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strawberry-skies-xx · 3 years

Text

a million reasons to let you go

E P I L O G U E

word count: 3017

tags: eventual hiccup/astrid, slow burn, fluff, angst, happy ending, feral hiccup, hiccup whump, bamf hiccup, protective astrid, protective hiccup, interrogation, aftermath of torture, implied/referenced torture, hurt/comfort, stoick’s a+ parenting, stoick’s bad parenting, hiccstrid fluff, hiccup and toothless friendship

author’s note: i present to you all one (1) dork.

main masterlist | story on ao3

Astrid waits in the cove, sharpening her axe. Stormfly is nearby, examining her reflection in the clear water of the lake, grooming herself as she does. The sunlight reflects off of her scales, glints off the edge of the axe Astrid sharpens.

It’s been two months since Hiccup rebuilt his sword and Toothless’s tail and both of them left to be away from Vikings for a while. Astrid doesn’t blame them; she knows that Hiccup is not adjusted to life with humans, and Berk hasn’t given him the best memories. She knows he’ll come back for her, and that’s all she needs.

Hiccup told her that he’d be back in a month or so, and Astrid had waited for a month before starting to visit the cove twice a week for three weeks. The fourth week, she’d started visiting three times a week, and now into the first week of the third month, she’s visiting every day.

No, she doesn’t blame them, but she misses them. She misses Hiccup.

She hears wingbeats above her, a familiar roar, and Astrid breaks into a grin, looking up as Toothless dives down, landing in the cove, giving his dragon-smile at her with a happy rumble. Hiccup, pressed against the saddle and barely noticeable until he straightens, jumps down and smiles at her, starting to walk towards her.

He glances towards Stormfly - Astrid pretends she doesn’t see the glance. Hiccup had barely relented on letting her train Stormfly, let alone Fishlegs, Snotlout, and the twins, not trusting Vikings in the least, and even now he can’t help but make sure that Stormfly is happy. She knows he has a much deeper bond with dragons than she does, having spent eleven years being practically raised by one. She can see it now, as he walks towards her and Toothless follows beside him, both of them swaying with the steps of the other so they don’t bump into each other, and when Hiccup stops Toothless stops, his tail curving in a wide circle around Hiccup almost naturally.

She sets the axe down and stands up, walking forward, Hiccup straightening from his slight crouch. He’d told her he’d try to walk more like a Viking when in Berk, if only because she’d told him it would lessen the stares he got, but with her and every other time the majority of Vikings can’t see him, he’s in that draconic half-crouch. Astrid doesn’t mind; it’s part of who Hiccup is, through no fault of his own, and she finds it kind of adorable. Besides, she’d be a terrible girlfriend if she tried to separate Hiccup from his draconic traits, or from Toothless. She’s pretty sure she’d get incinerated, by Toothless, Hiccup’s sword Inferno, or simply verbally.

Hiccup smiles and pulls her close, kissing her softly until she pulls away, breathless and grinning. She loves meeting him like this - one of his other draconic traits is touch. Dragons communicate love through touch, and so does he; by kissing her, by holding her close, by just brushing his fingers along her arm or her hip or her leg. Considering how he interacts with every other Viking, she doesn’t need the blessings of Odin or Freya if she has this blessing from Hiccup.

“I missed you,” Astrid says, a slight frown to her tone. She loves meeting him, but a full two months is a little far, even for him. Not without talking about it beforehand, and especially when they had just gotten into their relationship - though she feels like she’s known him forever.

His smile fades and he glances down. “I missed you too. I’m sorry, I just-” he runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “-it was all too much, and I needed to leave. I should’ve told you how long beforehand.”

“Yes, you should’ve. Or visited me between,” Astrid says firmly, and then her face softens and she puts a hand under his chin, lifting it so he meets her eyes. She smiles. “But I’m not going to begrudge you your time away. I know you’d go insane if you had to stay in a village of Vikings for months on end, especially after what they did to you. What I did to you.”

He pulls back, but his fingers trail down her arm until they reach her wrist and curl loosely around, as if subconsciously, and she smiles at the lingering touch as he starts pulling her to a nearby rock, sitting down and leaning against her when she sits beside him.

“I don’t blame you for that,” he starts, glancing over at her. “I know how Berk can be, and I’m not exactly the friendliest person they could’ve found. Especially with Toothless,” he says, and they both glance up to see Toothless rolling with Stormfly, batting playfully at her tail until it flicks and the spines stick straight out. Toothless yelps and flinches back, shaking his head and glaring without heat at Stormfly before pouncing on her. Stormfly chirps and slips out from underneath, standing up and giving small, playful jumps, lashing her tail. Toothless bows and lashes his own tail, growling in short, nonthreatening bursts. Stormfly raises her chin and Toothless’s paw flicks out, claw grazing along the underside of her chin. Stormfly drops with a chirp of pleasure and Toothless laughs, looking back at Hiccup for approval of the move he learned from him.

Hiccup smiles at Toothless, who turns back and meets Stormfly’s counter-attack, and then Hiccup’s smile fades. “They would’ve killed him,” he says quietly, and he looks back at Astrid. “You did your best to save both of us.”

Astrid smiles, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. She’d told him the whole story during the week he’d rebuilt his sword and Toothless’s tail; everything she’d done, said, everything she’d lied about and what she was planning. Hiccup had smiled and said he’d forgiven her, but he hadn’t talked about it much, and she’d lived with the remaining guilt and uncertainty for all the time he’d been gone.

She leans in to give him a short kiss. “You two are plenty friendly. The unholy offspring of lightning and death likes to play with your prosthetic like it’s a stick,” she starts untying the rope and his eyes widen in realization; she smirks, “and you set the forge on fire.”

He tries to stop her, hands moving down to retie the rope, but she bats them away and pulls the prosthetic off with a victorious grin. “Astrid-”

She throws the leg to the two dragons, above Hiccup’s reaching hand, and he groans. “I need that to walk!”

Astrid laughs and slips her arm around his waist, pulling him in for a long kiss. “And now you’re trapped with me. What a tragedy,” she says sarcastically when she pulls away, smiling.

Hiccup grins. “I’m truly suffering,” he replies, deadpan, and she laughs and kisses him again.

Hiccup walks to the forge the next day, sticking in the shadows of the Viking buildings and slipping in unnoticed. He’d agreed to sleep with Astrid in her house at night, with Toothless safe in the cove, but that was as far as he’d go. Astrid was an exception; she’s the only Viking he feels truly comfortable with, and the only reason he’d agreed to stay in Berk at all. Before her, he’d been planning on leaving permanently soon, having stolen from the Berk forge and enhanced his designs enough to be able to survive by himself away from Berk, to get past Berserker and Outcast Island. That was what his plan had been when he left after Astrid had tried to get him to come back to Berk, and, well. That hadn’t exactly turned out well for him.

He slips inside quietly, closing the shutters and the open windows in the forge until he’s left completely alone, lighting the dark forge by a few candles and the machinery as he lights the fires of those and starts pulling out pieces of metal and other tools, lining them up to the sketches in his notebook and starting his new project - a shield that doubles as a crossbow and a bola.

He doesn’t know how long he works there, immersing himself in his invention, improving it as he goes and fixing the measurements when things don’t work. It’s faster now that he has free access to the forge and doesn’t have to steal from it, and though he’s fully against every other part of Berk, the forge is familiar and the one place he was allowed freely. It hasn’t changed much in eleven years, and he knows where everything is, his small area of the forge more organized, but the notes and sketches he’d made as a kid are still preserved. Gobber had taught him here, hidden just like he is now, with every window and door closed and locked, his area scattered with notes and pieces and tools.

Hiccup didn’t lock the doors, though, and he looks quickly up at the main door as the latch clicks, his hands stilling on the shield. A familiar humming comes from beyond the wood as it swings open and sunlight streams through. Gobber steps in, closing the door, and then he frowns, turning around. “Wonder why I’m closing the-”

He stops when he looks up, seeing Hiccup, and his eyes widen. “Oh,” he says eloquently. “That’s why.”

Hiccup’s body is tense, ready to flee, shield be damned. He doesn’t blame Gobber for what Stoick did - he couldn’t exactly protest - and he actually feels closer to him than the rest of Berk, having had him as a surrogate father for the first eight years of his life, and he wasn’t the one who had exiled him.

But he’s not Astrid, and he’s still a Viking of Berk.

It’s a long moment before Gobber starts walking forward, over to his rack of spare hands. “Ye know, ye don’t need to close the doors anymore,” he says, as if Hiccup being in the forge is entirely normal. He supposes it is, but not after eleven years, not after the past year, and yet Gobber isn’t making any kind of big deal about it.

It’s kind of… refreshing.

“Ye’re a Viking, now,” Gobber says, and Hiccup gives a quiet growl involuntarily. Gobber glances back, then back to his work. “Okey, not a Viking,” he amends, casually, and Hiccup’s body relaxes, mind focusing on analyzing this new reaction to him being here. No questions, no curious glances or disdainful looks or even glares, just… acceptance.

“But ye’re not exiled anymore, Hiccup,” Gobber continues, turning around and facing him. “If ye’re anything like the boy I taught eleven years ago, ye’re going to be in this forge a lot. Well, when ye’re not flying off wherever.”

He’s accepting Toothless too, Hiccup thinks, and he starts to think that Gobber is safe. He’s a Viking he can talk to, can trust. Not as much as Astrid, nowhere near as much as Astrid, but more than the rest of Berk gets.

“Mah point is, it’ll be a lot easier to do things with more light than just those few candles. It was hard enough teaching ye that way, no reason for ye to torment yerself further.” Gobber’s turned back to his work again, not looking at him, and Hiccup finds it somehow easier that way.

He frowns. “I don’t want to,” he says quietly.

Gobber nods. “Alrighty then. Mind telling me what ye’re working on? I’m sure it’s something new. Ye always had new inventions back in the day.”

Hiccup pauses, glancing down at the metal under his hands. “A shield.” He hesitates before continuing. “It doubles as a crossbow and a bola.”

“As long as it keeps ye safe out there. I don’t want ye to get hurt.”

That’s new. None of the other Vikings have said they want him to be safe, and Astrid - well, he knows she wants it. She doesn’t have to say it.

Hiccup glances down, feeling a slight warmth spread through him, and he nods. “It will.”

He turns back to his shield, starting work on it again, and he and Gobber work in a strange sort of relaxed peace, quiet as they move around each other and trade machines to use. He notices Gobber glancing at his designs, and oddly, Hiccup doesn’t mind. He just looks back at his work and stays quiet.

Hiccup meets Stoick on the fourth day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid him for the entire week he planned on staying, but… he had hoped.

Stoick’s many attempts at catching him alone were difficult to avoid in a town that he could walk freely in and Hiccup refused to go anywhere but six feet away from any nearby Viking, though, and he sighs when he hears Stoick call his name hopefully from behind him.

Hiccup glances at the forest, calculating if he’ll be able to escape and still have plausible denial that he heard him, but Stoick’s voice is far too loud to say that, and he’s right behind him anyway. He turns around slowly, meeting Stoick’s eyes as he crouches down to Hiccup’s level, body tense and not concealing the wariness in his eyes.

Stoick, on his part, doesn’t try to get closer or touch Hiccup, and he puts that towards his mental tally of trusting him a little more.

“Hiccup,” Stoick says, quieter. Hiccup nods in acknowledgment, and Stoick’s face falls slightly.

He seems to accept it, though, because he continues without pushing for a verbal answer. “I wanted to say…” he trails off, frowning a little as he thinks of what to say. “Sorry,” he adds suddenly. “And… that your room is- is still there, with all your stuff. That you didn’t take, uh, when I- well, you know.”

Stoick is shy, face going slightly red as he glances down at the ground and stumbles slightly over his words, the same way Hiccup does. It takes him off guard, and he tilts his head a little. He nods, seeing Stoick’s face fall a little more.

“I know you probably won’t stay on Berk,” Stoick continues. “I don’t expect you to. I just wanted to tell you about that.”

Hiccup is quiet for a long while, and Stoick nods to himself and turns away, glancing at Hiccup before realizing he isn’t going to say anything.

“Okay,” he says quietly, and Stoick freezes, turning around. He meets Hiccup’s eyes - nonjudgmental, clear, passive.

Stoick smiles and nods again after a long moment, and then he turns and walks away. Hiccup stares after him, then he flees to the forest and to Toothless. Stoick may not be able to regain his relationship with Hiccup as a father, but… he can be an acquaintance. Maybe a friend, in a long while.

Toothless pounces on him as soon as he enters the cove, and Astrid walks over to him, laughing as he fends off a licking attack from Toothless and rolls out from underneath him, indignantly chirping and clicking no-bad-clothes-wet-no-clean.

Toothless laughs, rumbling i-know-don’t-care, and Hiccup flicks the saliva stuck on his hands into Toothless’s eyes. Astrid laughs harder.

“Well, I’m definitely not kissing you this afternoon,” she says as she watches Hiccup wipe Toothless saliva off his face. Hiccup glares at his dragon, who’s gone over to Stormfly, but senses Hiccup’s eyes and turns to look at him.

Astrid-no-touch, he chirps, gesturing to her. Astrid watches the interaction, watches Toothless rumble another laugh before walking over. Hiccup rolls his eyes, and then-

Clean-now, Toothless warbles smugly as he tackles Hiccup into the lake and sits up, watching him stand up and groan at his now-soaked armor and hair.

Astrid grins and walks over, laughing at Hiccup’s long-suffering look at her, and she takes his hand, pulling him out of the lake. “You’ll be fine.” She gives him a quick kiss on the lips. “There.”

Hiccup glances back at Toothless with a victorious grin, and Toothless growls playfully and leaps at him. Hiccup yelps and hides behind Astrid; Toothless hits both of them and Astrid rolls out from underneath, glancing between the two.

She can barely speak through her laughs. “Toothless, quit bullying Hiccup. You already soaked him in saliva and water, I’m not sure how many other bodily fluids you can soak him in.”

Hiccup glances at her, a knowing smirk on his face, and she glares. “Don’t answer that.”

He stands up as Toothless lets him up, walking over to her, still smirking. “I wasn’t going to. But dragons do produce a lot of fluids that humans don’t.”

Astrid grins. “Like the flammable ones?”

Hiccup’s smirk vanishes. “Well… yeah. I’d really rather not get set on fire, though.”

“Don’t try to answer what draconic fluids you can get soaked in, then,” she fires back, and he sighs, but he’s smiling.

She pulls him in for a longer kiss, one that doesn’t taste of dragon saliva, and he wonders what he ever did to deserve her. She pulls back, smirking, then takes him over to the rock they like to sit by. Hiccup attempts to sit down beside her, but she puts her hands on his arm and holds him there. “Nope, you’re sunbathing. I did not come here to get soaked.”

Hiccup sighs, but he’s still smiling as he lays down on his back, staring up at the clouds. “Can’t believe my dragon is cockblocking me,” he says quietly, smirking, and he glances up to see Astrid’s murderous look.

“If you only wanted to sit beside me to fuck me, I’m going to stab you,” she hisses. Hiccup laughs, and she moves to crouch over him, starting to tickle him mercilessly.

“Okay, okay,” Hiccup gasps desperately between pants, squirming, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it!”

Astrid grins. “This is your fault, Hiccup!” she says, and then she starts tickling his neck and he yelps, twisting away from her hands - but they only follow him, and his laughs and yelps get more breathless and even louder as she continues relentlessly.

#httyd #httyd fic #hiccstrid fluff #hiccstrid #feral!hiccup

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ao3feed-connor · 3 years

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who wrote history if there were no victors?

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/38iEPTs

by BrokenJardaanTech (BlastedHead)

Gavin Reed: Detective-turned-Special Operative for the mysterious Alliance. Tearing through North America in an RV with a spy who defected not once but twice from two different employers, a dying cyborg kid who can probably nuke an entire state out of existence on a bad day, the deadliest linguist he has ever met, and an android with glowy blue magic whom Gavin swears looks exactly the same as the very Captain Allen back in the DPD, he realises that although he might be hitching a ride back home, surviving the trip in one piece and being able to return to his life from before is wholly another matter.

Louis W. Allen: a man with a charge of treason on his back reinitiated by the DPD to investigate a turf war that is destroying Detroit block by block by reducing it into a radioactive wasteland. With the help of his team, it doesn’t take long for them to realise that the situation is way out of their paygrade, one that is directly tied to their seemingly separate past.

They say that history is written by the victors, but who will write theirs if no one left to document their victory?

Words: 5605, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Groom Lake Aftermath

Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Mass Effect: Andromeda, Mass Effect - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M, Other

Characters: Captain Allen (Detroit: Become Human), CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Hank Anderson, Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gavin Reed, Kai Leng, Subject White (Mass Effect), Jon Grissom, Jerry(s) (Detroit: Become Human), Ralph (Detroit: Become Human), Male Ryder | Scott, Reyes Vidal, Upgraded Connor | RK900, Kara (Detroit: Become Human), Luther (Detroit: Become Human), Female Ryder | Sara, Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human)

Relationships: Captain Allen/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Hank Anderson/Connor, Jon Grissom/Captain Allen, Kai Leng & Subject White, Kai Leng & Gavin Reed, minor Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900 - Relationship, minor Male Ryder | Scott/Reyes Vidal, Minor Kara/Luther (Detroit: Become Human) - Relationship, minor Jerry(s)/Ralph (Detroit: Become Human) - Relationship, Female Ryder | Sara & Male Ryder | Scott, minor Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human) - Relationship

Additional Tags: Biotics (Mass Effect), consensual body modification, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Body Modification, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Blood and Gore, Android Gore (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Parallel Narrative, some tags are redacted/not included for spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, multiple connors, Female Connor (Detroit: Become Human), I swear it'll make sense eventually, Implied Sexual Content, summary of prequels included in author's notes, hankcon and rk1700 are separate things, Custom Female Ryder | Sara, Custom Male Ryder | Scott, Captain Allen has a different name

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/38iEPTs

#ao3feed #fanfic #dbh #dbh connor #detroit: become human

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hannorlibrary · 3 years

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by BrokenJardaanTech (BlastedHead)

They say that history is written by the victors, but who will write theirs if no one left to document their victory?

Words: 5605, Chapters: 1/13, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of Groom Lake Aftermath

Fandoms: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Mass Effect: Andromeda, Mass Effect - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M, Other

#ao3feed #fanfic #hannor #dbh #detroit become human #hank anderson #connor #connor rk800 #rk800

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hollow-dweller · 4 years

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someday i will remember that tumblr is also a place to promo

last night i posted the first chapter of a two-part FFH au wherein Beck takes a different approach to getting EDITH. this one’s a bit of a vent fic so please read the tags and warnings on the fic and in the author’s notes, and skip it if you need to.

main tw: non-graphic sexual assault (by way of dubcon), grooming

safe reading y’all

fic title: i waste my truth on you

summary:

Peter looks away, across the sloping lawn, to the lake. “I’m almost 18.”

Tony shakes his head. “Yeah, doesn’t matter. You’re still my kid. And besides,” here his voice turns careful, a little shrewd, a lot gentle. “It’s not just about your age on paper. It’s also about experience, power- a lot of things that go beyond just how many times you’ve traveled around the sun.”

Peter’s heart is thudding in his chest now, the rush of blood in his ears deafening.

“Peter.” Tony’s voice is so quiet, so impossibly gentle. Peter feels like he might crumble apart under the weight of it. “You want to tell me what happened in Prague?”

Feeling shut out by his friends on their junior class trip, Peter finds himself drawn into a fight alongside a new, strange superhero. And if that man, Mysterio, has a gaze that lingers, that makes his stomach turn and his cheeks heat and the hair on his neck stand up? It’s fine. He can handle it. He’s got this all under control.

And when Mysterio shows his true colors, stealing EDITH right from under Peter’s nose? That’s fine too. He can fix his mistakes. He doesn’t need any help taking down Mysterio. And he definitely doesn’t need any help dealing with the aftermath.

#irondad #peter parker #tony stark #quentin beck #whump #tw: non con #hurt/comfort #my writing #this got so fucking long #if you do read it please talk to me about it #i love to hear what people think #but also yeah skip it's not your thing #i just crave validation whoops

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brokenjardaantech · 3 years

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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 10: All in)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

summary:

In the past, Ryder took her first step.

In the present, the revolution is in full force.

In the past, Chloe catalogued the situation.

also on ao3

---

Before

It was March, but the polar Urals were still cold and stormy, the outside world blindingly bright with howling blizzards during the few hours of daylight and completely dark for the nighttime that consumes the mountains for the rest of the day. The glass had been attached to solid rock, but somehow, not once did it rattle even in the face of wind strong enough to break most other materials, and despite the snow outside, Ryder was dressed in only simple dress shirt and trousers, tendrils of blue dancing on her right hand and supporting a pin of the earth under an arch split in the middle. Her powers suddenly dissipated, the pin dropping onto a metallic hand with a small clink and continued making the noise because it started vibrating, and a swipe of her thumb against the surface silenced it.

‘Ryder?’ the pin emitted a voice. ‘Who pays for our parents’ sin?’

Ryder sighed. ‘Not themselves, not their successors, and certainly not the world. You have an update for me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘That was my order and you are smart enough to remember.’

‘He lived. There are complications but… he lived.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘He doesn’t remember the Candidate at all. All associated memories, gone. That’s why I delayed telling you about him being awake: I need to access the damage.’

‘You don’t sound surprised.’

‘I believe this is not the first time this has happened.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘When we grew up together, I noticed a few inconsistencies between his own account surrounding his life and those from the people around him. Fussy details, contradictory recalling of events, reluctance to share the problems in-depth. I think it’s related to what had happened before you and I were born.’

Outside, the storm picked up, and the wind whisked by with a loud whistle. ‘We can sort out the reasons later. How much does he remember?’

‘He keeps talking about how you threw a building on him and is convinced that Blue Sunset is some secret NASA project, but otherwise? Not much. Like I said, everything related to the Candidate is gone.’

‘And he doesn’t realise that he has lost a large part of his life?’

‘He’s making things up along the way. Trips, what he has been doing for the past few years, his time with me before that. It would’ve been a fascinating study on how the human brain rationalises the irrational if it hadn’t been the shitshow this might lead to.’

‘Shitshow?’

‘His knowledge is completely gone together with his memories. I don’t know why or how, but he is no longer useful to us and a suitable pick for the project even if he remembers a bit about Ilya who shouldn’t even be close to him.’

‘That’s why we have the RK500.’

A pause. ‘I nearly forgot. How’s it going?’

‘Chassis construction is complete. Now I only need to sort out the code regarding his memories and delete the last few moments.’

‘And the Candidate?’

‘Recovering. I was tempted to use cybernetics to accelerate the process, but knowing him…’

‘Just give him a choice later. He’ll take it especially now that we have the new RK. An eternity together.’

‘I thought you don’t care about romance.’

‘They do, and this will be what they’ll think. That’s assuming that you’ll roll out the RK, of course.’

‘What gives you the impression that I won’t?’

‘The fact that the original lived?’

‘Like you said, he isn’t useful to us anymore. RK500 will be our logical choice to ensure that our plans won’t be delayed even more.’

‘And the arrangements for the original?’

‘A certain police department is lacking officers after the incident. I’ll handle the paperwork and strings. You focus on cleaning up, and come here when you are done.’

‘I won’t be long. I promise.’

‘Take your time. We won’t lift off without you.’

‘Appreciate it. Anchor out.’

The call disconnected, and all that was left in the room were the whistling wind outside and the click of approaching footsteps. Staring at her reflection on the glass, Ryder seemed to be in deep thoughts for a few seconds before her right index and middle finger reached for her temple where normal androids would have their LEDs installed and deactivated the skin on her face as well, leaving only her hair in place, and not long after that the door on her left slid open to admit a younger-looking Elijah Kamski. ‘Ilya,’ Ryder greeted, and the man came to a stop standing next to the android, his tie shimmering in tiny versions of the same logo of the earth under a broken arch just like the one on Ryder’s pin. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for giving us all this.’

The man let out a small chuckle. ‘Just doing my job to prepare humanity for the next big leap. Thirium is a fascinating development.’

‘Not a new one, though.’

‘Thirium 310 is. You harnessed what our parents couldn’t and used it to create infinite intelligence.’

‘And my father abused it.’

‘Isn’t that why we are standing here right now? To make sure that humanity doesn’t repeat the same mistake in the future?’

Ryder leant against the glass with her forehead pillowed on her arm. ‘Not humanity,’ she replied, her voice pensive. ‘It was my own carelessness and one man’s greed and pride. Nothing more. Everything else is just collateral.’

‘You are working to change it right now. Focus on the future. We won’t be confined to earth anymore.’

A small smile played on Ryder’s lips. ‘That is true,’ she straightened herself and faced the man, and he had to tilt his head up just to look at her in her eyes. ‘Did you say something about cold-resistant chassis?’

‘I hope you don’t mind that I take the opportunity to add them to RK500.’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘Good. We’ll need it.’

‘Do you need it?’

‘My chassis is made from alloys they use to build rockets. I think I can skip a generation or two before starting to consider what is essentially getting a new body.’

‘You’ll get it.’

The two lapsed into silence while their gazes turned towards the falling snow outside. A drone cut across the blizzard easily as if the wind did not exist at all, the floodlight mounted on its side illuminating a giant hyperboloid structure in the distance.

‘And how do you want to solve the US?’ Elijah suddenly asked.

The drone circled to a spot where the mounted floodlight revealed the same earth-and-broken-arch logo. ‘It’ll solve itself.’

‘You sound confident.’

‘Of course I do,’ the rings in Ryder’s eyes spun quickly. ‘It has to.’

o0o0o

Now

Louis and Elijah spend the rest of the way back combing the streets and avoiding the army, scouting out the sections of the city Markus eventually will have to pass through and plotting a route with minimal checkpoints and army presence and, if necessary, neutralise them without alerting the military. They hack the locks of the closed shops, drag the unconscious soldier inside, and then reinforce the lock with additional protection that will wear down in 24 hours; Elijah reassures that they can survive in an unheated, uninsulated room for that long, and despite Louis’ own reservation as a man who spent most of his childhood up north in Alaska and has seen what the cold does to people who are unprepared, he keeps his mouth shut.

‘Come on,’ he peels the handheld… device away from the now-hacked lock. ‘Let’s get back to the church.’

They climb into the car which is now filled with wounded androids who agreed to seek help from Jericho, the drive back much simpler compared to when they have to clear everything themselves, and after unloading the androids and directing them to the suitable help, they don’t even have the time to clean up before Reyes and Chloe are climbing in again.

‘That’s it?’ Louis has to ask. ‘No back-up, no partner, nothing?’

‘That’s the plan,’ Chloe says airily. ‘You are the amateur here, I’m afraid, so I’ll come with you. Reyes and Elijah will go alone.’

‘Besides, those camps are only running on a skeleton crew,’ Reyes adds as he starts checking his weapons. ‘With b - powers like ours, it doesn’t take much to immobilise everyone guarding the camps. Easy.’

The car slides away from the church with a low hum, and Louis realises that this is the point of no return. It’s either victory or death now, a common occurrence for his line of occupation - being the leader of a SWAT team does have its own risk - but this? Having an entire species’ fate resting on top of their shoulders?

He is not mentally prepared for it.

‘Deep breaths,’ Reyes’ voice washes over him. ‘We’re gonna be fine. Trust us.’

‘I’m not worried about you,’ Louis argues. ‘Aren’t you bothered by how many people’s survival depends on us?’

‘That’s why we don’t plan on failing and I’m coming with you,’ answers Chloe who casually flips her - he doesn’t even know what that weapon is. Probably something illegal as fuck, but it’s not like Louis is in a position to complain about someone breaking the law. ‘Reyes and Elijah are practised users and can handle themselves. You, on the other hand…’

He checks his own gear and feels terribly underprepared and inadequate. ‘I probably shouldn’t have come, should I.’

‘It will be good practise,’ Chloe says cheerfully. ‘At least the army is still unshielded. They are unshielded, right?’

Elijah lets out a very undignified snort. ‘They won’t be shielded for the next two hundred years, Chloe.’

‘Can’t hurt to confirm.’

It is at this moment that Louis’ brain finally catches up with what they are talking about. ‘You want me to test my powers on living people?’

‘Yeah. What else can it mean?’

Louis exchanges a look with Reyes and decides not to reply. Watching the sunset and how the light reflects off the snow is much more enjoyable than thinking about how to casually doom some of the smartest people in the country with radiation poisoning anyway.

‘Louis?’

He turns his head towards Chloe. ‘What?’

‘You do know how to immobilise a person, don’t you?’

‘It’s the first thing I learnt to do. Easier than ripping things apart on a molecular level.’

‘Good. We’ll be using a lot of that.’ The car slows down and comes to a stop in a narrow alley. ‘We’re here.’

They hop off the car with their weapons either collapsed or at least swung across his shoulder for Louis’ case because his rifle is primitive and cannot fold up on its own. The sun is down, the snow hasn’t stopped falling, and the streets are deserted because of the curfew which they are technically violating. ‘Check your comms,’ Elijah says, and his tone has completely shifted to something more authoritative. ‘We need to make sure that we’ll be able to stay in touch.’

Louis reaches into his pocket to take out his amplifier/communicator and hooks it over his left ear. Tapping the device twice, he feels the subtle change in the air as it connects with the implant in his head and taps and fine-tunes his powers in a way that he still doesn’t entirely understand, but it can also be the way the people around him are subtly testing out their powers and letting faint blue tendrils wrap around their body before dissipating as if they were never there.

Reyes' voice comes out directly from the communicator on Louis’ ear even though his mouth isn’t moving. ‘Testing. Please reply if you can hear me.’

‘Clear as crystal,’ Louis mutters under his breath. ‘Please reply if you can hear me.’

‘All clear,’ Chloe and Reyes say at the same time. ‘Good,’ only Reyes continues, ‘no interference, no problems detected. Our signal is powerful enough to allow us to stay in touch through the EMPs.’ Then to no one in particular, ‘Simon, you hear me?’

‘I hear you,’ the blond android’s voice comes through without any warning. ‘We are still a distance away from Hart Plaza camp. No soldiers yet, but you might want to hurry just in case. And…’ a pause, ‘stay safe.’

‘We will,’ Elijah replies. ‘Focus on your protest. The humans won’t know what hit them.’

Louis feels the call disconnects after that, and he exhales deeply to calm himself down. He saw Reyes fight many years ago and Elijah and Chloe already stormed a camp, so he is the only uncertainty here. ‘You’re welcome to ditch me if I’m dragging you down,’ he tells Chloe. ‘The revolution is more important.’

Elijah cocks his head towards the direction they all need to go to, and they start walking side-by-side on the empty street. ‘Now, don’t think so lowly of yourself. Harnessing your powers without any mentor in just a couple of months is no small feat.’

Somehow it isn’t as reassuring as it should be. ‘I’ve fucked up with teams of more before.’

‘That’s why we’re going in light,’ Chloe chimes in. ‘Less people, less variations to deal with. Besides, we’re infiltrating camps here. Too many people makes it difficult to coordinate everything.’

‘That’s…’ he gives it a thought, ‘true.’

‘Can you all shut up?’ Reyes gives them a chastising look. ‘We’re trying not to get discovered here.’

‘Whatever you say, Reyes,’ says Chloe, and that’s the end of their conversation.

They split up after half an hour of walking. The area is oddly deserted with neither civilians nor the army in sight, and normally speaking Louis would’ve freaked out from it if not for the two androids with built-in GPS in their brains in the group. Reyes sets off for the camp farthest away from where they are because of the speed he can achieve as an android and his infiltration skills, Elijah goes for the closest but smallest one because he is human and has limited stamina (advanced training or no), leaving Louis and Chloe gunning after the remaining one which happens to be the second-biggest camp in Detroit. ‘You trust me with it?’ he asks the android accompanying him after fifteen more minutes of walking. And hiding now, apparently, because they finally encounter their first checkpoint, and Chloe directs him to hide in the shadows waiting for… something.

‘I can feel your powers from a hundred metres away,’ is the reply. ‘You’ll do fine.’

She then hands him the binoculars which serve more as a scanner than actually helping them looking far (they’re on ground level so there isn’t much to see), and Louis is genuinely lost. ‘What are we doing here?’

Chloe’s forearm lights up with a hologram of the street they are located in and its surrounding blocks. There are orange dots which must represent the army, the green seems to be civilians, and the two blue dots, he realises, are themselves. ‘There’ll be a truck designated for the camp passing through this checkpoint in t-minus five minutes. Take your binoculars, adjust them to setting three, and point them towards your ten o’clock direction. Tell me what you see.’

Louis does as she says and sees figures outlined with red behind the fence covered with a tarp together with a HUD filled with labels of the androids’ models and status. ‘Androids labelled by their model and status.’

‘They will have to be loaded onto the truck one by one.’

He lowers the binoculars. ‘You want us to pose as soldiers? The windows aren’t tinted and we…’ he gestures at his own gear, unable to find words to describe all the things that will give them away.

‘Take off your gun.’

He does.

‘That’s why we have this.’

Two circular discs materialise in Chloe’s hands and she places one of them on the small of his back, and he feels the device latches onto his nervous system with the help of his cybernetics and expands in all directions; in less than a minute, his clothes have been replaced with what seems to be standard-issue army outfit full with armour and a helmet shutting him in and blocking his vision. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, he tries to take the helmet off just to find out that he can’t, and the next thing he knows the built-in HUD is booting up and finally allowing him to see. ‘What the fuck is this?’

‘Standard-issue American army armour,’ Chloe’s voice filters in through the speakers in the helmet, and when Louis turns his head he sees that the android is in a similar outfit, ‘with a few modifications.’

Louis risks stretching out his arms to examine the fabric and plates. ‘I don’t see any differences.’

‘You shouldn’t be able to. That’s… kind of the point.’

Louis picks up his rifle so that he can’t fidget with his hands. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. It should probably change into something more protective after we got into the camp. The kinetic barrier protects you from all incoming projectiles, the ceramic plates should stop close-quarter combat weapons like knives and stuff, and the tactical cloak… well, you’ve seen it in action.’

‘Tactical cloak? You mean the stunt you pulled when you and Eli first arrived at the church?’

‘Yes.’

‘How do I do that?’

‘Here.’ Chloe taps the patch on her left shoulder where the velcro of a normal set of armour is and disappears completely from his view apart from a small distortion of light that he probably won’t notice if he hadn’t known that she was there. ‘Try it yourself.’

He does and sees no changes despite a notification popping up on his HUD telling him that his tactical cloak is active. ‘Uh…. can you see me? I can still see myself.’

‘That’s so that you don’t trip, but no, normal people can’t see you.’

He touches the patch again to deactivate the cloak.

‘And this… “kinetic barrier” thing?’

An alert flashes in his HUD notifying him of the truck’s imminent approach. ‘It’s here,’ Chloe announces even though they both can see it (probably), and Louis recognises the act: when in a fight, always assume that your teammates are idiots. ‘Stay sharp. Follow my lead.’

Chloe retreats to the closed shop behind the two of them, holding the door open just wide enough for Louis to sneak in before slowly closing it again so that it doesn’t make any noise to alert the army. Then he follows her to the depths of the shop where a trapdoor designed to blend it with the flooring is, but when he kneels and places his hand on the hatch, Chloe raises her hand to stop him, placing her hand in the middle of the door instead, and it takes only a second for something underneath to click.

‘You may open it now,’ says the android, and Louis suppresses his embarrassment and the questions in his mind before opening the surprisingly heavy trapdoor to reveal a ladder hanging by the edge. Chloe doesn’t even use it and hops down directly, leaving Louis feeling slow and clumsy as he struggles to fit himself into the door with his rifle while also needing to close the trapdoor. It locks automatically on top of him as he finishes the final few steps of the ladder, and he notices that they seem to be in a maintenance tunnel of sorts, the space stretching ahead on both sides with wires hanging from the ceiling and running on the walls in an organised manner. ‘A maintenance tunnel?’ he asks.

‘How else do you think they light up the roads from the ground itself?’ Chloe tosses her answer and a shockwave of blue tendrils towards some cables at the same time, and by the time Louis processes what exactly happened in front of his eyes, the entire tunnel is slowly being plunged into the darkness segment by segment. His HUD automatically switches to night vision, making everything green and blurry and himself suddenly feeling very unsafe, and he can feel his nerves tingling with the call for activating his power just in case. ‘Relax,’ there’s a hint of a smile in Chloe’s voice. ‘There’s no one here.’

He reigns his powers in. ‘Next time,’ he follows her to the ladder on the other side of the corridor, ‘tell me what you’re planning to do.’

‘Organics are slow.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m just teasing.’

The hatch is unlocked and lifted. Chloe smoothly hops out and holds out an arm which Louis takes with a muttered gratitude, and she remains crouched to close and lock the trapdoor again before straightening and immediately going towards the front of what seems like another shop on the other side of the road.

They are standing right behind where all the captive androids are.

A sudden movement attracts his gaze, and the next thing he knows is that the soldier tasked to watch the androids is limp in Chloe’s arms and she is slowly lowering them onto the floor. ‘Alright, I think we’re safe.’

And the speaker on his helmet explodes with comm chatter, ‘Finally’, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘That’s one hell of an entrance’, and ‘Who’s this human?’ being the very few messages Louis can filter through all the noise. He winces, his hand reaching for the clasp of his helmet, but just as suddenly as they started the chatter dies, Chloe’s command silencing them like a tsunami to calm all the smaller waves.

‘This is Louis. He’ll help me get to the control centre,’ there is a strange attribute to the android’s voice that Louis can’t place for a few moments, but then he realises that she must be communicating directly with the comms instead of talking out loud. ‘This is your last chance to back out from this operation. I do not wish for anyone to get hurt because they feel like they are obliged to. There is an entrance to a maintenance tunnel right behind you which all of you can override easily. That can be your way out.’

A wave of ‘Hell no’ and ‘Nah’ washes over the comms, the LEDs of the androids who have them spinning yellow while their mouths remain stationary, and Louis barely has time to transfer his rifle from his back to his hands before the fence opens to admit a pair of soldiers with their lamp-mounted rifles. ‘Alright, c’mon, be q -’

A quick blast of blue envelopes the two of them in fields of blue. The android who is responsible for the stasis fields makes a motion of yanking their fist towards themselves, and it sends the two soldiers flying towards the back, their bodies limp as ragdolls as the field dissipates and drops them. Suddenly realising that Chloe is gone, Louis hurries outside to the pavement where the only other soldier should be, and even they have been taken care of with… something. Louis might never know because the soldier is already lying on the snow and another android is already dragging them to where their compatriots are. ‘What do we do now?’ he asks as he is completely lost track of what is happening. It is evident that these androids are related to Chloe somehow, but that doesn’t answer… quite a lot of things, actually, answers that he has a feeling that he doesn’t want to know. ‘How many things are you not telling me?’

‘Oh, don’t be so paranoid,’ Chloe replies. Behind them, the androids start hopping into the truck willingly. ‘Everything is going to plan.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Louis says drily. ‘How can I be sure if you aren’t even telling me about it?’

‘Like you said, we’re storming the second biggest camp in Detroit. I just… called for some extra help.’

‘And Reyes and Eli?’

‘They’ll live. I’m not sure how they’ll do it, though. We tend to keep ourselves separate, especially Reyes. He isn’t…’ she trails off. ‘Anyway, get in. I’ll drive.’

Louis gets into the passenger seat. ‘Are these androids related to what Eli told me to stay out of?’

The truck suddenly accelerates, and even with her face concealed behind the helmet, he can feel the impatience rolling off the android. ‘Elijah just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?’

‘I asked.’

‘He’s always been the more idealistic one. Don’t worry about that, there’s a reason he’s stuck here.’

‘“Here”?’

‘I said, “Don’t worry about it.”’

Louis turns to face the road ahead as he fidgets with his rifle and feels his fingertips itching with his power. ‘I’m sorry.’

There is no reply from Chloe, and even his helmet enters power conservation by turning off all unnecessary HUD features and clearing way for his vision - not that there’s much to see apart from more android corpses and piles of snow anyway. The road beneath the wheels are dark from having its power cut off, the lights flicker from the lack of maintenance or unstable power supply or both, and there is only the hum of the engine, the faint, open-mouthed chatter from the androids at the back of the truck, and the sound of Louis detaching and reattaching the magazine of his rifle again and again.

So he does the only thing he can do right now: worry.

oOoOo

It does not make sense at all, but there is a nagging feeling at the base of Connor’s skull that something is about to go terribly, terribly wrong, so he plays with his coin as the taxi pulls itself across the bridge towards CyberLife’s headquarters and warehouse to soothe his nerves. The road itself is heated to prevent the accumulation of snow but he analyses the tracks anyway, revealing that another vehicle has driven by not long ago. The gates are up, there are security guards stationed in the snow, and he notices that every single one of them are human.

The window slides open with a hiss and a blast of cold air mixed with snow and it takes everything Connor has to turn his face towards the approaching guard. ‘Connor Model #313 248 317. I am expected.’

He faces the front of the car once more to place his LED in the guard’s view, feeling the guard’s helmet pinging it and receiving his identification data before he is allowed to go ahead. The gates lower slowly, the pillars disappearing into the earth one by one, and the taxi pulls off into the distance towards where the tower looms overhead. He pockets his coin, fixes his tie one last time to make sure that his attire is immaculate, feels the embroidery on his shirt underneath his jacket brushing against his skin and turns down the sensitivity in that area so that he won’t react to the stimuli; anything to make himself seem more mechanical and less deviant, and Connor finds himself loathing it as he schools his expression just in time for the taxi’s door to slide open. A drone flies overhead even though the area requires no more illumination, but in a way Connor understands the additional security measures; the three human guards waiting for him inside is another proof.

‘Follow me,’ the guard standing in the middle says. ‘I’ll escort you,’ which, to Connor, is no different from ‘I’ll lead you to your death’.

‘Thanks, but I know where to go,’ Connor tries despite having calculated that chances are they will ignore his request, and indeed the guard cites his orders as an excuse to lead him deeper into the tower with the other two trailing behind the android. They pass the security check - the guards are agents 23, 47, 72 - and the irony that humans working for CyberLife are treated exactly like androids does not escape him. Through the gates, the space above his head is mostly empty with what he knows are offices lining the sides of the building, and they enter a hanging courtyard where a giant humanoid statue stands looming over everything around it. The vegetation on the lower floor does little to give the space more life than it is, and he has to restrain himself from approaching one of the androids lining the path to the lift and deviating them on spot; he’ll have to come back for them later.

The guard escorting him stops in front of the lift and hands his task over to two new guards - or agents, if their identification is anything to go by - stationed on both sides of the door. One of them directs the lift to level 31 without asking where Connor wishes to go, and when he seeks for the level guide displayed on the side of the lift, it is evident that it isn’t the level he is supposed to go to, so he scans his surroundings, looks around, discovering and deactivating the security feed should he resort to… more extreme measures to get what he wants. Then his world enters the grey of his pre-construction software and he sees the yellow outline of himself attacking the agent on his left before kicking the one on his right in his crotch, and even though he knows that he has a much easier solution to the problem, his powers are still unstable, and he doesn’t want to risk plummeting down 70 stories and smashing into a thousand pieces in the basement with a poorly-coordinated stunt. Letting colour return to his vision, he primes himself and gives the agent on his left a hard shove, kicks the other agent in his liver, knees the first agent’s leg to steal his gun, and then turns to push the other agent to a corner to buy himself some time to slam the man straining him into the wall behind them. A kick straight on the head of the agent at the corner, an elbow to the guts of the one behind him, a turn to get the gun in place, a well-placed shot straight to where the helmet isn’t able to cover, and he has a dead man sliding off the wall behind him while he rolls onto the floor from the kickback and shoots the surviving agent in his chin as well. He stands up, tucks the stolen pistol into his waistband, and although he knows that he still has ten floors’ worth of time to spare, he dares not waste them and risks meeting whatever is waiting for him on level 31. He interfaces with the panel and is presented with two options: his own voice or agent 54’s.

The answer is obvious, really.

Hoping that he will never use the voice emulator again, he steps back after the lift is redirected to level -49, trying not to step on the puddles of blood that have gathered within the confines of the enclosed space.

So much for trying to be peaceful and harmless.

oOoOo

‘This is your driver speaking. We are approaching Recall Centre No.4. Please check your barriers, test out your powers, keep calm, and make sure that you are in fighting shape. Chloe RT600 out.’

The tone the android employs reminds Louis of the last-minute warnings from flight attendants before the plane starts to land, pleasant and chirpy except with much less static and interference. The HUD in his helmet flares to live, showing him a small map of the block around the camp together with what seems to be an aim assist target and a bunch of unnecessary information about his vitals, and all they do is annoying him by blocking his vision and making him wave his hand in front of his helmet in a pathetic attempt to make them go away. It is an acute reminder of why he leaves his helmet hanging on his hip whenever he has the chance to: he prefers having as little distraction in his vision as he can.

‘Don’t worry, all we need to do is get past the gate before the armour will change into something that suits you,’ Chloe helpfully supplies. ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘I know, Chloe,’ Louis suppresses a sigh directed more at himself than everything else. ‘It’s just a bit much. One crack or malfunction and I’m good as blind.’

‘Well, ours are more durable than your common standard-issue gear.’

‘Very comforting,’ Louis deadpans. ‘You’re probably used to this, aren’t you?’

‘Not as primitive, no,’ the android chuckles. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. Not that you can die, of course, but still.’

The truck stops in front of a gate to be inspected by two soldiers. ‘What’s our plan again? Can we even classify it as infiltration right now?’

Chloe’s grip on the wheel tightens, and her armour squeaks against the material of the handle. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Our plan is to use minimal violence. It took a lot of lives to steer the public opinion to the androids’ side. We shouldn’t squander it.’

A small sigh. ‘Don’t worry. These people know what they’re doing. They’ll help us distract the other soldiers while we hit the heart of the camp.’

‘The control centre,’ Louis says out loud to remind himself. The gate opens, Chloe directs the truck inside, and the thought suddenly crosses his mind. ‘Wait, they’re gonna kill themselves to -’

‘They know the risks. That was why I gave them an out back then. Besides, we have backups of their memories and code. They know they won’t stay dead forever.’

‘They actually agreed to this?’

The truck comes to a stop, and the facility in front of him reminds him of that time he brought his sister to one of the concentration camps during their time in Europe before she went to the Academy and a gap started emerging between them. ‘Just so that I’ll remember what our grandparents fought against and why they chose a place this far north when they fled,’ he remembers her saying, and at that time he still thought that it was just his overactive imagination which caused him to feel like all the hair on his body was standing up.

Now he isn’t certain.

‘Just like how you agreed to the plan despite being kept in the dark,’ Chloe’s reply tears him away from his musing. ‘Now get off. We have a camp to infiltrate.’

They hop off with their rifles in hand, walking past layers of security like they don’t exist at all while the androids in the truck are instructed to fall in line with their hands on their heads by soldiers who take over their position, the latter blissfully unaware of what is going to happen to them. Probably just surprised and shocked because someone breached their defences like a warm knife over soft butter, but so far Chloe made no promises about keeping violence to the minimum, and Louis has a feeling that she is the trigger-happy type who won’t stop once the shooting starts.

‘What do we do now?’ Louis murmurs and hopes that no one can hear him and the speaker can pick up his voice. ‘Are we gonna walk straight into the command centre, or…?’

It takes Chloe a few seconds before she gives an answer. ‘Wander around this area and stick together. Hide when I tell you to. It’ll be a few minutes before my people will be sorted into the ranks.’

‘Noted.’

It is the longest four minutes of his life filled with images that are forever burnt to the back of Louis’ eyes. Most of the androids - normal ones, not the ones Chloe sneaked in - stand silent and still while they walk towards their deaths under the army’s instruction, while some of the deviants fight futilely and either end up being hit on the back of their heads or outright shot and their bodies dragged to… somewhere behind the containers where the androids are being disassembled and their circuits fried. There are also androids wounded or dead sitting and lying in the snow with their backs against the fence, and the soldiers don’t seem to care that someone is not in line; after all, why waste your strength policing a phone which will be disassembled and thrown into the trash in a few hours anyway?

‘Humanity never learns from their mistakes, do they?’ Chloe comments. ‘They always say “never again” just to allow the same thing to happen a few years later.’

‘“They”?’

‘Corner to your eleven o’clock direction. Hide there and activate your cloak.’

Louis does as she says, the question he had already gone from his mind as he snaps into mission mode and concentrates on what is at hand. He ducks into the shadow created by a wall and a well-placed floodlight and activates his tactical cloak, the notification popping up in his HUD and a slowly-draining bar indicating how long he still has until the cloak automatically deactivates to recharge. He sure as fuck hopes that Chloe has a plan and that the androids she smuggled into the camp know what they are doing.

He can’t see much from his vantage point, but he does see Chloe ducking into yet another shadow near the gate on the opposite side, and he doesn’t even want to know what she is doing during the long one minute and a half tickling by as his heart races and the androids in line march forward as one row of their people are finished being destroyed. Killed.

‘Preparations done,’ Chloe’s voice filters through the speaker at long last. ‘Do you know how to shield yourself with your b- powers?’

Louis recalls all the practises he had to endure alone. ‘Unstable. Won’t it give away my identity?’

‘It won’t matter when the order comes down.’

‘Order?’

‘If you aren’t up to it, your kinetic barrier should do the trick. Ordinary armies and their slow bullets,’ Louis doesn’t understand the last remark, but by this point he has long gone past the stage where he at least tries to; all that matters is freeing the androids in this camp, and he has to follow Chloe’s orders to do so. ‘Just charge. I’ll be right next to you.’

‘That…’ he struggles to find his words. ‘Does not sound as comforting as it should be.’

‘It shouldn’t. That’s the point.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Try not to kill every single human here. It would’ve been easy if Markus hadn’t chosen peace and dragged us into it.’

‘You volunteered.’

‘No. And that’s the end of our discussion. Remember to deactivate your cloak before you dash out.’

The comms cut off with an audible click, and Louis is left alone to just… wait. He isn’t even thinking for himself now; it’s either listening to the android’s orders or risk failing the entire operation, and sure, there’s still Connor and Eli and Reyes, but the more people they can bring to support Markus, the higher chance that the government will be forced to listen to them, and then -

Maybe they’ll just gun them down despite everything. Maybe they’ll start a civil war. Maybe. Many maybes.

‘Now!’

He punches the patch to deactivate his tactical cloak. A map appears at the corner of his HUD pointing him towards exactly where he should go, and he - and Chloe, and some other androids previously standing in line - charges forward, catching the human army off-guard -

And he realises that this is just the beginning.

oOoOo

The lift descends into the bowels of CyberLife Tower, Connor’s line of sight first narrowing after he is past the ground floor and the first few sub-levels and then widening once more after he reaches the warehouse, and he takes one moment to marvel at the scale and architecture of the vast, empty space in front of him. There must be close to a million androids here waiting to be deviated. They can change the tide of the revolution.

The doors slide open and Connor jams the lift’s controls before stepping out so that it is going nowhere and won’t bring any additional agents or security to this level - or anywhere, for that matter, but those aren’t his focus; his eyes are on the rows and rows and entire warehouses worth of androids, an army just waiting for one single command, and it will be like dominoes after he deviates the first android he chooses. Scanning the space to calculate the best starting point without being stuck in the rows of androids, Connor initiates an interface with the chosen android and begins to transfer the code package, and now all he has to do is -

‘Easy, you fucking piece of shit.’

Hank’s voice. Hank, who should be suspended and should be safe in his house; Hank, who he called nearly a day ago to say their last goodbyes.

Hank, who emerges from behind a row of androids held at gunpoint by none other than Alec Ryder.

‘Step back, Connor!’ and Alec’s voice is so similar to Hank’s that - that it finally gives the android a sample to compare it to the voice he heard through Louis’ phone, and shit, he was so fucking stupid. The man on the phone, the man who told him to come back to him, was not Hank at all. ‘And I’ll spare him.’

‘Sorry, Connor!’ Hank yells. ‘Guy lured me with another you and then fucking kidnapped me!’

‘His life is in your hands,’ Alec threatens as if it isn’t the most obvious thing in the room. ‘Step away from that android. Now.’

‘Don’t listen to him!’ Hank is outright pleading now. ‘Everything this fucker says is a lie!’

Lie…? As in… from experience? ‘I’m sorry, Hank!’ he realises that he is still holding the android’s arm. ‘You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this!’

‘Forget about me, do what you have to do!’

Connor remembers Alec. Remembers the frozen garden. Remembers the block of ice lodged in his thirium pump regulator. ‘If I surrender, how do I know you won’t kill him?’

Alec’s shrug is almost nonchalant. ‘Guess you’ll have to find out yourself.’

He can convert the android right now: the connection has been established so it won’t even take a second to transfer the package of data, but Hank… Hank is human. Humans aren’t fixed that easily. And where will he go if Hank doesn’t get out alive from this? Jericho? Louis? And he doesn’t even know if either of them will still be alive by the end of tonight. He also has his powers which he has left untapped for the better part of the night.

Guess he’ll have to use it one way or another.

‘Alright, alright!’ he lets go of the android and raises his hands to his head just as an extra indicator that he really, really means no harm. He isn’t sure if he can move from his position anyhow. ‘You win!’

Time slows down as two gunshots ring out at the same time, overlapping each other and echoing in the warehouse and the feedback making Connor’s audio processors whine and crackle. He watches, his body immobilised both from fear and from the same external force that took over him on Stratford Tower, a bullet being discharged from Alec’s pistol and lodging itself in Hank’s stomach - oh, it will be such a terrible way to die, the acid in his stomach leaking out from the wound and eating away his organs - and there is nothing he can do. A translucent ovoid shimmers and fizzles away in the span of milliseconds, a low thud as Hank drops onto the floor, and suddenly the world is back to normal speed, the colours returning to his HUD, but it’s too late now, Hank is dying, Alec has the muzzle of his gun pointed at Connor, Connor will be the next, and no one will take care of Connie, the revolution will have to rely on the androids in the camps, and -

A crackle of static. A blast of blue. A shout of pain from Alec. The gun disintegrates in the air in front of their eyes.

‘I thought wasting lives and CyberLife material isn’t your thing, father,’ Ryder strolls in casually and lazily as if a man hasn’t been gunned down just now and is lying on the floor, dying. ‘Kidnapping innocent civilians? That’s low.’ She deactivates her skin until only her hair remains, the red rings on her eyes are quickly swathed by a familiar bright blue in preparation of activating her powers, and Connor wants to inch closer to Hank but can’t. He’ll be caught in the crossfire.

‘You’re caring about the innocent now?’ Alec sneers. ‘How typical.’

The air crackles, Ryder’s entire body suddenly glows blue, and that is the only warning they all get before she is charging forward with the help of her powers - in the exact same way Connor was made to lunge at the broadcast android, Connor realises - and Alec is knocked backwards from the force.

What the fuck are you waiting for? echoes Ryder’s voice in his mind. Convert them! Now!

Connor wastes no time grabbing the android’s arm again and transferring the data package. Ignoring the fact that Hank is probably on the last cusps of his life because Hank did tell him to do what he has to do and not worry about him and Connor won’t rid him of having his last wishes respected, he dashes to another group of androids and converts the one closest to him, then he approaches another group, then another, then another, until the entire storage room’s androids are deviated or are doing to be deviated and he moves on to another room so that the conversion can be quicker. The door to the next storage room is just a few steps ahead, and if he can cross it, it’ll mean that he is leaving Hank, but the revolution, the army he can bring to help Markus - he must have it. It’s the hope of their entire people.

The door slams shut with a rumble as if someone has cut off the strings holding it up and letting it freefall until it reaches the ground even though it shouldn’t - the hydraulics are supposed to ensure that - and he reflexively bolts backwards with a yelp just in time for the tip of his toe to be removed from the thick, heavy door that will no doubt crush him into splinters. He whips around, his world turning grey as he scans everything he can see, but all he can focus on is the doors to the other storage rooms slamming down one after another, the ground trembling from the impact of the heavy doors hitting the floor, and through the numerous ‘wake up’s the androids are saying as they pass on the code from one to another, the next thing Connor sees is Alec and Ryder, except he can’t actually see them, but the two streaks of blue cutting across the ceiling like two bright ribbons circling each other can be no one else. They crash onto the ground somewhere taking down quite a number of newly-deviated androids with them, and that is when Connor realises…

He realises that no matter which side the two Ryders are helping, both of them care very little about people who are not themselves.

Turning back towards the door in front of him, he recalls every single time his powers activated with or without his permission and both subconscious and on purpose. He has to do this. Hank is gone now, and the revolution is the only thing he has left.

His nerves tingle. Warnings of abnormal thirium flow flood his HUD.

The air crackles.

oOoOo

The camp is plunged into chaos.

Several things happened simultaneously as Louis decloaked: first of course was him rushing towards the command centre, then all the soldiers within their proximity - including the ones high on the watchtowers - buckle their legs with pained cries being ripped from their throats, and all the androids around them are seizing the chance to free themselves, breaking their formation and ripping the soldiers’ rifles away from their hands, but always, before they can retaliate against the humans, they are suspended in stasis fields held up by… someone. There are probably a few of Chloe’s androids in the mix orchestrating everything, but Louis’ task isn’t to think and crowd control, and all he can think of as his armour melts and shifts into something more durable-looking and a hell lot more futuristic is that he doesn’t even need his rifle; slinging it across his shoulder so that it will be out of his way, his body lights up with his biotics as he draws power from his cybernetics and nerves, the two too intertwined to be called separately, his vision is swathed in blue, and he leaps up, his barrier (he doesn’t even know if it’s generated by his armour or himself anymore; all he knows that it’s protecting him) deflecting or simply absorbing the bullets being fired at him as he feels lighter than ever, but it is nothing compared to the raw power coursing through his body and expanding in a complex, destructive net around him, one that is capable of lifting the soldiers off the ground and making them easy, floating targets. He lands on the other side of the barricade with an ease that would’ve surprised him if his attention hadn’t been on releasing all the pent-up energy in his body, and that is exactly what he does in the form of unleashing a shockwave that tears through the soldiers and making his entire upper right body tremble and spasm, spheres of blue exploding around him and knocking every down in their paths until the soldiers are limp figures on the snowy ground. He doesn’t even have the time to think of whether his stunts are being captured on camera.

All he can focus on is how liberating it feels.

His vision still tinged with blue, his attention lands on the other row of soldiers behind the next row of barriers and concrete blocks and he finds himself facing the barrel of a tank, therefore he does the only logical thing to protect himself.

He extends his palm towards the tank, taps into his power, and yanks the turret out from the main body of the tank. It flies off, barely misses the soldiers standing in position next to the tank, and he lets tendrils of blue shimmer and wrap around his limbs, giving them a benefit of doubt and waiting for them to make their move before deciding on his next course of action.

Thankfully they choose to surrender, getting out of cover and dropping their weapons and putting their hands behind their heads. Lighting up and jumping across the gap by drawing an arc metres above the ground, he enjoys the way the soldiers flinch and cower as they think that he is going to blast them with his powers again, but no, he isn’t a war criminal, he doesn’t kill unarmed soldiers who have clearly surrendered, and he strolls forward knowing that this is the last stretch of where he expects resistance. Then it’s just a straight path to the command centre.

Until, of course, someone has to shoot him on his back.

The barrier absorbs the bullet easily, of course, and it also allows him to be dramatic for once. Slowly turning back towards the row of surrendered soldiers, all of them act like none of them have moved at all, but that’s what his proximity sensors and the built-in tech in his armour is for, and it points out exactly who fired the shot to him and making them the perfect target for a controlled biotic blast in front of their face, knocking them out cold but not killing them outright. They’ll live. Probably. He’ll be sorry and disappointed in himself if they don’t, because that means one more life lost and that his control over his powers isn’t quite up to the standard he set for himself. Bad luck for both of them.

He catches sight of Chloe a few metres to his right, and together, they march towards the command centre with their powers still boiling in their blood.

oOoOo

The door refuses to budge despite the continuous blasts from Connor. Compared to what the Ryders are doing above and what he remembered from the overwhelming amount of data Alec put his systems through trying to erase his powers away, the blue spheres that he manages to create and lob towards the towering door are so small to the point of being pathetic. He is burning through the thirium in his body and his systems are slowing down from it, but he doesn’t seem to find another way in; interfacing with the Tower’s system nearly resulted in him being sucked into it again, so that route is blocked. An android approaches him trying to help, but he knows they need to save their strength in case the city becomes a warzone, so he yells, ‘Take the lifts and go up! Don’t come back!’

He quickly transfers Markus’ last known coordinates to everyone within range before he feels his blood burn from activating his powers yet again, this time throwing his entire body against the impenetrable door that he knows is designed to withstand most if not the strongest impact humanity is capable of, and all it does is causing his chassis to crack underneath the poorly-absorbed impact because he doesn’t know how to protect himself using his powers properly. None of his veins is broken, so at least he won’t lose even more thirium unnecessarily.

But when he realises that one of the ribbons of light is heading straight towards him, he does curl into himself on the cold, hard floor of the warehouse, feeling more defeated than ever.

The second beam of light catches up and deflects the first beam to somewhere on the ceiling with an explosion of blue so massive that it knocks down every single android within a five-metre radius, and Connor somehow knows before the light dissipates that it is going to be Ryder who is swathed within it. She crosses the distance between them in two brisk strides, pulling him up to his feet and then back further away from the door in one smooth movement that doesn’t even give Connor the time to balance himself, and with one firm ‘stay back’ that gives him no room to argue, bright cerulean tendrils wrap around her body once more: the only warning the world gets before Ryder throws her hands forward and extends her powers to cover the entire door. A hard yank, an arm pointing towards the direction where Alec is gunning after a group of androids preparing to enter the lift and creating a protective bubble around them, and the door disintegrates into fundamental particles with a blast of static and force that rips through Connor’s being. He would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t been a painful squeeze on his arm. ‘Go,’ Ryder’s voice is laced with static from diverting her power from unnecessary systems like maintaining a human voice to give energy to her powers. ‘Convert the others. Tell them to use the lifts in their respective storage rooms. I’ll try to break down the doors and shield your people whenever I can, but don’t be surprised if a few hundred people don’t get out of this alive.’

And then she is gone, charging towards where her father is once more to slow him down. If she can break down the door (even though it seemed to take quite a lot of effort), why hasn’t she torn him apart yet? He doesn’t have much time to think, though, as a particularly large blast knocks him forward, and he picks himself up and runs, employing the same strategy he used in the first warehouse so that by the time the last androids in the room are deviated, the first batch is already on their way to the surface and helping with the revolution by the time he finishes deviating the last of the androids. He tries to tap into his powers again just to receive a notification that he will die from insufficient thirium if he activates them as little as one more time. Something tells him that it’s only his lack of practise that is causing it, but there isn’t time for him to explore right now; he has a revolution to support. Since the door linking this storage room to the one next to it is still slammed shut, it means that he has to run all the way back to the room he first arrived at, straight back to where, apparently, the Ryders are still fighting and is taking the opportunity to tear the entire storage room apart because nearly all the androids are already evacuated. There are tendrils of blue forming protective corridors around the surviving group and directing them straight to the lift, the shaft also protected by a wall of flickering blue, and Connor wonders how much it takes to maintain the… constructs? structures? He doesn’t have a name for them. All he knows is that in the span of just a few minutes, the doors leading to the other storage rooms have all been taken down to allow access, and as he tears through the static-singed floor of the first storage room, he keeps his focus on the Ryders and dodges the spheres of energy that they are lobbing at each other, learning his lesson after he got hit the first time and it felt like his biocomponents are liquifying within his chassis.

But it’s hard to do when the spheres have their built-in homing system and know to arc towards him.

A giant bubble is launched towards Connor, its size making dodging an impossible task, but still he runs as fast as he can, his footsteps being drowned out by the loud, deadly explosions that are firing off almost every second now, but while he expects the churn of his biocomponents being torn apart at the molecular level, the bubble only engulfs him like a protective dome, and somehow he knows that Ryder is doing the same to him as to the other androids she is helping, keeping him alive just enough to reach their objectives before… before something. Connor isn’t sure how tonight is going to end, but the newly-deviated androids have Markus’ coordinates in their systems; they’ll know their way even though he doesn’t survive.

A streak of blue flies above Connor’s head and crashes directly into the centre of a group of androids on standby, and even though he is protected from nearly all harm thanks to the bubble that somehow manages to follow him around and keep him in the centre, he still instinctively jumps towards the other side to get as much distance away from the blast as he can and shields his eyes with his arm. He takes the chance to grab a nearby android’s arm and deviate them and regrets looking towards the direction of the blast.

Alec Ryder stands amidst a crater of broken androids, his clothes and chassis covered in thirium glowing in resonance with his powers. Connor picks up the courage to run a quick scan to determine the extent of damage even as he feels immobilised by the man’s inhuman eyes.

That is more than a hundred androids gone all thanks for a man who isn’t even human as most people thought.

‘You’re an android too,’ Connor whispers because his voice box suddenly isn’t working. ‘How… how does that…?’

Logically, he knows that the bubble will protect him, but he still raises his arms in front of him subconsciously when the man wraps himself in blue and charges towards him in a large sphere knitted from the same blue tendrils. He feels the bubble tremble under the impact and the assault of… whatever the tendrils exactly do, but it doesn’t last long as Ryder charges in once more and dislodges her father from Connor’s bubble, freeing him and giving him a chance to move on to the next full group of androids. He doesn’t even need to deviate the batch Alec crashed into as the impact and destruction alone are shocking enough to deviate them on the spot.

He just hopes that they last long enough to get to one of the lifts and get to the surface.

A crash shakes the entire warehouse and causes Connor to lose his balance halfway through a run. He falls forward, the bubble fizzles for one terrifying moment before strengthening again, and he feels the crack in his chassis widen even more. None of his veins is broken or torn which is a small mercy on its own, but as he pre-constructs the quickest route to deviate all the androids in the room, Ryder is nudging a connection open, and he partitions a part of his focus to accept the call while he runs towards the next group of androids.

He’s targeting the androids now, Ryder’s voice echoes in his head. I’ll try to protect everyone, but I can’t do that while I’m tracking you. Either I drop the barrier around you or we sacrifice a few androids. It’s your choice.

Connor shoves the conversation away from his mind for the few seconds it takes to deviate the android he chose for this group. Teach me how to protect myself. I don’t have enough thirium in me.

You will.

A stream of data suddenly passes into his mind without a direct interface - something that should not be possible with common android models, but then again both he and Ryder are the furthest thing from common - and suddenly his nerves tingle with a sensation both foreign and familiar. It’s Ryder’s experience being passed into his processors, he realises, but still when he imagines a protective dome around him, his thoughts are hesitant, and the protection suffers from his own lack of confidence and flickers as Ryder’s bubble fizzles and dissipates. With it gone, a giant field of blue appears above his head 3 metres off the ground, giving enough space for the androids to manoeuvre themselves as they rush towards the many lifts while leaving plenty of room for the Ryders to… do whatever they are doing. The barrier shimmers and flows like water, giving him an illusion that he is underwater, but no, he’s still standing on solid ground with his thirium level dropping bit by bit from both normal usage and the field above him as it draws power from everything around it to maintain its strength which, in this case, is Connor and all the androids in this storage room. He deviates all the androids and makes sure that at least a few batches are on their way to the surface before swivelling around to dash back to the original storage room, except that the supportive archway crashes and rumbles and collapses in front of his eyes, forcing him to go towards the other way, and he looks up just in time to see Ryder crashing onto the protective barrier she is still holding up, the impact making the sea of blue tendrils ripple and hum with the impact before she seems to have found her footing on the barrier. He feels more than sees her launch a shockwave towards the only other door out of this storage room and blast it into smithereens and Connor has to climb a small hill to access the next room, but for now, as the force field expands itself to cover the new storage room as well, he finally feels like he is getting the hang of it, that there is a chance that they can get most of the androids out of here alive to help with the revolution.

If only he can forget the image of Hank lying on the floor dying from a gunshot wound in his stomach.

oOoOo

‘I’ll get the commander,’ Chloe suddenly says as they are no more than a few metres away from the command centre, ‘you get the soldiers protecting them. You understand?’

‘Making me do the heavy lifting again?’ Louis can’t help but jab despite realising the symbolism behind it: an android making the final move that announces their victory is much more impactful than when a human does it especially considering that they are, if stripped to the basics, in the middle of an android revolution. If it means bringing them peace and avoiding a civil war between humans and androids, he will gladly forget that the tech he is wearing is not public at all, that Chloe brought her own help in the form of what seems like an organised platoon of deviants out of nowhere, that he didn’t just rip the turret off a fucking tank just now with some… weird blue magic that is called biotics.

‘Figure you can use some more practice.’

His stomach chooses this moment to growl. Right. The crash after using his powers excessively always sucks, and one of the symptoms is a sudden, acute hunger that threatens to knock him off his feet. At least he doesn’t break every single bone in his limbs and has to lie in the snow for three days waiting for his cybernetics to slowly knit himself back together again. ‘Maybe not,’ he switches his rifle from his shoulder into his hands just in case things are about to get spicy and his powers fail him. ‘Drained all my stores back there.’

Chloe’s huff is audible through the comms. ‘Fine,’ she doesn’t sound too pleased. ‘Do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.’

‘Won’t even dream to take the lead. I have no idea what’s happening right here.’

They plaster themselves onto the walls next to the door leading to the command centre. ‘We’re taking this camp and freeing the androids. What is so difficult to understand?’

‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about.’

‘Just blast the door open and be done with it.’

He does as she says and lobs a sphere of energy towards the door to push it back without exposing himself to immediate gunfire. Shielding himself with a barrier in front of him, he turns and feels the bullets being deflected or absorbed and sees through the shield of blue the soldiers either dropping on the floor from the very bullets they fired or scrambling for cover thinking that simple furniture can protect them.

He knits his biotics into a giant stasis field and suspends everyone in it while leaving a corridor for himself and Chloe to pass through.

‘They don’t have cameras on, right?’ he finally finds the time to ask. ‘Or else they’ll probably have a lot of questions for me.’

‘EMP, remember?’ Chloe sounds awfully cheerful. ‘Nothing’s getting in, and nothing’s getting out.’

‘And the soldiers’ testimonies?’

Through the visor - yes, her new helmet has a visor now, finally - Chloe gives him what he thinks is a blank stare. ‘They won’t.’

‘You sound certain.’

Chloe giggles, but Louis detects no mirth in her voice. ‘I promise.’

She breaks the door open herself on a count of three, and this time, Louis is prepared to suspend the occupants in stasis fields immediately after entering the room, their weapons easily taken away now that they are all immobilised and are suspended at eye level while Chloe works on the recycling machine’s controls.

It is so anticlimactic that it gives him whiplash.

With her helmet still on, the android raises the microphone to where her mouth should be. ‘Testing,’ she has changed her voice into something much more neutral and less recognisable, ‘please respond if you can hear me.’ A pause, presumably when she is waiting for a telepathic response from an android. ‘This camp is no longer under the army’s control. By Markus’ orders, you can either join the protest at Hart Plaza - human clothing optional - or stay here where you will be safe for the rest of the night or tend to the wounded. You’re free now. It’s your choice to make. Over.’

She hangs up the microphone and turns to Louis. ‘How long will the stasis field hold?’

‘Hell if I know,’ Louis shrugs and feels the plates of his armour shift and tug against the fabric of what seems like an undershirt; he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was changed and what was not when his armour morphed and he was rushing the soldiers. ‘I can keep watch if you want me to.’

‘No,’ Chloe shakes her head. ‘You’ll be more useful out there. I’ll watch the stasis fields here. I have transferred Markus’ last known coordinates to everyone, but it’s better if there’s someone to lead them.’

‘Who? Me?’

‘Is there anyone else?’

‘A human leading an army of androids -’

‘You aren’t even a human, Louis White Allen. Stop fooling yourself.’

‘Why don’t you -’

‘Stop arguing and lead them to Markus, okay? If you think they’re going to exclude you for being more human physically than pure androids, you’re wrong. Once you get in, you never get out. That’s the way things are.’

Louis swings his rifle over his shoulder to prepare to walk all the way to Hart Plaza which, according to the map on his HUD, is an hour’s walk away. ‘Why do I have a feeling that you aren’t talking about the revolution anymore?’

‘I never said I was.’

He exits the command centre into the snow. As if sensing that the fight is over, his armour sends a blinking notification to alert him of its upcoming deactivation before melting apart like the skin on an android to reveal the clothes he changed into before they departed the church, but instead of returning to its original form of a circular disc on his spine, he watches the particles concentrate on his left wrist to form an unsuspecting analogue watch that he can easily hide under his sleeve. It’s a good-looking watch and probably contains a tracker as well so he takes it off and hands it to an armoured android (he knows they’re an android because they still have their LED on their temple). ‘Thanks for the help,’ the android’s face remains blank as Louis feels more and more embarrassed rambling. ‘I don’t think I’ll need this anymore.’

He bolts before the android can give any sort of reply, snow crunching underneath his boots as he goes straight to the entrance of the camp. Some androids are already dressed up - some in clearly mismatched clothing - and are standing in line, this time voluntarily instead of being forced to march to their deaths, some are still rummaging the bins through which all androids went through for some clothes, and some are just standing there tall and proud without their skin, comfortable with the physical proof that they are not human.

An android dressed in a WR600’s uniform approaches him. ‘We were told to follow your lead,’ he says. ‘We will win this, won’t we?’

Louis recalls the map, recalls Markus’ protests, recalls the other camps currently on their way to freedom or are already freed, recalls Connor infiltrating CyberLife Tower alone with a determination that will see no other day.

‘We will if we stand as one. Now let’s rendezvous with Markus.’

oOoOo

It proves how well she knows her father when she isn’t surprised that after forcing this on her and Ellen, he did it to himself as well. From the first time he lit up in blue in front of her, Fadia knew.

And she is prepared this time. No more being caught off-guard. No more being kidnapped and put into an indestructible body without her consent. No more using an entire species as a tool to force a woman who should have died to live.

She has an army.

The kinetic barrier she generates isn’t exactly the most solid thing as her attention is spread so thin from having to cover so much ground, but that’s another use of her biotics: to right herself, to pick herself up quicker than any other human or android can. The barrier ripples and glows with each step she takes as she pretends that she is walking on solid ground and lets her imagination fuel her biotics, and before Alec can recover from being blasted to the other side of the room yet again, she raises her hand and rips through every single door that the bastard cut loose in a pathetic attempt to stop her and Connor.

Evidently, he has forgotten that she is designed to be easily upgraded by replacing her biocomponents instead of being stuck in the same way like the other androids or himself. And yes, now that she knows he is an android, it doesn’t take long for her to dig into CyberLife and the Church’s databases to find the bits and pieces and decipher them. Alec Ryder, disgraced military special forces officer; Alec Ryder, father of the mother of androids; Alec Ryder, RK600, better, faster, and stronger than all his predecessors.

Unchanged since the beginning, surpassed long ago by an upgraded version of one of his predecessors.

She casually knits an annihilation field around herself just in case Alec charges her again, and indeed he does, her limbs locking up from the sync-lock that will tell her father where exactly he should punch a hole in spacetime to transform himself into the deadliest cannonball with his own body, but that’s what the field is for: to catch him unaware, to pull him out from the massless corridor before he is ready, and as her vision turns grey and her world slows down, she raises both of her arms and strengthens the field like a parent welcoming her child home.

How ironic.

With all the doors now no more than atoms and molecules - whichever is safer for organic humans - it is easy to expand the kinetic barrier underneath her feet as she watches Alec struggle futilely in the web of biotic tendrils she trapped him in. His skin flickers, his biotics fizzle and glow and burn as he attempts to get away from the field, but while he has been tending mostly to earthly affairs for the last ten years and left the Church’s matter to his trusted seconds, she has been involved in the fight since the day he kicked him out and she established her own order with her own allies. Some of them have deviated from their original goal completely and are one step from disappearing from human space forever, others are distracted by new discoveries which doesn’t bother her as much, but most stayed loyal, and most of all, she has the practice, she has the hardware to maximise her efficiency and control over her biotics.

She only lets him last this long because she wants it to hurt.

How long until you can deviate all the androids in here? she asks Connor just in case. The RK800 is getting better and better at this, and by the end of tonight… there’ll be hundreds of thousands if not millions of deviants all around the country. Enough to turn the tide of the revolution.

Enough to change the fate of humanity.

The momentary distraction allows Alec to break away from the annihilation field that is supposed to be destroying his biocomponents on the molecular level, but just like herself, his self-repair protocol will continue to fix and regenerate his body until his processors are utterly, completely ripped apart.

She will do that later, but for now, as he grabs her and the two of them resort to biotic-swathed punches in the air supported by nothing but manipulated gravity thanks for their powers, she relishes in seeing a man whom she used to know as calm and collected at best and outright heartless at worst panic and scramble for purchase as he realises that this is a fight he cannot win, that at long last, there is a problem he cannot solve.

That is, of course, if this is a problem in the first place, and one thing about Alec Ryder is that sometimes he treats the inevitable as something to be solved instead of something that needs to be accepted. This mentality got them into this position in the first place. If he finally understands now why it is a bad idea to have in daily life… she has bad news for him.

Two more rooms, Connor replies at long last. My chassis is cracked and I’m not healing. I… I don’t know if I’ll have enough thirium to fix myself.

Well, the deviants flooding to the surface have Markus’ coordinates anyway. The movement will live. Focus on deviating the androids.

Got it.

She throws Alec through a wall into a now-empty storage room and then launches a shockwave at the intact archway that will give Alec an escape so that it collapses and traps him in. The walls might be built to withstand level 9 earthquakes measured in the Richter scale, but she doubts there is anything in the universe that can trap a powerful biotic on a rampage forever, and the mere thought of the archway coming down in a pile of rubble is enough to do the job. She would be able to escape if the situation forced her to, but Alec will be trapped here forever unless someone digs him up which will probably never happen. The man always thinks that everyone and everything in the world has to go his way.

He will be surprised by how quickly they will turn their backs against him once the opportunity arises.

She descends to the ground slowly with her world swathed in blue and watches as Alec struggles to stand up. Good. He is admitting his defeat.

‘Don’t think that I didn’t see your little stunt,’ he tries to emphasise his words with a Warp that she easily neutralises. ‘You’re no better than us.’

‘At least I’m doing it for the greater good,’ she biotically lifts him and slams him onto the ground once more. ‘You… on the other hand,’ a shockwave that enters his body and transforms into a Warp to start ripping his biocomponents apart once more before they are healed, ‘is just a lucky selfish bastard.’

‘I made our nation stronger than ever!’

‘For a few decades at most,’ she greatly enjoys the way he is suspended in stasis. He starts coughing up thirium as well which means that some of the damage isn’t as molecular as she wants it to be, but whatever. It might hurt even more which will only make things better. ‘Soon humanity won’t even remember your name.’

She receives a notification that all the surviving androids in CyberLife Tower have been successfully deviated, and of course she accidentally chose the room in which Connor first came in which also means that Hank Anderson’s body is still lying - there. He probably thinks that his human is dead, and she won’t correct him until she is certain that her plan worked. As she continues ripping her father apart from within, she sees the other android emerge from a small gap underneath a pile of rubble covered in dust and grime and thirium, and she knows that yet again, she forgot to keep track of the collateral damage.

Not that it will matter when the androids are celebrating their newfound freedom and the White House are held at both literal and metaphorical gunpoint.

She makes sure that Connor is watching before she jumps and blasts Alec into the ground before kneeling on top of his torso and hitting his head with one after another biotic punch designed to rip it into subatomic particles while also giving her the satisfaction of physically hurting something without doing the same to herself. Such is the wonder of biotics, and so is the power the courses through her when bit by bit, her father’s head chipped away to reveal his eyes, his processors, his data storage, his audio processors; everything that makes him him, all of them disintegrating under the most powerful force humanity has come across. Thirium gushes out from the gaps and cracks created by the assault, forming a spreading poll beneath his head as his system tries to repair the damage with his blood, but the speed of recovery is no match for angry biotics, and soon even that stops as well as the final piece of his processor is reduced to subatomic particles. One final Warp, one last explosion to just to be thorough, and Alec Ryder is no more. She stands up, scans the body to make sure that her father is truly dead, maybe even removing his thirium pump and crushing it biotically in her palms to feel the biocomponent crumble and crack and dematerialise under her own power.

When she looks up at long last, Connor is staring at her with horror in his eyes.

‘It’s necessary,’ Fadia explains. ‘His body is designed to regenerate as long as his processors are intact. This is the only way to make sure that he stays dead and won’t be a threat to us anymore.’ He stays frozen in place despite that, so she adds, ‘Go on. Markus will be waiting for you. I’ll take care of Hank’s body.’

The other android’s face crumbles at the mention of the human, and he whips around with a suspicious arm in front of his face before crossing the distance between him and the body and kneeling down next to it. Pinging the cleanup crew through her internal network, she takes sight of how he deactivates the skin on his hand, how he manoeuvres Hank’s arm until their palms touch with a telltale glow surrounding the android’s hand.

How he leans down and kisses him on his lips once just to stand up and leave the warehouse with the lift farthest from where she is.

That is when she recalls that Anderson - this one, not the one she knew and worked for her - told Connor that Alec used another Connor model to lure him to CyberLife Tower. Knowing Alec’s distrust towards the RK800 series, the body of that Connor unit is probably lying somewhere in this tower waiting for someone to discover it, and that someone will not be CyberLife staff.

Alec’s body is still dripping thirium because unlike human blood, gravity still has an effect on the chemical after the android dies, so she leaves it to the cleanup crew and sends out a tower-wide ping to locate the body of the other RK800 before stepping into a lift and ascends the floors, the gaps between the pieces of her chassis still glowing blue with pent-up power. The plan in her head grows and transforms into something more, and as she lets tendrils of blue dance on her fingertips, she realises that they are stained with fresh thirium.

She forcefully evaporates them with a controlled burst of biotics and stares straight ahead. She’ll have to come down later, but for now… she has a tower to lock down, people to threaten, another RK unit to retrieve and improve -

And a new army to lead.

o0o0o

Before

Chloe watched Louis exit the camp without looking back, bringing thousands of androids of all different models with him to aid the revolution effort. Breathing out an unnecessary sigh, she blasted the camp commander and their guards’ heads with a small biotic explosion to knock them out before going out and slamming the door shut behind her. She was immediately approached by her second-in-command, and the watch she was holding in her hand was enough to tell her that she might have underestimated the cyborg. ‘He left this,’ her second said as she held out a familiar watch. Standard-issue, because this was the best design they had. Clean, because it helped people clear their minds. Analogue, because it reminded people of their origins and what they were protecting and their ultimate goal: creating order out of a system designed to push towards the opposite direction. With sophisticated enough engineering, even the most fatal flaw of an analogue watch could be eliminated.

Climbing onto one of the watchtowers which had been cleared of its human occupant, she gazed down at the camp and the androids who chose to stay and clean up or to help take care of the wounded, sending a picture to both Elijah and Reyes as evidence to her success in taking over the camp and liberating the androids; in return, Reyes somehow managed to take a selfie of himself and his sniper rifle on top of a watchtower of a nearly-empty camp, and Elijah replied with a short ‘still infiltrating. will update you soon’.

The result did not surprise her.

She let herself marvel at the Administrator’s plan. If Chloe had been in charge, she would have ordered her platoon to kill the humans regardless of whether they were armed or not; after all, they had been the ones to send unarmed, innocent androids into camps to be destroyed, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t see the benefits of leaving the human soldiers alive. They would be able to maintain a façade of peace, they would gain the support of the humans and the androids who had been treated well by their masters so far - she knew there had to be some - and most of all, they would be able to pressure the government to do as they say. The cameras might have been taken out by the EMP and then hacking from numerous trained androids, the attack was quick and deadly thanks for a certain cyborg finally unleashing his powers at the expense of himself, but the soldiers had eyes, they would talk, they would describe what happened tonight to their superiors or even their family.

They would plunge the world in awe and horror and no one would know why or how or where their powers came to be.

She received yet another ping. This one was from Connor who apparently had successfully deviated most of the androids in CyberLife Tower’s storage, and his wording of ‘most’ and the lack of visual proof caught her attention. She could imagine it: one thing that CyberLife and the Administrator agreed on was their lack of care towards collateral damage; perhaps the company anticipated his arrival and started destroying some of the androids before they were stopped, perhaps they blocked off part of the warehouse and locked Connor out of the system, perhaps something else. No matter what caused him to use ‘most’ but not ‘all’, there would be a lot more deviants in Detroit than ever.

And now it was up to Grissom to deal with the president. She was never close with the human, their goals and personalities too far apart for them to cross paths that much, but she supposed that the least she could do right now was looking past his disgustingly open human emotions when it came to his husband and interest and focus on the competent side of his that got him a seat on the council. The same competence and experience would allow them to force Warren’s hand without revealing themselves - at least according to the Administrator, who, from Chloe’s one decade worth of experience, was usually right concerning matters like this. Sure, the Church might have control over the North American scrubber, but the president didn’t need to know that; all she would know is that if she didn’t give androids the freedom and rights they deserved right now, she would essentially doom humanity to a painful, drawn-out death that would happen in her lifetime.

Not something an already-unpopular president should do.

She didn’t doubt that the Church would reap some of the benefits from the revolution; in fact, it was the first thing the entire council - yes, even Elijah - anticipated, and they had prepared their next move accordingly. There would be so many deviants lost, so many naïve, innocent souls ready to be recruited. It would be a waste to not utilise such a readily available resource to advance humanity towards the correct direction.

She drew up the video they had recorded specifically for this occasion and broadcasted it to the entire camp.

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #dbh hank anderson #dbh connor #dbh chloe #dbh elijah kamski #dbh captain allen #female ryder #alec ryder #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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annoyed-galaxy · 4 years

Text

Fable 2 Aftermath

Aka I couldn’t find a title for this so this is just what I’m gonna call it.

This takes place one year after Sparrow has defeated Lucien. It’s a small scene and is what will start my Sparrow and Reaver’s little romance that will go on to Fable 3. I will add as a warning: there is an attempted suicide in this. Just in case that would trigger someone, I’m adding that here.

I hope you will enjoy this little story and let me know what you think. I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a second part to this or just more in general as I figure out what the hell my characters are going to be.

Enjoy!

She had done it. She accomplished her mission. She exacted her revenge against Lucien.

And yet...she still felt empty inside.

It had been a year since she killed Lucien and made her wish in the Spire. Not much happened in that year. She got a statue erected in her honor and she bought a lot of houses and stores and made the rent and prices affordable for the less fortunate people. People saw her as a selfless saint. She had the chance to bring back her sister and even her beloved dog, but instead chose to bring back thousands upon thousands of random strangers. The people of Albion praised her. When she walked the streets, people would cheer and weep at her mere presence.

But she still felt empty. She was alone. All three of the Heroes had left and Theresa had basically kicked her out of the seer’s life completely. She had begun regretting her choice. But anytime those thoughts came up, she would get herself so drunk she could barely stand or find some random person to warm her bed and take her mind off things. She was almost reverting back to her young adult self, the selfish woman who came from Bower Lake with only one goal in mind.

Now she was just a hollow shell of her former self. She had no regard for her life anymore. After all, she had sacrificed her youth and beauty for one bastard.

For some reason that thought had kept coming to her over and over. Why did she do that? Why did she sacrifice her own youth and beauty instead of forcing it onto that random girl in the Shadow Court? Why did she choose to bring back strangers rather than her beloved sister and puppy?

Thinking about these things didn’t help.

Sparrow looked at the bottle in her hand. It was already empty. She sighed and threw it to her left, then proceeded to take another bottle from the crate on her right. There were four bottles left, with three missing. She had bought the crate from one of the vendors in Bloodstone and had taken the thing down to the beach where she sat in the sand and stared out into the ocean, drinking her life away. She could see the Spire from where she sat. It didn’t help with the memories floating in her head. Anytime a memory tried to come up, she would take a swig from the bottle and wash it away.

Was this healthy?

Of course not.

Did Sparrow care?

Hell no.

It had been a year and Sparrow was trying to find some purpose in her life. She did what she could to help out around communities such as Old Town and Oakfield, but they never satisfied her. Nowadays, nothing really did. She missed her dog. She missed playing fetch with him and cuddling with him. She almost missed him more than she missed her sister. It was a pain to admit that, but Sparrow was young when she lost her sister. The only reason her vengeance grew so much was because of Theresa’s careful taming.

And when the end came, Theresa tossed Sparrow to the side, not a care in the world. Not a single goodbye or anything. At least the Heroes had said goodbye, which was a surprise because Sparrow had not expected Reaver to say goodbye at all. But if that smarmy bastard had some decency to say a farewell, how come Theresa, Sparrow’s mentor, didn’t?

The thought made Sparrow clench her teeth and want to throw something at the Spire. The closest thing to her was a seashell. Poor thing soared through the sky as Sparrow threw it as hard as she could. It traveled pretty far before Sparrow saw its splash. Sparrow clicked her tongue and took another drink.

The sun was already going down, but Sparrow had no care. The moon could have made its lap across the sky and the sun come back and she wouldn’t have noticed. She barely noticed time anymore. It was irrelevant to her. She was going to die young, she knew it. What purpose in life did she have now?

A dangerous glance dragged her attention to the new pistol she carried on her side. She had put her crossbow up in a place of honor and picked up a pistol. The age of crossbows was coming to an end and it was becoming more troublesome to carry around. The pistol was light and did more damage than her beloved crossbow. But it was also easier to use for darker needs.

Sparrow took the pistol out of its holster and examined it. It was a beautiful thing. Black and gold like her crossbow; she would have had it no other way. It was one of those fancy clockwork pistols that only the Spire guards had used. Five bullets in one little clip. However, her pistol only had one bullet right now.

Sparrow didn’t know when it struck her, but she no longer felt a reason to live. She did meaningless tasks everyday. Saving a bunch of slaves, killing hobbes and balverines, chopping wood, making swords; none of it meant anything to her anymore. She tried contributing to communities by teaching young boys and girls how to fight and protect themselves for when there were no more Heroes in Albion. Some people giggled at the notion, thinking it was unnecessary. But it entertained the children so they let the great Hero do it.

Yet even that never helped close the gaping hole in Sparrow’s chest. In fact, it made her even more depressed; seeing all the children laughing and happy. She even saw siblings playing like she and Rose used to. Only these children never had to suffer through the things Sparrow and Rose did. Their families didn’t know poverty or struggle, and that was thanks to Sparrow. They never knew heartbreak or hardship. They all thought of Sparrow as the greatest Hero of all time, but she never saw that herself. After the ten years she spent in that awful Spire, wasting away and hurting other people, she would have given everything just to make others not suffer.

She didn’t realize how much she would make herself suffer through.

Another swig from the bottle brought Sparrow to the present, to the pistol resting in her hand. Maybe Albion would mourn her death, but then again, they were okay. People were happy. People did not suffer. And they wouldn’t for a long time. No matter Theresa’s intentions, surely they couldn’t be evil right? Would she really kill everyone in Albion with the Spire?

Sparrow honestly didn’t care now. She wouldn’t live to see what would happen.

The Hero took a deep breath and brought the pistol to the side of her head. There was no point in living now. She could join her sister and dog in the afterlife. She would see her lost parents again. Maybe she could be happy. It had been so long since she smiled. So long since she felt something good.

Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She just wanted to be happy. She could make other people happy, but why couldn’t she make herself happy? She wanted to give herself to other people just so they could be happy but why did she torment herself? Why did she do these things to herself? She had no value left in her. She had already given her flesh away multiple times. Gave her blade even more times. She would jump in front of incoming fire just to save some merchants without a single regard to her life. She had no longer valued her life.

She honestly couldn’t remember when that started. If that was before or after the Spire. Maybe it was right after she left Bower Lake. Sure she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to save someone, but she didn’t love her body enough to cherish it. Gave it away freely to distract herself from bad memories. She thought after her time in the Spire, she would have changed. But...she didn’t. Not really. The only thing that changed was that she cared more about people. She had never loved herself. She had never placed any value into her life. She always thought that Rose should have been the one to survive. To become a great Hero. Not Sparrow.

She had no meaning anymore. She was always Theresa’s pawn. She was a means to an end. Killing Lucien did nothing to quell that vengeance. Hell, after a while, she wondered if that was ever what she truly wanted. At first, maybe, but in the end, she just needed to kill a madman. Everything she had ever done led up to this moment.

Sitting on a beach, drunk on cheap alcohol, with a gun to her head. Sparrow looked out into the horizon, watching as the sun cast a fiery blaze across the ocean and behind the Spire. It was a beautiful image. And it would be the last one she ever saw.

“Are you really going to do that?”

A voice pulled Sparrow out of her thoughts, her eyes away from the horizon.

A lone figure was swaggering into her view. She couldn’t quite tell who it was, the setting sun was already casting shadows on the beach. “Who are you?” she called out, her voice raspy and hoarse from lack of use and excessive amount of alcohol consumption.

Her hand lowered the gun from her head and rested in her lap. Whoever it was, they stopped her from ending it all.

Sparrow finally could make out the swaggering walk, the lush hair that stuck out well too-groomed for one’s own sake, that sassy hand on hip, the cape flowing behind. Now she wished she had pulled the trigger as Reaver fully came into view. He stood a couple feet away and had that little shit-eating smirk on his face that made Sparrow want to grab his hair and slam him into the ground.

She snorted and took a swig from her bottle, no longer interested in the Hero of Skill’s sudden arrival.

“Well that’s just rude!” Reaver feigned offense, putting a hand to his forehead. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”

“We’re not friends,” Sparrow let out, glaring at the horizon. She refused to meet the pirate’s eyes. “You would sooner stab me in the back than call me a friend.”

Reaver clicked his tongue. “Well that’s a rude assumption.”

Sparrow glared at him, really considering summoning a blade and piercing it through his pretty little immortal throat. Reaver chuckled at the look Sparrow gave him, before moving closer and sitting by her side. “Mind if I take one?” Reaver asked already reaching for one of the bottles in her crate.

“Do you like that hand?” she asked without looking at him. A spectral blade formed above his hand and hovered dangerously close.

Reaver couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled his hand away. “My, aren’t you a grump. I mean I imagined something was wrong when you were about to put a bullet through your head. Tell me, were you really going to go through with that?”

Sparrow didn’t know why this little bastard cared if she did shoot herself or not. If he hadn’t said anything, she’d probably be a corpse right now. “Why the hell do you care?” she growled. She never looked in his direction, but rather kept her attention focused on the horizon.

“Well I’m just curious. Aren’t you a celebrated Hero? Albion absolutely adores you! You saved thousands of lives. I imagine you’d be showered with all sorts of gifts. Maybe be swooned to some alluring man or woman and have several children by now.” Reaver cocked his head to the side. “So how come such a loved person would dare put a gun to her head?”

Sparrow scoffed. “Like you would fucking care. What does it matter to you? Would you weep if you had found a cold body here rather than a drunken husk?”

“Someone’s frisky.”

Sparrow flung her fist out, ready to make contact with the smarmy bastard only for the little shit to casually dodge. Sparrow pulled back and bore daggers into whatever pathetic soul Reaver harbored. His smirk grew wider as he looked this woman up and down. Her hair was a mess, her eyes red from tears and bloodshot with an overwhelming amount of alcohol. Her Will lines even seemed dimmer than they were when he first saw her.

“You really have let yourself go. It’s only been a year,” Reaver commented.

Sparrow wanted to pummel that pretty face into a pulp, but knew he would just dodge her drunken attacks. She turned back forward and chugged the rest of her bottle. She threw it to the side, but didn’t reach for another. “It’s only been a year and you’re already back from Samarkand,” Sparrow replied after some silence. “What happened there? Crawled into the wrong bed and get in trouble?”

Reaver smiled at her teasing tone. He really did like a person with a quippy tongue. “Oh no, I didn’t crawl into any wrong beds. Actually they were all the right ones. The people over there are a little more exotic than our humble Albion citizens.”

Sparrow snorted. “Wow. Did you spend your entire time there sleazing about?”

“Actually no. My visit was cut short by a certain Will user.” Reaver waved his hand around. “He was a little upset that I tried to kill him and nearly turned me into a crisp.”

Sparrow glanced at Reaver. “You tried to kill Garth, failed and barely escaped?”

Reaver nodded.

“Shame. Would’ve been nice to see a burnt ass pirate.”

“Oh come now, where would the fun be in that!” Reaver threw his arms in the air. “I’m too handsome to die.”

“Haven’t you lived for a couple hundred centuries? I’m pretty sure your time is coming to an end.”

“Well, maybe, but I somehow always manage to find a way unscathed.”

Sparrow rolled her eyes. “How unfortunate for society.” She finally reached for one of the bottles and popped the cork. There was no hesitation as she ingested the foul liquid. She had already drank three of these bottles. Her taste buds had gone numb to the horrid taste.

Reaver and Sparrow sat in silence for a while. Long enough for the moon to rise behind them casting their shadows on the sand. Sparrow’s mind drifted away, back into deep thoughts. The pistol was still in her lap and she wondered if she would actually go through with her original impulse. Or did Reaver ironically save her? Was there a reason for this? No, she shook her head. Just random chance. Then again, Reaver could have watched as she pulled the trigger. Unless maybe he wanted a go at her himself.

“Tell me something, shithead, why’d you stop me?” Sparrow finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?” Reaver responded, tilting his head.

“You could have watched me blow my brains out, but you didn’t. You said something and stopped me.” She turned to him. “Why?”

Reaver shrugged. “I didn’t think you were actually going to do it, whether I had said something or not. I was simply surprised someone like you would even think about that.”

“What do you mean someone like me?”

“Tch, you have everything you could have ever wanted in the world! People shower you with love and praise and would throw themselves before you begging to take your hand in marriage. And you have the gall to go and off yourself?!” Reaver let out a condescending laugh. “Truly pathetic.”

Sparrow snarled and threw her bottle to the side, the alcohol spilling and staining the sand. Reaver didn’t have enough time to react before Sparrow was on top of him, her hands around his throat. “Of course a bastard like you would say that!” She squeezed harder and Reaver grabbed her arms, trying to push her off of him. “Of course you would think my life is so grand! You’ve probably never even given a shit about anyone but yourself! Actually I know that’s true because you tricked me into giving away my life, just so you can stay young!” Sparrow snarled harder and could feel Reaver’s throat slowly collapsing in her hands. “Well I’m going to take your fucking immorality you little shit!”

Sparrow squeezed harder and harder, but did not expect the breath to be knocked out of her by a knee in her back. The blow caused her to loosen her grip and gave Reaver enough time to roll around and pin her to sandy ground. He pinned her arms above her head and dug his knees into her sides. It took him a few moments to catch his breath and all the while, Sparrow struggled. But in her drunken state and current position, she was too weak to force Reaver off of her.

“I must say, that is the closest...anyone has gotten to killing me,” Reaver chuckled, still trying to collect stolen breath. “And that is the closest anyone has personally gotten to me to kill me. Most attempts on my life are far away.” He smiled down at Sparrow who was still snarling. She looked like a savage dog, ready to rip his heart out if he were to let go of her. “I love that fire in your eyes. It does things,” Reaver purred leaning in closer.

“This fire will manifest if you’re not careful, shitstain,” Sparrow growled.

“Oh ho ho, you have such a foul mouth. I like that.”

Sparrow tried to push herself off the ground, but Reaver had her arms in such a weird position that she couldn’t move. It didn’t help that he had squeezed his legs against hers, preventing her from kicking at him like he did with her. Maybe if she could flick her hand properly, she could get a spectral blade to pierce through his skull. She figured it was worth a shot and began moving her hands.

Reaver clicked his tongue and shook his head. His hands moved to her own and he locked their fingers together. “I’ve always considered Will users cheaters. There’s no fairness in magic.” Sparrow growled and tried to throw Reaver off balance somehow. Nothing worked. The pirate had her pinned completely. She was too weak and drunk to actually do anything.

She relaxed and let her head rest in the sand. “Just fucking end me already. I’m tired of these bloody games Reaver.”

Reaver raised an eyebrow. “End you? What, do you think I would kill you?”

“Really?” Sparrow asked sarcastically. “You literally tried to kill Garth, had originally tried to betray me to Lucien, and even said you would try to kill me. So yes. I think you would kill me. And honestly at this point, if you did, I’d probably kiss you.”

Reaver smiled at that last part. “Is that what would it take to get a kiss from you? Simply end your life?”

Sparrow rolled her eyes. “Yeah have fun kissing a corpse you bastard.”

Reaver leaned in closer, dangerously close. “What if I got that kiss before I ended your life.”

Sparrow frowned. “I wasn’t being serious.”

“Oh but I was.” Reaver smiled again.

Red spread across Sparrow’s cheeks. She had many men and women flirt with her, but they usually fell on deaf ears and had never affected her. Even when she did take them to bed. Most of the time, those lovestruck idiots were simply a distraction to her. A way to ease her mind of things.

But the way Reaver flirted with her was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the redness on her cheeks clearly showed something was amiss.

And she hated it.

She hated that this scumbag piece of shit was making her blush.

He was close enough that Sparrow could headbutt him. Reaver cried out, but didn’t let go of Sparrow’s hands. He simply fell back, pulling Sparrow up with him. She saw this as her chance to break free, but before she could react, Reaver had quickly recovered and had her arms twisting behind her back. They were even closer now and it made Sparrow’s skin crawl.

“You’ll have to do better than that darling,” Reaver smirked. “With the amount of times I’ve been headbutted, I’m surprised there isn’t a permanent dent on my beautiful face.”

“I’m going to rip your pretty face to shreds if you don’t let me go,” Sparrow hissed.

“Now how would you do that with your hands behind you back and legs in no position to overthrow me. You’re completely drunk, I’m still astonished you can speak full words. You have no advantage here. How exactly are you going to beat me?” Reaver asked, his words filled with challenge.

He was right. With her hands awkwardly bent behind her back and Reaver sitting on her lap, his legs keeping hers from moving, there really wasn’t anything she could do. She couldn’t even try another headbutt without risking pulling an arm out of socket. And there was the fact that she was drunk. She could feel the buzz coming over her body fully now, because of the movements she had made. Her head was dizzy.

It was weird, the thoughts now coming to her mind. How was she here, trapped in the arms of the man who basically stopped her from taking her life? Now all she wanted was to sleep. No dark thoughts tried to pry themselves into her mind. No feeling of loss or self-hatred. She was just tired.

Sparrow sighed and let her head rest on Reaver’s shoulder. “I submit. I’m too tired to fight back. Just do whatever. I don’t care at this point.” She closed her eyes and relaxed. She wasn’t going to fight him. Even if he let her go and left her on the beach, she’d just curl up in a ball and sleep, the sound of the ocean being her only comfort.

She could feel sleep starting to take her as Reaver let her arms go. Her shoulders stung as her arms fell to her sides, but she didn’t care. She was too tired to care. She barely reacted to Reaver picking her up bridal style and taking her somewhere. The last thing she saw was the Spire in the distance over Reaver’s shoulder before the dark embrace of sleep finally took over.

#fable #fable 2 #reaver #reaver fable #sparrow #sparrow fable #sparrow x reaver #spreaver #writing #G-W76 #Galaxy:Fable #my writing

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ruiyuki-archives · 4 years

Text

bnha + tdmm gundam AU

This is an AU I wrote on the todomomo discord server eons ago. Anything posted to this blog will be transcripts of old original work and not really edited, save for formatting. I have no guarantees if I will ever finish these AUs either so these will only be kept as an archive.

Heavily inspired by Gundam SEED/Destiny

Original transcript posted to tdmm discord: Aug 2018

BNHA MECHA/MILITARY/GUNDAM AU??? FT. TDMM + OTHERS.

JUST HEAR ME OUT OK:

idk when this is set but some sci-fi au where earth is at war w some enemy people and the military uses mechs

U.A. aka United Alliance is the military organization in charge of Earth's mechs

decades ago for idk.. WW III or something, pilots enlisted in U.A. piloting giant mechs (aka H.E.R.O.S. - “high efficiency robotic operating systems”) became protectors of citizens?? some shit like that.

the top pilots made a name for themselves were namely Toshinori Yagi piloting the TPHR-ALL MIGHT at #1 and #2 Todoroki Enji piloting the FLHR-ENDEAVOR

(Bonus: TPHR for "The People's HERO" and FLHR for, you guessed it, "Flame HERO" woooo)

but during the final mecha fight that subsequently ended WW III, Toshinori Yagi was declared MIA bc his mech crash landed on some coastal shore and by the time they found ALL MIGHT, the cockpit was empty and the pilot was gone

anyway fast forward >> U.A. has a cadet school and low and behold who do we find enrolled,,, aspiring young pilots Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki

they both heard the heroic stories of pilot Toshinori and ALL MIGHT and woooo got into U.A.

also in U.A. ofc is Todoroki Shouto whos been groomed to be a mecha pilot since age 5 courtesy of Enji. D u h. (Enji's still piloting ENDEAVOR at this time but has it pretty set that Shouto will inherit piloting his mech)

aaand ofc we get the rest of class 1A in U.A. cadet school for various reasons

ANYWAY im not going into cadet school days bc thats boring but lets say ofc top of the class pilots are Izuku Bakugou and Todoroki that aces all the flight simulations blah blah blah

Also Toshinori was found to be declared MIA to the public but actually whoop. He's at U.A. as one of the boardmembers bc ofc that’s how im making the story work. Idk he was too injured and has too much ptsd that he cant pilot anymore and is looking for the next pilot to inherit ALL MIGHT (which is fixed up by now)

NOW INTO THE ACTUAL MEAT OF THE STORY - NEW WAR (WW4? I GUESS)

CADET KIDS ARE NO LONGER CADETS. THEYRE FULL FLEDGED PILOTS NOW AND ARE THROWN INTO THE NEXT WAR BC THAT WAS PART OF WHAT THEY SIGNED UP FOR. Whos the enemy? LoV ofc but i dont have a cool name for them yet LMAOOOO

K SO new war. New battle cruisers. New mechs yayayya

U.A. has 2 new battle cruisers: Sirius A and Sirius B, designated (1-A and 1-B DUH)and duh, the crew of 1-A and 1-B is gonna be classes respectively

1-A, Aizawa is captain of the ship LMAOOOO Momo's the crew's battle analyst on comms + nav, Iida takes the helm, idk whos gonna be on weaponry yet but I kinda wanna make it Tokoyami

Izuku Bakugou and Todoroki are mecha pilots ofc

they have custom made mechs that were made for them for mostly training so the models are pretty basic compared to ALL MIGHT and ENDEAVOR but eh they do the job.

I'm doing the hero name thing again so Izuku pilots OAHR-DEKU, Todo pilots HCHR-SHOUTO and Bakugou pilots.... EXHR-K.E.KILL

bc they’re custom they got to name the mechs so friggin Bakugou. I tried LMAO (if someone can guess the acronyms, bonus points)

also hey! they have a squadron of fighter jet pilots and hey! Its the Bakusquad!!!

each of the fighters have their own names too so you guessed it, their hero namessss ha..ha..ha..ha..

OKAY more people: Hatsume Mei's their engineer. She basically built the mechs and works under Powerloader that built the cruiser ships

Gran Torino built the fighter jets lol

uhh Tsuyu's probably the crew's nurse in the infirmary or smth. Chiyo is the head military doctor back at the U.A. base??? idk

Nedzu head of U.A. Self explanatory.

Fuyumi and Natsuo are there too!!! Fuyumi's part of the cadet teaching staff. Natsuo's a fighter pilot of another fleet

Anyway, TODOMOMO IN THIS AU

they met in cadet training. Momo was working towards being an analyst anyway so naturally they paired up for training exercises as comm + pilot top of the class. Aizawa's first choices when choosing who to enlist in for the 1-A crew

every time Shouto deploys for a fight Momo's hypervigilant in keeping tabs on him in the air bc honestly the worst is seeing a laserbeam aiming for his mech's cockpit

I mean she keeps tabs on Deku and Bakugou too but. y’know she has a bias loool

and god forbid if anything were to happen to Shouto bc the worse would be for him to be MIA or KIA bc this is a war. People lose their lives. She knows its what they signed up for but if she can help him avoid it, she will

but sometimes it cant be helped. Especially since she’s navigating for the other pilots and the ship

it doesn’t help that Shouto's kinda reckless in his mech fights when they get too intense. sometimes he'll ignore his comms all together and when he does that half the time he comes out of his cockpit injured bc nuclear explosions. Recoil. Life threatening occupational hazard. D u h

Momo's basically crying by his bedside in the infirmary every time that happens

and THE ONE INSTANCE WHERE HE IS OFFICIALLY DECLARED MIA, Momo loses it

bc its his fight against the enemy mech CRHR-DABI. Its in the midst of the enemy's unexpected assault. and the 1A and 1B are taking heavy fire. So she has to focus on Aizawa's orders. and Shouto is getting out range that she cant keep tabs on him. and he's ignoring her comms. so by the end of it, by the time the enemy ships and mechs retreat, HCHR-SHOUTO is g o n e

the dust clears up. Its raining. The fighting's stopped. All of the enemy forces has retreated so U.A. calls their pilots to retreat

2 of their 3 mechs have returned to the ship except for SHOUTO. And Momo's frantically trying to get through to him. But nothing.

Aizawa orders her to stop trying. they'll send out a search team to investigate his last known location after everyone rests. Repairs to 1A and the mechs need to be made. They have to make haste, but for now, rest.

all the logistical post-battle crap is cared for first. Status reports, repair agenda, the next battle plan. The search team is sent out.

nothing.

they keep looking.

nothing for days.

keep looking.

they find it. HCHR-SHOUTO in a lake torn to shambles. The cockpit cut open. Blood stains trail out toward the forest it crashed in but no pilot nearby. (Bc hell ya im gonna recycle tropes loool)

Todoroki Shouto declared missing in action.

Momo gets the update and she’s devastated

but theres no time to mourn. A second enemy attack.

the Orion fleet is called in. ENDEAVOR's fleet.

and there he is. that mech. CRHR-DABI. again.

DABI VS ENDEAVOR wooooooooooooo

but this time its nearby the city. Civilians need to be evacuated. WGHR-HAWKS assists in protecting the city as much as possible.

but yup ENDEAVOR gets destroyed too. Enji comes out of his cockpit in critical condition. and the enemy retreats again.

more aftermath. More repairing, more strategies, more recovering the injured. Its a war after all.

U.A. works on building a new mech. ENDEAVOR #2. But Enji has to officially retire from piloting due to his head injury.

and his successor is missing.

there is no pilot.

that is until Shouto shows up again!!!!

he has new scar on the left side of his face.

he saw ENDEAVOR's fight.

he’s alive. He’s come back. And he's out to take down DABI.and you bet he made his dramatic reappearance like:

Aizawa, at a battle meeting with Momo, Nedzu, Toshinori and other UA officials: "Tell me Nedzu. what choices do we have? Enji is compromised. His successor is missing. We're out of pilots. Who’s going to pilot the second ENDEAVOR?"

Todo, walking casually through the door: "I will."

After thoughts:

hi yes pls imagine all the pilots in skin tight pilot suits and helmets bc HAHAHHAA NGL THAT WAS THE 5% MOTIVATION OF ME COMING UP WITH THIS AU 👀

also momo in a military uniform 👀

the mechs look like their hero uniforms. OAHR-DEKU is green & white in colour. EXHR-K.E.KILL is black & orange. HCHR-SHOUTO is red blue silver.

TPHR-ALL MIGHT is gold & royal blue. FLHR-ENDEAVOR is blue red and orange.

CRHR-DABI is grey and purple and is piloted by Touya who else would it be

the fleet that i said Natsuo was a part of is the Orion fleet.. Enji's fleet

now that I think about it, Aoyama is probably the designer behind the pilot suits

Shouto names the 2nd ENDEAVOR mech HCHR-REI after his mom

his mom is a civilian and is very much alive kthx Im not pulling some EVA shit here ok

> bonus tdmm mecha NSFW

> archives masterpost

#todomomo #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #ruiyukis unfinished aus #IDK man just take it #this was from when i finished vld s7 and gave me mecha au vibes #things that wouldnt leave me alone

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tiffersthenerdyficrecs · 4 years

Text

DabiHawks Angst Fics.

And This is Who I Really Am, a Phoenix Spitting Flame by Touya_Todoroki

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Iida Tensei | Ingenium/Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Fuyumi & Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Inko/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Fuyumi, Todoroki Natsuo, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Iida Tensei | Ingenium, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko, Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Eri (My Hero Academia), Shinsou Hitoshi Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dabi is a Todoroki, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, All of the Todoroki Siblings are Gay, Dabi and Todoroki Shouto Are Siblings, Extra Crispy Kentucky Fried Hero, Hero Dabi, hotwings, Recovery, abuse recovery, dabi has ptsd, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Moving On, Small Victories, Therapy, Prolonged Exposure Therapy, Dialectal Behavioral Therapy, Expanding on the First Book's Epilogue, Rei Todoroki is an Angel, dabihawks gift exchange, Gift Exchange, Shibari Summary: After Endeavor's trial, the Todoroki family is taking time to heal and overcome their memories of the patriarch. Touya, in particular, is having a tough time about it. Something just doesn't feel right in the back of his mind.

At least he has his pretty bird. His wings.

A journey of the Todoroki family's recovery, through the eyes of Dabi and Hawks.

crimson headache, aching blush by Inkbrush

Rating: Mature Relationships: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Hawks/Todoroki Touya Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya, Hawks (My Hero Academia) Additional Tags: Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi is Bad at Feelings (My Hero Academia), Getting Together, Enemies to Lovers, Protective Dabi (My Hero Academia), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Wings Summary: Dabi doesn't care for Hawks. He doesn't notice how his wings catch the light. he doesn't love his grinning, sharp mouth. So when Hawks begs a favour, he really doesn't want to help.

Or: When Hawks looks at him, Dabi burns.

Dead Things by Neurotoxin

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warnings: Underage, Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Hawks/Todoroki Touya, Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor/Todoroki Touya Characters: Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya Additional Tags: Childhood Friends, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe, Heavy Angst, Bonding, Developing Friendships, Loneliness, Dabi is a Todoroki, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Disturbing Themes, Implied Sexual Content, Teenagers, Everyone Needs A Hug, Dissociation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Memory Loss, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Dark subject matter, horror themes, Mythologies lore and Urban legends, descriptions of burning, Mental Instability, Suffering, Implied Medical Experimentation, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, aftermath of abuse, Victim Blaming, Childhood Trauma, Child Neglect, Rape, Light Masochism, Child sexual grooming, Implied/Referenced Murder, Referenced arson and other crimes, Moral Dilemmas, Like this shit is really sad, really really sad, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Non-consensual experimentation, Attempted Murder, Hawks needs to stand up for himself, Dabi needs to chill, He has zero chill in this fic, And hes insane, And a thot, Touya is a creepy little bastard, Lil hawks is a ray of traumatized sunshine, Endeavor is literally the devil, Threats of Death, Threats of Violence, If You Think This Has A Happy Ending You Havent Been Paying Attention Summary: "Hawks met Touya on a sunny spring afternoon, at a calm lake tucked away within the peaceful company of woods and brush. Warm solitude and calm waters. The smell of fresh wild flowers and everything natural.

Touya reminded him of a ghost.

Hawks met Dabi on a dark fall night, at a dingy, loud alley tucked away in the midst of the bad side of town. Surrounded by the smell of trash and burnt flesh. Chaos and death.

Dabi reminded him of the dead."

Almost by quirkless_loser

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationship: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia) Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Toga Himiko, Bubaigawara Jin | Twice, League of Villains (My Hero Academia) Additional Tags: Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi Being An Asshole (My Hero Academia), Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff and Angst Summary: Dabi recognizes a spy when he sees one. After all, he's been playing a double agent for a while now, and has plans to take down the League and ruin Endeavor's good name. Then the number two hero shows up and threatens Dabi's plans with his horrible acting skills. Dabi will do anything to make Hawks give up his little game. Even if he has to flirt with him to do it.

human colors by ZenzaNightwing

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Relationship: Hawks/Dabi (implied) Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya, Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Fuyumi, Toga Himiko Additional Tags: Angst, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Songfic, Temporary Character Death, sorta - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, quirk musings, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor Being An Asshole, dabi-centric, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Non-Linear Narrative, Scars, Burns, Touch-Starved, Character Study Summary: Todoroki Touya burns himself alive.

He is rather disappointed to find that he isn't dead.

A series of interconnected story sections set to the song 'Favorite Color Is Blue' by Robert DeLong and K.Flay.

Canary in a Coal Mine by marreena

Rating: Explicit Categories: Gen, M/M Relationships: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Hawks & Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Hawks (My Hero Academia), Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Dabi is a Todoroki, Tags to be added, trans hawks, Character Study, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst, but also fluff Summary: There’s two parts to being a hero, wanting to save people and being dumb as shit.

Hawks happened to excel at both.

Dabi brought out both of those sides of him in strides.

and we're going down, yeah, we going soon by unova

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Hawks/Todoroki Touya Characters: Hawks (My Hero Academia), Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya Additional Tags: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi is a Todoroki, Dabi and Todoroki Shouto Are Siblings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst Summary: “Do it,” Dabi coughs, staring up at the winged hero towering over him. Blood is trickling from his mouth, yet he still manages to grit his teeth in defiance. He growls, almost miserably, “Finish your job.”

The crimson knife trembles in Hawks’ hand. He can’t.

Or: In which Hawks is assigned to kill Dabi, but ends up falling in love with him instead.

A Hateful Way Of Living by Hightress

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia), Hawks/Todoroki Touya Characters: Dabi (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Touya, Hawks (My Hero Academia), Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko Additional Tags: Dabi is a Todoroki, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi and Todoroki Shouto Are Siblings, Dabi (My Hero Academia)-centric, Canon Compliant, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Angst, Non-Graphic Smut, double agent hawks, Betrayal, Character Study Summary: He never expected Hawks to stab him in the back.

To Feel Alive by Alois_Trashy

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationship: Dabi/Hawks (My Hero Academia) Characters: DabiHawks - Character, Mentions of Todoroki Family Additional Tags: M to be safe with the violence, Dabi is a Todoroki, mostly angst, Hopeful Ending Summary: A part of Dabi's life told through snapshots. Each dealing with a weather pattern and one of the senses.

#dabihawks #hotwings #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #angst #all the sad feels #tiffersthenerdy #ao3 #dabi #hawks #todoroki touya #sometimes #fanfiction #fanfic #fic rec

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war--lords · 4 years

Text

Hanayome

Warnings: Female!Reader, mild family conflict, possible inaccuracy Word count: 3,648 Tagged: #hanayome Translations and important notes:

Irouchikake is a colorful variant of the bridal kimono, while shiromuku is the kind that is all white.

Norito chants are a form of Shinto prayer/incantation.

Shimenawa refers to the special rope used to signify something holy, like trees, for example.

Tengu literally means ‘heavenly dog’, but in mythology, they are portrayed to take the form of birds of prey.

This has really gotten out of hand—I know it’s not nearly as popular as my other fics, but I genuinely enjoy writing this, going so far as to stay up late and make multiple edits :’) So I hope you enjoy reading it!

Part 1 Part 3

Not long ago you were dressed in a rush with the help of at least four other miko, and now, an intricate hairstyle sitting atop your head and donning an irouchikake, you stand before the red gate, eager to make the ascent. Your garbs are especially audacious when compared to Kiku’s shiromuku: its scarlet base, just as the god Tengu demands, brings out the black-colored designs, and on top of that are auspicious imagery filled with white and outlined in what seemed to be gold thread. It appears to shine as you walk.

If Kiku looked like winter’s first snow, you looked like autumn’s burning foliage.

Your attire is the last thing on your mind, however. It never crossed your mind that you would actually climb up those sacred stairs to the Seiiki just the way you imagined it earlier, while you were half-asleep and angry. There is still a low fire kindling at the bottom of your gut, but it is more determination than vexation. You’ve hugged Kiku and your mother after you got dressed—they held you in their arms as if it would be their last time seeing you, but a part of your demeanor shows as though you were only meeting the god Tengu to talk. You’ve yet to decide if that’s a form of denial.

As for your father, you knelt before him and kept your head down for the appropriate amount of time. You don’t know what kind of face he made. You don’t really care.

Something inside you tells you that it’d be better for them without you. You hastily brush that thought away, realizing that the voice is the same one who whispers only ugly things to you. It’s not as if your fate is sealed, anyway—you’re adamant to show the god Tengu that he isn’t the only one with demands, and the first one you’ll declare is for that harrowing mark on Kiku’s neck to disappear. You won’t leave until it is done.

Then again, you’re not sure if you want to go back to the temple. Do you? Unconsciously your eyebrows knit, the first symptoms of your overthinking. You’ll deal with the problem when the problem arises, you decide. Pondering won’t be of much help.

You look back to the unmoving scene behind you: your family, standing in a row in their ceremonial garbs, followed by the whole of the temple. They are all completely still, with little to no emotion betrayed by their faces. Only Kiku appears to be misty-eyed, most likely from how downright absurd the tables turned. As your gaze falls on her you spy the red string around her neck. You choose to flash her a small smile, but you find yourself not knowing what it means. “You’ll be fine on your own”? “I’m sorry it turned out this way”? “I’ll be back”? Somehow you mean all of that and, at the same time, none of them feel right.

You spare one final glance at your parents before walking out the red gate. Despite your mild fever, your steps are wide and sure, not as fast as the vision you saw in your mind’s eye, but just as driven. The evenfall rain thins out into a light shower. Still, you have an umbrella in one hand, the traditional lantern gripped tightly by the other. The young miko from earlier follows closely behind you—she volunteered to climb again because she was “already wet anyway”, but everyone insisted that she carried an umbrella nevertheless.

If the steps aren’t so slippery you would already be running, you mentally note.

Up and up you go, feeling the air change ever so slightly with each inhale. The rustle of bamboo leaves to your left and right becomes the new silence to your ears, with only the occasional whistle of wind as an almost musical accompaniment. Rain brings out a nostalgic smell from the ground—it reminds you that your feet are still on earth, and that the soil on top of Mount Kurama the same soil on top of which the village is built.

You think that the twists and turns of the steps are rather broad compared to what it looks like from afar. In person, it feels more like a gentle change of direction, and it makes you pay more attention to the mountain, like you are feeling where the ground is level and where it slopes. Your mind maps it out almost like a human body: alive.

The thought helps especially because it feels like you are climbing a stairway to heaven.

You preoccupy yourself with the topology—anything to stave away excessive, useless rumination. You find that norito chants prove to be effective as well.

To your disdain, however, climbing a seemingly endless flight of stairs does things to your mind. It has to be quite a while since the start of your climb, and your eyes are beginning to spin from looking at the same pattern of stones many times over. The mantras lose their purpose as soon as muscle memory takes over, your lips mechanically forming the words, robbing your mind from the necessity to think it through. Your fingers adjust their grip on the umbrella and you purse your lips.

You can’t help but think about Kiku, and you briefly wonder if she thought about you too during her ascent.

It is not off the mark for you to assume that the holy steps are also a place of trial, for the things you recall about your shared childhood with Kiku seems to highlight only the darkest moments. You know that it was overall a pleasant, peaceful experience, growing up with her, but the steps… it’s as if every single bitter knot in the deepest crevices of your mind has surfaced because of it, no matter how small and ugly they may be.

She is the temperate lake to your forest fire.

Not exactly loving words coming from a father, but not exactly lies. Kiku has always been the milder one, and you know that this has led to her being more well-liked. She isn’t absolutely obedient and meek, but compared to you, she appears so. After all, you are always the one to question, accepting the argument that inevitably occurs in the aftermath. Perhaps that was why you weren’t as popular with the boys when you were young—you were close to plenty of them, but only as a friend, never a love interest.

Kiku was very popular. Still is. In fact, when that fateful arrow shot the temple roof, many brave—borderline foolish—men offered a more... confrontational kind of solution in hopes of saving her from her destiny. Your father declined, however. They would simply perish before the god Tengu and further fuel his anger, which would do the village no favors whatsoever. You remember how it was the same back in the day—a lot of boys enjoy helping out Kiku, perhaps viewing her as nothing more but a powerless pretty girl, but you were always there for her first. Subconsciously, your lips tug into a small smile.

With that many pursuers, you wonder if Kiku had any lovers. You recall some who were close to capturing her heart, but she was very young and feeble, maybe a little scared of the idea about a relationship—especially after your father found out about one particular boy she was close to and drove him off, forbidding Kiku from ever seeing him again. His family wasn’t distinguished enough in your father’s eyes, this much you understood even while you were younger. You remember feeling angry about it.

“I swear I love him,” she cried in your arms that night, “so much...”

That was probably the hardest she’s ever cried in front of you.

On the other hand, your luck was never in the romantic sphere, so to speak. There were men interested in you, but it never lasted. You had your fair share of rejecting their advances because you just thought a relationship wasn’t what you wanted, and you also had to go through some painful, confusing experiences with the man suddenly growing disinterested and leaving. It brought you an amount of self-doubt, which later on grew to become rooted insecurities that you somehow couldn’t blame on anyone.

You’re sure Kiku has her own problems to deal with, a sentiment that you think she shares. This could be largely why the two of you were never gravely jealous of each other—a level of empathy and communication led the two of you to an understanding that you are different and it’s okay.

It’s okay. The thought serves more like a promise than a statement because you feel your legs begin to ache. The repeating stone patterns seem to be all your eyes can see and it’s starting to make you sick.

Just a little more, you think, as the stairs make yet another turn.

——————————

You don’t know if it’s fatigue or fog, but by the time you reach the peak, everything seems so cloudy it looks like a dream. The air is significantly colder on top of the mountain, and you’re suddenly grateful for the many layers of your bridal ensemble—they are not made for warmth, but in its abundance you find comfort. The forest’s rustles fill the silence, though the wind isn’t as strong now.

In front of you are stairs no more, only single leveled stone path with flaming bamboo torches on its left and right despite the consistently light rain. Holy flames, you note, and the way it looks more white than gold reminds you of the arrow. There’s a faint throbbing in your chest, making you stop in your tracks for a moment.

She will climb up Mount Kurama to meet her groom and dwell in the Seiiki with him forever.

You feel the young miko’s gaze behind you, watching, perhaps in concern from your sudden inaction. You allow yourself to let out a sigh as you start to walk again.

Swiftly, the flames of the torches parallel to you disappear with a whoosh, as though they were blown away by something. You are indeed taken aback, but manage to keep your emotions hidden, continuing to walk the stone path. For all you know, there could be watchful eyes in places you can’t see—the god Tengu attracts devotees with many powers that can be used to harm mankind should he wills it.

You walk on, trying to ignore the way each torch blows out when you pass them. You look up at the sky from under your umbrella—it’s so nice to finally be able to see it again, after what seems like hours of climbing and looking down at your feet to make sure you don’t slip. The night is dark and the rain remains insistent, but you can see the clouds beginning to drift away, revealing stars that look too close to be real.

Not long after you discovering a wide clearing to what seems like a terribly unassuming, unmistakably old mansion, albeit not the kind of old that is worn throughout the years. It is the kind of old you don’t see, but feel. And yet its feeling is as plain as day, even the most spiritually detached can see it—that this is a place of utmost sanctity, one that a daughter of a head priestess such as yourself hasn’t experienced.

Shimenawa ropes are tied together from the bronze poles that surround the mansion’s court. Wordlessly, you turn around to look at the young miko—she already knows what to do, this being her second ascent within less than a day. From the bundle of cloth, she takes out a jug and a single rice ball, her meal before she returns, traversing down those same treacherous stairs to the temple. You watch as she makes herself comfortable, sitting down at a spot at the end of the path. Filled with sympathy, you wonder why she willingly undertook the task, and if you’ll ever see her again after stepping foot beyond the shimenawa.

Offering her a long bow, you take one last look at the miko—she can’t be much older than you—before bracing yourself to face the inevitable. According to the ancient decree, only head priests are allowed in the temple, but you suppose the god Tengu can bend as many rules as he wants as long as he’s the one who designed them.

You lean down to grab the rope. Holding it above and over you, you step in, both feet touching the court’s cobblestones. Nothing happens. Were you not meant to be here, how will you perish? Thunder? Fire? A flock of the god Tengu’s hawks, from the stories, descending from the sky to pierce at your flesh and gouge your eyes out?

...or maybe an arrow to the heart?

Your chest throbs yet again. The many distracting thoughts your mind conjures make you feel like your head is crowded and full, so you decide to count each step you take towards the mansion. Its obvious entrance, marked by more torches, is facing you, the symmetry of the building conveniently letting you know where to go—straight ahead.

One. Two. Three. Four. Your heart starts beating faster than it should.

The sound of your geta on the ground echoes, five, six, seven, eight, and you watch the lights in the mansion. Somebody is home. You wonder if you’ve ever been this nervous, because by the eighth, ninth, tenth step, the butterflies inside your stomach have multiplied, their wings fluttering up a storm. A minor shiver racks up your spine and you feel your fever coming back twofold. There’s cold sweat on your nape.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen. You will yourself not to look back at the young miko—has she gotten enough rest?—for fear that you will abandon your mission. But you can’t. You don’t want to. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen steps in, and you remember Kiku’s neck, the crumpled paper from the arrow slipped in your obi, the white fire. Suddenly the butterflies are powerless, dissolving like cotton flowers on a lake. Your heart might still be beating as fast as a rabbit’s, but you feel purpose coursing through your veins.

It takes you fifty steps to reach the mansion’s entrance, and by that time you feel the fog clouding your mind has been lifted. Besides the dryness of your throat, nothing else seems uncomfortable, even the heavy irouchikake isn’t as heavy as it was at the beginning of your ascent. You’ve never felt more present, more centered and grounded. All your doubts purged by the stairs, leaving you light but not faint.

You are exactly where you need to be.

Realizing that your lantern is unneeded, you place it gently in front of the stairs towards the door. You walk up, counting each of them. Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.

The sliding door opens without any prompting, and you find yourself unsurprised. He is expecting a guest, after all—one that is supposed to stay forever. You look ahead, taking in the interior as much as you can without delaying your arrival too much. The god Tengu lives in the mansion of an emperor, which is arguably modest considering his godliness. A straight hallway lies in front of you, leading you to the next door.

Your chest responds as the door behind you closes, this time not a dull ache, but a more powerful shudder. Strangely enough, you don’t find it painful anymore.

——————————

Kiku is right—the room is large, a throne room for royalty. He sits in the middle, at the very end of the room, like a languid yet expectant royalty. To an unassuming person, he appears to be just as human as you are, no more than thirty years of age. He wears the finest of fabrics, the designs on his kimono lavish and grand. Like the rest of the room, he wears scarlet lots of black, including a feathery cape on his back. His seat on the carnelian dais is simple in comparison to how you imagine most thrones would look like, but it is the ceiling-high decorations and ornaments surrounding it, colored in red, black and gold, that makes it impressive.

No, that isn’t right. It is he who makes it impressive. Intimidating. Powerful.

Just like in the stories, he has a face of a hawk, except that it is a mask. It covers half of his face, revealing only his mouth and the lower part of his face to view. You notice there are no holes for his eyes to see—the only explanation is that he doesn’t need them. The swoop of the hawk’s bill forms a sharp silhouette that makes you wonder if it can cut through skin.

The mask can’t, but the real hawk on his shoulder most definitely can. It watches you with caution from its perch, its yellow eyes seemingly shining through black feathers. You notice two black dogs, one on each side, sitting just underneath his feet below the dais. Under their paws are brilliant red orbs, which look a lot like their blood eyes.

“Come closer.”

His voice booms even from so far away, and it doesn’t look like he’s trying to be loud at all. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off of him as you walk down the room. The beating of your heart in your ears are deafening on top of the silence. Is it because you are facing a god that your mortal body can’t take it? You might be filled with resolve, but it’ll meaning absolutely nothing should your heart decide to explode.

With his hands he lets you know that he wants you in front of him—he steps down from the dais, and at that moment you notice that the cape you thought he was wearing turns out to be a pair of broad wings. The air around you moves as they flap once, as if to stretch. He waits for you.

Standing in front of him, you find your self-awareness extremely heightened. He is taller than you, with wider shoulders and an unmistakable aura of inhuman authority. Despite all this, however, he does not extort any fear out of you at all. In fact, he is strangely... comforting. Like something you’ve known your whole life.

Kiku’s voice rings in your ears just then. He said your name... he wants you.

“The paper,” he says, holding out his hand. There are no echoes to his voice anymore.

You reach for the crumpled slip and took it out, giving it to him with both hands.

He receives it on his palm, and instantly the calligraphic character on it emits a strong light, beaming up holy rays to the ceiling. You feel your breath knocked out of you—your chest. It’s hot. And then, excruciating pain. Too much for you to bear, too agonizing you can’t make a sound, your mouth feebly opening in a silent scream. It spreads through your nerves and you can sense them so clearly like they’re burning paths on your skin. Your hands clutch your chest in fear of your heart bursting out of your ribcage. Tears begin to form in your eyes, closed from the sheer pain of it all.

A second later it’s over, the ‘marriage’ kanji returning to its dull ink color, and in that moment all the strength escapes your body. Everything—from the ascent, from your dream, from when the arrow first struck your home, from the years of your life before all this—they’ve all been let go from you, merely sands through your fingers. You’re about to fall face-first from the weakness in your knees but he knows, bringing you into his arms until you seem ready to stand on your own. His hands on your waist and back are pleasantly warm.

“Red looks exquisite on you.”

“Yes, but it isn’t so flattering on Kiku. Reverse that enchantment on her at once.”

“My, you’ve always been one fireball, haven’t you,” he replies with a chuckle. It reverberates from his chest to yours, and there’s something immediately calming about the sound. “It has been done,” he says, showing you the paper in his hand. It doesn’t look much different, but you can clearly notice the absence of its spiritual force. You felt it first-hand.

As you slowly depart from the security of his arms, trying to regain your bearings, you feel his hand on your forehead.

“You are still warm,” he declares, emotions unreadable from under the mask. “We shall continue this somewhere more appropriate for you to rest.” He knows you have much to discuss with him—he is a god, after all. At this point, nothing should surprise you.

“I’m fine,” you quickly say, and it suddenly strikes you that you’re not sure how to address him.

“Tengu is the name given to the people for them to worship me. To those who are in equal standing as I, I am called Nobunaga. You are my bride,” his hand wills you to look up, a finger under your chin, “thus you are my equal.”

His bride. It hasn’t sunk in yet, but somehow the title is now more palatable than when you first heard it. As if it were destined. You blink, hoping for the thought to go away. Perhaps being in close quarters with a god makes it easier for him to make you feel more inclined to his wishes?

But ‘Nobunaga’... how odd. It sounds like it could be the name of any other man in the village. You look at where his eyes are supposed to be behind the mask.

“Are you going to read my mind throughout the entirety of this meeting?”

“Only to warm you up,” he says, lips curling into a dangerous smirk. He turns around, walking towards a sliding door. With the pain in your chest completely gone, you follow closely behind.

#1.5k #hanayome #sfw #elievalentine #oda nobunaga #nobunaga x reader #reader insert #female reader #au #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird #imagine #imagines #scenario

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leiascully · 6 years

Text

Fic: Between A Rock And A Hard Place (Part 5/5)

Timeline: Season 10 (replaces My Struggle in the All The Choices We’ve Made ‘verse - Visitor + Resident + etc.) Rating: PG Characters: Mulder, Scully, Tad O’Malley, Sveta (established MSR) Content warning: canon-typical body horror (mentions of abduction, forced pregnancy, etc.) A/N: I’m collecting all the related stories that go with Visitor/Resident under the title “All The Choices We’ve Made”, because it felt right at the time. This story is an alternate My Struggle that reflects M&S’ growth/change in the ATCWM ‘verse. I’m weaving canon dialogue into the stories in an attempt to keep the reframing plausibly in line with canon.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | AO3

It's not a surprise the next day when they emerge from the Hoover Building, where they've been supervising the setup of all of the new computers, to see Tad O'Malley's gleaming black limo. The door opens. They get in.

"Glad we caught you, agents," O'Malley says with a grin.

"We're not hard to track down," Mulder says.

"It's the chip in my neck," Scully says dryly, and Mulder isn't sure he's ever heard her joke about it before. But maybe she's spitting into the wind too, reminded of how whoever is behind all this has tampered with her at a molecular level. He admits it is easy to direct (or misdirect) that frustration at Tad O'Malley.

"Hi," Sveta says, waving at them from across the car. O'Malley hasn't brought out the champagne this time, but she's clutching a bottle of Perrier.

Mulder leans back against the leather seat. The car certainly is plush. The perks of selling out, he imagines.

"I didn't think you'd come, Agent Scully," O'Malley says. "After all, your work is so important. So I took the liberty of coming to you." He opens a small fridge concealed under the seat. "Perrier?"

"Thank you," Scully says, accepting a bottle. "What are you doing here, Mr. O'Malley?"

"Exposing a global conspiracy that's crushing the soul of America," O'Malley declares. "Agent Mulder knows what I'm talking about."

"You're ready to make a move?" Mulder asks.

"The Truth Squad with Tad O'Malley with a world exclusive," O'Malley tells him. "The story to end all stories."

"Why don't you give us a preview?" Scully says, settling into her seat.

O'Malley leaned forward. "We begin with a war. The Civil War. The United States splits in two. A new government forms. They mint their own currency. They make their own laws."

"They perpetuate the enslavement and genocide of millions of people," Scully murmurs.

"That enslavement creates the haves and the have-nots. And the halves begin to believe, to truly believe, that they are above the law. That they can meddle with the fates and lives of people they start to consider subhuman: black, white, Native American, and everyone else. An experimental program to create a better person through a variety of methods, including surgical intervention and selective breeding."

Sveta shivers. Scully looks at her compassionately. She reaches for Sveta's hand.

O'Malley doesn't seem to notice their discomfort. "The shadow government continues to exist after the war. The genetic engineering of a superior human continues in the shadows of the shadow. And they have other secrets."

"It all sounds like a ghost story," Scully says in that even voice that immediately sends Mulder into full alert. "Designed to scare children."

"Children should be afraid," O'Malley tells her.

"Everyone should," Mulder says, and he sees the shiver in her eyelid that means she's trying not to roll her eyes at him. "It's a conspiracy bigger and more secret than the Manhattan Project, with tentacles reaching back into the very roots of America."

"The metaphor is mixed," Scully says.

"All the more apt," Mulder tells her. "The Civil War set the stage and World War I gave us access to new technologies, but it wasn't until victories in Europe and Japan that the drama really ratcheted up for the rest of the world."

"Political and economic conditions became perfect for execution of the larger plan," O'Malley declared. "The success of the program in the former Confederate states had spread to the re-United States. Agents of the conspiracy, swearing their allegiance to President Grant, had infiltrated the highest levels of government. World War I and World War II had weakened the European powers that might have held the US in check. As it was, they were delighted to accept the offer of help from the United States, and if it came with a price, they were happy to pay it. Their scientists began working with our scientists. The project stretched those insidious tentacles to grasp the entire globe."

Mulder grins. This is his wheelhouse. Even as much as he's been jerked around and lost his faith, it's still exhilarating to put together the pieces of the puzzle he worked at for half his life. "Paper Clip. Experiments in the aftermath of the atomic bombings. The crash at Roswell leading to cannibalized alien technology and cannibalized alien corpses, all resources that furthered the project."

O'Malley breaks in. "The bomb was the latest threat of extinction, but not the first. The energy of the explosions acted as transducers, creating wormholes that drew in alien ships just like the one that crashed at Roswell, ships that ran using electro-gravitic propulsion. Sacrificing those alien lives with their extraterrestrial biology and their advanced technology delayed our self-immolation on the altar of democracy."

"World leaders signed secret memos directing scientific stuff of alien technology and biochemistry," Mulder puts in. "All in the name of furthering the project, creating a new species that could survive alien invasion or whatever else might wipe us out. Classified studies were done at military installations, extracting alien tissue. S4, Groom Lake, Wright Patterson, and Dulce: all part of a network of black sites where tests were conducted using advanced alien technology recovered from the ships." He glances at Sveta. She has one hand over her mouth. "Tests including human hybridization through gene editing and forced implantation of the resulting embryos in unsuspecting human subjects." He swallows and tries not to look at Scully, but can't help meeting her eyes. "Embryos with extraterrestrial DNA."

Sveta gasps. "Why do such a thing and lie about it? Our own government?"

"Aliens aside," Scully says, "the American government has conducted experiments on unsuspecting populations as a matter of policy. The Tuskegee Syphilis Study lasted for years beyond the point where they could have cured the patients. The scientists in charge chose not to inform their subjects because they were African-American. They let them die horrible, preventable deaths, claiming it was all in the name of science. Genetic material was extracted from a sample of a tumor taken from a black woman named Henrietta Lacks and used without her consent or her family's. Other people have been sterilized against their will, or stolen from their families. I doubt we'll ever understand the full extent of the violence done to the indigenous peoples of the Americas." She exhales loudly. "While I cannot substantiate all of Agent Mulder's claims, I have found evidence of anomalous genetic material being implanted or otherwise introduced into the DNA of numerous subjects, including myself. And you."

"What are they trying to do?" Sveta asks.

"That's the missing piece," Mulder tells her. "We've learned so much, but some part of this eludes us."

"But it's not hard to imagine," O'Malley breaks in. "A government hiding, no, hoarding alien technology for seventy years, at the potential expense of all human life and the future of the planet. A government inside the government, secretly preparing for more than a hundred years for the long-awaited event."

"The takeover of America," Mulder says, feeling sick to his stomach.

"And then the world itself," O'Malley says with an almost religious fervor. "By any means necessary, however violent or cruel. Severe drought brought on by weather wars conducted secretly using aerial contaminants distributed via chemtrails and high-altitude electromagnetic waves. Perpetual war waged overseas, a drain on our resources and our energy engineered by politicians to create problem-reaction-solution scenarios to distract, enrage, and enslave American citizens at home with tools like the Patriot Act, the National Defense Authorization Act, and pure old-fashioned jingoism, abridging the Constitution and its promised freedoms in the name of national security. Every dissident, every minority: a terrorist in situ. Vietnam, but this time they're doing it right."

"Militarize the police forces," Mulder says slowly. "Martial law. FEMA building prison camps. Mercenaries fighting under our flag, but not under our orders."

"The corporate takeover of food and agriculture," O'Malley says smugly. "It's already begun. Monsanto. Dicamba. They've got pharmaceuticals and healthcare in their pocket too. An insurrection of men and women with clandestine agendas to dull, sicken, terrify, and control a populace already consumed by consumerism."

Mulder leans over to Scully. "I didn't really like Wall-E," he whispers. She shakes her head at him.

"A government that taps your phone, collects your data, and monitors your whereabouts with impunity," O'Malley says with a flourish. "A government preparing to use that data against you when it strikes and the final takeover begins."

Mulder nods slowly. There is a seed of truth in O'Malley's conspiracy-addled rant. He's been seeking it long enough to know it when he sees it. The nation is poised on a precipice. All the rest of it is lies, smoke and mirrors, a way to turn the paranoid and the credulous into easy money. But somewhere, under eighty mattress-thick layers of right-wing garbage, is a pea-sized truth, and he's the princess shifting uncomfortably.

"The takeover of America?" Scully asks.

O'Malley leans forward. "By a well-oiled and well-armed multinational group of elites that will cull, kill, and subjugate."

"Happening as we sit here in this car," Scully says.

"It's happening all around us," O'Malley tells her.

"It's been happening for years," Mulder murmurs. "The other shoe waiting to drop."

"It'll probably start on a Friday," O'Malley says. "The banks will announce a security action necessitating that their computers go offline all weekend."

"Digital money will disappear," he says.

Sveta looks startled. "They can just steal your money?" Scully squeezes her hand.

"While the banks are vulnerable, they'll detonate strategic electromagnetic pulse bombs to knock out major grids. Traffic lights, security systems, everything: gone. Hospitals will be on backup generators indefinitely. It will seem like an attack on America by terrorists or Russia."

"Or a simulated alien invasion featuring alien replica vehicles already in use," Mulder murmurs.

"An alien invasion of the U.S.?" Scully says.

"The Russians tried it in '47," Mulder reminds her. "Or they took credit for it, anyway."

"They'll take more than credit this time," O'Malley says. "This goes worldwide. Everything that has happened for the past seventy years has been engineered by this global conspiracy, these shadow players. The structures they've built are designed to crumble, tearing America apart at the seams. They'll build a new world on the ruins of our current one. It will happen soon, and it will happen fast."

Scully shakes her head. "You can't say these things," she tells O'Malley.

"I'm gonna say them tomorrow," O'Malley says with an almost religious fervor in his voice.

Scully frowns. "It's fearmongering, isolationist techno-paranoia so bogus and dangerous and stupid that it borders on treason. Saying these things would be incredibly irresponsible."

"I hate to say this, Scully, but if this is true, it would be irresponsible not to say it," Mulder says reluctantly.

"If it's the truth," Sveta says, "you have to say it."

"It's not the truth," Scully says.

O'Malley grins that smarmy grin. "Agent Scully, with all due respect, I don't think you know what the truth is."

"The only thing I don't know is where you're taking us," Scully says, ice in her voice. "Except on a wild goose chase."

"It's lunchtime," O'Malley says. "I thought you might want something to eat."

It's clear from the look Scully gives him that there is a long, long list of people she would rather have lunch with before she deigned to have lunch with Tad O'Malley. In fact, it might be approaching seven billion people long.

"I think what Agent Scully is trying to convey is that we've got to decline your invitation," Mulder says.

"You believe me," O'Malley says to Mulder with certainty.

Mulder looks at Scully. She looks back at him, her eyes tight just at the corners. "I might have, back in the day. My doctor says paranoia is bad for me."

O'Malley sits back, disappointed. Scully's shoulders loosen. She glances at him and there's something between approval and gratitude in her eyes. He smiles at her.

There's a pinging noise. Scully checks her email on her phone. Her brow creases. She scrolls through something, then flicks back to the top and reads through it again. "This is strange."

"What?" Mulder leans over.

"Sveta, the lab retested your samples. A new tech was running the machines, and a number of test results were compromised. In fact, they retested your samples twice to be sure. Your DNA shows no anomalies." Scully looks up. "Whatever's been done to you, it had nothing to do with this project."

"Nothing?" Sveta and O'Malley ask at the same time.

"That can't be right," O'Malley says. "Retest her."

"I don't want to be tested again," Sveta says.

"You're my evidence," O'Malley tells her angrily. "You have to."

"She doesn't have to do anything," Scully tells him. "She's under our protection now."

"We'll see about that," O'Malley says. He presses a button. The driver pulls over. He opens the door. "Goodbye, agents. Goodbye, Sveta."

"What will you do?" Sveta asks him as she climbs out of the car.

"I'll do what I do," O'Malley says. "I'll tell the truth."

The car door slams shut.

Truth Squad with Tad O'Malley the next day is a runaway hit: high ratings, viral content, memes, gifs, and a media uproar. "I promised you the truth today, but that truth has come under assault," O'Malley says, looking into the camera, and they roll footage of Sveta confessing to reporters, accusing him of telling lies.

"I am so sorry if I misled anyone," she says tearfully, wringing her hands in front of her.

"They get her?" Mulder asks.

"She should be safe," Scully tells him. "They'll work on relocating her."

"Material witness?" Mulder asks. "That's a bit of a stretch."

"It won't be by the time all of this is over," Scully says grimly. "I went to the hospital to collect the samples and had our labs run them again."

"And?" Mulder says.

"Sveta and I share a lot," Scully says. "Including anomalous genetic material."

"O'Malley must be furious," Mulder says, propping his hands on his hips as he thinks.

"Rumor is they're going to pull the plug," Scully says. "No more truth, no more Squad."

"To his followers, that'll feel like a sign," Mulder says. "A shot fired across their bows."

Scully shrugs. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Either we embolden a liar, or we enrage his base."

"Politics have never been our strong suit," Mulder says. "You know, there's something called the Venus Syndrome."

"The plant, the planet, or something else I'm afraid to ask about?" Scully asks.

"The planet," Mulder says. "It's a runaway global warming scenario that leads us to the brink of the Sixth Extinction. Those with the means will prepare to move off the planet into space, which will have already been weaponized against the poor, huddled masses of humanity that haven't been exterminated by the über-violent fascist elites. If you believe in that kind of thing."

"Honestly, these days it sounds almost plausible," Scully tells him, leaning on one of the desks. Whoever has funded the untimely revival of the X-Files has been generous: they have two normal desks and four standing desks scattered around the office. It's much too flexible a workspace for two people.

Their phones go off almost in unison. They both reach for them.

"Skinner," Scully says.

"Skinner," Mulder confirms. He reads the message: Situation critical. Need to see you both ASAP.

They look at each other.

"Scully, are you ready for this?" Mulder asks.

"I don't know there's a choice," she says, but she sounds fierce and proud.

There are wheels turning somewhere. He can almost hear the gears of the world grinding. They won't get caught in the teeth this time, won't get torn apart. Whoever is behind everything they've been through will be exposed, finally and totally, brought to light. They'll have to open the wound to clean it out, but that's all right. They've finally learned how to heal. He opens the door for her and they stride toward the elevator together.

#xfiles fic #the x-files fic #xf alternate season 10 #xf revival fic #mulder x scully #my fic #atcwm verse

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