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knight-commander · 2 months

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OCKISS WEEK - DAY THREE

Siavash & Emery

this one definitely fits the prompt “rain” 😌 i originally had something else written for these too but after the post from @dujour13 yesterday I just had to do this. It got a little out of hand. Sorry :3c

If Siavash knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t answer the door.

That was Emery’s hope, because a part of him was terrified of what would happen if it did swing open and he had to look Sia in the eyes. Had he cut his hair? Changed his style? Would he smell the same? A few months could change an entire life, and he’d been gone for seven of them.

The rain hadn’t stopped for days, and Emery was soaked to the bone, because neither had he. He had pushed Mánath further than ever before to make it to Siavash’s door, and now that he was there, he couldn’t work up the nerve to walk up the steps.

What was a promise to wait? Was it worth anything? Doubts flitted across his mind, and then guilt swiftly followed. He shouldn’t be accusing Siavash of anything; he was the one who had left, after all. Even after being asked not to. He was the one who should be left out in the rain.

But Tiger was bundled in his arms, and so was a poorly salvaged bouquet of sodden flowers, and at least for their sakes, he had to give this a try. Emery squared his shoulders, the weight of his armor bearing down on him, and walked up the three stone steps.

The knock was gentler than he intended. Cowardly. He hoped Siavash didn’t hear it and so that he could chalk this up to a failed attempt that they could mutually walk away from, and he could just turn around and spare Sia the—

The door swung open.

Bleary-eyed Siavash stood there, rubbing idly at his face as he held the door ajar. A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder caused Tiger to leap from Emery’s arms, rushing inside to warmth before either of them had a chance to react. Sheepishly, Emery looked back up at Siavash.

Gods, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that even after seven months, Siavash was just as beautiful as he remembered. Sleepy, confused, and wearing a mismatched shirt and pants from being disturbed, but beautiful all the same. His blond hair was tousled, his lips pursed into something near to a pout.

“Emery?” Sia’s voice was rough from sleep, but he could still hear that honey-smooth purr he’d fallen in love with. “What are you doing here?”

Panic began to set in again. “I-I know it’s the middle of the might, but I—“

“You’re soaking wet,” Siavash cut him off. Emery stuttered over the rest of his sentence as Sia wrapped him in some coat he kept hanging by the door and dragged him inside. Emery was pretty sure the coat was worth more than he was, but he didn’t say that out loud, either. “And you’re freezing. We need to get you out of your armor.”

“It’s only some rain,” Emery protested, but the warmth of Siavash’s home left him shivering in comparison to the cold and wet he had dragged in from outside.

It wasn’t long before Siavash had Emery sitting warm and dry by the fire, dressed in some loose cotton clothes and wrapped up in the fluffiest blanket that the bard could find. He gratefully accepted the cup of tea that was offered to him—lavender and chamomile, his favorite—and found himself pleasantly surprised when Siavash settled in next to him on the floor, comfortable as if no time had passed at all.

Emery couldn’t resist pressing up against Siavash in return.

“Now,” Sia broke the silence, carefully, in a tone Emery knew meant that he was about to test the waters. “You know I love to see you, Emery, but it is the middle of the night.”

“I am aware,” Emery said between nervous sips of his tea. “I hadn’t intended to intrude upon your sleep in this way. I just rode straight from Cheliax, and I didn’t think I would hit the storm, or that it would be so late, and—“

“Emery.” Siavash brushed his hand across his cheek, and he raised his head to meet Sia’s eyes. “You weren’t due to be on leave for another three months. You said that in your last letter.”

Tell him the truth! Tell him you were wrong!

Emery parsed his tongue across his lips and glanced away. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that all?”

“…No,” he sighed, shoulders heaving with the effort. Although he tilted his cheek into Sia’s touch, he closed his eyes rather than look him in the eyes again. “I… I left. I took them up on the honorable discharge they’d offered at the end of the Crusade, stayed to sort out the paperwork, and left as soon as it was official.”

Emery could feel Siavash’s thumb brush gently across his cheek, but fear kept his eyes shut.

“You… did?” Siavash asked. “When it was first offered, you were adamant that you wanted to stay with the Order of the Pyre.”

Emery made sure he turned his face away from Siavash before he opened his eyes; he stared ponderously into the fire instead. When he raised his hand, he could see the years of accumulated burns from his Reckonings scarred all along his forearm. For the first time in a long time, there was no compulsion to hold himself aloft over the flames.

“I was wrong,” he said softly. “I was wrong, and you were right. I was going back to what was familiar because I was scared. Scared of… everything, I guess. Everything being all… different. I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”

Emery felt warm arms shift around him and pull him close, and he was barely able to slide his cup onto the nearby table. He looked up to see Siavash beaming down at him, and it was so infectious and familiar and gods he missed it so much that he couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sia murmured. “I understand. And I’m just glad that you’re here—soaking wet at my doorstep or otherwise.”

“You’re not funny,” Emery said through a mirthful chuckle. “Poor Tiger was more wet than I was.” The cat in question had curled up in the plush chair nearby, purring louder than the thunder outside.

“But you didn’t see you,” Siavash countered, flicking Emery’s chin up with a gentle tap of his finger. He leaned in. “Hair all stuck to your face, eyes all wide. You looked like a drowned rat.”

“You think you’re charming?” Emery asked softly, closing the distance between them. Tea forgotten on the table with the sodden flowers, he braced his hand against Siavash’s chest as their lips met. Sia was as warm and sweet as he remembered, and his reciprocation was delicate, as if he might scare Emery off.

Siavash’s touch traced down his arm before clasping his free hand, and he was the one to pull away from the kiss first. Emery could’ve gotten lost in his eyes if it weren’t for the furrow of his brow.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Siavash asked.

“If you’ll have me,” Emery said. “I know it’s not the proper way, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. I thought the flowers might endear you to the thought of letting me stay, at least just for one—“ He found himself cut off as Siavash raised his hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“I missed you,” Siavash said. “And your smile.”

Emery could feel his heart pounding uselessly against his ribs, could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, combating the dark circles under his eyes. He looked away, still grinning.

He remembered the first time Siavash had kissed him like that—it felt like a lifetime ago in those distant stables. Emery still harbored the same hopes deep inside, and Sia’s eyes still harbored that same addictive adoration that would make anyone’s insides jump.

“I missed you, too. More than anything else,” he said. “I don’t know what is in store for me now. Now that I’m not… knight-commander, now that my father is dead. Whatever it is, though, I want it to be with you.”

Suddenly his world spun, and Emery found himself on his back, cushioned between Siavash and the soft blanket underneath him. He laughed, watching the dark mirth of Sia’s eyes reflect the firelight.

“What are you doing, hm?” He asked, but Sia’s teasing kisses upon his hand and down his scarred wrist didn’t stop.

Siavash paused in his kisses just long enough to answer.

“Making up for lost time. No better time to start than now.”

“Won’t we have plenty of time for that?” Emery asked, but his voice softened with a sigh. Siavash pressed kiss after kiss down to his elbow before switching to the other arm, granting it the same treatment.

He wasn’t sure when his shirt came off or when one of his hands got tangled in the silken strands of Siavash’s hair, but Emery keened softly when Sia’s lips found their way to add a warm kiss atop the scar that split down the center of his chest. A final Reckoning, of sorts. His tangled hand tightened into a fist, and he heard Siavash’s hearty laugh echo in the space between their warm bodies.

Siavash lifted his head up just enough to peer at him; cast against the golden firelight, Emery knew he had made the right choice. No pyre could ever come close to being so beautiful.

He didn’t know what the morning would bring. As Siavash pressed their lips together once more, it was the first time that Emery felt peace with plunging into the unknown. As long as he had Sia there by his side, he could face anything.

#these two make me insane lol. sorry that it got so long #it was not intentional my muse held me hostage all night #anyways yes I think Emery could be fixed by whimsy #as Ama said:#‘Siavash is fixing so many men he should be part of a construction crew’#so true bestie. I did want to imply that Sia gave Emery room to fix himself however #anyways these two are so cute. and tumblr ate my original queued post so I’m posting now #pwotr pals #oc: emery #oc: siavash #ockiss24 #oc kiss week

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rogueshadeaux · 1 month

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Chapter Thirty-Four — Vengeance

My heart was hammering away in my chest, and I was hoping, praying that this was a bad dream somehow. A classic nightmare, where no matter how fast I tried to run, the monster would always catch up. Maybe I'd be lucky enough to wake back up in the van.

6.8k words | Godspeed soldier | TRIGGER WARNING: monsters [imaged below, sorry], injury, blood, guns.

We both turned and stumbled, more out of shock than fear; the little curled up bodies of the crab-guys in the other testing chambers were stirring, shaking off the permafrost as if the wailing of the Ravager was their alarm clock. The floor shook hard as the Ravager broke through the ground just under the glass, a blast of cold air attacking our ankles. “Dad!” I screamed, stumbling over my feet a bit as the vibrations threw me off. Brent caught me by the back of my shirt and yanked me straight, pushing me forward as his skin turned silver, steel overtaking his body.

Dad stood at the end of the hall, trying to look past us at whatever was making that noise as we ran as fast as we could. The Ravager was faster, though; it hooked its claws under the glass and yanked, making the tempered glass shatter like it was nothing. It seemed like nothing, compared to the creature — I guess it just needed to find the right angle. I looked forward again to Dad, who caught me in his arms when I ran close enough to look me over, checking me for injuries. “What happened?” he demanded, looking between Brent and I. Zeke was beside him in an instant, storing the centuries-old phone away as everyone’s newer models came up to illuminate the hall just in time to catch the gleam of the Ravagers’ shell as it ran left, shoulder checking the glass of one of the other testing chambers and shattering it with the hit.

“It’s releasing them,” Brent realized, looking over at me, scared.

Zeke huffed, almost surprised. “Those are Bertrand’s swamp monsters,” he said, looking at Dad. “We need to go, now!”

Dad’s hand gripped my back and he pushed me forward, the softness of them quickly becoming violent pokes as he pulled concrete out.

But I didn’t wince. I didn’t care about anything except getting out of there.

Garbled, monstrous screams bounced off of the pristine walls again and again until I swear, my ears were bleeding with the sound. Zeke was surprisingly fast for his age and stature, vaulting over an overturned desk as he led the charge to the exit, Brent and I hot on his tail with Dad close behind as we flew through the damaged entrance to the lab, leaving behind every crash and scream. There was another sound layered on top of that, a compound, stacking bricks sort of sound, and I glanced back to see Dad stopped by the entrance, trying to seal it up with concrete. Brent skidded to a stop beside me, pointing his phone’s light back and catching the glowing glint of the crab-like swamp monsters’ eyes as they galloped towards the gap, Dad barely sealing it in time. He took a tentative few steps back as the creatures' muffled screeches of protest bled through the man-made rock, asking, “Do you think that’ll hold them back?”

Zeke, behind us, shook his head. “It won’t be enough,” he said, so surely that all Dad could do was turn and motion at us to get going.

“Is there any way to kill them?” Dad asked.

Zeke nodded. “Two: hit them with UV rays, or with enough force.”

We dashed down the hall, passing the rounded doors for every other experimental laboratory that we had planned on looking through. “What about the other rooms?” I huffed, trying to keep up with the men as I ran. God, I needed to work cardio back into my life.

“That doesn’t matter!” Dad insisted. There was a horrible grinding sound, and then crumbling as the concrete wall welded into the open doorway began to crack, gaps making the screams of the creatures behind it all the more clearer. “Shit,” Dad growled.

But I wasn't known for my luck, as of late. Especially not right now, as a portion of the concrete wall fell away and a swamp monster forced itself through the gap, blundering for us as the others tried to follow.

It used its front claws to launch itself forward, rushing towards Dad and catching a slab of concrete to the face just before we entered the atrium of the underground base. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get to the elevator shaft!” Brent shouted.

Zeke stopped in place, turning to wave Dad forward as he turned away from the swamp monster he just chucked concrete at. “Go with them, I’ll be right behind you,” he said, pulling a gun from some hidden holster in his jeans. With a click, a little flashlight on it turned on, illuminating the path to shoot.

Dad nodded, running to catch up with us and moving to grab me by the elbow, Brent just a few steps ahead as we dashed down the crescent shaped stairs. I didn’t dare turn to look at what was happening behind me; there were more monstrous screams now, and a few gunshots before the entire earth seemed to shake. The rumbling got stronger until fissures began cracking the floor between Dad and I, the concrete crumbling apart.

“Jean—” Dad tried to warn me. Didn’t matter; we were both suddenly thrown in either direction as something crawled through the floor, tripping Brent as well. I rolled, my arm twinging in pain as the cast cracked against the ground. Thank God whatever Dr. Sims made it of was strong enough to not break. My phone flew off somewhere in the distance, the bleak light from its flashlight disappearing in the kicked up rubble. That giant creature, the Ravager, burst out of the ground, shatterings of concrete and moist dirt and soil flying away as it clawed its way to the surface, blocking the way to the elevator shaft and immediately eyeing Brent who was three feet away and on his ass. It opened its mouth to hiss, the entirety of what wasn’t shell emitting a bioluminescent glow as it began to trample towards him.

Brent was all steel, sure, but I wasn’t sure that was a good thing when the Ravager could shred through concrete like it was playdough. Its clubbed front legs straightened to reveal blades as sharp as a stinger for claws as it reared back on hind legs, prepared to pierce Brent where he sat splayed on the ground. My arms were out before I even fully registered the thought, water spiraling down their shape and out towards the monster, combining in their dance into a spray with the strength of a fireman’s hose. Not that it did much to the creature; it didn’t go flying back like Augustine did when I used this move on her, but it did make the upper half of the creature’s body snap back, throwing off its strike and giving Brent enough time to burst into a halo of steel and fly off on the wings they created when they rewelded back to his body. My stream stopped in time to allow the Ravager to be hit with three of Zeke’s bullets, the man shouting over the deafening ringing of gunfire, “Behind us!”

The swamp monsters were now barreling to meet their ringleader, six of them storming into the atrium and immediately honing in on Zeke, who turned to empty his clip out into them. Brent landed from the skies and was letting the wings melt away into his hands, creating two spears that he immediately threw at the creatures.

My eyes scanned the floor for the one thing that would help with this fight — my phone. There was next to no lighting in the atrium save for the weak emergency lights, and while Dad had the benefit of his concrete powers glowing and Zeke’s weapon light was bouncing around the area enough for Brent to see a little of what he was doing, I wasn’t so lucky. I was nearly blind in this fight, barely able to tell concrete from creature.

But there, a few yards away, laid my phone, lilac phone case blackened by dirt and rock. I ran towards it without hesitation, scooping it up and looking at the shattered screen in dismay. Goddamnit, this was a new phone! I hissed as my thumb caught the corner of a piece of glass, moving to try and pull the little piece out with my teeth when I heard “Jean!” behind me.

The Ravager’s six beady red eyes seemed to zero in on my form before it dropped a shoulder and charged, intending to mow me down like a linebacker.

I yelped, my heart dropping out of my chest as the Ravager thunder towards me — and I couldn’t think of anything better to do than to turn into water. I didn’t even move; my watered form stayed standing there until the Ravager cut through it and crashed into the wall behind me headfirst. The bits of me ripped apart by its impact stitched back together, and I was running away towards Dad before those parts of me regained skin, falling into his arms still wet enough to leave stains on his sleeves.

His hands came up to cup my face, and he turned it each way a little, flashlight shining down in one hand as he checked on me. “You okay?”

I nodded vigorously; I wasn’t hurt, but god, I was scared. “What do we do?” I asked, the panic in my voice making the words fly quick.

Dad looked around at the chaos before quickly pulling me around him, using himself to shield me. “Stay by me,” he said, tone fierce.

The Ravager had run into a wall, shaking its head and turned back around to look at Dad and I and hiss out a very loud and absolutely angry snarl, unphased. In fact, it didn’t look hurt at all; its hard shelling was strong enough to keep the wall from even giving it a bruise. It took a few tentative steps forward, gnashing its teeth and those horrifying pincers around it. There were a few more pop offs, and I glanced over to where Zeke and Brent were. They stood, backs to each other, one mowing down the creatures with bullets while the other used a longsword he still managed to swing around with one hand, the other haphazardly holding up his phone to light the way for the slashes.

Most of the swamp monsters were preoccupied with Brent and Zeke, but two looked over as the Ravager hissed again, turning to charge towards us. “Dad!” I warned, lifting my hand to let water overtake the cast on my arm.

I sprayed one in the face, intent on waterboarding the thing while Dad lifted his arms, concrete returning. It spun, faster and faster until the shards of cement were whistling as they rotated, and when he flexed they exploded from him, a fanned out row of rock hurtling towards the creatures and cutting them at the knees. One’s backwards knee cap snapped back until it ripped clean out of its socket like a shelled crab, leaving behind a sad bit of dangling tendon and a wailing creature that immediately teetered sideways. The other, the one I was hosing down, took the brunt of the hit to the chest, stumbling back. Blood came oozing out of its cracks…pure black, sticky and slick and tar-like.

Dad and I glanced at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. “Do you have anything that could hold a sample?” He asked, before raising his arm to send a shot of rock towards a creature that got too close to Brent. I shook my head.

To the left, the Ravager straightened, raising its upper body high as if it was presenting itself — but it didn’t move to charge. It wasn’t even looking at us. Its maw opened wide, the screeching now replaced by this gross gastric gurgling as it coughed once, twice, three times before shooting off glowing spitballs of phlegm towards Dad and I.

I raised my hands, pushing my water forward until it created a wall and catching the gross spitballs before they could splatter on us. Or, I caught most of them; some slipped through with their velocity and splattered beyond the wall, only slowed in their arcs. Three splashed on the ground in front of us, one so close to Dad’s shoe that he got the splashback from its impact — and he immediately cursed as the green-tinged phlegm began to burn pinprick holes in them, making him kick the shoe off as it worked past his sock and threatened to chew through his foot.

Oh, great. Acid reflux — literally.

I threw the wall of water back at the creature, letting it become a wave that smacked it in the face. Not that it reacted to that hit; it barely reacted to any of our hits. Nothing seemed to be able to cut into its exoskeleton — even the acid slipped away from it, turning the leathery skin at the joints raw but refusing to eat through the creature’s body otherwise.

The Ravager shook off the pain and growled, digging its feet into the ground to prepare to charge. Dad pushed me away. “Go to Brent,” he commanded. The concrete that was circling his arms paused in place and snapped to his skin, seeming to birth more rocks from it as they overtook his body, giving him his own hard shell. “You two get a sample of that…blood, and then we’ll all make a break for it,”

Dad folded in on himself until he was a ball of broken concrete, rolling away like some messed up Sonic the Hedgehog. His form jumped from the mass, the excess concrete piling under him to vault him forward, letting him land his encased hands directly into the Ravager’s chest. It was almost like I could feel the hit in my own chest as the sound of the impact vibrated through the air, the Ravager falling back. It reached out and grabbed Dad by one of his ankles as he tried to jump away, chucking him across the room until he hit a pristine white wall so hard it bent around his frame.

And as Dad slid down the wall unmoving, the Ravager’s eyes zeroed in on me once more, and it screamed.

“Shit,” I muttered, turning to run towards Brent.

The Ravager raked at the ground with surprising speed, burrowing under it like it was a foamy bath and not actual concrete as I dashed towards the pair of men fighting against the smaller monsters, praying Zeke wouldn’t stick a bullet between my eyes in the crossfire. Not that that fear was warranted; he was landing every shot with almost near precision, the only issue being that the swamp monsters’ skin was so leathery it took a few bullets to weaken the skin enough to let some brass pass through. There were still four standing, all giving Zeke and Brent a run for their money.

And I wasn’t in a good position to defend them.

It wasn’t even about healing — I couldn’t think of a good way to protect them both from the creatures using my water. They’d slice through any waves I’d make, and I didn’t have enough power to continuously spray them down without needing something to drain. And using my powers to look for a drain source proved fruitless; there was water flowing through the pipes behind the walls, but the biggest issue was they were behind the walls.

But I didn’t need to be the heavy hitter right now. I just needed to get Brent, get a sample, and get out.

So I brought my hands together and pushed, the powerful hose that came out knocking a swamp monster away and clearing the path for me to make eye contact with Brent, who was quick to pull me beside him. “Where’s Dad?” he asked, looking around.

I glanced back to where I last saw him to see him amid a pile of concrete rubble, shakily getting into a standing position — and to see the ground begin to crack again as the Ravager began burrowing its way closer to us. “Look out!” I called.

Brent pushed me back and watched the Ravager's burrowing, timing its breech as the steel around his arms grew wide. The moment its ugly little head popped out followed by its huge front arms, Brent shoved his arms out, creating a huge saw that spun so rapidly I could hear it whizzing. It zoomed towards the Ravager like a woodshop machine gone rogue and slammed into its chest, a webbing of fissures ripping through the exoskeleton.

He was strong enough to hurt it.

The Ravager shook the hit off with ease, though; it pulled itself out of the hole the rest of the way, slamming its hands against the ground before moving to return the favor to Brent, who dodged the hit.

“Dad said we need to get a sample of the thing’s blood and run!” I shouted over the noise of the Ravagers’ screaming, watching it in case I needed to humidify and dip. Zeke aimed for its back and lodged three bullets in the hard shell, the Ravager spinning in place to concentrate on him instead.

“Why the fuck would we do that?” Brent demanded, throwing a hand out to shoot another saw at the Ravager’s back, cracking the shell along its spine.

“It looks like tar!”

Brent glanced over at me, bewildered, before his eyes traveled over my shoulder and he shouted, “Behind you!” while roughly pulling me into him. His arm coming over my head and the shrapnel that shot off of it swiped painfully at my head, making me yelp.

“Don’t fucking scalp me!” I complained, watching the steel form into sharp curved boomerangs that spun before connecting with the swamp monster, slashing away at its body.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Brent demanded, glaring down at me as the creature stumbled back. His eyes shot everywhere, considering his next move “I’m gonna pin down the thing,” he told me as the swamp monster shook its head, trying to recover. Brent’s hand came up and some of the steel in it slivered away, coupling in his palm until it was a small vial with a screw top. He held it out for me to take. “Get that sample when I do.”

The Ravager screamed behind us both, taking our attention; Zeke was trying his best to stand against it, but he was a fly to a horse in a situation like this. Miniscule, barely bothersome, and at risk of being squashed. The Ravager swept a claw at Zeke and he barely rolled out of the way in time. There was a blur of rock and amber and Dad was suddenly behind us, hands sweeping out to let off this row of concrete shots that barely flew over Zeke’s head as he stayed down, knocking into the Ravagers’ knees and forcing it to fall flat on its face. “Go,” Dad commanded over the noise of its screams. “Get the sample and then get out of here.”

“But Dad—” Brent and I both began to object.

“Go!” He insisted louder.

He pushed Brent back, hard shell against firm steel, and that was enough to get us both moving. Brent zeroed in on the swamp monster when we turned, hands twitching as he decided on what to do. “Stay behind me,” he commanded, passing me his phone.

Brent balled up his fists and began to jog towards the swamp monster, who had righted and gave one long, chittering scream before rushing to meet him halfway. Steel was crawling down his arms again, welding to his knuckles before bubbling up to create studs along them, sharp dusters he used to uppercut the creature’s chin. Its head snapped back and he roughly pushed into its chest, making the swamp monster lose its balance on those weird arms it had. A shot of steel followed, slicing away at the grayed skin on its chest and sending a large splatter of that black blood everywhere, soaking us both as the hit tripped the swamp monster further. The moment its claws came up to try to stabilize itself, Brent finished by throwing out his hands, silver stripping away from the extra build on his arms and shooting out and stretching as they torpedoed towards the creature and wrapped around its wrists like snap bracelets. The monster fell back with the force and its shelled back cracked against the white cemented ground.

“Get it, now!” He yelled, keeping his hands extended as if holding the steel was the only thing keeping the swamp monster down.

I nodded, trying to keep energy in my feet as I ran towards the swamp monster. This was horrifying in a way, like approaching a shark with a bloody hand out to pet it; I was sure I was gonna be monster mash — and not the annoying Halloween song. But getting closer, close enough to look the swamp monster in its cataract-covered eyes, made me feel bad for it. There were parts of its face darker than others, and in the illumination of Brent’s phone flashlight, it took me too long to realize it had freckles splashed across its nose. Like I did. Something normal, something human, stayed with the transition to whatever this was.

This swamp monster was once an inactivated Conduit. This creature was once a normal person, damned to a life of whatever this was. Left forgotten underground for almost twenty-six years.

Even with its pincered face, I couldn’t look at it as I unscrewed the steel bottle Brent gave me, holding the lip of the vial close to its chest and waiting an annoyingly long amount of time for enough blood to drip into it.

Well, they’d have to take what little I got, because as I sat there, mere inches from the swamp monster, the cuffs on its wrists began to shift with its struggle, threatening to dislodge from the cement. Brent growled behind me with that same groan he’d make on the final reps of his exercises, straining to say, “Jean, move—”

Too little, too late, though.

I barely turned before I was being hit in the side, the same one with the barely healed slice, being thrown like I weighed nothing. I rolled a few times, my already-burning side lighting up even further as it hit the broken ground again and again, leaving me to writhe in pain. I could barely register the vibrating in the ground until the swamp monster was hovering over my form, gnashing its pincers as the black on its chest dripped down onto my abdomen. It screamed, bringing it's claws up and preparing to stab through me.

And hilariously, the only thing I could manage to think was Ah fuck, this is gonna hurt.

I could barely see the swamp monsters’ figure through the tears in my eyes, but my ears picked up on something as Brent yelled, “Heads up!”

I groggily turned my head, wishing I had enough wit about me to ask Brent what the hell he thought I could do in a position like this, but it didn’t matter — he wasn’t talking to me. His hand shot out and with it came ribbons of steel that parted from his arm like some weird Spider-Man webbing, shooting over me and distracting the swamp monster, making it stagger back. I watch the ribbons gather close and latch to each other, bending and twisting into a chain link that Dad caught, the end whipping around to lash the creature’s face and make it wail. He leapt between the swamp monster and I, concrete slithering down the chain and welding to the end like those medieval weapons, using it to beat on the creature until a blow to the head was enough to cause it to crumple in place, either dazed and damaged or dead.

Dad rushed over to me, forcing me to sit up as he demanded, “Are you okay?”

I coughed hard a few times as he pulled me to my feet. “Y–yeah,” I replied shakily.

Dad inspected my cast before seeing what was in my hand. “You got the sample?” he asked, eyes scanning. There were still three swamp monsters and the Ravager, who seemed to be trying to square off with Brent now. Dad threw a look over his shoulder. “The exit’s clear,” he realized, before looking at me with earnest eyes. “You need to go.”

“I can’t leave you guys—” I began to plead.

“We’ll be right behind you, okay?” He reassured me. “But you go while we have them distracted.”

“But—”

“Go!” Brent screamed, insisting. He was throwing sharp blade after sharp blade at the Ravager.

I looked between them, heart hammering in my chest; I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to even risk not being by their sides in case something happened. But realistically, what use was I here? The middle of my back was spasming in pain, and not just from rolling against the ground — I was running low on power supply. I needed to drain, and there was simply nothing to drain.

So, with the tears in my eyes more from fear than pain now, I nodded. “Okay,”

You’d think, when you get amazing superpowers, that you’d be able to stop just about any force that comes your way. I thought I would be able to, and was sure of it after the fight with Augustine. But water wasn’t the weapon to use against these things. To distract and maybe trip them up, sure. Defeat, though? I couldn’t think of a way to do it.

And I think that was the worst part of it all as I began to run towards the exit: that I was failing in keeping my family safe.

I turned forward and put all my strength into my running, feet beating against the floor and jumping where it was broken by the Ravager. The popping of the gunshots stopped, and I could hear another set of footsteps pounding after me, glancing back to see Zeke hauling ass. “Go, go, go!” he chanted at me, waving me forward as he vaulted over another fissure in the ground. I got to the entrance hallway just before Zeke, turning to watch Dad and Brent both try to tackle the two remaining swamp monsters and the Ravager on their own. Dad wrapped the chain twice around a swamp monster’s neck and pulled so tight it snapped the creature’s spine, Brent putting a clean shot of silver rebar through the chest of the other one. The last thing to contend with was the Ravager, who looked very ready to make itself their problem.

Zeke ran past me, moving to grab me by the elbow. “C’mon, we need to get you to—” he started.

“Not without them!” I insisted as the Ravager turned to face Dad again, spitting out more acid. Dad flinched and instinctively shielded his face with his hands, the acid that landed on them immediately beginning to eat away the skin. He howled out in pain, and Brent’s head snapped to look at Dad, not seeing the Ravager swing towards him its clubbed foot hit his chest, sending him sprawling back.

Brent flew back, Dad shaking his arms to try and get the acid off — and pulling the full attention of the Ravager. It screamed and moved to go after Dad, and my scream was only eclipsed by the loudest popping known to man, my ears immediately ringing in protest as Zeke shot a few bullets towards the Ravager, trying his best to give Dad a distraction to get away.

But he was too distracted to take it.

Brent dashed forward and shadowed Zeke, grabbing Dad by his elbow as he struggled to concentrate on anything but the pain in his forearms and yanking him along as he dodged the Ravagers’ downward slam of its fists. Brent pushed him forward, urging him to run before turning to face the Ravager fully.

“Brent!” I tried to scream over the Ravager’s own wail. That fucking idiot, what was he doing?!

Dad nearly stumbled over broken concrete in his haze, barely able to concentrate on anything as he fought through the pain in his arms. Zeke let me go and was gone in a flash, rushing to meet Dad halfway and help lead him towards the exit.

Meanwhile, the Ravager unfurled its clubbed claws to slash at Brent, who was too busy watching Dad be pulled away from the action to realize the move until it was too late to dodge. The claw raked across the back of his shoulder just as he went to turn, shredding the shirt and raking against his steel skin.

And with a horrible, teeth grinding scrape, the claw caught on some invisible part of his steel and sliced into him, revealing just how thin the skin was.

Red on silver was always a favorite composition of mine. How could you not love it? Almost any sort of red was accompanied by silver; Christmas trees, bedrooms. Dad even had a red guitar back in Chapman and the silver pickups and bridge were far better than the black pickguard, in my opinion. But watching blood slowly seep out of the slice in his steel, red ebbing the edges of the silver and sinking into his shirt, did nothing but fill me with dread. Brent cried out as he was thrown aside with the claw and I swear I could feel my soul slip away from my body as the Ravager hissed at him.

Zeke and Dad entered the hall just as I rushed to leave it, Zeke barely catching me in time as I passed him. “Where the hell you going, kid?” He asked me, holding onto my arm firmly.

“He’s hurt!” I retorted, glancing back to watch Dad stumble into the hall. He was hurt too, bad; I could almost hear the pops as acid ate away at his arm, becoming red in rash, tissue and blood.

Shit, they both were hurt.

Zeke didn’t let go of my arm, his grip surprisingly strong. “You go out there, you’re gonna give us a lot more trouble than we have now.”

I glared at him. “I’m not just gonna leave my brother out there!”

Zeke looked forward, blinking in surprise. “I don’t think he needs the backup,” he muttered.

Brent had righted and was now staring down the Ravager, who was standing on its knuckles and hissing at him as he stood between us and the monster. Neither moved, though — it was like they were in a standoff, waiting for someone to draw first.

And Brent was quicker.

The shine of his steel seemed to glow silver as it slowly peeled away from his body, leaving him in normal skin as it flittered like paper in the wind. I’d never seen his power move so slowly before, and while it was pretty and all, I wasn’t exactly happy seeing it happen while he was facing off with a creature from Resident Evil.

But it didn’t just pull away and flutter to the ground; it caught some invisible wind, picked up by the force and began to swirl around Brent’s feet as more steel flaked away from him, adding to the swarm.

Meanwhile, Zeke pulled me into the entrance, and motioned to Dad, immediately saying, “Rinse that acid off of him, it’ll help,” like he had experience with these burns. I guess, in all honesty, he probably did, considering he’d dealt with these creatures before. I coaxed Dad to sit down, trying to make eye contact with him and not exactly feeling good that his eyes were so glazed over that he couldn’t. Water began to pour down my arms, clearing out the gaping and angry red wounds that littered his arms in a spotted fashion.

Dad hissed, face pale, and I hummed. “I’m almost done,” I said, trapping the acid in bubbles and letting them float away back into the atrium and to the side, away from everyone else.

Zeke was standing guard, looking into the atrium and muttering, “What on earth is that kid doin’?”

I glanced over at Brent, surprised to see him now surrounded by this spinning spiral of shrapnel, a stairwell of jagged razors from over his head down to his feet, swirling like a shield around him. Steel was crawling up his back like some stiff symbiote, building on his arms in a kite-shaped bend that let the long triangular ends lay on each other like scales, the tips flared out to make him the world’s most dangerous armadillo. The Ravager moved to swipe at Brent and its clawed hand instead met bladed steel, slicing off the tip. Brent’s arms pushed out like he was trying to shove something away, and the sharp blades around Brent suddenly went from a rotating shield to lying flat, ends spinning as they coupled up like the blades of a saw as they flew outward from him in all directions.

Including ours.

“Delsin!” Zeke shouted, gun lowering. Dad looked to the side, eyes barely widening through the pain as he registered the claw-shaped metal spinning in circles as it flew towards us. His hand shakily raised and with a pained gasp, concrete digging up from the injuries in his arm and reminding me way too much about the pain I had felt when Augustine made those a nice feature of my leg.

A short concrete wall came up almost immediately, the three of us having to duck behind its jagged edge to avoid the slivers of steel that thudded against it only seconds after. The sharp end to one cut through the concrete and threatened to stab Zeke in the knee, missing by centimeters.

Beyond the barrier, the Ravager screamed like it was in pain and I peeked over it to see the monster stumble back as razors of steel embedded in its chest — but it wasn’t enough to stop it. Brent wasn’t ready to stop either, though; those reinforced arms came to cross his chest before swinging out diagonally, the kites on his forearms flying off with the throw and folding in on themselves until they became dart shaped. They spun like discharged bullets, each at least a good three feet long as they rushed towards the Ravager and pierced its shell, forcing it to stumble back. He threw his arms again and again, dart after dart shooting away and impaling the creature as it wailed, flinching away like a wounded animal. I guess it technically was.

Brent was unrelenting; the reinforcements on his arms slithered to his back and he was gone in a flash of silver, soaring towards the domed, tall ceiling. He reached the summit of his flight and seemed to hover there in space, barely perceivable to us on the ground in the dark. His silver caught the shine of an emergency light just as the wings ripped away from him, the panels shifting around his form as he came back down to earth. The panels around him gathered close, shreds of steel coming from nowhere to build on them until he was surrounded by giant misshapen spikes, metaled fist in its center and directing the missile drop straight on the Ravager.

The impact was so violent that the entire room shook, dust being knocked off of places that hadn’t seen a human’s touch in years. That horrible sound of scraping metal coupled over until it was more comfortable for me to press my cast against my ears in an effort to stifle the screech, bruising the side of my head with the push. We were lucky nothing collapsed with the shaking, and I was sure the wedding party above ground was feeling it too. There was more kicked up rubble where Brent and the Ravager had disappeared, a cloud of debris spreading wide and fast, leaving us to cough and wave it from our face as we tried to look through it for Brent’s form.

“D’you see him?” Dad asked me weakly, twinging with each cough.

I squinted, the cloud of dust slowly dissipating to reveal a pile of black and red in the center of a crater, the Ravager skewered a dozen different ways by steel, dead. In front of it, Brent was breathing hard as he stood shakily, trying to take a step forward and barely managing two before falling to his knees.

Zeke waved me forward and I was running for Brent, meeting him where he stayed on the ground and trying my best to pull him back up — ‘trying’ being the key word, as he was heavier than anything I could lift. But I could help prop him up as we staggered back towards the exit. “C’mon,” I huffed, trying to help him find his footing as he used my shoulder as a crutch. “Let’s get outta here,”

Dr. Sims pulled away from Dad. “There. Hopefully it’ll be fully healed in a few days,”

Dad was laying on the couch, wincing with every movement as he tried to get comfortable. I was sitting on the floor by his head with my hands in his hair, speeding up its drying process from his emergency shower by absorbing the water so the throbbing in my back would stop. That didn’t matter though. What mattered was that Dad looked like he was in so much pain. I hated it.

Dad looked over at me as Dr. Sims rose from his crouch, walking off with the remains of whatever was in Zeke’s first aid kit. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked me.

Why was he worrying about me? He was the one with bone visible in some spots. “I’m fine,” I said, trying to smile.

“No pain in your shoulders or anything? Promise?”

I shook my head, ignoring how the motion made my back twinge. “Promise,” I lied. He didn’t need to worry about me right now.

Brent stepped into the room, toweling away at his wet hair. His bruises were already that sickly yellow they get right before disappearing, road rash from the concrete cleared. I was a bit scratched up at the knuckles and my elbow was raw, but it was all minor stuff.

Better than what Dad was experiencing.

“How many other messed up creatures do you think they had in there?” Brent asked, moving one of the chairs at the small table to sit in. Dr. Sims was in the other one, reading away at the notes we stole from the First Sons’ base.

Zeke was in the kitchen, finishing up with cleaning out his gun. “I can tell you, for a fact, those weren’t the only monsters he could make. Who knows what else was down there.”

Dad huffed. “Probably a lot more information that could have helped us,”

“We have enough,” Dr. Sims tried to say in a positive voice. For the first time, though, I could hear his voice waver. “We at least know now that there’s powers that can corrupt Conduits, to varying degrees.”

Dad sat up a bit, wincing. “Yeah, and none of them are like what Jean’s experiencing.”

Dr. Sims slowly put down the x-ray, biting his cheek. “I suppose, now with this information, I can tell you I may have a lead that could help us.”

Dad slowly turned his head to regard Dr. Sims fully. “You what?” he asked slowly.

“There was someone I found while doing that conducrinopathy study, for the old DUP soldiers,” Dr. Sims began, before holding up a finger. “Well, no — Sia found them. A Conduit, a Prime Conduit, whose powers are turning against them.”

Dad glared up at Dr. Sims. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before everything?”

“I’m not in the habit of breaking doctor-patient confidentiality, Delsin,” Dr. Sims said back just as cooly, crossing his arms. “But that’s…what Sia emailed me about. She’s the patient’s power of attorney, and she’s giving me permission to evaluate them. And the person I sent the sample to? She’s got some results, and she wants to talk to us. She wants us to bring along Jean too for an evaluation.”

Dad looked unsure, throwing me a glance before regarding his friend again. “‘Bring along Jean?’” he repeated. “Where?”

Dr. Sims sighed. “Boston.”

#infamous erosion #infamous second son #infamous #infamous 2 #delsin rowe #fanfic #fanfiction #Zeke Dunbar #Ravager Posting ig lol #Hated this asshole honestly. The hive lord version is worse tho #sucker punch productions #Aunt Sia Time!!! ....in a month...#and perhaps...other OCs have been teased 👀#get out of tags Gab you're killing the vibe

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