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reverse-t1me · 4 months

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I have a Trolls and mcyt (empires season 1 and the life series (traffic light series my beloved) specifically) AU idea

Now called Water Under the Tree AU

Background information for the AU

Once season 1 of empires smp finished the watchers descended and turned 8 (+Xornoth so 9) of the rulers into deities with the remaining 3 passing on.

These deities after years form their own planets (eg, mcc is its own planet under Scott's rule), and these planets serve as forms of entertainment for the watchers.

The attack

After millennia of this, the watchers grow to want to control the show so they corrupt the once emporers and empresses so they can control what they produce for entertainment.

Pearl and Scott use their knowledge from their respective life series (last life and double life) with them helping their nearest companions.

This leads to Lizzie and Pearl using the double life string to connect to one another giving them a form of immunity through the ocean orb and remaining powers given by winning double life. This also combines their own domains into a new allied domain.

The watchers don't like this and attack. This attack leaves only one of Lizzie's original planets remaining. The watchers attack once again and Lizzie descends into the planet to defend it.

She uses the powers the watchers gave her and the ocean orb to seal the watchers from the world. Then, she uses the ocean orbs' powers to cleanse the world. The watchers, however, use their remaining power to strike the weakened Lizzie and turn her "into one of the creatures she chose to defy us to defend"

This results in Lizzie's form shrinking but also dissolving into water. This water rises and compacts to form an egg.

Not wanting to loose her friend Pearl uses her connection to Lizzie (via the double life string) to manipulate the plant life around her fallen friend and grow a defence. Leaving some sections of the trunk hollow so water will fall down and be around Lizzie.

The creatures of the planet Lizzie defended create tales and murals of this benevolent being.

Slowly, these are abandoned due to migration, these species dying out, etc. Only the story remains as some old fairytale, and every species has a different version.

Closer to present but still the past

The defences that Pearl made turn into a large tree which a category of trolls move into (its the pop tree!).

Once the Bergens capture the pop trolls in the pop tree the pop trolls explore the tree a bit more to look for any escape.

This leads a small team of trolls to the roots where they discover a troll egg surrounded by pink flowers and some puddles of rain water.

This leads (eventually) to Rosiepuff's family adopting the egg.

However the egg hatches after 2 generations (Rosiepuff and her children) have grown up and had their own.

(Some of the trolls theorised this was because it was left alone for however long it was down there)

The trolling that hatches is named "Branch".

Branch has both indigo-blue and pink hair, but due to the image of Brozone, he hides the pink in his hair.

After the past in trolls band together

As Branch grown up without his brothers after the argument he begins to see an "imaginary friend" who wears a dress made of leaves.

This friend disappears a day before the trollstice that takes Grandma Rosiepuff.

The culmination of losing his adoptive family, his caretaker, and his friend in the leaf dress causes Branch to go grey.

Trolls (first movie) changes

•Branch still has some vague colours but hides them from the other trolls

•Branch has found some (2) old murals and has begun to translate the old languages used to write them

•During that party, Branch is instead in the water of a river he found before moving into his bunker to dry off, then Poppy finds him

•When Creek is revealed to be the traitor Branch sees a vague figure with large eyes, a big smile and is red

Why is he so R̸̺̝̃̈́͛̎ȇ̶̩̒ ̴̖̞̌̾̾͝d̴͈͐̔

•Once regaining his true colours, there is some visible pink in his hair

Trolls World Tour Changes

•Branch has found a few small scales around his wrists, ears, and along his spine (fur hides these small scales) along with some minimal webbing around his ears and between his fingers and toes

•The pop trolls have noticed that Branch has changed slightly, and they have spoken to him about it. They just think Branch is growing used to being around other trolls after being isolated for so long

•During the dance off, Branch thinks back to brozone but also making that deal with Scott all those millenia ago

"I've made a deal with destiny"

•Throughout the movie, Branch has some vivid dreams, and he figures out some history and how this history ties in with the murals he has translated (he finds more as he travels to the different tribes)

•Slightly different design for rock zombie Branch (looks a bit more like Poppy and has more coverage with his outfit)

•After the movie Branch gets a tattoo from the rock trolls of a simplified ocean orb

•After the movie he also discovers he can breathe underwater when he goes to visit the Techno tribe to help with reconstruction

Everyone is confused, and now there is a theory that he is some kind of troll that has some techno origins

Trolls Band Together Changes

•Between movies Branch has had more vivid dreams and has translated more murals of the pink haired giant

•Is also wearing a dress to the wedding

This dress is a simpler version of the dress that he remembers wearing as "Lizzie" to "his (her) wedding"

•Goes back to the pop trolls tree before joining John Dory on the journey

Finds a smaller ocean orb and brings it with them

•Poppy tells couple of stories about their adventures to John Dory

Insert shocked and worried John Dory

•Branch accepts Bruce's name change and later tells Poppy about thinking of changing his name to something else

Poppy then prompts Branch to tell her hid new name, slight argument ensues when Branch doesn't tell Poppy

•Slight dialogue change when speaking to the clown, but this doesn't change the encounter too much

•When leaving the putt-putt village Branch falls and rips his dress (yes, he has been wearing a dress throughout this section)

Branch uses his hair and now is wearing a slightly modified dress with leggings underneath (the dress is shorter with the front section being removed)

•Once the argument happens and Branch leaves, it begins to storm (pathetic fallacy)

This moves Branches fur revealing the scales which are now bigger.

Poppy finds this out and just assumes it as another aspect of being a troll that possibly has some techno origins

•When rescuing Floyd, more of Branch's hair turns pink, leaving it as a majority pink with indigo-blue accents

•No Broppy kiss

•After the movie, this is questioned, but nobody can come up with a satisfying conclusive answer as to why it's going on.

•After the movie, Branch tells Poppy about wanting to go by "Lizzie" and Poppy asks why

Insert some plausible reason that makes sense without telling Poppy about the vivid dreams

Post Trolls Band Together

•Multi-tribe city has been established

•Nobody knows exactly what Lizzie is

•Bruce still lives with his wife Brandi, John Dory still travels, Clay has worked to create transportation between the putt-putt village and also does admin work, Floyd is currently living in the multi-tribe city and is learning about different genre's

•Lizzie has discovered that by using the ocean orb, he can grow and shrink back down

Poppy was with him during this and freaked out (positively not negatively) when this happened

•Now Lizzie is trying to figure out what she is and how the murals fit in with this

Also, the "imaginary friend" in the leaf dress returns, causing lots of old emotions to resurface, and Poppy and Lizzie learn about what Lizzie is.

The vivid dreams are revealed, and another argument ensues between Poppy and Lizzie about keeping secrets.

•Pearl warns them of the Watchers returning before dissappearing back into the forest

Lo and behold the watchers come back, and Lizzie using the ocean orb, and her hair is able to fight them off and protect her friends from the watchers

The watchers weaken Lizzie enough to take her, but Lizzie weakens them enough, so hey can't leave this world

•Adventure ensues, with Poppy leading it, trying to find Lizzie

#trolls au #branch trolls #trolls poppy #mcyt #empires ldshadowlady #empires pearl #ocean queen lizzie #empires smp season one #the watchers #the listeners #branch #haven't thought of a name for this au yet #last life #double life #water under the tree au #wutt au

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25centsoda · 3 years

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Star Wars Fanfic - Wisdom Teeth

I just got my wisdom teeth out the other day...you know what that means! Luke too!

I just wrote this in one sitting and there is very minimal editing. If I ever feel like cleaning this up I’ll throw it on AO3 (and possibly make it longer, possibly leave it as-is).

The world filtered up slowly, rising from the smoke of dreams. The first thing Luke was aware of was that there was a blanket on his chest. It was warm, and soft. The room faded into view.

His tired mind dimly registered the fact that the blanket was blue, and the walls were off-white. The lights confused him. They shone blindingly, obscuring much of the space. Between the two of them, the only other thing he could make out were the empty chairs beside him.

Luke drifted.

The world was quiet, as if buried beneath sand. There might have been a memory of being supported on each side as he was led down a hallway, but that could have easily been a dream; the memory was shadowy and indistinct.

He moved his hand slightly. Yes, the blanket was soft.

Words filtered into his consciousness. Murmurs, far away and nonsensical. He couldn’t summon the will or strength to focus on them.

Through the Force, a spike of emotion.

It was quickly washed away by his exhaustion, and Luke’s eyes fluttered closed. His mouth hung open slightly. Something held it open. What was it? Why was it there?

He forced his eyes open again and squinted at the room, trying to bring it into focus.

Medbay, his mind finally supplied. Now he could tell that he was seeing double. Closing one eye or the other turned the two chairs into one. He entertained himself with looking at each part of the curtained-off room in turn. The small table on his other side. The curtain rod. His own covered legs.

A commotion outside in the hall filtered into his awareness. Luke made a small questioning noise he wasn’t sure even left his throat and turned his head slightly towards the sound.

It sounded almost like...blaster shots?

Behind the curtain, a door hissed open. Cold followed like a shadow. Luke closed his eyes against the chill, grateful for the blanket. Loud, rhythmic breathing grated against his ears. He peered up through his eyelashes.

Vader.

Father.

Was this another dream? Luke’s eyes melted closed again.

He was on the verge of falling asleep once more when the sound of flimsy being shifted pulled him back towards consciousness again. He was almost tempted to wave the sound away, annoyed, but his limbs felt like lead. It wasn’t worth the effort. Amusement washed gently over him in the Force.

The flimsy was folded and shifted against something, then the noise stopped. Something carefully stroked his hand through the blanket.

“Come, young one. It is time to go home.”

Luke managed something between a hum and a groan. That amusement came again, along with an undercurrent of love. He peeled open his eyes and squinted up at his father’s insectoid mask.

Vader helped him sit up while Luke stared at him. His mind spun slowly. His father couldn’t really be here, right? The last thing he remembered...the last thing he remembered…

That shadowy image of being helped across a hallway resurfaced. He pushed it away. Before that, there was…

The surgery!

The Empire had been quiet for long enough that the Alliance decided to take the opportunity to get its soldiers and staff medical care while they could afford both the time and expense. Luke had been brought in to get several teeth removed that had grown in sideways. Leia was supposed to be with him when he woke up.

Where was she?

Luke was pulled to his feet and he stumbled, knees weak beneath him. His head rocked with vertigo. Without thinking, he clung to the arm supporting him.

Where was Leia? She was supposed to be here…

He barely noticed the hallways passing under his feet, focus taken up by the effort of staying upright and trying to figure out where Leia could be.

Maybe...maybe he was hallucinating, and what he thought was his father was actually just Leia.

Luke made a noise that was meant to be “Leia?” but all that came out was nonsense. He furrowed his brow when he realized he couldn’t feel his tongue. Or most of his mouth, really.

The person leading him didn’t respond.

Something was wrong.

“Nng,” he managed, tugging his arm away from their grip. They held on tighter as he stumbled, keeping him upright.

“Hush, young one. You’re safe.” A feeling of security washed through him with those words, overpowering the panic that had begun to rise through the fog of sedation. He leaned on their arm for support. “There. We’re nearly to my ship, then you can rest some more.”

Their boots clanged on a ramp. Luke’s socked feet didn’t make a sound.

The next thing he knew, he was being buckled into a seat. In front of him, a viewport showed the mountains of the planet the Rebels had made their latest base on.

The ship vibrated as it took off, and Luke fell back asleep.

-----------------

Vader marveled at the boy sleeping next to him. At long last; his son. He had been most fortunate in finding the boy and his rebellion in such a state. It had been laughably easy to invade the base and take Luke. The Rebels had grown complacent.

As he piloted the shuttle back to the Executor, he puzzled over the sheet of flimsy that had been tied to the end of his son’s medical bed. “Wisdom tooth extraction”, it had read, along with instructions for care once the boy was released from the medbay.

Vader had heard of such a thing - Obi-Wan had told Anakin Skywalker of his own experience with the procedure, but Skywalker never had a need for it. Evidently Vader’s son did. Incompetent as they were, the Rebellion did not waste money and soldiers on unnecessary medical procedures.

Glancing at Luke again, Vader wondered if perhaps he should have paid closer attention to the sheet before leaving with his son. The boy may need supplies the Executor did not have; the surgery was most often performed on humans younger than the majority of his officers, and Star Destroyers were not equipped for most non-injurious surgeries.

No matter. If anything needed to be acquired, he would get it.

First, he had to get his son to the rooms he had prepared.

Although they would evidently need slight modifications as the boy was recovering from surgery…

----------------

When Luke woke again, he was once more covered in a blanket. This time, however, he was also propped up by many pillows on all sides, and there were ice packs on both cheeks.

Where was he?

At his confused hum, his father reappeared beside him. Luke’s eyes widened.

Oh. So it hadn’t been a hallucination, then. His father actually...just kidnapped him out of the medbay.

Kriff.

“Father,” he tried, but he still couldn’t feel his mouth. He huffed in frustration, then winced when doing so pulled at his sore jaw. He mimed writing on his hand, looking at his father through narrowed eyes and hoping that conveyed his frustration.

Vader handed him a datapad and pen.

Luke held the pen above the datapad for a minute, trying to decide what to say. He eventually settled on, What did you do?

“You had a surgery, young one,” Vader said. Before he could finish, Luke started writing again. “I did nothing to you.”

I know I had surgery. Where did you take me? What about the base?

“You are on my flagship, the Executor. The Rebel base was taken by the Empire, although I believe the Princess and Wookie escaped, if you are worried about them.”

No dark side.

Vader inclined his head. “You are in no state to begin your training, I agree. However, there are other things you should be aware of in the meantime. For example, the sheet your medic left indicates that the gauze in your mouth should be changed every 30 minutes, the ice should remain as much as possible without causing damage, and you are not to have solid foods for the next several days.”

Luke looked up at the ceiling in lieu of throwing his head back. Kriff. He thought it would be bad to go through this back on base with his friends; to do it stuck with the Empire? With his father? The man had chopped off his hand during their last meeting; Luke had since come to terms with both the news and the prosthetic, but that didn’t mean he trusted his father with his health.

He cleared the screen and wrote again. I want to see a medic.

“They will not tell you anything different, Luke.”

He underlined the sentence and gave his father a pointed look with as much vitriol as he could muster.

Vader sighed, an odd, staticky sound. “Very well. I will call for him.”

Luke watched with interest as his father picked up a slim remote from a small table next to the bed Luke was propped up in, and pressed a button. A small buzz sounded. Moments later, the door hissed open and a man in a medic’s uniform stepped through, clipboard in hand. He bowed, and approached.

“Commander Skywalker, Medic Kix at your service,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”

Luke reset the screen and wrote, then held up the datapad.

What will my recovery look like? How long will it take?

Kix nodded and said, “This first day, there’s going to be a lot of blood. It should clot by the end of today and over the next few days there should be some swelling. The ice will help keep that down. You’ll need to change the gauze every thirty minutes to help the blood clot and keep you from swallowing too much of it. Take it easy for the next few days; no strenuous exercise. Liquid foods only for today, then tomorrow you can start moving on to soft foods like pudding. We’ll talk more about the day after when we get there. You should be fully healed in two to three weeks, assuming all goes well.”

Two to three weeks??

“Yes sir. As you were not treated by one of our medics, I’m unsure how well the surgery was performed, but rest assured we will do everything we can to ensure your healing is as fast and comfortable as possible. Any other questions?”

Kix waited patiently as Luke wrote.

Can I change my own gauze?

He did not want his father to try to interfere more than strictly necessary.

The medic hesitated. “...Yes, but I would advise that you have somebody help you. If you’d like, I can assign you a medic for the next few days.”

“I can--” Vader started, but Luke interrupted him by holding up the datapad.

Yes, I would like a medic. The writing was rushed - his father could speak faster than Luke could write - but it was legible enough. Thankfully Kix took Luke’s side.

“Very well sir. I will send somebody to assist you.” With that, the medic left.

His father turned back to him. “Would you like access to the holonet, young one? It will be restricted, of course - you wouldn’t be able to contact any Rebels - but you would be able to watch videos.”

Kriff, he really was stuck here with his father for at least the next two weeks, wasn’t he? Couldn’t even eat real food.

He was already exhausted of it all.

Yes, Luke wrote. He handed the datapad to Vader.

At least he’d have plenty of time to hack into the datapad and find a way to contact his friends.

----------

Luke’s mouth finally stopped bleeding by the end of the day. He was so grateful to be rid of the gauze in his mouth that he almost didn’t mind the fact that his father had stayed after the medic left.

He tipped his head back and carefully drank some water, reveling in the fact that he could close his mouth almost all the way now. It was still partially numb, but most of the feeling was back and there was nothing holding it open anymore. He set the cup back down next to the pill bottles on the bedside table, then looked between his father next to the bed and the datapad on the blankets.

He’d wasted the day dozing and watching as many pod, speeder, and spaceship races as he could find, but Vader had stayed away for most of it, only seeming to come in as Luke was falling asleep. What...was he supposed to do now that the man seemed determined to stay?

He stared at his father for a long moment. Vader stared back.

Slowly, as if his father was a watching krayt, he grabbed the datapad and turned the latest speeder race back on, sinking into the fresh ice packs and pillows.

They watched it together, side by side.

#star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #luke skywalker #darth vader #wisdom teeth #lmao yes they are having some very awkward father-son bonding time now #idk entirely what this is I have just been trapped on the couch for two days and my friends finally got me to write a Luke wisdom teeth fic #enjoy!

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 3 years

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New York High Rise {1}

Chapter summary; During all your years as the most successful mob boss of New York, no-one have ever dared to seriously battle for the crown with you. Up until now. Steven Grant Rogers, son of the infamous mob boss Joseph Rogers, has suddenly chosen you as his rival. Who will be winning in the end?

Pairing: Steve x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 1/5

Word; 5.9k

Warnings; swearing is standard in my works, mentions of canon-type violence

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I actually started this series on a whim and all of a sudden ended up having four chapters. I really love it for some reason, maybe because it such a powerplay and I’m a hoe for that trope, especially when it’s a enemies to lovers story. Anyhow, enough of my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy this little mid week update! PSA: If you want to be tagged in the series, jus send me an ask!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Golden chains and champagne. Fancy watches and whiskey on the rocks. Whatever related to the word expensive you were associated with. Although, unlike many others in your business, you hadn't grown up in this world of luxury, nor had you inherited the empire you now were the boss of, enabling you to live the extravagance life you did. No, you were one of the few who'd worked their ass off to earn every last thing you owned.

By most, your efforts looked like a great business mind and some luck. How else could you've become a multi-millionaire on investing in stocks? But to others, those knowing the flipside of the coin, they knew your success in capitals was nothing but a cover for your stealthy work in the shadows. It was a dance, one with feline grace, that you'd performed to reach your position. A status meaning you were one of the most famous mob bosses in New York City.

When hearing mafia, most would think of the old Italian image of people smoking cigars in fedoras, with some moustache that looked similar to pencil lines on their upper lip. Those who owned cities and the whole country knew of it but could do nothing about it.

Perhaps some of these stereotypes suited the older godfathers of New York, who sat proudly on their pedestals and watched the world pass by. But you were different from them. You didn't just watch the world continue and progress by itself. You moved along with it.

You were the new generation.

Compared to the godfathers, who every last person in New York and the bordering states knew off, you had two faces. One you showed the public and one you ruled the underworld with. To society, you were spotless, a name associated with nothing but a sharp mind and benevolence to the public. But you were at the top in the underworld syndicate, the biggest of the biggest. Yet, you didn't rule with fear, simply that of uttermost respect and earned trust. In other words, your reputation or connections weren't bought. They were deserved.

Thus, compared to the older generations, your face could be recognised by a civilian or someone from the underworld, none thinking about calling the police or betraying your trust. You owned the city without it even knowing it.

It was from the way you'd reached this top in stunning silence, together with the grace you played everyone with, that you and your empire earned the alias felines. Like a tiger cub who grew into an adult, your empire was once the smallest but now the biggest. Like a lion, you evoke respect and awe no matter where you went. Like a cat no one cared about, you could cross the streets without an issue in public.

Some of the elders, at least those who were your allies, had expressed their concern of your brassiness. 'Why play cat and mouse with fate?' they often said. But you always answered the same 'I am the cat'. And it was true. Despite some of those opposed to your methods, or just you in general, took the chances they could at picking you off the map. No one ever succeeded. Solely for one reason.

Now, you deemed agreeing to one of your first ever business deals the best choice you ever made. Although it meant you financed some of the worlds leading underground tech corporation with quite some substantial coin, the panthers were nowadays always watching over you. They lingered in the shadows, disarming every try at putting a bullet through your skull.

Albeit not as famous as yourself or the organisation you ran, the Black Panther Operation the sibling pair T'Challa and Shuri operated was, in no shape or form, not impressive. They'd established themselves as the leading organisation, even if not known by half of the people in New York, in the tech area. Not only were they invaluable to the numerous politicians wanting them to work under the radar to get the upper hand on sovereign states, but they also were to you.

They hadn't only supplied you with their physical protection of their elite bodyguards, the Dora Milaje or in common-tongue known as the shadow panthers, but their tech as well. Although, compared to anyone who would've been in your position and chosen the weapons or impenetrable bodysuit that Shuri, ever the genius she was, had invented, you'd chosen one of the other assets. The cloud, the internet.

Hackers were the way forwards compared to warriors. They were the weapon of keeping you one step ahead of anyone by supplying you with the information needed to be able to hold someone's life in your hands.

It was only to look back at the countless occasions anyone tried to persuade you into a business deal you would do nothing but lose at. Thanks to Shuri having dug out the facts that could bring any of your rivals down in the dumps, you'd walked victorious away anyways.

You were certain any of the other godfathers would've killed someone for even thinking, no less trying, to propose a disreputable arrangement with them in the first place. Yet, you knew how much one ever could make a death look like a self-caused accident, that in the end, people would start to wonder why it happened to people of the same background, connected to one and the same empire. However, the former generations didn't really care about bad publicity anyway, so why would they care about lining the street with dead bodies? But the difference was you weren't them.

By all means, some would say your ways was far more torturous than a bullet between the eyes. You wouldn't agree or disagree, only say it was just. Involving a legal and judicial battle was the new way of handling conflicts, after all. It was more efficient than having to wash the blood of your name all the time, according to you. Not only that, you gained a lot more than just a dead body.

You were in somewhat of partnership with most bosses around the city. Those you weren't, rather those you'd only settled a deal with that said "as long as you kept to each of your own territory nothing would happen", did try to bend the rules and use the terror tacit. Either they targeted you personally or something equally as important in your part of the city. It could be anything that would get to you, really. But, no matter what they did, they tried to not do it themselves. Instead, hire a hitman or someone equally as bad. The problem with this was that these people's records were far from innocent, something you used to your advantage.

If you tasked Shuri to find anything and everything these people had done, it was easy to find a person they'd wronged and who sought revenge or justification. The only thing you did was play your hand well, usually meaning you pulled some strings and supply the money. While T'Challa, as the expert he was on it, handed out the information his sister had gathered to reliable sources. Your collaboration made the person you hunted sit opposite someone from their past in a courtroom. Most of the times, they also lost the case.

Choosing to do this rather than go rampage and fire your gun aimlessly meant you settled as a second, or sometimes even third or four-hand source to what went down. So not only did your name remain clear despite answering a rivals offence, your involvement was nearly impossible to track as well. Thus, you could take down five of a rivals' men while they only took one of yours.

Despite one could call you out on hypocrisy, saying that the shadow panthers protecting you didn't own the same benevolence and were quick and silent in their killing, there was one reason you didn't care about the fact. Currently, they may be under a shared command, but their never-ending allegiance was always towards the founders of the Black Panther Operation. If either Shuri or T'Challa said stand back or decided to cut their deal with you, the shadow panther's protection would disappear. The same went if you chose to rip the contract.

However, it was a slim chance that either of the siblings or you would terminate your arrangement. Seeing how now, years later, you still were the sole person working a continuous agreement with them. That was why nowadays, your and theirs organisations were nearly associated as the same by most in the underworld.

Your style of ruling New York and living such different lives in the light and dark made others in your profession joke you were the sole one with an ordinary life. That you were no traditional mafia, simply a highly functioning business-orientated company that invested in stocks. However, both you and everyone around you knew that wasn't true. The reason? You weren't afraid to use every last of your assets to remain in control of your empire. Whatever it took.

And that was a promise someone the last months had put up to the test.

You don't know what set it off, perhaps the old saying of cats and dogs never working well together. Or that because you were at the top drew enough confidence out of someone to try and knock you down. For whatever reason, someone decided to start a ruckus with you.

It had begun small enough you had no idea that someone was behind it. Connections or deals with companies connected to your empire backing out of contracts in the last seconds, saying they got a better offer. The word secrecy, frequently used for ones own safety in the world you lived in, was a term you'd heard enough times by now to grow tired of. It was no significant agreements, seeing how you were well enough to not care about money, but it was plenty bothersome for your pride.

The next step in the escalation had been dealings slightly more important than a question of money, which was your territory and thereby also safety. You still had some meetings with a few godfathers, had fore some time actually. It was mostly those who once had opposed you in the days you weren't a threat or those who just tried to live secludedly enough that they died by natural causes rather than in a cell or from rivalry.

Each of those conferences had been about securing your grip on Manhattan. Primarily to obtain some neighbourhoods closest to Harlem Park and the northern part of the Inwood neighbourhood. Both of which currently was in some sort of grey zone. Meaning neither owned by them nor you. Although those areas were still not written as yours, concerning how those old bosses abruptly didn't seem to want to seal any deals that they weeks ago had agreed on.

Then you'd entered the third stage. The one that made you understand all these cancellations wasn't merely coincidence, but somebody working against you. People from both your closest crew and the Black Panther section had been disappearing. It wasn't uncommon. Your business was nothing but personal feelings and wants most of the times. However, concerning how few men and women you'd lost under your watch, this sudden increase was off-putting.

Closer to the truth was something like this had never happened to this extent before. You hadn't had people close to you or anyone associated with you abducted. However, the worst thing was that the bodies of those disappearing were never not found bloody or in a morgue.

Money or failing to persuade old godfathers wasn't something you took personal, but when people started dropping like flies around you, that you took personally. Hence, you, Shuri and T'Challa worked endlessly on finding who was behind it.

Almost every time, you found the culprit of the act, but not the big boss behind it all. Disabling you from taking more than one person out of play. That your jaw hadn't broken for how much you'd clenched it in frustration, or your teeth shattered from the amount you gritted them was a mystery. You hunted the person ordering these things, yet with no success.

Although one day, when one of the subordinates in your very own team had been missing for a week returned, barely clinging to their consciousness, you'd gotten to know who this new rival of yours was.

Steven Grant Rogers.

The canines, an alias for the Rogers family, were equally known as any of the old US President in the underworld in New York. If one hadn't heard of them in your profession, it was more likely that you already were dead or not in it all because they were notorious.

They'd ruled Brooklyn with an iron fist and was probably the crown specimen of the reputation that accompanied the word mafia. There was a grace in their affairs and killing. But compared to your work, which was performed in shadows and silence, they flaunted it, not scared of running from the police because they already knew they never would be caught.

From what you knew, they'd fallen off somewhat after Joseph Rogers, the head of the Canine Empire, died in one of the rivalries between mobs. His death had been years before you were even born, close to an age it was as high of a chance he could've passed from natural causes. Still, the commotion and continuous dispute following his disappearance and the unclear leadership had served as a fall for the Canine Empire. There was no doubt your rise to the same amount of power as the former union possessed would've been as easy if you'd had them as your opponents.

However, now, it seemed like the past would haunt you down in the form of Joseph Rogers son.

Albeit you never met the new boss of the Canines, there was no doubt you considered, for the first time, to personally put a bullet through someone's head. Steven Grant Rogers was as ruthless as stories told his father had been. He'd even been labelled the golden boy of Brooklyn, rumoured to restore the brutal power of the Canine Empire. Yet, the spot he was reaching for with old alliances regrouping to boost him to the top was a position you currently occupied.

This is where the difference between if you'd had a regular business organisation and the domain you now did, settled in. You went on total offense.

You contacted T'Challa and Shuri, calling them in for a meeting. Even though the pair knew of what had happened so far, they were your partners and thus, you would discuss the actions you would take with them, even if your deal said nothing of that sort. But you knew, compared to your rival, it seemed, how important it was to hold onto your closest allies with other methods than fear and the threat of death. And thus, you also received the help of a friend rather than a business partner.

It must've been the bloodiest month in the last decade from the rivalry that blossomed up between the Felines and Canines the second you started to answer the new top dog's advances. You got reports that the shadow panthers watching your back had cleared more people putting you up as a target than in a long time. As well, did more of the people under your name end up red in back allies.

Then it shifted. As soon as you started getting trails of more people than just the executioners, you were suddenly able to take out divisions of his minions. And while the killing went on, you started winning the big battles. In other words, while Steven continued to play it hard, you started to play smart.

You cut off deals he could do in Brooklyn, much harsher and unforgiving than his initials ones on your side of the East River. It was everything from supplies, to money, to the extra set of eyes. Everything to limit him to sources you knew he wouldn't be happy with having to resort to. While handling this, with the help from Shuri, you also broadened your search to find every little dirty-worker under the mob boss's command. Thanks to those now operating for you on the Brooklyn side, you helped people who'd had a past with Steven's men tip police of and capture them.

Pawn by pawn, you lessened the number of ways the Canine boss could run in taking down your empire. You had him cornered, already several moves ahead of him whatever he chose to do. Only, it was one step you thought he never would do that, in the end, made everything come to a skidding halt.

He'd requested a parley.

"Y'know I don't really like the idea of you meeting him", you didn't look up from the papers you currently were reading to look at Shuri where she lounged on your office's couch.

Though it felt like you should examine the folder that rested in your handbag -the one containing the event plans for the charity event you would host for the many high society individuals and governors, or anyone with money really, in two weeks- those documents weren't the ones you were looking through now.

It was five days ago since Steven had asked for the parlay. Ever since then, you'd worked on the deal you would offer him. You had no desire to sign whatever he would hand to you. And you knew he would propose something. The Canine boss was the challenger, after all. Even more so, the one requesting a meeting from the start. Thus, he, for one, would offer something to cease your continuous confrontations and two, he would try to drag you down while elevating himself. That you couldn't have.

"I know", you finally responded when having read the side you were on in the contract you had put together for your rival. "Still, I want to hear what the man has to say so I can stop losing resources, time and people", you turned to the next page as you said this.

There came no response immediately despite that you felt Shuri was looking at you. You'd gotten good at noticing this, someone observing you. Hence, even though the best of the panthers always were safeguarding you somewhere in the crowds, it never hurt to not solely depend on others for your own safety. Because that was what your constantly high attentiveness was for anyways. To always be keen on your surroundings and try to detect someone's move before they did it.

"It's almost interesting to see someone challenge you for the position of being the big boss, Lekati", it wasn't only at the reserved nickname Shuri used that caught your attention. The rest of what she'd said also made you pause mid-turn of the last page, eyes automatically shifting to her.

Now, instead of sprawling across the piece of furniture the women occupied, she sat upright with a smile ghosting her lips. Your eyes narrowed as you noted this.

"Oh, stop imagining using your sharp claws on me".

"I wasn't".

"You're a bad liar when you want to be", the tech mogul pointed out with a finger directed towards you. Your features stayed indifferent despite the fact that her remark had been correct.

"When will your brother be back?" The dark-haired women cocked a brow at your sudden change of topic.

"Any minute, I suppose, why?"

"He's more pleasant to have around while I try to work, less chatty", an incredulous snort left Shuri as she crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch's backside. Her reaction made your stoic facade drop somewhat, causing the side of your mouth to tug upwards. It was an act she caught and couldn't help but shake her head at.

"I never get tired of not knowing whether you're about to send half of the city after me or simply are in a playing mood", your repressed smile bloomed into a fully-fledged one, amused by Shuri's comment.

"Opt for the latter for as long as those couple of hundred thousand dollars are rolling into your account". Averting your eyes from the women you were speaking to, you once again inspected the bunch of papers before you.

Having worked on them for days and ever since this morning re-reading the contract, you knew it was worded to perfection. There were no loopholes nor any unnecessary losses for either part. So, for as long as Steven didn't belong to the old saying of 'it’s hard to learn an old dog to sit', you knew his signature would decorate the last page.

"However, you should worry about the day when the money is missing", you hummed while stacking the papers orderly, putting them back into the same folder they'd been stored since you'd gotten the paper copies of the transcript.

"Would that be my sign to start running?" You looked up again, instantly meeting Shuri's humoured look.

"It would probably be too late", you shrugged nonchalantly, placing the folder you would have to the meeting in your handbag in a swift motion while swivelling your chair to face her, rather than your desk as you'd done previously. As a chuckle was heard from the dark-haired woman, you crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in your seat.

"It's good that I'm your ally and not your foe".

"Good to hear you view yourself as a friend. Was fearing you would switch sides to my challenger's", you mused, arms coming to prop up against your armrest to support your head when you tilted it.

"I never would, even if I knew he had a chance to win", even though feeling somewhat relieved - because this world and one's alliances could change fast, no matter current contracts or friendships- when Shuri said this, you wouldn't show it. Therefore, instead of smiling at her belief that Steven had no chance of beating you at a game you had been the best player at for years, you simply kept observing the woman as she stood from the couch.

The young tech mogul started to make her way closer to you, a slight sheerness in her step that impersonated the glint in her eye. And you understood why for when she opened her mouth to speak.

"But you can't deny it's interesting someone is seriously trying to take you down", you rolled your eyes while you let your hand fall to tap against your thigh.

"Seems like you're more excited about it than me", you started, spinning your chair slowly to follow Shuri as she settled partly on the empty edge of your desk. She looked expectantly at you, waiting for an answer despite your deflection of it initially. For once, purely because of the topic, you complied. "But no, I definitely do not find it interesting", you sighed out.

"Oh, come on, Lekati...".

"Stop with the nickname", you cut her off with a roll of your eyes. However, instead of earning the quick nod of confirmation to follow your exasperated order, the dark-haired women grinned. Perhaps if it was anyone else than Shuri, you would've been irritated and sent them out of your office, but concerning you viewed her more as a friend than a simple job partner, you did neither when her teasing continued.

"Has the dog really gotten that much under your skin?" She chuckled. "Must be the first one... ever. Or correct me if I'm wrong?" You simply dropped your head and shook it. The young women were right and she knew she was. Steven was the sole one able to make you nearly lose your footing ever since claiming the crown of the underworld.

"Why couldn't he just stay put?" You mumbled under your breath, thumb smoothing out the wrinkles having settled between your brows. "We'd never heard of him before. Why decide to make himself known now all of a sudden? After years of silence?"

"Some men seek the satisfaction of bringing entities down, especially if they ruled it before and now it's overtaken by a woman", you looked up at Shuri. But instead of meeting her gaze, your eyes fell to the piece of paper she held up. Evidently, she'd plucked your Cartier pen and a sticky note from the stack always resting on your desk and written three letters on the piece of paper while you spoke. You, it stood on it.

"Thank you for the flattery", you replied, reaching forward to snatch the note from her. "But I would've prefered if Rogers hadn't, would spare me the task of crushing his ego", the brown-eyed women chuckled at that.

"Maybe he needs to take yours down a step or two too", you stood from your chair as she said this, dropping the slightly crumpled note you'd taken from her into the bin under your desk, then starting to head towards the mirror you had in your office.

"I don't have an ego. I simply know my self-worth".

"Sounds a lot like you're bordering on narcissism", she said in a sing-song voice. "Maybe you and his pride can go on a date. I bet they would rule New York happily ever after", you couldn't suppress a chuckle at Shuri's words, whether you wanted to show how absolutely hilariously unbelievable it was or not.

"Can't your brother come and save me from your antics?" You muttered, spotting the smile the genius behind you sported in the mirror. It was meant for her to hear, so you weren't shocked when she responded to the banter.

"I actually prefer his absence. The two of you together nearly drown me in the seriousness", Shuri complained dramatically. You amusedly rolled your eyes before settling to look at your chosen attire.

Compared to how far away you stood from tradition in the godfather's senses, it was one custom you fulfilled like the rest of them. You believed that the clothes made the man. And, for a meeting like the one you soon would go to, you didn't hesitate to strive for that effect.

You knew Steven was old fashioned. Everything he did cried it. So, of course, you would try to throw him off at every point you could. The skirt and dress were switched out for a suit, midnight black. It was a loose fit and probably matched the high-end fashion more than traditional meeting standards, but you didn't genuinely worry. You were here to show you are the new generation and wouldn't budge because you were the sole women in New York running a syndicate. Doing the best job at it as well.

However, if the man you would meet would frown upon women in a suit, the lace bodysuit, black as well, you wore instead of a dress shirt would probably give him a heart attack. It covered enough but were in no way domesticated and left the upper part of your chest bare. It was a great way to show off the two thin chains of gold decorating your neck.

For some reason, your eyes lingered on the golden metal shining from the light trickling into your office. You started to fiddle with the necklace then, concentrating on how they weren't cold but rather heated up from your body temperature.

You became lost in your own world, fingers splaying over the hollow in your throat to absentmindedly play with the chains there while you thought about the meeting that was rapidly coming closer.

The action, together with the far-away look you stared at your movement in the mirror, was something that caught Shuri's attention.

"Relax", instantly your eyes flickered up to watch her in the mirror's reflective surface as if snapped from a daze. She'd shifted, so she now sat on the front of your desk, head turned in your direction. "It'll go good".

"Wasn't it you who said that you didn't want me to meet him in the first place?" You began to challenge her words of reassurance, hand falling from your skin to instead hang by your side. Not until you'd turned and cocked your brow at her did you continue. "That must insinuate you don't think it will go good", she simply shrugged when you said this.

"I did say I don't like his sudden call for a conference and that you accepted it in the first place", she began, crossing her feet at the ankle and looking down at the movement momentarily before her gaze found yours once more. "But that doesn't mean I don't think it will go good. I know it will. You're good at your job", you smiled at that. You already knew that you worked great under pressure, or else you wouldn't be standing on top of the empire you ruled. Although, it was always comforting to hear it from someone else.

Fittingly, in the next second, a knock on your door echoed in the room, effectively putting an end to your previous conversation with the women perched on your desk.

"Enter", you called without hesitating, as soon as both your and Shuri's attention also turned to the entrance. The guard stationed outside of your room didn't need to inform you of who'd wanted to enter. You already knew it was T'Challa. And as the guard opened the heavy door to your office and held it open for whoever had requested it, indeed it was Shuri's brother stepping through the doorway.

You didn't more than slightly tip your head to acknowledge the guard's nod of respect your way before he closed the door. Primarily because you spotted the slate grey folder the older of the children of T'Chaka held. It was the call about the seemingly insignificant object being completed that had interrupted the earlier discussion you, Shuri and T'Challa had. Your assemblage hadn't been much more than some minor last discussions and to wait for the folder the man now walking through the room held. Thus the portfolio contained a report, the ultimate attempt of finding anything that could aid you in the meeting with Steven.

"Anything good?" You skipped the unnecessary greetings as you gestured to the portfolio in T'Challa's hand while walking closer to your desk, which also was where he was heading.

"Look for yourself", when he said this, the brown-eyed mad held out the folder for you to take. You did but didn't open it until you'd rounded the counter and sat down in your chair again.

You didn't know what you'd expected to meet you, but a photo and a single sheet of paper weren't it.

For a moment, you stared at the picture resting on top of the report underneath it. Presumably, it should've been a photo of Steven sitting in some club. Although it was blurry and had no great exposure, which made it impossible to tell much about his appearance. Still, you knew it was him or else the picture wouldn't be here. However, it did nothing to help you paint a picture of the man which name so far seemed to be faceless.

Putting the picture to the side, you quickly started to eye the document. You scanned it, finding it contained random facts citing what properties the Canine boss had invested in, even owned. Apparently, Steven managed several clubs, which would explain why his first suggestion of a meeting place had been just that. Other than that, he owned some other businesses that wasn't much to cheer for. All infected by alcohol and drugs by the looks and names. Classical.

"This all?" You finally questioned after turning the sheet over, finding the backside blank. When glancing up, you saw T'Challa nodding. You clenched your jaw and looked back down at the paper.

Ever since Steven had asked for an official meeting, between your eyes only, as his message had been clear to state, you'd requested for the siblings to find out whatever they could about him. You wanted the advantage you knew he couldn't get over you. Thus, what was publicly known of you wasn't anything to hide. And frankly, he was more than welcome to read the articles that had written things about you. Yet, every secret of yours, or anything you'd deemed unfitting for anyone to know, had been wiped. No one could ever find something about you that you didn't want on the internet. Though, it seemed you weren't the only one sitting on resources like that.

Albeit the "new mob boss" was discussed in several articles, Steven's name had no face in any of them. In general, there was no picture of him or much information to track him down by either. So, despite your best efforts, now it seemed you didn't have much more than your hunch to go on during the meeting.

"I do not think it's wise to meet him", T'Challa said, much like his sister had earlier. With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair, fingers releasing the paper you'd gripped to pinch the bridge of your nose instead.

"Neither of you wants me to meet him, do you?" At first, silence met you, which made you look up the sibling pair. They shared a glance before Shuri turned slightly to look at you and her brother crossed his arms.

"No", they said simultaneously, which made you huff.

"I may like it as little as you two, but it put a temporary pause to the conflict. And if he comes to accept my terms, maybe that will remain".

"And what if he doesn't?" T'Challa inquired, receiving a frown from his sister, while you simply tilted your head down to look at your watch. "What if he refuses to tuck tail?" He continued to push.

"He won't", you stated, rising up from your chair, handbag now in your grip. It was three minutes until your driver would be here, so you needed to start heading down to the spot he would pick you up in. Yet, you were stopped in your tracks by a hand gripping your upper arm lightly.

"But what if?"

"T'Challa!" Shuri hissed at the unrespectful way her brother insisted on having his questions answered. She'd shot up from where she up until now had remained seated but before she could drag the man staring down at you with insistent eyes away, your raised the hand of your free arm. It stopped the younger women's movement, merely making her watch you and T'Challa.

There was a reason the siblings were able to run their tech operation as smoothly as they did. They complemented each other. What one lacked, the other possessed. For example, Shuri may own the belief everything was possible, then naturally, her brother would be more cautious. As in this instance. Hence, you didn't take any great offence to the dark-haired man's action, despite that your aloof tone could imply such a thing.

"What if he doesn't accept my deal after having me listen to whatever godawful settlement he offers me? Then I've kept my promise on meeting him for the parley he requested and one, which in the end, unfortunately, didn't establish an accord. Henceforth, our war will continue", you said, instantly feeling how T'Challa's hand fell from holding you back. Yet, you didn't pursue your track to the pick up you already was late for. Not until you assured him of one last thing.

"Let me remind you that he was the one that asked me for a meeting, not the other way around. He asked me for a temporary truce and a chance to negotiate. In the end, that shows who's the most desperate to settle an agreement, no matter the terms".

Translation:

Lekati = Kitten

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ficsnooneaskedfor · 2 years

Text

Call the Twi'lek Midwife

Chapter 30: Light and Darkness

Word count: 3k

Series rating: M

Chapter summary: Citali continues her dream conversation with her mother. Ahsoka and the clones break into the facility, experiencing strange feelings, both good and bad as they do.

TW: None that I can think of.

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"I just want them home safe with Tech, Omega, Melita, Marina and..." Citali paused, almost feeling selfish to admit it. "And me." Her mother cradled Citali in her arms, rocking her back and forth. "I'm afraid of how much it will hurt if I lose them." She was still crying but the pain in her soul was slowly starting to subside as she felt her mother holding her. It mattered not to her that this was a dream.

Her mother looked at her with empathy. "Sooner or later, we all must say goodbye to those we love. Pain and grief are as much a part of life as joy and love. Like rain and sunshine. Not that it makes it any easier."

It was a lesson that life had tried to teach Citali long ago. A lesson she hadn't fully accepted until she'd performed the war ritual. Citali stopped crying and dried her tears, feeling cleansed. "It's not only that I fear the pain of losing them. I want them to live out their lives in peace. To choose their own paths for once. Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo had a taste of freedom, and I'm afraid it's going to be taken from them now."

"Oh my sweet girl," her mother said. "They will choose their own path. As will your other friends," A strange bird with a long tail let out a call and started circling above them. It seemed like a great light radiated from within it that Citali could feel but not see. "But peace," her mother said as she gazed longingly at the bird with her piercing blue eyes before looking at Citali again. "That I'm afraid will be more difficult to grasp. Not just for them, but for you as well. There is a darkness that has fallen over the entire galaxy. I know you've sensed it, like a faint whisper in the distance."

Her mother was right. Ever since the day the war ended, a time that should have brought her joy and hope for a better future, there was a vague feeling of doom that seemed to follow Citali wherever she went. It was always there in the back of her mind, even during the happiest of moments, as if barely hidden by a sheer curtain. It was impossible to explain but she knew her mother understood. The rise of the Empire and the massacre of the Jedi had made her uneasy, no matter the justifications for it. Her mother and father told her stories as a child of the Jedi and their extraordinary powers. Citali used to imagine what it would be like to be a Jedi: to go on grand adventures around the galaxy, to explore new worlds, to have the rare powers they possessed, and use them to help people. It wasn't until the Clone War began that she had begun to see the contradictions of the Jedi Order. They may have dedicated their lives to "peace and justice" yet that didn't stop them from allowing the Republic to force the clones (who had no rights, freedom, or even pay) to fight the Republic's war. Even so, Citali did enjoy listening to Echo's stories about the individual Jedi he'd known during the war. There were many he spoke of. Most often he told her about Jedi by the names of Shaak Ti, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, but she felt a particular fondness for one called Anakin Skywalker. He had helped rescue Echo from Skako Minor, and she would be forever grateful to him for it. They sounded so good and noble, it hurt her heart to know they were all gone. Even before Echo shared these stories and told her about Order 66 and the inhibitor chips, she had a hard time believing that the Jedi Order (despite all its faults) would have betrayed the Republic in the way Emperor Palpatine said they did.

She remembered watching the Emperor's speech on the HoloNews when the war ended and the Jedi Order was accused of treason. Citali felt nauseated watching him, and it had nothing to do with his newly disfigured face. Citali felt it again now on top of this unknown mountain and she looked to the horizon to see unnatural-looking clouds as black as obsidian, growing larger and getting closer. A strange bolt of lightning struck a tall tree and it caught fire, the flames quickly spreading to surrounding ones. Citali wanted to stop the storm. She knew the loss and destruction it would cause, that it had already caused as it swept across the land, but she didn't have the power to stop such an evil force. That was a role for someone else, not her. But surely there must be something she could do to help, however small.

"What can I do Mom?" Citali asked like a small child in need of guidance.

"You're already doing it, sweetheart," her mother said smiling. "Healing people. There is power in what you do, you will come to understand it in time. You are not a general, or a queen, or a Jedi, but that does not mean your role in the great story of the universe is any less significant. And while this mission is perilous and difficult, the journey for Echo and his brothers does not end here." Her mother spoke with such sincerity that Citali wanted to believe her, but she reminded herself this was just a dream. A vivid, terrifying yet comforting dream, but all of this was in her mind.

"They too have a part to play, as does Omega, Tech, Melita, Marina, even Cid." Her mother put her hands on Citali's cheeks wiping away her lingering tears, smiling at her the way a mother does looking at their newborn child for the first time. Like Citali was the most precious thing in the universe to her. "And you...my brave, kindhearted, wonderful daughter...will help them all discover what that is. Just as they will help you find yours."

Even with the ropes and pulleys Ahsoka had set up for them over the past few days, this climb was going to be dangerous. Wrecker was fiddling with the bracelet on his wrist nervously, trying to distract himself from his fear by wondering what Melita and the baby were doing right now. Were they sleeping peacefully? Was Melita sick with worry about him and the others? Was Marina missing him? Wrecker had been a part of her life every day since her birth, did her infant mind think he was gone forever? It had only been two days and he already missed them dearly. Tech, Citali, and Omega too. He just hoped that Crosshair was still alive and all of this wouldn't be in vain.

Everyone put on their harnesses as Ahsoka tested the lines one final time. There was a darkness coming from deep within this mountain Ahsoka could sense that filled her with dread. She'd felt it ever since she arrived on Wayland, the feeling getting stronger the closer she was to the mountain. Touching it was almost unbearable. She kept her feelings to herself. The others were filled with enough fear and doubt, she didn't need to add to their dismay.

"Alright fellas," Rex said as everyone was staring up the mountain. "It's not gonna get any shorter by staring at it."

Ahsoka lead the way as she'd scaled the mountain three times already and found a relatively safe route. Before Gregor followed behind her, he turned to the others and said, "Just remember if you fall, don't scream." He laughed involuntarily but everyone knew it wasn't a joke.

They began their trek single file with Wrecker at the very bottom, wanting to keep his feet on the ground until the last possible second. All were in an almost meditative state as they climbed, wondering what fate had in store for them when they reached their destination. They got into a rhythm of climbing for fifteen minutes and resting for five. Hours passed like this as Ahsoka and the men grew tired despite their breaks. Whenever she could, Ahsoka used the Force to levitate the men one by one up the mountain, trying to move the process along and help them conserve their energy. As much as she wanted to hoist them all the way up, she too need to conserve her energy and such a feat would drain her. At one point Gregor lost his footing and fell colliding into Rex, then Rex into Hunter. Ahsoka noticed them falling and used the Force to catch them before they took down Echo and Wrecker below them. They all rested a bit longer than usual after this incident, drinking water and eating some of the food Citali and Melita had packed for them, hoping to increase their stamina. Gregor offered some bits of salted meat to Ahsoka, who accepted it gratefully. She hadn't had much to eat since arriving on Wayland.

They all had thoughts of giving up, feeling again like this might have been a mistake but as they rested, gentle feelings of love and hope seemed to wash over them as if coming from very far away. Like ripples from a stone dropped in a lake, creating a big splash at first then fanning out. It gave them strength and courage as they focused on it. The odd feeling wouldn't have been noticeable to the clones if they were not already deep in thought. Ahsoka was the only one that was accustomed to such feelings. Even she found comfort in it though it puzzled her. It was a connection through the Force unlike any she'd felt before: faint and unfocused yet powerful in its simplicity. The darkness in the mountain still unsettled her but this new presence, despite its softness, helped her not to dwell on it. Echo recognized it immediately when he felt it. It was the calming, warm feeling he experienced with Citali. He had felt it when she'd touched his hand in her garden the first time they all visited her house, when they danced at the harvest festival, when he bore his soul to her and she accepted him. He felt it every time he held her, when he heard her sing, when he made her laugh. Echo thought it was simply him being hopelessly in love and missing her, his mind trying to help him cope with the difficult task ahead of him. When they began their climb again, Echo focused on his goal of rescuing Crosshair as the feeling remained ever-present. When he rested he succumbed to it, envisioning Citali's beautiful smile as he embraced her when he returned home.

It took nearly half the night before they arrived near the entrance to the facility. Everyone took a look from the ledge surveying the situation as they recuperated. Wrecker was beyond grateful the climb was now over. Between fear and physical exertion, this was probably the most difficult thing he had ever done, but it would be worth it if they got Crosshair out of there. Bright lights shined on a large landing platform with dozens of ships. The platform was mostly devoid of troopers save a few on patrol duty. Rex informed Wolffe that they had reached the entrance and to be ready.

"So what's the plan from here Commander?" Hunter asked still catching his breath.

Ahsoka looked up as she heard Morai's call and smiled at her as she circled high above them. "When we enter the facility, I'll lead us to the lift that goes to the lab. Use deadly force only if absolutely necessary. We need to keep things quiet. Though most of the scientists and troopers will be off duty, there'll still be plenty at work. Once inside, Echo will hack into an Imperial computer, disable the cannons on the platform, and trigger a drill that will divert most of the troopers on duty to one area of the facility. They do random drills all the time so this won't be out of the ordinary. It should temporarily clear our path. Mostly. When we reach the laboratory entrance, stun the guards. We'll need to do this quickly or a lockdown will be triggered. From there...we'll have to make it up as we go."

Ahsoka lifted her hood over her head as everyone took one more look to make sure the coast was clear and got up on the landing platform. They split into two groups: Ahsoka, Gregor, and Wrecker in one, Rex, Hunter, and Echo in the other. They crouched down low and hid behind the ships on the landing platform when there were soldiers nearby, inching their way to the door. There were two troopers guarding the door but as Clone Troopers and Stormtroopers now usually wore the same armor design, it was hard to tell which the guards were. Ahsoka gave Rex the sign to pause. The young Togruta closed her eyes and stretched out her hand, causing a small crane on the platform to collapse onto a ship and the two guards ran to investigate. Once the path was clear everyone ran into the facility.

Inside was bright and eerily quiet, similar to Kamino before its destruction. Ahsoka lead them down corridors and through doors, having memorized much of the facility's layout from the information Wolffe had provided, as well as her own recon. Hunter sensed a security droid heading their way and redirected them before they were spotted. They found a computer near the lift as Echo made his scomp link appear through the wrist of his cybernetic arm, and inserted it into the socket. The others stood guard above him and Ahsoka, blasters ready. Echo was temporarily overwhelmed by the massive amounts of data entering his mind. It had been a long time since he'd done this and it took a few moments to get acclimated to the sensation again. His eyes moved as if he was reading words on a page. In a way, he was reading just not with his eyes. He looked through files and protocols, his mind and the implant on the back of his head working together to analyze massive amounts of information every second. He disabled the cannons before finding what he was looking for.

"Commander Tano," Echo said quietly in the modulated voice from his helmet. "What type of drill do you want me to trigger exactly?"

"An air raid drill, protocol number 2," she said as everyone but Rex and Gregor looked at her like she'd lost her mind. Even with their helmets on, she could tell that's what they were thinking.

"Forgive me Commander," Hunter said skeptically. "But won't that bring more troopers inside the facility?"

Ahsoka shook her head. "You would think that, but whatever is in this mountain is very valuable to the Empire. The troopers on duty go to the landing platform and the facility's entrance when this type of drill occurs. If there was ever an actual attack here, the Empire's priority is keeping this facility secure. Not protecting the lives of soldiers," she said with a hint of sadness.

Echo, Hunter, and Wrecker still had their doubts, and Rex could tell. "Brothers, we must trust her judgment," Rex said as Ahsoka gave him a small smile.

Echo put his hand on Citali's handprint and envisioned her in his mind. Just thinking about her brought him tranquility and peace. He did as instructed and triggered the drill as an alarm went off throughout the facility and an automated voice came over the intercom system, announcing the drill. They all hid in a utility closet very cramped together, Wrecker lifting Ahsoka up over his shoulder with her permission to make more room, as dozens of troopers ran to exit the facility. When all appeared clear Ahsoka and the men ran onto the lift and went down into the mountain, to the lowest level of the facility. The lower they went, the stronger the evil presence became and Ahsoka had to work hard to keep her mind clear. Though she could no longer sense the comforting feeling she'd felt during her climb, she tried to focus on the memory of it. It was enough.

When the lift stopped everyone's heart began to race with adrenaline. They walked slowly through a long corridor with Ahsoka and Rex leading the way, before turning down another corridor and opening a door. When the door opened what appeared to be three scientists stood in front of them, looking puzzled. Before they could react, Rex, Hunter, and Gregor quickly stunned them. Echo opened a closet door as Rex, Ahsoka, and Gregor removed their comm devices and code cylinders. They had Echo but the code cylinders could potentially come in handy. Wrecker picked up all three and tossed them into the closest. There was no way for them to get out when they came to.

This feels far too easy Hunter thought to himself. He was imagining how close his brother was behind these walls and doors. Almost together again after all this time, yet he couldn't help feeling like it was foolish to hope it would be so simple. They still had no idea what lay waiting for them inside the lab or if Crosshair was even still alive. They continued on until Ahsoka singled they were nearly there. They all stopped at the intersection of two corridors near the lab. Ahsoka peaked around the corner to see how many guards there were. There were six of them, three on each side of the door, about 50 feet in front of them.

Ahsoka faced the men feeling a strong sense of longing and anxiety coming from Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo. They were much more on edge than Rex and Gregor were. She pushed her own worries aside and closed her eyes to meditate for a few moments, focusing on her connection to the Force and drowning out the darkness that surrounded her. When she opened her eyes she gave her companions a small smile. "Ready?" she whispered. They nodded their heads, blasters ready. "Run towards them as fast as you can. Rex and Gregor, I'm going to give you guys a little push. Be ready for it. On three...

One...two..."

Taglist: @justasigh37 @darkangel4121 @arcee-1995 @gjrain20-starwars

Next chapter is when the action will really pick up. Also just wanted to say, if Citali knew what Anakin did during Order 66 she would hate his guts lol. And again sorry for these last few chapters taking so long, but hoping the next one will be posted by Tuesday at the latest.

#the bad batch #bad batch fanfiction #bad batch fanfic #call the twi'lek midwife

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swtorpadawan · 3 years

Text

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.

“My bosses want to know who��s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping , @swtor-writers-guild , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @ask-an-andalite , @a-muirehen , @taraum , @theravenassassin95 , @sleepswithvillains , @blueburds , @sunnysayshello

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val-aquenta · 3 years

Text

Alright sorry if it’s a tiny bit late, but here for the final prompt for Jedi June: Intergalactin therapists.

Here on ao3

On Ryloth, many many years after the Clone Wars had finished, years after the Empire had been brought down, years after even the First Order had fallen and Palpatine had been killed, there was a legend of two warriors. The twi’lek would whisper of their shared strength and intelligence and, most of all, their compassion. One, always with the symbol of gold and dark purple, was an elegant storm. It was said that he had been able to push through an entire battalion of enemy droids without his weapon. The other, always drawn in cream and a light blue was kindness and intelligence. They spoke of how he had saved so many lives by winning battles before spilling a single drop of blood.

More than that, the twi’lek spoke of them together, fitting together and moving in harmony. Their fighting, elegant and effective, matched the other. Where one defended the other would reach out and attack. Two storms, the twi’lek called them, one of righteousness and justice, and the other of shrewd intelligence and compassion. Together they were unstoppable, managing to vanquish the threat against Ryloth and bring peace to a world ravaged by much bloodshed and war.

With the flow of time, it was clear that the story had been twisted this way and that way, the original tale forgotten and turned to myth, but it stemmed from a truth. Mace Windu, compassionate and just, a righteous flame burning in his eyes, had used the Force and his fists to move through an entire battalion of droids. Obi-Wan Kenobi, intelligent and kind, had valued the lives of the twi’lek and the lives of his men more than the supposed glory of a battlefield. The two Jedi turned into legendary beings, living on long after they met their respective demises, one falling from the Senate building with the knowledge that the Order was about to die, the other at the hands of his closest friend, a dying star finally burning out.

****

Felucia, even after the rise and fall of both the empire and the First Order, remained somewhat isolated from the galaxy and galactic politics. The felucians who inhabited the planet remained largely as farmers, living this relatively isolated lifestyle. As such, it allowed stories to spread like the wildfires that sometimes raced across the surface of the planet. One of these stories involved that of a young blue twi’lek, donning traditional twi’lek garments with pride. Her name, long lost and forgotten by almost everyone, had become Alema, the Ryl word for protector as that is what best described her.

She was brave, fearless, strong, and most of all kind. The felucians whispered of her to their children, hoping that the values that the young twi’lek had been raised and had died with would be imparted on them too. They spoke of her battles, a sword of justice at her side as it fought those who sought to destroy and exploit Felucia. They spoke of how she had looked at the felucians and not seen the peaceful farmers as weak and worthless, instead, she had seen their value and their worth.

Indeed, Alema had become something of a cornerstone in felucian life, becoming a spiritual protector of the farmers. They said that if one stopped in the middle of the jungle and focused for long enough, calling for her, she might appear and offer sage advice with a smile. As years continued passing, she became more and more important in their lives and soon it was almost unheard of for a felucian to not hold something that symbolised the young twi’lek. Whether it was a small blue pendant on a necklace or a bracelet, or it was an intricately carved figurine of her, every family held something that honoured their protector. Aayla Secura, long dead and one with the Force, still managed to listen to the worries and woes of the small felucians who had been so kind to her.

****

Shyriiwook, due to the long-lived nature of its speakers hardly ever changed at a rapid rate. Sometimes certain pronunciations were altered and spread over the galaxy, but it often remained unchanged. As such, it was a surprise when an entirely new word was added to the language. The word itself in basic would have looked something like Yoda, but the nature of the Shyriiwook language meant that it sounded a lot more like a roar vaguely resembling the original word. Nevertheless, the new addition had not surprised many wookies but had startled the galaxy at large.

Yoda, the small green being, was well remembered by the old wookies. The wisdom that the creature had brought along with the compassion and even stare remained something that they would whisper to one another when they had little else to talk of during the Empire’s reign. As such, they had eventually begun to substitute the word wisdom with a Shyriiwook version of Yoda. There had been little pushback. The young were already used to the name often when speaking of the small warrior, and they knew of its connotations. The old were happy to honour the small green being who had such a large heart, willing to open it to just about anyone.

Yoda, removed from society and in his self-imposed exile, heard nothing of the tales. He only heard them after his death when Chewbacca, the large wookie still alive from the time of the Clone Wars, used his name when referring to Luke. Leia, who had not had the chance to truly explore her skill as a Jedi, turned in surprise when a quiet joy and thankfulness sprung up around her. Luke turned and zeroed on a point of blank space to Leia’s left. Yoda’s face, wrinkled and old as it might be, still twisted into the softest look Luke had ever seen. The little troll’s ears shifted upwards with delight, and his eyes seemed to twinkle. They remained looking at one another for just a moment before Yoda began to disappear, fading into the background once more.

****

Tatooine had a history with the Jedi that was largely unknown. It was a backwater planet, just clinging onto outer rim territory. Indeed due to the large diversity within the groups of people on Tatooine, many had their own stories to tell. The slaves would whisper tales of Amavikka, the Hutts of their own ancestor’s ruthlessness and drive for power, and the populace would whisper of sarlaccs and the pits that ate and ate and never stopped going. However, one group of people, in particular, one that was largely hated by all three and thus removed from standard society, developed their tales.

The Tuskens spoke of a demon, a slaughterer and a child killer who stopped at nothing to kill an entire tribe. There was a fear that jerked the movements of their speech as they told the tale of what appeared to be a dreadful storm brought to life, one who had swept through a village and massacred all those who inhabited it. A demon with a sword of pure light made to destroy those it feels have wronged it, they said. Golden eyes like the shifting sands, ready to eat up those who are unworthy.

However, they also spoke of another hooded figure, one who seemed to oppose the other entirely. He could speak to Krayt dragons, and make them turn away from a path of destruction. With his hands, water could rise from the sands like it was drawn to his very figure. He too had a sword of light, used once to deflect the bolts of a blaster. The newer tale however was not just a protector of the Tuskens, but also a defender against them. He was never on one side fully, instead doing what he seemed to think was right.

The Tuskens remembered the Anakin Skywalker who had been hurt and then had lashed out terribly. They remembered the burning village that was left, the clean burn wounds slashing across the torso of a young child, another whose head had been relieved. They also remembered Obi-Wan, the strange eccentric man who had seemed so very vulnerable, yet also very strong. The strange wizard removed from society and living his own solitary life at the edges of civilization. They built stories around them, a demon lashing out in anger at them. Another repenting for his sins in a dessert, alone and sad. Imaginary backstories constructed, entirely far from the truth, yet still speaking of a betrayal so large and painful that it ripped them to bits. Not so false, yet not entirely true. Obi-Wan and Anakin, once more reunited in the Force, had time enough to visit the Tuskens every now and then, observing the new life and trying to not hear the stories spoken of them.

****

All across the galaxy, stories of the Jedi turned to legend. On Geonosis, there were tales of a quiet and powerful woman who had stood up to the queen and won. Both a hero and a villain, she was admired for her strength and prowess when taking down the queen, yet the fact that she had gone against the queen, still a symbol of power within their community, was disliked by many. On Florrum the various species of people still spoke of a group of mischievous young spirits who would cause both harm and good. In the front, constantly trying to keep them from causing too much of a ruckus was an older spirit.

All across the galaxy, the Jedi had saved lives, showing the abilities and philosophy that made them Jedi. In doing so, they cemented themselves into stories and myths that showed their skills in battle as well as negotiation, their calm, and oftentimes most of all, their compassion and kindness. Jedi long gone and in the Force, still heard the whispers of them on the lips of others. It was nice, they thought quite often, to be remembered in this way. The Jedi had become these legends, and even with the merging of fact and fiction, the Jedi remained Jedi in these tales. Perhaps not explicitly, but in all the ways that mattered, they did.

#star wars fanfic #fanfic #duna writes #obi wan #mace windu #aayla secura #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #pro jedi #jedi june 2021

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disneydreamlights · 3 years

Text

Edge of Dawn

AO3 | FFN

Summary: Palpatine tells him the plan, Padmé tells him important news.

Anakin feels like he’s drowning in every commitment he has to keep.

[@anidalaweek for Day 5: Alternate Fandom. AU Inspired by Fire Emblem: Three Houses]

A/N: I don't wanna take up a ton of space in this for thank you's and acknowledgements but just would like to give thanks to Meltic, Ash, and Jenelle for being part of the creative process for this one shot. Meltic for basically coming up with the whole AU idea in the first place and Ash and Jenelle for listening to me talk about this and helping edit despite neither of you knowing a thing about SW.

This was posted on AO3 yesterday but because of how I format these posts unfortunately I didn't have the time to get it up on ffn and (as a result) tumblr until today, so whoops, kinda late submission.

“Anakin my boy, I’m delighted that you could take the time out of your schedule to come.” Anakin’s skin crawled as he greeted Palpatine with a hug. It was expected, given that Palpatine had been the one to adopt Anakin after his mother had died, making him the heir to the Empire, but despite that fact, it didn’t make him any more comfortable.

Not after Palptine had revealed his plans for Anakin at the end of the year, of Anakin’s true purpose at the Officer Academy, of the machinations of the Sith that had been building for over a millenia that Anakin would never have a say in whether he should fulfill. “It was the least I could do. How are affairs back home?”

“Things are going smoothly.” Palpatine’s smile was calm as ever, hiding the hidden meaning meant only for Anakin. “You’ve been doing your part?”

Anakin nodded. Despite his desire to be doing anything but, he’d been doing his part. Since the start of his final year Darth Vader, the mysterious Lord of the Sith, had been doing his “best” to incapacitate the other House Leaders. He, of course, wouldn’t do any lasting damage to them, but at least the illusion of playing along was enough to keep Palpatine at bay until he could figure out a way to tell anybody what was happening.

Palpatine’s grin grew wider. “I’m proud of you. Before long, the Sith will rise once more, the Jedi and all their useless preaching that cost your mother her life will be gone.”

“Are we sure we can’t recruit the other students?” Anakin asked, his mind going to Obi-Wan and Padmé. “We could–”

“Anakin, do you truly believe that you could sway the leaders of the Kingdom or the Alliance? They’ve been loyal to the Jedi Order for far too long. It has only ever been the Empire who has been willing to stand against them and their power.” The truth was, he knew he couldn’t. Obi-Wan was well on his way to being a Jedi, even if he was also the future king, and Padmé…

He couldn’t let himself think of her, not now. Not when he couldn’t imagine himself corrupting her light just so he wouldn’t lose her when Palpatine’s plans came to fruition. “You’re right. I’m sorry for stepping out of line.”

“Nonsense, they have been your peers for years. It’s only natural you would feel some... lingering attachment towards them.” There was a certain disdain to Palpatine’s words, implying that Anakin would one day no longer care about his friends in a way that made his blood run cold. “When the time comes, I am sure you will rise above them, and lead our armies to victory.” After a pause, Palpatine started heading towards the door. “I shall leave you to your studies. I’m due for a meeting with Master Yoda. You know it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Anakin nodded, ignoring the fear he felt towards the Sith, and the relief that he was leaving. “Of course, your excellency. Is there anything I need to know for the mission?”

“I believe Darth Vader should be making an appearance soon. Alongside Darth Tyrannus, I believe he has something to do with the disappearance of Knight Billaba.” Palpatine put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I assume you’ll know what to do when the rescue attempt begins.”

“Of course.” Anakin did his best to keep his voice steady. “I’ll be ready.”

“I’m proud of you Anakin. You’ve done well.I know I can leave this operation in your capable hands.” With that Palpatine left, and Anakin let out a sigh of relief. If nothing else, he knew the mission; he could plan how to help the others survive it when the chance came.

While he took a moment to gather his wits and calm down, a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned, surprised to see Padmé standing there with a worried expression on her face. “Ani?”

Just having her near him was enough for Anakin’s fears and worries to melt away, and a small smile formed on his face. “Angel, you have no idea how glad I am to see you.”

“Are you alright?” While she didn’t know a lot of what was going on (or anything, really) Padmé did know that Palpatine had been putting undue pressure on him, more than he could handle. She was his confidant, the love of his life, his everything.

He ignored the fact that if Palpatine had his way he would be betraying her sooner than not, choosing instead to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair. “I will be, it was just another request of his. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I can’t help it if I do, you’re under so much stress lately.” She didn’t pull away, instead opting to bury herself into his chest. “You should tell him to let you have a break, the way he’s working you isn’t right.”

It wasn’t that simple. If it had just been about grades he might’ve gotten away with it, but as it stood that wouldn’t be the case. “I’ll talk to him next time he visits. Or maybe just refuse to see him.” And then he would send Dooku or some other Sith at the academy to get Anakin to do his dirty work.

Still, Padmé wouldn’t know that, and it seemed to alleviate her worries about his sanity for the time being. “You should. It’s our final year at the academy, you don’t need to have more on your plate than you already do.”

Anakin laughed, letting her go. “You’re right. We have all those missions and exams, and we’re figuring out how we’ll keep seeing each other while we’re off ruling opposite ends of the galaxy.”

Padmé placed a gentle kiss to his lips. “We’ll figure it out. Perhaps you can convince the emperor a marriage between the Alliance and the Empire will be beneficial.”

If he thought Padmé would abandon her morals and join him with the Sith he would suggest it without question, but he knew she would never. “Palpatine would never approve. But so long as we can stay together, that’s all that matters to me.”

She was all that mattered to him, but he hesitated, sensing an almost disappointment from Padmé. “What is it? I know a life of romance in the shadows wasn’t what we’d hoped for when our relationship began, but it’s all we’ve ever had.”

“What if I wanted something more from our relationship?” Padmé asked. There was a nervous edge to her voice as she started tracing various patterns in his hand, refusing to look up. “What would you do then?”

“I would do everything in my power to make sure that one day, you could have it.” He smiled. “Your happiness, above all else, is what matters to me.”

“Then…” She took a deep breath, stabilizing her nerves. “Then we may need to start figuring that out.”

Anakin stared at her, confused. “Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

“I’m late. I was worried, so I stopped by the healer’s wing, just to check.” Padmé gave a nervous smile, tentative, but full of hope. “Something wonderful has happened. Ani, I’m pregnant.”

He froze, trying to comprehend what she had said. Padmé was...but...was that possible? They’d taken their relationship farther since the new year had begun, Anakin had wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before he was forced to do something he would forever regret, but she...pregnant?

“Ani? Are you alright? Please, say something.” With his lack of response, Padmé’s nervousness had increased and it snapped Anakin into responding. He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face as he gave her a kiss, slow and full of all the love he could possibly send towards her and the baby.

“You’re...that’s...that’s wonderful.” He sent as much joy as possible her way. “I...I know it’s my fault we have to hide our relationship, but I’ll figure this out, I promise. By the time our baby is born, we won’t be hiding in the shadows anymore. We’ll be married. They’ll spend time with both of their parents. They’ll be happy.”

Padmé held his hand, wrapping her fingers in his. “You promise?”

Anakin nodded. “Of course. I want this more than anything. No matter what happens, I’ll keep you safe. You and the baby.”

He knew he could figure this out, and as he and Padmé left the small classroom, he thought over everything. His duties to the Sith, his part to play as the leader of the Black Convors, and his love for Padmé.

The baby on the way just hastened the time limit, but he could figure this out.

He had to.

#Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin #Padme Amidala #Padme #Palpatine #Anidala #Heather Writes

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rogueonestan · 3 years

Text

wopc - ch 10 - sojourn and sunrises

pairing: the mandalorian x f!reader/ ofc

word count: 5.4k

warnings: some blood mention (minor), more ~soft~

summary: the battle on sorgan left everyone feeling happy. the sense of danger no longer can be felt in the air. that is, until a new threat reveals themselves.

previous part | wopc masterlist | main masterlist | next part

The blinding sun is what wakes you up this morning.

After celebrating the village’s victory against the raiders, both you and Mando both decided to take up the village’s offer of staying here for a while. There’s something about this place that seems like home to the two of you. It’s hard to put into words, but there’s a peace that lingers in the air.

The sunshine greets you every morning and you’ve developed a morning routine of watching the sunrise. Who knew something so simple would bring you so much joy? The light morning breeze and the sound of the birds singing always puts you in a good mood.

You always admire the morning sky alone. Mando always sleeps in. The morning after the celebration occurred, you accidentally woke him up when you tripped over him after insisting he would sleep on the floor while you got the bed. You declined, of course, but his stubbornness never gave up. When he saw that you were beginning to head out of the hut, he asked where you were going, in which you explained you just wanted to get some fresh air.

This morning is no different. The familiar morning breeze keeps you company. The local animals are just waking up as they begin to chatter. The villagers also begin their morning routines by the sound of distant chatter and pots clanging.

“Room for one more?”

Turning your head to the left, you see Mando has gotten up early this morning to join you. A smile appears on your face when you realize this and after scooting to the side, you pat the now empty spot, silently inviting him to join you.

He quickly does and the two of you sit in silence. You glance at the morning sky, but you can’t seem to focus on it. Every morning you always manage to see some sort of figure in the clouds, but today you can’t. All that you can focus on is the feeling of Mando’s thigh brushing up against yours, just like how it did during your ride to the village all those weeks ago.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You comment.

“It is.”

You glance over at your partner when you comment on the beautiful sky, but unlike yours, Mando’s gaze doesn’t leave. He watches how the soft smile on your face has never left. How your lips slightly lift at the corners. How soft your gaze is as you admire the slight movement of the tree branches. How you lift your gaze to watch a bird fly overhead. How close both of your hands are from touching each other.

“Do you like it here?” He asks.

“Yes, it reminds me of the home I had as a child.”

“Before it was taken over by the Empire?”

“Before it was destroyed by them.” You correct him, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a place that resembles so closely to my home.”

“What was it like?”

“Like how it is here: peaceful, undisturbed, secluded. Like here, we too also had a strong sense of community. We all were extremely close with one another.”

“That’s how it was for me too.”

“With the Mandalorians?”

“No, before that.” He answers,

You wait for him to continue but he never does. When you glance from his visor to your lap, you finally notice how close your hands are. You see how his fingers twitch in their spot as they barely move an inch closer to yours. Without saying another word, you take his hand in yours. Whenever you have to talk about a difficult subject, like the rough beginnings of your childhood, having the support of someone else has always helped you talk about it. Maybe it’ll give Mando that same comfort as well.

It’s been such a long time since Mando has talked to someone else about personal matters such as this, especially something as sensitive as the loss of his parents. Nightmares about their deaths plague his mind frequently at night. It’s not easy for him to think about it, let alone talk about them.

“Before the Mandalorians took me in, we lived in a village similar to this one. We didn’t have much but it was home.”

“‘We’?”

“My parents and I. We- we lived in a village like this one. Close knitted, small, tight.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Everyday. At least once a month, the village would throw a small get-together in the center of town just so everyone could catch up. There would be loud music, a large feast. The children would run around and enjoy themselves. The parents would chat with their friends. It was something I always looked forward to as a boy.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“It was. I think you would’ve enjoyed it.”

“By the sound of it, I think I would’ve too.”

“We were preparing for the next gathering when they attacked.”

When the word ‘they’ leaves his lips, he reacts by squeezing your hand harshly. Like before, no words follow after that. Maybe memories from that day enter his mind. Maybe he doesn’t know how to say it.

“My village had something similar to that as well.” You begin, “Instead of a celebration once a month, once a week we would have a gathering in our town square where anyone could join us. Not many guests stayed in our town, but they always joined in whenever the celebration happened. We, too, had loud music and a large feast. The vendors would still have their shops open. Couples would be dancing in the center as others socialized. The children always looked forward to that day of the week.”

Mando asks the same question that you asked earlier, “do you miss it?”

You nod your head, “I would give anything to experience that again. Everyday I would look forward to that night when I was a child. I think the closest thing I’ll ever get to experiencing that again was the celebration we had here after the battle.”

“I think there’s more to come in your future.”

“I don’t know. Maybe a peaceful life isn’t for me anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“A life with war is all I’ve ever known.”

“There’s so much more to life in the galaxy than war and death. It’s about the choices that you make. The relationships you make. The actions that you make last longer than a lifetime. What we’ve done for this village will be told for generations.”

A soft hum escapes from your lips as you ponder Mando’s words. You never thought of it like that before. Ever since your first home was taken from you, war is all you’ve known. You were introduced to the idea of peaceful negotiations at a young age, but violence always won the fight against peace.

“How old were you? When the Mandalorians took you in?”

“Not much older than they are.” He responds as he refers to the children who are just making their way out of their homes, with their parents following shortly after.

As you admire the villagers preparing for another day’s work, you don’t notice how the pad of Mando’s gloved hand runs gently against the upside of your hand, the light squeeze he gives your hand during the silent moment. The feeling of his hand in yours just seems so natural that it feels like it’s something you’ve always done.

“I-“ Mando is cut off by the sudden screams coming from inside the hut. The two of you immediately glance in the direction where it came from in response.

“Hold that thought. I’ll go get him.” You offer as you get up to leave, but not before giving his hand one more squeeze before you depart temporarily.

“Hey there, little guy.” Mando hears as you disappear inside the hut to tend to the baby. With his limited view, a smile is on Mando’s face as he hears both your voice and the baby’s laughs in the background. From where he’s sitting, he can’t see much. All that he can see is your frame bending over to pick up the baby from the crib the village so gracelessly lent you. Your back is towards him and all he can see is a baby blue blanket in your arms as you walk deeper in the hut. Probably to make sure everything with the kid is alright.

Mando doesn’t notice the small figure approaching him. He doesn’t see the plate of food they’re bringing him. The only thing that’s in his line of sight is you. Even an action as small as you wrapping the baby in your arms entices him. You could be doing something as simple as standing around and you would be able to easily get his attention.

Maybe he should check up on you, just to make sure you’re alright. The wound on your foot is long gone by this point, but maybe he should make sure nothing’s wrong.

Mando rises to his feet to check up on you but is interrupted by a light clearing of someone’s throat.

“Good morning.” A light and familiar feminine voice greets him. As he glances at the figure who has approached him, he sees Omera has begun her morning routine of greeting the two of you by bringing breakfast.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.”

Omera carefully places the plate of food on a nearby chair that resides on the porch of the hut. When she notices that only Mando is outside, she asks this outloud.

“Where’s the baby? I made him something that I think he will like.” She says.

“They’re both inside. The kid just woke up right before you arrived.”

“I see,” She hums, “will you let her know that I stopped by?”

“I will.”

“We both made plans for later this afternoon and I wanted to make sure she remembered.”

“She can be quite forgetful at times.” He comments with a slight chuckle.

“Yes, I have some experience with that. She was supposed to help us make lunch one afternoon but she slept through it and completely forgot.”

“That sounds like something she would do.”

Memories from that day flood through Mando’s head. That day only happened about a week after you guys arrived at the village, but you were so determined with making up your negligence that you ended up helping cook a meal that the village swore was the best they had in a long time. The giant grin never left your face that night.

“That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen her in a long time.” Mando says, mainly to himself, but Omera was able to hear it as well.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her upset since the three of you have joined us.”

‘Hopefully it can stay that way for a while.’ He thinks to himself.

Omera’s words are true. Ever since you arrived at the village, a new sense of happiness has taken over your body. Almost like a weight has been lifted in a way- like you’re more free. Mando’s only seen this side of you a handful of times on the Crest. Maybe it’ll become an everyday occurrence. Maybe every morning could begin with the two of you glancing at the clear sky as you reflect on whatever is on your minds. Maybe one day he can tell you about his first family- maybe even what life was like when the Mandalorians took him in all those years.

-and I hope you feel the same way.” Omera says as she brings him back from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said I hope you feel the same way- as she does.” She repeats as the combination of your laughter and the baby’s rings in the air.

“I do. I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for her.”

“She means a lot to you.”

“Yes. She’s been a good friend all of the time I’ve known her.”

“It’s more than that. I see the way that you look at her- how your gaze never leaves even after she’s left, how relaxed you seem whenever you’re around her.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.” She responds as she lightly places a hand on his bicep, softly stroking the cloth material.

To an outsider, this moment may seem intimate, and in a way it is, but not in the way that it actually is. With how close they’ve gotten to each other, a stranger may see this as two lovers conversing, but Omera and Mando both know how wrong that statement would be. It’s not a romantic sentiment that’s being said, but an unspoken understanding. Like Omera knows how much you and Mando truly care for one another- how deep your feelings for each other go.

“I must seem like the biggest fool.” He says as his visor glances down at her.

“Not big enough for her to notice. She’s almost as blind as you.” Omera chuckles as her hand grazes down the length of his arm to encapsulate her hand in his. With their fingers intertwine, a warm feeling doesn’t appear in Mando’s belly, like how it always does whenever your body touches his. When Omera’s hand touches his, he gets a feeling of comfort, warmth, but in a different way that Mando feels when he touches you. After experiencing what he has with you, nothing can ever compare to that feeling that he gets when your hands touch.

“Hey, Mando, what was it that you were going to-“ You’re cut off by the sight you’re greeted with when you exit the hut.

When you peek your head around the corner with the baby in your arms, you expected to find Mando still sitting by your feet, not holding hands with the friendly woman he’s been spending a lot of time with recently. When he’s not around you, he’s always around Omera. He always seems happier around her, more free, like he’s finally able to be his true self. In all of the time you’ve known him, you’ve managed to get him to lower his guard only recently- months after you met. Omera was able to do it within a handful of weeks.

It seems like the woman in front of him has his complete attention, like all of time has stopped for them, because your presence seems to have gone unnoticed by them. Omera has one of her hands on Mando’s cuirass as her other hand is

encapsulated with his hand with the biggest grins being on both of their faces.

Omera is the first one to notice your sudden appearance as her hands leave your partner’s as she acknowledges you by saying your name and giving you the same greeting as she did with Mando.

“Good morning, I brought you guys breakfast.” She says as she refers to the plate of food that’s sitting behind her, “it’s your favorite.”

“Th- that’s very kind. Thank you.” You force the words out of your mouth.

“It’s no trouble at all. Please, let me know if there’s anything that you need before lunch.” She says as she begins to walk away from the three of you, but not before she turns back around, “don’t forget about our plans later!”

As you look at her figure getting smaller and smaller, you see how the smile has never left her face. Her complete focus is on a villager that has managed to catch her attention.

The pit in your stomach stays in its place. It’s not her fault for the way you feel. It’s not her fault that your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach when you saw how close they were to each other.

It’s only taken her a few weeks to make your partner fall head over heels for her while it has taken you nearly half a rotation for you to even make him comfortable enough around you. After a week or so, Mando’s guard was able to be let down when he saw how gentle she was with children, including the green little baby you brought.

It took you almost as long to be comfortable around the Mandalorian as well, so it’s not his fault that he’s unaware of the feelings you hold for him, but it doesn’t make it any easier for you when you see them together. How easily things clicked between the two of them when they met. How much they trusted each other with their problems. How carefree and relaxed they both seem around each other.

“You alright, ruusaan?” Mando asks as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, fine.” You say as you force a tight-lipped smile on your face, “you should probably eat. Who knows what the day will entail.”

“I’ll eat later. You should-“

The baby in your arms suddenly starts squirming. His feet eventually touch the floor as he begins running as he possibly can to the children who have begun playing a game where they run around the grassy area that resides next to the various huts.

“I’ll go after him. Please, eat.” You say as you quickly make your way over to where the baby ran off to.

The only sound in the hut that can be heard is echoing of your knives colliding with the cutting board. Omera had approached you earlier, asking if you would help her prepare lunch for the village and you had said ‘yes.’ You’re not exactly sure what you’re helping prepare, but Omera was right, cooking lunch for the village helps take your mind off of things. She noticed how lost in your thoughts you were and suggested to preoccupy yourself to distract yourself.

When you were by yourself earlier, everything that happened this morning played on repeat in your mind. From the moment you shared with your partner to finding him holding hands with Omera, the knot in your stomach reappeared as you became lost in your thoughts. Maybe you were reading way too into everything. Maybe Mando didn’t see the significance in the conversations you’ve been having lately. Maybe-

“It isn’t what you think.” The sounds of chopping suddenly stops.

“I’m sorry?”

“What you saw earlier between me and Mando, it’s not not what it looked like.”

“He’s happier around you, happier than he ever could be with me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“He seems more at home around you.”

“What we have- it’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s- we have a mutual understanding.”

“Because of the kids.”

“Yes.”

You don’t say anything in response. You know that ever since Mando laid eyes on the child, he had an unspoken connection with him. You also had a connection with the baby, but it was different for Mando. The kid was able to put him on a new path.

“But it’s also more than that.” Omera begins, “it’s like knowing that someone else understands what you’ve gone through.” Her words ring true, “like nothing has to be said in order for you two to understand each other.”

A soft ‘yeah’ leaves your lips as you continue to take in her words. You don’t know if it was intentional or not, but her words describe the relationship the both of you have with Mando.

Unspoken words exchanged between the two of you have always been the type of relationship you’ve had. You thought him opening up to you recently meant that your relationship was heading in a different direction but maybe you were wrong. Maybe he still sees you as his business partner and Omera as someone who he could have a future with, someone who could make him truly happy. If she can, then you know that there’s nothing that you could do about it, no matter how much it aches your heart.

You have to know if she feels the same way.

“Do you love him?”

The first words that leave her mouth breaks your heart, even more if that were possible.

“Yes, I do, but not in that way. I care for him deeply but not in the same way you do.”

“It’s alright if you. He deserves to be happy, to be at peace.”

“He won’t be if you aren’t around.” Your head tilts to the side in confusion, “don’t tell him I told you this, but you’re the only reason why he’s been so happy lately.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating. There must-“

“I’m not. Those were his exact words.”

“Oh.”

“He cares for you deeply. He just, shows it in different ways with different people is all. He shows the way he cares for you in a different way that he cares about me, or the village, or the baby.”

“Doesn’t show it around me.” You mumble underneath your breath.

“He does, you just haven’t caught it yet. Just give him time, he’ll come around, eventually.”

“I must be the biggest fool. I wasn’t even able to catch on.”

“He said that too.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We should probably get back to work. We have a village to feed.”

With that, the silence from before returns. The only sound that can be heard is your knives colliding with the cutting board as you cut the fresh vegetables. Unlike before, preparing food doesn’t help take your mind off of things. Before you didn’t have to worry about your anxieties. Before none of your worrying thoughts crossed your mind. But now, all of your thoughts from this morning and the conversation you just had with Omera can’t seem to leave your mind.

Before, your anxieties were mainly about the possibility of having to go on without your partner, about the possibility of his future staying with the village, but now the thoughts that enter your mind are completely different. You thought Mando had cared for Omera on a much different level, only for her to correct your anxieties. Now, you don’t know what to think. You thought Mando only cared for you as a partner, maybe even a friend, but the conversation you had with Omera tells you otherwise. When she first told you this, your heart soared, but as you reflect, fear strikes in you. Whenever you get close with someone, the galaxy always manages to strip them from you.

Tears brim your eyes without your realization. The piece of food you’re chopping is neglected by you. You were preoccupied reflecting on the time you spent with Mando before arriving on Sorgan and how you could’ve lost him multiple times, from risking his life to rescuing the child on Nevarro to protecting the small town on Banesh. You could’ve lost him when the two of you were separated and you wouldn’t have known. Even though you’ve known him for a short period of time, your life has changed so much ever since you met Mando.

Sudden pain runs through your system. A light gasp leaves your lips when you glance down at your hand, only to find that your finger is covered in blood. The knife that’s in your grasp has a light layer of blood covered on the blade.

“Kriff.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll get you fixed up.” Omera says as she stops her actions as she glances down at your injury. The cut on your finger isn’t bad, not that deep, but blood keeps leaking out.

“I’m fine. We should finish lunch first.”

“I’ll finish lunch later, we need to get you all fixed up first.”

With her arms wrapped around you, Omera slowly begins guiding you out of the hut to get you the help you need.

“-so we were trapped there for the remaining time we were stationed there. It wasn’t ideal, but we made it work.” Cara concludes her story.

While you were occupied with Omera’s presence, Mando was accompanied with Cara’s. The ex-shock trooper was currently recollecting one of her many war stories from over the years. One of the main reasons why the two warriors got on so well was because of their experiences with the war. The two will often recall some memories from over the years and this is no exception. However, when Cara was finishing up her story, something caught Mando’s eye. He saw your slouched figure exiting out of the hut he saw you enter earlier, only now Omera’s arm is around you as the two of you walk through the village.

Mando can vaguely hear Cara’s voice as she asks some sort of question, but he can’t seem to focus on her as his full attention is on you. His mind fears for the worst as he sees your figure get smaller and smaller by the second. Were you hurt? Did something happen to you? Maybe he should check up on you to make sure you’re okay.

Cara notices something’s wrong when Mando’s visor goes from glancing at her to glancing

somewhere else for a long time. His visor doesn’t even move an inch- something else obviously grabbed his attention. When Cara looks in the same direction as him, she finally understands why.

“I’m sure she’s alright. She has Omera by her side.”

“Maybe I should-“ Mando immediately gets up from his comfortable position of leaning against the exterior of the hut to go check up on you, but before he’s able to do so, a little creature attaches itself to his boot. When he glances down, he sees that the green little baby that has entered his life recently has a vice tight grip on the leather of his boot. When he grabs the baby in his arms and holds him like you taught him to all those weeks ago, his chances of finding you are gone when he can no longer see your figure.

“How did you guys even meet?” Cara asks.

“He’s a bounty that we picked up-“

“No, not him, her. You two seem nothing alike. How did you manage to find someone like her?”

“She literally crossed into my life.”

“What do you mean?”

“She threatened to kill me when we first met.”

Today seemed like any other day for Mando. He had just recently returned back to Nevarro to turn in the bounties he had just collected and was waiting for his next job. Greef was currently congratulating Mando for his success and telling him all about a possible bounty. Several fobs have been given out for this individual and no Guild members have been successful in bringing them back. When no one is successful, Greef knows that he can rely on Mando to get the job done.

“This bounty has been giving my hunters a particularly hard time. From what I can tell, they’re easily able to hunt them down, but when they arrive at the given location, the bounty has been able to get out of their graseasily and then makes another escape- that’s where you come in. The person who put a bounty on their head isn’t too pleased with how long it’s taken and-“

Suddenly, a knife is at Mando’s throat.

“What is he doing here?!” A feminine voice from behind Mando asks.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up!” Greef says as he lets out a few chuckles. The knife only gets closer and closer to Mando’s throat, but luckily his layers of clothing gives him more protection to prevent any damage, “I have a job for the two of you.”

Even when the two of you met just moments ago, you’re already able to read each other’s minds by saying, “I work alone.”

Greef chuckles once again, “well, this is a job that I need two of my best hunters on. You two need to work together on this.”

Once again, it’s like you two can read each other’s minds. When you respond with, ‘I’m not working with him,’ Mando responds with, ‘I’m not working with her.’

Greef lets out a sigh as he calls out your name, “please, sit. Let me explain.”

Though hesitantly, you do. You drop the knife from Mando’s throat as you secure it in its rightful place. Mando lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in. He wasn’t afraid of what you were going to do to him, but something about you made him lose his breath. He scoots over to the other side of the seat so that you could join him. You do, but your irritation of the whole situation only reflects in your words.

You’re thigh-to-thigh with him. If either of you were to move an inch away from each other, then a part of your behind would be off of the seat.

“Could you scoot over, Mandalorian? I need my personal space.”

“And special treatment.” He mutters underneath his breath. If you two weren’t so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“What did you just say?!” You ask as you look in the ‘T’ visor that you would get used to seeing on a daily basis one day.

“I think you heard me.” Mando responds.

“Guys, please-“ Greef tries to get your attention but the two of you are already not seeing eye-to-eye even when you just met a minute ago.

“At least I don’t see myself as higher than everyone else.” You snark.

“At least I don’t scream to get attention.”

“You know, I’ve always heard that Mandalorians are cold and ruthless killers and I never believed it, but I think I’m starting to.”

“Guys!” Greef tries to get your attention again.

“You know what, I can’t work underneath these conditions. I’m sorry, but I’m out.”

You get up to leave and hear Mando mutter something underneath his breath while Greef just says your name in a pleading tone.

“If you’re able to catch this bounty, you’ll see a reward bigger than you’ve ever seen before.”

You open your mouth to ask the question that pops up in your mind, but for the third time that day, Mando says the very thought that you think of.

“Why so high?” He asks.

“Besides from my hunters being unsuccessful, I’m assuming the bounty pissed off the wrong people. Can I count on the two of you?”

The bounty doesn’t seem that hard. Mando has already made up his mind but he doesn’t want to force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, even though the pair of you were just at each other’s throats a few seconds ago.

Mando’s visor turns from glancing at Greef to looking at you- the first of many times he will silently ask for your approval of a bounty the two of you would take on.

You don’t look over at Mando. You just huff out a deep breath as you snatch up the bounty puck.

“Fine. Let’s go, partner.”

“We were able to catch the bounty at one point, but there were a few altercations that blew our cover.”

“Let me guess: it was because of her?”

“Yes.”

“She’s always been one to speak whatever is on her mind.”

“Yes.”

“She’s brave, I’ll give her that.”

“She’s always been the one to do what others wouldn’t dare to. No one in the Guild ever talked to me. They were too afraid to. No one would’ve been able to say half of the things she’s said to me. She always says what’s on her mind. It’s one of the things I-“

Mando cuts himself off. His next words were on the tip of his tongue, saying his next words would’ve been so natural, but he can’t say them outloud. Not yet at least. If he ever does speak them, he wants you to hear them first, not Cara.

“You what?”

“Nothing.”

Just like that, the subject is dropped and silence falls between them. The little one wrapped up in Mando’s arms gently grabs at his sleeve as his little fingers point in the direction ahead of them. When Mando’s visor glances in that direction, he sees that Omera has made her way out of one of the huts briefly before making her way back inside.

Cara sees this too because she urges him to go, “Go. I’ll watch over him.”

Mando nods his helmet in appreciation at her as he begins to make his way where he just saw Omera’s figure moments ago.

taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @unstoppableforcce @remmysbounty @ayamenimthiriel @randomness501 @itspauvr @sarahjkl82-blog @mostclevermiss @seninjakitey @altarsw @bookloverfilmoholic @welcometothepedroverse

#hi we're FINALLY getting somewhere #its about damn time am i right #anyways heres some ~soft~ with some angst bc i suck at angst and i wanna try to get better lol #enjoy #wopc #my writing #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader

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billehrman · 3 years

Text

Markets Hate Uncertainty

There are many questions out there today: when will the Delta variant peak; will opening reaccelerate; will shortages end; will supply line issues abate; will inflationary pressures ease; will the Fed begin tapering; will Congress pass an infrastructure bill and raise the debt limit, and when and if will Federal Chairman Powell be reappointed. That’s quite a lot of uncertainty, and there’s more to factor in. The successful investor must formulate an opinion on each. That is why each week, we believe the greatest value we can bring you is to discuss issues and what is happening overseas, to help you develop your investment outlook.

After taking a top-down global economic, financial, and political view, we then take a bottom-up approach analyzing industries/companies searching for the best investment opportunities. Our approach is analytical and systemic. We attempt to take emotion out of the decision as best, which is not easy at times, we can especially if our conclusions point to going against the grain. We invest with a 12 to 24-month time frame while the market is dominated by day traders who rely on charts and momentum, which creates unusual opportunities for us at times. Several long-term investable trends are apparent today, such a digitalization, the cloud, the web, security, EV, going green, 5G, and infrastructure spending, but patience is necessary as the rewards come over a few years, not months, weeks, or days. Do you have the patience to be an investor?

Let’s look at each of these issues, including an update on current economic data points, then formulate a market opinion including a view on interest rates, and finally discuss the sectors we emphasize in our portfolios. We continue to focus on shortages and supply line issues as overcoming them is pivotal to accelerating growth next year and beyond.

The spread of the Delta variant continues to impact global growth. Fortunately, the number of cases here and abroad continues to decline on a 14-day basis, although deaths continue to increase here but are falling abroad. More than 5.83 billion doses have been administered globally across 184 countries at a rate of 30.3 million doses per day. In the U.S., 382 million doses have been given so far at an average rate of 787,751 per day. At this pace, it will take six months to cover 75% of the global population, which should be enough for herd immunity. Studies indicate that a booster shot slashes the rate of covid infections and restores waning immunity. We must vaccinate the unvaccinated, including children. Fortunately, there will be ample supplies of doses available over the foreseeable future to vaccinate the world, including booster shots six months after being vaccinated. We also need to worry about the upcoming flu season. Get your flu shots too. While we are learning to live with COVID, the opening will slowly reaccelerate here and abroad as we move through the fall, which will naturally help the global economy.

We expect no change in Fed policy next week or a proposed time frame for tapering to begin. There are tremendous crosscurrents in the economy from a slowdown in travel and leisure, an increase in unemployment claims, a turndown in high-frequency data, and the end of extra unemployment benefits. On the other hand, we have strong capital spending, higher industrial production, and retail sales. The Fed has a dual mandate: reducing unemployment and controlling inflation. The last employment report was a big disappointment while the rate of change in the CPI slowed in August. The jury is out whether higher inflationary pressures will be transitory. Powell thinks so, as do we. He wants the economy to run hot rather than risk taking the punch bowl away too soon. Also, the Fed knows that their policy will have little impact on shortages and supply line issues. If the economy improves over a few months and employment numbers improve again, we expect the Fed to announce tapering in November and begin by the end of the year or early 2022. We expect them to finish tapering by the fall of 2022 and start hiking the fund's rate by mid-2023 if the data points support the move. Remember that tapering and a negative real funds rate are NOT tightening. Finally, Powell seems to be gaining ground in the Senate for his reappointment as Fed Chairman with bipartisan support. Even Chris Dodd and Barney Frank (remember Dodd-Frank?) support Powell’s renomination.

Biden and his party are pushing hard for their vast $3.5 trillion-dollar social infrastructure bill as well as hiking the debt limit. Highlights of the Ways and Means proposal to pay for the bill include: top capital gains increases to 25% from 20%; maximum corporate rate rises to 26.5% from 21%; increases carried interest holding period to five years from three; cut some estate tax discounts; cuts tax rate for small businesses to 18%; crypto subject to wash rule; and a Medicare surtax on high earners. The package is expected to raise $2 trillion. The Dems are looking for $700 billion in revenue and cost savings from Medicare drug price changes and $600 billion from faster economic growth. Democratic Senator Manchin and other moderates are against this enormous social spending and tax bill, a deal-breaker for the Dems which dooms Biden’s economic agenda. Fortunately, he needs a win as his poll ratings are hitting new lows, so we believe that he will support the $1.2 trillion infrastructure bill, in the end, without tying it to his $3.5 trillion social infrastructure bill. This bill could be on his desk within a month, which would be a pleasant surprise for the market benefitting specific sectors tied to infrastructure.

Recent data points continue to be a mixed bag: industrial production increased by 0.4% in August despite shutdowns caused by Hurricane Ida; wholesale sales increased 2% in July while inventories rose only 0.6%, bringing the I/S ratio to new lows at 1.25; monthly retail sales increased a surprising 0.7% in August and are up over 15% from a year ago; the CPI increased only 0.3% from July and excluding food and energy the core inflation index rose only 0.1%, the smallest gain since February; and finally, the Phili and Empire Manufacturing surveys were robust. On the other side, unemployment claims rose to 332,000, an increase of 20,000 from the previous week; small business optimism fell to 99.7, and the August PPI index rose 0.7% and is up 8.3% year over year while the core PPI increased 0.6% and 6.7% vs. last year. Shortages and supply line issues are continuing to penalize sales and production while increasing inflationary pressures. We do not see improvement for both problems until mid-2022, but by then, we see higher sales/production/margins and lower inflation.

While the outlook for the Eurozone, India, Australia, and Japan have improved, China’s economy has not begun to recover from the outbreak of the Delta variant. ECB President Christine Lagarde said, “unprecedented monetary and fiscal aid and more vaccinations have brought the region to a point where it is recovering more rapidly than anticipated and output should reach pre-pandemic levels before the end of the year.” Most Japanese firms see the economy recovering to pre-pandemic levels in FY2022. The Japanese economy grew by 1.9% in the April-June quarter. India’s economy is expected to expand by over 7% this year and more next year, while Australia could expand close to 4% in both years.

On the other hand, China's outlook has slowed over the last month due to the outbreak of the Delta variant and needs additional monetary and fiscal stimulus to reaccelerate. So far, the government has targeted programs for smaller businesses and pledged additional support using local government bonds. We expect the Bank of China to announce another cut in the reserve requirement soon plus additional stimulus programs to boost consumption, which has been hit far more than production. The financial problems of Evergrande, a huge developer in China, will force the Bank of China to inject trillions into the domestic economy to prevent a Lehman moment. Foolishly, the government continues to release industrial commodities from its inventories, including oil, to put downward pressure on inflation just as global demand increases and supplies are tight.

Investment Conclusions

As indicated by the latest bull/bear ratio, market psychology has turned decidedly bearish, which is interestingly a contra-indicator, meaning that it is an excellent time to be nibbling at the market. It helps that inflows continue at a record pace; corporate deals and buybacks are nearing prior peak levels; dividends are increasing at a record pace; we have record excess liquidity in the trillions; the earnings yield compared to 10-year bond yield has never been wider; operating profits/margins/cash flow are increasing to record levels, and the Fed is our friend. Of course, there are negatives. We are worried about COVID, excessive federal spending, taxes that hurt our global competitiveness and investing in America, the buildup in government debt, excessive speculation, the political climate in America, geopolitical risks, and the power of fringe factions.

We maintain a positive view of the financial markets over the next 12-24 months based on an improving global economy as put the coronavirus in the rear view mirror; shortages and supply line issues abate; record operating profits and cash flow; accommodative fiscal and monetary policies; continued record flows from abroad keeping a lid on our interest rates; and trillions of excess liquidities still in the financial system. The preconditions for a market top are not present, but there can always be corrections like now.

As always, it is where you invest that counts. We maintain a balanced approach between growth, mainly technology and value. We like to invest where the government is our friend, so we own sectors that will benefit from the infrastructure bill, increased capital spending, and higher high-tech defense spending. While we expect the yield curve to slowly steepen, we do not expect the 10-year treasury yield to get much above 1.80% over the next year, which is good for stock valuations.

Markets detest uncertainty, creating opportunities for true investors with a positive longer-term outlook. The key has always been to remain patient, which most can’t do, and always maintain reserves.

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harebrainedscheme · 3 years

Text

Soft Edges, Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Fethry in FOWL AU courtesy of Zara 2148

A03 Link

“That-” Hammerhead exclaimed while delivering a solid, jovial, slap across Steelbeak’s back, “was beautiful!”

Above, starlight gleamed through the smog-filled night sky, providing little light as Steelbeak and Hammerhead made their way through the dark, lampless, city streets. The air was cool and crisp against Steelbeak’s face, keeping his senses sharp, that or the adrenaline high he was still coming down from.

In the distance, the horn of a freight train blared. A dog barked behind a chain link fence. Police sirens-or maybe it was an ambulance- whined before disappearing into the night.

Good ol’ St. Canard. It was just as he remembered.

He hadn’t ventured to this part of the city since he started working under F.O.W.L.’s dollar. Part of their sales pitch was that they’d send him all over the world. That part had been true enough. Though, he guessed it was some kind of poetic justice that he’d end up back in the same seedy streets he had grown up on, back when he was just another street urchin. Only this time, he was walking over them in italian leather oxfords rather than a pair of dirty torn sneakers he snagged off a telephone wire.

The goat to his right, strutting an equally impressive pair of shoes, continued to slap Steelbeak’s back as they walked. Juxtaposed to the merry mood of his companion, Steelbeak felt himself grimace at the touch. He’d much rather trade fists than business cards with this goon but his mission, as Director Buzzard had clearly laid out, was to play nice.

Yesterday had been the weekly briefing meeting. All of F.O.W.L.’s agents, gathered around a long conference table as Director Buzzard droned on about mission status updates, assignments, and whichever phase of his million-step program to steal the world from under McDuck’s bill they were entering. Director Buzzard, Steelbeak had realized, was quite fond of slideshow presentations and the dull droning voice paired with the irregular clicking of the slideshow’s remote faded into white noise. Steelbeak could usually listen with half a mind while his mind wandered to other things.

If Heron’s bionic arm had a toothbrush function, did that mean it came with toothpaste too? Not much use having an emergency toothbrush on hand if you didn’t have the toothpaste to go with it. But did that mean she made her own toothpaste inside the arm? Or did Heron have to restock the supply with toothpaste cartridges?

He was trying to imagine Heron pulling off her arm and unscrewing a panel to fill a trapdoor with toothpaste when the buzzard barked his name, pulling his attention back to the speaker and the screen behind him.

“Steelbeak, you have a new assignment.” The image on the projector screen flicked to a mean looking goat.

“This is Hammerhead Hannigan, henchman to the notorious Taurus Bulba.”

“The crime boss?”

Bradford’s glare fell on Steelbeak at the interruption, but he answered all the same.

“Yes. As a former St. Canard resident, and… participant in some of the underground circuits, I assumed you would have some familiarity with the organized crime world of St. Canard.”

“So what’s the job, you want me to take out horns over there?”

“Just the opposite. Taurus Bulba single handedly constructed an entire crime empire within the underbelly of St. Canard while upholding the public image as the head of a prestigious lab. He maintains certain...resources we may benefit access from. But the man himself is cautious and selective in who he conducts his business dealings with. He rarely meets face to face with potential new partners, sending his underlings in his place. You are to meet with Hammerhead and describe the benefits and services F.O.W.L can offer Bulba. This will be the first of a long line of negotiations that, hopefully, will lead to a mutually beneficial partnership.

“Your job is to meet with his henchman, negotiate over cigars and a game of pool or whatever you St. Canadians enjoy, and establish a good-faith relationship. “

Bradford Buzzard paused to turn up the degrees on his already scathing glare. “That should be simple enough that even you can manage. If you don’t mess up this most basic task then maybe we’ll consider giving you greater responsibilities in future missions. Is that understood?”

Yeah, I can do that,” Steelbeak answered crossing his arms over his chest. Something still wasn’t sitting right.

“But why give this assignment over to me? And why send me in solo instead of partnered with Black Heron? You haven’t trusted me with anything more than babysitting duty since the lighthouse fiasco.”

“I’m staying off of this mission,” Heron answered for Bradford from her seat across from the conference table. “Taurus Bulba and I had a run in back in the 90’s. For the best interest of the mission, it’s best if my involvement is minute.”

“What did you do, offend him with your disco-era get up? Or had you still not realized the poodle skirt had gone out of style? Steelbeak expected Heron to lash out at that last remark, but it would have been worth it to get a jab in at her.

Fury crossed over Black Heron’s features, she opened her beak to respond but instead Bradford cut her off.

“Taurus Bulba is aware of Black Heron’s experimentation in human cybernetic enhancements. He is, shall we say, less than enthusiastic on the subject.”

“Why a murderous crime lord would pretend to have a moral compass when it comes to using man as experimental test subjects is beyond me.” Black Heron remarked, seemingly iffed that the biggest name in organized crime would find her work immoral.

Steelbeak wasn’t entirely sure what that meant or why Heron would be bothered, but he decided to tuck that information away for later. Maybe he could bring it up later in a taunt the next time she insulted him.

“Enough Black Heron! ” Bradford snapped, “Steelbeak,” he said, redirecting his glare towards him, “this is the most important partnership we’ve ever attempted. Do. Not. Mess. This. Up.” He spoke the last few words slowly as if taking extra care to make sure Steelbeak understood each and every one. Stelebeak felt heat rise under his collar.

“Do you understand?”

“In-dude-hillbilly.”

Bradford blinked.

“He means indubitably,” Heron muttered from across the table, fingers rubbing a circular motion over her eyelids.

Hammerhead continued to shower praises on Steelbeak as the two stole away from the bridge, back to the clubhouse where their night had begun.

“Brutal! Just brutal! The way you decked that guy-” Hammerhead mimed a punching motion as he spoke - “Pow! Right in the kisser!”

The night had started out tame enough. Steelbeak and Hammerhead met up at the designated clubhouse, far on the outskirts of the City near the docks, where underhand businesses dealings and shifty characters thrived.

They eyed each other up and down with equal wariness and suspicion, weighing their chances if the negotiations went south. Steelbeak was pretty sure he could take this guy in a fight, even with the horns. But there were plenty of places a weapon could be hiding in Hammerhead’s oversized suit jacket.

But each of them had been sent by their bosses to play nice and they both knew it. So glass of scotch in one hand, pool cue in the other, they began their conversation on their respective organizations, slipping in their intimidation games by swapping stories of jobs they’d done. A little torture here, a little assassination of local politicans there, extortion of a wealthy CEOs on the weekends. They found ways to get their point across.

Hammerhead had bragged about the kidnapping and mild battery of the child of an olympic coach, to guarantee a set match.

He had to feign a tight-beaked smile at that one. Steelbeak didn’t hit kids. He would kidnap them, steal from them, shove them out of his way, toss them across a room, participate in a series of fiendish events that may or may not directly or indirectly lead to their deaths, but he would not lay a closed fist on a kid.

Steelbeak had been recounting the broken fingers he had given a politician that had the indecency not to be crooked when he first noticed the eavesdropper. He may not be sciency smart like Black Heron but he could tell when a seemingly unassuming patron sitting at a lone table was invested in an outside conversation.

“I think I saw some teeth come out with that one!” Hammerhead chortled. Now, he was nothing but praises and smiles, slapping his back as they strolled the city streets, like they were best chums.

The man in a trench coat (cliche much) had asked for an entire bowl of peanuts yet never touched the snack. When Steelbeak or Hammerhead moved to the far side of the pool table while talking, the man’s neck, turned ever so slightly to follow their conversation. When Steelbeak suggested they move back to the bar to refill their drinks, the man chose that as the time to walk up to the bar counter to refill his untouched bowl of nuts.

Steelbeak may not have finished elementary school but his years of running in a juvenile street gang with kids who would mug an old lady with you in the morning, then steal the shoes off your feet while you slept- followed by a career of looking over his shoulder while in underground fighting ring, never knowing when you’d get suckerpunched outside of a fight- plus the time he spent in prison, half expecting a shiv in the abdomen whenever he turned a corner- had heightened his sensitivity to these kinds of things.

Call it paranoia but it had kept him alive.

“And the way you dangled him over the edge of the bridge till he squealed-”

After starting a fist fight that pushed both Steelbeak and the strange man out of the bar, he edged him towards the water, until delivering the final blow that brought the man to his knees. From there, Steelbeak held the man over the edge of the bridge, what would be a 200-foot drop- until he confessed he was an agent of SHUSH assigned to tail them.

“-Classic villainy! It was like watching an artist at work!”

Before he could get out any more of the guy, some purple weirdo showed up in a puff a smoke.The Terrible Flop Knight- or whatever he called himself- Steelbeak hadn’t really given the masked man a chance to finish his monologue. St. Canard was known for its eccentric villainy and when some purple weirdo in a cape and a mask cuts into your interrogation, you don’t assume he’s there for comic con.

“And the way you dropped the poor sap! You, my friend, are ruthless!”

Steelbeak hadn’t known if the Terrible Flop Knight would make the dive to save the SHUSH agent’s life. He was interfering with his interrogation so he was either on the SHUSH agent’s side, or another eccentric villain there to show Steelbeak up. It was a 50/50 shot but the masked weirdo dove for the agent as soon as he began to fall and Steelbeak and Hammerhead used the distraction to get away.

“Listen, guy, I like your style, and my boss, I know he’d like you too. You’ve got the goods kid! You’ve got that stone-cold, old-fashioned kind of villainy. An original! A real original kid!! Imma tell my boss what happened here tonight. I think you and uh, FOWL was it? We’ll be getting in touch again.”

The goat laughed out loud and shook Steelbeak by the shoulder as they walked, like they were lifelong drinking buddies.

Steelbeak really didn’t like this guy. He carried himself with the confidence of a goon who had gotten to where he was today by brutalizing everyone in his path, but would cower with his tail between his legs the second the boss was unhappy. He was more lapdog than henchman, a rabid, killer lapdog, that never once made a decision for himself.

“I think you could be a valuable friend,” he said the words through a smile like an oil slick on the bay, slippery and gleaming with something sinister. He knew that smile. It was the same smile Black Heron had given him when she found him in his tiny dank prison cell.

“Well, well, well” she said, eyes glinting in the dimly lit room, smile tugging across her sharp, potentially lethal beak, “what do we have here?”

He slapped Steelbeak on the back again before they parted ways, “Ruthless! Absolutely ruthless,” Hammerhead laughed to himself as he went.

Steelbeak was left alone in the darkness of the City with only the moon reflecting off the bay and far off city lights to guide him through the cracked and darkened streets. It was quieter now, he could hear the silver waves lapping against the docks.

He had done it. He had done the job and he had done it well, just like he always knew he would. He met with Bulba’s henchmen, impressed the goon, established the beginning of a “good faith relationship” or whatever the Buzzard had called it. Bulba’s guy had called him an original. He was finally, finally getting the recognition he deserved. If Director Buzzard was to be believed, this meant bigger responsibilities. No more chump work. No more being locked up on base as a glorified babysitter.

So why did he feel so hollow?

He should be basking in the appraisal, accepting each and every compliment, and singing his own praises wherever Hammerhead had left them out.

But instead, he walked the empty city streets, grim faced. He tried to imagine what would come next. Tomorrow morning he’d give Director Buzzards a briefing of what had happened tonight, tell him of his success, and the alliance. Even the sour faced buzzard who seemed to have a frown permanently pressed into his face should be pleased to hear that shouldn’t he? He’d be forced to recognize Steelbeak’s ability, offer him new, bigger, better responsibilities in their plot to steal the world. No more babysitting assets.

But even as he tried to fantasize what that might look like, he found his thoughts kept slipping back to the smile of a particular duck.

His cheeks burned at the thought. He shook his head, as if he could physically banish the thought with the motion. It was dumb. Super dumb. Who cares about the smile of the McDuck nephew? Certainly not him.

But even as he told himself this, the image materialized in his mind, Fethry’s smile, soft and warm like the sun rising over the icy bay.

The worst part was that he knew Fethery would be happy for him. He could picture Fethry’s reaction as clear as day. Knew how his eyes would light up, how he would beam at him. “A promotion? That’s great Steelbeak!”

But what would happen after, when he asked what he had done to earn the promotion? What kind of look of horror would cross over his face when Steelbeak told him he had thrown a man off a bridge after beating him to a bloody pulp? What would happen after he confessed, oh by the way Fethry, that the super top secret organization that had hired you as marine biologist? It's actually the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny that’s been plotting against your uncle and only hired you to hold you as a hostage. But still, I think I’m getting promoted, pretty great right?

Steelbeak shook his head again. He only then noticed the splatters of blood dotted across his knuckles. He scowled. Probably not his. He had done pretty well in the fight with the SHUSH agent. He rubbed a thumb over a knuckle but the blood had already dried into his feathers and didn’t so much as smudge.

He grumbled to himself and shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to think of Fethry or his smile for the rest of the walk home.

#fethsteel #bangs pots and pans together #CRACK SHIPPERS!!!! COME AND GET YER FOOD #jesus christ im late to the party #BUT I DID IT!!!#I SAID I WOULD SHARE A FIC AND I DID!#i have to bite down really hard to keep myself from apologizing profusely for all the parts of this fic that i know aren't great #but im doing it!!!#tw implied child abuse #tw violence

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mommymooze · 3 years

Text

Premonition

Since you were young you’ve dreamed of your death. You watch yourself being stabbed in your stomach. Your eyes follow the dagger coming for you. At first it is from your point of view. As you get older, you watch from the views of others watching your death. You don’t see your whole self nor your clothes. Just your skin, you know its your skin, your stomach, and the knife. Everything else is misty.

You sign up for the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach to learn how to defend yourself and fight bandits, useful as you come from a family of merchants in Conand territory. You are welcomed into the Blue Lions, becoming good friends with everyone in the house. You love having professor Byleth as your teacher. Then the war begins, and everyone goes home. You reunite briefly with your parents. They are too old to fight, so they leave for Morfis or Almyra, somewhere not in the middle of a war. You take what they cannot sell, returning to the ruins of Garreg Mach, and descend into Abyss.

The Ashen Wolves are happy to have you. Yuri sells and trades the goods from your parents for essentials to keep Abyss fed and healthy. The Wolves are still fighting alongside the kingdom, having joined their house once they were discovered. Their war is underground and in the shadows. You frequently are out with one if not all of them running a covert operation to disrupt Imperial forces, stealing enemy supplies and generally make things difficult for Edelgard.

Several times a month you dream of the dagger slicing into your stomach. The vision has changed since you were younger. You watch skin being sliced, the blood quickly flowing like a waterfall down your abdomen. You stand in the grass outside on an overcast day. You can identify the angle of the dagger. You think the wielder is right handed and aiming straight for your heart.

Yuri is contacted by a small band of fighters from Duscur. You assist sneaking them through the kingdom, helping to get them into the dungeons of Fhirdiad before the enemy can execute Dimitri. You escort them until they are out of the city. Dedue is hurt in the mission, you must leave before you know how serious his injuries were. Dimitri is in the worst shape of any of them, but his injuries aren’t all physical.

Yuri then sends you and Balthus out to Riegan territory to work with Claude on a mission. It is good to see the Deer’s leader and even better to hear that he feels he owes something to the kingdom.

You are sent on fighting missions, spying missions, covert missions, trading and food recovery operations. The imperials killed the local chicken farmer. You think it’s a terrible shame to leave all of those chickens to starve. Trying to hide from the Empire’s army in a heavily wooded forest with bags of noisy chickens is one of the more challenging recent jobs. It’s worth it. Abyss now has a chicken coop well below the cathedral, under the long high bridge. Bandits don’t make it down there frequently, so they have a good steady supply of eggs for feeding the residents.

Five years is a long time when you look back at it. This war seems to never end. There is always fighting, fires, thefts, murders. The borders of the countries on maps are blurred, constantly moving, yet not moving at all.

Yuri has the wolves +1 head topside. Today is the day of the Millennium festival. You run up a hill and are thrilled to see a mop of red hair coming into view as you maneuver over the rise. You run to stand alongside Felix and Sylvain just as they are being attacked by bandits. Everyone’s showing off their new skills, taking down enemies with ease. Quickly Annette and Mercedes join the group, Hapi bringing them into view. In a matter of minutes bandits are dead and the group is reunited. The most surprising detail is that Byleth is back! There are tears of joy and grateful sighs. Dimitri is there, but he’s doing worse than the last time you had seen him. He stomps off to the remains of the Cathedral. There is a huge presence missing as you all are still standing in the grass and weeds of the fields. Dedue has not returned.

The Blue Lions make the monastery their base. They clean up and begin to rebuild Garreg Mach. As soon as the training grounds are functional, Felix is after you to spar with him. You always had a great time fighting with him. He was always serious, so intense. You had laughed at him then, always telling him to loosen up. Now honing your skills is absolutely necessary. There are no requests to go easy. Only to fight, to learn, to get better and be better than the next enemy that could stand before you.

Both of you have changed greatly over the time spent apart. You are both stronger, faster than you were so long ago. He looks more muscular than he was in the past. He’s also taller. As the fight continues his strikes are still strong, straight and true. Your strikes become more ruthless, fighting more with your survival instincts than beauty and finesse, just like your enemies have been fighting you for all these years.

Felix forces you backwards and you suddenly find yourself against a wall. His sword is at your throat.

“Hah.” You smirk, glancing to your left.

“Yield.” The master swordsman nearly spits, shoving the point of the sword into your chin.

You smack him on the shoulder with a ball of fire in your hand, flames flashing out in every direction, breaking his concentration. You then cast lightning at him, the shock of the electricity forcing him to let go of his sword. You hit him with mire just as he hits you with lightning, the force of the spells crashing and sending you both flying backwards a few feet, landing flat on your asses.

He looks angry enough to spit nails. You start to giggle then give a full hearty laugh. You smile because you haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

Begrudgingly he walks over and offers a hand to help you off the ground.

Just as you pick up your sword you hear the word that makes your heart leap.

“Again!”

The day is overcast when the Empire attacks the monastery again. It is a difficult fight, so many are injured, however Byleth & Dimitri’s army is successful in defending the academy. Byleth’s presence makes a huge difference for everyone.

Your dreams are every 2 or 3 days now. They have transitioned again, becoming longer and more detailed. You can tell that there are two larger shapes around you. You see your hands reaching for your stomach, your fingers are already bruised and bloodied. It hurts, starting with a sting then feeling the blade go deeper and pain is completely washing over you. The pain is what wakes you. You cannot go back to sleep with this going on inside your head.

Dimitri is a mess holed up in the Cathedral, you decide go to visit him after your premonition.

“Have you come to stare and mock the beast?” The Prince growls.

“No. But quite often you refer to yourself as a dead man. I understand that. I will be dead soon too. I’ve always dreamed of my death. The older I get, the more frequently I dream of it. I’m getting close. Figured the dead should hang out together.”

“I need no others to die for me.” The giant man mumbles.

“I believe in what we are fighting for. I believed in your father. I wont haunt you Dimitri. If I get a choice to haunt anyone, I’ll go to Enbarr and torment Hubert and Edelgard.”

Dimitri doesn’t laugh. He only stands before you quietly as you get up to leave him. You recognize him as one of the figures in your dreams. Silently you remove yourself, walking aimlessly around the grounds.

As per the orders of the War Council, everyone marches to Ailell to gain more troops. They are attacked by Gwendal, the Gray lion. Fighting in battles is hard enough, but when the ground is hot enough to cook a steak, it’s nearly impossible. Your sword feels like it is red hot through your gloves. Still you hold on to your weapon tightly, bringing the enemies to their knees. Rodrigue arrives just in time to assist in taking down Gwendal. The old knight looks relieved at finally finding death. The Duke and his additional troops are sorely needed and join Dimitri’s army. It takes days to get the smell of burnt flesh out of your nostrils.

Everyone heads back to the monastery. You are walking among the wagons when Rodrigue rides by on his horse. You glance his way and nod. Then you stop. Looking at the Duke of Fraldarius, seeing his shadow revealed by the light of the setting sun, you recognize another shape from your dreams.

You are up early every day now. Felix spars with you all morning. Sometimes you spar with him in the afternoon, or head to Abyss to work out with the Wolves. You become more restless with each passing day. If you can’t train with your sword you run, run until your lungs are on fire. Anything to keep yourself moving. You eat, you sleep, or at least try to. Sometimes you fall asleep while eating. Nobody really notices, it seems to be a common occurrence. The joys of war.

The next battle is for the great bridge at Myrrdin over the Aramid river. Ladislava holds control of the bridge and taunts the Blue Lions. Dimitri is screaming for her head in addition to Edelgard’s. The fight has barely begun, you are in the back sending magic after enemy forces when the sound of heavy knights came from behind. You turn to see…Dedue!!! He runs up to Dimtiri, ready to fight for his side. The Blue Lions are extremely energized, they decimate the enemy troops on the bridge. Ladislava is defeated in record time. Everyone is overjoyed that they have cut off the Empire from obtaining any further supplies from the north. Most importantly, they are whole and happily celebrate Dedue’s return.

Every night. Every freaking night the dreams are tormenting you. You dream of an overcast day. They are there, standing on the grass-- Dimitri, Rodrigue, and one other person in front of you. You are out of breath. The dagger appears, you reach for your stomach, a gash in your shirt, pulling at the dagger with your bruised and bloody hands, blood flowing out of you like a river. You scream…and wake up.

You head to the training grounds to practice with Felix. He notices. Your swings are careless, ruthless, the look in your eyes is wild.

“Hey!” He grabs you by your collar, choking you slightly. “Don’t go full boar on me. We need you.”

You spit and stare at the ground. Taking a deep breath you finally answer, “Okay.”

You spar with him but hold yourself back. You need to keep yourself in control. It’s so difficult when the end is so near.

You join Annette and Mercedes in the kitchens baking cookies. You pay way too much for spices for cookies, but it’s not like you need the money much longer. You leave a small box of the not too sweet, heavily spiced cookies at Felix’s door. You hand out a few cookies to each of the Blue Lions that you meet. You can’t forget your friends in Abyss and send a box of cookies their way as well.

Running to the Cathedral you see Dimitri standing at his pile of rubble. He even acknowledges your presence. You are grateful that Dedue and Rodrigue are here for him. You thank him for his leadership and for everything he has done for you and the Lions. You leave as suddenly as you appeared. He looks a bit confused.

Heading to the marketplace, you stop by the armorer and pick up your custom chainmail shirt. It is heavy and goes past your hips. You wear it under your tunic everywhere you go. You even start running with it on, it becomes your second skin.

The army is on the march. They are prepared for the encounter with the Empire’s forces. They have good intel that the Alliance may be sending their army to meet with them as well. You hope that Dimitri and Claude can talk before so that they can work together to take down Edelgard, however the Alliance Lord has not responded to any of Byleth’s requests. You think that there is a spy that must have intercepted them. Claude would have joined you, you know that.

The army stops for a break. There is a large stream nearby and you bathe quickly to get some of the dirt and dust of the road removed. The call to resume marching is much too quick, you grab your clothes and struggle into them as you take your place in the procession.

The three armies converge on a single point. How appropriate that it should be Gronder Field. Just as you are heading to take your position, you realize something is missing. Your vest is hanging on a branch back at the stream. You remind yourself to pick it up on the way back.

The horns of battle sound and you are running towards the enemy, teeth gritted and sword at the ready. The Empire’s soldiers are getting closer by the second. The battle is a blur. You take out enemy soldiers left and right with the flash of your blade. If you can’t cut through their armor, you cook them inside it with fire or electrocute them with lightning. You are part of the main surge of fighters, creeping closer and closer to Edelgard. You hear Dimitri screaming for his revenge. To help him you fire spells at Hubert while stabbing Empire fighters, hoping that your spells can break his concentration away from defending the Emperor.

Dimitri screams as Edelgard retreats, Hubert warping the pair of them away. There are still a few Empire soldiers and you strike them with lightning. Rodrigue rides up to the Prince, dismounting so he can check his wounds. Just as Rodrigue stands next to Dimitri, you look to the right and a young girl is screaming and breaking free from a kingdom knight. She runs towards the two men, screaming about getting even and revenge. Your feet are moving before your mind can catch up, you can’t let her get to them. She sounds insane with rage, demanding revenge for her brother’s death. You drop your weapons to help you gain more speed, she is pulling out a dagger. You’re not sure if she is targeting the prince or the duke. She takes a swing at Rodrigue, slicing into his coat, then pulling her weapon back again to thrust it into his side. You are there, putting yourself between the dark haired man and the ruthless girl. You are grabbing at the weapon, however her deathgrip on the dagger doesn’t loosen, she’s going to kill someone, anyone and she thrusts the dagger into you. Dimitri quickly reacts, bringing Ahredbahr down upon the enraged girl, ending her life.

You reach for the blade with your already bloody hands having fought all day in the battle, you are trying to remove the knif, your fingers slick with your own blood flowing out from your side like a river. You suddenly feel too weak to pull it out. Your legs are giving out underneath you. You feel your body falling. Dimitri and Rodrigue are yelling. There is so much noise, then the buzzing in your ears takes over, the darkness begins to cloud your vision, you recall only a little light in the center showing Rodrigue’s pleading face before everything is black.

You open your eyes but they do not want to focus. You lift your head and it falls back to the pillow, being overcome with dizzyness. There are a multitude of voices, some are shouting, all of them speaking all at once. You want to cover your head and make it all go away, its too much. You lift your hands but they are so weak you drop them. You welcome the darkness as it takes you in.

Things are quieter now. A woman’s voice softly speaks. “Are you awake dear. Nod for yes.”

You pull your chin down, you can’t lift your head much, you feel so incredibly weak. You want to open your eyes but that feels impossibly difficult.

The voice says we’re going to prop you up so you can drink something. It will make you feel better.

Hands from both sides lift your shoulders to tuck a pillow beneath you and then under your head. You grimace at the pain but it stops quickly. You feel a small bottle brought to your lips. You take a little sip, your mouth is so dry it feels cool and wet.

She is telling you to swallow. Ohh, cool on your throat. You open your mouth for more. They let you have a few more sips.

You fall back into a deep sleep.

You waken the next morning hearing the deep voice of Rodrigue advising the healers that you are awake.

“It is good to see that you are still with us.” The Duke smiles.

“How.. how am I not dead?” You gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Since she was prevented from killing me, I was able to heal you. I am a Holy Knight of the Kingdom you know. I was able to heal you, stopping your bleeding as quickly as I could. We then brought you back here. I will notify Dimitri of your recovery, he will be most pleased.

“Thank you for saving me.” You whisper.

“It is I who must thank you. If it wasn’t for your quick intervention, I would not be here.” Duke Fraldarius smiles widely at you.

The clerics check you over, allowing you to sit up. Eventually you feel well enough to clean up and even have visitors.

One by one the lions come to visit. A pile of gifts and flowers begins to accumulate on the table next to the bed.

Felix arrives and shoos everyone away bringing you dinner, which is thin oatmeal. Bestest oatmeal you have had in a long time. While you eat Felix stays to keep you company.

“Oh. I talked to my old man.” Felix says as he fiddles with a piece of loose leather on a belt. “We’re going to try to talk to each other more. That’s a start right?” He asks as he looks at you.

“That’s great. I think you guys are lucky to get a second chance. Not that things will be perfect, but better.” You say as you finish your dinner.

“Have you had that weird dream any more?” The swordsman wonders out loud.

You think, “No. It was every single day and now nothing. I thought for sure it was my death.” Your voice trails off.

“Maybe you get a second chance too.” Felix almost smiles as he takes your empty bowl away.

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mnemememory · 4 years

Text

what dreams may come

On the bad days, Essek reminds Caleb so much of Astrid.

(or; caleb widogast has a type)

On the bad days, Essek reminds Caleb so much of Astrid.

They have the same slight kind of smile, a savageness that goes otherwise hidden underneath layers of slick calm. Essek is quiet and awkward; Astrid is brash and bold; they both hold such a capacity for violence. Caleb dreams of blood on fingers – his fingers, her fingers. He dreams of swimming without end. He dreams of a darkened, starless sky and eyes that hold the secrets of the universe.

Today is a bad day.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time today,” Essek says, leading Caleb up to his tower. Even though Caleb had never stated an intention to visit, Essek always seems to know when the mood will take him. “The Bright Queen wants me to look over some trade agreements – nothing that would interest you –”

“That is fine,” Caleb says. He works hard to keep his voice even and his hands steady. The air smells cold and clean. Acid clings to the back of his throat. “I just need the company.’

“Alright,” Essek says, and lets it be.

Caleb is over often enough now to have memorized every inch of stone, every chip in the brickwork, ever scar on the floorboards. His feet are steady in this familiarity, even as his mind sways. They enter into Essek’s study, and Caleb automatically goes over to curl up in an armchair that hadn’t explicitly been brought up for his use, but no one else used it anyway. Even when Jester invades this space, with her bright eyes and her brighter smile, she knows better than to sit down there.

They both go quiet.

Frumpkin stretches out from around Caleb’s neck and jumps onto his lap, spine arching away the stiffness. Caleb reaches up to run his hands through the fur, letting the repetitive motions calm his hurried thoughts. Even with this distraction, though, he can’t concentrate on his notes. Things flicker in his peripheral at a rate too rapid to keep up with. Every two seconds, his eyes land on a different thing. Books. Spell components. Essek. Essek. Essek.

Essek looks lovely, hunched over his desk, a frown furrowing deep between his eyes. Astrid had been much the same with her assignments – It needs to be perfect, Bren, or they might –

Or they might –

Caleb jerks his eyes back to the roof. Wooden slats. Books. Spell components. Essek.

(Essek, Essek, Essek –)

At the core of it, they are frustratingly similar people. Caleb apparently has a type. Enough ambition to topple reality. Astrid wants to take down Trent, wants to seize power, and Essek…Essek wants to know everything. There’s a hunger in his eyes that Caleb doesn’t know how to sate.

I am lonely, Essek says, and then cloisters himself away in his tower and forgets to eat for three days straight. Caleb has Nott. Caleb has Nott, and Jester, and Beau, and Fjord, and Yasha and Caduceus. They breathe the same air, they live in the same house, they keep track of each other. (They try to keep track of each other).

Essek has all of them, of course, but they are so frequently gone.

“You are distracted,” Essek says, not looking up from his papers.

“You are distracting,” Caleb says, a shadow of a smile building in the corners of his mouth. His stomach isn’t quite strong enough to hold down any food, but he’s almost hungry again. If he wants, he knows, he could simply stand up and walk downstairs to the kitchen. Essek has begun stocking some of the more…unusual of Jester’s requests, which means bountiful amounts of pastries and fruit.

“Is something the matter?” Essek says. He straights up from his desk and turns to look directly at Caleb. “You are usually better at blocking out whatever is disturbing you.”

“I am fine,” Caleb says.

“Caleb,” Essek says with a frown.

“I will be fine,” Caleb amends. “I was not lying when I said I wanted company.’

“Are you sure it is my company you were seeking?” Essek asks mildly.

Caleb freezes.

They are so similar, Astrid and Essek. Essek and Astrid. They both can read him too well.

Essek turns fully in his chair, so that they are sitting face-to-face. The study is not so big that Caleb can avoid his probing gaze. His expression is soft as he takes in Caleb’s sloped posture, his baggard face and vomit-pale lips. He pinches his nose and lets out a long breath.

“You are looking through me,” he explains.

Caleb finds his voice, stomach rolling. “I am sorry,” he says past his panic. “That was – it was not my intention to come here and –”

“Caleb, it is fine,” Essek says. “I don’t mind. I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’m being as honest as I can,” Caleb says. “I am more honest with you than I am with myself.”

“And I appreciate that,” Essek says. “But it feels as though we are conversing about something more than a simple night terror.”

Caleb’s smile is strained. “I suppose you could call her that.”

“Her?”

Caleb feels something hot and wet stick in his throat. He abruptly wants to throw up all over again, purge his insides and scrub them clean. His arms itch so very badly.

Soft hands slide around Caleb’s wrists. Essek is very close, pulling Caleb’s fingers away from his raw skin.

“Caleb,” Essek says, eyes intense. “What is bothering you?”

“The Empire…” Caleb says, accent thickening as memory and reality begin to blur. “I have done so many terrible things in the name of what I thought was good, and just.”

“That is not who you are now,” Essek says. He makes no move to release Caleb. “Who do you see when you look at me? Who is the woman who haunts you?”

“My best friend,” Caleb says, and then he can’t stop. “Her name was – her name is Astrid, and she was beautiful, and driven, and passionate.”

Essek flushes slightly and pulls back. He doesn’t let go of Caleb’s hands.

“She has grown into a monster,” Caleb says. “And I see her spirit in your eyes.”

Essek lets out a small laugh. “Everyone is a little bit of a monster,” he says. He lets go of one of Caleb’s wrists to gesture towards the darkened window. “Look around.”

“I am scared of what she has become,” Caleb says. It chokes him. “And I am scared of what you may become, with enough time.”

“You loved her,” Essek says.

“I love a great many people,” Caleb says. “But yes. I loved her.”

“I, too, have seen the rise and fall of good friends. Mostly the fall. I am greedy in my search for understanding, but I am careful in my trust. And I trust you.”

“She was everything to me,” Caleb says. “She was the sun. She burned so bright.”

“I am the Shadowhand,” Essek says. He is staring directly into Caleb’s eyes. In the corner, Jester’s parasol sits against the wall, carefully placed away from any hazardous materials. “I am not built for the day.”

“I fear I will do the same,” Caleb says. “I will burn you, as I have burned so many others.

Essek stands up and settles himself onto the side of Caleb’s armchair, hesitantly wrapping one strong arm around Caleb’s shoulders. Caleb leans in and struggles to breathe.

“I am not Astrid,” Essek says. “I will make very different mistakes.”

“I do not mind,” Caleb says. “I enjoy your mistakes.”

“And I enjoy yours,” Essek says. He pulls slides to the ground and pulls Caleb to his feet. “Come. I am making little progress with these infernal documents. I have a new spell I can teach you.”

Caleb staggers as blood rushes to his brain. Essek catches him.

“But first, breakfast,” he says. He firmly leads Caleb towards the door. If Caleb maybe leans a bit more heavily on Essek’s shoulder than strictly necessary – well. Neither of them minded.

#critical role #caleb widogast #essek #shadowgast #mentions of astrid #cr fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #little bit angsty

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thedrown · 3 years

Text

GOTS Lore- The Start

Another lore piece! This one isn’t lore lore more so a rough overview of the first arc of the story since you and I both know I’m not actually going to start the comic anytime soon ehhe... Anywho! I’ll probably do more of these since while not terribly cohesive since GOTS is meant to be more anthology than single throughline, I do have several arcs/story ideas so might as well share em!

The beginning of Ghosts of The Separatists actually takes place from the point of view of Noma as opposed to Sikha and Amato and starts with Noma’s master Sidnis Eltair seeing her off as he departs to fight on Saleucami as the war begins to ramp up. While concerned as this is her first solo command and their separation is not a matter of choice, his clone commander Nix assures master Eltair that the mission will be accomplished without issue and the three of them say their goodbyes as Noma, Nix, and a small contingent of clones depart to Balmorra.

With only an Acclamator and two Arquitens, Noma and Nix are deployed for what should be a small incursion to simply subdue a minor pro-Separatist insurrection on the foundry world of Balmorra and while en route through hyperspace we’d see cutaways of both Noma happily chatting with clones on one end and Sikha suiting up in her Mando armour and CIS uniform adn embrace with Amato with hints of anxiousness as both sides convene. Now inside the CIS fleet we meet Sikha (and Amato in the background) as she instructs her bridge crew to prepare weapons as the Republic ships emerge from hyperspace and talks to herself under her breath whispering movements eyes darting about as if trying to figure out her new, and first, major opponent despite the battle not having begun. From Noma’s perspective they are met with sudden shock as to the CIS presence as they had no indication of the insurrectionists having direct Separatist support yet decide to engage having their comms jammed preventing reporting their finding whilst vying to bypass the CIS fleet and concentrate on taking the planet from insurrectionists hoping to take the capital of Sobrik and use it’s defences against the CIS ships overhead. Overconfident from expecting the small fleet to use the usual overwhelming droid strategy, Noma and Nix send the Arquitens forward with starfighter and bomber complement to rush down Sikha’s small fleet hoping to knock out one of her Munificents to make an opening and free up comms yet they instead face screens of turbolasers upon the light cruisers not from Sikha’s Providence, but from a Munificent frigate taking point itself. The realization the Providence is not the capital ship severely damages one of the Arquitens as they attempted to fall back while Separatist missiles shred Republic bombers and droid Tri fighters prevented the clones from escorting and as deployed Amato cuts straight through their confused and scattered squadrons in his Fang Fighter. Allowing a sigh, Sikha returns to her command chair having gained composure from her trick of using a meager frigate as her flagship over the more common carrier and no longer whispering but clearly speaking, she orders her Providence forward deploying small strike units of Hyena bombers and Vultures with two Tri droids tailing behind. The Tris breaking off and speeding forward to intercept any incoming Republic fighters while the Vultures stay close to defend the bombers from any stragglers or simply to take fire in place of them with the turbolaser support from the CIS ships in the rear overwhelming reinforcing Republic fighters and cutting their retreat short as Hyenas obliterate one of the Arquitens while the other’s engines are disabled and the vessel left to be boarded as Sikha brings up the Munificents intent on eradicating the Acclamator before it can escape.

Onboard said Acclamator, Noma begins to panic as Nix orders immediate landings to the planet's surface as troopers hastily pile into gunships abandoning the cruiser to be torn apart by the bombers while Sikha’s frigates took aim at the transports attempting to escape to the surface. Crashing just outside Sobrik, Noma struggles to come to inside a pit with sporadic glimpses of Nix and other clones under heavy fire with her passing out once more to Nix picking her up and running as mortars erupt across their small trench. We then cut to a hologram of Sikha communicating with the insurrection leader as he reports that his fighters paired with her droid backup decimated the Republic troops who made it to the surface with the few who escaped the shelling fleeing into the city. Affirming importance of finding them, Sikha states her intent to land shortly with heavier droid reinforcements to hunt the Republic survivors as we shift to a title card and similar narrated opening to the 501st Journal albeit from Nix who explains his exhausted survivor force having been staging guerilla strikes against the droids though their numbers have been significantly depleted since they began their stealth war 3 weeks since the catastrophic battle and Noma being largely the sole beacon of morale. Noma having been initially dejected from the lack of any Republic response continued to push forward and lead the charge intent on insuring the survival of the remaining clones as they sabotage a supply depot and have to make a quick escape as droidekas swiftly roll in. Rushing into Sobrik's alleyways leaving detonators to cover their escape from the pursuing droids and insurgents, the small cadre of Republic soldiers find themselves at the city’s outer wall and despite Noma’s efforts to cut down as many pursuers as possible she is ultimately winged in the arm and leg and forced to huddle in with her clones as droidekas rapidly enclose every possible escape route and insurrectionists flood in.

Taken to their HQ and brought before Sikha and Amato (again hanging back leaning upon a wall) Sikha begins to not so much interrogate but rather insult and jab at Noma for being a Jedi and getting a rise out playing up her failure to even begin the assault on Balmorra, Noma in her emotional state and fear can do nothing but look down. Grabbing and squishing her face, Sikha begins to go on a tangent as to the “injustices” that Noma was fighting for and forcing her face to survey the courtyard of insurrectionists, she expands upon the eon long plight of Balmorra being a world of great resources that the Republic military heavily depended on yet were more than content to the leave Balmorra’s people in squalor and portions of it’s surface polluted beyond recovery. The insurgent leader highlights this referencing the Old Republic’s proxy war on their planet where they abandoned them to the Sith Empire during the Cold War as he details how the GAR military refineries poisoned the land of his province killing hundreds and pushing him into organizing his underground movement to undermine the Republic military efforts exploiting the planet at the detriment of the people. Following up with a passing comment on the famine of Kalee, Sikha eagerly elaborates her intention to quickly dispose of her but mid rambling Noma quickly appeals to Sikha’s blatant grudge towards the Jedi by commenting she’s likely never fought one and suggesting an execution by combat to Amato’s noticeable surprise. Initially insulted by the suggestion that a Jedi could possess or understand honour akin to a Kaleesh or Mandalorian she was unable to comment before Noma continues on stating that in exchange for their duel and her life, Sikha would return all the surviving clone troopers to neutral space for Republic pickup. Grabbing her face again Sikha asserts her less than favourable opinion of the Jedi girl but accepts her terms and unbinds and rearms her. The two circle one another exchanging words as a now serious Noma asserts her resolve in the Jedi code as Sikha continues to disparage them for their actions in the past and perceived hypocrisy. However before they can actually engage one another they are interrupted by a transmission from Count Dooku to the insurrection leader as he congratulates their liberation but more to the point, gives Sikha a direct assignment to bring Noma to Serenno and moreover, in one piece.

And that’s the basic idea of the start, the following “episodes” (despite not knowing how to animate I think of everything as an animated series) would be the trip to Serenno where Noma would contemplate Sikha’s words, her current position, and also would meet and talk to more laid back Amato as he gets a proper introduction to the series and we get insight into both his and Noma’s deeper character. Upon reaching Serenno, Amato and Sikha would talk with one another and we’d see more on their relationship and what Sikha is normally like when not possessed by her hatred of the Republic as Noma speaks with Dooku and is slowly convinced more towards the Separatist cause and the Count gives a small test of her abilities before deciding whether or not to bring her into his Acolytes.

#star wars #clone wars #gots #ghosts of the separatists #noma yu #sikha san ourag #sivkhalen #amato sevelis #original story #comic #lore #writing

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five-miles-over · 4 years

Text

‘Aftermath’ Part 9: Be Prepared (Commodus x OC)

Summary: With the Senate officially dissolved, new alliances and plans form. The Emperor calls an old advisor, and two military minds come together to save their Republic.

Warning: Mentions of violence

Word Count: 2,203

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

“I had hoped you might have learned some humility and respect.”

Petronius scoffed as Gaius led him out of his villa, having spent the night there after a long discussion filled with songs about the Republic and philosophical quotes. The estate was quite modest for a Senator, or rather a former-Senator. Lemon trees that emanated a sublime citrus fragrance lined the front of the sandstone building.

“Forgive me, Senator. A general is one who only knows to fight their enemy whilst looking them in the eye. He knows not of the art of flattery or the strategy of bending words with a slip of his tongue.”

Gaius sighed. Such is the nature of most military men, he thought, save General Quintus. That man had enough intelligence to save his skin when Commodus seized power for the first time. However, like all military men, his allegiance ultimately returned to the Spaniard at the crucial moment of judgment. “You crave for too much, General,” the older man replied. “It does not become a warrior to yearn for bloodshed so strongly.”

“I want him dead, that is all,” Petronius dismissed. “Rome has suffered enough under his wing.”

“And we shall save our motherland,” Gaius finished. “But we must arm ourselves with alliances and unite the forces under our cause. In the meantime, there may be a chance that Mania may take control of our Caesar before any other weapon can.”

As he reached the iron-gates of Gaius’s estate, he snorted. “With all due respect, Senator. If you are waiting for Commodus to lose himself in madness, then it is now that we must strike.”

Petronius continued, “He has no one left, Gaius. Even his own family had begun to fear him - his sister, his nephew…and possibly anyone else who happened to know Commodus as a child. If we killed him now, there would be no one too mourn for him, or defend him.”

“Humor me, then. How would you, a mere general who lives off the Emperor’s bread and salt, kill him?” Gaius smirked condescendingly.

“Bribe the servants to poison him.”

“Suppose the servants decide to tell the emperor,” Gaius countered. “You would be caught, and they would be rewarded.”

“Then we bribe the gladiators to attack Commodus.”

“He pays their entertainers well enough. Why should they complain or succumb to the influence of an outsider?”

With every counter-remark given by the old man, Petronius felt his temper dissipate bit by bit. Who was Gaius to lecture about the importance of saving Rome from a dictator when he himself, let alone his friends, could not bring themselves to take action? Even after the loss of their positions within politics, all the men were talking about the night before was the beauty of Gaius’s seemingly splendid mistresses. Certainly the wine may have loosened their usually-sharp tongues, but it was surprising, nay unacceptable, to see the state of Rome’s greatest minds.

Could those men not see that by lying low, they were putting the lives of Roman citizens at risk? That by refusing to rise to their call of duty, that they were only clipping the wings of the eagle that symbolized Rome and its greatness? It would only be a matter of time before the emperor, in a bout of madness, paranoia, and pure malice, would sever the talons of this eagle and leave it as powerless as a common fowl.

The general’s nostrils flared while the veins in his forearms throbbed furiously. “I do not care for your shrewd statements, Senator. I do not wish to contemplate upon your retorts, nor do I wish to indulge your appetite for wordplay. As I have told you, I am a general - I shall fight with my hands and not with my tongue. My hands are bound to serve Rome, and all it stands for.”

“Nevertheless,” he hastily added. “Since I have shared your bread and wine, as well as taken refuge in your home during the night, I shall revere you as any proper guest ought to. Fare thee well, Senator. I hope that you and I shall meet again.”

“Fare thee well, General.” Gaius watched as the young man vanished into the hustle and bustle of the public square. He certainly had a problem with the much-too-transparent ideologies that military men had, but in order for Commodus to receive his duly-deserved demise, the Senators needed the favor of the military. Perhaps he ought to the be the one to vouch for diplomacy in the midst of this clash of ideals.

The city was quiet compared to most days, even for a mid-morning. Possibly due to the games taking place today, the plebeians seemed to be missing from the streets. However, peddlers were still out selling their goods - a man clamored for people to buy his new stock of clams and oysters, freshly caught from the Mediterranean, while another advertised fine silks imported from China. Various hues in various designs, he said. A dark red one with a golden border caught Petronius’s eye, immediately remembering his sister’s favorite color.

Perhaps he could buy a bolt of the silk for her, possibly as an attempt to apologize for being away all night. Ever since his brother-in-law had passed away from the wars against Germania, he had sworn to guard his sister and her two sons with his life. Keeping such a vow felt almost effortless under the reign of Marcus Aurelius, but under his son, it was the contrary. She wept in Petronius’s arms the night that Senator Gracchus died, saying that she was glad that her husband received an honorable death instead of a false treason accusation. At that moment, he shushed her for fear that the other Praetorian guards would hear her, reporting them both to the emperor. However, if he could turn back time, he’d tell her not to worry, for the emperor would not live long enough to turn Rome into ruins. And with a warm hug, he would seal his promise to her.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Boots clicking, Emperor Commodus paced the empty throne room with a strangely serene look on his face. He’d just come from the games, which never failed to amuse him. For those moments in the Colosseum, he felt as powerful as the gods themselves, taking life as needed, while watching lesser beings fight to survive. Sweat beaded his forehead while he walked, and he almost wanted to remove his laurel crown off due to the heat. Nevertheless, an emperor had to look his best at all times.

From an outsider’s standpoint, it seemed that Emperor Commodus took the Senators’ tongues along with their power. Silence was all those dry old men had to give him today as well. He needed to know what they could possibly be thinking of, nay, he needed to know about their plan to end his reign before they could strike. It was time for an old loyalist to join minds with him again.

“Falco, I’ve been expecting you.” The former senator entered cautiously, his leather sandals echoing against the smooth floor of the palace halls. He bowed before the emperor and stood upright. From the events of last night, it was with much skepticism that any of the senators thought that they could ever receive the emperor’s good graces. Perhaps his former loyalty has now manifested into a blessing. “How may I be of service to you, Caesar?”

Commodus gestured for him to be seated. “I take it that you, along with your colleagues, have heard my decision regarding the new…alterations in the governance of Rome. It must certainly displease you and your colleagues, does it not?”

Without flinching, Falco kept his wits near despite the presence of the temperamental Emperor. “Caesar, I cannot speak for those men. With all due respect, they are no longer my colleagues. All I know is that you are my Emperor, and that every decision you take must have been formed with necessary contemplation." Falco knew he was telling lies. To the Senate, Commodus never gave the impression of a man of thought, let alone the impression of a man.

And as for the Emperor, he knew better than to take the former Senator’s words by face value. Nevertheless, he did need an ally and it was only Falco who gave him advice when the rest of the Senate sided with Maximus.

“Thank you, Falco. Out of those men, it seems that you are the only one who genuinely cares for my welfare. Your priorities lie for the Empire, and for none else. That is why I wish to make you my main advisor. With no Empress and no Senate, I need a good man like you by my side…to rule, and to care for the people.”

Pretending to be stunned, brimming with gratitude, Falco rose from his seat. “Highness, your offer is…one of high value.”

“Join me, Falco,” Commodus extended his hand, which was accepted by the former Senator. “Join me, and we shall usher in a new age of Rome.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The Sun was ruthless to the troops of Rome today - many a foot soldier grunted with displeasure as they sparred with each other under the sweltering heat. General Petronius and Centurion Philomenus greeted each other with a familiar look, having seen each other at Gaius’s meeting last night.

“I sense tension in your fingers,” the general pointed towards his peer’s hand.

Philomenus chuckled as he glanced at his knuckles circling the hilt of his sword. “I…I thought about my sister. How she must be waiting for me, and how the heat is making her uncomfortable.”

“I empathize - I have a sister as well. Her husband was a legionnaire - do you remember Felix Cassius? No…well, the army is quite massive.”

The centurion picked up his weapon, twirling it absentmindedly. “Forgive me for not knowing him. I think it would take one eons to count every single life lost during the late emperor’s battles in Germania.”

Petronius gritted his teeth. “I wish the emperor’s son lost his life in Germania instead of the emperor.” Almost immediately, Philomenus tackled him to the ground with a sandy hand over his mouth.

“You monster!” Petronius gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “What in the name of Jupiter was that for?!”

“It was for daring to speak against the Emperor. We both know that punishment would be doled out on both of us - on you for your impudent tongue, and on me for listening to your talk of treason.”

“Men like you make me sick,” the general spat. “Was it not you who quoted the great Marcus Aurelius himself, having memorized his extensive writings? Do you not know that by punishing those who speak out against Commodus, you only encourage his tyrannical, anti-republic ways?!”

“Perhaps, but I do know when to keep my tongue in my cheek,” Philomenus retorted. “Did you not see what happened to the Spaniard who dared to challenge the emperor?”

“The Spaniard was once a general, Philomenus. He used to be one of us. If he could not complete his revenge, it would be our responsibility to finish it for him.”

Shaking his head, he took the general behind a wall while pretending to be very thirsty. “I do believe in the ways of the Republic, and that Rome’s golden age ended when the republic was seized by a pompous man pretending to be a dictator.”

“Commodus is not Julius Caesar, Philomenus - he has no military prowess of his own, aside from formidable swordplay.”

“Please, just know that he will not last long. The grain will run out, and the public who loved him so much will turn their backs on him. But while he’s in power, let him be happy.”

“You sound just like those blasted Senators,” Petronius grunted. “Those old men can afford to live off their ancestral wealth for their remaining years, but you and I are not like them!”

Philomenus yelled back, suddenly triggered by the mention of familial affluence. “I know that! My parents perished when I was thirteen, leaving my sister and I penniless with a pair of newborn twins.”

“I have worked a long way to come where I am,” he continued to fume. “I know what I have read speaks of a Republic, but what can I do?! What can we do, given our state?”

“Then join me,” Petronius coerced the other man. “Help me think of a way to kill Commodus, and together we can bring back the Republic Rome was always meant to be.”

“Here is what we’ll do- we will ambush him from the exit gates of the Colosseum. And when he enters without bodyguards, we will make our presence known and attack him,” Philomenus whispered. “I will keep our weapons under my tunic so as not to arouse suspicion.”

“Anger has certainly brought your intelligence into light. I admire your plan, but what will I do?” Petronius asked with a raised eyebrow.

The centurion smirked, “Stay alive, and keep your goddamn mouth shut for once.”

“Commodus must die….for Maximus and for the Senate.”

“No, he must die for Rome.”

#commodus fic #commodus x oc #gladiator 2000 #gladiator au #gladiator fic

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