short in a house that belonged to a giant had SOME perks, she mused as she dried herself off.

Wait.

Clothes. Where....?

Making sure she was still wrapped up and covered, she opened the door and saw a neatly folded pile of clothes sitting next to the door. Oh. He had washed them. She grabbed them and brought them back inside the bathroom, changing back into her fresh (although worn) clothes. It had been so long since she'd been clean. She looked through the cabinets, and, surprisingly, she found a comb. The skeleton didn't have hair, but she decided not to question it, combing out her tangled, stark white hair. Detangling her hair was an entirely different beast that she managed to defeat in about fifteen minutes, finally letting herself examine her reflection in the mirror again.

Ah.

That looked more like the Fern she used to see in the mirror. Her face was still pale and thin, but it was... a start.

Oh right. There was still an eight foot tall skeleton downstairs, waiting for her.

Well, best not to keep him waiting...

She unlocked the bathroom door again and stepped out, descending down the stairs as quietly as she could. The skeleton wasn't in view. For a moment, she considered running for it. But, he hadn't tried to kill her yet, plus he had given her a hot shower. So, she sighed and sat on the couch to wait.

--Copper POV--

He was in the kitchen when he heard the faint sound of the bathroom door opening. Quiet footsteps made their way down the stairs, pausing before continuing for a moment, followed by the creaking of the couch. Good. The human hadn't tried to run off.

He walked out of his brother's room and down the stairs. The human was sitting on the couch, staring at him with large, light blue eyes, almost expectantly. He had to admit, without all the dirt and mud on them, they were fairly attractive. The human coughed. "So, uh..... Why am I here? Why are you being nice to me?"

He strode to stand in front of the human, folding his arms. "I brought you here because I want to test you."

".... On what? Math?"

"What? No. On your strength."

"Look, uh, Mr. Skeleton, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're almost twice as tall as me, and my arms look like literal twigs right now."

Oh, right. He knew he had forgotten something. Sustenance. Human bodies required a lot of upkeep. Without responding, he marched to the kitchen and hunted through the fridge for something to reheat, his multi-colored gaze landing on a tupperware full of spaghetti. Perfect. Pulling the plastic box out, he dumped the contents onto a plate and stuck it into the microwave, turning to observe the human again. "My name is Copper. Captain Copper."

"Uh.... Fern..."

Fern... An interesting name choice. "You were named after a plant."

Fern made a face at him, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her bottom lip. "You were named after a metal."

Well, his real name wasn't, but the human didn't need to know that. "... Fair enough."

"So, you kidnapped me just to make me take a shower and then... fight me?"

"If that's how you want to put it, then yes."

"And what if I don't want to fight you?"

The human was tense. Nervous. It was kind of endearing, how they tried to seem unafraid but were practically shaking. He briefly considered telling the human he would kill them if they didn't challenge him, but decided to have mercy on the skittish little thing. "It's not exactly a fight. An arm wrestling competition, if you will."

"Uh, my arms are still twigs, man."

"Correct. Which is why you'll be eating actual food and not those glowing mushrooms."

"You're.... Feeding me?"

"I can't have a fair fight if my opponent is withering away."

The microwave beeped, and Copper took it out, stirring it with a fork before walking back to the human and holding it out. The human gave him a suspicious look, and he rolled his eyelights. "It's spaghetti. It's not poisoned or anything."

"... Fuck it, I'll take my chances."

Copper had never seen anyone inhale their food quite as fast as the human inhaled the spaghetti. He didn't think they even chewed. In less than a minute, all the spaghetti had been sucked up and devoured by the ravenous human. He was... kind of impressed, if he was being honest with himself. They set the empty plate down, wiping their mouth free of the sauce. "... I haven't had actual food in AGES."

"How long have you even been out there?"

"Eh..... Five months, give or take."

Five months... Copper supposed he shouldn't have been surprised with how wild she looked, but jeez, five months was a long time for a human to survive down here on their own. "I see."

He turned away from the human. "For now, I will feed you and make sure monsters aren't actively trying to kill you. However, there will be rules if you're going to stay here. The first is that you're not allowed outside on your own until it has been established that no monsters will attack you. The second is that if I tell you to do something, you have to do it. If I say run or hide, you will do those things. The final rule is that you-"

As he turned to look at the human, he was met with their unconscious form draped over the cushions. He faltered, then sighed. The human was probably rather tired. Well, they clearly hadn't slept in an actual bed in a while. No use leaving them on the couch in that uncomfortable-looking position. With a sigh, he scooped up the human and went upstairs, laying them on his bed. They were so... small...

He shook his head out of his thoughts. Enough of that.

He had work to do.

#oc oneshots #oc short story #harp and copper #fern #fallen soul au #fern and copper

[mysteryspot-duhh]

This is still in movie plot-point format, with a lilttle bit dialog thrown in. This one is longer than before.

-Next, we see Rey running. Rushing to find Leia. She finds Leia sitting, in the place where they had their meeting earlier. Her hand clutching her chest. Teary eyed, Rey sobs. 'Ben needs help.' She approaches Leia and kneels. 'Should I find and go to him?' (UGH YEARNING). Leia wipes her single tear off her cheek. 'No.' She gets up. 'You have a much more important mission'. Rey is confused and gets angry and frustrated. 'He is your son! He is betrayed..and..and injured. I saw him. Just now! We should help him! He needs to know you are not abandoning him!' Leia doesn't stop and goes outside.

Outside, finn, poe, rose, chewie are loading the falcon with supplies (I'm gonna call them + Rey, The Gang)

Leia to Rose, 'I need you to report everything,' her gaze shifts to Finn and Poe, '..i mean EVERYTHING', and gives out the sweetest smile she can. 'I will, General.' Rose promises. 'May The Force be with you' They get into the falcon. Rey, still angry at Leia, stops to say something, but Leia pulls her into a hug. 'Rey, thank you, for saving my son.' The hug tightens. 'I am heartbroken with what happened, but..' now they face each other, '..he needs to fall before he RISES.' There is a gleam of hope in Leia's eyes. 'I know now that my son isn't gone, he is still here... And you will bring him home. To me.' Leia's smile grows wider. 'I am always with him,' now they are both teary eyed, '..and you.' Rey leaves Leia, 'Rey, MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU, ALWAYS' (UGH, I NEED THIS MOTHER -DAUGHTER THING WITH LEIA AND REY)

- Next, we have Kylo Ren, walking away from a very bad landing. His TIE-fighter crashed on the beach. He is now walking through a grassfield filled with yellow wildflowers. He sees a house and a tall, elderly man tending to his horses (I KNOW THE ANIMALS ARE WEIRD IN STAR WARS, BUT JUST GO WITH IT). The winds hitting his face make the bruises go numb. He cups his still bleeding torso. The man notices him, and rushes towards him. (THE MAN IS RICHARD E GRANT GUYS. DEFINITELY NOT MOFF TARKIN'S RIP OFF)

-In Pryde's house, Kylo wakes up and notices everything inside the room is grey, except the yellow wildflowers in a vase. And there is Luke, in the corner, just watching him. (GUYS, I AM HAVING TOO MUCH FUN WITH LUKE MESSING AROUND WITH HIS NEPHEW AND WATCHING HIM SLEEP)

Kylo tries to sit up. He winces still looking at Luke. Pryde comes in- 'ah, you're awake. I have some fresh clothes.' He stops and look at where Kylo looks, but doesn't see anything. He looks back at Kylo who now staring at him. '-and you need some medicine for the injuries.' Pryde gets out of the room.

'Bet you had a good sleep.' Luke grins. He is ignored, as usual. Luke notices the bleeding hasn't stopped. 'Do you remember, back in the academy we learn how to use the Force to heal wound and in this case, very heavy injuries?' Kylo seems to recall his thoughts. Hesitantly, ' No.' Luke moves towards him, hand on Ben's torso and starts to force heal him. The bleeding stops and the scar heals. The one on his face too.

Ben looks at Luke, 'Uncl-', Pryde comes in with a bowl of medicine. He is shocked to see all the bruises on Ben's face and body heals. Leaving no trace. And we find, again, Luke disappears.

- Now, the gang lands on a grassfield. Walking towards the cave and what is supposed to be the abandon rebel station. All around them is silence. 'If this is a trap, we're screwed.' Poe holds his blaster up. 'Better light your saber Rey,' Rose tells Rey who looks at her and then walks to the cave.

'Are you the resistance?' A lady emerges from the shadow of the cave. 'Are you here to fight the First Order?' More people are coming out of the shadow. Only now Rey lights her lightsaber. 'Yeah, we are,' Poe confirms, '..who are you?' 'I'm Zorri Bliss, former princess of Kajimi. These are my people.' (AWW SNAP. I MADE KERI RUSSEL A PRINCESS YALL. ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES)

Still in doubt, 'how do you know to contact us?''with a help of a friend of course.' And out come Lando out of the cave. (YEAH, YOU WANT NOSTALGIA, HERE'S NOSTALGIA)

- They sit inside the cave discussing.

'This place used to be peaceful, free. We had a lot, we were prosperous. But once First Order came, they took everything. Our resources, our children. They are used to wage war against the galaxy. They had help. The First Order came here, helped by some of the people who wants more than what they have!' Zorri puts on a brave face, but inside we know she's heartbroken. 'Those who opposed them are taken as prisoner, some of them slaughtered. My father is one of them.' Again, silence surrounds them.

'Once she escaped, her knights found me.' Lando breaks the silence. 'You see, I didn't know what happen during Crait. I found out about it, after the story of Luke spreads around the galaxy. I went to our allies, checked on them, asking why didn't they come to your aid-'

'Yeah, they blocked our communication channels.' Finn chimes in. Unsatisfied.

'So, what do you want us to do?' Rose, eager to know.

Lando gets up, twirls his cape a little bit. 'You see my friends, I need you guys to blow something up.' A sly smile on his face. 'The channels are jammed by a satellite...and it is just across the the hills.' Lando points. 'in the courtyard of Princess Zorri's castle.'

Poe looks around. 'We don't have enough hands.' 'I know where we can get more.' Zorri answers Poe and smiles. (IM HINTING THAT I SHIP ZORRI AND POE)

- Ben now replaced his good boy sweater with the clothes Pryde gave. (ITS GREY OKAY, GREY, KIND OF LIKE WHAT ANAKIN WORE IN ROTS BUT GREY UGHHHH, WE WERE ROBBED)

Ben walks towards Pryde with caution. 'Come, help me.' Pryde who is scrubbing his horse says to Ben. 'The other one needs a scrub too.' 'O..okay.' 'I'm sorry about your ship.' Ben stops. 'Yeah, I know who you are. You are from the First Order. Thought you are a stormtrooper deserter, but you are too tall. So, you can't be,' (CAUSE LEIA SAID LUKE IS TOO SHORT TO BE A STROMTROOPER, BUT ADAM DRIVER IS TALL YALL) Pryde stops his scrubbing and looks at Ben, '..and i found this'. His lightsaber. Ben takes it, plays it in his hand. 'You are not afraid of me?' Pryde just smiles and walks towards the field. Ben follows. 'Give me a reason I should be afraid of you.' Ben doesn't say anything. Something about this place makes him calm, his rage dims. Or is it?

'I've faced Vader.' Those words makes Ben jumps.

'I was a young officer in the Empire. Just a small post. No one would notice if I'm gone. I had big ambition, but then, I saw Vader, I saw the destruction the Empire did. Even before the Death Star. Somehow, i managed to get away from it.'

'I found this place, swore to never have any part in any destruction. I would not even hurt a fly these days.'

'Why, didn't you join the Rebellion?' Ben asks. 'Same thing. The Empire, The Rebellion. Vader, Luke Skywalker. They all leads to destruction one way or another. Light, dark. Both sides are using the force irresponsibly. Destroying everything to the ground!' Pryde now faces Ben. '.. And you of all people should know that.' He walks away.

'Why did you help me?' 'I have compassion'

- The gang is in the Millennium Falcon, approaching a very quiet village. 'Okay, Finn. Now it's your turn.' Poe says. (CAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT, THIS IS THE VILLAGE WHERE JANNAH AND THE OTHER STORMTROOPERS LIVE AND FINN NEEDS TO CONVINCE THEM TO HELP. WOOT! WOOT! PAY OFF FROM THE FIRST MOVIE SAY WHATTT!)

They enter kind of like an eatery. (Picture The Mandalorian). 'No weapons.' The server says. 'I'll go outside' Rey offers to keep all their weapons.

They meet Jannah. 'Zorri said someone would be looking for me. Are you looking for me?' 'You Jannah?' Finn asks. Jannah offers them to sit. ' Look, we need your help. All of you.' 'You are Finn right? The former stormtrooper who deserted. Never thought you would pick up a weapon again,' she laughs and continues loudly, '.. Oh, wait, this time for the resistance. The good guys.' Her laughs echoes around the room and others join. 'We just want to live in peace! We don't want to risk our life anymore not FOR ANY CAUSE.' Finn gets up and faces the people. 'Well, then too bad! Too bad that you are no longer risking your life even for the right cause. If you keep on being like this, you will never be at peace! Cause you know what?! Sooner or later, the First Order will be here. They will be everywhere,.. all over the galaxy. More children like us will be taken, away from their families, fighting a war that would never ends. Wherever you go, they will find you-'

'And you think, us following you will stop it from happening?!!'

'We just have to believe and have hope.'

-Rey is outside. Clearly her mind is not here.

'Where are you?' Rey sees Ben is right in front of her. 'Ben..are you okay?' 'You are not with Leia. You're at someplace else.' ' Ben, are you hurt?' Rey looks at Ben, but she feels that something is different with him. 'Where are you?' He asks again. Not revealing the answer, Rey pleads. 'Ben, come home.' With that, Ben severs the connection. Rey feels disappointed but then she feels restless. She enters the eatery.

They are shouting at each other, which she just now notices as she did not pay any attention before. 'Guys, we need to go. I have A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS'. Rey shouts. Then we have the FO attacking that place. They've been following them. Not sure from where. Hopefully not from the cave. 'DO YOU SEE NOW JANNAH?!' Finn shouts. 'YOU LURED THEM TO US.' 'NO. WE NEED YOU. WHY WOULD WE DO THAT.' Now Poe is shouting. 'YOU GUYS, STOP! WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!' Rose chimes in. 'Please, Jannah, join us, and help us save what we love. (UGH OF COURSE JANNAH AND HER GROUP FOLLOW THEM AFTER THAT). We then have the standard spaceship fight and all that exciting stuff.

-The First Order received information on what happen on Kajimi.

'Those scum!' Hux exclaims. 'Sir, the satellite that blocks the communication is on Kajimi.' 'I am aware of that! Prepare the ship to raid the resistance base. I'll make sure nobody will survive.'

-At the same time, report from Rose comes in. 'General,-' 'You need to evacuate, now! Bring all our fighters to Kajimi. Prepare for a battle.' Connix nods at the orders.

- The FO comes just as the last supply transport ship flies away. 'General, we need to leave-' C3PO says befere Leia dimisses it 'You need to run, hide, leave me here.' 'What, no. General-' Connix says who is then shoved into a nearby bushes. From the distance, some of the resistance fighter put up a fight. Leia sees Hux coming towards her. 'Hide!' Now, Leia and Hux are facing each other.

'Leia Organa. The Leia Organa.' Leia knows Hux is mocking her. 'Well, your son iS DEAD! In the end, he was beaten by somebody who doesn't even have the Force. Pathetic!'

'Every word you just said, is wrong, General Hux. (SEE WHAT I DID THERE!) My son is alive, there is light in him ...and at least, he fights his own battles. That is more than what you are capable of. ' Leia said calmly before she stops talking. Hux has fired the blaster directly through her chest.

'We head to Kajimi.' Hux says. Gritting through his teeth.

-end of second act-

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 28- Scientific Methods

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Nonexplicit sexual content toward the middle of the chapter.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire.)

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Scientific Methods

He’s being absurd.

It only takes one person to fly Nightshrike, true, and she won’t deny that Theron is perfectly capable (of the two of them he really is the better pilot, though he’d gloat for days to hear her say it), but she’s never liked letting her out of her hands.

“Also-” the speeder glides up the ramp into the docking bag, the hatch raising up behind them- “I’m Alliance Commander. I outrank you. More to the point, she’s my damned ship.”

Fastening the last of the tie-downs, Theron slings the strap of the sample container over his shoulder and starts herding her toward the medical bay like a bantha into a pen. “Yes, but-”

“I don’t need medbay.”

“Yes, you do.” He steers her around the couch. “Protocol’s protocol.”

She scowls. “When have you ever cared about protocol? It took you two days of headaches to even agree to go to the infirmary the last time you hit your head.”

“True. But I-” When they reach the medical bay Theron stands just behind her, blocking off her exit route when she tries to duck around him, and she braces herself against the door. She’s still a little dizzy- just the sedative wearing off, she’s sure- “had a concussion. You had a seizure. If something’s really wrong-”

“There is nothing wrong with me!” She sighs, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I’m fine.”

He rests his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll get us up and jumped. But the sooner we get you checked out, the better.”

“Later.” Nine digs in her heels, resisting his push. “I’ll use Lokin’s scanner once we’re back on Alderaan. Let’s just get out of here.”

His hands wrap around her waist instead, then, and he lifts her through the doorway, twisting to avoid her as she swats at him in protest. “Nope. Scan first.”

“Let go of me, Theron.” If he’s going to fuss this much she’s going to make him work for it; she goes obstinately limp, the toes of her boots brushing across the floor as he keeps moving across the room with her suspended in his arms. “Doctor Oggurobb’s run every test in his arsenal on me a dozen times over since I got out of carbonite. Physically, I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Then just humor me. Please?”

“Are you going to lock me in here until I do?”

“Probably, yeah. It’s that or hit you with a tranq dart and you’ve already had a pretty heavy dose today.”

She kicks backward at him for that but her foot passes through empty air, and when he stops in front of the medscanner she sighs. “If it’ll make you stop worrying so damned much, fine. But if you crash my ship-”

“I’m not going to crash your ship,” Theron says, kissing the back of her neck, finally letting her go and setting the sample box down on the lab bench to his left. “I’ll come check on you as soon we’re locked into the route.”

She fights the urge to throw the nearest thing to hand at him- that’d be the genetic samples, and they’d spent far too much time wrangling rakghouls for her to waste them in a fit of pique. Instead she settles for activating the scanner with an irritated swipe of her finger along the screen and, as it hums to life, starts to strip out of her clothing again .

(It doesn’t take long, not with all her underclothes still wadded into a sodden ball in their gear bag. The bedsheet had only helped to dry her halfway but the friction of it, the rough-woven fabric between Theron’s hands and her bare skin, could almost have passed for warmth, and the breeze through her hair as she picked off rakghouls from the gunner’s seat of the speeder did the rest. Still, she’d prefer to spend the journey back to Alderaan with a hot shower, hotter caf and perhaps a nap- no, definitely a nap, why’s she so tired when she was out for hours?- instead of yet another afternoon spent in infirmary.

But when she turns back to set her jacket on the examination table he takes it from her, instead, laying it down carefully, and the way he looks at her takes the fight out of her.

The war’s only beginning and already she’s so tired of it; the last person she wants to fight is him.)

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Theron knows the layout of her ship now, not like the first few trips where when one of them got hurt he had to search through every cabinet for supplies (granted, she wasn’t much better- they’d moved everything from where it lived in her memory and she had to relearn it all, too) and he opens one of the doors to pull out a blanket, draping it over her body as she settles down onto the scanner’s bed. “And I’ll get some caf going.”

“Finally, the man says something reasonable.”

He grins.

***

She drifts in and out of sleep, she thinks, the steady rhythmic hum of the rotating machine lulling her eyelids closed, but even so she can feel it when they make the jump to hyperspace.

She loves the feel of it, of flying, of the void of space- the first time she’d been allowed off Dromund Kaas as a student- barely even a journey in the grand scheme of things since they’d only gone to see the shipyards at Dromund Kalakar- when the ship’s engines roared to life and they broke atmo half her classmates were sick and she just laughed, joyful, at the way her heart pulled taut inside her chest.

Today is no different.

They jump. Her pulse stutters; she smiles, and keeps drifting.

***

She wakes again to the slow outward slide of the scanner bed, its programmed cycle finished, and turns her head to check the room.

No Theron. No clothing, either: her armor’s gone from the table where she left it and the sample kit’s plugged into the main cryo unit. He must have come in while she slept.

(Normally she’d worry that she hadn’t noticed it. But he could move quietly when he wanted to- he wouldn’t have survived in the SIS if he couldn’t and that he’d managed to sneak out of her bed was proof enough; with anyone else that would have been her job- and she knew he would have tried so hard to let her rest-

Ah, stars, she doesn’t deserve him-)

She sits up, letting the blanket fall. By the sound of the hyperdrive they’re well on their way so she won’t be needed on the bridge for hours, not until they get close enough to require full stealth. Time for a shower, then.

Out of habit she checks the readout- normal. Ghosts and AIs and torture and five fucking years in carbonite and still her scans are fucking normal. Next verse, same as the first, and when she thinks it there’s an echo in her head like the memory of laughter.

As she pads, barefoot and undressed, from medical bay to their quarters she glances further down the corridor toward the bridge. The door’s open but Theron’s not in the pilot’s chair. Where’s he wandered off to? Shrugging, she keeps walking- past the bed, still neatly made from this morning, their bags tucked together at its foot; past the desk, less tidy, datapads and caf cups scattered across its top- until she reaches the ‘fresher.

When the first drops of water hit her skin the water’s already hot and she lets her hair down, lets the water soak in until it hangs heavy down her back. Even with her earlier drenching she still feels dirty, sweat and blood and urine in her nostrils and over all of it the half-dead smell of Taris (sometimes she thinks the Sith that bombed the planet all those years ago had the right idea- if only they’d finished the job properly). Turning toward the shelf and the little bottles, she fills her palm with bright-scented soap and takes a deep breath in.

That’s better.

Minutes pass; she cleans the day from her skin, inch by inch, until she’s pink from heat and scrubbing but finally, finally clean.

She ought to shut the water off. She ought to get dressed. Her muscles ache, though, and she bends forward, palms pressed flat to the tiles as the backs of her legs howl protest.

I am not accustomed to being ignored, Cipher. She can’t tell if his voice is echoing off the tiles or the inside of her skull, and she turns, snapping upright so quickly her head spins. Do you really think you can shut me out?

“If you’ve got something useful to say, then please, go ahead. But I’ve finally got the blood out of my hair so if all you mean to do is hurt me-”

She could never picture Valkorion as a father, even having seen him beside Arcann. But when he sighs, deep and long-suffering, water droplets hanging in the still air around him like bits of shimmering glass, she almost feels sorry for his children.

Almost.

What is my son doing at this moment, I wonder? My daughter? Not chasing after beasts to help a dying old man. How many more of your allies have died while you distract yourself with foolish errands?

His words cut deep. She frowns, looks down at herself, at her toes, at the flat unmarred skin of her stomach, pristine and scarless, and-

Wait.

Wait.

(and there is a noise just beyond her hearing, more a feeling than a sound, that reminds her more than anything of someone rather smugly clearing his throat, and the world twists around her and-)

***

Nine wakes again to the slow outward slide of the scanner bed, its programmed cycle finished, and sits up in a panic.

Shoving the blanket aside, she drags her fingers across her belly until they catch on the puckered edge of the scar. When she looks down this time she can see it, too, soft pink beneath her hand, and the five crimson lines etched along her ribs- everything where it ought to be.

Her heart’s racing, body prickling in a cold sweat; she pulls the blanket back up over her chest, wiping the damp from her skin as she glances around the room.

Still empty.

Her armor’s gone again and Theron’s nowhere to be found, just as before, but now she thinks she can hear him, humming deliberately off-key somewhere near the kitchen, and when she reads the scanner’s screen once again (she’s almost afraid to- what if-) the results are exactly the same. Normal. Always normal.

Now she really does need a shower.

She practically runs toward the cabin and the ‘fresher, slips inside and into the shower cubicle before the door gets halfway open and slaps the panel so hard her hand stings. The water’s hot, as it should be; the tiles are cool beneath her feet, against her forehead as she slumps against the back wall. The bottles on the shelf sit in a neat line, soap second from left. As it should be.

Her hand shakes as she reaches for the bottle.

I’m losing it. The soap alone isn’t enough to strip the discomfort away. Taking up the cleaning-cloth, she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until her skin’s raw and her hands are shaking. I’m fucking losing it. Can’t even tell what’s real any more, or what’s in my head-

Footsteps, a shadow in the doorway: she turns, steadying herself against the tiles. If it’s Valkorion again-

“If you keep going at that rate,” Theron says quietly, “you’re not going to have much skin left. What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I fell asleep in the scanner. Just a-”

“Nightmare?” He sighs; he’s got a mug of caf in each hand and sets them both on the counter as he steps in toward her. “Must have been bad. You look like you just saw a ghost.”

She shrugs, raising an eyebrow, and he nods understanding.

“That kind of nightmare.”

“Yes.” She hangs the cleaning-cloth back on its hook.

Theron leans against the rim of the sink. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” (She should. She really, really should, and Theron always asks, even when the answer’s almost always no. It helps sometimes, but so often what Valkorion’s dredged up isn’t something she wants to remember. She supposes that’s why he chooses them. And if he can still manipulate her into seeing things that aren’t there at all, well-)

“Okay,” he says, and it isn’t- she can hear it in his voice- but he just shrugs.

“I think I’ll stay in here for a little while, if we’ve got time. I still need to wash my hair.”

“We won’t make scanner range of Alderaan for a few hours yet. Take all the time you need.” He picks up the right-hand caf cup and takes a sip before he sets it back beside the other. “Though I remember you as the short shower type, given I’m pretty sure you don’t even need to shave.”

He’s teasing her now, and she forces herself to smile in return- he’s only trying to cheer her, she knows. “Mostly correct. We didn’t have unlimited hot water on Rishi- and yes, when I started as a new agent I blew my entire aesthetics budget on electrolysis. Made undercover work quite a bit easier without having to worry about the carpets matching the draperies.”

She can tell he gets it when he starts to laugh. “So that is your natural hair color. But seriously, you got an aesthetics budget? That’s not even a little bit fair. I had to buy my own blasters.”

“The official suggestion was rhinoplasty. But I rather like my nose.”

“So do I.” Pushing his shirtsleeves up to elbow height, he reaches forward into the spray of water and taps his finger lightly to the tip of her nose; she scrunches her face up at his touch. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll use the shower in crew quarters.”

Theron starts to go before she answers and she nearly lets him, but no- if he stays, if she can see him, talk to him, maybe his presences will be proof enough to settle her restless free-floating brain. He only gets halfway out of the ‘fresher before she calls out.

“Don’t go. I mean-” she says when he turns around, pausing mid-step-  “there’s more than enough room for two here, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Do you promise not to hog the water?”

“I promise.”

A minute later his clothes are in a heap on the floor and they’re both wedged into the little shower cubicle- there wasn’t really room enough for two at all, of course, and they both knew it; her quarters were well-appointed as ships go, but no refresher on any ship was ever built for more than one person- and her back’s to him as he works shampoo into her hair, fingernails scraping lightly over her scalp.

Oh, that’s lovely.

Hair properly lathered, Theron presses the pads of his thumbs into the knots at the base of her skull until the tension releases and she sighs. She tilts her head back, letting the water run over it; his fingers follow the trail of suds down, down, until he gets to the middle of her back where by rights she ought to still have a scar except that in those days she wasn’t allowed scars-  

She shivers.

(She ought to have learned a long time ago that just because the evidence was gone didn’t mean the wounds didn’t linger.)

“Theron?” She turns, grounding herself in the way his hands circle around her waist. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“This is all really happening, right? I’m not still stuck in carbonite, watching Valkorion’s third-rate melodramas play out on the backs of my eyelids?”

He blinks down at her. “I’d argue that personally I’m at worst second-rate melodrama, but clearly I’m missing the point. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t-” she sighs, purging her first thought from her mind as soon as it takes shape. He should know- someone should know about Watcher X, probably, if something happens, but- “Even when I knew I was dreaming, I could never completely tell the difference between the truths he showed me and the lies he fed into my head. I spent five years second-guessing myself, and now- what if all of this, the war, everything, isn’t even real?”

“Nine.” He catches her face between his palms. “You’re not dreaming. You’re not. I promise. And we are going to find a way to get him-” she knows who Theron means, of course, but if she wondered she’d have known by the way he says the word, full of spite even as his lips press gentle on her forehead- “out of your head.”

She closes her eyes. “I want to believe that.”

“People said we’d never get you out of Arcann’s vault, either, and look at us now.”

“True,” she says. “But still. How can I be sure?”

He bites back a huff of amusement, not quite well enough; she can still hear it. She doesn’t blame him- she must sound ridiculous. “Somebody told me once that there are things you just have to take on faith.”

“Imperial, remember?” Eyes still closed, she leans forward into him, lets him bear her up with hands still on her face. “I’m not any good at faith.”

Theron sighs. “Well, then, I’m pretty sure I’m real. Does that convince you at all?”

“Maybe.”

He seems real enough, at least, solid beneath her fingertips as she slides them up his back, inch by inch, until she’s stretched out tiptoe-tall against him and she can feel him smile and his mouth, hotter than the water, brushes across her eyelids, along one cheekbone, and finally settles on hers-

When he nudges her backward she hits the wall and the tiles are cold against her back, as they should be; the water is warm, as it should be, and when he lifts her up her legs wrap around his waist as he presses into her, slowly, slowly and then not (and then not, again and again, her teeth in his shoulder)- and oh, Force, she is anchored by him, if only for that moment.

***

Back on Alderaan, she throws herself into the research.

Three days pass in the lab with too little sleep and too much caf until she sees pipettes and vials and spinning centrifuges in the rare moments when she dozes. Between the four of them- Tee-Seven’s surprisingly handy at chemical mixing for an astromech- they brew ten batches of serum in those three days.

All of them fail, and with every trial Doctor Lokin looks greyer and thinner and the spines protrude further through his skin. He’s confined to the kolto tank, now, between attempts, and as they lift him back into the tank he shakes his head.

“You’ve done enough, Ciph- Commander. A valiant effort, to be sure-” he gasps and she can hear the howl hiding inside his breath- “but enough.”

“Two more vials.” The door slides closed between them. “Two more. It can still work.”

“Then if I might make a suggestion?”

She nods.

“Double the adjuvant.”

***

Double adjuvant doesn’t work, either. Close, close enough that they all hold their breath as his muscles dance beneath his skin, spines receding-

-but no.

“One last try,” he says as the kolto reaches chest height. “Quadruple it. But if we are unsuccessful-”

“I know,” she says, and looks out of the the corner of her eye at Kaliyo, who’s standing with her arms folded and her lips pressed together in a thin line. “We’ll be ready.”

Before he can respond the tank is full; he lifts one hand to his forehead, taps the center with one sharp talon, and mouths his reply. Good girl.

***

The needle sinks home one last time, and they hold their breath, all four of them, as Tee-Seven chimes anxiously and Scritchy whines and curls around one leg of the lab table.

The last of the serum flows out of the syringe; Lokin shifts, pulling restlessly at the restraints that tether his wrists and ankles. Behind him, Kaliyo lowers one hand to her hip, unhooking the retention strap on one blaster (she’s got her own on the counter behind her, just within reach- her rifle won’t be any good at this range, not if it comes to that).

Nothing to do now but wait: a minute passes, then another. She counts the seconds by his ragged breaths as Theron, beside Kaliyo across the table, shakes his head silently.

That’s it, then. After everything, to fail so close to the end- if they hadn’t waited so long, if they’d only found him sooner. If, if, if. Another verse in the lengthening song of things the war destroyed.

And then he gasps, back arching, as one hand grips the edge of the table and Scritchy yelps, high-pitched and piercing. She reaches back behind her for the gun.

“That won’t be necessary.” He sounds like himself again, the growl that’s been a constant presence beneath his voice this last week finally gone; his claws retract, his body shifting, straightening, softening, and when he tries to sit up a fit of harsh coughing racks his body, a froth of blood on his lips.

She forces herself to stand her ground. The last batch lasted a full minute before it failed. If he reverts back again-

Her hand closes around the pistol’s grip, and she waits.

A minute.

Two minutes.

Long enough.

“Get him shipboard, ‘liyo, and then get Doctor Oggurobb on holo. Tell him I’ve found him a new project.”

“I suppose,” Lokin says as she releases the restraints, “this means my retirement is over.”

#inyri writes #equivalent exchange #theron shan/cipher nine #imperial agent #swtor fanfiction

[theblackeagle]

Day 4 - History:

Pairing: Ruspru  Russia/Prussia

The setting is 1953 after the nationwide protests in the GDR in 1953. Pru is the GDR in this fic. Warnings for emotional manipulation. 

He came in battered and bruised, though one large wound wasn’t from the beating he had received, but rather from the people killed at the protests in this year of 1953. 

Although he was in the Volkspolezi, East Germany, who was once known as Prussia, had not taken down and arrested his people as he was commended. Instead he did nothing and had simply been swept up in the crowd. His superiors noticed this and once everything was over carted him off to the government higher-ups who proceeded to take him to Moscow once Russia and his boss were notified.

Hours passed and he was still sitting in the small windowless room with only a few furnishings including two chairs. He was tired and his very soul seemed to ache, but Prussia refused to let his guard  down. Finally, the door opened. It was Russia, though Prussia had been expecting that. The large nation sat down in the chair right in front of the one Prussia was sitting in and sighed, seeming almost disappointed. “Well you certainly look a mess and do you know who’s fault that is?” Prussia spat out blood, though not at Russia, simply at the ground and said, “No fucking kidding, and yeah your-” “Ah,” Russia interrupted. “I believe you are mistaken little DDR. The fault lies with you.” Prussia narrowed his eyes and stared at Russia, feeling rather confused. It didn’t help his head ached and he had been hit several times as well. “What the fuck are you talking about? My people have had enough cause of these new fucked up economic policies. Even my boss said it was a mistake so how is it my fault?”

“They may have said that but we’ve already eased the policies since Stalin’s death and told you and your government to do so as well. In addition that I’ve been one of the few nations to actually consider you worthy of attention and appreciation as a state. Many of the others, especially those in the west, have ignored you or treated you as if one dead, which you clearly aren’t. I helped save you from certain death and secured a place for you in the world. I even approved of your government placing you in the police force and this is the thanks I get? It truly is a pity you’re so ungrateful for all I’ve done for your sake. It almost saddens me.” While there was some truth in Russia’s words they were anything but sincere. Prussia in his slightly addled and already embittered stated didn’t catch this though and was silent. “I mean I guess you have a point but…but a lot of people died? Like..shit I dunno how much. You think I’m gonna take that crap lying down?”

“Isn’t something you brought upon yourself? There was no need for things to escalate to this level, the original demands were met and like ungrateful children once that happened they requested more and more. Even for your government to resign. Do you truly want to be reunified with your  brother? The man who betrayed you. To no longer have a state and a home but to go back to the man who blamed you for Hitler’s rise when it was all of his own doing?” Russia said as he looked Prussia in the eye. Prussia looked away, “He…he’s not my brother and I told you years ago I don’t want shit to do with him. That still stands.” He let out a few hacking coughs once he finished speaking which Russia ignored.

“Besides little DDR, we have evidence of some interference.” “Interference?” Prussia asked, wondering what Russia even meant. Russia sighed again and said, “Your leadership has informed me that while the original agitators and many of those caught up in the protests were your people, the truth is is that they were instigated and exacerbated by western agents. Which honestly does explain how rapidly the protests spread. I’m almost surprised it didn’t make you suspicious, you’re more astute and intelligent than that.” “Western interference? Like..like America?” Prussia asked with some dismay. Russia made a rather disgusted face. “Yes him, who else could it be but that capitalist pig. The situation is clear, from what they’ve told me. While the original policy was extreme they were lessened as requested. Then Western agents and traitors among your people took the instability as an opportunity to continue to destabilize you and cause harm to your people, your state and you. Remember he doesn’t even see you as something that has a right to exist or live. Remember how he wanted you dead along with all the others.”

Prussia was quiet once more, Russia had a point. The protests had spread rapidly, to the point that even he was confused and the demands had risen quickly even after everything had been satisfied. He also knew America did want him gone and had essentially tried to kill him in 1947 along with the other allied powers. Meanwhile, (and he had never forgotten this, even with all the resentments he had), Russia was the only one who had protested the decision and was the only one who was really keeping him alive and seeing him as some kind of legitimate state. Yes it was annoying he wasn’t fully sovereign, but this was better than death. He was alive, his lungs were breathing, and while that was true there was always the promise of a better tomorrow, of things improving for him and his people, and rising up to be a more powerful or at least a acknowledged nation. America did none of this for him, only paying attention and manipulating the man who also aided in his fall.

At the thought of all this Prussia burned with anger and bitterness, however there was also another emotion within him. One that was long suppressed since 1914 but was beginning to bud again ever so slowly. It confused him somewhat but at the same time he found that it oddly wasn’t unwelcome in some aspect. “So what, they did that shit to fuck me up and try to get my government to resign and have me end up dead for good?” Russia nodded, “Exactly. I knew you weren’t stupid and would see reason. It really makes a good deal of sense when one looks at it. The original offers were reasonable and fulfilled, but for it to escalate so fast raised suspicions and they were apparently confirmed. Regrettably  this means you’ll also have to reside here for the time being.” “What? How come?” Prussia asked, feeling rather taken aback. “The first reason is for your own security. Since foreign western agents were able to act and attempt to sabotage you we’ll be forced to keep you here to keep you safe from them. The second,” he added after a pause, “is because even if the entire situation wasn’t your fault some of your people did end up betraying us. Therefore of course you’ll have to be punished in some way. It’s only fair. However,” Russia added once Prussia began frowning, “If you behave and conduct yourself in a reasonable manner you might be released sooner than later.”

“So..not three years like last time I had to stay in your place?” Russia smiled, “Surely not that long, but it is up to you.” Prussia was annoyed, and it showed in his face. “Whatever, just…are you fucking sure that it was Western agents trying to destabilize me?” Russia nodded once more and leaned closer, Prussia didn’t lean away. “That and ungrateful elements in your people. Listen to me, we’ve tried to help you, tried to get you back up on your feet and given you another chance. Meanwhile they’ve wanted you dead, actually tried to kill you, and would of been content to let your corpse rot in the dirt and would of most likely attempted to scrub any trace of your existence off the face of the planet. At least under a new name you have a new chance to make a new start. Why wouldn’t they try to destabilize you in order to cut that short?”

Prussia knew for a fact most of that at least was true. Back in 1947 England’s spearheading of his establishment had been backed by all except for Russia and Russia had pulled him out of the shadows and put him back into the light. Russia had given him life and air to breathe and given him another chance, a chance that others wanted to deny to him, a chance that others still refused to acknowledge. He was so angry too, that they refused to recognize his existence, that they wanted to pretend he was dead and gone for good, just like his land and his people. It enraged him then and did so now too, his heart was still swimming in grief at all these things and beings long gone and unattainable now.

Prussia was so deep in his sea of thought and feelings that he didn’t notice Russia reaching towards him, and by the time he figured out what was happening the other nation had already grabbed his chin with those cold fingers. At that moment there were two emotions co-current in Prussia, one was revulsion and the other was a odd sort of thrill at the seat of his stomach making his heart race and palms sweat. Once more this feeling was half unwelcome and half pleasant. The gesture was innocent however, if intrusive, since Russia merely looked over Prussia’s bloodied lip and blackened eye, as well as the forming bruise under his chin and then let go. Prussia found himself somewhat disappointed, much to his own annoyance.

Russia meanwhile wanted to cut things short and let his words seep into Prussia’s mind. “I reiterate you’re still a mess and your bruises are beginning to swell. I’ll take you to your room and give you something to help with the swelling. The rest shall heal in it’s own time.” Prussia was about to say part of that was because he had just been personally beaten by Soviet agents, but at the same time he was tired and a bed and ice sounded too nice to resist. He was also trying to stubbornly ignore his residual feelings from earlier. Russia did as promised, bringing him to a spartan looking room along with some ice and then left. Prussia lay there wordlessly in the dark, not really caring to think much but rather stewing in his anger and confused emotions as he held the cold ice to his face. He fell asleep like that and ended up waking up with a bag of water on his face in the morning.

The months passed relatively uneventfully. Prussia was given work to do, both hard labor and mindless desk work depending on Russia’s mood, and with some grumbling and complaints in order to be difficult he fulfilled his tasks. In his free time Prussia made sure to keep his distance from the Soviet states in Russia’s house, especially Lithuania. As a result of this he was either alone or spending most of his time with Russia, and given he was attention starved and desperate for some kind of interaction after too much solitude he sometimes even ended up seeking him out. Russia mostly tolerated this, feeling at once both annoyed and amused. In a way it made him feel rather nostalgic as well for times before the  first world war, but he knew as well that such times and ways would never come again. Neither of them were the same either, nor would they ever be. The old Russia of the empire was gone, and the old Prussia was gone too. He was no longer even Prussia anymore and was reduced drastically. Sometimes Russia looked at him and felt a sense of strange pity, what a sad pathetic state he was in. However this was their lives now. Russia had surpassed the empire and he kept telling himself he was all the better for it. Prussia had fallen and now was under his influence, albeit not under his control. Russia intended to take full advantage of this when he could.

The things they did together were mostly mundane, but things they both found they enjoyed. Playing chess, discussing books and current events, walking around the grounds, and playing music. The past was never spoken of, however, it hung amidst them like a solitary ghost, invisible and silent but all too present despite their attempts to ignore it. This was just one of the reasons Prussia felt uneasy in Russia’s company, but there was no one else he could turn to. He was adrift in his very existence and lost amidst the shifting sands of time. So he grasped hold onto whatever he could, and at the moment in this period of his life that was Russia. At least he gave him attention and some semblance of respect.

One evening as they were playing chess, Prussia with black and Russia with white, Russia paused before making his move, looked Prussia in the eye and said, “How long have you been here DDR?” Then he moved his piece. “Prussia quickly made his own move and said, “…Almost a year, why?” Russia made another move, putting Prussia at a rather bad position. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. This made Russia chuckle and then he said, “It’s simply that I was looking at your behavior and the situation back in your home. Things have calmed down somewhat and you’ve made little  trouble. In fact you’ve been diligent and done your share of tasks, even if you’ve been somewhat aggravating and slow.” There was some bite in that, but he was being truthful at least.

“At least I get shit done…but what’s your point.” “My point is, given all these factors my boss has allowed you to go home now. Your time here is up, and in addition to that we’ve decided to make a sincere show of friendship by granting your state full sovereignty and disbanding the Soviet control commission in Berlin.” Prussia’s turn was all but forgotten as he stared dumbfounded at Russia. “Your move,” Russia said. “Yeah yeah, in a minute…but are you serious? Like really seriously serious?” Russia snorted, “ DDR please, of course I am. I could be teasing, but I would of given such a thing away by now. In addition to this,” he paused as Prussia made a rather reckless move. “If after some time things continue in the manner they have once you’re back in Berlin additional things shall be granted to you.” Prussia was filled with curiosity, and despite himself excitement. “…Like what?” “That’s for the future,” Russia said. “Since it depends on what happens. Some are in the air and not fully planned yet as well, we’ll have to see.”

Despite this it sounded promising to Prussia. He was free to finally go back home and not only that but he was his own fully fledged nation, at least to Russia and his allies. The western world of course, continued to deny him his rights and continued to treat him like dirt and this continued to enrage him. As he made another rash move he though angrily of his brother West Germany, of England, and of America as well. All of them were responsible for his hardships in Prussia’s mind. While things with Russia weren’t perfect, and while he both creeper Prussia out and made him feel oddly nice feelings he would rather not feel conned to Russia (which continued to distress him) Russia was the one who kept him alive, who helped him, who now was letting him go on home after he had proved him self and gave him full sovereignty. Perhaps even more would come if the future played out well. Suddenly it seemed to Prussia as if a world of possibilities and chances had opened before his very eyes. He almost felt happy. Yes it was clear to him, Russia respected him, Russia treated him as a equal, and gave him some consideration. That was what he so desperately thirsted after and longed for. “Checkmate” Prussia looked up at Russia’s slightly smiling face. He had won the game

#aphrarepairweek2017 #rusprus #hetalia #aph prussia #aph russia

[missfay49]

Right Time, Wrong Vision - Ch. 1

              “Run.”  Just a whisper spoken into a glass, but it was all she needed.

                Eyes flashing up, a woman smirked at no one.  She chugged her beer, slammed the glass back down on the hardwood, and bolted from the bar, spilling drinks and shoving some well-dressed woman into their date.  She wove through the mass of people, shouts and hands sliding off her back. 

       The door couldn’t be more than thirty feet to her right, but the patrons filled nearly every opening.

                “Hey!  Toni, catch her!”  The bartender called to someone in the crowd.  A broad-shouldered man started her direction, but she was nearly to the door.  She threw a chair down in his path, a ruddy-faced kid still in it.  Shrieks rose as the pair must have tangled up. 

                Still holding a beer of his own, an ill-timed do-gooder stepped in front of the door just as she was about to fly through.  She slid to stop and growled.  His eyes went wide, and mouth clenched as he took in her wild appearance right before she dove between his legs and tumbled out into the night. 

                “Ah!”  He jumped and clutched himself for protection before leaping out the door after her.  A large man was standing a few feet away, staring open-mouthed to the right.  They seemed to have been just about to enter the tavern themselves.  The pair shared stunned looks as the newcomer pointed down the street to the right, seemingly unable to speak.  The dirt road was empty of any fleeing figures.  A few oblivious pedestrians milled about. 

                “Huh.”

                A small crowd had gathered at the door, the only opening out to the street.  The patron could only turn to them and shrug as they all made their way back inside.  The bouncer finally reaching the door with a grunt, hanging onto the frame as he looked around.  Slamming his fist against the wood, he snorted and went back to his post.

  ~~~

              “Officer, she looked insane!  She musta wore dark make-up all around her eyes, she looked like a wild animal or something.  But she was gaunt, gaunt!  People can’t naturally be that sharp looking, can they?  She- like a demon, the way she grinned at me.”  The man and a few other witnesses waited to talk to the city guard who looked nothing short of peeved as he jotted down some notes. 

            “Was she with anyone?  One- Please!  One at a time-”

            At the bar, a woman had nearly finished patting her date’s clothes dry. 

            “I am terribly sorry about that, what a mess!”  She looked up at him through her lashes, a sly smile on her face.  He was sporting a classic, subdued outfit.  He wore dark green tights and grey leather boots.  A cream colored long-sleeved, long-hemmed button-up shirt was held down by an engraved metal belt.  A small brocade purse hung from it.  Topping it all off was a red velvet cape, lined with fleece and hanging off one shoulder.  His shoulder length hair was a dark brown and matched his short mustache. 

            “Tch, don’t think another minute on it, duckling.  A dine and dash, so what else is new?  If that’s what it takes to get your hands on me, I do not mind it.”

            “Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” she cooed.  “Mr. Waters.” 

            “I told you, call me Alex.”

            “Alex,” she said.  Certain she had patted down every portion of his spoiled garments, the two of them sat back down at the bar top.  She dropped the towel on the counter and got back to the task at hand.  “As I was saying, Mary’s House has been struggling to make ends meet of late.  People are not so naturally charitable as they once were, but that doesn’t mean people stop needing help.”

“Of course,” he mumbled, focused more on her lips than her words.

His attention wandered, looking everywhere but her eyes.  She had a rounded chin and her skin was smooth with a light dusting of freckles across pale cheeks.  Large blonde curls framed her face.  She wore a blue square-necked dress embroidered with yellow flowers.  The sleeves were fitted down to her wrists, where they flared out the smallest amount.  The hem brushed the top of her brown slippers.

                “They are the only orphanage in the southeast.  It’s an awful lot of territory to cover for such a small operation.  They do what they can, but it would be just spectacular if you could make a donation.  Your company is one of the most well-known for several cities around.  I had no idea shipping packages could be so… profitable.  How do you do it?”

                He finally looked her in the eye, eyebrows rising just the slightest.  Did he look suspicious?  She smiled that innocent smile she’d practiced in the mirror.

                “Ah.  Pure hard-work and ingenuity, duckling.  Honestly, once you get enough orders it becomes much more profitable.  You’re already going south?  Well, here’s ten more packages going the same direction for the cost of one.”

                “Brilliant.”  Her adoring expression perfectly hid the boredom underneath.  Somewhere, someone heard her prayers.

                “Would you care to join me for a nightcap back at my place?  It’s only just down on Madison, not far from here.” 

                “Oh, Alex, that is kind of you, but it is getting late!  I’ve got to catch a ride early tomorrow morning to Forgedale.  These funds won’t raise themselves.”  She looked for and didn’t quite find the bartender, making an odd gesture while somehow managing to look just past the man into the mirror against the wall.  Alex decided she must have been signaling for the check.  He pushed on.

                “I insist, and we could talk more about this orphanage of yours.”  He grabbed her hands in his, a glint in his eyes threatening something vague and dangerous.

                “No need, darling, I’ll send you a letter next week to follow up.”  She slowly pulled one hand away to pick up her purse. 

                “Just a drink, then?  Sir, another round, extra cherries!” 

                Extra cherries.  So, the bartender’s in on it, too.  She continued to extricate herself. 

“I simply cannot accept any more of your generosity, Alex.  And thank you again for meeting with me at all, it means sso much to the children.  Maybe they’ll be able to buy enough coats this year-” but he interrupted her appeal.

                “Oh, fuck the coats, you’re coming back with me and-”  A table crashed on the other side of the tavern.  Someone shouted, “Non buono spaccone!  Imbroglione!”  A pool ball came flying across the room just past his face.  It collided with bottles behind the bar.  Broken glass and the bartender’s curses dropped as Alex ducked, covering his head.  A brawl erupted between a large human and two elves, furious at being cheated out of their money from the sounds of it. 

When he looked up, his date was gone. 

  ~~~

               An hour later, she opened the double-locked door of her make-shift office to find it was already occupied.  A thin hooded figure sat in one of the two guest chairs; their boots propped up on her desk.  They leaned their head over the back of the chair to give her a relieved grin.

            “Took you long enough!”  The occupant scolded her.  It seemed she had already washed off the make-up that had made her frighten that man back in the bar.  She still had sharp cheekbones, but not so monstrous as the man had thought.  The perfectly natural dark shadows of poor sleeping habits under her eyes were all that remained.  And, of course, the markings she was born with; a thick black line under each eye. It was easy to mistake as cosmetic, but the woman had told her it never came off.  No matter how hard she scrubbed…

Her black wool hood had fallen off with her movement, uncovering wiry brown hair and pointed ears.  She was tan and her eyes were purple.  Her outfit managed to look completely unintentional while also matching.  It was all matte blacks and purple fabrics and dark brown leathers, right down to her strapped boots.  She waved around a letter opener she’d taken off the desk.

“I was starting to worry.”

            “I can see that.  It took only exactly long as it should have.  Leaving a bad date requires timing.”  She strode in, tossing her bag aside and peeling off various pieces of jewelry from her hands and neck.  The woman stayed sitting and watched her drop the illusion, always fascinated.  The many freckles disappeared, leaving just a few scattered around her face at random.  The blonde hair darkened into brown, the curls tightening up.  Even her nail polish vanished.  Why paint them when you can change the color at will?  The dress remained unaltered.  It was one of her favorites.

             Just behind the curls, a handful of scars streaked down from under her left eye to the bottom corner of her jaw.

Sitting down behind the desk, she scrubbed her fingers through her hair, shedding the last of the icky-ness from her interactions back at the bar.  There’s got to be a better word for that, she thought to herself, staring around at the familiar room.  Wooden roof joists spanned the ceiling, cobwebs hanging from the splinters.  The room was too large for an office, converted from an old workroom.  They used up the extra space with a large table covered in papers, a few chairs scattered around.  The silence held as she decompressed, her amusement growing in time with the agitation of her friend. 

            “Well?  Did you get it?”

            “Did I get it,” she scoffed.  “Cassandra, please.  What do take me for?”  She smiled and gave a quick nod towards the table.

            Cassandra’s eyes sparkled and she jumped up to stand over the table.  Sophia joined her, stretching as she walked over more slowly.  Cassandra leaned over the pages Sophia was shuffling through, but her quick grin faltered.  “Did he suspect anything?” 

            “Who, me?  His little duckling?”  Sophia dropped the papers so she could bring both hands to her chest in offense.  “You wound me.” 

            “Oh, please,” Cassandra rolled her eyes.

Sophia just gave her a miniscule curtsy before she looked back at the papers and spotted the one she’d been looking for.  Digging through blueprints and interview notes from the few girls they’d managed to track down, she pulled out a map of the city’s eastern district.  If Waters was telling the truth, he had a place not too far from the bar.  Shouldn’t be hard to track down now.  She remembered the rest of the interaction then, and it was sobering.  Extra cherries.  Sooner or later, all the girls recalled the same seemingly insignificant addition to their drink order.  For most of them, it was the last thing they remembered before waking up in a strange location.  They never considered it relevant information until the clues started to pile up. 

“We need to add that bartender to the list.  He would have drugged me given just a minute more.  I wondered if Waters would frequent active hotspots, and it seems he has no problem showing his face at a venue where people regularly disappear.  Maybe it’s a show of confidence, to keep rivals at bay,” she pondered out loud.  “Maybe arrogance.” 

            Cassandra’s eyes had hardened at mention of the bartender.  Did the shadows on her face flicker, or was that just the lamp light?  She ground her teeth and dragged her nails across the table.  “He will pay for that.”

            “Darling, don’t be so dramatic.  Of course, he will.  But first we’d better get Diane out of jail.  She was perfect tonight, putting up quite the show getting into a barfight with some by-ssstanders.  No doubt they’ll have picked her up by now.  I trust you know what to do?”

            She caught the letter opener Cassandra tossed her and walked it back to her desk.  Cassandra had cocked her head and was giving her a mocking sneer that bared one canine.

            “All you have to do is ask, Sophia.” 

A slow smile spread across Sophia’s face as she leaned across the rough grain of the desk.

            “Then, go.”

  ~~~

                  A shadow exited a dark unmarked warehouse and slipped back towards town.  Diane would be broken out and heading back with her in thirty minutes or less, although they might take a circuitous route if it looked like there was trouble.  Cassandra checked the stars, what few she could see, and made a note of the time. 

                It was a treat to free Diane, as each consecutive time she pulled it off, the officers became more baffled.  Diane never struggled, and always came willingly with them to the station.  But, without fail, she invariably disappeared from their custody and, so far, none of them had figured out how she did it.  It had happened too many times now to blame the rookie guards down in holding.  They’d changed the locks, increased security, set alarms, but nothing worked. 

                Cassandra shoved down the worry that maybe, this time, there would be just one too many guards to get past.  Instead, she looked forward to finding out Diane’s score at pool as they worked out the next step in their plan over a cup of coffee. 

#Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition #Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons #Implied/referenced non-con #cursing #non-graphic violence #writing #sanders sides au #missfay #my writing

[qqueenofhades]

Prompt: Lucy and Wyatt break Flynn out of jail. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxx

Anonymous said: Fic prompt if you’re up for it: Lucy and friends breaking Flynn out of prison and their angsty reunion

The black site is somewhere in the ass-endof the California desert, miles from anywhere, surrounded in a jungle of barbedwire and KEEP OUT signs, a complex of low military buildings designed to blendinto the scrub. You could be a hundred meters away and still have troubleactually seeing it. The GPS went out several miles ago. It is a long dirt roadto nowhere, and as they edge the pickup forward, Wyatt driving, Lucy clenching herknuckles white in the passenger seat, and Rufus typing madly on his laptop inthe back seat, trying to hack into the local intranet and shut things the fuckdown, everyone has one last chance to consider what a terrible idea this is.But they honestly have no other choice.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” Wyatt says under hisbreath as he rolls down the window and scans the stolen badge. At this rate,they have to be successful, orspend the next several years (or decades) in the next cell over. Lucy hasn’tseemed to breathe much since getting back from her mom’s, telling them what shelearned. They thought about going to Denise, about trying to explain to herwhat an awful mistake she made, but Lucy is too angry for it, and doesn’t trusther to understand. Being used as unwitting bait will do that.

And so, here they are. About to bring things around andsteal a time machine in turn, get hold of the Lifeboat and carry it off.Homeland Security isn’t going to help them. Rittenhouse is pissed that they’velopped off a few of its middle-ranking limbs, but the head of this hydra isvery much alive and kicking. They quite literally have no time to waste, and inthe most murderous of all imaginable ironies, there is only one man on theplanet who can help them.

And he, of course, now absolutely hates their guts. And is a prisoner in a secret governmentfacility, accused of the most serious terrorism charges the law can think of(they’re lucky he isn’t in damn Gitmo), and they have thirty minutes tobreak him out. Nobody said this was going to be easy. But this is suicide.

After a nerve-shredding moment, the scanner beeps green andthe gate cycles up. Wyatt lets out a breath and drives through, keepingcarefully out of range of the security cameras poised like gleaming beetle eyesat every entrance and exit. “You said you were jamming them, right?”

“Working on it.” Rufus’ fingers fly over the keys. “Come on.. . come on, you piece of junk…okay. Oh shit, okay. Override is launching. Takes effect in 3…2… and weare on the clock.”

“Just as usual, right?” Wyatt opens the door and jumps out,as the monitor attached to Rufus’ laptop scrolls down from 00:29:59. “Let’s dothis.”

“Yeah,” Rufus mutters. He is not a fan of this plan at all. “Let’srescue Señor Psychopath. Fun.”

Wyatt and Lucy book it through the blind spot to the sidegate, where Wyatt rattles it with his shoulder – even the government might forgetto lock their doors, after all. On finding that it is, he takes out the badgeand scans it again, but this time it wants a fingerprint. He shoots a wild lookback at Rufus, who has to stay in the truck to run hacking HQ, and Rufus raisesa hand – on it. After a few verytense moments, the door beeps again. OVERRIDE ACCEPTED.

“Whatever they pay him, it’s not enough,” Wyatt says underhis breath, as he and Lucy push through and into the dark, mazelike warren ofthe compound. He goes in front of her, gun out, as she’s practically glued tohis back. They’ve managed to send a fake alert to draw the agents normallystationed here off to a fictitious incident in Calabasas, but they’re not evenlikely to get there before they realize something is off. Probably turning thecar around even now. Lucy struggles to draw a breath, to ease the unbearableweight in her chest, the flashing white lights embroidering the edge of her vision.This isn’t going to work. This isn’t goingto work. For one reason, or another.

“Hey,” Wyatt whispers, as they ease around the corner. “Lucy.You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Lucy swallows hard, involuntarily clutching at hisshirt. “Let’s keep moving.”

Wyatt shoots her another look – or at least she thinks hedoes, it’s hard to tell in the gloom – and they forage down a corridor to a holdingpen at the end. Not really much of another word for it. A barren steelinterrogation room and a cell on the far side, a place designed for torture anddeprivation and isolation, for madness. The timer on Wyatt’s wrist reads00:23:51.

“No pressure, Logan,” Wyatt mutters to himself, surveyingthe electronically-locked door, as he pulls out a small black box. Rufus hasgiven him a crash course in using it – it’s like a safe-cracker, basically –but he isn’t here to do it himself, so much like Wyatt attempting to instructRufus how to use a gun, this is something much better suited for the other halfof the brotherhood. Wyatt gingerly puts it against the keypad, waits until itflashes to life, and enters a few sequences of numbers. If he gets this wrong,it’s going to trigger a compound-wide alert.

He doesn’t. There’s a heavy silence, then a click. The doorswings open. Silence. Nothing. No movement. Then a rusty voice comes out of theblackness beyond.

“Just kill me, you cowardly son of a bitch.”

“Believe me,” Wyatt says. “I’d really like to. But I guessit’s your lucky day. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

The silence after that doesn’t even have a word for it.Towering. Impossible. Then, with something almost like a smile in his voice,Garcia Flynn says, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Also later.” Wyatt shoots a shifty glance at his watch. Ittook three of their precious minutes to unlock the door. They’re under twentynow: 00:19:42. “Look, man. I know you’re angry, I know you think Lucy sold youout, but we’ll explain, we – ”

“Ah,” Flynn says. “I see. Idi jebi se.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means go fuck yourself.”

“Jesus!” Wyatt is clearly quickly remembering why he hatesFlynn in the first place, even if he saw a bit of a different side to him inthe cellar in 1954, Flynn’s grief and fragility and rage, finally understoodperhaps why Lucy thinks he can be, he has to be saved. “What, you want to stayhere and have them do God knows what to you?”

“I’m happy to stay if it means you will be joining me.”

“Flynn.” Lucy steps forward convulsively, even as Wyattmakes a grab for her. “Flynn, I…”

Whatever was before, whatever she even thought – it’s not.It’s beyond that.

“Ah,” he breathes. “Lucy.”

“Garcia.” She steadies herself on Wyatt’s arm. “Garcia,listen to me, I didn’t – ”

“Don’t say another word, or I’ll kill you both.”

Wyatt clicks his gun, loud enough for Flynn to hear it. “What,with your bare hands while you’re already in for murder? I don’t think so.”

“What the hell else do I have to lose?” He laughs, bitterand jagged as broken glass, outright insanely, then coughs. The sound of a manwho’s been quite literally shattered inside. They still can’t see him, and afterthat, Lucy almost doesn’t want to. “I think I’d almost even enjoy watching themgo after you!”

Wyatt looks down at his wrist. 00:17:02. Trading insults isnot working. He gives Lucy another glance. Persuadehim. Talk to him. Do something.

Lucy has absolutely no idea. Nothing but the truth.

“Flynn,” she blurts out. “Rittenhouse has the Mothership.”

A very, very longpause. Twenty-three seconds, in fact. 00:16:39.

“What?”

“Rittenhouse has the Mothership. And my mom – my mother – she’s Rittenhouse too. Shealways has been. She’s been lying to me – not just about my father, abouteverything. About everything.” Despiteherself, despite knowing tears will make no difference, about not wanting toshow her weakness now, Lucy’s voice cracks. “I didn’t betray you. I know youdon’t believe that, but I didn’t. I had no idea. And we have to get out ofhere, now. Or it doesn’t matter.”

An even longer pause. They are in the low fifteen-minutesnow. Something is flashing in the corner that wasn’t flashing earlier. It looksas if the systems might be coming online sooner than Rufus planned for. And he’sstill outside, a sitting duck in the pickup. If Humvees of armed shock troopersroll up through the gate, he’s dead.

At last, a specter appears from the shadows. He looks likeactual, literal hell. Dark hair ragged, cheeks unshaven, eyes two pits in hisgaunt face. They’ve clearly been trying all legal and less-than-legal methodsto get him to talk. Even Wyatt, who is the last person in the world to feelsympathy for Flynn, sucks in an involuntary breath. “Jesus,” he says again.

“Like your handiwork?” Flynn grins twistedly. “Good job,huh?”

Lucy is sure she can hear something beeping down thecorridor. It does not sound good. She tugs nervously at Wyatt’s arm, then looksback at Flynn. He doesn’t appear inclined to budge.

She reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her journal.

“I read it,” she says, just above a whisper. “Not much. Idon’t want to know. Just the first few pages. I – well, whenever I do, I – I’mwriting it. For you. To help you. We are – we were – friends. I …” Shedoesn’t want to speak the names, in case they set him off. “Whenever I met you,I helped comfort you. About your wife. And… and your daughter.”

Flynn turns to stone on the spot.

“Come on,” Lucy repeats, half-desperately. “We can’t letRittenhouse get away with this.”

“So your mother’s one too? That just means I have to killboth sides of your family now!” He whirls, enraged. “Why are you even talking tome? Don’t you know I could – I’ll kill you too? That old life is over! It’s notyou! It never was!”

“I don’t believe that.” Lucy holds out a hand as if to awild animal, ignoring Wyatt’s hiss. “And you’re not going to kill me.”

Flynn’s eyes smoke holes through her. Silence, still.

The beeping gets louder.

00:12:56.

And then, all at once, the cell block springs to life.Fluorescent lights come on, sirens start to flash and wail, red strobes basteand blast them, and if Flynn was about to stay just to spite them, at that, hisold reflexes kick in. He decides that whether or not it’s with them, he’s goingto run. Charges full-steam at Wyatt, who jumps out of the way, and down thecorridor, slamming through the doors, as Wyatt and Lucy sprint after him. He isas effective as a rampaging rhinoceros. No wonder this one man thinks he can takedown all of history single-handed, if need be. Fighting is barely the word to describe what he does. It’s primal.

They reach the front of the complex, crash through, and arejust in time to encounter a carload of armed agents squealing through, tiresburning, leaping out, and preparing to open fire. Wyatt unloads first, shovingLucy behind him, as Flynn doesn’t stop, ducks the hail of bullets, reaches thenearest puny mortal, grabs his gun, shoots him in the head, and throws the nextone through the car door. Glass sprays like snow, followed by blood, as one ofthe agents yells, points at the pickup, and starts to run. They can just seeRufus’ face inside, terrified.

Wyatt drops the agent with a shot in the back of the head, evenas he realizes that there are five more of them – no, four, Flynn just gotanother one – and doubtless a full SWAT team on the way. He backs up, stillfiring, and notices that Flynn is closer to the truck than he is. Lucy is abouthalfway between them. To protect her, Wyatt would have to let the rest of theassholes have a clear shot at Rufus, blow up the pickup, and any chance of themgetting out of here.

His eyes lock with Flynn’s for half a second. They stare ateach other.

You son of a bitch, thatlook says. I fucking hate you.

Then all at once, they explode in opposite directions –Flynn toward the truck, dragging Lucy violently by the arm, as Wyatt dives outof the way, rolls, hears his clip thunk as it empties, and snatches up the gunfrom the agent he just killed. Covers their retreat as Flynn and Lucy areclambering into the truck; the windshield is splintered, the sidings pitted, it’staken at least a few hits, God, ifFlynn has indirectly gotten Rufus shot again, Wyatt doesn’t know what he’ll do,but it is very definitely punishable under the law –

He dodges, weaves, and swings behind the tailbed of thetruck, still exchanging fire with the three surviving agents, then gets aroundto the driver’s side, practically rips the door off its hinges, and throwshimself behind the wheel. The engine is already running, and he slams it intogear, shoves the accelerator flat, and jerks down the parking brake, so theyerupt forward like a tsunami. The agents are trying to close the gate.

“HOLD ON!” Wyattbellows, and floors it. There is a horrible crunching and splitting of metal,breaking glass, and Lucy screams. They wrench and ram through and speed downthe dirt road beyond, even as more headlights are coming toward them. Wyattneeds all his attention on driving, as this is about to turn into a car chaseand those only ever go well for heroes in movies, and Rufus isn’t exactly aboutto enter any sharpshooting contests. So –

Flynn crawls into the passenger seat, grabs the rifle fromWyatt, opens the window, and lets loose a merciless barrage into the windshieldof the car as it goes by. It screeches and spins out, Wyatt barely manages tokeep them going straight, and they rocket and veer down the road like a bat outof hell. Shit. Headlights in the rearview. The place is still going off like abomb.

It takes another ten or fifteen minutes at least, Wyatt drivingand Flynn shooting, bullets slamming into the back bumper of the pickup as Rufusand Lucy cower in the back, but they finally put some distance betweenthemselves and the fuzz. Not that they can stop. They’re going to have to drive at least a hundredmiles an hour to get back to the warehouse and the Lifeboat, hope that itsrecalculations for four people hold. Otherwise, well. Yeah. Dead.

A crashing silence falls over the truck. Flynn sinks back inthe seat, looking equally stunned. It takes him a few moments to fully comprehendhis change of fortune. Then he hauls in a ragged breath and runs a hand over hisface. “Yes. Just so you know. I will be killing youall later.”

“Wow.” Rufus sits up slowly, still breathing hard. “So thisis gonna go great.”

#timeless talk #timeless ff #the people have a need #i fulfill the need #captain--kitten #ask