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youareunbearable · 2 years

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I might not do anything with this BUT I've been thinking about the Shadow of Mordor games again and how FUN would it be if Sauron did that but instead of bringing back Celebrimbor he uses his necromancy magic to bring back Maedhros

An imposingly tall figure, all done up in Sauron's spikey black armor, instead of his mace there is a wicked black blade where a right hand should be. He roams at the front of the Nazgul, blade at the ready as the other holds the reigns to a monstrous horse

People are terrified, thinking that Sauron himself is roaming the wilds, he stalks the Fellowship, nothing seems to stop him only delay him. Gandalf isn't sure its Sauron himself, but something about him under all that twisted and dark and evil song sings pure, like a dull flicker of white flame, like a weak candle.

When Boromir dies, that figure is with the orcs, it isnt the one to slay Boromir, but turns away and it seems to know where the ring is. The orcs are too focused on Merry and Pipin to follow the Figure, but he walks off. He stands on the shores as Frodo and Sam shiver in the Swan boat, but it does nothing but watch them as they sail off. It makes no motion to follow them or attack their small boat, just watch transfixed. Sam makes a comment that it looks like the Figure's armor makes it almost like it has a metal collar around its neck and cuffs on its wrists

During the battle of Helm's Deep, that Figure is back again, silently leading the siege. At one point, an Elven arrow hits the Figure's helm, knocking it a little loose and from under the helm tumbles a single red lock of hair. Its so red that almost looks like a smoldering flame. Haldir, who lives with the survivors of Doriath, sees that red hair, that tall stature, the handless right wrist and pales. While he wasn't there to witness the destruction of Doriath, he has heard the tales, he knows about the red haired monster that haunts the memories of the Sindar, and he knows what that Figure is capable of. Luckily, that Figure manages to catch a glimpse of Aragorn, and Freezes once again, a single stone that cuts through the rushing current of orcs all around him. Haldir doesn't see it again, but then again, Haldir doesn't see much of anything again.

(The Figure sees Gandalf on the hill, arriving with the dawn and reinforcments and it grieves, something in it breaks all over again but the magic puppeting its moves doesn't allow it to dwell. The helm is readjusted and the hair is tucked away and the Figure turns and leaves the battlefield. Its being summonded somewhere else.)

The war rages on, the Witch King is dead, but so is King Theoden. The Figure is trapped, the right wrist is pinned under the corpse of an oliphant and Elrond's sons watch as the Figure struggles before lying still. It's clearly not dead, but realizing it's trapped.

Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli join the twins. Gimli offers to thrust his axe in its chest, Legolas insists that he can shoot through its eye from a safer distance. Aragorn, who heard Haldir's frantic pleas during his final moments, just observes the Figure.

He notices the strange collar, how it clearly has cuffs on its wrist and feet, like it used to be shackled and chained.

"Can you speak?" He asks it.

The Figure does nothing but turn its helm towards Aragorn. They stare at each other for a few tense moments.

One of the twins, Aragorn still isn't fully sure which one, approches the Figure slowly. The Figure's helm is still directed at Aragorn.

"It feels familiar." The one twin whispers, voice raw from exertion. "It has a fea, it feels warm."

"Like uncle Erestor. Or Lindir." The other twin agrees.

The Figure turns its helm towards the twins at the mention of Erestor. The twin closest to the Figure, quick as an adder, jabs a polearm at the Figure's helm.

It snaps back, the helm tumbling off the Figure's head and those smoldering red locks fan out around the head, obscuring the face from view.

Even without seeing the face it's clearly an Elf. An abused one at that if one just looks at the notches missing from it's pointed ears. The polearm is back, nudging under where a chin should be to lift the face.

First, all that is seen is scars. So many that pull the once handsome face, for even under all its marring one can tell from the bone structure that this was a face that could launch a thousand ships, into a grotesque manner. But it is the eyes, the eyes that makes everyone suck in a breath.

These eyes glow, they glow with power, with light never been seen before, or well, haven't been seen in Ages. These grey eyes glow with the reflected light of the Two Trees, long since felled.

"Oh, Maitimo," Gandalf, who had wandered up the the group, sighed with tremendous sorrow. "What has become of you?"

Maitimo, or Maedhros as those in the Third Age know him as, tries to speak. His lips move, which brings attention to the fact that they are loosely sewn together with a black cord that seems to pull and ooze blood, never letting the wounds heal. His voice croaks, dry with misuse, but he manages a sound, a breath, perphaps even a word. Each syllable like a dying wheeze. He repeats the sound, again and again, almost becoming frantic with his wheezing chants, blood spilling down his chin from the threads, until it's understandable.

"Necromancer."

#amber rambles #silmarillion #maedhros #maitimo #silm fic #Iotr #I personally think it would be Fun and Seasonal if Mae becomes a zombie puppet for Sauron #like I already think that because of the Oath and because of his time with Morgoth and Sauron he wouldnt be able to die or hear Mandos Call #And I think Sauron would be a petty bitch enough to bring back Mae as a fun little HaHa Deal With THIS Emotional Trauma Elrond U Ass #I couldnt decide if I wanted Mae to deal with Aragorn and the fellowship or with frodo and sam but I figured if hes being puppeted #he would go after aragorn HOWEVER a fun little alternative i have #is that he goes after frodo and sam and they end up in Shelobs cave and Mae is gonna kill the hobbits but the Liquid Starlight #snaps some of his Sauron Mind Control off and activates his Omg Oath!! brain and he fights Shelob off the hobbits to grab it #and he knows he cant grab the vial cause hes Literally a figure of evil now but he just sits there and stares at it #and Little Sam goes up to him slowly and asks #If you want that vial i can help you but you must not hurt Mr Frodo anymore do you promise?#And Mae nods his head. promising.#so Sam cuts off a corner of his cloak and wraps the vial in it and hands it over to Mae who just hold the cloth bundle and begins to shake #he sobs. big wheezes and moans that cant make it past his sewn lips but he tries and Sam runs off to save Frodo while he does that #Then once gollum tosses himself and the ring into the lava and the world is crumbling around them Mae appears in the cave opening #to scoop up the tired hobbits and carry them to safety not caring about lava chasing after them. He collapses once the eagels come #Sam tries to get them to take Mae as well. But they dont and he screams and Mae just takes off his helm and smiles #He holds up the wrapped vial in his hand and with his bladed hand he cuts through the threads on his lips and shouts up to the sky #Thank You! A New Dawn Shall Rise!! and the eagles fly higher and farther and sam cant see it but he knows the lava swallowed him up #and a new dawn does rise. It rises on a new Age with a new king and a wedding and painful goodbyes and a new beginning

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randomwriteronline · 1 month

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"Pohatu!"

Huh.

Lewa sounds... Worried?

Something must have happened. Hopefully it wasn't a Makuta attack. It'd be weird if neither Krika nor Pohatu were there to fight with their siblings - although the Toa have no reason to believe their brother of Stone has any business with the Brotherhood beyond knocking their masks into the bog water with a roundhouse kick, so really there's nothing to worry about. If he mentions he met a Makuta they'll likely assume he simply came across one and was briefly busied with not being pummelled into protodermis hummus against the nearest tree.

He touches down bouncing once, twice, to slow his momentum before he comes too close to that coward's trap; his Le-brother lunges for him to wrap his arms tight around his neck in a nearly suffocating hug.

His own limbs encircle the other's back in a lukewarm embrace, half stunned, half puzzled.

Alright. Something has happened.

The question now is, frustratingly: what, exactly?

"Where have you been?" Onua, for once, is quicker than him and gets to ask first. He sounds almost... distraught.

Pohatu turns to him with the unpleasant feeling of being in the dark about something squirming familiarly around his heartlight: "Swamp?" he replies a little dumbly pointing behind himself. "There aren't that many places to be down here, I met a big bugger-"

"All these years?" Gali continues. She is not talking about the swamp. She is worried, heartbreakingly worried, just as much as her brothers. "What happened to you? Where were you?"

Kopaka says nothing, but he looks at him. His eyes seem guilty.

Pohatu looks back at him in earnest confusion.

"The Codrex," Tahu visibly struggles as he searches for the correct string of words in his choked up throat for a moment, torn between reaching out with his hand and holding back.

The fog clears instantly.

"You weren't in the Codrex," he tries. "You weren't with--"

Pohatu shoves Lewa off of himself with a stiff thoughtless movement: "Ah," he says. "Good."

The other five blank.

Something shifts in the world around them and tilts it all askew, paints the air with a strange imperceptible color that makes their heads light, their footing unstable, their eyes unfocused. Their Stone brother is the same - his silhouette has been changed by the adaptive armor but he looks the same, they recognize him, they know him, right? He is still their sibling, he is still the same, the exact same, in his usual body with his usual gaze and his usual voice, but then why - why does this Toa look nothing like him?

Tahu flinches when his shoulder is grasped.

"Do you remember the energy storm?" Pohatu asks, sounding the exact same and yet completely, impossibly, horribly different.

"What?"

"Do you remember the energy storm?"

"Pohatu, I - you - where, how did you-?"

"The energy storm, do you remember it?"

"You weren't with us, all this time- how did you get to-"

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!"

They recoil.

Pohatu doesn't shout like that. Pohatu doesn't speak like that, quick and far too straight to the point. Pohatu doesn't grind his fingers that hard into what little of a shoulder a piece of armor might expose. Pohatu doesn't stare that harshly. Pohatu isn't that furious.

"The energy storm!" he insists, snarling - Pohatu doesn't snarl - "Do you remember that!"

"Yes," Tahu spits out.

"Good!" and his tendons hurts when they are released.

Pohatu doesn't stand like that. Pohatu doesn't look at his siblings like that - with a growling scowl so sour it almost makes their stomachs twist. Pohatu doesn't look like Takanuva does since a shadow leech bit him, he doesn't look like the Shadow Matoran, he just looks like himself; but Pohatu doesn't act like that.

He gives them all a quick glance, looking for confirmation on their faces beyond the stunned concern. The storm's mention and his cold eyes seem to do the trick as he catches small affirmations.

"Call it a feeling or a hunch or what you will, but something tells me there's going be another one coming down soon," he tells them with that voice that is his own yet doesn't sound like him - to them, at least, because they had yet to hear this facet of it which he's allowed to stew silently with the rest of his bitter fury. "And it'll turn Karda Nui into a nice big open air common grave, if you five keep sitting around this chunk of metal waiting for our little siblings to get fried out of the air like Nui-Rama."

The information takes a moment to sink in.

He watches their eyes widen, understanding dawning within them. They know now as they knew then what an energy storm is, what it means, the destruction it brings.

They begin speaking, they ask him how he knows - he answers harshly, flippantly, relishing in how they wince back as if stung or bitten each time he responds to their kind tones with hisses and growls that are so deeply wrong to their audio receptors - they start planning, and he retains no information whatsoever of whatever Tahu starts prattling about (a strategy, of course, because he is the leader, and a leader makes strategies and plans escapes and runs away when the ship begins sinking) because he sees his foot shift, he sees his hand beckon the rest of them towards him, he sees him make his way toward the inside of the Codrex, and white hot rage bursts out of him in a shout that he can't hear himself.

He can only tell he's shouted because his body is tense as it leanse forward, his lungs are empty, and his disgustingly spineless siblings are shaken and terrified as they turn to him.

He's not letting them escape on their own this time.

"None of you will be doing anything until we get the Matoran out of here!" he roars again. "Especially getting into that thing!"

"It could hold answers - helpful tools," Onua speaks in his warm enveloping tone. A hand reaches out for him, to soothe him, to try and calm him, return him to his normal self--

He's swatted away sharply, so hard that his wrist hurts.

His brother glares venomously: "It doesn't," he decides snapping back at him, "You're just trying to escape again, aren't you?"

"Again?"

"Don't play dumb with me! You said you remembered!"

"But it wasn't--"

"We're doing it my way this time! And you'll better comply or upon the name of the Great Spirit I swear I'll crack that infernal machine open like a Pokawi egg if you try to set a single foot in it!"

"Pohatu!"

He has no idea who is speaking: the voices and masks and colors melt together, his head spins, the heat of his anger turns his thoughts into a tangled mess that starts wrapping tight around his lungs to squeeze every breath of air out of him; so he flies away, diving briefly into the swamp, terribly close to the water, before rising back up along one of the trees, towards the stalactites.

(Somewhere far away a chunk of stalagmite blows up, scaring the wits out of Bitil. As his heartlight flashes madly the Makuta curses the Toa of Stone under his breath.)

Someone calls for him.

He ignores them and continues flying.

He's so furious that he nearly crashes through the branches.

A sense of nausea builds up in his throat like vomit.

The voice reaches him, shouting his name almost right in his audio receptor: his arm is grasped, wrenched up, his body unbalanced and turned upside down. He twists in the air aimlessly for a few seconds before he manages to stabilize himself again and regain his bearings enough to search for whoever jumped him.

Gali floats slightly above him, her eyes disbelieving and hard behind her mask: "What is happening?" she demands to know.

Pohatu glares at her. Then, out of nowhere, his brows unfurrow, his face softens, he breaks into his easygoing smile: "Nothing," he blatantly lies with his playful tone and no intention of masking his rage nor his sarcasm behind it, "Nothing ever happens. Didn't you know that, sister? This afternoon we're going to have a tea party with the Makuta and wait for the energy storm to decide the air is a bit too brisk to come down this week, and then tomorrow we'll all attend a nice Kohlii match the Av-Matoran are setting up with the Piraka as the referees."

"Stop it!" she shouts. His little show unsettles her immensely, and the fact only makes him glad. "What's happening to you?"

He laughs: "Nothing, I told you," and he does a little loop to keep from shattering a fallen stalactite in half, "Nothing ever happens to me! Why would anything happen to me?"

It scares her even more. "I said stop it! You're not like this!"

Oh, he isn't?

He isn't like this?

If she knew. If only she knew.

She would hate him as much as he hates her again.

"What's wrong with you, brother?" she cries. She really does sound like she's going to sob. "What happened to you? What is making you act like this?"

Oh, but didn't she say she remembered?

Didn't they say they remembered?

Liars. Liars. Liars. The bile surges back to cover his eyes, to coat his mouth with its horrid taste. He can barely breathe.

"Nothing!"

"It can't be 'nothing'!"

"I said, it's nothing!"

"Pohatu, please!"

He thinks of driving his hand right through her heartlight.

Gali watches her brother stutter, suddenly frightened by something she cannot see nor hear not imagine, she watches him lose height for only a moment in which he seems to plummet into the bog below: before she can fly down to his rescue he spins up again, twirling away from her. She follows his trajectory until he lands, heavy and tired, on a sturdy enough branch.

He hears her touch down a few steps away from him much more gracefully. Keeping his eyes shut at least spares him from having to look at her.

He is a Toa. He has a code to follow. Even when it's hard.

Even when it would make it all so much simpler.

Even when it would be so deserved.

But he is a Toa.

Not a Bohrok.

Not a Rahkshi.

A Toa.

And he doesn't want to kill.

"Pohatu," she calls again, so gentle, so sweet. Her hand sits on his shoulder, pulls away slightly when he flinches at the contact, lays once more with an even lighter weight. "Brother, I'm begging you. Speak to me. Share what hurts you."

You know exactly what it is, sister.

All of you do, and you pretend otherwise.

You left me. You planned your escape and went through with it.

You left me to do the work of six Toa alone because you were too scared of dying like the Matoran you didn't care for.

It was your plan from the beginning, wasn't it? It must have been. Otherwise it makes no sense. I was never part of your escape either, was I now. Because I was never as good as any of you.

You left me. You left me, and you planned to leave me. You didn't tell me anything. You didn't care if I would have looked for you while I was dying. You didn't care if our little brothers would have called for you. You left us all to die and you planned for it. From the start.

You disgust me. You left me. You left me. You left me.

"I'm worried," he says, because that too is true.

Gali's arms embrace him kindly, pushing his head to lay on her shoulder. He'll let her believe the shiver that courses through him is out of a need for comfort instead of repulsion.

"We'll get them all to safety," she whispers. Her tone is soft, almost lulling him to sleep.

"When?" he asks. He feels so tired. "Is there even enough time?"

"There will be," his sister reassures him as her hand cradles his nape. "I promise they'll all be on their way to Metru Nui before the storm can start forming. We'll make sure of that. Me, our brothers, and you. United, it won't take long."

It wouldn't have taken long back then either, he thinks, but the bite in his thoughts is too weak to voice them. He is so tired. So exhausted from his anger. Gali is so comfortable. So kind.

It's a trick.

It's all a trick.

He has to remember that.

Anger helps him remember that.

His siblings hate him.

It's all a trick.

Just a trick.

The stuttering sound of a pair of rockets approching them has his sister turn slightly. Her grasp on him loosens, and he pries himself away from her hold despite some traitorous speck of his mind begging to be allowed to lean on her. It's a trick, he chastises it as he finally opens his eyes to see who's coming: just another dirty trick.

Lewa touches down almost next to them, jittery and anxious. He looks at Pohatu with a certain fear behind the goggles of his mask.

His brother replies to his frightened gaze with silence.

He and Gali speak - of what, Pohatu can't tell. He's so tired. When at last he forces himself to be mentally present to the conversation, it seems they have reached an agreement.

"I will reassure our brothers, then," she says. "We'll be there to help you before you know it."

"Heartthanks, Watersister," Lewa nods relieved.

They watch her disappear downwards again. So it seems they will be handling the first few evacuations on their own, and then the others will join them.

It's good to see they have a bigger sense of duty than they used to.

Or at least, that his rage scares them more than death.

Fingers grab him before he can lift off, in an unsteady grip: "Pohatu," his brother calls with a trembling voice.

When he turns to finally face him fully, Lewa looks at him no different than he did when he first arrived on the branch: frightened, concerned, jittering. He grasps his forearm with both hands, like he's afraid he'll slip away from him.

"We need to go," Pohatu tells him simply. He is so tired.

"You," his brother begins softly, but it takes him another moment to word his thoughts properly: "You... How... Are you?"

"Tired."

"Are there - offvoices, like the mindkraana, in--"

"I am just tired. Let's go."

He winces hard at the harsh words, but he holds onto him still: "Stonebrother - you were... You weren't with us. In..."

"I wasn't. Let's go."

"Wait - wait, please..."

He sighs. He feels so tired. So tired. Why is he so tired.

"If you weren't... If you..." Lewa struggles. He is deeply worried. For him. "Where... What... Happened, to you? During all this time?"

His legs ache and twitch to kick him off this blasted branch. His body screams at him to knee the Air Toa in the torso hard enough to cave his armor into his lungs.

But the building bitterness hemorrhaging from his every joint after he allowed his tightly compressed rage to blow out of him is eroding his strength the more poisonous it becomes instead of fueling him as it has so diligently done for the past one hundred thousand years, and he is so tired.

"Now isn't the time to talk about this," he snaps.

"But it will be?" his brother insists.

He is so, so, so tired.

"Later." he concedes. "Once all this is done."

"Heartpromise?"

Somehow, he manages to fake a convincing smile: "Heartpromise."

Lewa smiles back at him, heartlight a little lighter.

They lift off together.

#bionicle #pohatu #gali #lewa #onua #tahu #kopaka #random writing #orpiment au #(dancing a merry little dance) pohatu is FUCKING PISSED #i hope the progression of his anger and its intensity through the chapters feels natural #and i hope it comes across that the way he handles it (keeping it hidden and then releasing it explosively) is so strong and unhealthy #that it actively physically makes him sick. which is why he is so tired by the end #in all of this the nuva have no idea what is happening to their brother and are honestly afraid for him #theres so many ways to get mind controlled in the matoran universe - whos to say somebody took hold of pohatu and turned him against them?#they want to help him so very earnestly and hes so stuck in the narrative hes spun where they hate him and he hates them #i am beating the shit out of all of them with hammers

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quickhacked · 11 months

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Chapter >> 16 [x] Characters >> Matvey Dobrynin (oc), Nadya Dobrynina (oc), Vincent Mayer (oc), Vitali Dobrynin (oc) Total >> 8.1k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, arguing, blood, death, descriptions of drowning, gore, injuries, smoking (/+ relapse), transphobia (one implied instance of deadnaming in part 1, some instances of misgendering in part 3), violence

Vitali could not open his eyes.

He wanted to, of course he did; surrounded by screams and cries for help and gunfire and people running around, running right into him and shoving him aside but catching him before he could fall- yet he found himself unable to, eyelids heavy and eyelashes stuck to his skin with a dried up substance he had not yet been able to identify.

Every step he set forward hurt, painful jabs shooting up his spine to his neck; though a searing pain in his left forearm drew his attention more than anything else, warm liquid trickling down his skin and dripping on the floor from his fingertips.

He was dreaming.

He knew he was; he often did, yet remained unable to do anything about it or to control whatever was happening around him. Simply a passenger in his own body, though still more aware than he would sometimes be when fully awake- it almost felt like mockery, in a way.

Vitali reached for his face, bloodied fingers clawing at the dried up blood covering his face and keeping his eyes shut tight- nails tearing open skin and drawing even more of it, dark red tears heavy on his cheeks as they stained his pale visage.

The screaming surrounding him became louder, and louder- as well as the ringing in his right ear, drowning out the noises behind him and wrapping around him like a safe and warm blanket fresh out of a basket of dried laundry. Though it made him feel the exact opposite; and he kept scratching, and scratching, and scratching-

And he opened his eyes.

‘Vitali?’

The hallway was quiet and dark, the flashlight of Vitali’s phone only slightly illuminating the path in front of him toward his bedroom door- but his attention was fixed on the other end of the hallway, where his father stood motionless, cold eyes staring at him from behind his reading glasses.

‘Party lasted a little longer than I had thought,’ Vitali quietly said, almost as a reflex; an instinctive answer, as he watched Matvey slowly walk closer to him and Vitali expected him to reach out, pluck that half smoked cigarette out of his hair for him-

But instead his father grabbed his wrist and lifted it up and when Vitali looked down his arm was a deep crimson color, drenched in his own blood as his skin peeled away revealing bright red flesh and exposed bone.

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound left his throat as his vision faded, Matvey disappearing into nothing but his grip on Vitali’s wrist leaving a burning imprint on his skin. It felt like he was falling; tumbling backwards into the void of his own nightmare, heart pounding in his chest and breathing panicked and shallow while he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to wake up-

‘How dare you show your face here again!’

Nadya’s voice cut through the silence surrounding him and suddenly Vitali felt solid ground under his feet once more. He opened his eyes; found himself back in that poorly lit hallway in that Megabuilding, his mother standing right in front of him- shorter than him, far below his eye level, yet towering over him at the very same time.

‘You’re not welcome here anymore,’ she spat, adding a name to her statement; a name Vitali had not heard in a long time yet one that cut deeper than any knife could ever cut, one that hurt more than any pain he had ever had to endure in his entire life.

All the things he wanted to say to her; yet no words left his lips as he watched her turn around and walk back into her apartment- no, it was his childhood home now, the apartment on the pier of Wellsprings, right next to where he lived nowadays- and Ravager was there too, mangled, two dead eyes staring straight ahead and a gaping hole in his forehead, a grin far too wide to be natural decorating the lower half of his face-

Vitali’s body was locked in place. He could not even turn his head away or close his eyes when his mother fell into the corpse’s arms and kissed him and-

He was falling again.

He could hear rushing water around him; and before he could even finish that thought he fell into an ice cold river, the current instantly pulling him down by his legs and he could only just suck in a deep breath before his head was entirely submerged.

He was unable to tell what was up and what was down, his body being wildly flung around in the water and hitting rocks and pieces of wood and whatever else got in his way. He could barely see anything- only flashes of light and darkness spinning in circles around him, spots dancing in front of his eyes as the oxygen in his lungs steadily began to run out-

His arm got caught between something. But the stream did not stop dragging him along.

And before Vitali knew it his arm was no longer attached to his torso and the deep blue water around him colored red as he opened his mouth to scream, to cry out in pain yet the pain did not come- and instead his mouth filled with water and so did his windpipe and his lungs-

He knew what dying felt like.

Vitali bolted up, the cool air of his bedroom like tiny needles in his throat as he gasped for breath and instinctively moved his hand to his neck. His shaking fingertips collided with burning hot and sweaty skin; and even the lightest of pressure hurt, despite the time that had passed the dark bruising Ravager’s hands had left still fresh and painful with every touch.

Tears blurred his vision and he lowered his hand again, the initial pain in his neck now burning through his shoulder down to his forearm. Tightly wrapped in bandages; though the pressure was not enough to distract from the searing and stinging sensation the gaping wound had left him with.

He slowly moved closer to the edge of the bed, shaking hand reaching for the glass of water and bottle of painkillers on his nightstand. One, two- surely three wouldn’t kill him, just this once- quickly swallowed them all, washed them down with the lukewarm water from last night.

It was daytime. Vincent was no longer there in bed with him, and the curtains were already partially open. Though it did not do much; heavy rain and thunder plagued Night City, leaving Vitali’s bedroom mostly in the dark despite it already being close to noon.

His gaze lingered on the window as he sat in complete silence, hands resting on his lap as he tried to catch his breath- and with every second that passed, the pain in his body slowly faded away, until he was left with just the feeling of his own heartbeat in the place where his mantis blade used to be.

For a brief moment, he had truly believed he was going to die.

Again- His heart stopping like it had done before, but permanently this time- getting choked to death by Ravager with none of his friends there to save him, just like they had been unable to save him before.

Vitali’s hand subconsciously moved to his neck again, rolling thunder in the distance briefly drowning out the ringing in his ears. The swelling was mostly gone by then; though he still had trouble breathing, the inside of his throat raw and every inhale and exhale like a weight being pressed down onto his chest.

His father had saved him.

It made sense, in a way, Vitali supposed. Matvey had made it clear his intention was not to kill his son; he simply wanted to take everything from Vitali like he believed Vitali had done to him. And for that, he needed him alive.

Yet something about it did not feel right.

But Vitali was unable to put his finger on what.

He slowly rose to his feet, leaving his hearing aid on his nightstand and using the wall as support as he walked and slowly made his way to the hallway of his penthouse, and then the living room. Some lights were on- one in the kitchen, one above the coffee table- yet the room was empty, Mikhail at work to keep business going with Cato, and Vincent presumably in the bathroom.

Vitali was craving something.

He was hungry- yet not nearly hungry enough to walk into the kitchen and make himself some breakfast. His hands were restless; fingers fumbling as he tucked the edge of his t-shirt into his sweatpants, pulled it out again, and tucked it back in.

More distant thunder echoed through the dark skies of Night City as Vitali wandered over to the entrance of his penthouse’s balcony and he picked up his cigarette case and lighter from the cabinet beside it. He rarely smoked anymore; not as if it mattered at all, since the stuff inside was fake anyway.

Though lately he had reached for his case a lot more often than before, and the usual cravings- keeping his hands busy for a while, subconsciously regulating his breathing with the act- were not as easily satisfied as in the way they used to.

As if he was missing something now.

I won’t let it get to that.

A somewhat ironic thought, as Vitali opened the balcony door, flicked out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the tasteless smoke and exhaling through his nose. He had said the same about his alcohol intake at some point in time- and he had not been able to keep his word for that, either.

‘Thought I heard something.’

The corners of Vitali’s mouth curled up in a light smile upon hearing Vincent’s voice faintly behind him and he leaned sideways against the doorway, free hand instinctively reaching out- and Vincent took his hand in both his own, giving it a soft squeeze as he walked closer.

For many years, Vitali had been alone.

It had never done him any good; despite his longing for some solitude for most of his childhood, fed up with his family and wanting nothing more than to get away from them for good and to have a place he could call his own.

But once he had gotten exactly what he had wanted, those four decrepit walls of that poor excuse of an apartment in the Glen had been unable to keep him company throughout most of his early years as an adult. And when he had moved after finally making a comfortable living at Arasaka, the luxurious home he had found himself in had been about as empty as the gaping hole the absence of family and friends had left in his chest.

Vitali clenched his jaw as he took another drag from his cigarette, sharp exhale leaving his chest while Vincent leaned against him with a soft sigh, thumb gently running over the back of Vitali’s cold, lightly shaking hand.

Even the penthouse he lived in now had once been too big and too empty for just him alone. A busy day at his office followed by a quiet and lonely night, right next to the building he had grown up in; a balcony that overlooked the ocean, its vast deepness stretching as far as the eye could see.

Vitali had often stood there, where he stood now; smoking a cigarette, staring at the ocean and listening to the sounds of the city below, feeling the cool wind in his hair and on his skin. He would stand there and wonder- wonder what else was there for him, wonder if he could ever get the comfort he used to have when he’d been younger back.

And he had, eventually.

He had found it again with Vincent, and now he no longer slept alone- and with Mikhail living with them too it would only be on rare occasions he would find himself all by himself at home. Even if he was, he still had their cats Nibbles and Sapphire to keep him company, to make him feel at ease.

Though in that moment, even with Vincent’s arms loosely wrapped around his waist and his breath hot in his neck, Vitali was more on edge than he had been in a very long time.

‘Lot of static in the air today,’ Vincent suddenly hummed, pressing a soft kiss on Vitali’s shoulder. ‘Pretty high up- might wanna close the door.’

‘You’re right- sorry.’ A pang of shame tightened Vitali’s chest and he quickly extinguished the barely smoked cigarette, tossing it in the ashtray on the table of the balcony before stepping back inside and closing the door. ‘Did not think that through.’

‘No worries. Your head’s elsewhere, I understand.’

Vitali could barely look his boyfriend in the eyes as he turned toward him, allowing Vincent to gently brush some of his hair out of his face. It was a little damp, still- his feverish night had left him sweating, and he had not yet taken a moment to clean himself up.

He was bracing himself.

Tension lingered in the air around them though not merely because of the thunder clouds hanging over town; Vitali knew Vincent was holding something back, recognizing his little mannerisms and nervous tics and knowing exactly what would come next.

‘When are we going to talk about it?’

There it is.

Vitali closed his eyes and leaned in to Vincent’s touch, fingertips tingling on his skin as they dragged down his temple to his cheek. A situation all too familiar to him; a conversation between him and Mikhail at the very start of that year, a much needed talk yet neither of them had been ready for it in the slightest-

He couldn’t do it again.

‘There is not much to talk about,’ he promptly replied, opening his eyes again and straightening his back. He opened his mouth to say something else- perhaps to try and elaborate further, or to change the subject- yet no sound left his lips, words escaping him the second he noticed Vincent clenching his jaw and lightly shaking his head in response.

Vitali was not necessarily a conflict-avoidant man. Plenty of proof for it to be found in his past- and especially now as a fixer it was more than often a necessary means to an end, and he knew very well it was of no use to continue to try and squeeze around the elephant in the room.

Whenever things needed to be talked about, he was more than willing to talk about it; knowing exactly what would happen were things to be left unsaid, what would happen if he would let it all pile up and explode at the wrong place and time with the wrong person on the receiving end.

But Vitali was exhausted.

Just like he had been with Mikhail. They had never fought before, ever, in all their years of knowing each other- and it had not needed to turn into a fight yet it still had, and it still haunted Vitali to that very day.

‘Somethin’ needs to happen,’ Vincent quietly said, fingers fumbling with the collar of Vitali’s t-shirt, eyes staring straight ahead yet just past Vitali’s face. ‘I feel like we’re just stuck now. What are we waiting for?’

Oh, how Vitali wished Vincent would stop talking.

He didn’t even know the answer to the question. What was he waiting for? He couldn’t even recall how much time had passed exactly since the death of- hell, Vitali could not even remember the man’s name- and he had no idea what Matvey had been doing in the meantime, either.

‘He won’t come to his senses.’ Vincent briefly paused and bit his lower lip, lightly shaking his head again as he lowered his gaze. ‘You’ve given him time, Vito- every fuckin’ opportunity to take a step back, to stop doing this-’

‘He saved my life.’

The words had left Vitali’s lips before he could stop himself.

No turning back now- Vincent looked back up at him, a somewhat questioning look on his face, mouth still half open as he had stopped mid-sentence. Vitali clenched his jaw, heartbeat picking up in his chest as he shrugged and spoke again.

‘He spared me.’

‘Are you sure?’

That didn’t land well.

Vitali sharply inhaled through his nose and froze in place, heart dropping in his chest as Vincent’s words settled in his head.

His mind instantly wandered back to that day- as much as he had tried to push it all as far back as possible, as much as he had tried to ignore it- and the vivid memories of Matvey’s gun aimed at his head, of the weight of Ravager’s corpse on top of him, of the ringing in his ears from the gunshot that had echoed through the room when Matvey had pulled the trigger-

Yet suddenly Vitali was not sure anymore.

‘What?’

A coldness to his voice he could not stop from spilling from his lips as he spoke, as much as he tried to. And Vincent clearly noticed- nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he straightened his back a little bit and quickly pulled his hands away from Vitali’s clothes.

‘You were- I dunno, I just… You were bleeding out, and it could’ve easily been just-’

‘He was there, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Vitali knew.

His mind easily played tricks on him. And what Vincent said, made perfect sense to him.

Yet his words had sounded just a little too familiar to Vitali’s liking- unintentionally so, he assumed- similar to how his mother used to question everything Vitali would say to the point he would forget about entire situations that had happened only minutes ago merely because of Nadya's doubt.

He could already barely trust his own mind now that Arasaka had toyed with it. The last thing he needed was someone else making it worse.

‘I saw him,’ he finally spoke, a flash of lightning outside causing the lamp above the coffee table to briefly flicker. ‘He was- Please don’t- Don’t say things like that.’

‘Sorry.’

They could barely look at each other, now.

The storm had picked up outside, rain slamming itself into the windows of the penthouse and the wind howling almost loud enough for Vitali to be unable to hear what Vincent was saying.

They’d had their disagreements before. Vincent was bold enough to speak up if he believed something had to be said- about anything, from their personal lives to everything related to their respective jobs. Both of them a little stubborn, both of them a little prideful- but both of them also mature enough to own up for their mistakes, and realize when they were in the wrong.

This was different.

‘Look,’ Vincent suddenly started again, a bit more volume to his voice now that it was no longer as quiet in the room as before. ‘All I’m sayin’ is that the longer we let him and his mercs run free-’

‘That is the whole point,’ Vitali cut him off- gently, or, at least, as gentle as he could. ‘His mercenaries are all still there. They might work for him, but they’re out for my blood either way because they feel like I betrayed them! What’s the point of killing him specifically right now?’

He was grasping at straws, mostly. Trying to buy himself some time- trying to come up with a better answer for Vincent that would be satisfying enough so they could move on from it, at least for the time being. They could continue the conversation at a later point in time, come up with a plan when Vitali no longer felt like someone was hammering his brain black and blue-

But he knew the more he spoke, the further he would dig his own grave.

‘We’ll deal with ‘em in time,’ Vincent responded, and he now took a slight step to the side to be able to catch Vitali’s gaze again.

‘Look- I know this is difficult for you, but your father is the root of the problem. We’ve established this- he’s not showing any change- and I think we’ve waited long enough now.’

‘Why not just deal with mercs, then?’ Vitali fired back.

‘We’ve been doing that! There’s so many of them and he keeps sending more.’ Vincent licked his lips and vaguely gestured outside. ‘Your father has resources, Vito! He’s got connections, he’s got corporations in his pocket- We kill his mercs, how long before he’s got a bunch of new gonkheads workin’ for him?’

‘So we take his resources away. Cut his contacts, let him-’

‘Oh, the same thing he’s doing to you right now? The same thing he’s currently failing so fantastically at? That’s your suggestion?’

‘What else do you want me to fucking say?’

Vitali’s heart was beating high in his chest and he was starting to become light-headed. He watched as Vincent scoffed and took a few steps away from him, shrugging again and throwing his hands up in exasperation.

And Vitali understood. He knew what it looked like from anyone else’s perspective- why the fuck was he even protecting his father, after everything that had happened?

But he couldn’t do it.

He hadn’t been able to, even when he’d had the chance.

‘So much fucking time has passed by now,’ Vincent said, his voice low and his eyes unfocused, and filled with tears. ‘So much fucking time- and nothing’s changed!’

‘He isn’t out to kill me-’ Vitali started, Vincent was not done.

‘He’s not-? Not yet, no! And everyone else is expendable to him!’ He sucked in a deep, shaky breath and wildly gestured around the room. ‘How long before he’s gonna kill someone else-’

‘We are not going to kill my father and that’s an order!’

Vitali’s voice echoed through the room, like thunder booming through the desolate streets of the city down below. It startled him a little- and it startled Vincent as well, his shoulders tensing up and a shaky exhale leaving his lips the second it happened.

Silence washed over the penthouse as the rain outside settled down, sky slowly clearing up and a single ray of sunlight brightly illuminating the space between the two men near the balcony door. Realization hit the both of them at once; and while Vitali’s chest tightened and a knot took shape in his throat, Vincent simply relaxed, dropping his arms past his body as another scoff left his mouth.

‘Right.’ He stepped back, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes wandered off into the rest of the living room and he did a mocking salute in Vitali’s direction. ‘Yessir.’

‘Vincent-’ Vitali pleaded, stepping forward and-

‘V, please.’

The sharp edge to his words cut deep into Vitali’s skin and he closed his eyes, heart shattering into a million pieces and for a second- just for a brief second- he wondered if he was still asleep, still trapped in that feverish nightmare, still trying desperately to wake up-

But when he opened his eyes he was still in the same position as before and Vincent still could not look at him, a single tear rolling down his cheek when he spoke again.

‘Just V.’

You did this to yourself, Vitali.

Unable to just keep his stubborn mouth shut, unable to ask if they could talk about it some other time. Wanting things to be resolved immediately- and making it worse with every word he said instead, unintentional perhaps, but it was far too late to try and take anything back now.

Vitali stood in complete silence as he watched V wander away from him further until he reached the stairs and dropped himself down on top of the second-to-last step, elbows resting on his knees and hands in his hair.

He had not meant to say the things he’d said- well, mainly the last words that had left his lips. Out of character, even for him as a fixer; Vitali had never been one to mindlessly order people around, even back at Arasaka it had set him apart from his colleagues.

God, why had he said that?

Vitali’s hands were fumbling with his t-shirt again, restless as they had been when he had entered the room. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and leaned back against the window, gaze fixed on the ceiling high above his head, jaw clenched and attention focused on anything but V’s unstable breathing.

Tell him you’re sorry. Fucking say something- anything.

‘I couldn’t do it,’ Vitali suddenly heard himself say.

He blinked a few times, a desperate attempt to drag himself back to reality, to get himself back into his body- and when he did, V’s attention was on him again, though he did not move from his position on the stairs nor could he hold Vitali’s gaze.

‘I had him,’ he continued, and slowly pushed himself away from the window again as he made a pistol with his fingers and held it out in front of him, closing one eye as he pretended to fire it at the wall.

‘I had him, V. Lined up in my sights. His gun was not aimed at either of us- I could have pulled the trigger. It would’ve been done.’

A wry smile spread on Vitali’s face and he lowered his hand again, the smile fading as the knot in his stomach tightened and the memories flooded back into his brain.

‘I just couldn’t do it.’

Something had stopped him. Memories- of another lifetime, it had felt like- memories of himself and Matvey in that dark hallway of their home, just the two of them and nobody else. It had happened so many times; and not a single time had he been angry with Vitali.

It had always bothered him a little bit. Something about those moments was different.

But Vitali was unable to put his finger on what.

‘I don’t care what you think of me, or what anyone else thinks,’ he finally continued, straightening his back and running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. ‘I don’t care what you would have done in my situation- I cannot kill my father and I will not let any of you do it either.’

It wouldn’t solve anything.

Neither would doing nothing- and he knew that. He knew that very well.

But deep within, at his core, Vitali Dobrynin was not a killer, and he did not have it in him to be responsible for the end of his father’s life.

Vitali slowly turned away to look outside, the sky clear now that the storm had passed. It felt wrong, somehow; the bright sun a stark contrast to the uneasy feeling that had settled deep within his chest and stomach and caused the hairs on his arms to stand up straight. Out of the corner of his eye he could still see the threatening clouds in the distance, moving over Pacifica toward the Badlands.

‘I’m sorry, V,’ he quietly said, his gaze finding the merc’s reflection in the window. ‘I know this is not what you want to hear. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to let it get to this. I’m sorry.’

His apology wouldn’t set it right, nor would it change anything. But he meant it.

He meant it so deeply.

Vitali watched in complete silence as V finally moved- slowly rose to his feet and sucked in a deep breath, adjusted his clothes a bit- then walked a little closer to him, though hesitantly, and he stopped a lot earlier than Vitali wanted him to.

‘I’m sorry, too,’ he quietly said while Vitali turned around to face him again, and he crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest. ‘It’s just- becoming a bit too much, I think.’

Months had gone by.

Months of uncertainty, months of fear; they’d had their moments of peace, but Matvey’s presence had continued to loom over them every passing day, casting a dark shadow over Vitali- and over everyone who got too close to him.

Of course he understood V’s frustration. Of course he understood his mercenaries were starting to doubt him, and of course he understood why the Council no longer trusted him either.

And perhaps if he had been just a little bit less in control of himself- if he had been just a little less certain of who he was, and what he believed in-

Perhaps he would have already given up by then.

After all, it did make sense to him. Arasaka had toyed with his mind- he could’ve easily made his father up. Could’ve easily done it all himself, in his convenient absence each and every time tragedy would strike.

It would have been a genius plan, Vitali had to admit- well within his capabilities too, he could have pulled it off.

But that was not who he was. He would never do something like that.

Vitali clenched his jaw and took a hesitant step in V’s direction, reaching out a hand with a questioning look on his face; but V merely held his arms tightly crossed and averted his gaze in response.

‘Had it been anyone else-’ Vitali quietly said, lowering his arm and letting it dangle past his side.

‘I know,’ V quickly replied, ‘I know. It’s your father.’

Family was complicated.

All of them had hesitated, in a way- Daniil reconsidering Vitali’s cry for help, Roksana giving in to his request to stay out of it, Nadya tiptoeing around the inevitable conversation that had been about to ensue- but at the end of all things they had not chosen Vitali.

Daniil had left to be with his own family- his wife, a child on the way- and Roksana had left to be alone, away from all of them to build something up herself. And Nadya had stayed; but not for Vitali, and not for Matvey, but for Ravager of all people, and now with the cyborg dead and rotting in some NCPD morgue Vitali did not know what his mother would do.

But Matvey was different. Somehow.

He had killed Ravager. Had saved Vitali’s life. Had chosen to do so- and Vitali was unable to let it go.

‘Cato and Misha are trying to find his base of operations,’ he said, visibly startling V by accident with the sudden sound of his voice. ‘Once we find it, we take down his mercs, take his resources. And maybe-’

Vitali couldn’t finish his sentence.

‘I don’t know,’ he cut himself off, pushing the thought of pulling the trigger on his father out of his head. ‘I suppose I’m still hoping for something to happen.’

‘Guess only time will tell.’

Silence fell over the room and V finally relaxed, exhaustion washing over his figure as he bit the inside of his cheek again and looked at anything except for Vitali. And Vitali could not stop himself from trying again, reaching out a hesitant hand in hopes V would-

‘I- I need some space,’ V quietly said. ‘I’ll be in Misha’s room for a bit.’

Vitali found himself frozen in position, hand still mid-air and heart still racing in his chest. His initial reaction was a familiar one- it’s not fucking fair- but he doubted that was true, and wisely kept his mouth shut.

He and V had never once argued like they’d had just now, in the entire year they had been together- or since they had met, for that matter. And just like with Mikhail it did not feel right to stand there, in the very same room yet somehow with so much distance between them, the air around them still static and tense as if any other spoken word would cause another thunderstorm to roll in.

Vitali watched as V glanced in his direction then turned on his heels, hurried pace through the living room and back into the hallway leading to the bathroom and bedrooms.

‘I’m sorry,’ he quickly said, before V could vanish behind the wall. He stopped in his tracks, and visibly hesitated- yet did not turn around as he spoke one final time.

‘I know.’

And Vitali was alone in the room again.

The pressure that had been building up in his head now reached its peak, the echo of his heartbeat heavy and painful against his skull as if threatening to beat its way through. It spread downward, to just behind his eyes- but the tears wouldn’t come, eyes unfocused but dry and he simply did not have the energy in him to cry.

He slowly inhaled and turned back around, balling his shaky hand into a fist and placing his knuckles against the glass of the window. Oh, how satisfying it would feel to punch through it- feel the glass shatter underneath his touch, feel the shards stick into skin and flesh and leave bruises and blood behind.

It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t even make him feel better.

So instead Vitali straightened his back and carefully opened the door of his penthouse’s balcony again, closing his eyes when a soft and gentle breeze hit his skin and moved through his hair. He reached out for his case- flicked a cigarette out, put it between his lips- and despite the weight of his lighter in his hand feeling more like a burden than a relief this time, he lit it, the tasteless smoke not satisfying any of his needs but at least keeping him busy for some minutes.

A distraction was all he needed, sometimes.

The thunderstorm outside had picked up again.

Worse than earlier that afternoon; each flash of lightning was accompanied by at least two more, the booming thunder like explosions mere milliseconds afterwards echoing through the streets of Charter Hill.

An impressive display of weather- the pitch black sky illuminated by bolt after bolt, their crackled imprints in the clouds like cracks in dark marble. It wasn’t raining, now; and with the air still suffocatingly hot it made sense for a window to be open, despite the thunder effectively drowning out any other noise inside the tall office building.

A genius plan, really. Hiding in plain sight- just another corpo building like any other in the district- no one would bat an eye. And no one would come looking there either, as it had turned out; perhaps Vitali was expecting more secret hideouts, more decrepit old Arasaka facilities no longer in use by the corporation.

Oh, Vitali.

The spacious office was dark, barely any natural light pouring in from the windows and Matvey had not bothered to get up and turn on the ceiling lights either. He was sat at his desk- arms draped over the arm rests of his chair, cigarette dangling between his fingers- and stared straight ahead, mind completely elsewhere as he listened to the storm outside.

He was no longer the respectable man he used to be. Had barely found the energy that morning to make himself look presentable- and by then his hair was no longer neatly slicked back and instead fell in strands down his forehead, he had removed his tie and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, collar pulled to the side slightly revealing a deep-set scar his visit to the Arasaka event earlier that month had left him with.

He brought the cigarette to his lips, eyes fluttering shut the second another explosion of thunder shook all the windows of his office. The fumes made him nauseous; he had not smoked in years. Yet somehow he was already on his third that day.

Everything had changed, when Matvey Dobrynin lost his job.

He had lost his position in Arasaka; a position he’d fought so hard for, for years, a decent position that had finally provided him the respect and admiration he’d always thought he deserved. He’d lost his stable income, his healthcare benefits- his insurance too, and a large chunk of his savings.

But Matvey was a resourceful man. He’d had no doubt his opportunities would be plentiful even after his unfortunate departure from the corporation. Perhaps no longer on Arasaka grounds- perhaps Kang Tao would want to hire him, or Militech, considering his strong ties with them through Arasaka’s Finances Division- but that would have been alright with him, as long as he could restore some of his dignity he’d lost on the way down.

But Nadya had different plans.

Had it just been Matvey who had been fired, who knows what would have happened? He could still vividly remember his wife’s rage when she too had lost her job, and could still vividly remember how she had spent night after night after night in the living room trying to figure out what had happened, what had gone wrong, why they had been sent away.

He slowly raised his cigarette again, rolling it between his fingers as he stared at the lightly burning end of it, the ashes dropping down onto his desk. Barely smoked- but he still pressed it out in the ashtray sitting in front of him, watching the smoke dissipate in the stuffy air of his office.

Vitali’s fault, somehow. Nadya had always been quick to blame their son- though with a significant lack of respect for his identity- and Matvey had barely believed her at first.

But after doing some more digging in Arasaka’s archives together he had been left with no other choice.

Loud, rapid knocking on the door dragged Matvey out of his thoughts and he glanced up, inhaling deeply as he straightened his back and allowed his mercs access to his office with a “come in”, only just loud enough to be heard over the thunderstorm outside. A tall, bald man covered in faded Valentinos tattoos and his scrawny, cyborg friend- Sanders and Dusty, if he remembered correctly- entered; and from their faces Matvey could instantly tell something was wrong.

Of course he knew what was going on- his mercenaries were getting impatient. They wondered what they were waiting for; still loyal enough to wait for his signal but their inability to sit still and follow his exact orders was causing them to get nervous, and restless.

‘What’s the plan, boss?’ Sanders plainly asked, stopping in his tracks right before the desk, hand tapping on the side of his thigh. His pale eyes bore holes through Matvey’s forehead and his jaw appeared tightly clenched- holding back his words, his entire body language showing the fixer he was barely able to contain himself.

A quick assessment of the situation at hand- Matvey knew well enough it was necessary when dealing with unpredictable guns for hire and his keen eye for anything out of the ordinary had saved his ass several times before already. He slowly leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other; and in that very same movement he carefully drew a gun from a hidden compartment just below the tabletop of his desk, and rested it on his thigh with his finger ready beside the trigger.

‘We have discussed this before,’ he spoke, not batting an eye when Sanders scoffed and took a small step back, almost bumping into Dusty in the process. ‘You wait for my signal while I plan our next move. Make yourself useful in the armory, if you so please- go over our supplies, do a workout.’

So much had changed, since the beginning of it all- Matvey was not even sure anymore where it had gone wrong. Perhaps Nadya losing interest after her initial anger had pushed him to take action was what had caused everything to spiral; perhaps he himself had gone too far in his quest for revenge, somewhere along the way; or perhaps his mercenaries taking control over situations and wreaking havoc across town at a much larger scale than he had ever intended for was letting it all get out of hand, to the point he had to wonder for how much longer he would be able to control them at all.

And ever since the last time he saw Vitali- bloodied and beaten and nearly choked to death by Ravager, mantis blade ripped out of his arm- he was no longer sure what he was even doing it all for anymore.

So much time had passed, so many things had changed; it was hard to tell who had caused the chain of dominos to start falling in the first place.

‘What’s next? You gonna start makin’ us do your paperwork for you?’ Sanders suddenly asked, a faint smile lingering on his face but Matvey knew he was not playing around. The merc wandered closer again and rested his hands on the desk, leaning forward- a poor attempt at intimidation- and he slightly tilted his head, eyes narrowing when he noticed Matvey did not react.

‘It’s been days,’ he said. ‘Thought you said he’s injured- what’s the fuckin’ holdup? You wanna hit ‘im where it hurts, should’a struck a day or two ago. My people are gettin’ agitated- the boys are gonna pick up crocheting as a hobby at this rate!’

‘Your people?’ Matvey repeated, raising his eyebrows as he suddenly leaned forward and placed his forearms on his desk, revealing the gun in his hand- causing Sanders to jump back immediately, and Dusty to follow suit.

‘As far as I’m concerned I am still in charge here,’ he continued, running his finger over the side of the gun neatly placed on his desk, the barrel aimed directly at the merc stood in front of him. ‘I have made the terms of the contract you signed clear when you signed it; it is not up for negotiation and even if it was- this is no way to bring that up in a civilized conversation.’

‘You’re not gettin’ shit done,’ Sanders bluntly replied. ‘Thought we had a plan- thought we had a deal.’

‘And the deal is still on and you will get what you came to me for.’ Matvey paused, slightly tilting his head as he waited for the weight of his words to settle in Sanders’ pea of a brain. ‘Vitali will pay for what he did to you- to all of you. In time. Patience, Sanders.’

‘Runnin’ a little thin these days.’ Sanders licked his lips, and a grin spread on his face. ‘My boys say you’re goin’ soft.’

Do they now?

Matvey did not care what they thought of him. His mercs meant nothing in the bigger picture of things- nothing more than a bunch of disloyal cunts who abandoned Vitali the second he hadn't been there to change their diapers anymore.

Sure, right for the taking for Matvey- but who in their right mind would put their full trust in people willing to get up and walk away that easily?

‘Listen, Dobrynin,’ Sanders slowly said and walked closer again, about as close to the desk as he could physically get- no longer worried by the gun resting on top, perhaps overtaken by bravery, perhaps by mere foolishness.

‘I don’t know what happened last time you saw him, and frankly I don’t care. Maybe we failed this time- what’s the big deal? There’s several other events lined up- the fundraiser in a week, that gala you mentioned? Just kill another guy and blame it on ‘im, get it over with!’

‘If we strike too often we will raise suspicion and draw Arasaka’s attention toward us,’ Matvey calmly responded, but Sanders was already not listening anymore.

‘You’re just like him!’ he yelled and scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. ‘Always waiting. Just a bit longer- just to see what happens. And for fuckin’ what? Your fuckin’ piece of shit failure of a son took everything from us, he took everything from you, and you’re just lettin’ him get away with it? If it weren’t for your fuckin’ contract I would’ve already strangled the life out of him a long fuckin’ time-’

BANG!

Something inside Matvey snapped.

He stood motionless behind his desk, chair fallen to the floor; gun tightly in his hand, finger still solidly around the trigger, the booming noise and echo of the gunshot drowned out by the thunderstorm but the ringing left like an alarm in his ears.

Sanders lay motionless on the floor in front of him, a large pool of blood taking shape underneath his corpse and staining the concrete floor. Another body to bury- or, burn, he supposed- one of many, just another tally mark on the wall of those who had lost their lives on his path of revenge.

Matvey watched the blood spread over the floor as his heartbeat slowly settled down, a tight knot in his throat making it hard to breathe; and he lowered his gun but kept his finger around the trigger, his grip so tight he almost feared he would accidentally fire it a second time.

He had not meant for that to happen.

Whether that was actually true or he simply told himself that to ease his mind, he was not sure- not as if it mattered. All he wondered was why; what had caused his anger to overtake him to such a degree he had felt the need to-

‘Sir?’

Dusty had taken a few hesitant steps closer, his voice unmistakably unstable as he spoke. Matvey blinked and turned to look at him- and a single glance was enough to cause the other man to stop in his tracks and freeze on the spot.

‘Leave,’ he heard himself say, voice low as he gestured to the entrance of his office with the gun still in his hand.

‘Should I get some people to clean this u-’

‘I said leave.’

‘Yes, sir. Of course.’

Matvey dropped the gun on his desk as Dusty hurriedly left the room, the door slamming shut a lot louder than necessary causing Matvey’s shoulders to tense up. He absently turned around and set his chair back on the floor- then sank down into it, running a hand through his hair as his eyes wandered back to the still growing pool of blood underneath Sanders’ body.

‘That traitor took everything from us. And you’re just going to let her get away with it?’

Nadya’s voice boomed through the living room, the sharp edge to her words cutting through like a knife carving into skin and flesh and from the corner of his eye Matvey could see Roksana flinch on the couch.

‘We don’t know what happened to him,’ Matvey plainly answered. ‘It could all just be a misunderstanding-’

‘We have lost our fucking jobs! They are not going to give it back!’

Nadya cursed loudly and kicked against one of the chairs at the table, the noises of it echoing through the space surrounding them- and with that, Daniil stood up from the couch and guided his sister out of the room, shooting a single glare at his father on their way out.

‘What the fuck are you protecting her for?’ Nadya cried, leaning backwards against the table.

‘I am not protecting him,’ Matvey cut her off, a bluntness to his voice as he put extra emphasis on the last word of his sentence. ‘Merely giving him the benefit of doubt-’

‘And for WHAT? Do you truly care so little about your fucking family?!’

Matvey rose to his feet with a similar force as earlier and grabbed his gun and screamed- and he emptied it entirely in the floor right next to Sanders’ corpse, the impact of the bullets causing blood to splatter around and leave several new stains around the holes.

It didn’t feel good.

He scoffed and tossed the empty weapon on his desk, and it bounced right off the wood and clattered on the floor instead. Dropped himself back into his chair- ran both his hands through his hair as he inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring while he sucked in his cheek and bit down hard- until the bitter taste of blood spilled into his mouth.

Matvey had not heard from Nadya in several weeks now. He had no idea what she had been up to, ever since they had been forced to relocate when Dupoint had given Vitali a location to work with.

He had no idea what he was doing any of it for anymore.

And with that, he reached for the pack of cigarettes again, flicking one out and putting it between his lips and lighting it while another crackle of thunder illuminated the dark skies above Night City.

#nuclearwriting #rbs much appreciated :) <3 #sorry for once again making vitali have a big argument with someone he loves but it's necessary for Plot #matvey and vitali are so. they make me so. ouuuuuu #they're so painfully similar and it's making me so fucking insane. help meeeee aha xxx #control as central theme of this whole fic is so insane to me as well #from like. staying in control of your emotions. to vitali being in control versus the arasaka brainwashing being in control #to matvey being in control but not having been the one to actively make the first decision to start doing all this. bweh #once again the whole chain of dominos and who caused them to fall in the first place. girl i'm losing my whole mind!!!!!#world's most insane family they are so special to me i hate them i love them i'm tearing nadya to shreds with my teeth #ch:the broker

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