#and when he flips them palm up; the grenade is in the noises hand

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter Fifteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3060

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Bucky has a nightmare and one thing blows up, that's it.

<< Previous Next>>

Masterlist

We had been flying for a while now and the sun had finally gone down. I had cleaned up the bullet graze on my side earlier with the onboard first aid kit, it had now started to heal itself seamlessly back into my skin like it was never there to begin with.

Bucky had never once taken his eyes off the sky since we took off. I had asked him a few more questions right after we started flying steady, but he just pressed his lips into a firm line. He was like an impenetrable wall and it was throwing me off. What had they done to the Bucky I grew up with, where was the bright, smiling love of my life? I sat there staring at the parts of his face that peaked through the mop of messy brown hair he had.

“Stop staring at me.” The sudden sound of his voice startled me enough that my elbow slipped from the place where it was perched on my knee. I quickly turned away from him in my chair and started to look out of the window into the dark.

“Sorry, it’s just,” I stopped short to think of what to say next. “It’s just that I thought you were gone. Steve watched you fall from the train. I mourned you, I was still mourning you. Now you’ve shown up and I barely recognize the man in front of me.”

He took his hands off the yoke and pressed some buttons to presumably turn autopilot on. “I have no memory of any of that. Flashes, yes, but never anything substantial.”

“I know and that’s okay, it’s to be expected. I followed you for a reason and help you remember is part of that.” I told him softly. I had no clue what he had been thinking for the last seventy years, but I knew it wasn’t something that could be fixed in just a couple of hours. The fact that he was talking to me with less hostility than before gave me the hope that I needed to know that I could help him.

Turning his head away he lets out a gruff sigh. “We’ll be landing in a couple of hours, get some sleep.” He gave me a soft look through the curtain of hair before going back into that stone-cold guise.

I nodded in acceptance and slowly stood and made my way to the bench that lined the side of the cabin. I laid down on the cold metal and let the sounds of the jet lull me to sleep.

When I woke up the cabin lights had been turned off and it was almost completely pitch black, save for the few flashing buttons on the control panels. I sat up and noticed that the jet was quiet. The noise from flying was long gone but the sounds of the night could be heard throughout. I looked around the cabin groggily to see that the back ramp was lowered to the ground. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood up. Squinting in the dark I could faintly see something standing a few feet out from the ramp in the grassy field.

I made my way down into the tall grass and stood next to Bucky's statue-like form. He was silently looking up at the sky. We stood there like that for a few minutes before he slowly bent down to reach into the duffel bag we had packed earlier. It was sitting on the ground with a few other bags from the jet. Standing back up he reached out his hand toward me and I brought my hand out to meet him, he gently placed one of the grenades into my palm.

“What’s this for?” I asked while examining the device.

“Were destroying the jet.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh, why?”

“Unless you want HYDRA to come to find us, I suggest you pull that pin and throw.” At that, he unpinned his and tossed it into the jet cabin. It took me a second to comprehend what was happening. I was still half asleep as he snatched the grenade away from me and tossed it in as well. Just seconds later I was thrown off balance from the large explosion.

“You’re lucky none of my things were on there,” I spoke up while watching the flames encompass the dismantled jet.

“Quit talking and grab a bag, we have a long walk ahead,” he said in a scolding tone. I turned to watch him grab the large duffel bag, leaving me to carry the smaller backpack. I grabbed the strap and hoisted it up onto my back and slid my other arm through the second strap then started after him.

“Where are we exactly? I questioned as we maneuvered around a giant hole in the field.

“Maybe a three-hour walkout of Bucharest.” He stated. I groaned after hearing that. I just woke up, walking for three hours to get to the Romanian capital in the middle of the night wasn’t entirely my idea of fun. But I put up with it, barely entertaining myself by picking flowers growing along our path and then plucking off their petals like I used to do as a child. That only lasted for so long before I started to get bored, the next thing I tried was to kick a rock I had found when we had made it to a paved road. I had to stop kicking it after I had accidentally hit Bucky in the back of the legs. His sharp glare stopped me in my tracks.

The sun was coming up now, as we topped a hill that looked out into the capital city. I slowed my walk to take in the awakening city, there were severely cars driving the roads, probably going off to work. I sped up my steps as soon as I realized that Bucky had just kept going and didn’t stop to take in the morning splendor with me.

I spoke as I came back up to his side, “So what do we do now?” He let out a frustrated puff of air and I could tell that he was getting annoyed at all of my questions. He never answered me, just kept walking down the street and into the heart of the city.

It must have been past lunchtime when we finally found a shabby almost decrepit-looking apartment building. I could feel and hear my stomach rumbling as we ascended the long spiraling set of stairs to one of the topmost apartments. We had no key to get in so Bucky kicked the door in and shuffled inside. I doubted that anyone would even realize that we were here, the whole thing looked almost completely vacant. I walked through the threshold and into the tiny living space. It was just one small room, just big enough for one or two people to live comfortably, and a singular closed-off bathroom right after you came through the front door.

Looking around some more, the more I realized this apartment building truly was abandoned. The sheetrock walls were chipping along with the paint. In the kitchen, the backsplash was cracked and missing in some spots, the fridge looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in thirty years, the same as everything else in the almost empty room. The only thing in the place that wasn't attached to anything was a small square dining table and two chairs with several years of dust caked onto them. The windows and the door to the back balcony had been covered up with various newspaper pages, adding to the dark and dingy aspect.

Bucky sat the duffel bag onto the table, I placed the backpack down as well. Walking over to the kitchen and flipped the light switch, amazingly the bright strip light above the sink on the far wall came buzzing to life. I gave a silent prayer in thanks for that. I was startled a bit when I heard a loud splintering noise beside me. Turning quickly I spotted Bucky ripping up the wooden floorboards in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hiding the weapons, what does it look like I’m doing,” He quipped back sharply as he reached for the bags on the table just a few inches away. He shoved them into the hole he had made and then placed the broken planks back where they had been. He stood up slowly after that and began walking for the front door. “Stay here,” he gave a stern look then stepped out into the stairwell, slamming the broken door shut.

I just stared wide-eyed at the door. ‘Did he really just leave me here?’ I asked myself. I went over to the door he had left from and opened it, his footsteps were long gone. I raced to the first window in what was presumably the living room and tore a piece of newspaper from it to look and see if I could spot him but the wall of the balcony was in my way. I gave a long and exasperated huff before turning around and giving the room another once over. ‘Well, it can't hurt to clean a bit. There had to be at least something in here that I can clean with.’ And I was right, I found a stack of four washcloths along with a couple of bath towels under the bathroom sink and a very old broom sitting just outside the back door.

It took almost two hours to scrub the grime from the floors after I had swept the thick layer of dirt and dust-up, and it took even longer to scrub down the kitchen appliances. It had been nearly five hours and Bucky still wasn’t back yet, I had cleaned everything I could until it was almost spotless. It had helped me keep my mind off of where he was and what he was doing, it also helped to keep me from remembering how hungry I was. But now that everything was almost sparkling clean I had nothing to stop my mind from wandering. ‘He wouldn’t just leave, would he? No, not after hiding all the guns. What the hell is he even doing out there? I swear to God he better bring back something to eat, five hours is ridiculous, it's already dark outside.’

I reached my hand up to fiddle with my locket and ring absentmindedly. Fear started to creep into my thoughts. I paced up and down from the front door to the back over and over again until the door suddenly flew open. Swiveling around from my spot just past the bathroom I watched as a mattress made its way through the door. I hurried over to help maneuver it into the tiny hallway, it smelled horrendous like it had been outside for a while. After struggling to pull it into the living room and throwing it to the ground I looked up at Bucky who had been the one to bring it in. He was standing awkwardly at the edge of the room with a few plastic bags around his wrists. Shaking his head a little he made his way to the dining table and placed the bags down. Whatever was inside made a soft clicking sound before falling out of the top to reveal a jar of chicken soup.

I practically ran to the table and snatched the can up. “I forgive you for being gone so long since you brought back food,” I said as I made my way into the kitchen to turn the stove on. We had no pots at the moment so I cracked open the can and placed it in the middle of the eye to heat it up. As I waited I went back over to the bags he laid out and rummaged through them, taking all the cans, bagged food, and the few pieces of silverware out and placing them on the table. The last bag, closest to the wall, had a couple of items of clothes that looked to be in both of our sizes and a few toiletries. “Where did you get all of this?” I asked as he sat in one of the chairs.

“Soup kitchens and shelters,” he said pointing to the food, clothes, and toiletries, then he pointed to the mattress, “and the side of the road.” My face scrunched up at that. There was no telling what was all over that filthy thing. From where I was standing I looked like it had been dropped in the dirt a couple of times. I was going to have to find something to get that smell out of it before I even considered sleeping anywhere near it.

“Do you want some of this soup?” I turned back to the stove to check on the can.

“No,” he responded gruffly before standing to his feet, grabbing his pair of fresh clothes and the soap from the table before heading into the bathroom. I watched after him until the door completely shut behind him, by then the soup was at a nice simmer. I took it off the eye, using one of the washcloths as a potholder before it began to boil over. Grabbing one of the spoons Bucky had brought back I settled down at one of the chairs and began to eat my nice warm dinner. Halfway through scarfing down the soup, I decided to put some on for him even though he said no.

After I finished eating Bucky emerged from the bathroom with sopping wet hair in a pair of loose grey sweatpants and a red long sleeve henley. I eyed him before getting up to throw my can away and set the used spoon in the sink. I grabbed the now warmed Chicken soup from the stovetop and walked to place it in front of him without saying a word. Then I moved to grab the extra pair of clothes he had brought back and headed for the shower.

Finally being able to take off the suit was a big relief. Yes, it was made to be comfortable, but it wasn’t made to spend two days in. Turning the water on and stepping into the warm stream felt even more wonderful, the sweat and grime of the fight the day before began to rinse from my hair and off my body. I stood there, unmoving for what felt like hours before grabbing the three in one body wash from the side of the tub. I shook my head, if we were going to be living here for a while, and I had a feeling we were, I was going to have to find some real shampoo and conditioner, but hey, beggars can't be choosers when you’re on the run and in hiding.

When I felt as though I was completely and thoroughly clean, I stopped the water, rung out my hair, and grabbed one of the bath towels I spotted under the sink earlier to dry off. Then I got myself dressed in the fresh pair of underwear, which I was surprised to see, a long sleeve black t-shirt and an identical pair of gray sweatpants to Buckys, only smaller. Making my way out of the steaming bathroom I noticed Bucky wasn’t at the table anymore. I glanced around, finally landing on him lying on his back beside the mattress, looking like he was sleeping, which he most likely wasn’t. I smiled fondly, he must have wanted me to take the mattress for myself. Although I didn’t want to be rude by not sleeping on it, I chose to find a spot on the floor until the thing could be as thoroughly cleaned as I could get it.

Laying down on my side facing Bucky, I watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took. It was hypnotic, that with the quiet faint sound of his heartbeat, I began to fall asleep.

I awoke a couple of hours later to the sounds of small shouts and heavy, labored breathing. I snapped up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Turning my head to Bucky I took in the sight of him thrashing in his sleep before slowly crawling over to him. I tenderly placed my hand on his shoulder in hopes that maybe it would help calm him.

“Bucky,” I whispered close to his ear, “Bucky woke up. It’s just a dream.” Gently moving my right hand up to remove the sweat-dampened hair out of his face. As my hand came to rest on his clenched jaw, his metal arm came up to seize my wrist. I gasped at the force but didn’t try to snatch my hand back. His eyes were still closed, he was still asleep. He was mumbling something incoherent, I leaned in closer to see if I could hear him better but it was still unintelligible. “It’s okay Buck, I’m here, I’ll always be here. Shh.” I tried to quiet him, and it worked for a few seconds before he started to thrash his head from side to side and his grip on my wrist became stiff and unyielding. All I could do was sit there and whisper into his ear as he gripped onto me for what seemed like dear life.

Several minutes of on and off thrashing about I heard him say something that made my heart stop. He called out my name. I hadn't told him my name at any point in the past two days. The sound of it coming off of his lips sent a spark through me, my heart fluttered and my stomach tightened. He remembered, even if it was subconsciously, he still remembered. I smiled at that before going back to trying to calm his sleeping figure.

At some point, he calmed down to the point where I no longer had to kneel next to him and calm him. He never let go of my wrist throughout the whole ordeal, even now he was still gripping it like a vice. I just left it there as I laid back down on my side and let sleep consume me once more.

The next morning, he was nowhere to be found.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

[flowers-of-io]

Made with love and sleep deprivation, no beta because I’m lazy. Happy new year!

Edit: It’s now on AO3 too!

“I hoped to see the new year behind the City’s walls once more,” Elsie says, rubbing her palms together above the campfire for warmth. It makes Drifter wonder idly whether Exos even need to keep warm, or is it just a luxury, like sleep for Lightbearers—one step further away from humanity, mindlessly taken by many in the name of convenience. But that’s the thing about Exos, right? The need to feign humanity so furiously, least their brains collapse on themselves.

“New year’s just a concept.” He does not verbalise the thought, just shrugs and pokes the fire with a piece of pipe they have found laying around the campsite. The flames spring out higher and Elsie withdraws her hands to avoid them. “A made-up reason to relieve the sad, lonely life.”

“You’re always fun to be around.”

“No one’s keeping you here by force, you know.”

They are huddled by the fire, three hooded figures encircling a patch of warmth in the pervasive cold. Eris is furthest away, staring into the darkness with an unreadable expression, and her hands fiddle with the edge of her scarf. Drifter and Elsie sit by her two sides, both masterfully avoiding each other’s glances, and Drifter’s Ghost hovers over his shoulder; its red optics sweeps over the area cautiously.

“Before the walls had been built,” Elsie starts, ignoring his retort, “I was in the City for the new year, once. And people were shooting fireworks. I remembered those from my childhood, but they were even more beautiful than back in the day. I heard the City’s Warlocks figured out a way to make them using void grenades.”

“Your boss allows for that?” Drifter chuckles, pulling a jade coin out of nowhere and flipping it with a ding. “Hey Moondust, what’s that rocket launcher you made that does this cool stuff with void, where it splits and—”

“I did not make it. It is an embodiment of the deathsong.”

“Yeah, sure, and you never tried shooting things with it just for fun? What d’you do on that moon every year—got no useless traditions like us lowly folks?”

The question stings, if only a little. Useless traditions, Eris thinks, with bitterness growing on her tongue; roaring storms of colour tumbling overhead, the din in her ears—pressing on her sinuses—as  the sky sets on fire and explodes into a million pieces, tearing open and bleeding light.

She used to love that ecstatic chaos, standing in a singing crowd with trembling hands, pouring champagne over her shoes, staring with that primordial fascination at the ungraspable beauty of the skies alight. The memory of that thrill only infuriates her, because she no longer can, because she has seen the real storm and real fire, she has seen the sky torn apart and bleeding, and the crowds were screaming but there was no champagne and no stars, only the blood on her hands and the smouldered remains all around her, and her head heavy from the explosion that killed ten of them before they had got a chance to crawl for cover.

Fear, it enrages her; how it only takes and takes and takes, how she can no longer love what she used to and must cower away from any joy it once brought. How everyone she used to enjoy it with are gone, and every erupting star reminds her of the emptiness, of the space where their hands used to be for her to reach out.

“Lights and noise. And screaming people.” She says dryly and looks away. “Too many screaming people.”

Drifter narrows his eyes, and Eris tenses up, readying herself to counter any oncoming remark, but he only frowns, then stands up and heads to the cabin.

“Hey, I’mma rummage through your stuff.”

“No—” Eris starts, but the door have already shut. There is a small chuckle coming from Elsie, cut off by the murderous stare of three glowing eyes.

He jumps out after a solid minute, a few Cursed Thrall’s heads in his hands, pulsating sickly green in the darkness. He throws one up and follows by a shot from his cannon, and the explosion echoes through the glacial mesa for miles.

“You’re gross!” Elsie snaps, cowering to avoid the flesh and chitin raining down. Drifter just laughs and throws another one.

“When I assume you cannot be any more ludicrous, you never fail to prove me wrong,” Eris says, but there is no edge to her voice, and she stares at the Thrall heads erupting in the sky, unwavering. The makeshift fireworks light the campsite with flashes of green, and the remains scattered on the snow emit a gentle glow long after the eruption.

Drifter blows up the last head and plops back next to the fire, grinning like a kid who just stole a candy from the store. “Happy new year, nerds.”

Eris rolls her eyes, but the quivering of her lips betrays the held-back smile.

“Happy new year.”

#whatever this fic is i don't know #i'm gonna tidy it up one day but this is not this day #i went to bed half past 6 am help me #ptsd in a cute new year's story? why not! #my fics #destiny 2 #bad coworkers #fireteam europa #exo stranger #eris morning #sad man from the basement #eris morn #the drifter #elsie bray #destiny 2 fic

[coldkryptonitecupcake]

“Abomination”, Ch. 16

  As Sienna fired round after round at the Chieftain, she could see Narvuk and Poppy holding their own against the Wizards out of the corner of her eye. The Scorn took cover behind one of the statues, and Sienna cursed as her shot pinged off the obstacle. She held the sight line for a moment more before darting towards another outcropping with a better angle. Halfway there, however, the ground beneath her erupted and she was thrown off her feet, losing her grip on the rifle as she flew.

  She hit the ground and rolled for several feet, the breath forced from her lungs by the impact among the rocks and gravel. The Hunter scrambled to her feet and was greeted by two of the Abominations they had seen earlier advancing on her, Arc energies gathering in their outstretched palms. Sienna tensed, then leapt out towards her weapon as bolts of Arc lanced out to where she had crouched. She scooped up her rifle, whirled to aim, and fired two rounds into one of the Abominations' chests, staggering it back into its companion. It did not fall, however, and recovered quickly, blasting again and again at its prey. She dodged as many as she could, but one bolt found its mark in her shoulder. "Gah! Son of a bitch, that hurt! Let's see if you handle fire like you handle lead, asshole!," Sienna barked as she tossed an incendiary grenade between her assailants.

  For a moment, the grenade did nothing, and the Abominations moved ever closer towards the Hunter. Then it detonated, and the Abominations staggered again as they caught fire. They swayed and flailed for a few moments before falling to ashes. "Yeah, didn't think so," Sienna panted, the adrenaline wearing off. "Alright, back to work."

  Narvuk spun as a volley of Arc balls raced past, one of the monoliths providing cover. He struggled to catch his breath, the barrage continuing past his head. Poppy fell in beside him, also out of breath, and reloaded her Jade Rabbit. "Any... bright ideas... big guy?," the Warlock asked as her wounds slowly sealed. The Knight shook his head slightly, then ducked down as another Arc blast came dangerously close to taking a piece of his shoulder off. He looked back to his friend and saw an Abomination coming around behind her.

  "Down!," he shouted, and Poppy instinctively dropped to the ground as Narvuk let off a bolt of Arc lightning that vaporized his target instantly. She stood and nodded to Narvuk, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by one of the Wizards, who exchanged looks with its partner before turning and gliding away. The other raised its claws and uttered a shrieking cry, the pitch and intensity driving Poppy and Narvuk to their knees. As they clutched at their heads, Thrall began burrowing up around them.

  Narvuk was the first to recover and saw close to two dozen of them surrounding him and Poppy, but not attacking. "Poppy? Poppy, get up. Up, Warlock!," he ordered, shaking her with one hand, his eyes never leaving the Thrall around them. She groaned, propped herself up on her hands, then jerked back when she noticed the Thrall. "Easy, easy!" Narvuk grabbed her arm as it shot out for her weapon. "There must be a good rreason they haven't killed us already."

  "Yeah, well, I'm not planning on waiting to find out what that reason is," she whispered harshly, still grasping for the rifle. Her fingers brushed its grip and the Thrall tensed and hissed. "Okay then, change of plans," she grumbled. Before them, the Thrall stepped to each side, opening a walkway for the Chieftain, who stomped toward them, snarling at any Thrall that was too close. "You got a plan, big guy?," Poppy muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

  "Sienna is still out there, remember. The advantagge is still ours," the Knight whispered back before a Thrall shrieked at him, cutting him off. The Chieftain came to stand in front of the Guardians and roared in their faces, spittle flying and speckling their faces. "Any second now..." Narvuk's eyes flicked in all directions for any sign of their friend. But there was nothing to be seen.

  The remaining Wizard glided over and signaled Narvuk and Poppy to stand. The pair glanced at each other, then complied, leaving their weapons where they lay. Shepherded by the Thrall, they were marched back to the remaining cages, still full of Cabal. The Chieftain trudged back into the rune circle as the Wizard resumed its chant, the symbols beginning to glow brighter. Poppy groaned as the magic started taking effect, her Light seeming to shrink away from the runes.

  As the Wizard's chanting grew louder and more feverish, Narvuk and Poppy had to shield their eyes from the intense glow of the circle, was burning with soulfire. The Chieftain began roaring, its skin bubbling and shifting, and it dropped its Mine Launcher as it began writhing and clawing at itself. The pair of Guardians watched in horror as it began to grow taller.

  Its armor cracked and broke at the joints, falling away and thudding to the ground. The arms on either side of its body fused as its torso rearranged itself, bones breaking and fusing audibly. Its chest expanded and its helmet went the same way as the rest of the armor. At this point, Narvuk and Poppy were doubled over in pain from their proximity to the ritual. Narvuk glanced behind him at the cages to see that the Cabal inside were being drained of life, becoming withered husks before his eyes.

  The Wizard's chant reached its final crescendo, and the glow of the runes faded. The Guardians looked up, and what they beheld could only be described as obscene. The Chieftain had become almost Ogre-sized, its misshapen face made more grotesque by the fusion of two if its four eyes. The armor that had not fallen from its body had become lodged in its overdeveloped muscles. "Any time now, Hunter...," Narvuk muttered, claws flexing in preparation.

  The thing that used to be a Chieftain roared to the sky, the Thrall around it backing away in fear. The Wizard hovered before the not-Chieftain, inspecting its work, occasionally poking or simply running its claws over the hardened skin. As it continued its inspection, the monster's hand shot out and latched onto the Wizard's head. The Wizard struggled for a moment, but its resistance ended as its creation crushed its skull, the crunching noise making Poppy cringe. The Thrall shifted, uncertain of their next move. One edged closer and was knocked aside like a bowling pin. The rest of the swarm immediately leapt at their comrade's murderer. The first few were batted down like the first, but as more swarmed the not-Chieftain, it fell back under their weight.

  "Narvuk, let's move!" Poppy jumped to her feet and darted past the circle to take cover behind the farthest monolith, keeping an eye on the struggling Thrall. The Knight bolted up and followed her as quickly as he could manage. As the pair prepared to charge back in, a voice laughed at them from above.

  "Y'all Guardians look kinda empty-handed." When the pair looked up, they were happy to see Sienna kneeling on the cliff, head cocked with what Narvuk assumed to be a smug grin. "Here, you might need these," she called, reaching back and tossing down Narvuk's sword and Poppy's rifle.

  "Smartass," Poppy chuckled as she reloaded. Beside her, Narvuk caught his Cleaver with a small flourish. "Now, let's finish this." Sienna nodded and jumped down from her perch, landing without a sound. She slung her sniper over her shoulder and drew the hand cannon on her thigh, checking the sights as she joined her companions. The trio turned back to the circle and instantly ducked, a Thrall flying past them, disintegrating as it went. The not-Chieftain stood upright in front of the Guardians, its claws and chest covered in chitin and ash. It bellowed at the three, who stood shoulder to shoulder. "Sienna, you think you can hold its attention for a sec?"

  "Do I even wanna know?"

  "Just a small experiment, I swear. This time," Poppy added, a grin in her voice. Sienna shook her head, but nodded as she stepped forward and flipped a knife in her free hand. "Big guy, you up for a shock?" Narvuk glanced sideways at the Warlock, worry creeping into his eyes for a moment.

  As gunfire rang out not 20 meters from them, the Knight and the Warlock faced each other. Poppy stood almost perfectly still, her face turned to the sky and her hands open as if in prayer. After a moment, Narvuk felt a tingling along his skin and looked up. He could have sworn he saw something darting between the stars as the tingle became a throb, then a surge. Suddenly, a massive bolt of Arc lightning struck Poppy and she was lifted a foot off the ground as she entered the Stormtrance. "Ready?" Narvuk braced himself and nodded, his Cleaver raised in front of him. Arc began flowing from Poppy's hands into the blade and over Narvuk's stony skin, the Knight's eyes glowing brighter every second. The lightning crackled between the Guardians, and from them to the rocks around them. When Poppy's current finally subsided, Narvuk inhaled deeply to center himself.

  "Sso much power... from so little. Let's see what it can do." He turned back to where Sienna had gone to fight the monster and saw her crawling away from the thing, bleeding from cracks in her armor. It raised its claws to crush her as her friends watched. "NO!," Narvuk roared, flipping his sword and throwing it like a javelin. As it flew, the Arc energy around it burned white-hot, taking the shape of a spear. The monster had time to turn its head, but that was all. The Arc javelin punched through the beast, disintegrating it entirely.

  "Nnh... thanks for the save. Timing still needs... work thooooOW sonuvabitch!" Poppy raced to Sienna's side, helped her stand, and retrieved Sienna's cannon. "C'mon, let's get you back to the cave so Harrier can patch you up, yeah?"

  "You two go on ahhead. These statues... I want to see what I can learn from them. I will join you when I'm ffinished," Narvuk interjected, looking up at the crude face carved into one of the monoliths.

  "Alright, big guy. Don't take too long, y'hear?" With that, Poppy helped Sienna onto her Sparrow, grabbed the handlebars around her friend, and zoomed away, leaving the Knight alone with only his Ghost for company.

A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry for the wait, finishing this chapter was just really difficult for some reason. But! It's here now, and I hope y'all enjoyed it! :D

#destiny #destiny 2 #destiny hunter #destiny zavala #Zavala #ikora rey #destiny ikora #eliksni #eris morn #cayde 6 #destiny hive #destiny oc #destiny titan #destiny warlock #destiny the game

[madame-brioche]

Hi there! So this is my first time requesting a lil ficlet/imagine. I was wondering if you can do a Babe Heffron x Reader where the reader is a new combat nurse (replacement?) for Easy and Babe Heffron is infatuated by her (almost enchanted) and each time they meet it's very endearing and sweet. Thank you!

Of course! This will probably be in 2 parts, so here’s part 1:

Title: Angel On The Battlefield

Author: madame-brioche

Prompt: Heffron x Reader

Your fingers were trembling so bad you could hardly hold the small surette of morphine. There were a great many more in the crate, along with bandages and thread and other supplies. How in hell were you supposed to sneak all of this stuff out of there?

You dropped the surette at the sound of a door slamming in the distance but you saw no one in the hallway. With a shaky breath, you waited a minute before continuing your search. After only a week of being shipped to a military hospital in France, you couldn't risk getting caught sifting through the head surgeon's private office for supplies.

You knew the men on the frontlines were short on just about everything, and transporting the injured all the way back to the hospital just to patch up minor wounds was difficult and left gaps in the line. So here you were, pocketing anything you could think of to bring back to the company medics you'd been working with in the short time you'd been there.

After the noise in the hallway, you kept waiting for a few moments until it was absolutely silent again. Exhaling slowly, you turned back to the crate of supplies, putting surettes in your pocket. This would probably be your only opportunity to scrounge, as the door of the surgeon's office was usually locked, safekeeping paperwork and medical records.

Another closing door echoed, this time closer, and you tensed up once again. When the shuffling of boots came to a halt outside the door, you felt your heart sink out of your chest. You pressed the toe of your shoe to the crate of supplies, ready to nudge it under the desk.

Upon a knock at the door, you froze before ducking into the nearest utility closet in the office, wall-to-wall with shelves of paperwork. You barely had time to close the door just a crack before the office door swung open.

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, melting into the darkness of the shallow closet.

The closet door was open enough that anyone who walked next to the desk could clearly see in, so you hoped whoever it was would only glance through the doorway of the office and leave.

The sound of footsteps drawing closer, though, made your palms sweat. You covered your mouth with your hand, willing the person to go away.

The boots stopped just to the side of the closet door, and you held your breath. What if it was the surgeon? You were positive you’d seen him leave for town that afternoon, but maybe he’d come back early.

The owner of he boots coughed, making you flinch. The silence made the noises of army trucks and shouts for nurses outside become amplified. For a second you thought the man had gone, but you could still see the shadow he cast through the crack in the door.

“Hey,” came a reluctant voice. Your heart pounded, knowing your hiding spot had been compromised. “Everything okay in there?”

He sounded friendlier than the surgeon, not to mention a lot younger.

You thought maybe if you stayed quiet, he would give up and walk away. Then again, even if he wasn’t the surgeon, this man would likely tell the surgeon you’d been in his office.

Instead, you tried to keep your voice business-like, determined to make it seem like you were supposed to be in there. “Oh, I’m just looking for a safety pin,” you lied, and then realized how dumb that sounded given that you were in the medical record stacks.

“In the dark?” The voice replied.

“Lightbulb burnt out,” you said quickly, and before you could do anything else the man appeared in the closet doorway, opening it wide.

You braced yourself for a reprimand, but all he did was reach over and tug the chain under the lightbulb, switching it on brightly. “There,” he said with a cocky smirk. “Seems to be working alright now.”

“Thanks,” you muttered through flushed cheeks.

“Ain’t no trouble,” he replied in a strong Northeastern accent.

No matter how badly you wanted to flee from the office, you couldn’t help but stare up at him in a bit of moonstruck awe. His boyishly handsome face was molded into a look of amused teasing, which brought a tiny smile to your lips despite your embarrassment.

“I’m Y/F/L/N,” you said, holding out your hand.

“Oh,” he looked down at it, taking it in his larger hand. “Formal handshake. Refreshing.”

You met his gaze quickly enough to cause an involuntary bashful smile creep up on your face.

He returned the smile with a beaming grin of his own, the corners of his mouth wrinkling in a most adorable way. “I’m Edward Heffron, but everyone calls me Babe.”

“Private Heffron—”

“Babe.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied, feeling a bit trapped. You tried to compose yourself, feeling his eyes give you an up and down twice over.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Babe said slowly, trying it out.

“Yes, that’s right,” you said quietly.

“That’s kind of a pretty name,” he said softly, trying to meet your eyes despite you looking away. “As a matter of fact, you’re kinda pretty yourself. How long you been here for?”

“I’ve been working at this hospital for a week or so. Though I’ve recently been reassigned to help out on the front lines, so I shouldn’t be here much longer.”

“So you’re tying to grab as much supplies as you can?” he guessed.

“Yes.”

He nodded in understanding, his smile softening.

“I mean, no,” you corrected yourself quickly, wanting to kick yourself. “I’m just looking for a safety pin. My dress has a bit of a tear at one of the seams.”

He tilted his head, looking back at the desk. “I’m no gambler, but I bet one’s likely to be in them drawers than in there,” he said, nodding to the closet and giving you a wink.

You tried to head for the door, stumbling on your way past him, feeling his gaze never leave you. “Thanks, Private Heffron, but I’m needed on the floor. I’ve been gone for too long anyway.”

“You sure you wanna leave without gettin’ that tear in ya dress fixed up?” He asked, even though you knew he could see there was no tear in the fabric at all. “Especially since you went through all that trouble, sneakin’ around in here.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering what game he was playing. Giving him another subtle stare, trying to gage his angle, you watched as he flashed you another adorably smug grin. The little flash in his eyes made it all the more obvious that he enjoyed making you flustered.

“I have more urgent duties to attend to,” you answered very matter of fact. “As do you, I assume.” You attempted to flip the attention onto him. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

You hadn’t seen him around the hospital, so you knew he wasn’t a patient, and his absence of a Red Cross armband told you he wasn’t a medic. You placed your hands on your hips, trying to appear authoritative but that only seemed to amuse him further.

“No need to get all worked up on account of me, sweetheart. My medic friend sent me to get some extra surettes to bring back to front. When I saw the door was unlocked, I decided to try my luck,” he said with another wink and a low teasing voice. “So I guess the two of us were up to the same kind of shenanigans, huh?”

For a second you relaxed, but then you realized he’d seen past your previous lie. Without another word, you reached behind the desk and handed him a small crate of surettes, throwing in handfuls of bandages as well.

“You’re an angel, Miss Y/L/N, ya really are,” he said.

“Hey Babe, come on, you’ve been gone for so long the war ended without ya,” came a joking voice from the doorway. The two of you turned to see a friendly looking man with folded arms and a bit of a five o’clock shadow.

“Cool your pants, Luz, I’m coming,” Babe said without looking at him, giving you another playful smirk. “She’s just helping me with the supplies.”

“Yeah?” Luz shook his head. “Keep on looking at her like that and your eyes will pop out of your head.”

You blushed and Babe glared at his friend. “Ah, cut it out, will ya Luz? Can’t you see you’ve got her all embarrassed now?”

With an affectionate tap on your shoulder and one last smile, Babe moved away to join Luz at the door.

He paused and looked back at you. “Hey Miss Y/L/N, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m looking forward to seeing you out on the line.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I wish it were under different circumstances, but if you manage to find your way to the front, my foxhole’s always open,” he said before disappearing around the corner.

From the hallway, you could hear Luz giving him a hard time, followed by Heffron saying, “Yeah but did you see her? I’d step on a thousand grenades if it meant she’d take care of me.”

You just shook your head and gathered the rest of your supplies, sure to close the door behind you. Maybe you’d visit this Babe Heffron after all, that is, if he was still alive by the time you made it there.

Still, you had a feeling you hadn’t seen the last of him.

#band of brothers #hboshow #easy company #babe heffron x reader #babe heffron #imagine #request

[southern-jellybean]

Call of the Void | Closed

It was like a switch had flipped inside his head from Baron to Assassin. Grenades, bullets, smoke bombs, the sound of a scream and a blade buried in flesh before leaving a bloody trail as it was pulled out only to be jammed back in some other place on it’s victim.

An all out firefight was new to Baron but he went into it feeling prepared and prepared he was, more so than his opposition. Usually he slipped in quiet, unsuspected and undetected, an ‘infiltrator’. Not this time. This time things were loud, messy and the assassin flourished in the chaos. Bullets ricocheting off walls and whizzing past his ears did nothing to slow him down. It had been a nice looking manor house but now it had become a battle ground. The man who took Phaesal, who was the whole reason they met, was Eduardo D’antonio, a big shot for the Italian mob. He had been the one drugging and abusing Phaesal when he and Baron first met. They’d tried to shoot the dancer and when he survived Eduardo must have decided he simply wanted Phaesal to himself. He wasn’t keeping him though if Baron had anything to say about it. It took days to gather information after getting his likeness off a grainy security camera in the strip club. Baron had to once again separate himself from his humanity, from the part that didn’t like to see people suffer. He carved a path through many for what he needed and when he finally got to the manor house the man he’d tried so hard to leave behind made a reappearance. 

Eduardo D’antonio was watching the carnage on his security screens as Baron fought his way to the master bedroom where he assumed his fiance was being held. Coming up to the double doors of the bedroom Baron stood in front of them, constructing a plan. As his eyes swept over the wood he spotted a camera to the left of the door on the ceiling. He looked at it before walking over getting as close as he could. His face was spattered with blood that obviously wasn’t his. He wore tactical gear and a bullet proof vest. Taking off his helmet he looked into the lens, eyes oddly empty, face dead pan like Baron wasn’t even home. He pulled a canister out of his vest and pulled the pin. White smoke started to spill from the grenade looking device beginning to engulf everything in view. Baron held up a hand before curling his fingers in an eerie wave. It was only a beat or two later that he was lost in the smoke.

Eduardo turned towards the door, pointing his AA12 at it. There was a long pause in which no noise could be heard except the hiss of the canister still spewing smoke. All of a sudden the doors blew open sending splinter everywhere and in that split second Eduardo covered his face Baron was on him. Kicking the gun out of his hands and then against the wall. Eduardo was taller than Baron but he was also older and with Baron’s past and being hopped up on revenge Eduardo didn’t stand a chance. Slowly Baron beat him down, toying with the older man until finally he had Eduardo on the ground. He’d end this just like he’d ended it with Dmitri. Standing over Eduardo Baron took the mobster’s face in his hands. Baron said something to him, speaking pointedly in Russian before.... The screaming. Oh god, the screaming. That kind of high pitched scream everyone is capable of when they’re panicked and in enough pain. That’s the kind of scream Baron earned from Eduardo as he slowly sunk his thumbs into the gangster’s eyeballs. Eduardo’s scream got higher, the squelch of blood and vitreous  fluid was so horrifically satisfying Baron found himself shuddering at the feeling as it spilled out over his hands. Eduardo clawed at Baron blindly in a last ditch effort of self preservation before going rigid momentarily as Baron’s fingers met the back of his eye sockets, and then finally limp. Baron finally let the mobster’s head fall to the floor. Straightening up slowly he moved over to the security screens. Using his knuckles and palms so as not to leave fingerprints he deleted the last twenty minutes of footage leaving the controls covered in blood. He then slowly turned to a panting Phaesal who laid handcuffed to the over-sized bed of Baron’s last target. 

#tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: eye trauma #tw: eye gouging #;thread: call of the void #;inter; baron x phaesal

[glasswingsndreamz]

Jealousy Only Breeds More Jealousy (5)

Fandom: The Outer Worlds

Pairing: Felix Millstone x Reader

AO3 Link

Summary: You and Felix finally get to act out what you've both been waiting for.

NSFW

If the tension between you and Felix wasn’t obvious before, it certainly was now. It was practically tangible, electrifying the room. Which made it that much easier to get the rest of your crewmates out of the Unreliable when you stopped at Groundbreaker for a well deserved break.

You didn’t waste any time at all getting Felix into your room.

The confidence and excitement that had taken over earlier faded as soon as it really hit you that you were alone with Felix and this time no one would interrupt. Sure you had other experiences within the week, exploring the new relationship and enjoying the way his lips felt on yours when you had short moments of privacy.

“Are you sure you still want to do this with me?” you asked nervously.

“I’m pretty sure I should be the one asking you that,” Felix said.

“I want you, Felix.”

He inhaled sharply, the words alone making him grow stiff in his pants.

You looked so serious and the way you spoke left no room for questioning. It was clear you knew what you wanted. He just still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you wanted him of all people. He was sure you could have anyone else you wanted. After all he could easily picture you as the type who could easily seduce anyone into your bed. With that golden tongue of yours that you utilized often during missions. It was the hottest thing when your personality switched to serious and confident as if you didn’t give a fuck about what anyone else said or did, with the exception of your crew.

It made his heart flutter knowing that he mattered to you, that you genuinely cared about what he thought and wanted his input.

“Good because I want you too,” he said, mind racing with all the possibilities he could act out right now. What would be the best in this situation? After all it would be your first time together and oh boy did he have plans to make it memorable for the both of you.

He had imagined quite a few positions he’d love to take you in. His absolute favorite were the fantasies when you rode him. When you began to slow down he’d come back with a surprise, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you brutally. There were several expressions he imagined you’d make when you came around his cock. With your nose scrunched up cutely and mouth parted as you reached your orgasm. The ones that made him finish the quickest were when he pictured you staring down at him with pure desire and love.

It was probably best that you took the lead in the end, gently pressing your lips against his. It was soft, as if you were still questioning whether or not he wanted to take things further. Felix was quick to reassure you.

His hands instinctively fell to your waist as he eagerly returned the kiss. With his body pressing against yours, you could easily feel how excited he was. Your mouth watered at the thought of feeling his cock pressing inside you instead.

“Please,” your words were muffled between kisses as you tugged on his clothes. “Take this off.”

“Wow you really do want me badly, huh?” Felix teased as he began pulling off his clothes. “Well I can’t say no to you, Boss.”

“You can call me by my actual name. I think we’re well past using titles,” you said, watching as he stripped down to his underwear.

“How about next time you call me boss instead. That’d be pretty hot don’t ya think?” Felix suggested, growing interested in the idea. He’d definitely like to try that out in the near future as long as you were okay with it too.

“You’re really thinking ahead aren’t you,” you smiled at the idea of there being more than just one time. That there would be more to come.

“Is that alright? I’d like to do this more than once,” Felix said admittedly.

“Yes, please. We better get a head start now then,” you suggested before beginning to remove your own clothes. Felix was more than happy to assist, helping you pull your top over your head.

“Fuck,” Felix openly stared at your body as you stripped down to your underwear. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, moving to pull him in for another kiss. That was all the confirmation he needed to start letting his hands wander up and down your body. They lingered especially on your chest, giving you a squeeze which drew a soft moan from you.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth when his hands slid around to grab your ass. “You’re fucking perfect,” he said before pressing a kiss against your neck. The sweet noise you made in response had him grinding against you, the palms of his hands pressing against your ass to push you up against him. It was overwhelming just thinking about the fact that there was barely anything left between your bodies.

He was practically a mess by the time you slowly managed to pull him towards your bed. However, he was clear-headed enough to voice his protests when you gently pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top so you straddled him. Well he would have protested if you hadn’t effectively shut him up with another long kiss. More than anything he wanted to take his time, lavishing your entire body with kisses. Fuck he wanted to spend hours just between your legs, tasting and teasing you with his mouth.

He decided, when you began stroking him through his underwear, that maybe he could wait a little bit before doing that. Instead he return the sentiment, slipping his hand between your thighs.

It was a little difficult from the angle he was at, especially with your own hand in the way, but somehow he managed to slide his fingers past your underwear. For a moment he pulled back from kissing you, determined to watch your face as he traced a finger along your slit before dipping between your folds.

“Felix!” you gasped, freezing at the sudden intrusion.

“Yeah? You like that?” he asked, feeling rather smug at your reaction as he stroked your inner labia. “Fuck you’re really wet.”

You gave his dick a squeeze in response, rubbing him harder.

“Tell me if you need to stop and I will,” Felix promised, hesitating a moment to allow you the chance to reject him before prodding around for your entrance and pushing a single finger inside. It was a struggle to really push in far with the way your underwear managed to get in the way. He did his best, curling his middle finger up into you the best he could.

For a moment he was worried that it had been too much when you stopped to get off him. His concern was quickly put at ease when you pulled your underwear down your thighs. To his absolute delight, he noticed the large wet spot that had formed on your underwear due to the arousal dripping between your legs. Without his consent his dick twitched at the sight, most likely staining the inside of his own underwear with the precum that leaked from his tip. As much as he wanted to tear off the remaining clothes that kept him restrained, he decided it would probably be best to wait just a little while longer. In reality he waited too long to get them off, instead taking the time to stare at your bare body until you finally got back on top of him, hips hovering directly over his own arousal that pressed tightly against the fabric of his boxers. Felix didn’t hesitate to plunge his middle finger back up into your cunt.

Instantaneously you were rewarded for your efforts as he pushed his finger in down to the knuckle. You let out a low moan when he pulled it out only to press back inside and curl it. It went on like that for a while, the two of you pleasuring each other with nothing but your hands. It took only a few suggestions from you for Felix to improve his technique and really have an effect on you.

In the end you couldn’t be sure who became more impatient to move on.

Perhaps it was you, desperate for more when you pulled down his boxers to fully access his dick. You didn’t get a chance to really take the sight of him in, instead eyes closed as you focused on the way he felt and the way his mouth moved against yours.

It easily could have been Felix as well with how eagerly he kissed and fingered you. Before you knew it he was adding a second finger. There was barely any pain from the small stretch and soon he was thrusting them inside just as quickly as before. Each curl of his fingers brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Felix,” you tried to warn, breaking away from his lips. You were barely able to get the words out before the coil tightening in your stomach burst and you came with a moan.

“Holy shit did you just cum?” Felix asked, equally delighted and surprised.

“Yes, so now I’m pretty sure it’s your turn,” you answered while attempting to catch your breath.

Felix was fast to take advantage of your vulnerable state, flipping you over so that you were the one now pinned beneath him.

“Oh, no, I’m not done with you yet,” he said. Fuck he hoped that had the intended effect on you.

It was hard not to smile at the way he said it, as if mimicking something he heard from some kind of cheesy porno. The amusement left your face when he took a moment to remove his boxers completely.

This time you really took the time to admire his body. He had already been decently toned from his previous job. He’d certainly gained more muscle mass after joining the crew. It made sense considering one of the main weapons you gave him was a grenade launcher. He really must have gained muscle hauling that around while running from pissed off mantisaurs.

“Please come fuck me now,” you blurted out before covering your mouth. At least it earned a pleased grin from Felix.

“Anything for you,” he said before returning to his place above you. “You good to go, boss?” he asked once he used a hand to position himself at your entrance. It was difficult to get out an answer when he began rubbing the head of his dick against your slit.

“Yes, yes, please-!” you cut yourself off, moaning as he slowly pushed inside. Without meaning to, you held your breath while digging your nails into the sheets on the bed. Even with the preparation, he was still a bit of a stretch. If it hadn’t warmed you up earlier it might have been more painful.

Felix could hardly hold back. You felt so tight and wet and so so so fucking perfect around him that he couldn’t help himself from bottoming out almost immediately, pushing inside faster than he probably should have. However you made no noise to protest, to tell him to stop and that you never wanted to see him again. That was a good sign.

He did feel bad when he noticed the way you seemed to be holding your breath and trying to concentrate on anything but the pain. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your lips in an attempt to distract you. It seemed to work well enough, as your body slowly began to relax as you kissed him back. It wasn’t long before you were urging him on with a roll of your hips up against him. That had him biting down on his lip to keep from crying out at the sudden movement.

He began slowly, desperate to last long enough to make you cum a second time before he finished.

However, that did not last very long. Not with the way you clenched around his dick.

“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned as he found a good rythm. He wrapped his arms around you tightly in an attempt to ground himself as he bucked into you.

It was getting a lot easier to handle with each stroke. It made it even easier to ignore the stretch when you pulled him into another kiss. It felt like heaven, being even more connected when your tongue brushed against his. Soon enough he was pulling back to press open mouthed kisses along your neck.

You did your best to move your hips up to meet him, biting down on your lip to keep from making any noise. One particularly hard thrust made you gasp.

“Felix!” you moaned out his name.

Just hearing the way you said it had a strong effect on him than he would have liked. Already he could feel himself reaching his limit.

“Fuck- please,” he moaned before slipping his hand between your bodies. Desperate to make you cum one more time before he finished, he rubbed at your clit. Mentally he begged for you to finish too. More than anything he wanted you to come around his cock.

“Please,” his voice hitched when he said your name. “Please, please cum.”

It really helped bring you close, the way he furiously rubbed at your clit. Hearing him say your name was enough to push you over the edge. Felix could have cried with pure joy when he felt you squeezing impossibly hard around his cock. He was able to thrust inside two more times before spilling out deep inside.

Felix was panting heavily when he finally pulled out and rolled onto his side next to you on the bed. He couldn’t even try to force the smile off his face as he admired you.

“You’re so fucking perfect. I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said, leaning in for another kiss which you eagerly returned.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. I absolutely adore you,” you smiled back at him.

You couldn’t wait to tell Nyoka the good news.

#felix millstone #the outer worlds

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Invincible [Chapter Fourteen] In Horseshoes and Hand Grenades [Katsuki Bakugou]

Focus on the stream. Here it flow gently down the riverbed; slow and soothing. I tell myself these words, hoping to find some peace in them. The water on the far end of the field seems so distant with the noise around me, hissing like static in my ears. I certainly can’t meditate with it bothering me like this. Explosions shake the earth until I can no longer ignore them.

I squeeze one eye open and find the blond responsible for the high-pitched racket. He’s near the tree line, shooting off his quirk in measured successions. This is only my second morning training with him, and already he’s interrupting mine. He’s been pushing himself to withstand more of his quirk’s restrictions since we started, but even he needs the rest. Maybe then I can clear my mind in silence.

“Hey, rocket man. Take a break and come meditate with me,” I shout at him.

The blond turns and flips me off, but I continue to call for him until he decides to listen, running over to me with a scowl on his face. I pat the spot behind me, and he sits with a grunt.

“Sit with me a minute, then you can go back to whatever it was you were doing. A small break won’t hurt you,” I say while leaning my head back onto his arm.

I can hear the rapid sound of his breathing, and use it to focus on. Katsuki remains silent, but I don’t mind. The weather is absolutely perfect; the right amount of sun and a gentle breeze nearly put me to sleep. I moan in happiness, but my peaceful morning doesn’t last.

Katsuki wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my hair. “Fight with me,” he orders. I know better than to believe that he means it as a harmless spar.

I hum in annoyance, opening my eyes. The sun makes me groan in discomfort, so I sit up and move away from Katsuki. A frown pulls at the corner of my lips as I notice that he’s serious.

“I can’t beat you in a fight,” I admit.

Katsuki agrees with me. “No, but I won’t be satisfied until I get to train with at least one live opponent. Sucks that it has to be you, because I’m not going to take it easy on you.”

I am still unsure about this. Katsuki is a tough adversary. He’s not going to be easy to beat, and even if I do manage to punch him, the blond is going to hit me back just as hard. I shake my head in disagreement, but I doubt he’ll listen.

“Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? I’ll make a deal with you. If you can beat me, I’ll give you that damn kiss you asked about yesterday; the tongue kiss. Will that satisfy you?”

I continue to disagree. “That’s asking too much of me. I want to kiss you that way, but I can’t beat you.”

“I’ll determine what qualifies as passing,” he offers.

It’s a generous offer; a one of a kind offer. But, I also feel like Katsuki might give me the kiss even if I don’t fight him. I’m not dumb; I know he’s trying to bribe me. This might not be so bad, but I’m going to propose an offer of my own to increase my chances.

“I’ll agree to indulge you if you promise not to use your quirk on me,” I say with a timid smile.

Katsuki doesn’t agree with me like I had expected, but he does stand and motion for me to follow him. I do so, allowing him to lead me across the open expanse of the field. We stop about 5 meters from the stream and put some distance between one another. I stand and stare awkwardly as Katsuki begins to stretch, working his arms and shoulders around in small circles. I have no way of knowing how this fight will turn out, or how I will beat him; Katsuki is both stronger and bigger than me. He won’t pull his punches, so I just need to avoid them, if at all possible.

I clutch my hands into a fist and raise them in front of my face. This should keep him from striking me in the head, and if I get the chance to throw a punch, I can do so without altering my stance much. I’m ready for this, but the blond only stares at me and waits. I wonder if he’s looking for a weakness. I do my best to keep calm and not give him one.

“Last years sports festival – I know you watched it. Did you study the competitors? I followed each of their quirks; weaknesses and strengths. One thing stood out to me, something I know will break you. Do you know what it was?”

I drop my guard only a little. Something that will break me. I noticed nothing out of the ordinary; the competitors all looked the same, but their quirks were amazing. The top 5 blew away the competition, and each of them had began in a high rank class. Other than this, I have no idea. My eyes widen; it’s a distraction.

Katsuki closes the gap between us, throwing his right fist at me. I yelp in surprise and manage to dodge it before he strikes me in the head. However, his right hand catches my arm and pulls me forward. I lose my balance for a second and fall against his chest. He uses this as a chance to slam his forehead into mine, inciting a cry of pain from me. It hurts to bad, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I pull my arm from his hold, and push away from him.

Tears pour from my eyes and float in front of me. I’m so angry that my quirk is hard to control. “The hell did you do that for?”

He ignores me and throws another right-handed punch. I once again dodge it and put distance between us. He won’t catch me again. I won’t allow him to tear me apart, piece by piece.

“Answer the damn question,” Katsuki hisses at me. He doesn’t seem to be angry, but his eyebrows are drawn together in a permanent scowl.

I don’t know what he wants me to say. My thoughts are jumbled, trying to answer his question and think of a way to beat him. If he’s doing this to get the upper hand, it’s not fair. I bite into my lip, and growl in annoyance. This game won’t end with him defeating me.

Katsuki runs the distance between us once again. However, he doesn’t throw a punch this time. His left knee makes contact with my side, knocking me to the ground. I didn’t expect this. My breath leaves me as I sputter and cough.

“The answer is fairness. Each of the contestants have to leave their gear behind and compete as equals. For someone who relies on sources to activate their quirk you’re at a major disadvantage,” Katsuki explains.

My heart hammers in my chest. He’s right; I can’t win. How do I expect to prove myself to the talent scouts if I can’t use my quirk? I feel so annoyed and defeated.

“Why help me then?” My voice sounds like a whisper, and I fear Katsuki may not hear me. He does, however.

“Get back on your feet,” he orders me. “All you’ve been doing since we started is dodge my attacks. You’re not trying to fight back, and that’s why I’m going to beat your ass.” The blonde moves to stand in front of me. He growls in annoyance before continuing. “Don’t think of this as a compliment, but you’re much faster and more agile than you appear. You have years of track and gymnastics under your belt, so instead of letting those skills go to waste, I suggest you pick your ass up and use them.”

Katsuki grabs my arm when I don’t listen, pulling me onto my feet despite my pleas for him to stop. He swings me around and locks his arm around my torso. His strong grip squeezes me. It’s hard to breath like this, but the blond doesn’t seem care.

“How are you going to get out of this?”

I struggle against him. “I-I don’t know. You’re too strong.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” he hisses in my ear. “I may be stronger than you, but with enough momentum you could easily knock me off balance. A hero never bails out on a fight, and they never give up.”

How am I suppose to do this? I don’t have enough room to move, and even if I did there’s no way I can do as exactly as he asks. It’s not fair; I don’t have a reason to believe in myself. How can I say this about myself? It’s not entirely true.

I do have a reason. He’s standing behind me, trying to guide me through this. I’ve had millions in my life supporting me; my parents, close friends, and coaches. My eyes widen as an idea comes to mind. I think this might be what Katsuki is trying to explain to me.

I lean my body forward just a bit, and use my arm to swing my elbow back. It connects with Katsuki’s head, causing him to loosen his grip. I wrap one arm around his neck and the other around his upper arm. This reminds me of practicing on the rings in gymnastics; it all depends on my upper body strength. I use Katsuki as a support and lift my lower body into the air, bending me at the waist where my knees are nearly touching my face. My legs kick out with enough force to pull me out of Katsuki’s grip, but with my arms wrapped around his neck and arm, the momentum sends him over my shoulder and onto the grassy earth in a heap. I fall onto my knees with a huff, and watch quietly as the blonde pulls himself into a sitting position.

He turns and looks at me with his eyes wide, holding his ear. My elbow must have struck it. “Are you fucking joking me? You went for the ear, and imbalanced me. Have you been jerking me around this entire time?”

I laugh at how stupid he sounds. It’s a lucky shot. However, I will remember the move next time. It works like a charm, but I doubt Katsuki will be dumb enough to let me do it again.

Katsuki stands to his feet, licking at his lips. His eyes are wild, almost like a fire is lit inside him. “You’re going to die for that.”

He makes an attempt to strike at me before I have time to get off the ground, but I manage to avoid it and grab his arm, unlike last time. I pull him forward with the force of his swing, and bring my body into a flip. My legs wrap around his neck as my lower back lands on the ground. He is send into another roll and lands on his back with my legs still around his neck. I keep his arm in a hold until I feel something hot burn my upper thigh; a small explosion sends my leg into a world of hurt.

I release the blond, and roll onto my side. “The hell was that for?”

He smirks and sits up, curling his fingers. Tiny explosions pop and sizzle from his palm, sending wisps of smoke into the air. I should have known he wouldn’t listen. This makes me so mad. My body tingles with an unknown feeling, but somehow I recognize it. I remember feeling this years ago; the fight in middle school.

My ears pick up the sound of water bubbling from the stream. It splashes wildly in the riverbed, calling me like the song of a siren. I jerk to my feet, despite the pain and chase after the tune. Katsuki pursues me; he’s so close. However, I make it in time to activate my quirk. My hands motion the liquid into a wave that crashes into Katsuki and knocks him back. It swirls around me in thick sporadic ribbons.

The blond stands, and rushes me again. His quirk propels him closer to me, but I shoot at him, using the water in the form of small bullets. It does no good, however. He dodges them until he’s close enough to swing at me. I do the only thing I can, and form a shield between us. Katsuki hits it full force, and the explosion knocks me back into the riverbed. I am too exhausted to fight back; I decide to give up.

“Please stop,” I beg. “I’ve had enough.”

My head leans against the muddy bank of the riverbed. The water is so cold. I follow the blond with my eyes as he splashes through the stream, making his way over to me. He grabs my arm and pulls me out, throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I stare at the earth as he carries me back to our current location.

“You beat me,” I admit in a whisper.

Katsuki eases me off his shoulder and sits me on the ground. He tosses me a bottle of water, and takes the spot beside me. “You gave up, like a coward. Those tosses and holds were pretty damn useful, but you have a long way to go before I pass you. Next time, I’m going to drag you back onto your feet and give you a reason to complain.”

Next time, he says. He’s going to continue training me. My heart swells at this. I lean my head back onto the ground and sigh. A gentle smile pulls at the corner of my lips, even though I should feel upset with my loss.

“The hell are you smiling about? I swear you’re so fucking weird.”

I laugh at this. “I’m just happy is all. I almost had you until you cheated.”

“Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” the blond retorts with a glare. He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Even without my quirk I could have beat your ass into submission.”

“I’d certainly hope so,” I taunt with a wink.

Katsuki seems to pick up on the lewd meaning and kicks me with his foot. “Stop being a pervert, or you’re walking home on your own.”

I beg him not to do such a thing; I want him to carry me. He can be so mean to me sometimes. I wrap my arms around his leg and pout, but all he does is try to swat me off. Teasing him is so much fun. An idea pops into my head, making me bust out into a coy smile. I pull myself up from the grassy field, and move onto his lap while slipping my arms around his neck. He’s so warm; a satisfied moan leaves me.

“You got me wet, Katsuki.”

The blond shoots me a glare and tries to pry my arms off him. “The hell did I say about being a pervert? You need to stop reading those shitty fan service magazines. How the hell do you even buy those being a minor?”

His cheeks and ears are dusted in a light pink. I can’t help but to laugh even harder. What would I do without him? I’m very grateful for his help; back then and even now. We’re going to soar through this festival with one another’s help.

The remaining weeks before the chosen date we spend together, training ourselves. I forget all about my quirk for now and focus on strengthening my mind. By the time the sports festival comes around, I am ready to face it. I plan to make the most out of my life, and uphold the promises I had made to myself to stand beside Katsuki on his dream to becoming a hero.

I owe him this much anyway.

#katsuki bakugō #my hero academia #oc #romance #teasing

[asidian]

Week 14: Crawl

February 28, 2038

The room is bathed in harsh white light from the caged bulbs that dangle overhead, and the thrum of machinery almost sounds like the beating of a heart. There’s a surveillance camera in the corner, but cutting the wire was their very first order of business, so it's not surveilling a whole lot of anything anymore.

They’re in the clear.

The floor's black tile, and there are no windows; the air holds an uncomfortable chill. There's only the one computer, projecting its hologram display into midair. Xia is bent over it, frowning at the readouts, but Jacob isn't paying them as much attention as they deserve.

He keeps glancing away, toward the open-topped glass case that's standing less than five feet behind them.

"Room settings," says Xia. "Temp controls, overhead lights."

"What," says Jacob, "they got alien mood lighting or something?" 

He doesn't take his eyes off the creature in the glass case. It looks like a formless blob, dormant and benign, all its countless eyes closed. It resembles nothing so much as a three-dimensional black oil slick that occasionally pulses or twitches.

"Check it out," says Xia, and the lights shift to deep, blood red, a sickly shade that spills over the whole room. 

"Great," says Jacob. "Cool. Feels like those things're fixing to break through the clouds any second now."

In the glass case, the creature shifts slightly. A limb peels free from its side and then rejoins the central mass. It does not move again.

"Jackpot," says Xia, suddenly — tone bright with victory — and Jacob turns to look.

There up on the screen is the 3D projection of a a grenade — model 6453ix, the kind in Nemesis' launchers — and a series of stats scrolling down the side. 

Damage effectiveness: average. Damage permanence: extremely reduced. Reaction: negative. Recollection: high.

Xia flips the page, and a force blast device shows up on the screen, the kind that Chroma's sniper used to have before her suit got trashed. Next up are Hurricane's blades, and Justice's sideguns, and on, and on.

"Guess we know why they kept the thing," says Jacob, voice low.

"Yeah," says Xia. "They musta been testing its regen the whole time."

The holo-projection keeps going, as Xia scrolls through: past an electro-shock device that's still in testing, and Sandstorm's laser axe, and Sentinel's stun bolts.

There's a soft squishing sound behind them, as the creature shifts again in its tank.

The next weapon on the screen is something that Jacob doesn't recognize.

Model 9873ig, it's labeled, and it looks like a small box with a circle imprinted on the front. The stats scroll down the side: highly effective, in every category.

"Yeah," says Jacob, "but what's it do?"

Xia keeps scrolling, down past the stats, to the chunk of text underneath. It's classified as a sonic weapon, designed to scramble the harbingers' mental patterns and incapacitate their ability to project disruptions. It sounds good. It sounds great, actually. Which is why he doesn't get it when they reach the bottom and find the flashing red text that reads PROJECT: DISCONTINUED.

"What gives?" says Jacob, frowning.

He's skimmed through most of it already, but he skips back up again and starts to read in earnest.

"Wasn't stable," says Xia. "That sucks."

"Jesus," says Jacob, still reading. "Three casualties?"

He shares a glance with Xia; her eyebrows are drawn down, mouth curved into a frown.

"How the hell didn't we hear about this?"

Jacob looks back up at the holo-display — keeps reading, eyes flying over the words. And suddenly, he knows.

"We did," he croaks. "Check out the date."

It's up there, right next to all the other specs: date of trial. January 15, 2038.

It's the day Chroma crashed and burned. Three suits, wrecked beyond repair. Three pilots killed, and the rest of the team in the hospital. It had been all over the news.

Every report had said that the harbingers' disruptions had just been too loud that day — those whispers in the back of their minds a little too much. The mental break was a tragedy, and the resulting deaths an even worse one.

But the test results are hovering up in the air, clear as day: model 9873ig, responsible for the same number of deaths, on the same date. Jacob keeps reading, and reading, and sure enough, there it is — the monetary value of the damages done, calling out Chroma's suits by name.

He kind of wants to puke. The red light's giving him a headache.

Behind him, there's a squish as the creature shifts again, but Jacob doesn't turn to look. He feels frozen in place, incapable of moving.

"This," says Jacob. "They."

"They covered it up," says Xia, voice tight.

Jacob opens his mouth to respond, not entirely sure what he means to say. He never finds out, because that's when he feels a touch, almost gentle, against his left leg. 

When he looks down, his brain won't quite process what it's seeing for a second. 

The creature has crawled out of its enclosure. Its eyes are open, dozens and dozens of them, liquid black. Its wings beat weakly at the air, gaunt and gangly things. A mouth opens along the side of it, and another along the back, revealing rows upon rows of gleaming white teeth, and where its tendril brushes, the fabric of Jacob's flight suit dissolves and begins to melt away like cotton candy in water.

He yelps and jerks backward — falls against Xia, who says, "What the hell?"

He can tell when she catches sight of it, by the sharp inhale that follows — by the way her hands catch at his shoulder, to haul him out of range.

"When did it get out?!" she says.

"I don't know," says Jacob. "I was looking at the readouts!"

The creature crawls forward across the floor. A limb extends from inside of it, and then another, long and spindly, black like fresh asphalt. Everywhere it touches, the title is eaten away, a bit at a time.

The backdrop behind the text on the holo-display flashes red. A woman’s voice, calm and pre-recorded, says, “Time limit exceeded. Return subject to enclosure or assure personnel security.”

The creature levers itself up — flaps harder, and lists into the air.

Jacob reaches to eject his blades from their wrist mounts, by instinct, but his suit’s half a building away, in the hangar, and the blades are with it.

“Go,” says Xia, and shoves him toward the vent they came through.

“Dude,” says Jacob, “The lights.”

“Go,” says Xia again, and hauls him away by the arm.

The woman’s voice speaks again, calm and flat. “Subject displays signs of agitation. Engage shields or begin sedation immediately.”

There’s no time to go. 

The creature makes an odd, prolonged hissing noise, like steam escaping; a thin black tendril slips from the glistening surface of its flesh and whips toward Jacob, wrapping around his ankle.

Pain shoots through him, sharp and bright and sudden; he yelps and goes down, smacking hard against the tile. In the back of his mind, those hushed whispers begin, the nightmare words that sound too much like what he tells himself late at night, lying in his bunk bed when sleep won’t come. 

He shoves them down and away, like he always does — just has time to think, frantically, that they should have come armed, borrowed something from R&D. They’re gonna die here, and that’s how they’ll go down in history, the only Tenno pilots to ever bite it in the biotech wing. 

Then Xia’s there, gloved hands curled around the metal pole that was holding a boatload of wires aloft for the banks of monitors along the wall, and she’s swinging it like a baseball bat, straight at the creature. The metal connects with the black flesh, and the creature screeches and ripples; its tendril withdraws from his ankle, and the voices withdraw from his mind.

Xia hits it again, and again; the impact against the floor sounds loud enough to break the universe.

There are voices outside in the corridor now, tense and alert, and Xia drops the metal pole to let it clatter on the floor.

She holds a hand out to Jacob, and he grabs hold and hauls himself to his feet.

This time, she doesn’t have to tell him to get moving. She dives for the vent, and he’s just a second behind, pulling it into place after him. He can hear the beeping of the door’s security panel as someone punches in the access code, then the whoosh of the door sliding open. Shouts of alarm follow immediately. "Security!" a man is saying. "I need security in here right now!"

It’s twenty seconds before the gunfire starts, a rapid staccato that sounds like a machine gun echoing out behind them.

Jacob ducks his head and keeps going, hardly daring to breathe. Ahead of him, Xia rounds a corner in the vents and he turns to follow. His ankle burns, sharp and throbbing; the metal under his palms seems to make far, far too much noise as they pass.

They crawl, and crawl, and crawl; they can’t hear anything behind them anymore, but they left the screen as they’d set it, light settings and temp settings and the damning evidence of what had happened to Chroma. They have maybe minutes before the commotion calms down enough for security to realize the only way in was the vents.

“Here,” says Jacob, as they pass another offshoot. “Here, turn.”

Xia does — takes a hard left away from biotech and into R&D. They know the way to Yoshioka’s lab like the back of their hands, and half a minute later, Xia hauls aside a ceiling panel and they drop down onto the metal table one at a time, then slide it back into place.

Jacob strains his ears for sounds of pursuit — catches nothing. Beside him, Xia’s eyes are wide and a little wild, glasses askew, a smudge of dust streaked along one cheek bone.

He catches her gaze for a minute and holds it — reads in her expression the not-quite panic that’s charging through his mind like the rogue robot in some sci-fi thriller.

Move, Jacob tells himself, and forces his feet to take one step, and then another. His ankle still burns, but it holds his weight, and that’s the important thing.

“Hey,” he manages, voice shaky and kind of strange. “Only in trouble if we get caught. Right?”

Xia opens her mouth, like she’s searching for the words. Then she nods, tight. 

“Yeah,” she says. “So come on already.” She hauls open the door into the hallway. “Let’s not get caught.”

#jacob cross #Xia Igarashi #my ocs #the way the world ends

[jessiejunebug]

The Younger Sister - Chapter 7

So I just wanted to warn you this this chapter has angst. Sorry. It is also a bit more graphic than past chapters, but mostly just blood.

MASTERLIST 

Chapter 7 - The Battle of New York 

After her fight with Loki, Astrid returned to the main deck and stood in front of the large glass windows, overlooking the clear, blue sky. White puffy clouds were scattered across the peaceful sky. But the peacefulness of the view before her did not calm her inner turmoil.

She regretted what she said as soon as she left the room and she wished that she could take back what she said, but she knew that was impossible. If he didn’t hate her before, he certainly did now.

Thor had come to see how she was after her talk with Loki, but she waved him away, telling him that she was fine.

“I watched the footage, Astrid,” he told her quietly.

Astrid closed her eyes and looked away. “I’m fine,” she reiterated firmly.

She saw in Thor’s eyes that he didn’t believe her, but he nodded and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder before he walked away.

The background chatter of the people at their desks, tapping away on their keyboards and relaying information that Astrid did not understand, irritated her slightly. All those people moved on as if nothing had happened. She felt a few of their eyes on her, but she ignored them.

She did not know how long she stayed before that window, before she heard an explosion and felt the ship shift sharply to one side, sending her reeling to catch her balance.

She whipped around as she saw some workers scattering away while others starting tapping furiously on their screens and keyboards.

She summoned a dagger into her hand quickly, calmed by its reassuring weight in her palm. Her mind cleared as she surveyed the room around her, checking that everyone was alright, before heading towards the door. She had to find Thor and the others.

Fury came running in the room, demanding status of the carrier. Astrid turned towards him. “What happened?” she demanded.

“We lost power in one of the engines. Stark and the Captain are dealing with it,” he reassured her, while looking at multiple screens at once.

Astrid nodded in response. “I’m going to find Thor,” she stated before turning towards the exit when she noticed a small cylindrical object was thrown into the room.

“Grenade!” a woman shouted. Astrid had a feeling she knew what it would do. And there was a scrawny man standing right next to it.

She acted before she knew it. Astrid lunged towards the man, knocking into him as the object blew up. The force of the blast pushed Astrid forward, knocking the man onto the ground and she ended up in a crouch over the man, shielding him from the heat and force of the blast.

After the ringing stopped in her ears, Astrid looked over her shoulder to make sure it was safe, before looking down at the man again. “Are you okay?”

His frightened gaze locked with hers and he nodded slowly, eyes wide with fear.

“Good,” Astrid said, rolling her shoulders to release the small amount of discomfort she felt from the weapon blowing up right behind her.

She stood up to see that many people were still on the ground when she heard the firing of more weapons. She looked up to see men flood into the room and heard some of the workers behind her begin to return fire.

She summoned another dagger and twirled them once in her hands before running forward, dodging bullets along the way, to cut her way through the men. She heard a few shouts of surprise before weapons were pointed her way. Astrid lunged forward into a front flip to land next to a surprised enemy. Before he could aim towards her, she had already sliced the back of his calf, sending him to the ground. A quick stab with her dagger finished the job.

She turned quickly, seeing the end of a weapon coming towards her face. She twisted away, making her daggers disappear, before grabbing the weapon in her hand and twisting it out of the man’s grasp. She threw it to the ground and twisted his arm behind his back, hearing a snap and the man cry out. She kicked the back of his knee, forcing him to the ground before a quick blow to the back of this head put him out.

As she let him slump to the ground, she looked over to see how the mortals were doing. Most were shooting back at the men that were slowly coming from down the hallway. She quickly headed that way, coming face to face with more men. With a few quick jabs and slices from her daggers, the remaining men in the hallway were also down.

Astrid walked back onto the ship’s deck to see some of the people looking awestruck. She glanced at them in a confused way, before turning to Fury and his second in command, Maria, who had some blood dripping down from her temple. When she opened her mouth to speak, an explosion across the room made her flinch and shy away. A few moments later, another explosion towards the middle went off.

With a quick glance upwards, she saw a man with a bow firing explosive arrows towards the people. He fired a third arrow that landed on one of the devices that they called “computers”, and a moment later, most of the screens around her went dark. Fury started shooting back towards him and he ducked out of the way, leaving now that he had accomplished what he wanted.

A red alert came up on one of the screens. Malfunction: Engine 1 Power Loss.

Astrid watched as the remaining screens faded to black, before she felt the ship tip drastically to one side as two engines failed. She grabbed onto a railing beside her to keep herself up as people started sliding towards one side of the ship.

Only a few moments later, the ship started to right itself, allowing Astrid to let go of the metal rail.

“Stark must have gotten the other engine working,” Fury stated, pushing on a variety of buttons on his screen.

Now that the carrier was stable, Astrid headed towards the door once more before she heard a loud roar echo throughout the entire carrier, making her freeze in her tracks. Her dagger materialized in her hand once more, her entire body tensing at the amount of pure rage that she heard in the roar.

“Banner…” Fury whispered, his eyes wide. He turned to Astrid. “This was his plan.”

“What?” Astrid questioned.

“His plan was to release the Hulk. This is him,” he explained to her quickly. “You must get to him. This is his plan to escape.”

Astrid’s eyes widened in realization and nodded before quickly exiting the room and entering the darker hallway. She could hear more footsteps farther down the hall and decided that she wanted a larger weapon. The dagger disappeared from her hand and she summoned a sword in its place. She was not as used to its heavier weight compared to her daggers, but she needed to get to Loki as quickly as possible.

She swung her sword in a quick arc, familiarizing herself with the weapon again while also getting it into place to strike before a thought hit her. These people were mind controlled.

They aren’t doing this out of their own free will. They are being controlled. I can’t kill them.

Astrid let out a soft sigh and sent her sword away. She glanced around her and in the debris that was scattered around her from the fight, found a thick pipe that was about as long as her sword. She bent down and picked it up, noticing it weighed about the same, before continuing stealthily down the hall.

As she got closer to a corner, she heard more footsteps and quiet mumblings. She paused around the corner and listened to them come closer to her. With her make-shift weapon held poised to strike, she waited.

As soon as the first man came around the corner, she struck and with a loud thump to the side of his head, he went down.

A few shouts of surprise sounded from behind him as he crumpled down to the floor and Astrid came around the corner, the pipe swinging in her hand. The man that was directly behind the first raised his gun, but Astrid swiftly knocked it away with her arm, sending it to the ground, while kicking the man hard in the chest, knocking him back into the person behind him. They both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

As they went down, another came up and with a quick swing, he too went down. That is when the last two started shooting.

Astrid quickly raised up her arm to shield her face as a few bullets bounced off her armor. With a yell, she twisted her body around, sending her foot into the side of one of the men, using the momentum of her entire body to knock him off his balance. And that is exactly what happened. His small, frail Midgardian body did not hold up against her strength and it sent him flying into the wall.

She then jabbed the end of the pipe into the last man’s stomach, effectively knocking the breath out of him, before she grabbed the front of his pathetic attempt at armor, and threw him into the other wall, watching him slump down onto the floor after leaving a large crack in the thick wall of the aircraft. She surveyed the unconscious bodies around her before continuing down the hallway, dropping the pipe along the way.

Astrid continued towards Loki’s cell, taking out a few more stray soldiers in her path with her hands, not needing a weapon and not wanting to kill any of them.

After some time, she finally found the hallway that led to Loki. She didn’t seem to recall it taking her that long the first time. She must have gotten turned around in the maze of this carrier. Midgardian technology was so confusing.

As she made it to the closed door, she glanced down at the pad thing next to it. Natasha had placed her hand on it to get the door to open before, but Astrid did not have time for that. She slammed her fist into the pad, shattering the screen and sending smoke billowing from the device. An alarm sounded around her but she paid no attention to it as she pried the door open and slipped inside.

She was greeted with an empty space, causing her to stop in her tracks. The cage was gone. How could it be gone?

A choked noise caught her attention and she spun towards one of the walls to see Coulson slumped against it, a large red spot blooming on his white shirt. Astrid gasped and rushed towards him, kneeling at his side.

“What happened? Where is Loki?” she questioned hastily as she examined his wound. It was deep and still bleeding.

“I blasted him through the wall with this thing,” he gestured down to the large gun that was laying across his lap. Astrid looked at the gun and over towards the other wall, where there was a large hole. “But he got away,” he finished sadly.

Astrid’s gut twisted, but she turned back to Coulson, trying to focus some of her magic onto him, though healing magic was not something that she had focused much time on.

“And Thor…” he broke off. Astrid’s eyes shot back up to his.

“What about Thor?”

“He’s… He’s gone,” he finished sadly.

Astrid’s entire body froze. “What do you mean?”

Coulson’s tired but kind eyes met hers. “Loki tricked him into the cage. That cage was meant in case we ever needed a place to put Banner. One scratch on that glass would send him down to the earth below. It was a last resort, but we had it if we needed it.” His eyes turned sad. “Loki dropped the cage while Thor was in it. That glass is practically unbreakable. I’m so sorry,” he finished softly.

Astrid’s heart clenched painfully, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

“I tried to stop him,” Coulson said quietly, his gaze falling away from hers.

She cleared her throat, forcing the large lump away before talking quietly, “It’s okay. You did your best,” she soothed. She could see the light slowly leaving his eyes and his skin becoming more and more pale. Her efforts were not working. She desperately called for more magic, a soft purple glow coming out of her fingers and wrapping themselves around Coulson and his wound, but she knew it was too late and she was not skilled enough to save him. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, the sadness overwhelming. That she could not save Coulson. That Thor was dead. That Loki killed him.

Another pair of footsteps quickly entered the room and Astrid looked up to see Fury standing there. When he saw Coulson, he quickly rushed to Astrid’s side and crouched down beside her.

Coulson looked up at him. “I’m sorry boss. The god rabbited.”

“Just stay awake,” Fury demanded, reaching up to twist his head to face his. “Eyes on me.”

Coulson gave a small smile. “No, I’m clocking out here.”

Fury shook his head, “Not an option.”

Coulson looked up into Fury’s eye and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, boss.” He paused, taking a breath before continuing, “This was never gonna work, if they didn’t have something to…” He broke off, his words cracking as he tried to continue. “To…”

Astrid watched as Coulson’s gaze broke away from Fury’s and his body relaxed into the wall behind him, his eyes staring blankly at a spot between the two of them.

Fury’s head dropped and Astrid saw his jaw clench. The tears threatened to overwhelm her once again as her hands stopped moving, the purple hue fading away. Fury sat there for another moment before he stood up and moved away, but Astrid couldn’t bring herself to. Not yet.

With a deep breath, she placed her hand over Coulson’s cold one and let his final thoughts flood her mind. A woman playing some sort of large instrument. Friends and family that he would never see again. Loki stabbing him in the back with his scepter while Thor cried out in the background. But the most frequent images she saw were ones of Fury and Coulson together. In some of them, they looked younger. Fury still had both eyes. Others were them more recently. But they seemed to always be smiling or laughing.

As the images slowly faded away, Astrid let go of his hand and she felt the tears sliding down her face. She closed her eyes for a moment before standing and heading out of the room, not being able to be there for a moment longer.

She wandered aimlessly around the carrier, not caring where the endless maze took her as she let her feelings out. The tears continued to steam down her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had lost both of her brothers today. What would she do when she returned home? How could she go home and look into the eyes of her parents and explain what had happened?

As she passed a doorway, she heard the voices of Steve and Tony.

"Haven't you ever lost a soldier before?" Steve asked Tony.

Tony spun around to face him. "We are not soldiers." He spit, before pushing past the Captain and leaving the room, not even sparing her a glance as he passed her.

She heard Steve sigh softly before turning around, startling slightly at her presence, before quickly calming down.

"I'm sorry about Thor," he said softly, his kind and sympathetic eyes meeting hers. Astrid bowed her head in acknowledgment, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He nodded slowly and started to walk out of the room as well, but Astrid grabbed his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. His icy blue eyes met hers.

"Thank you." Astrid whispered softly. He gave her a small smile and she let go of his arm and he left the room.

“We found him,” Steve came rushing into the room, causing Astrid to whip her head up towards him. “We found Loki.” Astrid’s eyes flared and she nodded, standing up and following him to the small aircraft where Natasha and another man were waiting.

Upon seeing the other man, Astrid summoned a dagger and was ready to attack before Steve pulled her back.

“What are you doing? He was in the carrier when we were being attacked. He was attacking us!” her confused eyes meeting Steve’s. She noticed that the man looked away from her as if ashamed.

“Clint was being controlled. You know this. Natasha woke him up,” Steve explained.

Astrid turned to Natasha. “How did you do it?”

She smirked and glanced at Clint. “I hit him really hard on the head.”

Astrid looked at the man, Clint, and studied him for a few moments. He certainly did not seem like the man Astrid had seen earlier. With a flick of her wrist, the dagger was gone and she approached Clint. His eyes turned fearful as she came towards him and thrust her hand out towards him. “I’m Astrid.”

Clint looked at her in shock before glancing towards Steve and Natasha.

Astrid became a bit self-conscious. She turned her head towards Steve. “Am I doing it wrong? Is this not how Midgardians greet each other?”

“No! No, that’s right,” Clint blurted out, causing her eyes to meet his again. “I just wasn’t expecting you to forgive me that quickly,” he admitted sheepishly.

Astrid smiled. “You were not in your right mind. I do not hold it against you.”

Clint finally smiled at her before taking her hand and giving it a firm shake. “I’m Clint. It’s nice to meet you.”

They all boarded the aircraft, shooing a poor boy out of it, and took off.

Astrid sat by Steve in the aircraft. Barton and Natasha were flying it towards someplace that kept referring to as Stark Tower. They said that this is where Loki would be.

Steve handed her a small device. “Put this in your ear. This will allow us to keep in contact with you.”

Astrid glanced down at the foreign object, but nodded and slipping it into her right ear.

As they were getting closer to the city, they heard a loud whooshing sound. Astrid stood up and looked up at the sky. She watched in horror as the sky ripped open and dozens of aliens started pouring through. Astrid’s entire body froze as she watched them rain down onto the city below.

As they got into the city, Clint started firing the aircraft’s weapons towards the aliens as they flew around the city. They continued firing as they approached the large tower and Astrid saw two figures fighting on the rooftop. A flash of a red cape made Astrid smile.

Clint turned the craft towards the building and began firing towards the figure adorned in green and gold. She saw Loki throw Thor onto the ground before turning and aiming his scepter at the aircraft. A blue blast shot out of the end of the scepter and crashed into one of the wings of the vehicle.

Astrid grabbed onto the ceiling above her as the craft began to lose control and spiral back towards the ground and Clint fought to steady it.

With a crash, the aircraft landed on one of the streets. The back door opened and they all piled out, looking up at the horror in the sky.

Astrid watched countless aliens zipping around the sky, destroying anything that they could, killing anyone in the process.

Natasha pulled out her guns and started firing at any enemy that came close to them and Clint did the same, though he pulled out a bow. Astrid decided that she liked this man.

She turned to Steve. "Can you handle this without me? I'm going to find Loki."

He turned to look at her and she saw the concern in his eyes, but he must have seen the determination in hers because he finally nodded. "Go. We'll be fine." He gave her a reassuring smile and Astrid took off.

As she raced down the street, she summoned her sword again, cutting down any alien that came in her path. As she fought them, she kept her eyes peeled for Loki. She finally spotted his signature green cape billowing from the top of a building a bit farther down the street.

“I found him, but I can’t get to him. Can someone get me up there?” Astrid shouted into the earpiece as she took off towards the building.

“I’ll get you up there, Princess,” Tony responded almost immediately.

At the sound of blasters nearby, Astrid glanced over her shoulder to see Tony coming towards her. He grabbed the back of her cape up by her neck and hoisted her up into the air, carrying her up towards Loki.

“Give him hell, princess,” Tony said to her before dropping her down towards the roof.

This time, she braced herself and fell into a flip as she landed, dispersing the force equally among her body, though the wind was still slightly knocked out of her.

"Well, look who it is." A laugh sounded from behind her, causing her to spin around at the familiar mocking tone. Loki stood in all his glory, golden horns curled proudly against his head, green cape flapping in the wind.

"If it isn't Astrid." He spit out, his eyes full of anger and distaste, something she never saw aimed towards her.

"Stop this Loki, please," Astrid said calmly. She wanted to summon a weapon but she refrained, afraid it would set him off.

“Why should I listen to you?” he demanded.

Astrid paused for a moment. “Because you’re my brother,” she finally replied softly.

Something flickered in Loki’s eyes but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "If I remember right, you disowned me too. Just like everyone else."

"I was angry Loki. I was angry at you, angry at father, and angry at Thor. You know I didn't mean what I said,” she took a small step forward, her arms out as if to calm him. “I could never mean that,” she finished in a small voice.

Something similar to regret flashed in Loki’s eyes, though she didn’t have time to question it because a loud roar caught her attention.

Her eyes whipped into the sky, where a large serpent-like creature came through the portal. She gasped softly, her eyes glued to the monster, watching how it floated through the sky, dropping more aliens along the way.

She wasn't paying any attention to Loki when she should have been. She should have never turned her back on him.

She suddenly felt a searing pain in her stomach and she gasped. She glanced down at her stomach and saw the tip of Loki's scepter protruding from her stomach.

Loki's cruel laugh sounded right behind her ear and she turned to look over her shoulder at him, the betrayal stinging. His eyes met hers, but they were cold and hard and also bluer than she remembered.

Then, he yanked the scepter out of her, the tip red with her blood, and Astrid fell to the ground, gasping in pain, a red spot spreading across her stomach. Loki stood over her, blood dripping from her scepter as he smiled down at her.

Astrid rolled onto her back, clutching her stomach, hoping to stop the flow of blood, but it still drained through her fingers. Her nerves were firing too fast for her to try and use magic, but she knew that even if she could, she wasn’t experienced enough to accomplish anything.

The pain was excruciating and tears slipped down her cheeks as Loki was grinning down at her. Her pain-filled eyes finally met his and she gasped out. "Kill me."

Loki's surprised was evident on his face. "What?"

"Kill me." Astrid repeated, refusing to tear her gaze away from his. "Kill me, if that's what you really want. I don't want to live without you as my brother, but you're not the brother you once were. I don't want to see you in jail for the rest of your life, so kill me. End my suffering already,” Astrid finished with a gasp of pain and threw her head back as the pain got worse. Black started to creep around the edges of her vision.

She couldn't see Loki's reaction. She desperately tried to see his face and caught a glimpse of his icy blue eyes as they seemed to flicker for a moment, before turning back to their normal shade of blue-green.

So..... I’m really sorry about that. Please don’t hate me. 

I hope to have the next chapter up within the next week, but classes have been killing me this semester (stupid organic chemistry) and I have a few big exams this following week so it might not be until next weekend. Sorry. But please let me know what you thought! I love getting feedback. :) 

@jackheart180 @marvelandhpfan @nagaindcsiar @fairlightswiftly I know you guys never asked for a tag, but you seem to enjoy it, so I wanted to let you know. If you want me to stop tagging you, just let me know. :) 

#The Younger Sister #Loki Laufeyson #loki #Thor and Loki #loki x sister!oc #thor x sister!oc #The Avengers #angst #a bit of blood #please don't hate me #i'm sorry #but this is not the end

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left behind - Chapter 1 - Initial Encounters - Part 2

Part 2

Meanwhile in Antarctica...

Inside the Stasis Pod, Terra Atlantus - Antarctica

The Dream

Noises…

These were familiar noises. They were generated by his beloved Sikorsky HH-60 Pave Hawk: The slap of the rotors overhead, the faint crackle from his headphones, the voice of Mr. J. Smith, who was acting as his crew for the record, requesting updates on something very important or other through his very classified comms channel, the faint whooshing sound that carried over as his own chopper caught the backlash of the other chopper, that appeared seemingly out of nowhere and on its way down fast to a painful crash.

Wait…

That shouldn't be there with the familiar noises, should it?

No. It shouldn't.

That was why he aborted his own forward momentum to follow the Black Hawk that was having a bad day. He drowned out Mr. Smith's indignant protests as he tried to raise the crashing bird on the comms to no avail. He remembered to flash off a quick update to his destination about the possible crash and emergency rescue. Then he signed off without waiting for their acknowledgement or orders.

By some miracle or other, the other chopper made landfall in more or less one piece. But half of its tail broke off upon impacting the rough terrain below. It came to a stop listing on to its side and John could see the occupants were already piling out.

He was circling the site low, looking to put his Pave Hawk down when things went hazy.

..........

Oh, God! No, no, no! Not again…Not that again!

He felt his mind going to pieces- a gibbering, quivering mess of protests and whimpers and he didn't know over what. It was disconcerting; he was deathly afraid of something - but what?

John felt the familiar warm glow wrapping around him again and he felt his mind slowly coming out of its hiding place. He felt he should be concerned about this too; but he strangely sort of wasn't.

..........

The motion picture reel of his mind started up again. He knew he'd landed his bird just beside the downed one. It was all quite different now. His vision had sharpened to a point he could read the tags off the uniform of one soldier who was already crawling away from their downed chopper about 20 yards away. He could hear him muttering and cursing about life-suckers.

He could also see the two tall, pale figures that were standing on the top of the small ridge about 100 yards away in a southerly direction from them. He could also see the black and red slimy thing with pale protrusions, busily crawling towards the two figures.

It was as if a switch had flipped inside of his brain. Everything around him had come to a standstill and was swiftly dismissed as unimportant distractions.

And his mission came to the forefront of his mind in utmost clarity.

Seek & Destroy.

There were only three targets and only their utter and complete destruction mattered. It was his life’s imperative; his reason for being and nothing else mattered until those abominations were wiped from the face of earth.

He felt himself moving as if in a powerful trance. His body was going through the quick motions of arming himself; stuffing his tactical vest with grenades and extra ammo and his holsters with extra hand-guns. He was aware of barking quick orders to his charge- to stay put inside the chopper, just before grabbing his primary weapon, an M4 carbine, and jumping out. Then he was taking off towards his targets.

He caught up to them quickly since they were not very keen on getting away. They were both focused on the creepy, crawly thing edging towards them. He got within the closest range of fire and opened up with his carbine.

The memory providing the whole scenario got crazy then, because he was seeing things that were not supposed to happen in a normal reality. The thing he was firing at, moved at inhuman speeds. Instead of running away or even dropping dead after being riddled with bullets, it came towards him, with its hand raised as if to slap him.

John remembered discarding his carbine without bothering to reload and strangely enough his hand went to his K-bar. He remembered the agonizing pain that enveloped his head at that moment too; as if something was drilling into his brain trying to get a hold of him. His body moved of its own accord, brandishing the knife and gracefully sidestepping the oncoming nightmare with its pale, tall, slimy figure and long, white hair.

While his mind and brain tangled with the telepathic assault, his newly improved eyesight noted the strange anatomy of his enemy with weak points somehow highlighted for him. He remembered the squelching sound it made, when his knife connected with the protruding soft gill-like sack on the neck of the thing. It let out a scream he was sure that was beyond the normal human hearing decibel range; but he heard nonetheless. His right hand had already found its way to his hand-gun which was strapped to his thigh and was shooting the raised hand of the thing, on the palm, with a sure knowledge that it would be the kill shot.

The pain in his head got bad then, dropping him to his knees. The female nightmare was standing in front of him hissing through its wicked rows of pointy teeth. It was sending a nasty fishy breath right on his face that made him want to projectile vomit at it.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed hard. The female was more shocked than angry at this mere little human managing to kill her mate. And even more shocked that she couldn't break through into his empty little mind.

"Who are you, little human? Why don't you let me into your little mind? Let me see what you are, while I feed on your feisty little body." She had her long, thin, clawed fingers wrapped around his neck like a vise.

"John Sheppard, US Air Force. Can't say it's a pleasure though, you kind of stink." John managed to hiss through gritted teeth.

"OPEN YOUR MIND"

She bellowed into his mind, squeezing his already abused throat accompanied by what felt like a thousand sharp pikes directly driven into his brain. John let out a scream as his mind fought the onslaught. He saw himself through the haze of pain, picturing a shimmering blue shield around his mind against the assault that rained on him. And he willed it to endure with all his might. And the moment he felt the shield starting to wobble, he pushed it back with everything he had, along with all those mental pikes. He didn't know how he had known to do what he did or how he actually managed to pull it off, but it worked.

The thing let out a scream of its own with its hands clutching at its head and John reacted. He launched himself at it from his kneeling position and his knife found its mark. He dragged the blade across its neck, halfway decapitating it. Then he followed the falling body down to the ground; caught the palm of its' right hand with that weird gaping opening and drove his knife right through it, to the ground. The female released another final scream before she stopped moving altogether.

Then he finally moved his focus onto the thing that was busy crawling towards the two aliens. Yeah, those things were not products of this planet- John was sure of it. Fair enough, they looked humanoid. But they were too thin and too freakishly tall, and the long white hair had a weird, milky-slimy looking shine to it. The features on the faces were all wrong in the placement as well. Cat-like eyes with gleaming yellow pupils that were too widespread and the nostrils were too flat, and the mouths full of rows and rows of pointy teeth that stank to high heaven. Yep. Definitely not human. Add to it this creepy thing that was busily crawling towards John or more likely its' dead parents? He felt like he had been transported into a different universe.

Without much conscious thought, he emptied the clip in his hand gun into the crawling mess and watched it explode into a thousand tiny, fleshy, bloody pieces with detachment. And with that, he felt the strange awareness that held him captive and his senses overly sharpened, slowly drifting away into the deep confines of his mind again.

He felt consciousness waving in and out as he struggled to remain upright. He had to fight the urge to lay down next to the horrors he had just killed. Adrenaline and whatever extra boost his body had been riding had gone down to zero. The killer headache he was sporting felt like his brain was trying to eject through his ears and nose. Absently wiping his face, he noted that he had a nose bleed as well.

His mind was trying to tell him about a downed Black Hawk in bits and pieces while his weary body was clumsily dragging its' way back to where he landed. He could hardly recall how he made it back and how he ended up meeting the not-so-welcoming committee of four pissed-off SEALs. He remembered the relief at realizing that he actually knew one of them. Before that relief had time to settle, he was roughly being dragged, efficiently disarmed and tied up. And the supposedly friendly face of one Steve McGarrett was thrust close to his, screaming at him for leaving his people behind.

His exhausted mind was making a valiant effort trying to understand the accusations and alarming amount of fire now consuming the two Hawks, but was failing miserably. He hadn’t even registered any explosions.

He remembered giving up coherent thought just before he was hauled into the back of a Humvee.

..........

John knew that all this had come to pass some time ago and he was sort of reviewing the whole thing from a safe and comfortable place, though he didn't know exactly where. He had a feeling that this was serving some sort of an educational purpose; how to fight this particular nightmare version of bad guys and remember how to resist their apparently evil telepathic powers. John was able to appreciate the whole thing in an academic sort of way thanks to the comfortable and companionable presence that was still surrounding him in a warm cocoon. It was keeping the pain away as well. The pain he knew that was lurking there at the edge, courtesy of the hellish five or so days he spent at the base under torture.

Yeah, those clowns had shown up before his ass hit the door of his prison cell on the way in. He suspected a classified branch of military or maybe even the Firm. They had started friendly enough in the beginning, and steadily gone downhill from there, resorting to outright torture when John had not been forthcoming with information. Their questions were too canny and pointed, as if they knew a whole lot more about the crazy, evil, stinky aliens. And John, to his own detriment, had a very strong feeling, almost a compulsion not to reveal anything of what happened. After what he survived, he had a healthy respect for whatever it was, that had awakened in him. So he kept giving them the name, rank and serial number routine until they lost patience with him.

Now here he was, wherever he was. But he knew without a shred of doubt that he was wanted, even needed here. He was welcome here, in fact he was home; the warmth insisted. It was a nice feeling, John decided. Not something he'd had even at home before he left to join the Air Force to his father's great displeasure. So he allowed himself to burrow into the offered comfort and drift away for a while, trusting that he would be brought back when it was time.

Central Command, Terra Atlantus - Antarctica

Carson was annoyed. Make that supremely annoyed. Why couldn't the impatient bugger wait for a couple more days? He had already been waiting for just over twelve days, hadn't he? What difference one or two more days could possibly make?

Oh, but no, the great Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D Ph.D had decided today was the day! The Chair absolutely had to be calibrated right now or the end was nigh! Honestly, the scientist was an outright prima donna drama queen when he had to have his way. He had stormed into the infirmary, loudly insisting the Major be immediately released so that he could sit in the Chair. They needed a system wide calibration RIGHT NOW because the power readings he was getting were not right.

The poor lad had gone bug-eyed at the scientist-shaped tornado glaring down at him, and shot a pleading look at Carson to save him.

The Major had been transferred to a bed at the infirmary during the night, when the stasis pod had finally seen fit to release its charge. They had him hooked to an IV and a monitor as a precaution. Carson had been relieved to see what the pod monitor had been reporting was true. The lad was as healthy as a male of his late twenties could be, and a quick scan had shown that all the broken bones had been healed as well; including the not quite healed one according to his medical file, had happened a month ago during training.

The lad had continued his peaceful slumber through the rest of the night until an hour ago. He had woken up to a nurse who was checking his temperature, given a pleasant and somewhat sheepish smile and asked for some breakfast. Carson had sent away the nurse for the requested meal and started to ask some questions about how he was feeling, when Rodney barged in.

It was either serving up the Major to the Unholy Force that was McKay or sacrificing himself, and Carson was fiercely protective of his patients. That was how he had found himself reluctantly following the head scientist towards the dreaded Chair. Because Carson knew despite all the drama Rodney managed to throw at everybody, the man must have a valid reason to be demanding a system check immediately and it most probably was that important.

……….

They had found out about this particular Outpost only about a year ago, when the Goa'uld System Lord Anubis had this bright idea to bring a fleet to try to conquer the earth. General O'Neill, who had a head full of Ancient database accidentally downloaded inside his head around about that time, managed to find this place. After a couple of minor miracles involving engineering and transportation rings, they had unearthed the Outpost enough for the General to go in and activate the defenses. Those defenses had put a stop to that battle. Then the whole project around the place was born; to explore and discover everything they could about it. But the structure and its worldly possessions had been somewhat reluctant in giving away their secrets.

The Terra Atlantus, according to Dr. Daniel Jackson- or the Ancient Defense Outpost according to everybody else, was an underground hexagonal structure, roughly the size of two football stadiums the best they could tell. Some of it was still covered in ancient ice and they were still discovering and excavating its outer reaches. What they had discovered and made viable for human occupation, was a sturdy structure made of a copper colored metal alloy that was decidedly alien. The hidden light fixtures were bathing the interior in soft pale blue glow where they hadn't installed fluorescent lights that were more suitable for their human sensibilities. There were habitable complexes surrounding the center of the building that came outfitted with their own amenities such as attached bathrooms, sleeping areas and in some cases small kitchenettes. All they had to do was replace the Ancient versions of millennia old beds and linen and it was ready to be moved into, by the happy band of scientists and their military minders. The middle of the building that had served as the Command Center in the past was now alive and reinforced with equal numbers of modern day screens, laptops, computers, power generators, data depositories and whatnot attached to each and every Ancient gadget that was there in the first place. They even had several platforms set up to take apart whatever fancy Ancient tidbit caught their eye.

……….

Carson noted that Dr. Grodin was enthusiastically pawing away at what looked like a mechanical version of a squid, while Dr. Sommers was flitting around taking photos and making increasingly inappropriate noises. She was crooning at it for heaven's sake! He also noted the young Marine- Lt. Ford if Carson recalled correctly- keeping a wary eye on the thing as if it might come alive at some point to eat them. Knowing and having seen the things throughout the years since the discovery of the dreadful Stargate, Carson couldn't blame him.

Of course occupying the place of pride, elevated on its own grand, foot-and a-half high platform complete with its own hidden light source, bathing it in a soft shimmering blue, was the Control chair of the Outpost. That was the point where everything in the place was connected to and could be controlled from; the central nervous system, the Brain of Terra Atlantus. The huge gun metal gray chair with its distinctly alien swirls and curls of carved design looked like a throne. It always rested in an upright position and went into an incline and its vein-like design was flooded with luminescent blue, when it was activated.

Carson hated the thing with a passion. It always gave him a headache when he had to keep his head positioned at the uncomfortable headrest that emitted a buzzing hum, whenever he had to try to activate it. It was unpleasant in the extreme and made it hard to concentrate on whatever Rodney was harping at him to do at any given time. And those pads filled with gel-like substance on the armrests where he had to rest his palms, gave him a squishy feeling. They also made his palms itch like crazy.

He sat on it with a sigh of resignation. Rodney made his way to the nearest monitor that was blinking at him with technical jargon that made no sense to Carson.

"Activate the Chair Carson-Sometime today would be good," McKay snapped at him without turning from his perusal of the scrolling data the monitor had on it.

"Aye Rodney, I'm trying, give me a minute."

Carson closed his eyes and concentrated. Or he tried his best. He thought of his happy place in Scotland, the nice green meadow covered in soft sunlight instead of the cold hard alien metal that was digging into his bum in silent protest.

After what felt like hours but was mere minutes in reality, the Chair gave an almost angry buzzing noise and went into a half-hearted incline. A soft blue light came on surrounding the chair reluctantly, mimicking its occupant.

"Yeah that's right. Now, think about the power management and ask it to run a diagnostic starting from the left wing."

When nothing happened, Rodney abandoned the display he was intent on and came closer to the doctor.

"Come on Carson, concentrate. I have a bad feeling about this and we need to see what is going on. You know this whole place went into a tizzy before we brought that flyboy in. We need to find out if things have gone back to their normal settings. So we need your head in the game Carson, chop chop."

‘Of course, Rodney being his uniquely helpful self is not really helping my concentration in the least.’ The doctor thought sarcastically.

He briefly wondered if Major Sheppard had managed to eat his breakfast. Big mistake! His own stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly that he hadn't eaten yet either.

The monitor attached to the Chair detected a brief flare of power but failed to pinpoint the location it was sent to. It pinged in alarm and Rodney rushed back to the screen with a muttered oath.

"Okay. No, no, no, no… that is not good - Carson what was that? What did you just think at it now?"

"That I was hungry Rodney - I can't think about power management when I'm hungry," Carson snapped back exasperatedly at the scientist whose mutterings were increasing in velocity and sound, as he tried to pinpoint the source of the power surge.

The Chair chose that moment to suddenly go into full incline and half rotate. The soft blue glow emanating from it, brightened briefly. Carson let out a terrified squeak at the sudden movement, but wisely did nothing to move from his position.

Simultaneously, startled shouts and a short scream erupted from the platform, Doctors Grodin and Sommers were working on. Before anyone could even begin to react, the squid they were working on, burst into a bright golden flare and took off in a blink. It went horizontal for a tenth of a second before re-orienting and taking off in a straight vertical line- like the suddenly online guided missile it was. It was through the roof and out of their sight in less than two seconds. Then the hidden door on the roof that had cycled open to let the thing out, swished closed; raining down ice and snow that had come loose at the heated departure of the missile. Impromptu cold showers broke everyone from their frozen states into action.

Rodney cursed loudly as he ran to the nearest emergency alarm and slammed it on. Lt. Ford ran to the telephone near the wall that had the direct line to McMurdo to let them know that there was an airborne bogey with an unknown payload now roaming the sky. Dr. Elizabeth Weir and Dr. Daniel Jackson came running towards the Chair to see what was going on.

"Ah, Elizabeth, talk to him. He just fired an Ancient equivalent of a missile to god knows where. You need to get him to shut it down NOW!" Rodney wailed.

"Sir we have a problem. McMurdo tells me a chopper just took off and on its way here. They are may be 15 minutes out. It's General O'Neill's transport; he is making an unscheduled visit." Pale-faced Lieutenant Ford contributed to the brewing disaster.

"Um, McKay, it took off before we disconnected the power source. I'm 95% sure it's got a miniature ZPM onboard powering it. I don't know if we can shut it off from the Chair now that it's taken off," Dr. Grodin carried the apocalyptic football towards the home stretch.

Inside a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk, En Route to Defense Outpost - Antarctica

"Sir, we just got an emergency update from the Outpost. They have an unauthorized missile launch. Destination unknown. We are advised to RTB." The somewhat agitated pilot of the Black Hawk informed General O'Neill who was looking outside from his window.

"It's too late for that now I think, Richardson, We are going to have to duke it out.'" The General observed mildly as he looked at the ominous trail of smoke that was rapidly closing in on them from a distance.

"Try to zigzag and launch some countermeasures. And try to evade it enough so we could land this bird and pray it will just ignore us.” He felt obliged to backseat pilot, since the on duty pilot was looking increasingly worried and a bit lost.

O'Neill idly wondered if this was the first time this kid saw any live action.

'Just my luck', he had time to wonder, 'I'm going to die with a rookie on his first mission in this god forsaken frozen hellhole.'

'Carter had better fry the asshole who is murdering me today.' Thought the General in resigned apathy as he watched the smoke trail getting closer and closer.

#stargate #stargate atlantis #hawaii five 0 #steve mcgarrett #john sheppard #military #adventure #romance #crossover #alternate universe #violence #m/m pairing #wraith #atardecer

[sunnybimbo]

!!! i wrote this for my buddiest best of buds, @kurosakiami01​ and so i figured hey,,,, why not post it on tumblr also???? (we all know im a slut for attention)

so have this!

tw for lots of injuries, a brief panic attack, allura getting drugged, electrocution? ask to tag anything else!! its not as bad as it sounds!!!!

Pairing: Keith/Lance/Hunk

Summary: Team Voltron heads out for a peace talk, and Hunk ends up getting very hurt. Lance is beside himself, but he can always count on Keith to lean on.

Read it on AO3 here!

It’s one of those usual, boring, diplomatic days. Allura was trying to spread the good word that was Voltron, and it’s quest to defeat evil. Well, actually, the team had gotten a hail from a nearby planet. Inupra, it was called. A large planet, almost the size of the sun (the one that Earth orbited, that is), with exactly seven humanoid species and over a thousand microbiotic specimens.

At least, that’s what Pidge found out with a quick scan. Lance couldn’t care less about the composition of the soil, which Pidge had gone on a long spiel about. He was more concerned with whether or not he was allowed to stay inside to take a nap.

Spoiler: He wasn’t.

And so he sat stubbornly at the base of a tree, watching as Allura sucked up to the diplomats that were sent to complete the treaty. They had frog-like features and long bodies that towered over the humans like streetlights. Their skin was bumpy, like braille, and they ranged from purple to grey in color, but they all had friendly smiles. Friendly, toothless smiles.

Instead of schmoozing with the locals, Shiro and Keith had decided to wander around and  “scout the area”. In reality, they were just bonding. Nothing wrong with that.

Pidge was somewhere near the Green Lion, trying to reverse engineer the Inuprian’s hailing system. And Hunk was probably there, too, pulling Pidge back when the aliens got too overwhelmed by the tiny paladin’s excitement. Or maybe even hyping her up.

And Coran, as usual, was doing whatever it was he did all day on the ship. Repairing something? Or maybe trying to think of new recipes to experiment on. Probably something that was just as boring as the rest of the aforementioned activities.

That left Lance alone, with hard bark at his back and soft grass (or it’s space-equivalent) at his feet. Surely, with everyone so busy with their own things, he could take a super short nap? They’d hardly notice if he just… drifted right off…

“Lance!” Allura’s voice pierced through the peaceful silence and he hopped up, head nearly hitting a low-hanging branch.

As he began stuttering out excuses, the Inuprians set out a feast for the heroes. They enlisted the help of Hunk and Shiro for the heavy lifting, but the two boys didn’t complain. Honestly, they were just amazed at the size of the bird they had cooked. It was almost as large as Voltron’s foot.

It took nearly twenty minutes to set out the dishes, and another ten to arrange the seating. Allura at the head, two diplomatic ambassadors on either side of her, and the paladins taking up the rest of the seats.

Allura cleared her throat, lifting a goblet to make a quick toast. “Thank you, our new allies, for agreeing to join us in our journey to defeat Zarkon and his Galra Empire. Together we will be able to defeat him and finally be at peace.” With a nod and a smile, she took a small sip from the golden goblet.

Everyone followed her example, and then the feast began in earnest.

“Princesses first.” Lance teased, passing a plate of some sort of soup in Allura’s direction. Allura, however, didn’t pick up the tone and instead perked up.

“My, Lance! It seems you do have manners.”

Pidge’s laugh echoed in her already emptied goblet. Lance pouted, flicking a pea (which apparently was a universal vegetable) at the caramel-colored hair across from him. Before Pidge could retaliate with some pink mashed potatoes, Shiro’s hand was slamming down on the table between them.

“Chill out, kiddos.” Hunk spoke up, passing a full plate to the both of them. “The Inuprians worked real hard on this feast. I’d like to not be banned from returning until after I pick up some groceries.”

“Yes, mom.” Lance pouted, picking at his avian dish, resting his head against the palm of his hand. He didn’t, however, stop poking at Pidge’s shin guard with his foot. Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, throwing pointed looks at both of them while simultaneously trying to keep a conversation going with a nearby alien host.

The two paladins were just about to take their plates and dump them on each other when a concerned voice cut through the amicable chatter.

“Princess?”

Hunk, Lance, Pidge, and Shiro turned to Keith, who was holding said royalty steady as she teetered in her seat, head nearly falling into her plate. She trembled a bit, and swayed to the other side. Shiro, however, was there to catch her and gently lay her in the grass.

“Allura?” He waved his hand in front of her unfocused eyes, snapping his fingers. She couldn’t seem to concentrate, and her body was limp in his hold.

“Coran, something’s wrong with the princess.” Keith spoke into his communicator as the rest of the paladins crowded around.

“What’s the problem?” Coran’s voice filtered through all of their helmets.

“Maybe it’s an allergic reaction?” Hunk frowned, feeling for her pulse. Before Coran could respond, a weapon fired above their heads and hit an ambassador in the shoulder, knocking them from their seat and pulling the tablecloth with them.

Someone screamed, and the paladins scrambled into action. Shiro lifted the princess to his chest and took off in a sprint towards their lions, Keith right behind him.

Pidge gets hit once, a darkened tint over the white armor. The green paladin took it in stride, with only a grunt and an extra burst of speed as response.

Hunk and Lance, on the other hand, got caught in the crossfire. Lance immediately calls forth his blaster, aiming at the heavily shielded combatants that approached.

“They’re not Galra!” He shouted, diving for cover behind the upturned table and shooting covering fire as Hunk dropped beside him, his own gun materializing not seconds later.

“The translator is picking up parts of their language. It seems to be a protest?” Pidge spoke up. “Someone must not want to join our Alliance.”

“How’s the Princess?” Lance asked, firing two shots blindly as their heads were showered in splintered wood from their hiding spot. Of course the attackers came prepared, with shields, guns, and even explosives.

Speaking of, a grenade-type plopped right between the yellow and blue paladins and they scrambled out of the way. Hunk dashed right, firing his cannon to cover Lance’s escape. He didn’t notice as a group of the assailants cut him off until they were two steps ahead of him, tackling him to the ground.

“Hunk!” Lance cried, ducking behind a tree just as the grenade exploded.

The yellow paladin’s ears were ringing as the enemy Inuprians grabbed him with clammy, amphibious hands and flipped him onto his stomach. He heard the alarming sound of electricity near his ear before he felt it coursing through his veins.

They struggled to lift him while he was stunned, but they were so tiny compared to him, skinny arms more suited for programming bots than benchpressing something twice their size. Even with the group crowding him, they weren’t able to lift him very far.

For which, Hunk was thankful. Once he’d forced the air that had gotten stuck in his throat when they tased him back down, he was more than prepared to throw them off and into a few conveniently placed trenches.

“Hunk!” Lance screamed again, voice echoing through his malfunctioning communicator. “Come on, dude!”

Hunk grunted, rolling a shoulder. It would probably be bruised, but he would live. He conducted a brief once over of himself as he ducked and dove from the enemy retaliation, narrowly escaping another grenade. “On my way!”

Something else crackled through his busted helmet, but he couldn’t make out the words. It might’ve been Pidge?

Luckily, his lion wasn’t that far off. Near the Green Lion sat Yellow, hunched over and tense. Or, as tense as a machine can look. Hunk was grateful that the barrier easily dissipated and he slipped in without a hitch.

Once inside, he brought up the Lion-to-Lion communicator instead and tossed his helmet off to the side. A total safety hazard, but his ears were still ringing from the explosions and the static constantly crackling in his ears was not helping.

“Did everyone get away?” He asked as his Lion quickly powered up and took off, trailing just a few hundred feet from the Blue Lion.

“We’re all good.” Keith breathed heavily, and his picture popped up in Hunk’s peripherals as he checked Yellow’s power. “Shiro, how’s the Princess?”

There was a shuffling noise before Shiro popped up next. Pidge and Lance quickly joined in soon after. “She’s… still asleep, but she’s alive.” His voice was a bit shaky, and Hunk instantly saw how much everyone’s demeanor changed. They all tensed, gripping their controls like stress balls.

“Hangars are open. A diagnostic for the Princess is being set up. How much longer until you all reach the Castle?” Coran questioned, a flurry of beeps and boops of him furiously commanding the castle trickling in the background.

“Should be just a few minutes.” Shiro turned to glance back at Allura, who was leaning heavily against the wall, head lolling with the slightest movement.

“Watch out!” A voice cut through, too loud to really discern the speaker.

Red rammed into Black, and they swerved away just as a bright beam of light shot at their quickly vacated space. Allura mumbled nonsense as her body slid across the floor, but she was unhurt from the spin.

“Thanks.” Shiro breathed, and Keith nodded at him on the video feed. He slipped into a formation with the other four lions, leading as always, with Keith and Pidge to his right and Hunk and Lance to his left.

“Incoming!” Lance called, dodging out of the way. Another beam shot and deflected off of the Castle’s shields.

They weren’t expecting another shot to immediately follow, catching the Blue Lion by the tail and pulling her down. Lance squealed, and his video flickered from the interference. Not only that, but Blue’s exterior lit up like she was being electrocuted.

“They sure do love tazing.” Hunk grumbled, before calling out a worried, “Lance!” and charging into the line of fire.

He rammed head first into the underbelly of the Blue Lion, sending her hurtling back into open space and taking her place. The beam then wrapped around Yellow and began to tug the Lion and its paladin back down to the planet’s surface. Electricity surged through the controls, stinging Hunk’s hands.

His safety belt malfunctioned from the current, and he was slammed backwards out of the seat, head hitting a side panel and frying his head.

“It’s one of those beast things!” Pidge called, doubling back with Keith and Lance to help Hunk.

And a beast it was. It was huge, almost rivaling the Castle of Lion’s immense size. A thin blanket of some type of fur covered it’s skin, which had been interlaced with wires and machinery. A single eye seemed to be locked onto all five Lions at once.

From inside the Yellow Lion, dozens of alarms were going off. Hunk groaned, rubbing his neck. It would bruise, but he was just glad it wasn’t broken.

“Ugh… Whuh… Yellow!” He slurred, shoving his body up from the floor and collapsing over the consoles. His hands shook slightly as he read over the damages, and he couldn’t make himself do anything but stare as more and more popped up.

“--unk! Resp--d!” Voices fizzed through the speakers of his helmet, sitting sadly in the corner of his Lion, like a soda that had been shaken before being opened.

He grunted as his Lion shook violently, collapsing into his seat. “‘m here, guys.” He murmured. Then he coughed, and spoke up.

“I’m here.” He tried again, pulling up the videos once more and rolling his shoulders. He would definitely have to treat Yellow to some special bonding time after this.

Lance looked visibly relieved. “We’re coming to get you, bud. Just sit tight, yeah?”

“Or try to not get sucked down there. We don’t want that thing plus the Inuprians attacking us.” Pidge spoke up.

“Yeah. On it.” Hunk grunted, grabbing for his helmet and tugging it back on for safety, only pausing to wipe at the streak of blood coming from his nose. He must have banged it when he flew out of his seat. The red was startling against the yellow and white of his armor, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the poetry of color theory.

Yellow’s engines stuttered as he pushed against the current pulling him down.

The lasso'd electricity wrapped even tighter around Yellow's sides, crushing in. If she had lungs, she'd be in big trouble. Not to say, of course, that either she or Hunk were having the time of their lives at the moment.

Her armor began to buckle, and Hunk didn't even want to think about what would have happened if Lance and Blue had been caught instead. In this situation, it was best that the one with the most armor was trapped like this, so the ones with firepower could get him out.

As he’s pulled down lower and lower— Yellow sucking in on herself like a black hole— the robeast cuts fully through the atmosphere. The clouds cling to it, as if trying to hold it down, but ultimately it pushes through.

It... was very similar to one of the first robeasts they'd ever faced. It's singular eye rotated completely around its head, but the body seemed to have been replaced with an actual engine. It must be fast, then.

The body rotated (creepily enough, the head stayed facing straight) and the electric rope yanked Hunk closer. The current let up for just a moment, allowing him to breathe in the metallic tang of his own blood, and he choked on his cough as pain ruptured through his arm. And, upon closer inspection, he was having major trouble even trying to twist his wrist. Oh boy.

The hairy, creepy, spinny robeast jerks itself closer, and there is a faint, high-pitched sound of something being powered up, audible even in the empty void of space. That was the only warning they had before it shot again, at an encroaching Pidge that had tried to sneak up behind it.

Hunk, the darling, does try his best to help his friends. He tries to wiggle his controls this way and that to escape the hold, he tries to stop his nose from bleeding any further into his mouth, and he even tries to comfort the distressed Yellow in the back of his mind. He did not want to think about how much she must be hurting being wrapped so tight like that. Not one bit.

Around him, his team's voices filtered in one ear and out the other as they made and executed their plan.

First, Keith distracted the beast by being the biggest threat while Shiro dropped Allura off in the castle, out of harm's way. He fired everything he had on it, and it chased him like an agitated cat.

Yellow had begun to get tugged along with the pursuit, but he was quickly cut free by both Lance and Shiro. The rope was frozen by Blue's ice beam, and Shiro flashed by to cut it with Black's jawblade.

Yellow drifted, and Hunk didn't have the strength to try to move away. Instead, he sagged against the controls, timing his breathing with his erupting heartbeat, loud in his ears. It had long since drowned out the other voices, and the only thing that kept him from panicking was Yellow's presence.

Outside, though, his team was doing just fine. Even without Voltron, they were quickly overpowering the creature. It must have been built solely on speed, because even just ramming into it sent it spiraling out of control.

Pidge was the one to finish it. It was lured close by Keith, and Pidge burst out of invisibility to shoot as many times as she could, directly in its face.

Once one beam pierced, the remaining dozen easily cut through as well. It trembled and erupted into a satisfying ball of fire, and the team high-tailed it out of there as fast as they could.

The Black Lion latched onto the severely damaged Yellow, tugging her back home while the Green and Red help support the less broken, but still very much so voltaic Blue Lion.

Once they are safely nestled in their hangar, Coran flies them as far away as they can get without Allura's power teleporting them. Yellow is unable to support herself, and has to flop uselessly on her side in order to begin repairing herself.

Hunk, inside, is hardly doing better. He felt so tired, but he knew, out of everything learned from the medical classes forced on them by the Garrison, one with severe injuries should never be allowed to fall asleep. Or something like that.

So, he forced himself out of his chair to lean heavily against the walls of his Lion. He tears off his helmet to swipe away the remaining blood coating his lip with his uninjured hand.

That's how Lance bursts in on him. Blood across the front of his suit— which really looked much worse than it was— , an unnaturally held arm— which barely even hurt anymore!— and tears in his eyes. Those he had no excuse for, other than the fact that he'd been absolutely terrified about everything that had just happened to them.

Lance leads him out, chattering at him a mile a minute as he fussed with the blood, and Shiro quickly comes to help them down the ramp as Hunk teeters dangerously to the side, listing where he stood like a broken boat in the middle of the ocean.

The team huddles around him, but still they stay far enough away to give him space to find his footing. It's almost like a halo of worry around him, and Hunk cracks them a smile. "I'm okay guys."

Keith inhales sharply, ready to tear Hunk a new one until Shiro catches his attention with a quick motion, silencing him just like that.

Shiro and Lance support Hunk on the way to the medbay, where they're intercepted by Coran halfway down the hall.

They reach the destination faster than Hunk could remember them ever doing— or maybe he'd blacked out a bit halfway there— and he is quickly stripped down to pinpoint his exact injuries.

Upon peeling the suit from Hunk's hands, Lance jerks back with a hiss. The skin there was raw, white and black and red all at once, and Lance could swear it was even still smoking, as if the energy was still coursing through Hunk's veins and singeing him from the inside out.

Lance steps away to settle his suddenly disturbed stomach, and Pidge offers him a comforting pat on the shoulder with one hand as she set up the pod with the other.

The others stayed relatively quiet and uneased until the time comes to place him in the pod. They gathered around him in an anxious semi-circle as the pod opened, releasing a flood of chilly smoke.

They'd gotten half of his limp body in the pod when he began to struggle.

"Wait, I—" He grunted, nearly breaking free of Coran's grip when Shiro grabbed his other side. Even with the two of them grappling at his shoulders, he was making a heavy headway breaking out of their grips. It took the combined efforts of both of them, plus Pidge's extra hands to push him completely in. The entire time, they tried to console the upset paladin, who had sobbed harder and harder the further in he was pushed, shaking like a autumn leaf in the middle of a rainstorm.

Lance's heart leapt to his throat. "He's... he's having a panic attack." He whispered. Then, louder, "He's panicking! Give him a little space, guys." He shoved his hands between the three and, in his haste, nearly tripped all of them over.

He would worry about the scolding he'd get later. For now, he turned all of his focus on Hunk and grabbed his shoulders, squeezing them tight. "It's gonna be fine, big guy. You won't even realize you were in there until we pull you out, okay?"

"I realize now." Hunk whimpered, and he was about two seconds from hyperventilating.

Lance shushed him, pressing a kiss against Hunk’s few uninjured knuckles. "It'll be over before you know it. We won't let anything else hurt you, yeah? I know you trust me, Hunky hunk. Yeah?"

Hunk hesitated for half a second before he nodded his head, sagging against Lance. He grunted as he bore most of the weight of his friend, but slowly ambled him back into the pod with the quick help of the others.

"I'll be right here when you wake up, and then we can go and do whatever you want, okay?"

Hunk mumbled an affirmation, and Lance stroked his thumbs across Hunk's eyes, wiping away the tears that clumped his eyelashes.

"See you in a tick."

Lance stepped back, pulling Keith along with him to let the pod shut securely and fill with whatever cold magic it had stored inside. He watched as Hunk got in one last good shudder before he was knocked out and set on the fast-track to Cure Town.

He can't seem to stop his shaking hands, and he pointedly ignores any looks his friends pass his way, no matter how worried they were.

Shiro walks past, placing his hand over Lance's head as he does. "Take some time to settle, you three."

Immediately, Lance shakes his head, accidentally jarring Shiro's hand from there. "I'm staying here. With Hunk."

A familiar red suit pops up next to him, and Keith nods his head. "Me, too."

Shiro's eyebrows pop up in surprise, but he doesn't deny them their request. "Alright, then."

His succeeding words get lost in the back of Lance's brain as he squeezes his hands tightly against his chest. Partly to stop them from shaking, but mostly to give him something else to focus on, so he doesn't burst out crying in front of everyone.

Shiro eventually leaves, though, with one last encouraging pat to his (and Keith's) shoulders. Pidge stays a bit longer, with Coran, to figure out when exactly Hunk would be exiting his cold prison.

They leave when Keith can't seem to stand it anymore, and holds out his hand for Lance to hold. It was a sudden, uncharacteristic gesture for them, but Coran and Pidge knew private moments when they saw it. Quietly, they left the boys to themselves.

They held hands until Hunk's pale color returned to its natural, beautifully brown hue.

 ---

 Hours later found the two in nearly the same position. Instead of standing, they sit back to back in front of the pod. Lance idly sips on a water pouch, and Keith fiddles with Altean weights. Their hands are still firmly tangled together, resting against the cold floor.

Once Keith jostles Lance for the umpteenth time that hour by switching weights, the blue paladin groans into the empty room.

"Stop it. You're gonna be so sweaty by the time he gets out."

Keith snorts at him, and Lance shakes his shoulder to throw him off balance. "I'm serious! Sweaty group hugs are gross."

"I'll go change, then."

"What— in like, the three seconds it takes for the pod to open?"

They bickered with each other until they both were red in the face, moving from sitting to standing to turning away from each other out of frustration. They didn’t hold hands again until the next hour, when Keith leaned over to lean against Lance’s shoulder and swiped at his eyes, almost furious at the way tears welled up in them. The two of them murmured soft apologies, just before they fell asleep.

 ---

 Halfway through Hunk’s healing cycle, the doors to the medbay open, and a perfectly fine, if not a bit groggy, Allura poked her head in.

She offered them soft smiles, stepping in fully as the two woke themselves up. “I was told I would find you both in here.”

“Couldn’t just leavy Hunk all alone.” Lance offered with a shrug of his shoulders. “He’d hate that.”

Allura wordlessly hummed, smoothing out her skirts to join them on the stairs, sitting on the free side of a yawning Keith.

For a moment, silence echoed around them. Not necessarily awkward, but very noticeable.

Then, Lance perked up, turning towards Allura. “We’re glad to see you’re alright, princess. No side effects from whatever they drugged you with?”

“Nothing but heavy limbs and a slight headache.” She promised. “Coran suggested I stay in bed, but…”

“You wanted to check on Hunk?”

She sent him a teasing smile. “He is my favorite paladin.”

Lance put a hand over his heart, obviously not offended at the statement even if he pretended. Hunk was everyone’s favorite paladin, after all.

“Do you know why we got attacked, anyway?” Keith spoke up, picking at his gloves. Already, he was awake and alert.

Allura tilted her head. “We haven’t been in contact with them yet, as far as I know. But I assume that it was just that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll have to look into it, once everyone is up and at the ready.”

“So… it wasn’t because of Voltron?”

Allura shook her head. “Only technically? From what Coran told me, there were a few extremists that prefer the ‘safety’ of Galra rule, over the freedom that the current legislation was fighting for.” She sighed, tucking her hands under her legs as she looked up at the ceiling. “The attack most likely would have happened regardless, but we were good targets to hit.”

“They must have contacted the Galra, though. To have summoned that awful robeast thing.” Keith pointed out, cringing at the memory of it.

“I’m glad you all were able to get out of there without me transporting us.” Allura confessed. “I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if none of us were in uniform.” Something her father had been adamant about, back in the day. It never hurt to be prepared, even if only as a display of power.

Lance threw his hands in the air. “Everyone wants to attack a princess.”

She huffed at that, standing. “You don’t understand the half of it.” She motioned towards the pods. “I’m assuming you two will be sitting here through the night, waiting for him?”

Lance and Keith shared a glance, before the two of them nodded. “I’m sure he can’t wait to see my beautiful face.” Lance said, striking a pose that showcased his glowing features.

Allura hummed, walking up the handful of stairs back towards the door. “Of course. I’m glad to see you two are doing alright after the incident.”

Keith snorted at that, self-consciously rubbing at his eye. Neither of them mentioned the brief breakdown he’d had, between one cuddle and the next. Lance isn’t sure if he’d ever seen someone cry so hard, but here they were with him acting perfectly fine not even three hours later.

With that, Allura left them to their own devices. Lance stood, walking toward the pod to run his palm across the cool glass.

“It kind of sucks that we got attacked for that, though.” He mumbled. Advocating for freedom was a dangerous profession, apparently. But… at a basic level, he could understand where the rebels had come from, even if he didn’t agree with it.

Keith flopped against the ground, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Yeah.”

 ---

 Hours later, they woke to cold mist smacking them across the face from the pod they’d nestled underneath. Lance jerked, flopping backwards against the unforgiving ground, only to take Keith’s head to his gut when the latter groggily followed him down.

“I’m dead!” He shrieked, gripping his stomach once they recovered. Keith snorted, helping him up and hurrying off to the side of the opening pod. “And I told you that you wouldn’t have enough time to change once he came out.”

“He won’t care.” Keith argued back, self-consciously crossing his arms across his chest as if to hide any smells he was emitting.

Lance tsk’d. “Does my opinion not count?”

Before Keith could retaliate with something mean,  Hunk tumbled forward. The two boys caught him as best they could while he regained his footing and the feeling back in his limbs.

Hunk kept his eyes closed as he wiggled his repaired fingers, rolled his bruiseless shoulders, and stretched the kinks out his back.

Then, he hesitantly peeked open one eye and shot the two an embarrassed smile. “You were right.” He nudge Lance in the shoulder. “I barely noticed it when I fell asleep.”

Lance beamed at him and, unable to stop himself, wrapped his entire body as best he could around Hunk’s torso. “I’m so glad you’re alright, big guy.”

“Sorry for freaking out.” Hunk gestured Keith forward. When he hesitated, Lance snatched him up by the shoulders and tugged him in for a group hug.

“Don’t worry about it, Hunky. You were so brave.”

Keith nodded, face firmly buried against Hunk’s skin. The two shared a knowing grin, and they stayed like that for the longest. Keith, out of the two of them, was the most introspective. He was quiet and it took him a while to voice his feelings, but both Hunk and Lance would be there to listen once he got his thoughts sorted and in order.

(They were expecting a few tears before they finally went to bed, to be honest.)

Hunk began shuffling from foot to foot to regain feeling in his toes, easily bearing the weight of them both while they hugged out their emotions. It was actually very therapeutic.

Then, Keith slid away, and Lance followed shortly after.

“You ready to go lay down and cuddle the night away?” Lance shot them both some finger-guns. “How’s this sound: you, me, Mullet over there, and some fluffy Altean pillows?”

Hunk was ready to agree until Keith shot forward, almost literally smacking Lance’s hands down. “No way. He needs peace and quiet after all of that. We’re just going to walk him back to his room and make sure he’s comfortable, and then we’re leaving him alone.”

Lance sputtered, taking a step into Keith’s personal space. “Uh— I don’t think so. You and I both were more worried than… than… a worrywart, and now you just want to leave him by himself?” He pfft’d.

Keith took a matching step forward, and their foreheads nearly banged together. “He needs time to relax.” He shot back, and the two broke out into a heated argument over their decision. Hunk sighed, glancing up at the ceiling as if it had any answers for him.

Then, he cut between the two of them and kissed them soundly on the cheek. Almost immediately, their words died down, and Hunk gifted them with a beaming grin.

“How about we get something to eat first? And then we figure out what to do after.”

The two stuttered out embarrassed agreements, which honestly was the cutest thing Hunk had ever seen, and he wrapped them up in an even tighter hug than before as he dragged them off towards the kitchens for a well-deserved late night snack and some warm cuddles to last them through the night.

They ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms, heads knocked together on the couch with a bowl of crunchy, sweet snacks stuffed between their legs.

And— if he learned anything from this situation, Hunk was glad that it was this:

There was no better feeling than waking up with the two people you loved right there with you, safely nestled in your arms.

#klunk #voltron #vld #hunk whump #blood #tw #oh geez #what do i tag this as #kinda whump

[edogawatranslations]

999: Alterna (1) - Part 1, Chapters 1-2

Table of Contents | Previous: Part 0, Chapter 0

Part One - A Chance Encounter

Chapter 1

...I.

Chapter 2

A piercing sound jolted me awake.

Reflexively, I sat up, immediately whacking my head against a hard surface. For some reason, the ceiling was at an unfamiliar height.

The severe pain made my vision shake. To steady myself, I tried twisting my body to rest my hands on the ground, but there was nothing but air. I lost my balance and crashed onto the gray floor.

Some sort of flat object fell off my body and slid across the floor. What was that? I thought. Despite my efforts, I was unable to turn my head in its direction. My back had slammed onto the floor, making it difficult to breathe.

"Ow... What the hell is going on?"

It took a minute, but I was finally able to properly voice my thoughts. My lips must have gotten cut, since the metallic taste of blood permeated my mouth.

While still on my back, I looked around. A triple bunk bed towered next to me. I must have fallen from the top bunk.

My vision started to quiver once more.

This isn’t good. Did I hit my head that hard?

I sat up in a daze. All of my joints creaked, emitting an unpleasant sound like that of an old, rusty machine. A numbing pain pounded in my head and quickly shot to my limbs.

I stood up carefully, attempting to slowly move my joints. I seemed to be alright. None of my bones were broken, at least. After a couple of deep breaths, most of the pain subsided. But the dizziness persisted. The moment I tried taking a step forward, I lost my balance and had to catch myself with both hands against the floor.

...Huh?

Small vibrations shot through my palms.

Wait a second. This isn’t just dizziness.

I looked up and surveyed my surroundings once again. The entire room was shaking.

An earthquake? No, these vibrations are too small and unnatural. Then what could it be?

Suddenly, my mind caught up with my body, causing a wave of confusion to wash over me.

Where... am I?

An unfamiliar room. A plain triple bunk bed covered only with thin sheets. Adjacent to the bed, an unlit antique stove that looked like it was from the 1800s. A wooden floor coated with a thin layer of dust.

Feeling a sudden chill, I rubbed my arms. The cold air somehow even penetrated my thick jeans.

Turning my head, I shifted my gaze to the right of the bed. A round window was set into the dark-colored wall, kind of like the inside of a ship.

...a ship?

My eyes widened.

Am I on a ship?

As I stood there dumbfounded, footsteps echoed from behind me.

"Who’s there!?"

I turned to look for the source of the sound, only to discover a dark, stained iron door that towered like a stone monument.

An intense feeling of dread welled up from within me. Up until this point, I had only sensed a vague uneasiness, but now, my mind cowered with pure terror.

The number [5] was scribbled on the door with red paint, almost like it was written in blood.

"What the hell does this [5] mean?"

As if those words were a trigger, the vibrations emanating from the floor came to an abrupt halt. A cold silence now filled the room, broken only by the occasional creaking of metal from somewhere far away.

Upon hearing that eerie, unfamiliar sound, my heart pounded against my chest. It was clear to me now that I had gotten dragged into something exceptionally terrible.

Footsteps reverberated from behind the door, this time more hurriedly than before. Whoever was outside must have been in quite the rush.

I walked up to the door and gripped the L-shaped handle. No matter how hard I pushed or pulled, the door wouldn’t budge. Mounted on the wall beside the door was a card reader device that probably controlled the locking mechanism.

I quickly scanned around for a keycard, but I couldn’t spot anything of the sort. Meanwhile, the footsteps grew fainter.

"Hey, open up!"

While yelling at the top of my lungs, I struggled with the door’s handle. My voice grew hoarse, my mouth started to numb, and my tongue quickly stiffened. With each successive shout, the metallic taste grew stronger.

"Open this door!"

I pounded against the iron door with my right fist, but the footsteps showed no signs of stopping.

There was no way that they didn’t hear me. Why did they ignore me and keep running? Are they confining me here as a prisoner? Am I being abducted and shipped to some foreign country?

A chill crept up my spine. If that were the case, then there was no point in shouting for help.

I thrust my hand into my jacket’s right pocket. My cell phone was gone; whoever locked me in here must have swiped it.

All of a sudden, a memory flashed into my mind.

--

It was just past midnight.

After finishing my shift at my part-time job, I dragged my exhausted body back home to my cramped one-room apartment.

Immediately upon returning home, I threw myself onto the sofa without even bothering to turn on a light. Staring blankly at the shadowy ceiling, I sighed.

Less than half a year remained until graduation, and I still hadn’t found a job. A couple of my friends who had worse grades and were clearly less talented than me already managed to land positions at top-tier companies. I felt more and more like time was running out.

But even with the mounting pressure, no matter what I attempted, no matter what I did, I would always end up accomplishing absolutely nothing. Despite having existed in this world for 21 years, this was the first time that I realized just how incapable I truly was.

I had survived all these years without experiencing any hardships or failures. Rather than question or rebel against the adults around me, I obediently followed their every word and didn’t so much as even think about objecting to such a lifestyle. Looking back, that probably wasn’t the best idea. Now, approaching the first of life’s many crossroads, I was at a complete and utter loss over what to do. My mind balked at every possible course of action. What did I want to accomplish? What was my dream for the future? I didn’t have an answer to anything.

At this rate, it was clear that I wouldn’t be able to push myself through the lengthy job hunting process. Did I want to continue onto graduate school instead? Not really. Courtesy of my lifelong slothfulness, nothing in this world remotely interested me.

I flipped onto my side. The moonlight filtered into the room, casting a dim glow over my belongings.

Magazines piled up, textbooks covered with dust, CD cases scattered about, jeans and T-shirts strewn all over the floor... the ever-unchanging scene that greeted me day in and day out. Except for one unusual thing.

The brisk, autumn-scented night air blew into the room, causing the white-laced curtains to gently sway.

...When did I open the window? I asked myself, scratching my head. Anyways, if I leave it like this, I’ll catch a cold.

I got up and made my way to the window. I stuck my head and glanced around, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The cold air tickled my nostrils, causing me to sneeze uncontrollably.

The moment I shut the window, I saw it. A silhouette reflected on the windowpane.

"...Huh?"

It wasn’t me. The figure was wearing some sort of gas mask.

Panicked, I spun my body around. A ghostly figure clad entirely in black stood before me. Air hissed out from the mouthpiece. Although the mask completely concealed his face, for some reason, I could tell that he was smirking.

White smoke filled the air between us, spreading a sweet olive fragrance throughout the room.

Who are you?

I tried to shout, but no noise emerged from my throat. Every last ounce of energy was being drained from my body. My knees gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

What... are you planning on doing with me?

With what little strength remained, I gazed towards the apparition. Smoke billowed out from a small grenade-shaped object in his right hand.

"Consider yourself honored. You have been chosen."

A robotic voice echoed out from the gas mask.

"I shall have you participate in a game. The Nonary Game... A game where you will put your life on the line."

That was all I could remember.

--

Violent shaking caused my mind to snap back to the present. I brought my ear closer to the door, but the footsteps had disappeared.

"Shit!"

I slammed both of my fists against the wall and gnawed at my lip in frustration.

"...Huh?"

I momentarily became paralyzed with shock. A strange bracelet was wrapped around my left wrist.

"What the hell is this?" I mumbled.

The bracelet featured a digital display in its center. At first glance, it seemed like a watch, but the display only showed a single number:

[5]

Taking a step back, I looked at the number on the door. Sure enough, it was also a [5].

I recalled hearing gruesome war stories about how prison wardens branded captives with unique numbers to keep track of them. My body trembled. Did this bracelet serve a similar function?

I frantically twisted my wrist to find a way to unfasten the bracelet, but there weren’t any clasps or buckles.

Giving up, I reexamined the face of the bracelet. Two protrusions jutted out from its sides - one on the left, one on the right. They resembled knobs on a watch, but I couldn’t turn or pull either of them. Pressing them randomly also proved fruitless.

There was no choice but to escape from this room.

While calming myself down, I carefully looked around. If the door wouldn’t open, then there was only one way out of here - the window.

I turned away from the door and rushed to the window. It wasn’t large, but it appeared just wide enough for my body to squeeze through.

I inched closer to look outside. However, I couldn’t see anything except pitch-black darkness, rendering me completely clueless as to what lay beyond the glass.

I tried to get a closer look at the darkness, when suddenly -

A sharp explosive sound like the crack of a whip shot out from inches away. Immediately afterwards, a lightning bolt-shaped crack formed on the glass. Shockwaves rippled through my mind.

This is bad.

The cracks expanded, covering the entire window in the blink of an eye.

"Get away from there!" I heard from somewhere nearby. Instinctively, I stepped back from the window.

"Run!"

The next moment, the window shattered.

Next: Part 1, Chapters 3-4

#999 alterna #9 hours 9 persons 9 doors #nine hours nine persons nine doors #zero escape

[inyri]

Equivalent Exchange (an SWTOR story: Chapter Nineteen- Bright Spot

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

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

Comments are always appreciated! If you prefer, you can also visit:

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction Dot Net

(Another long chapter. Nearly at the end of the flashbacks now.)

Chapter Nineteen: Bright Spot

16 ATC. Rishi.

Even when Theron hits the ground he doesn’t wake, though he does curl in on himself with a muffled groan as Lana comes running from inside with Jakarro at her heels.

Alive, at least. For a moment as Nine watched him fall she thought that might have been the end of it, that she’d missed something despite the kolto- but no, when she kneels beside him in the dirt, pulls her gloves off to lift his head with clean hands, she can feel his ragged breath on her palms.

“Help me,” she says again, “I can’t lift him by myself.”

Jakarro pushes past Lana and lifts Theron from her arms, scooping him up like he weighs nothing at all. Turning back toward the hut he growls at Lana, long and low and requiring no translation; the noise of it vibrates through the ground beneath her knees and prickles the hair on the back of her neck and only when Jakarro passes back through the open door and out of line of sight of Lana does he stop. Kaliyo, hidden somewhere inside behind the curve of the wall, swears, followed by a loud clattering and something fragile-sounding hitting the ground.

Still on her knees, she rubs her hands against her face, pushing the tension from her temples and the fatigue from her eyes- no time to be tired yet, with far too much to do and only a few hours left with Revan’s trap unsprung. When she looks up again Lana’s staring at her, teeth sunk into her lower lip.

“You’ve got-” Lana gestures to her own face- “here-”

When she glances down her palms are red-smeared, messy, and she can only imagine what her face looks like; she’s usually got a nose for blood but she hadn’t even noticed this time, nostrils still clogged with grenade smoke and speeder exhaust. One of Theron’s injuries must have opened up again when he fell, his blood on her hands from her failed attempt to catch him.

“Theron’s. Not mine.” She shakes her head, rocking back on her heels as she wipes her hands clean on her thighs, stains disappearing against the black of her armor. “A little too on-the-nose, hm?”

Lana starts to answer but seems to think better of it, closing her mouth just as she opens it, so fast that her teeth click audibly. Instead she pulls a cloth from her pocket and dampens it with water from the canteen at her belt, crouches beside her and starts to scrub the blood from her cheeks and forehead, from her eyelids when she closes them again, and when she is finished there she lifts one of her hands and then the other and cleans them too.

There’s still a thin red line along the edge of her left thumbnail when Kaliyo sticks her head out the door. “Hey. You have any adrenal stims left? I want to try something.”

“Yes.” She sighs, pushes herself to her feet as Lana does the same. She’s been kneeling perhaps a minute, likely less, but it feels like an age. “One. Hold on.”

Stars, she’s tired.

(I was saving that adrenal for myself, she says. I knew I wouldn’t have a chance to sleep. But he needed it more than I did.

Lana nods. Theron appreciated it, I know. When he came to Asylum, after he’d quit the SIS, we did talk. Not about what happened, not directly, but- interlacing her fingers, stretching, Lana stifles a yawn. It’s late and she’s talked too much, probably; she never could tell a short story- about you. He felt like he owed you, I think, although I got the impression it was rather more involved than that.

That’s… she chuckles. Involved is one word for it, but that’s getting ahead of ourselves. I do have a question, though.

Hm?

After Jakarro took Theron inside, when you were getting the blood off my face- do you remember what you were going to say?

In profile she can see the corner of Lana’s mouth curve, up and then down, her eyes closing for half a heartbeat before she speaks. Not verbatim, no, but I remember thinking you were wrong about it being literal.

How so?

Lowering her arms from their stretched position, Lana looks down contemplatively at her own fingers. My hands were clean.)

Inside, Theron’s laid out on the table that had held their monitoring equipment, nose bleeding in a trickle that collects in the bow of his upper lip, still semi-conscious despite four empty vials of kolto on the ground nearby as she presses the stim into Kaliyo’s outstretched hand. “You wanted to try something?”

“Yeah. Check his pupils.” Kaliyo opens one of his eyes carefully with the pressure of her index finger on the crease of his eyelid. “Figure the stim might wake him up, at least.”

She looks closer- hm. Constricted, smaller than they should be even when she pulls a light from her pocket and shines it obliquely onto his face. “I don’t think they were like this before. Either Revan’s people gave him something slow-acting, or-” the beam flashes off his temple at the same moment the thought strikes her. “Or he’s got a pain modulator built into his implant and he overclocked it. I tried to dodge the rough trail as much as I could on the way back, but it can’t have been pleasant- he’s got broken ribs and fingers at minimum.”

“You do kind of drive like shit.” Kaliyo flips the cap off the injector. “Should I?”

“Go ahead. It may not help, but all I’ve got is antitoxin and I’m out of ideas.”

Head tilting in agreement, she presses the tip to Theron’s neck and triggers it.

For a few seconds nothing happens. Just when she starts to think nothing’s going to, that even with the kolto and the adrenal it won’t be enough, he gasps, reaches out and grabs for her hand as Kaliyo holds him down against the table with her forearm across the top of his chest.

“Fucking hell-” he gasps again, eyes open, fingers locked around her wrist. “I- what-”

“Thought we’d lost you there for a minute. You passed out, Theron,” she says as he starts to calm and she gestures to Kaliyo to step back. “We’ve got a little kolto left, but until we get back to Raider’s Cove I’d prefer you conscious.”

“‘m awake now.” He grumbles, turning his head to look around the room, at Jakarro packing up their scattered gear and Lana in the doorway, quiet, arms folded across her chest. “I lost focus when you hit that tree root, and then my implant kicked in-” He seems to realize, then, that he’s still holding on to her; he relaxes, right hand dropping to his chest, letting go. “Think I overdid it a little. I haven’t pushed it that hard in a long time.”

She nods. “Understandable. Can you shut it off for now, though?”

“Yeah. I probably should.” Taking a deep breath, Theron closes his eyes for a brief moment, then makes a face and reaches up and across with his right hand, brushing a fingertip across one of the tiny buttons on the surface of his implant. “Although- ow. Okay. It really, really hurts now.”

“You don’t have a medical station in your shuttle, do you?”

He shakes his head, then winces at the movement. “No, but I don’t need it. We don’t have time. We’ve got to deal with Revan first- the fleets-”

“I know. And we wouldn’t have figured any of that out without you, but you’ve done enough.”

“You can cut the debriefing shit, Cipher.” Snappish, Theron tries to sit up again even as she moves her hand to his shoulder, conciliatory and trying to keep him still all at the same time. “I don’t need that, either.”

“Take it from experience: yes, you do. But,” she says, quieter, “that wasn’t what I meant. I was only trying to- just rest, alright? We’ll figure things out back at base but we can’t stay here.”

He looks up at her, then; she can’t tell if he’s angry or exhausted or in pain or all three in shifting combination, the landmarks of his face distorted by swelling and rising bruises and a growing stripe of blood along his cheek and chin. His tone softens. “I- yeah. You’re right. Sorry.”

“Lana?” She turns her head toward the doorway where she’s still lingering, as Lana makes a quiet little noise and Theron, too, turns to see. “Do we have transport back yet? I don’t think the boat’s a good solution this time.”

“I’ve spoken with your Ensign Temple. She’s en route in my own shuttle,” Lana uncrosses her arms, holding out the cleaning-cloth still clutched in one hand with a few steps in her direction until she reaches across to take it, “but it doesn’t have an infirmary either, I’m afraid. Jakarro?”

The Wookiee, too, shakes his head with a muted series of roars as Dee-Four translates.

“Our kolto tank is empty, alas. Jakarro used the last of it to treat his injuries after Rakata Prime, and as he says, we’ve been hiding, not hauling cargo. The market price for a refill was more credits than were available.”

As she listens, she starts to wipe the worst of the blood from Theron’s face; he starts to protest but at her look he quiets and lets her work. When she’s finished, she folds the cloth and pinches his nose, carefully, and he nods, reaches up to hold it and his hand brushes against hers.

He needs proper medical care. The clinic in the Cove is out of the question, of course- too many curious eyes, even this late at night. That only leaves the tank in Nightshrike’s medical bay, which is out of the question, too, or at least it should be. Even under the current circumstances she shouldn’t let an SIS agent anywhere near it and there are things Theron absolutely cannot be allowed to see, but-

He shifts himself on the table, his broken hand holding the edge as he moves the balance of his weight from one side to the other, his teeth sinking hard into his lower lip muting any sound he might have made, and something in her gives way.

Desperate times, as the saying goes. What other choice is there?

She sighs, opens a channel to the ship through all their linked comms. “Vector? Are you there?”

“We read you, Cipher. ” Vector replies. “Raina has already departed in Lord Beniko’s shuttle-” Lana makes a face at that-

(Titles, Lana murmurs amusedly.)

“-with an estimated arrival in approximately ten minutes.”

“Very good. I need you to prep the medical bay and the war room, please. I’ll be bringing Agent Shan shipboard to use our kolto tank while the rest of us plan the next phase of the mission.”

Theron blinks. “I told you, I don’t need-”

She shushes him.

“Agent Shan. As you say, Cipher.” She knows Vector well enough to pick up the hint of doubt in his voice, but he would never have gone against her, not on her ship. “One moment. I’ll speak with Doctor Lokin and-“

He goes quiet. Over the comm there’s a shout, a growl, the hiss of a door closing-

“Vector?”

Nothing.

“Vector. Are you there?”

”You may wish to secure the channel, Cipher.” He finally responds, slightly out of breath. “We must report an issue.”

“An-” Oh, Force, what now? She switches over to their private channel, ignoring Lana’s arched eyebrow and Theron, trying to sit up again, restless and uncomfortable on the table. “I haven’t got time for issues. What is it?”

When he answers back, she can still hear growling in the background and- oh, no. “The medical bay may be unavailable for the next several hours. It would appear that Doctor Lokin is… indisposed.”

She knows the answer to her next question. She has to ask it anyway. “The normal sort, or his particular variety?”

“The latter.”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, fighting the urge to scream and drive her fist into the nearest wall- of all the Force-damned luck, of all the times for something like this to happen, why now? “Then grab the backup scanner and what supplies you can from the escape pod-” and credits, lots of credits, she thinks, mind racing over possible options before she settles on one- “and the small black box from my bedside table, then lock down the medical bay. I’ll need you at the safehouse when we arrive.”

“As you say. We’ll be there.” The channel clicks over.

When she opens her eyes everyone else is staring at her, Lana and Theron and Kaliyo and Jakarro, with the same questioning expression.

“Plan B,” she says, and starts shoving equipment into the open backpack beneath the table. “We improvise.”

(What exactly did happen? Lana asks.

You… ah. You’re familiar with Doctor Lokin’s unique physiology, yes?

I’ve read his dossier, she says, while we’ve been searching for him recently. He infected himself with rakghoul plague. But-

She nods at Lana. Mostly right. Infected isn’t quite the right word, but he uses a serum to keep the transformation stable. Apparently, one of the ingredients he’d had to source while we were on Rishi was counterfeit, and when he dosed himself with that particular batch- she snaps her fingers. We managed to contain the problem to the lab, but short of caging him there was nothing to do but let it wear off. He was very apologetic afterward.

I would hope so. And you were really going to bring Theron on board your ship?

It was a terrible idea, I know. Intelligence would have had me sent for reeducation for that if I’d still been on the roster officially. But- she shrugs- what else should I have done? You saw him. I couldn’t-

She trails off.

She could have. How many times had she done just that before, left Republic soldiers and agents and informants broken and bleeding and dying in her wake, turned her back and walked away without a single ounce of guilt weighing on the shreds that remained of her conscience? Even when she didn’t, even when it was people she’d worked alongside, it was more out of caprice than obligation: she saved Chance because she isn’t a monster and still turned the turrets on Ardun Kothe with howling savage vengeful joy because he deserved it, damn him, the way he used her. But Theron was-

Theron was something different.

I know, Lana says softly, and she doesn’t know whether she means her last words or her last thought but she’s not sure it matters. I know.)

The little shuttle, meant to hold three or four at most- not six, and certainly not a Wookiee- is terribly cramped on the short flight back to Raider’s Cove. It’s less bumpy and far faster than the boat that carried them over, though, and half an hour later they’re back at the alleyway safehouse.

She sends Kaliyo and Temple back to the ‘shrike. Vector, black eyes glancing cautiously around the safehouse, hands her the supply bag with an apologetic grimace. “Not much to speak of, we’re afraid. We weren’t able to access the medical bay, as you know.”

“It’s fine, Vector.” She shakes out the bag onto the central table as Jakarro starts pulling up maps, projecting them onto the screens along the walls. The scanner, a few doses of painkiller, two more kolto syringes, one patch and no splints and just two rolls of bandages- Theron’s already used twelve and they haven’t even seen to his hand yet. They’ll need more. She palms the little velvet box as it hits the tabletop. “I’ll make a run to the clinic. They’re fussy about Imperial credits, but maybe with better trade they’ll sell in quantity.”

“No.” Theron, propped up on his cot along the back wall, speaks up, pulling a spike from his jacket pocket. “You need to see this. It’s everything I could pull off the terminal in the room where they were holding me: schematics for the jammer, fortification maps, a few messages, maybe even a way to triangulate Revan’s location. We’ve only got a few hours left. I can-” he coughs, presses his lips together into a thin pain-filled line. “I can wait.”

Lana, pacing back and forth with her eyes on the largest map, shakes her head. “You’re still injured, Theron. We’ll need your help with this, and it would be better if-”

He laughs, sharp and bitter, though it trails off abruptly as he flinches again. “It would be better if I wasn’t? Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”

Lana’s face barely changes, a faint grief clouding her eyes for the span of a breath before it passes, but then she turns toward her with her hand outstretched. “The rest of you should start planning, then. I’ll go for supplies. Just tell me what I should sell.”

“Take this.” She opens the box, pulls out a necklace on a golden chain, its pendant a Nova ruby the size of her little fingernail. “It ought to be enough, even at black market rates.”

“Cipher, that’s- I can’t-”

It sparkles brilliantly in the lamplight as she lowers it into Lana’s hand, closing her fingers over it. “I’ve been meaning to sell it, and rubies don’t suit me, anyway- they clash with my hair. Now go.”

(Sixty thousand credits’ value. Lana shakes her head in disbelief at the memory. Beautiful. And you gave it away without even thinking.

One of the side benefits of Cipher work- I’ve collected lots of baubles over the years. She shrugs. That one was a gift, though I wasn’t fond of the man who gave it to me. Killed him the next day, actually, so it seemed suitably ironic to trade it for medical supplies.

Still. It was a pretty thing.

If we ever get to go hom- she catches herself. It isn’t home, not anymore- back to Dromund Kaas and my apartment hasn’t been thoroughly looted, I’ll give you the run of my jewel closet. You can have your pick of pretty things. I certainly don’t have much cause to wear them now.

Lana smiles. That’s very- she pauses. Wait. Did you say closet?)

Five hours before the fleets are scheduled to arrive, she loads the last of the maps into her datapad and finishes a third cup of caf, reviewing the jammer schematics one more time for good measure.

His thumb set back in joint and his hand taped and bandaged (the breaks were clean, so far as she can tell from the shitty backup medscanner, and ought to heal well- a mercy. An injury like that, done with more malice, might have crippled him), Theron’s finally stopped trying to get up and is resting quietly on his cot. The whole room’s quiet, really, with Jakarro running decryptions at the console with Vector’s assistance and Lana still not back with the supplies.

She doesn’t mind quiet most days. Tonight- today, past midnight though only barely- it’s unsettling.

“If I leave in an hour,” she says, looking up from the diagram toward Theron, “do you think that’s enough time, or-?”

He’s on his left side, facing toward the wall, and she can see him breathing but he doesn’t answer; she gets up from the table and crouches down beside him.

“Theron?”

He’d better not be unconscious again.

Carefully, she nudges his shoulder; he mutters something unintelligible. Probably not unconscious, then.

“Never mind,” she murmurs. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“-I have a number sixteen, extra crispy? Menu’s ‘n the counter-” Theron gestures vaguely, eyes still closed, at the wall in front of him. “-oh. ’nd a Goodvalor roll. ‘m starving.”

She chuckles softly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“‘kay.” He curls tighter under the thin blanket, eyelids fluttering in dreaming sleep. If she ignores the bruises he looks almost peaceful.

She lays an extra blanket over him and sets a ration bar on the cot before she moves back to the table.

Lana comes back a short while later, two crates on a floating cargo hauler at her side, and immediately starts unloading, handing her a dozen injectors and setting more on the table handful by handful.

“It should be enough, I think.” She shoves the first crate aside to pull the lid off the second. “The negotiations took a little while but I managed just about everything they had. I thought you’d need to take some with you, too.”

“With luck I won’t have to use them, though I’m not counting on luck today.” Grabbing a few stims off the top of the second crate, she tucks two away and shoots the third into her outer thigh. Her heart rate rises, her senses sharpening as the dullness of overfatigue slips away in a familiar chemical rush. “That’ll help, though.”

Lana nods, watching her as she refills her belt pouches before she turns her gaze to Theron. “Is he-”

“Sleeping.”

“Good. I’ll wake him once you make landfall.”

“You two need to talk,” she says. “Maybe not now, but if we make it through this- it won’t work going forward, Lana, not if we can’t trust each other.”

The second create emptied, Lana settles into one of the empty chairs around the table. “I know.”

“I’m not sure you- never mind.” Elbows on the table, she rests her forehead on her folded hands. “Focus on raising the fleets as soon as I can drop the jammer. If we can’t manage that, it’ll all have been for nothing.”

“We’ll manage. Don’t worry.”

When she closes her eyes she can almost read the schematics on the backs of her eyelids. Good. Ready, then. “Theron was right. We do say that a lot.” She looks up. “Vector?”

“Yes, Cipher?”

“Tell SCORPIO to meet me at the shuttle port. I’m heading out.”

She doesn’t bring SCORPIO into the field often. Their partnership was always uneasy, a thing of mutual convenience rather than loyalty (then and now, she says wryly, as Lana nods agreement- she’d mentioned more than once she found the AI disconcerting, but as the Lady of Sorrows the information network SCORPIO had cultivated on Zakuul has proven invaluable), but sometimes it takes a machine to break a machine.

She needs her. The jammer has to come down, and if SCORPIO’s lack of empathy’s sometimes a drawback, well-

Today she’s not in a particularly forgiving mood, either.

The wreckage of the walker smolders beside them as she crawls from behind the shielding panel. Everything hurts- a rocket to the chest knocked her nearly off the platform; she’s going to feel that one tomorrow for sure- and she can barely hear her comm over the screams of the anti-aircraft guns, carefully reprogrammed to target the Revanite ships.

The sky overhead’s filling by the second. The fleets dropped from hyperspace even as she’d fought, already firing on each other, a Republic strike fighter streaking past with engines ablaze-

There’s still time. There has to be.  

“Cipher?” Lana breathes a sigh of relief when she answers. “Is the signal jammer disabled?”

It hurts to breathe- so much for luck. She limps to the controls, SCORPIO at her heels. “Nearly. Tell Theron to start hailing the Republic.”

“Already on it,” he says, voice stronger than when she’d left. “Uploading the files to you, but you should get out of there.”

“I will, just as soon as-”

The machinery powers down as SCORPIO turns from the console, a self-satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her metallic mouth. “I have an open channel to the Imperial flagship. Shall I connect you?”

“Do it.”

She can already hear Theron speaking to someone as the holoprojector activates.

“This is Cipher Nine hailing Imperial vessel Terminus. Come in, Terminus. Do you copy?”

“I am here.” Darth Marr, arms folded, impassive, intimidating as always, fills the projector display and she has to fight the reflexive urge to kneel. “And you are on Rishi. Explain.”

“There are traitors in your fleet, my lord, planted by Revan. He survived the strike on the Foundry and his cult has only grown. Transmitting files now. Have your loyal crew detain them quickly, before any more damage is done.” (She hates my lord, the phrase like ashes on the tip of her tongue. But Darth Zhorrid, for one, had killed for lesser insults than improper deference and she doesn’t know Marr’s temperament well enough to risk it.)

Marr’s head tilts. “Revan is alive?”

“Yes. He wants to destroy both the Empire and the Republic, starting here.”

Looking away for a moment, Marr gestures to someone offscreen. “Power down all weapons, Captain, and signal the rest of the fleet immediately.” He turns back toward her. “Is he here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t believe so, but-”

A second figure appears on the projector beside Marr, a petite human woman in Jedi battle armor, hair in neat plaits framing an ageless face. “Finally, an open line,” the woman says.

She’s seen her before- years and years ago, during the attack on the Brentaal Star. Her name was-

“Grand Master Shan.” Darth Marr inclines his head politely. “It appears we have been set upon each other by your ancestor.”

Grand Master Shan-

Ancestor-

Her eyes go wide before she can help herself, and it takes every bit of self-control she possesses to keep her facial expression otherwise neutral.

“Yes. We were notified by an agent of ours who’s also planetside.”

Complicated, in Theron’s words.

Quite.

When she returns to the safehouse the meeting’s already nearly ended, the room divided neatly down the middle with Lana, Vector and two armored guards flanking Darth Marr and Theron, Jakarro and two Republic soldiers behind the Grand Master.

She tries not to stare, concentrating on the plan, but this close there’s no mistaking the resemblance. He has his mother’s eyes, and when Satele says it again- my agent- she glances in his direction just in time to see his lip curl as he shifts restlessly from foot to foot. The phrase strikes a nerve, clearly.

“It’s agreed, then.” Marr rumbles. “To the fourth moon of Yavin, to end Revan’s plans once and for all.”

“I do hope you’ll join us.” The Grand Master- if she remembers her from past skirmishes she doesn’t show it, her expression pleasant and her tone even- says as she starts to move toward the door, flanked closely by her soldiers. “You’ve done so much already. You should be there to see this through.”

(That was the beginning of it all, wasn’t it? If we’d never gone to Yavin- if we’d known- She trails off into silence, trying to ignore the knot tightening in the center of her chest.

How could we have known?

I don’t know. But I can’t help but think… she turns sideways in her seat, feet tucked beneath her, facing Lana directly. Do you remember what Marr said? About the Emperor?

Lana wrinkles her forehead. About Revan’s plan? I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely paying attention. Between remembering my death warrant, Darth Marr giving away the Empire’s darkest secret without so much as a pause and realizing I’d just let the son of the Grand Master of the Jedi Order be tortured by his own ancestor, I was fairly sure I was about to be murdered rather horribly.  

It was a very calm meeting, all things considered. She flashes her a smile, just for a moment, before the thought overtakes her again and she sobers. He said that Revan thought he could succeed, but that the Emperor would prove too powerful- for Revan, or for anyone else. What if Marr was right?

He wasn’t.

How can we know that? What if-

He wasn’t, Lana says again, rests her hands on her shoulders and her forehead against hers. We won’t let him be.

She closes her eyes. If she keeps thinking hard enough, keeps her mind on other things, she can almost drown him out.)

Their visitors gone and her crew dismissed, she and Lana and Theron and Jakarro all sink into chairs almost simultaneously.

Dee-Four’s the first to speak. “That went surprisingly well, I think.”

“I wasn’t expecting a truce, I agree, and bypassing the Dark Council and the Chancellor was a neat little trick. Combining forces- we may actually have a chance at stopping Revan now. And thanks to Theron, we’ve got a destination.”

Theron glances at her with something like gratitude, nodding agreement. “It definitely could have been worse. It’s refreshing to see the Republic and the Empire working together without stabbing each other in the back.”

Everyone looks at Lana, who crosses her arms defensively and sits up taller. “It was the correct decision. You know that. Everything we learned-”

“And here I thought we could trust each other.” Raising his bandaged hand, Theron gestures around the table. “If I was wrong, I’d like to know that now.”

“At the risk of sounding egotistical,” Lana snarls, chin high, eyes narrowed, “I will not apologize for being right.”

(Oh, stars. Did I really-

Yes, Lana. Yes, you did.)

“I’m not even asking for an apology. I just think-”

“Would you both be quiet?” She drops her hands to the tabletop and in the sudden silence that follows the noise echoes around the little room like a blaster shot. “Theron’s right, Lana. Your plan paid dividends, to be sure, but you do owe him an apology.”

“Not you, too.” Lana’s focus flickers from face to face as they all stare flatly back at her; she sits back with a huff. “I- fine. Theron, I’m sorry. But if you’d been in on the plan, Revan might have been able to detect that.”

He shakes his head. “You think I’ve never been captured before? I know how to resist. My implants-”

“If they’d figured it out,” Lana says, “if you’d slipped, even for a moment, they would have killed you.”

“That’s… it’s not impossible, alright? Never mind.” Slouching down further into his chair, Theron sighs. “So. On to Yavin IV.”

Pushing back from the table, Lana crosses to her cot, lifting her already-packed duffel bag onto one arm. “Yes. We’ll speak further once we’re there, unless there’s something else?”

“I just need to gather my things, but we’ll rendezvous with the Terminus in orbit.” She rolls her shoulders backward, cracks her neck. Lokin had better be out of the medical bay by now- her back aches ferociously and now that it’s quiet her ears are ringing, and a little time in the tank sounds decidedly appealing now that Theron won’t need it; judging from the quick look the Grand Master’d shot him on her way past he’s got a lecture and a trip to the infirmary waiting, probably simultaneously, as soon as he’s off-planet. “I’ll see you aboard, Lana.”

“I’ll wipe the console while you pack,” Theron says, “and I could use a hand with carrying some of this equipment, Cipher, if that’s okay with you.”

There’s something in his voice that makes her nod. “Of course.”

Lana and Jakarro leave, then, and they’re alone, and Theron rests his head in his hand and looks at her through the gaps in his fingers.

“Go ahead. Ask.”

“Ask what?” She gets up, crossing the room to her bedroll and starting to fold it neatly.

“How I’m related to Revan,” he says as his eyes close- he looks better, less bruised and less exhausted. “Now you know. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order is my mother. Thank you for not saying anything, but I assume you’d like an explanation.”

“Of course I do, though I don’t expect one. I was only going to say you promised to tell me the swoop bike racing story-” she grins as he starts to laugh- “but all things considered, maybe you ought to start at the beginning.”

(She pauses. Some of what he said- I know you’re my spymasters, you and Theron, but I don’t want to say more than he wants known. How much do you know about Theron’s childhood?

Very little. Less than you do, I’m sure. He doesn’t talk about it often. His mother gave him up at birth, I know, and they aren’t close, but beyond that? Lana shrugs. Almost nothing.

Not close is an understatement. You know he was raised as a Jedi, yes?

Lana nods. He did mention that. But he isn’t Force-sensitive.

Correct. The Jedi who raised him abandoned him, too- I still don’t know everything that happened. He was largely on his own from what I gather, hence the stint as a swoop racer… he was barely in his teens then. The SIS came later.

What about his father? He must have had someone.

She shakes her head. I don’t know who Theron’s father is. I know he does, but he’s never told me, and I don’t think he met his father until fairly recently. I don’t think his father knew he existed until fairly recently, frankly.

That merits a startled blink from Lana. And Satele didn’t-

She gave him up as a newborn, Lana. She- how old do you think Theron was, the next time he saw his mother?

Force sensitivity almost always manifests by age ten… twelve at the latest. So even if his master waited a few more years- oh, I don’t know. When the Jedi released him, I assume. Fourteen?

She almost hadn’t believed it herself when he told her, but the way he said it, the way his mouth curled around the words- there was no faking that. Twenty-three. He was twenty-three.)

“‘My agent.’ I love it.” Theron rolls his eyes at the memory as he lifts himself back onto the stripped-down cot, the last bits of his toolkit packed away into the case on the floor in front of him before he lifts it onto his lap. He starts to lift his satchel, too, but stops, wincing. “Like it’s a coincidence we share a name. Like that’s a normal way to refer to your own kid.”

“I’ll get your other bag, Theron. Just given me a moment.” She can’t deny he has a point, though, about Satele. “You’ll have time to talk on the way to Yavin. Why don’t you say something to her?”

“I don’t know. I guess I find it more funny than bothersome at this point.” Looking up at her as she drops her own pack at the entrance, his mouth quirks at one corner into a wry little smile. “Why am I even telling you all this? I’ve fed you people so many phony backstories over the years, and here I’m boring you with my entire life story.”

“I’ve been told I have the face of a good listener.” She winks; he rolls his eyes again, though there’s something playful in it this time. “And you weren’t boring me- it’s quite a tale, though I’m afraid I don’t really remember my family so I’ve don’t have much to offer in return.”

Theron nods. “Did something happen to them?”

“I don’t-” she winces. Careful, girl. Almost too close again, there. “I remember what they look like, a little. I was a child when I saw them last, and I- that’s one of the things-” she has to force the words out; she shouldn’t tell him this, but it’s such a little thing and it seems only fair- “we don’t keep.”

“Like your name?”

“Like my name.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be. I had a choice.”

“As much as we ever do.” He shifts toward the edge of his cot as she nods in silent agreement. “I’m ready to get out of here whenever you are, by the way.”

“Me too. It’s a shame, really.” She crosses back to sit down on the cot beside him, hauling his other bag up from the floor and looping its strap over her shoulder; everything else beyond the tech equipment he’d brought to Rishi fit into a single satchel. With his ribs still broken she’ll carry hers and his both, at least to the entrance to the docking platform- with the Republic here in earnest she likely won’t be allowed anywhere near his shuttle. Alliances only stretch so far, after all. “Except for the pirate nonsense this planet seemed so nice when I first arrived. Warm weather, friendly natives-”

Theron grins. “Not to mention the delicious food, the cultists, the family bonding torture sessions… zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Not an ideal vacation spot, I agree.” When she starts to rise the bag’s strap comes unfastened, sliding off her arm and pulling her off-kilter, and she settles back to fix it. “Oof- heavy. What’ve you got in here, bricks?”

“Only a dozen or so. And all your extra ration bars. I might need a snack later, after the kolto tank and the lecture.”

She laughs. He’d had the same thought, clearly. “You can keep them. I’ve got crates of them back on my ship. So the food wasn’t all bad, then- any other bright spots?”

As she speaks he’s reaching across her body to loop the strap back through its buckle, drawing it tight and sliding it up onto her shoulder. “I can think of one,” he says.

It takes her a moment to realize he’s looking at her and not at the buckle- she was watching his hands move on the strap and hadn’t noticed he was working by touch- and his eyes are locked on hers when she shifts her focus and there is something in the way he looks at her that makes her stop short and-

(Well, she says, you can guess. Not how I would have wanted it to happen, but-

What do you mean, not how you wanted it? Lana, brow arching nearly into her hairline, looks at her in confusion. You’d flirted with Theron all along, ever since Manaan, and- forgive me for this, but you’ve never struck me as the type to turn down a lover.

I do have standards, you know. And we only kissed, then.

Her entire face goes pink. That wasn’t what-

I know. She grins. I’m only teasing you, Lana, and I’ve had it said in much ruder ways by people I like far less than you. You’re right. Some other day, some other person, I’d have let him pin me to the wall and walked out with him wrapped around my little finger- Lana blushes even redder at that- but to borrow your phrase, I made a mistake with Theron. It started as a game, but-

Hm?

At some point, she says, we forgot we were playing. On Yavin, especially, but Rishi was the beginning.)

(There are things she does not tell Lana. This is one of those things.)

She almost pushes him away.

In the split second before Theron’s mouth meets hers she knows what’s going to happen and she almost turns her head, almost stops it before it starts, not because she doesn’t want it- she does, so badly it starts warning bells sounding in her mind- but there is no way to do this that isn’t going to hurt, in the end.

There are two ways this game can be played. Masks off, their loyalties laid bare, the first way does not apply to them. There’s no agenda for her to follow here, nothing she needs from him that she doesn’t think he’d give her willingly, and he’s been played enough, his trust a fragile thing. Pushing it further, asking even more- it would have been a cruelty beyond her capacity.

The second way is, at best, a brief bliss. This truce won’t hold forever and at the end of it they’ll be on opposite sides, enemies. But for today-

But today he kisses her, lips parted and hand still on her shoulder and body leaning into hers, eager, and she doesn’t care.

Theron tastes of caf and kolto and copper-bright blood, her tongue glancing along the cut on his lip as they shift together, awkward and fumbling as the cot tips precariously under too much weight on its edge; her hand comes up, brushing along his cheek until her fingertips glance over a still-livid bruise and he flinches and goes still.  

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and means it. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. I mean-” when she moves she hits another sore spot and he breathes in, sharp and quick, but doesn’t draw back- “a little, yeah, but-”  He catches her hand with his unbandaged one, laces his fingers through hers as they come to rest along her neck and pulls her back in close, a soft hitch in his voice that hits her at the core like lightning. “I don’t care-”

And then they are lost, for a short shining moment, lost in kisses and the brush of fingertips on skin and the gasping little noises they make against each other’s mouths, hands starting to seek out the edges of clothing. Theron’s satchel digs into her back as she leans into the wall, his weight settling against her.

(It was no grand story, this thing of theirs, at its beginning- no birds singing with the sunrise, none of the sweetness of a romance vid or a children’s story. It was something harder, born of adrenaline and probably a little spite and under it all pure visceral want- an implosion grenade, two bodies together at the center of a swirling disaster with only the contact between them keeping the world from collapsing in on itself-

Or a better analogy, perhaps: the vortex above a sinking ship, too many near-misses and near-deaths and more still coming, dragging them down into cold and darkness. They cannot get clear of it- it’s far too late for that- so when it starts to pull the only thing to do is fill one’s lungs and fight toward the surface, toward light and heat.

And ah, stars, he is bright, then and now, and it took her far too long to realize that she was the same for him.)

Outside, in the alley, someone shouts and she and Theron both startle, looking to the entrance.

“Is that-” he tries to push himself up, but his good hand’s behind her, caught in her hair and the collar of her jacket- “damn it, that had better not be-”

“Just outside, I think,” she pants, bracing herself against the wall so he can move. “We’re okay.”

Theron nods. “We’re… yeah.” He looks at her, then, as they both struggle upright, both flushed and breathless and rumpled. “Force. I’m sorr-”

She presses two fingers to his mouth before he can finish the thought; he kisses them, unthinking, and she grins as he starts to apologize again. “Don’t. Am I complaining?”

“No.” He returns her grin as she lowers her hand. “No, you aren’t.”

“Then-” she hooks the collar of his undershirt, pulls him toward her- “shut up and-”

Her comm rings. Though she silences it- only someone shipboard, probably wondering where she is- when she looks up again the moment’s passed.

“We should probably go,” Theron says with a sigh, untangling from her, starting to stand. “I need to catch the fleet before it jumps to hyperspace, and I assume you do, too.”

“I do. Though I can think of a few things I’d rather be doing.” She rises, too, lifting his bag along with her, her voice wrapped low and sly around the words to mask her frustration, which is a problem- for fuck’s sake, he’s the Grand Master’s son, what is she doing-

‘You and me both.” He turns toward her, and as she lifts the satchel onto her shoulder he reaches out, one more time, to adjust the strap.

If they brush against each other every so often as they walk through the market they blame it on healing injuries and heavy bags. As she expected, there are guards now, posted both on Nightshrike and on Theron’s shuttle, and the armored figures on both sides stand at attention as they approach.

“I’ll see you when we get to Yavin. I’m sure we’ll have things to catch up on by then,” she murmurs as she hands him the bag, quiet enough the trooper guarding his shuttle can’t hear.

“I can think of a few.”

Author’s note:

The voodoo worked, apparently.

Apologies for the long delay. I should be back on a biweekly schedule now, but I had a few distractions last month, some of which might be relevant to your interests… (I’m on the right, of course. You may, perhaps, recognize the other person in the picture.)

Up next: A Brief Bliss,  Yavin IV and the end of the beginning.

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

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Chapter 8

Tilda’s gang waited with surprising patience, at least as far as junkers could be patient. They milled about occasionally, they argued and whispered, occasionally some would leave and then rejoin, but never once did they try to approach the van nor the giant pig-masked man who was standing guard beside it. For nearly an hour, there was nothing but a silent standoff. The two inside the van never exited, only appearing occasionally at a window to whisper something to their bodyguard, who never seemed to respond. The other groups of junkers at the station watched the situation carefully, but showed little interest in intervening. It was simply the way of things.

There was some activity a bit later, when the van’s doors opened and Roadhog’s motorcycle pulled up behind it, passing boxes between them as the sidecar was filled and covered and tied down with ropes. The bikers watched venomously, muttering amongst themselves that they were likely splitting up their supplies and readying to make a run for it. This was proven correct several minutes later, when the van and the hog-cycle suddenly started up simultaneously, and with a rapid spinning of wheels in the dirt and a slam of the gas pedal, the two vehicles were off like a shot, thundering out of the station gates and back onto the dirt roads towards the canyons.

Tilda grinned, shoving a skull-painted helmet over her shock of frizzy hair as she signaled her gang. With a roar of engines, they mounted their own bikes and immediately started off in pursuit. The rest of the station’s junkers watched them go, and then quietly turned back to whatever they were doing.

Bobbero’s old van was not meant for high speed chases, and the whole vehicle was rattling dangerously as it struggled to maintain its own structure at such dangerous acceleration. Roadhog’s motorcycle passed it effortlessly, with the massive junker still astride as he led them both into the canyons proper, red cliffs rising up on either side of the gravel-strewn road as the buzzing of their pursuers’ engines became louder and louder. The road was choked and narrow, and the bulky van took up nearly the entire width of it as it trundled forward, pebbles and debris flying from under its tires.

Tilda’s gang did not take long to catch up. There was no room to pass or flank in the slot canyon, and when one of the skull-dressed junkers opened fire on the back of the van doors in a rattle of bullets, Tilda signaled him to cease with a raised fist. The whole group continued forward, the gang dogging Junkrat’s heels as the narrow road finally started to open back up, the canyon starting to widen. One of the more eager riders shot forward away from the rest, his chopper pulling up alongside the driver’s side of the van as he started to aim for the window. It was a poor move, made evident a moment later as the van swerved abruptly and slammed into the bike, crushing it between its bulk and the rocky walls as it screeched and twisted, sparks flying as both it and its rider were expelled a moment later, left behind in a smear of red and oil.

The other junkers merely swerved around him as they gained once more on the van, the road widening until no amount of swerving or juking could stop it from being flanked. More gunfire rattled the air, the passenger window cracking and shattering and bullets piercing the van’s already-scarred exterior. The familiar shape of Junkrat could be faintly seen inside, cringing away from the flying glass as he struggled to maintain control of his path, rattling about in his seat as he continued to push the van’s limits, moving deeper and deeper into the rocky maze.

Tilda’s bike pulled alongside him, slamming the butt of her gun against the side. “Pull the fuck over, rat! Make this easy!”

The van passed under the shadow of a natural rocky arch as an arm protruded from the driver’s window, dull orange metal as the mechanical hand held up one single middle digit, before a control stick flipped up from being held in his palm, the red button pushed flat. There was a faint beeping noise from up above as the mine that had haphazardly been stuck on the archway detonated in an explosion of orange and yellow, the two halves of the broken form formation crumbling with an ominous booming crash as they tumbled to the road below, cutting off the very back of the gang and crushing two of the unluckier ones.

Even Tilda gave pause, her bike stalling out as she looked back at the now blocked road, choked with a cloud of rock dust. “The fuck? How did- The pig! The pig’s ahead, he’s mined the fuckin’ road!”

There was another loud boom from up ahead, followed by a cut off yelp, and the junker woman snarled audibly as she slammed her foot back down on the gas and roared back after her prey. There were several more explosions from the yellow stickymines on the canyon walls but the bikers did not falter, dogging the heels of the errant Junkrat when there was the louder and thundering sound of a very different engine, drumming in from one of the tiny side roads that wound about the gorge’s floor.

Roadhog’s chopper exploded back onto the scene, cutting a path almost directly through the pack of rival junkers. Mei stood in Junkrat’s sidecar, her canister of cryo-liquid strapped onto her back and her gun in hand, eyes obscured by her dark driving goggles.

“Qǐlái ba!” Her voice was almost drowned out in the clamor as a blue glow appeared briefly in the dirt and the air turned briefly cold, just before ice crystallized from nowhere, packed together into a solid sheet of a wall, aimed diagonally as it turned into a ramp that rose so suddenly beneath the gang’s tires that they could not react. Momentum kept them moving forward, wheels skidding uselessly for hold as they were sent flying off into the air, slamming one after the other into the canyon wall. Mei did not watch to see what happened to them after that, tried to drown out the screams and the sounds of metal and rock, tried to focus.

She had to duck down as the other bikers turned upon her and Roadhog in a hail of bullets. The chopper performed admirably, and she could understand why Hog had been so proud of it. It hurtled past the others as she leaned out, cryo-gun hissing as liquid coolant coated their foes, slowing or outright stopping them in place.

Everything looked to be going so well until the van suddenly screeched and there was a loud explosion that did not come from a mine or a wrecked bike, but one of its tires. Whether from a bullet or from the stress of the chase, Mei couldn’t tell, but the tire was there one moment and was nothing more than a flapping mess of rubber the next as the van careened off course, the driver clearly fighting for control as it tilted dangerously to one side before righting, skidding around until it came to rest sidelong against a large boulder by the side of the road.

“Jamison!” Mei cried out aloud, holding desperately onto her place in the sidecar as Roadhog swung the bike around and headed towards him.

Tilda and her remaining comrades halted their chase, pulling up alongside the wrecked van. Junkrat’s door was already swinging open and he staggered out, his grenade launcher held limply in one hand. He was clearly worse for wear, covered in tiny bleeding cuts from the glass and bruised and wounded from the wreck, holding his side. Even as Mei watched, his lips parted and he bared his teeth in that lunatic cheshire grin, all canines and molars and bloodied gums. He managed to swing his launcher aloft and sent a round of explosives flying at what remained of his opponents.

There were still too many of them and too many bikers between Roadhog’s chopper and their comrade. There was no way around them, and no way through them unless she went…over. She grasped onto Roadhog’s arm, pointing to their surrounded vehicle. “Roadhog! Toss! Throw me! Throw me over!”

He stared at her uncomprehending for a moment before the order seemed to hit home, the bike pitching to a stop as both enormous hands left their grip on the steering bars and closed around her middle. She’d been picked up by Junkrat many times, much to her displeasure, but he had always carried her like a treasured teddy bear, still affected by her weight. Roadhog had no such limitations, and the elder junker lifted her effortlessly, holding her aloft and rearing back before hurling her forward like a chubby human-shaped missile. She went sailing over the heads of the rival junker gang, wind whistling in her ears, and pain blossoming in her ribs as several bullets flying through the air cut through her flesh like melted butter. There was a white-hot agony in her chest as her watering eyes saw herself closing in on Junkrat’s position.

With a pained gasp, that same instantly crystallizing ice spread across her flesh and outward, encasing her in a block of translucent white and blue as her body went cold. Immediately she set about counting. She started at ten seconds, as always.

Seconds ten and nine were spent still airborne. By eight, she was vaguely aware that she had made contact with something fleshy, landing heavily upon someone or something as she met the ground. For several seconds after that, she heard the telltale ping ping ping of bullets ricocheting off her icy shield, bullets meant for Jamison. At three seconds she heard him frantically screaming her name. Two seconds, she could feel her heart seize with fear and her lungs trying to inhale…One second…just like when she’d been frozen before, and it was all going to go wrong again and she wasn’t going to wake up, she was never going to wake up and-

With a painful gasping rasp of a noise that tore itself from her throat, the ice shattered around her and Junkrat was reaching through the shards, pulling her upright.

Tilda’s skull-helmet rose into view and she felt hard metal slam into the side of her skull. Her world, already reeling from her cryo-block, blurred even further as the blow rattled her, a high-pitched whine in both her ears. Junkrat was already upon the other woman, though Mei could only see the hazy shapes of fists and blows being exchanged, Tilda’s hard helmet headbutting Junkrat in the nose, and then a keen of pain as his sharp teeth closed on the side of the woman’s neck in the most primal way of fighting she had ever seen.

Mei was busy trying to steady herself, leaning heavily on the open door of the van as more rival junkers rushed to their boss’s aid, pausing only when there was a loud bellow of muffled laughter and Roadhog whirled around from the back, the crank in his gun turning steadily as bullets and sharpened bits of scrap went spraying forward. What scattered remnants remained of the gang, including Tilda herself, found themselves unable to do much in the face of the onslaught. There was some returning fire, and blood spattered from new wounds on Hog’s giant body, but he was pushing them backward, forcing them back further and further, towards a shallow divot in the wall. They crowded there, trying to regroup even as Hog groaned loudly and collapsed to one knee, his ammunition spent.

Before they could recover fully, Mei took aim and her barrier of ice suddenly sprung to form in front of them, walling them off into the three-sided divot and entrapping them there.

“Junkrat!” she called, causing the battered junker’s head to rise up at his name. “Junkrat, do it. We have them!”

He looked back at her with a black eye and a crooked nose, blood streaming down his face and making his not-quite-all-there grin all the more eerie, smiling through red teeth. Despite his injuries his eyes lit up radioactive yellow as he reached into the back of the van and pulled forth his favorite creation, the infamous RIP-Tire.

“Foire in th’ hole!”

He slammed his peg-leg onto it to hold it steady as he anchored himself against the ground and pulled the rip-cord with all his might, nearly falling backwards in the process as its motor shrieked to life and the spiked tire was sent careening off. The metal shards embedded in the rubber left behind shallow punctures in the rocky ground, before finding purchase on the sheer wall of ice and climbed up, up, and then over, dropping down into the makeshift prison.

There was a very loud boom as fire and smoke exploded from the top of the wall as the tire detonated on impact. For several long moments there was nothing but the three of them panting and the occasional moan of a survivor amongst the dust, smoke, and chaos. Mei decided to leave the ice wall up. She didn’t want to see what was left of anything in the trap. She still had trouble with such things and the guilt that came with it, even if they had been trying to hurt her and her friends.

That’s not to say that they hadn’t succeeded in hurting them. Mei’s cryo-freeze had frozen the bullet wounds in her ribs and belly, chilled so cold that they had effectively been cauterized, but her shirt was still red with blood and she felt the beginnings of what she knew was going to be a rather terrible pain as soon as the adrenaline wore off. Her junker companions had fared no better. Roadhog had placed one of his canisters to his mask and was breathing in the healing fumes, trying to staunch the numerous bullet wounds his body had taken in the firefight. Junkrat had had it the worst. His face was a mess, and he bore wounds from both the crash, stray bullets, and his fight with Tilda. He was swaying dangerously where he stood. Mei hurried to his side and shoved herself in under his arm, though her short height did comically little to support him. Still, his arm moved around her and he offered her a lopsided grin.

“Heh! Hehehe! We got ‘em! We got ‘em good! Oh, everyone’s gonna hear about this one! No one’s ever dare gonna mess with Mr. Jamison Fawkes! Uh, and company, of course. I’m gonna sit down now,” he announced, his voice slurring a bit as he slumped down onto Mei, who carefully helped lower him to the ground.

Mei bustled to the back of the van, rummaging through the jostled mess of their supplies. The science equipment had remained luckily untouched, and after making sure things were generally in order, she dug out their emergency kit, pulling out a yellow canister. Carrying it outside, she popped its activator and set it down on the ground. The biotic field sputtered to life with a comforting yellow glow, and all three of them were immediately drawn into it, even Mei herself flopping down onto the ground as she let it wash over her, breathing deeply as the pain in her ribs slowly lessened.

Junkrat was laying spread-eagled in the dirt, his bodyguard quietly sitting vigil nearby. The younger junker sounded positively drunk, probably a combination of the lull after the excitement from their chase, blood loss, and the soothing healing effects of the biotic mending. He reached out one long arm, seeking blindly until a hand found Mei’s knee. “We did good, ya know? Good idea on Hog rigging the canyon like that. And then coming from the side. And then the rest of the things. Really got Tilda good. Got ‘em all good. But you and me? Fire and ice, we got like…a thing…”

“Very descriptive,” Mei managed a little chuckle, though it hurt. She placed her hand atop his, giving a little reassuring squeeze. “But yes, I agree. We did good.”

Roadhog merely rumbled an agreement.

They sat like that, saying little, until the field flickered and died out. Roadhog was the first to get up, brusquely pulling the spare tire out of the back of the van as he went to change out the flattened one and begin repairs. After a bit, Mei got up to help him, though she could do little more than bring Hog the correct tools and try to clear away debris from the numerous wrecked bikes around them. Even when Junkrat had finally recovered enough to help, the van had taken such a beating that it was still nearly an hour of work before they could get back on the road again, and they left behind the scene of carnage behind them. Mei left the wall up. She still didn’t want to see it.

Darkness fell early in the shadows of the canyonlands, and they opted to make camp in one of the smaller slot canyons off a side road, out of sight. Junkrat practically begged to be allowed a campfire, and the other two relented to a small one. Mei had to admit that she found it comforting, almost like the glow of the biotic field. It might not have helped with the pain in her chest and side, but there was a sense of security that came with it.

It also helped warm their horrible MRE meals. Mei sat on her blanket by the fire, reluctantly eating another VEGETARIAN MEAL packet. Despite being ravenously hungry, it took no small amount of will to keep her spoon dipping into the concoction that was supposed to be vegetarian chili.

“Looks like diarrhea, like the bad kind what’s been in there a while,” Junkrat commented helpfully, shoving cookies into his jaws.

“Thank you for that, Jamie,” she responded bitterly, finally giving up on the meal altogether and shoving it aside.

“So! How’re you finding your Aussie Adventure Tour so far, eh? Hope you were in for some excitement.”

“I guess I was expecting more trouble from the storms and less easily-enraged biker gangs and high speed chases.”

“Tuh. See, that’s just local color.”

“It’s not really what I’m here for. I’m a climatologist, not an anthropologist.”

“Dunno what that means, love. But I mean, you, me, and Roadie, we just took out Tilda’s entire pack of hoons in one outing. Folks are gonna be talking about that one. Was a mite afraid of us not getting through it whole. Still feels like I got rolled by a pack of wild dogs on all sides. C’mon, Pigface, what’d I ever hire you for?”

Mei pursed her lips at him. “Leave him alone, Mr. Roadhog did his job and protected us both.”

Roadhog seemed completely uninterested in their conversation, neither Junkrat’s complaint nor Mei’s defense of him. He merely lifted his juicebox in recognition and turned back to his dinners.

“Oi, I ain’t a knocker, just playing. I guess I did like that bit where Roadie tossed you right over their heads and you ice-slammed into one of ‘em. You gotta teach me how to do some of them icy tricks one day. Don’t really get to see you fighting as much as some of the others.”

She gave a little humorless laugh. “That’s because…no, never mind.”

He arched one bushy scorched brow. “Because what?”

“I don’t like to fight, really. But I can, if I need to, if there’s a cause for it. I shouldn’t get irritated at Winston for not putting me on the forward teams, he knows I don’t like to fight and he’s just trying to help me out like a friend would. But sometimes I think he’s trying to protect me because he thinks I can’t protect myself and…I don’t know. It’s just a silly little pet-peeve of mine. Please don’t mention anything to him. He barely let me come out here as it is.”

“Let you? Darl, you’re a fierce little snowflake what just took down a biker gang in the middle of the ‘stralian outback, you can probably do anything you want without someone letting you. I seen you put icicles through those Talon blokes like nothing I ever seen before. Never doubted you could fight. Never doubted you at all.”

She gave him a little smile, still self-conscious despite his words, but she scootched a bit to the side and then leaned up, up enough that she could reach his tall form and deliver a light kiss to the side of his cheek. “Thanks.”

Junkrat’s grin melted into a more syrupy little content smile, lifting his fingers to touch the spot where her lips had been. “I’m never washing this cheek.”

“You never wash it anyways.”

#meihem #junkmei #junkrat #mei #mei-ling zhou #jamison fawkes #mako rutledge #roadhog #australia #outback #adventure #funkyfluff

[asylum-miniatures]

Entry 4 - big city nights and one heck of a study date

Session 4, part 1 Noises in the night

Last time Draspher made his way back to us after becoming the most wanted criminal in the city.  we all start making plans.  Ocelot and Sim will start making hand grenades out of "wood shaped" firewood and his barrel of gunpowder, and we're planning on robbing the library again before we go to the fight club to get some street cred.  ocelot stay up and makes these grenades while we all sleep.

It's here we find out one of our DM’s nasty habits.  He refuses to just let us rest between sessions and will often arrange something bad to happen at the start of every session.

Ocelot hears a noise and checks the corridor, seeing two figures in black looking in different rooms.  we all get ready while I set up some caltrops in the room, some by the door some by the window.  After a few minutes when they haven’t come to our room ocelot decides to check again. It's at this point I find out that the caltrops I set up get swept aside by the opening door, making those ones pointless.   As ocelot looks out, he sees two girls at the end of the corridor arguing.  He shouts out "can I help you with anything?".  Both turn to him and one shouts out gleefully "see I knew he was on this floor" and charges towards us.

He slams the door and we all prepare for combat.  It turns out that we don’t have to worry about the caltrops being brushed aside.  Why? Because this girl doesn’t open the door, she smashes it so hard that the caltrops get knocked all over the room and the door smacks me across the face before imbedding in the wall.  She then shouts out "Kitty!" before reaching for the cheetah.  We go to fight this girl while Draspher summons a stone elemental in the doorway and every round after that we keep hearing a "whack" followed by it being tripped and smashing into the floor.  

It's at this point I start panicking.  Between sessions I had helped the DM come up with a few characters.  They were three girls based on batman villains.  There was rose (a green skinned half elf cleric of plant and charm domain who could turn any spell into a charm person or a heal with a monk’s spade as a holy symbol), Isis (a human scout archetype rouge with a whip and sap mastery's so she could hit with the force of an 80 foot drop with 8d6 nonlethal whenever she moved 10’ with a 15’ reach weapon) but the one to worry about was Jess.  She was a cross of a barbarian and a martial artist monk (martial artist can be any alignment) and was broken beyond all hell.  She could punch hard, tank like crazy and so fast with double fast movement and boots of speed and striding that, combined with her high constitution, could run at around 50mph for way too long.  She was so fast she didn’t need a ranged weapon, she’d run up, smash you face in and run back before you reloaded.  Combined with scorpion style she could keep kiting us while reducing us to 5’ movement speed and there would be nothing we could do.  Any one of these girls would be a challenge for our party, but the DM had set all three of them on us presumably.

I desperately try to come up with an in character reason why we need to run but luckily Jess demonstrates by escaping a three-way flank to the wall by running up the wall, back flipping over us and chucking a portion of sneezing powder down.

We start disengaging and grabbing our stuff when Isis finally gets in by leaping over the Stone Elemental.  Yurion gives us cover by casting obscuring mist over the two enemies and the elemental moving to engage them.  The Cheetah smashes through the window and a round or two later I follow.  I then find out that there are six guys in the alleyway waiting for us, surrounding an unconscious cheetah that had knocked itself out from the fall.  With a masterful twirl, I summersault out of the window and land silently without alerting any of the guards.  Sim follows, flubs her roll and I somehow dodge out of the way still not noticed by the guards, as she lands face first into the floor where I was standing just a second before.  Yurion comes up with a plan to cross the gap to the next roof with Ocelot.  She takes a running leap and casts a self-targeted levitation spell, granting just enough to cross the 15’ gap between her and the next roof while ocelot just makes the jump across, catching the edge and getting Yurion to help pull him up.

Draspher comes up with a decent escape plan, turning invisible during this and tries to go out of the front door.  He makes it past Jess and Isis.  However, when he gets in the corridor his invisibility wears off (probably a purge invisibility spell), sees rose.  Calm as anything he tries to walk past her.  She just grabs him and rebuffs his assertions they have mistaken him for someone else.  She knows he’s the one they were sent for and proceeds to charm person his gullible ass

While I sneak off, Harley leaps across this gap like its nothing, getting father than Yurion and Ocelot had gotten, cutting off their escape.  Seeing no way out, Yurion surrenders and instructs us to do the same while I watch from around the corner, trying to come up with a way to save them.

Part two a, the social club

Jess just flips from smashing our faces in to "ok, sure".  This huge fat half-orc (He was using a double sized marker for this guy.  It’s only later we find out he used enlarge person on himself to intimidate people rather than being 10’ wide) then strolls into our room and from my vantage point at the end of the alleyway I can see a crap ton of grunts guarding the front.  This guy introduces himself as the lieutenant Draspher had met before, and tells Yurion he had a deal with Draspher.  The others agree to go with him to the club to talk business, with Yurion and Draspher go in a steam punk limo while everyone else gets in a cart.  Not wanting to split the party, I jump on the back hitch a lift on the outside (I was not going to surrender myself no matter what) and they begin talks.

The lieutenant explains that he wants our help to break into a vault to secure funds.  Yurion nearly blows our cover by going in to hard about wanting to overthrow the system (I face palm so hard at this, I swear I am the only person on the table with IRL face skills to see how dumb that was) but some bluffing from Draspher about how she paid a lot of money for this info and Yurion explaining that she really hates the system and will do anything to help overthrow it.

it is at this point I fail my strength roll, fall of the cart with a cry of "son of a *whack*" but catch up.  The DM has me roll a wisdom roll and I realise I could just hold on the roof without constant checks.  Not relevant but it was funny.

Finally, we make it to the bar we were told about before.  I jump of the roof and hide while everyone else is escorted into the club and told to occupy themselves until called for.  Everyone goes into the club and they start splitting into separate things.  Draspher starts using predisposition to make cards to stack (he really likes that spell and tries to solve any problem with that one first) while ocelot sits in a chair, orders a drink and starts throwing small stones to knock his tower over.  Sim goes with Rose to heal his cheetah and Rose proceeds to try and intimidate her with a mixture of healing and aggressive groping (she "layed her hands" on a very sensitive area on sim while staring at her straight in her eyes the entire time) and the others chat with Jess next to a huge cage for wresting fights.  Two thieves are fighting to the death as punishment for stealing from the boss, winner gets to live.

I meanwhile decide to infiltrate the club.  I pull out one of my spare outfits and dress as a cleric.  When I try to get in I am accosted by the bouncer who demands 10 gold entry fee.  Not wanting to start a fight and since I need to get in there despite him fleecing me, I give a sob story about how I need a drink as my girlfriend cheated on me with the head priest.  He relates his own girl problems and so he lets me in for 5 (rip-off anyway) and I promise him a drink next time I see him off duty.

While the others are chatting watching the fight with Jess I make my way to the bar, sit a seat or two away from Draspher and order a drink.  During their conversation, they start discussing their group dynamic and jess goes "ow, so she's the brainy one (points at Yurion), he's the sploody guy (points at Draspher) and he's the sneaky one (points at me, still disguise buying a drink)".  No one in the bar took notice but that girl is sneakier than she looks.  

sim joins us again and decides she want a fight in the ring.  Jess says we can fight Garry, points at a skinny guy, we see a slab of muscle behind him, but it is the skinny guy.  They get taken off and get ready, Gary in Speedos and sim in a leotard as per rules.  They are introduced as Jess "angel wings" (an attempt to get in contact with other agents using the key phrase) and Garry "bane"

Then the buffing rounds starts, sim has no buff spells prepared but bane does.  So, Draspher greases her and Yurion gives her a blessing and guidance spell.  Despite being unprepared she is damn good at grapples and manages to win despite being knocked out once and reduced to 1 HP afterwards, successfully choking out bane and nearly dislocating his arm.  Ocelot is thrilled as he had a 10-gold bet on her, with 5/1 odds and promises the bar free drinks until 10am.

Finally, the others are told to rest up there, there is much to talk about in the morning (it's 3am at this point) so they rest up.  I let Draspher know to meet me at the blacksmiths tomorrow.

Part two b, My night on the town

While the fight was going on I got the sitrep off Draspher.  I then proceeded to play the part of a depressed drinker.  As I leave a little while later some guys try to follow but I ninja vanish away down a dark alleyway, not wanting to break cover with a fight.  I make it back to our starting Inn and find tons of city guards.  I check the side alleyway, yup more guards so no getting to the room.  Just then I feel a dart hit me and I start getting sleepy.

I wake up tied to a table with a dark figure over me.  It's ninja-san, our main contact.  He demands to know what's going on, so I inform him about how we've been hired, and how they need cash from the vault for something.  He tells us we can't let the heist go off and he can't contact us directly as the main building monitors magic and can shut down magic they don't like, but he can send his apprentice to keep an eye on us and no, he will not itch my nose for me, time for more knock out drugs.

I wake up in a common room and proceed to itch my nose like crazy to the bewildered looks of those around me.  IRL Draspher came back into to room from the toilet, and was very confused about my sounds of joy and satisfaction from itching my nose.  I make my way to the blacksmith, successfully negotiate a corner to sleep in while I wait and I get him to make me a masterwork kusarigama based on my own.

The others wake up and meet with the lieutenant.  He tells them the details of the plan, but they don't like just trying to blast their way in, and suggest espionage to sneak in.  He tells them it's impossible, the plans are held in the library, and no-one can possibly break in there.  Yurion pulls out the books in her bag she stole, and the lieutenant jaw hits the floor.  He tells us that if we can get info great, or else we go ahead without it.

Draspher passes on the message and we all meet up at the blacksmiths and inform each other what has been happening.  We then begin to plan our heist of the library.

Part 3, the heist, phase one

We all dress up as scholarly types and infiltrate the library.  The talks were still ongoing and as such we succeed in getting in with the rest of the academics coming back from lunch.  We try to split off from the group but a guard follows us.  We explain we are going to the toilet before talks begin and he helpfully says he’ll wait for us.  We all go to the toilet on the first floor, and Draspher distracts him so I can get to the third floor, the restricted section. Before me is a huge door that I guess is probably magically alarmed, so I’ll need the spellcasters help to fully unlock it.  

Meanwhile, sim calls out that Yurion has fallen and she needs help.  When he goes in Draspher turns invisible and heads up the stairs.  The guard reluctantly goes in and sim grapples him while ocelot, and Yurion flail about trying to knock him out.  They finally succeed despite ocelot at one point punching sim in the face.  They decide to tie him up, lock him in the toilet with sims panties in his mouth and his "manhood" pulled out and covered in lipstick.

They make it to the second floor and I pop my head down, wondering what’s taking them, and tell one of the spellcasters to come up and help me disarm the door.  Yurion comes to help me while ocelot and Draspher (went invisible to escape the previous guard) decide now is the time to steal books on engineering and wand making.  After much ado, ocelot get the book and meets back up with us, Draspher despite distracting two guards with a summoned dog he is now stuck in the lecture, so he starts coping from his book.

As ocelot and sim go up the stairs, they get spotted by guards previously distracted coming back up.  Sim goes down distracting them while ocelot joins us upstairs, saying she needs the toilet and go to the previous toilet with one of them.  The other guard previously tied up has woken up and trying to call for help with a pair of panties in his mouth.  Sim tricks the guard in there to see if "that woman" needs help, and woodshapes the door locked behind her, finally joining us upstairs.

Part four, phase two

The entire top floor has a minor anti-magic field up.  Minor spells and certain types of magic work but any active use spells will trigger something.  I get the door open and spot several rune traps.  I go with Yurion, using detect magic to mark off all the pressure plates I can see until we get to a giant iron door.  We desperate try to come up with a way inside.  Plan after plan gets thrown out while the DM keeps rolling dice.  Finally, I get desperate.  I go up to the door and press the tannoy button:

Guard: Hello, who's this Me: city secret guard, open up Guard: what's going on? me: we believe that some documents have been stolen from here, and we need to investigate without causing a panic guard: I don't know, there is no record of you on the timetable me: yes, what part of not causing a panic do you not understand guard: I don't know, I think I should call this up with my manager me: do you really want to be the one to call him, breaking the secrecy of this theft and spreading panic across the city (guard opens the door) guard: who's the city guard? me: I am Guard: you don't look like a guard me: good eye (flurry of shuriken, three shuriken smashes into him (one missed from four thrown) for 30 damage)

the others jaw hit the floor at this but we get to work opening the door.  We find the document but we come a cropper when we discover the room is full of knockout gas, there was a procedure to vent it but we messed it up by killing the guard and opening the door.  We shut it but I'm unconscious, ocelot and sim are drunk and Yurion is woozy.  Then the tannoy starts, it's the guard’s downstairs, they want to talk to Garry, he's missed his check-ups.  Ocelot crawls over:

guard: Garry, where are you, you missed your check-ups ocelot: riggght heere guard: are you ok ocelot: yeah, found a botttle of wissssky in ma draw, stonger thn a tought guard: do you need help ocelot: yeaah, could ya seeend up a replacement, I dun feel to goood guard: well we're having some difficulty, jerry's gotten himself locked in the girl’s bathroom, but we'll send someone soon.

We all try to leave but sim flubs an acrobatics roll to jump over one of the pressure plates and the alarms and the anti-magic field go off. [/SPOILER] Part four, phase three, the escape [SPOILER] ocelot starts rigging up a barrel of gunpowder and a few grenades with Yurion to blow thought the wall.  I meanwhile fill up my hand haversack with as many old books as possible.  They succeed in making a small hole and we sneak through to a small recess under the roof.  I guard the hole while sim and ocelot both keep failing to break the roof tiles to get out.  The guards arrive, see the hole start arguing about who goes in first so ocelot shoots through the hole making them panic.  Sim during this flubs a roll and gets her foot stuck in the wall.  Ocelot finally tries lighting his powder horn and throwing it down the hole as a grenade, but messes up his roll.  He misses the hole, bouncing off the top and only my reflex save kicks it through but I take some damage and become slowed down due to my injuries.  Sim realise she's a druid so she turns into a gorilla and finally smashes a hole through the shingles.  We grapple down the building on a rope, me going last.  As go I start to lose grip on the rope, but I just let go.  Since I still have cat boots I land perfectly on my feet and take nearly no damage.  Just then a guy comes up out of the bushes.  Sim the gorilla throws a punch just as he starts saying "an angel.." being punted across the courtyard into some bushes.

This guy was one of ninja-san guys trying to help.  We decide to take him with us, stone shape the wall and escape.  after healing up he has amnesia with no idea who he is or where.  So, we leave him with a note to give to the guards warning them about the heist and head back to the club

Supplement Draspher’s day out

Draspher has spent this entire time in the lecture hall happily copying from the book he stole.  Then the anti-magic field activates, and the guards come in tells everyone to keep calm.  With a bit of coaxing Draspher then starts riling up the crowd, talking about why we need to escape now (helped by the explosions going off) and eventually a riot breaks out, with the wizards charging out of the gates.  He avoids getting trampled, gets given a blanket and a cup of soup by the concerned nurses before using an invisibility to escape the afterwards

Days in City – 2 Explosions blamed on Draspher – 3

#ain't our fault #main story