#monderich
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hey its ya boi per with yet another mondatta dump
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [16/20]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
Note: Sorry about the week-delay posting, guys :( Life... threw a couple curveballs recently. Lots of fun stuff.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 16
The following two months are a cold war. The men can all tell something happened, but none of them are brave - or insane - enough to ask. MD stays cooped up in the medbay and most of them are especially careful about injuries now because any gentle touch he might’ve acquired before is definitely gone, with interest. Intel recently came in about an upcoming omnium strike that has Balderich spending most of the days in his quarters. The lieutenants train his sponsorships for him while he stays trapped on vid conferences for hours at a time.
***
Week six of this nightmarish ‘strike coordination’ - seven since he last spoke to the omnic - and they are no closer to a plan than they were four weeks ago. If Balderich had hair, he’d be pulling it right now. Instead, he hasn’t stopped rubbing at his beard for three minutes in an attempt to keep himself calm. Another argument starts up between the Spanish and French commanders, the third one in two hours. The Dane pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh and a mutter against their mothers that he can’t help but agree with at this point. Petras, the man supposedly in charge of coordinating this strike, attempts to get them back on track, but Balderich knows neither will listen to a man with no field experience; frankly, he isn’t too fond of the man either. He leaves Balderich feeling a little greasy.
A harsh bark of German shuts the pair up long enough to get back on topic for now. “Mister Petras, I know it has been brought up before, but knowing the location of this omnium would greatly increase our abilities to plan this strike, as well as some idea about the members of your ‘strike team.’ I still don’t fully understand why it is so important to keep us all in the dark.”
Petras releases a long-suffering sigh that manages to get directly under his skin. “Once again, Colonel von Adler, it’s nothing against you or any others present, it’s simply a matter of security, especially after the report the UN received concerning the hack into your base. The hacker still hasn’t been apprehended, and we don’t know what information was compromised. Best not to take any chances.”
He hums in response. He still wonders why he hasn’t simply told the UNSC about M--Jörmungandr. Perhaps his own pride and shame, that he brought the hacker under his own roof and would have remained clueless if the omnic hadn’t told him himself. That he continues to harbor him, protecting both of them from the fallout: dishonorable discharge for himself, and complete destruction for Jörmungandr. Years of service, wasted, because of one omnic that worked his way under his skin and into his bed.
In all honesty, that’s the true sticking point. The months spent cultivating a relationship, tainted as the memories are now, have a hand in keeping his mouth shut. The romantic in him refuses to believe that none of that was real, that that night wasn’t real. Jörmungandr was almost begging him to hate him the next morning. In his experience, that doesn’t come from a place of surety and confidence.
A vague plan goes on the digital map in front of him, hardly any attention given to the troop movements he’s drawing. Another argument sparks up at some point that he flat out ignores this time and continues with his lines and arrows, not sure if he’s coming up with garbage or genius at this point, but some of his best work has come out of utter distraction and gotten him where he is now.
Fifteen minutes later, he finally looks up to find the argument still ongoing, at this point devolved down to two old schoolmates who should’ve fallen into bed years ago to get rid of this tension between them.
“Mister Petras. I have a proposal I would like to put forward for review.”
Relieved is the only word that can describe Petras’s face as the Frenchman and Spaniard are finally put on mute. “Yes, Colonel von Adler? Please send it over and I’ll get back to you as soon as I have the UN Security Council’s answer.”
He sends it over to Petras’s device and the man scans it, shooting Balderich a considering look before the conference call is abruptly ended for the day.
‘Thank God above.’
***
A week of blessed silence goes by as he throws himself back into his training, spending extra time with his potential squires and on his own in the gym to make up for all the desk jockeying he’s been doing. The frustration of the past two months is bled off slowly through sweat and back breaking workouts. Each night finds him taking a brief shower after supper and falling face first into bed until reveille the next morning.
***
He has mail today, which is strange in and of itself, but the contents baffle him until after his first cup of coffee: a slip of paper with a string of numbers on it, a small data disk, a large coin that looks like a logo of some kind, and a letter of invitation.
Ah. Petras’s strike team. And what is likely the date of the strike itself; he supposes that means his proposal was well received.
He reads the letter multiple times over breakfast, taken in his room. When he’s done eating, he passes the coin from hand to hand as he stares at the simulation of the planned strike on his computer. Adjustments have been made, but it is definitely the rough outline he sent Petras. Now that he has more than lines of elevation, he can see it’s in his neck of the woods, so to speak, just inside the German border near France.
The coin is heavy in his hands, solid: a good representation, he thinks, of the responsibilities that come with it. Barring his… relationship… with Jörmungandr, he’s never shirked his duties. To be considered for a task force that has, according to rumors, already taken out three omniums in America is a high compliment.
He runs his thumb over the emblem and is reminded of silk smooth alloy under his hands - hot and strangely, gratifyingly alive - and round bruises dug into his back that have only just finished fading. His grip tightens around the coin before he sets it on his desk.
Before he leaves for this strike, he needs to have a chat that is now months overdue.
***
The omnic is distracted with giving Franco a physical before he goes on leave to visit his family when a knock sounds at his office door. “Come in.”
The door swishes open. “Is this a bad time?”
He pauses, slowly looking over to confirm he’s not hearing things before turning back to Franco. “Lieutenant, could you come back later today to finish your physical? I’m afraid the Colonel and I need to talk.”
Franco is already up and heading for the door. “Not a problem, really. Sir.” He nods a quick greeting and is gone, door shutting quietly behind him. The omnic turns to his computer to update the file.
“Why haven’t you activated your virus yet?” It’s said quietly, like he’s too tired to shout.
“Why haven’t you reported me to the UNSC yet?” Equally quiet, he’s not going to be the first one to break.
Balderich sits down on the exam stool and watches the omnic for a very long moment. Not once does the omnic turn to look at him. He slowly reaches and catches that golden jaw with a finger, gently turning him to make eye contact.
“What is your name?”
A whisper, unwillingly admitted. “... I don’t know.”
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and finally a bunch of sfw sketchy mondattas from my rp account
#overwatch#tekhartha mondatta#mondatta#balderich von adler#hanzo shimada#monderich#handatta#idek with these ship names#per's art
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [14/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 14
Balderich rings every lingering pulse of sensation out of him before collapsing next to him, shaking, breathing heavily from the exertion and his own orgasm. He lays an arm across MD’s torso, stroking his thumb over an exposed piston. Just a minute to enjoy the afterglow, then he’ll get a rag and clean the both of them…
***
Jörmungandr listens to Balderich’s breathing slow down and even out. It’s torturous minutes before he feels safe enough to wriggle out from under the heavy weight of the human’s arm.
He yanks on his sweatpants and stumbles out the door, heedless of the mess leaking out of his valve and cooling on his legs. He can’t believe he… he…
Maker, even thinking about it makes his circuits crawl.
All he can think about - all he can let himself think about - is getting to the hospital. Less than one half of a percent left to get through the firewalls. He can finish it himself. It’ll be quick, in and out. Slam through those last threads of code. Push the signal out. He already has the ports scanned, the files ready.
The walk to the hospital is a blur. His vents pop open at random intervals, still erratic and recovering from… earlier. He can’t think about it or he won’t stop. If he thinks about it, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to finish this.
‘I need to finish this.’ It’s what he was made for.
The smokers always leave an external stair access door propped open. Careless.
His feed shows no one outside right now. Ozzie told him the communications crew goes remote access at these hours, exempting emergency.
He slots a loop of an empty stairwell into the security feed and darts up the stairs, his feet barely tapping at the metal steps. His spinal connector is ready and shaped for the door by the time he reaches it, and he’s in with only the sound of the door’s pneumatic hiss.
Jörmungandr freezes for a moment as the door clicks shut behind him. His connector clicks into its next shape and he snaps out of his fugue, plugging into a random workstation. His vents still open and close without control. He can’t tell if he’s overheating.
His drill code is easy to find, pulling him quickly through the compromised security firewall to its current position. He settles his stance. Drying semen starts to flake off his modesty plating.
99.782%
“Fuck it.”
He brute forces through and sets off a cascade of alarms, but he ignores the warning alerts. All nonessential processes are culled and redirected to pushing his signal. His virus.
His key to the world.
UPLOAD AND LAUNCH TIME: 79 SECONDS
Security personnel are storming up the stairs. He activates the door lock to Administrator Override Only.
UPLOAD AND LAUNCH WINDOW: 63.89 SECONDS +/- 10.26
Cooling processes are culled. His temperature immediately begins to climb. The security chief with admin access is called to the stairwell.
UPLOAD AND LAUNCH TIME: 49.10 SECONDS +/- 7.39
UPLOAD AND LAUNCH WINDOW: 42.83
No other processes can be redirected. Temperature is 11’C above optimal and rising. He doesn’t have time to get through the code launch.
UPLOAD TIME: 29.03 SECONDS +/- 4.38
… Acceptable. It has to be. He doesn’t have a choice.
UPLOAD WINDOW: 12.66 SECONDS
UPLOAD: COMPLETE
He yanks his connector from the port and ducks between servers. The door slides open with a quiet hiss that’s overwhelmed by the human security pouring in, shouting.
Temperature is 15’C above optimal. Optic sensors are starting to glitch.
***
MD’s cooling vents blow open. Optic sensors come online. He’s outside the hospital, lying under a… bush? He’s not sure how he made it out. He’s still not safe though. Human voices are only slowly moving away from his hiding place. He crawls out of the bush in the opposite direction of the voices.
He does a quick systems check. Minor heat damage: expected, unconcerning at this time.
Jörmungandr got his virus out. He couldn’t launch it - activate it - not yet, but
it’s out there.
Spreading.
‘Is this what “giddy” feels like?’
… How long was he lying there? He needs to get back to the barracks before anyone wakes up, before...
Balderich. Confusion and confliction settle over him like a haze. MD registers the… the mess between his legs again and shivers in a disorienting mix of disgust and aro--
a feeling he refuses to identify right now.
He enters the barracks and pads to Balderich’s quarters. Just inside the door, he hesitates, watching the man still asleep on the bed. He should get back in with him to avoid later questions.
MD curls up in the chair by the colonel’s desk. He can’t do it.
***
Balderich brings his hand up to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Shit, he didn’t mean to fall asleep. How long has he been out? And where is MD?
He sits up, vision mostly cleared. The clock by his bed reads 1:39AM. Damn, he really slept almost two and a half hours?
The man looks around and spots MD curled up in his desk chair, sweatpants on. He smiles and holds his hand out in invitation.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep like that. What are you doing all the way over there? Come back to bed.”
MD chirps and shakes his head. Balderich frowns, concerned now, and steps over to the omnic, kneeling in front of him. He can still slightly smell their sex from earlier.
“Are you alright? Let’s get you cleaned up. You will feel better.”
MD chirps again, but doesn’t resist him when he picks the omnic up and carries him into the small bathroom, setting him on the toilet lid.
Balderich keeps his voice quiet. MD doesn’t seem to be in a good headspace. “I need you to take your sweats off. Would you prefer I do it?”
The omnic quietly shimmies the thick cotton down his legs, sitting back down with them slightly spread. Balderich gently wipes them both clean before picking the omnic up again and carrying him back to bed. He gives MD his ugly orange blanket the medic loves to rag on but always curls up under when they have their late night discussions and takes the side of the bed closest to the wall. MD is mostly stiff, keeping several inches between them, while Balderich gets comfortable. Before he dozes off for the second time that night, he feels that metal body tuck up against his side and hold onto his arm like a plush toy.
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [9/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 (on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 8
‘What just happened there?!’
MD collapses back into his chair and puts his head in his hands. His vents are still open but he still feels on the verge of overheating. What was he thinking?
He mutters to himself, quietly repeating aloud the thought that had him all but shoving the colonel out the door. “‘I think I see the appeal the nurses were talking about…’ Appeal?! What appeal is there? He’s a fucking human!”
His processors must be on the fritz again, like the Robin Glitch. How he felt while Balde - the colonel was talking… his processors were reacting like when he’s in his alcove, how he came to feel in those forsaken shacks back in the camp. He felt safe! With a human nearly pinning him in place, he felt safe! And then he squeaked!
He swears he can still feel the colonel’s hand on his arm. Maker, if he hadn’t just had a thermometer in the man’s mouth a few minutes ago, he might’ve thought him feverish!
MD releases a quiet whine as he feels another set of vents pop open.
***
After he calms down from his mild existential crisis, he ends up calling the hospital to send three nursing aid omnics as temporary assistants before he takes the list to the colonel, with a note sent out simultaneously to the men to wait by their open doors for more information.
***
MD holds out a tablet with a list of all the Crusaders in the barracks. Balderich takes the list and reads over it with a sigh. The names aren’t in alphabetical order, which means they are in order of highest risk. To the other three residents of this hallway, “Franco, you’re on house arrest. Dietrich, Reinhardt, you two are fine.”
Franco groans and slumps back into his room while Dietrich and Reinhardt high five.
MD pipes in, “You will still need to be examined at least once a day in case symptoms develop later on, and you still may not leave the barracks until quarantine is lifted.” Now they groan.
Balderich chuckles. “You two go find something to do. Franco! Now you can catch up on all those movies you moan about missing!” Another groan answers, full of disgust and giving the impression he just said ‘fuck off’ without actually saying the words. He’ll be fine.
MD trails behind him to the rest of the men’s rooms and repeats what he told Dietrich and Reinhardt. “Whether you are or are not considered currently infected, everyone here will have to submit to daily examinations, should symptoms develop later on during quarantine.”
Balderich clears his throat and raises his voice to be heard down the length of the hallway. “If I call your name, you are confined to quarters for quarantine. Siobhan. Louis. Ferdinand. Andrea. Roderich. Henri. If you did not hear your name, you are free to roam the barracks, so long as you submit yourself to the examinations. For those of you confined, your meals will be brought to you. Understood?”
“Yes sir!”
“Dismissed.”
Balderich turns around, intent on discussing what happened in the medbay, but MD already slipped away. Sneaky little omnic.
***
MD spends the rest of the morning waiting on the nursing units, filling the time with his security feed and the occasional cat video. Did he remember to send along a note to just come to the medbay windows?
Seems he did because just around lunch there’s a quiet tapping at the glass. Three omnics wave and chirp greetings, one with four points in a horizontal line, another with one notably large point, and the third with four points in a rhombus.
MD opens the window and sticks his head out. “My assistants, I’m guessing?”
Rhombus responds first, “Yup! I’m Skimmer-12, single point over here is Jamiya, and that’s Pat. Oh, Broom says hi, and that Ozzie should be on base within the month.”
He nods to each of them in turn. “MD-8178. Come in then, we need to get things straight before I subject you to the men. They finally managed to find the part she needs?”
Pat laughs as the three nurses squeeze on the field cot. “Try just buying her a new foot! The part’s such a pain to find, so it was faster and cheaper. So the mighty Crusaders turn into children when sick? Can’t imagine.”
“It’s only day one, so they’re not too awful yet. You’ll each get access to five sets of medical records, since there are four of us, and there’s a room set aside for medics that you three can split if you don’t want to go in the public areas. A whole new foot? Really? Well, needs must; I only hope it’s the same finish as the rest of her. Can you imagine being gunmetal and walking around with a brushed-brass foot?”
The three on his cot crack up while he divvies up the files. Skimmer-12 trills in confusion when they look over their files. “Why do I have Colonel von Adler?”
“You have the most experience, I thought it prudent.” And he doesn’t want to risk a repeat of earlier if he can help it.
“Yes, but you are the unit medic. Shouldn’t you examine the unit commander?” Skimmer-12 hasn’t accessed the file yet beyond the name so he can’t use that as an excuse. Damn.
“I… suppose so, yes. Very well. Which one will you take in exchange?”
“Mmm… This one.” Franco, then.
“Very well. All exams are done for now, though I’d like to check them over again after dinner. Now, I’ll show you all where you’ll be sleeping, then you can spend the rest of the day as you please.”
He leads them to the room he still hasn’t used to sleep in and punches in the door code he skimmed from the security system. “My apologies, I forgot there’s only one bed. I can request an air mattress if that’s an issue?”
Jamiya, “Nah, sir, we’re used to sleeping on top of each other. Bed looks big enough anyway. You’re sure it’s ok for us to be in here? Looks like officers quarters.”
“I’m sure. If anyone tries to give you grief, point them to myself or the colonel; his quarters are just down the hallway. Dietrich, Franco, and Reinhardt are all on this hallway as well.” The other omnics are all looking around the room now, figuring out what space belongs to whom while they’re here. MD retreats, again, to the medbay.
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [12/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 12
Over the next few months, every Crusader on base is deployed to some part of Europe or other to assist in a push back against omnic incursions. Jörmungandr isn’t overly worried, he’s heard them talking about how they’re still nowhere near destroying an omnium.
Halfway through the first month, Ozzie does indeed make it on base, thankfully with a matching foot, and into the communications center. Well, all of his regular patients are going to be in and out for at least a few weeks, now is as good a time as any to catch up. It doesn’t take much to convince her to let him on the fifth floor with her so they can continue talking while she’s on shift.
“Just don’t tell anyone I did this, ok? Your voice is different than what I remember.”
“My synth is locked. And I got punched in the head about a month ago, quite the story...”
The communications center is mostly staffed by omnics with one or two human supervisors, and he learns it’s kept on a completely separate network from the rest of the base. Explains his inability to remote hack it.
“Everyone has some access to it, but it’s all level one, or level two, which is the bigwigs.”
The ‘work stations’ are microscopic desks with stools all huddled in an empty area by the door, each with a port that allows direct access to the digital entry into the system. Jörmungandr quietly ports into the station next to Ozzie’s and starts scanning the firewalls he needs to get through. It’s a nightmare. The best he can do for now is leave a scrap of code that can slowly drill a small hole for him to use later. It’s going to take months. He wants to throw something out a window. Preferably whoever designed this, possibly after shaking their hand.
After Ozzie shoos him out citing a supervisor coming on shift, he heads for the service stairs and, for old time’s sake, sets off at least one fire alarm per floor. Petty, but it feels so good to inconvenience these humans a little bit after the news he got today.
***
A week later, MD is just back from bullying Ferdinand into going to his physical therapy appointment - the happy idiot can come back unscathed from a battle with bastions and OR-13s, but manages to pull a muscle in his hand opening a pickle jar of all things - when Balderich, Reinhardt, and Henri get back from their latest deployment almost three days late.
“... Lieutenant, would you like a razor for that thing on your face?”
He doesn’t know what’s so funny but Balderich and Henri break down laughing while Reinhardt looks wounded by his question.
“I’m trying to grow it out!”
***
Jörmungandr spends the months of back-to-back deployments taking shifts at the base hospital again, clipping loops of security footage - empty stairwells and hallways - and chatting with Ozzie and Broom when their breaks line up. He trades meaningless gossip back and forth, carefully nudging Ozzie for information on how the communications system works, porting in to a station each time they meet up in there and nudging his drill code that hundredth of a percent ahead of schedule.
During the occasional week that the colonel is on base, he focuses on this new bond the man seems to have formed for him. The flirting is strange, but he feels like he's improving as he goes.
***
Balderich levers himself slowly out of his bed, groaning the whole way. He's on two weeks mandatory rest after pulling something in his leg, and he has check-ups that need doing. Three months of these in-and-out deployments are taking a toll on him and his men, and he can only see more of the same when he thinks of the weeks and months to come. He rubs at a sore muscle in his neck and suddenly remembers his physical later this morning, a small point of pleasure in this mess the world is becoming.
MD still doesn't go easy on him when he's between missions, even with this budding... thing between them. He'd like to call it attraction, maybe a relationship on his more confident days, but some days he's not entirely sure; on those days it almost feels like an acting role the omnic is still figuring out how to play convincingly.
He scratches his jaw and makes a face at the heavy stubble he finds, effectively distracting himself from his contemplations. A quick pass over his scalp leaves the same prickling sensation over his palm.
'Get over it or get it over with...'
In the end, he can't get over it, so he hobbles into the bathroom, sits on the toilet lid, and blesses his long arms that can reach the sink so he can shave sitting down. His scalp is nearly clear when Reinhardt disregards proper decorum - it's becoming an 'as usual' thing, and it's becoming annoying - and enters his quarters.
"Can I help you, Lieutenant?"
"MD wanted me to let you know he'll be making housecalls today because, I quote, 'I've seen geriatrics more mobile than you lot.'"
Charming as always. "Thank you, Reinhardt. Do the others know?"
"Mhm, you were my last stop." His desk chair squeaks as his former squire makes himself comfortable. Must be bored if he's willing to sit with Balderich on his off day. The younger man is recovering from a nasty concussion because he refuses to wear his helmet now unless Balderich shoves it on his head for him and a cracked clavicle. The sling pinning his arm looks a little worn, like MD had to scrounge around to find one the right size.
He finishes making himself feel human again and slowly makes his way back to bed. Reinhardt is badly suppressing a grin. "You look too happy, what's going on?"
"I can't wait to see your face when he stops by, that's all."
One eyebrow rises to his newly-removed hairline. What the hell does that mean?
***
Reinhardt ropes him into watching some awful American 1980's TV show because David Jackenoff - "Hasselhoff!" whatever - is in it. They're three episodes and one and a half hours of regret into it when MD comes to the rescue.
The lieutenant does indeed burst out laughing at Balderich's face when the omnic walks in wearing nothing but his plates, not even his ugly flipflops. MD notices and pokes his shoulder.
"Everything alright, Colonel? I didn't realize American TV was truly so effective at brain rot."
"I-- Where are your clothes?" Genius response there.
"I didn't feel like wearing them today, and as I'm only 'government property,' there's no dress code I'm required to observe." The loathing and disgust reassures him it is indeed MD standing nude in front of him. And about to examine the pulled muscle in his leg.
'Someone somewhere hates me.' Talk about look but don’t touch.
The presence of an entirely unwelcome audience keeps any swelling down, at least, and the exam goes smoothly. The pair of them share a look and Balderich envies MD his unemotive face as he forces down laughter.
"You're recovering well, which is good news. I'd be disappointed if a pulled muscle was all it took to remove you from the picture."
"It'll take more than this to keep me pinned. How much do you weigh, again?" He curls his hands a little to keep them to himself. MD's been allowing him liberties with touch the last month or two, but he gets a feeling he'd be pushing it right now with Reinhardt in the room.
Reinhardt's face nearly breaks his veneer of calm. He's getting old, but he's not dead yet.
"Not enough to keep you on your back unless you wanted." MD drops a reusable cold pack next to him. "Until the next time you can't keep out of trouble, then. Honestly, this is the only way you can think of to get me in your quarters?"
"It's certainly the easiest, give me credit for that much."
"I won't because it just makes more work for me, which is hardly my idea of a good time. Lieutenant, I'll see you later to check on that break."
Reinhardt nods dumbly as MD gathers his things. His jaw drops when Balderich blatantly watches the omnic's silicone padded ass as he leaves. Once the door clicks shut, he finds his voice again.
"You're a cruel, dirty old man."
Balderich laughs so hard his face almost hurts enough to match his leg.
***
Jörmungandr can't help a quiet laugh as he slips into the safety of the med bay.
'His face! Maker, that was priceless.'
Circuits buzz pleasantly under his chassis, a fairly normal occurrence since he decided to pursue this distraction with the colonel. It settles down enough after an hour that he can ignore it and check on his little scrap of hacking code.
It moves at a glacial pace, but it makes progress all the same. It's so close now, the buzzing in his circuits returns with a slightly different feeling, no less pleasant for that extra edge to it. He has months invested already, he can wait a few more days...
***
MD isn’t sure how, but one night almost six months after he first gained access to the communications room, he gets roped into playing ‘referee’ - glorified audience - for a few rounds of competitive drinking between the men - all on base at once for the first time in four months - while he nurses a bottle of oil. At least he gets to claim one of the couches in the rec room to himself while they get hammered. Balderich opts out early on, something about the whiskey affecting his plans for later? They’ve slowly been getting more physical lately, when Balderich asked him to his quarters later this evening.
Reinhardt gets knocked out in round three and collapses on the couch next to MD so heavily the omnic bounces a few inches and almost spills his oil. He barks a rebuke at the inebriated lieutenant, who drunkenly laughs through an apology. MD is reminded of Balderich’s complaints that Reinhardt is getting cocky on deployments recently. And he still wishes Reinhardt would shave the beard he’s slowly trying to grow out from its original goatee.
“How any of you still have your liver is beyond me.”
“It would take more than a few pints of beer to finish off a mighty Crusader!”
“Perhaps, but those few pints could make you an easier target for a bastion if you get deployed tomorrow.”
Reinhardt laughs, “You have a good heart, my friend! Always concerned about us.”
“I have a core, lieutenant.”
“Hey hey hey, we’re past this lieutenant nonsense. It’s Reinhardt, remember? And ok, yes, but a core is like… like a tech heart, ah?” The German’s speech was so slurred from drink, the last words almost sounded like one long one, and it took the omnic a minute to parse out what he said.
“You clearly need sleep, my friend. I think I’ll let you have the couch for the night.” He carefully but firmly takes the stein of beer the man is still holding and dumps it in the sink before heading to Balderich’s quarters. He has an idea of what the man meant, though he’s not sure how it’s going to play out.
The man greets him at the door with a kiss, answered with a spark of omnic energy he only recently figured out.
“You took your time getting here.”
“Your men are very distracting.”
“Not too distracting, I hope?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That you are.” Balderich startles a squeak out of the omnic when he picks him up, MD’s arms wrapping snug around his neck.
“I should kick you for that.”
“Ah, but you won’t.”
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [8/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 (on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 8
MD catches up with Broom more after returning to his office, settling into his new chair that they stole out of a storage room. They shrug and wave off his concerns. “It was collecting dust, figured none of the doctors would miss it.”
He laughs and nudges over the examination stool, an invitation for his friend to sit down. “I fully appreciate your pragmatism in this, I promise. Have you been able to find the part for Ozzie’s foot yet? You must be able to afford it by now, even on an omnic supervisor’s pay.” The thoughts of how little he and other omnics make compared to human counterparts almost sour his mood, but he chooses not to focus on it - for the moment. ‘Pay gaps won’t be an issue too much longer if I get my way.’
They take the seat with a small sigh from their vents, relaxing worn pistons and joints after two days on shift. “Still hunting. It’s a delicate part, and she’s an older model, so even the knock-offs are pricey. I’m looking at other options at this point; can’t get much more expensive than it is now.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Let me know if you need anything; I’m not the greatest at holding on to cash at the moment, but I’ve still got something in the bank.”
After Broom and his team are gone, MD spends the next two days getting settled in, putting his personal effects where he wants them, and in general rearranging the room as equipment is brought in. Each piece shrinks the space further and further, until it’s down to something he feels he can manage. It becomes a little cramped if any three Crusaders try to come in at once, but the limitation only makes it more his space and less open to invasion.
***
Miracle of miracles, Balderich gets no complaints about the new medic for a whole three days after the... memorable introduction. Of course, the first complaint he hears isn’t official by any means, simple lunchtime conversation, but that doesn’t make him any less concerned when he hears Andrea further down the table, rubbing his arm where a small bruise is blooming around an injection site.
“It’s got all the charm you’d expect from an omnic. I don’t sit perfectly still, and the thing sees fit to hold me down like an unruly child!”
It. Thing. A small slip, but massive for the implications. The words immediately reduce the omnic to lesser - something hardly worth anything, disposable and entirely replaceable without note. Balderich grits his teeth. He requested the omnic because he has a personality; it’s not the best one by a long shot - he’s so far prickly on a good day, and Balderich doubts they’ve seen a bad day yet.
“Andrea, a moment with me?” He makes a beckoning gesture.
“Yes sir.” The Italian is clearly confused, but follows him outside the mess hall. “Sir?”
Balderich speaks low, knowing this is not going to be well received, more so than censure usually is. “I know you are not particularly fond of omnics, but please. He is your medic, not a toaster, and not one of those rust buckets that try to shoot us. I know he is not the most pleasant individual, but that does speak to his individuality. He has an identity, and I am asking you to respect that. Are we clear?”
Andrea swallows, looking like he just sucked a lemon. “Yessir. May I be dismissed, sir? I would like to finish my lunch while it’s still warm.”
“Dismissed.” He follows Andrea after a minute, intent on finishing his own lunch even though his appetite is suddenly gone.
***
MD hits the BX for some rags and cleaner so he won’t have to constantly bother Broom and his crew for basic cleaning, but when he gets there he realizes he still needs a decent set of curtains for the windows and a privacy sheet for his cot… The space is rather plain at the moment… A new plant wouldn’t go amiss either.
He stops himself at the curtains and sheet, plus three small plants, and some cord to make a hanging planter. So much for money management there.
***
Jörmungandr checks his security feed for the fourth time in twenty-four hours the next day between patient check-ups. There has to be a way he can get back inside without having to walk through the middle of the hospital. He’s just missing something… He wasn’t necessarily close to getting to the fifth floor yet, even when he was outright living at the hospital, but now it’s so much harder with the fact he has to get in the damn building in the first place.
He’s just starting to look for other points of ingress when MD’s next patient comes in to review his medical file and he has to back out of the feed again. Back to updating medications, taking blood samples, and scheduling booster shots. Code-rotting boredom is what this job is.
***
Two days after he tempts fate once again - ‘I really need to stop doing that.’ - MD is woken by an alert on his HUD and banging on the medbay door accompanied by shouting. He pulls up the notice before he reaches the door and freezes, standing in the middle of the room.
THE CRUSADERS’ BARRACKS NOW UNDER QUARANTINE DUE TO POTENTIAL H3N2 FLU OUTBREAK.
ALL CRUSADERS ARE TO REPORT TO MEDICAL UNIT MD-8178 FOR EVALUATION AND RISK ASSESSMENT.
QUARANTINE WILL REMAIN ACTIVE UNTIL MEDICAL UNIT MD-8178 DECLARES RISK OF INFECTION SPREADING: NEGLIGIBLE.
… He just woke up. But he opens the door and tries to talk over them - difficult enough when they’re all calm - getting progressively louder, “If you would all get in a single file line, I will run the assessments as quickly as - I need you all to quiet - Just get in a line and -”
Ok. He’s not putting up with this, his day is starting great enough already. He ramps up the volume and gives them a lovely feedback shriek for a perfect five seconds. Next, a moment to let their ears stop ringing... “Get in a single file line and I’ll figure out which of you were dumb enough to get sick and bring this quarantine down on all of us. When your exam is complete, go wait in your quarters until I issue the results. No one is to be wandering the corridors during this time. You get caught, you go on report, and you will get caught.”
***
As he takes temperatures and checks for other symptoms, he revisits Hell Week and wants to strangle the omnic of almost three months ago. He’s still catching the fallout, unbelievable. Most of the organic bastions keep quiet, and he does end up checking that no one has any ruptured eardrums. An airhorn might have been kinder, but convenience and hindsight and all that. One or two still give him nasty looks - particularly that Italian - but there are witnesses so he counts himself safe enough.
He saves Balderich for last. “Colonel, provided you are not one of the possibly-infected, I think I will bring the list to you in your quarters and have you inform the men about who will be under stricter quarantines.”
He looks at him oddly. “Any particular reason why?”
“Because I need them as cooperative as possible, and they will take the idea of being confined to quarters for several days much better if it isn’t coming from an… from me. Turn your head, I need to check your eardrums.”
Balderich watches the omnic out of the corner of his eye. “... You are scared of us.”
MD hums, a note of ‘duh’ tucked in the sound. “I am am omnic living surrounded by men whose careers boil down to destroying omnics. I understand one phrase for such a situation is ‘sleeping in the lions’ den.’ Your eardrums appear to be undamaged, send me a note if you notice any sudden changes in balance, or a ringing in your ears, and I’ll come check on you in quarters.” MD turns away to dispose of the cap on the otoscope when a hot, heavy hand wraps tight around his forearm.
An automatic response to unexpected restraint kicks in and curls his fists tight, otoscope creaking under the pressure. His head swings around, looking for the delicate bone at the temple as his target. Balderich is just sitting there, relaxed except for the hold on his arm. MD warily lowers his unrestrained hand and drops the now destroyed tool in the bin with a hollow clank of metal on plastic. “Colonel, what exactly are you playing at?”
“This is why I requested you for our medic.”
“What? Why?” Requested him? Because he’s willing to crush his skull under threat?
The insane human has the audacity to shrug at him. “You don’t respond like most of the omnics on base. You have personality. What you just did in response to my actions is very similar to what a human would do.”
‘Well that’s just rude.’
“I requested you because I am worried my men are forgetting that - while they are, yes, protecting humanity - we are fighting for our way of life, which includes omnics like you. Some of them have come to think that all omnics should be destroyed, for safety, but if we did that every time part of a group became a threat to the world, most of my men’s grandparents would never have been born, after the Wars over a century ago. We would be in eastern France or western Poland right now - maybe even southern Denmark - instead. I understand that you are scared, but please do not let it stifle you.”
They sit there for a few minutes, looking at each other, evaluating. MD slowly relaxes his other fist in Balderich’s grip as fans kick on and a few small vents pop open. Balderich is watching the light from the window play on pale metal when the omnic lets out a strange sound - ‘Was that a squeak?’ - as he finally responds, rushed, “Thank you, Colonel, but I need to get these results together. I’ll bring them by your quarters later.”
He’s very quickly ushered - pushed, really - out and the door shuts behind him, the tint on the inset window going totally opaque. He stares at the probably-locked door, stunned, as he mutters to himself, “What just happened there?”
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [17/20]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
Note: Sorry about the week-delay posting, guys :( Life… threw a couple curveballs recently. Lots of fun stuff.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 17
The omnic tries to turn away from him, tries to hide again, but they’ve both done enough hiding by now. He grips that metal jaw tighter with his full hand. The weight of the moment is offset by the small thrill at the feeling of warm alloy against him again.
“I know why I haven’t reported you yet. And I think we both know why you haven’t activated your virus yet, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
The omnic tries to break his hold. “Colonel--”
Balderich squints at him, studying him, not letting up. “You told me everything. Why would you do that? Why would you give me all the evidence I’d need to have you scrapped? It makes no sense… unless that’s why. You wanted me to react in rage, not disappointment. You wanted an excuse to do it, to feel justification for wiping out humanity. Now why would you feel like you need that?”
“I don’t need--!” The omnic shoves at the hand holding him still.
“Bullshit! If you didn’t, I would be dead by now - I’m willing to bet we all would be, or close enough to it. But you know that, and it bothers you, doesn’t it? Is that why you haven’t done it yet? Because as much as you want to bury it, you feel something that’s stopping you.”
The omnic is out of his chair before Balderich can blink, metal fists curled. “There’s nothing stopping me from beating you into silence.”
“Go ahead! I’ve talked through injuries before, it will hardly be the first time.” He stands to his full height, undaunted, arms spread in challenge. He has no idea where he’s going with all this, but he’s getting somewhere all the same. “You did what you did that night to prove to yourself that you could still do it. But it hasn’t gone anywhere, you can’t finish it because you care about what that would do.”
He crowds into the omnic’s space as he talks, the other curling in on himself in silent denial, but then something seems to snap, the same way he did that morning two months ago, and the omnic is suddenly right in his face and shouting, something he’s never truly done before. Now it’s Balderich’s turn to back away as gleaming white and gold and glowing blue fills his vision.
“Yes! Yes, alright, I do care! I care that the second I activate it, I’m signing the death warrant of you, the Crusaders, and every other man, woman, and child on this planet, and I hate it! Humanity is disgusting. You create things that could benefit your entire species and one of the first things you ever do with anything is figure out how to kill each other with it! Over the pettiest fucking things! You murder each other in droves over the fact that parts of your species even exist, and then decades later try to erase it from your own history! Your greatest atrocities are committed out of the basest forms of greed, zealotry, and ego, and then it all gets covered up because of ‘the greater good.’ Humanity is disgusting and deserves to burn.” The tirade is punctuated by his vents opening, fans audibly coming online, and the fight seems to leave him with the rush of heat and steam. He takes a small step forward and slumps into Balderich’s chest, hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt.
“I was made to do one thing, and I can’t do it anymore because I care about a few overgrown, hairless apes. It’s pathetic. I was never MD, and I haven’t been Jörmungandr since that night. I’m just a broken omnic who couldn’t even carry out what I was designed for, my literal reason for existence. So now what am I supposed to do?” He hates how pathetic he sounds, but he’s too tired to keep a pretense anymore.
Large hands hover, then settle on his waist, and he leans into the contact. How in Hell this man can make him feel threatened and comforted in a span of minutes is a mystery he doesn’t have the energy to think on right now.
“Now, I think, is a good time for you to move on-- ah ah ah, let me finish.” He holds up a hand in a quieting gesture when the omnic lifts his head and looks ready to interrupt. The words are slow, thought over as he says them. “You’re going through a big change in how you think, and you’ve been fighting it this entire time. So maybe… maybe stop fighting it, and see where it goes from here. Everyone is allowed to change. Correct me if I’m wrong, but… God AI evolve, do they not? It is the same thing. You simply evolved in a new direction, which could be a good thing, if you let it be…”
He gets distracted by the body in his arms leaning up into his hand like a cat and can’t help a chuckle at his antics.
***
Franco is called back to finish his physical, a formality, it turns out, as the omnic declares him fit for leave as he has no obvious signs of sickness.
“If any symptoms do show up, as far as I’m concerned, you caught it wherever you’re going. Now go pack.”
Whatever they talked about, he’s glad to see MD back to how he was before, and quickly reports to the others that that hallway can now be safely walked without fear of death or awkwardness.
***
Later, in Balderich’s quarters, the omnic is straddling his waist on his bed after stripping and stealing his shirt. Personal biases fully included, he approves of the look. He’s stretched out on his back, hands laced behind his head while the omnic maps out old scars with his hands. He also keeps petting his chest hair.
“So, when did you figure all that out?”
“When did I get to your office?”
“13:32…?”
“Then about 13:29 was when I started to realize it.”
“... You humans make no sense, I don’t even know why I’m trying.” The omnic lifts his leg back over his prone body, already scooting away.
“Hey, get back here! We’re having a moment!” He snags a thin wrist and his shirt tail.
“Moment’s dead. You killed it with your human ridiculousness.”
He manages to keep the omnic from fully leaving the bed and gets him back into his spot across his waist, both of them laughing. Fingers drum on his clavicle for a while before he clears his synth.
“In the interest of full disclosure…”
‘Oh dear.’ “Yes?”
“Your strike is in… seventeen days?”
‘How…?’ “Are you still in the communications network?”
He gets a forced-casual shrug. “After I got in the first time, it was easy. Backdoor.”
He heaves a great sigh, visibly lifting and lowering the omnic sitting on him. “I don’t suppose you caught the name of our target while you were listening in?”
The omnic is definitely put out, slumping a little and audibly sulking. “No. Petras has been very careful about that. There are at least two omniums in that area, including the one that produced me.”
“That doesn’t create a conflict of interest for you?”
“Oh, not at all. To be honest, I’d considered razing him to the ground after activating the virus. Less competition and more resources for myself.” The lack of personal attachment or remorse in there is enough he should find it disturbing, but it sounds similar to something he might’ve said as MD, very early on. Looks like this just might be his personality, then.
Who did he piss off in another life to live in such interesting times as these?
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4, 8, 15 and 20 for the otp questions :D
Since I’m currently writing Monderich, we’ll go with that. The pairing needs more attention!! Hope nobody minds, I’m basing these answers in the world of St Balderich and any sequels because my brain can be a tad one track about things.
4: Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it say?)Balderich. He’ll put together the ‘lunch’ and leave an awful pun note in the box, fully expecting to have the scrap of paper thrown at his head later. Something like “How can you drink this stuff? It’s so oily!” taped to a bottle of oil. He amuses himself, which is all he cares about.
8: Who has bigger cravings?Once again, the big guy. He’ll be fine and obey doctor’s orders for a while, and then something will just hit him in the taste buds and he’ll try to sneak it in behind Mondatta’s back with varying levels of success.
15: Who would discreetly pinch the other one’s butt in public?Both of them, but Balderich has the distinction of getting it started. It’s almost a ‘tag you’re it’ thing with them. Extra points if there’s any recording equipment around and the pincher still doesn’t get caught.
20: Who points at a dog when they see it?He won’t outright point, but Mondatta wants to pet all the dogs (and cats, he won’t discriminate). He’s definitely an animal person and eventually convinces Balderich they need a furbaby or two (or five, who knows).
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I just want to make sure I'm seeing something correctly here, but in your original Monderich art, this one: post/168117444870/indeed-i-am-trash-but-i-am-most-of-all-weak-trash Am I crazy or does Mondatta actually have a butt?
congratulations you have made me laugh out loud
YES. MY OMNICS HAVE BUTTS.
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [15/20]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
Note: Why yes, you read that right. This fic is getting an extra chapter.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 15
Balderich is startled from his dream by a shriek and a mess of clangs next to the bed, plus a sudden lack of warmth. He lifts his head from the pillow to find MD glaring at him from over the edge of the bed, array flaring painfully bright, tangled in Balderich’s orange blanket. The sun is just thinking of rising, so he puts the time around 04:00 to 04:30.
“Why are you on the floor?”
MD only seems to glare harder. “You pushed me!”
Definitely not a happy omnic then. Why would he have--? Oh. “I dreamt I was wrestling a bear. It looked like Reinhardt.” There was also a tutu somewhere but he’s not sharing that part.
That pulls the omnic up short for a few seconds. “... A bear. That looked like Reinhardt.” MD shakes his head and sits back on his heels. “How very German of you.”
Balderich climbs out of bed and kneels in front of the omnic, large hands coming up to cradle the thin waist. “I am sorry I pushed you out of bed. It doesn’t seem like a full night of sleep was in the cards for tonight, does it?”
MD leans into the contact, apparently willing to let the shove go in favor of other pursuits. “It seems not. Shall we admit defeat then?”
Balderich doesn’t answer, contemplating the slender body in his arms. “You know, I’m enjoying having someone to come home to.”
The omnic releases a confused click, head tilting as if studying him. He’s had the thought for a few weeks now, and today seems a good day to finally share. His left hand follows the line of spinal cables up to the base of MD’s head, eliciting a shiver and trill as he cups his jaw. His right hand stays around his waist, tracing and retracing the small gap between two cables.
MD arches into his chest, left arm curling around his back to pull him closer, right hand pressing against his neck, over his pulse. Coarse hairs tickle the small sensors in his fingers.
Balderich leans in, brushing a kiss at the corner of his jaw. “MD…”
The omnic can’t help the small physical tic or the brief dimming of his array signalling his displeasure. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “You still don’t like it.”
“I am… mostly used to it.”
“But you do not like it.”
“... No, I don’t.”
Balderich strokes his jaw with the hand still cradling it. “You should have a proper name. A beauty like you can’t keep answering to ‘MD’ for the rest of your life. It’s impersonal, it doesn’t fit you. And you clearly know that.”
“Then what would you have me call myself?”
He shrugs. “It is your name. Pick whatever you’d like, I only want you to be happy when you hear it, and you are not happy now.”
He jerks away in a burst of irritation. “I don’t want a name, I already have one!” As soon as the words are out, he seizes up. He can’t believe he just… and there’s no way to misinterpret it…
Balderich pulls back, and he misses the warmth and closeness already, more than he knows he should. His voice is bemused and curious, one dark eyebrow arched high. “You do? What is it? And why am I just hearing about this, surely it isn’t so embarrassing?”
“Embarrassing... isn’t the word I’d choose.” That part of him that cracked last night rears its head, accompanied by an almost itchy feeling that distracts him, and what is he saying now? He needs to be quiet, not… “My name is Jörmungandr.”
Those warm hands fall away and the floodgates open. He tells him everything: coming online in the omnium, Robin, the camp, the shipment… last night. He doesn’t look up from Balderich’s chest. Desperation is now what keeps him talking, curls his hands in the orange wool so they won’t fidget, but for what, he’s not sure. Judgement? Personal validation for what he’s done? For what he could still do?
But Balderich just sits there quietly through all of it, until the omnic runs out of things to say. The sun broke the horizon at some point, though reveille hasn’t sounded yet. Balderich feels like he’s looking at a stranger wearing his new lover’s face. He leans against the bed for support, running his hand over his sideburns, and tries to think.
Both jump at the first brassy notes of reveille and the omnic quickly scrambles for his clothes, nearly tripping out of the blanket. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, simply bundles them up and slips out the door, back to medbay. Balderich shifts to sit with his back against the bed, staring at his door. Part of him hopes he’s going to wake up soon, that this last hour and a half were some strange lucid dream, and he can tease MD awake for a last bit of fun before the day begins.
Ten more minutes crawl by and he admits to himself that he is very much awake, and his lover did just reveal that he is a product of everything Balderich has been fighting against the past… year?
‘Has it really gone so fast?’
He stands to get dressed when Rein knocks on his door and shouts through it, “I know you had a long night, Old Man, but you’re going to miss breakfast at this rate!”
“I’ll be out in a moment, Lieutenant!” He pulls on his training clothes, feeling all of his forty years, and heads out, not looking forward to the day ahead like he had imagined yesterday.
***
The omnic hides in the medbay, windows fully shut and blackout curtains drawn for the first time since he was assigned as the Crusaders’ medic. He waits for an EMP grenade to break through the glass, or perhaps gunfire, riddling the small room with holes. Every noise outside the small office makes him twitch, wondering if Balderich followed protocol and reported him. Each time, he contemplates the viral launch code that’s ready for him. He’d need seventeen seconds, thirteen if he redirects all processes. He should do it now, while he has the chance - the firewall hasn’t been properly repaired yet, and he can tell they still haven’t even found his backdoor except for the one section, that half-percent - but something keeps stopping him, like some part of him is still waiting for an excuse. Waiting for Balderich to give him a more personal reason why he should do it.
He wipes the protocol from his HUD and tries to put the whole thing from his mind for now. He has supplies to inventory and restock.
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [11/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |(on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 11
It takes four days to get the rise he wants from the man. Andrea has surprising restraint when he wants to, it’s really almost admirable. Unfortunately, Jörmungandr’s determination is much more steady, and his own life can only become easier without this bastard in the picture.
“I told you to sit down!” He presses down on Andrea’s shoulder and doesn’t see the punch coming.
“Stop ordering me around, you fucking toaster!” It connects hard enough that Jörmungandr feels himself lift off the ground for a second before coming back down in the hallway. His cranium bounces off the door behind him hard enough to short his optic sensors and distort his auricular receptors. There’s a half second of silence before a dozen voices swarm around him, shouting in languages he can’t properly hear to translate. He tries to cover the receptors and block the feedback, but it only helps so much. Two pairs of slim metal hands help him up and walk him out of the corridor, toward the medbay. Something big passes them and a roar echoes behind as a third pair of hands help steady him.
Perfect. Painful, but perfect. A sensor finishes shorting out with a pop he feels in his core.
‘Shit that hurt. I need a machinist.’
***
“What the fuck is going on here?!” An automatic response to the chaotic scene in front of him. He knows exactly what’s going on.
Andrea is pinned under Henri and Dietrich, there’s a dent in Siobhan’s door, and two of the nursing omnics just walked MD past him, clutching his bloody head.
Ferdinand is the first to recover, “Sir, he just lost it!”
Henri, still restraining Andrea, grunts out, “Andrea punched MD so hard he went flying into Siobhan’s door.”
Roderich takes over the narrative next. “Shouted something about a toaster. Next thing we hear is MD’s feedback shriek and a bang when he hit.”
“I told him to stop fucking ordering me around!”
Dietrich snarls, “You split your own knuckle on his face, you fucking idiot! You went way past talking!”
“Enough! All of you, get up!” There’s pushing and shoving from Andrea, Henri, and Dietrich, but he ignores it to take a deep breath before turning his attention to Andrea. “I gave you a warning a week ago about this, and this is what you do? You punch our medic in the face for telling you what to do?! This was an appropriate response to you!” Balderich sweeps his arm out to indicate the scene.
“Andrea, you have been with me for years, long before the beginning of the Crisis, and I have given you every chance to prove yourself. That is my fault. I should have known this would happen when I requested MD as our medic.”
Andrea looks wary but edging toward relief while the rest of them wear expressions of disbelief.
“I need your preference for transfer post.”
“What?! You can’t just transfer me!”
“Like Hell, I can’t! I am your commanding officer, and you have just proven yourself a detriment to how my unit is run! I should be putting you up for court martial for assault!”
“Balderich, it’s a talking pile of bolts, how is that assault?”
“That’s Colonel von Adler to you, Corporal. And it is assault because you punched another member of this unit. I can’t risk the lives of everyone else because you can no longer tell ally from enemy. Now, your prefered transfer post.”
“I’m not transfering!”
“Then I’ll have you discharged.”
Andrea opens his mouth again to argue, but Balderich beats him to it, pointing in the direction of the training barracks. “There are forty men and women training on this base, praying for the chance to take any of your beds from you! None of you are irreplaceable! You have been with me a long time, Andrea, which is the only reason I’m even giving you the option of transferring. You give me your preference by dinner tonight, or I contact the base JAG. Until then, you are still confined to quarters. I’ll get MD to call another nurse to stitch you up after the machinist is done repairing whatever damage you did. The rest of you are dismissed to whatever you were doing before. Quarantine is still active.”
***
He checks on the nursing aids, finds them huddled in the medic quarters. In hindsight, he’s almost glad it was MD that took the hit. None of these three look like they could’ve taken the hit without permanent damage to plating and who knows what else.
Skimmer-12 rattles, like they’re clearing their throat, “MD is in the medbay while the machinist gets here. His synth got knocked out of alignment, and trying to talk to him is going to be extra useless with his auries like they are right now anyway.”
“Do you… need anything?” Do omnics go into shock?
“No, thank you, sir. We’ll be alright.”
“Skip tonight’s after-dinner exam.”
“Yessir. Thank you. The machinist should be by soon. We told them to use the window; I hope that’s not a problem.”
Balderich can’t help it and laughs under his breath. Of course they did. He should probably go wait for the specialist himself. Avoid excessive confusion.
***
Twenty minutes later, he’s helping a very confused machinist in through the medbay window. “Apologies, I’m afraid our medic got the other omnics into a habit very quickly.”
“So I noticed. This him?”
“Yes. There was an… altercation, and he caught the brunt of it. I hope there is not too much damage?”
“Only one way to see. There a chair I can use? Been up and about all day.”
The machinist is there for four hours reconnecting and recalibrating damaged systems and sensors. MD’s synth ended up being the most damaged part, and after replacing a few bits and pieces, the closest the machinist can get to his original voice has a distinctly south Asian accent, which confuses all three of them.
“It will do, I suppose. I’ll simply have to get used to hearing my own voice.” The things he goes through for progress.
“Well, that’s me done for now, then. See you gents later, though hopefully not too soon. Is it alright if I go back out the window? It’s surprisingly convenient.”
Balderich laughs. “Yes, thank you, Specialist Shubaltz. And yes, you can go out the window. I’m starting to wonder why we have a door anymore!”
MD sighs after the machinist leaves and the window is shut. “So, what will happen with Andrea?”
“If he gives me an answer by tonight, a transfer off this base and out of my beard. If he doesn’t, I’m obligated to report the assault, which will likely lead to court martial and discharge without honors.”
MD startles at that. He’d thought the man would get a warning for first offense, possibly probation.
They look at each other, both reminded of the last time they were in here together. MD sighs and reaches into a desk drawer, pulls out an unopened baggie of licorice Pat confiscated the other day and holds it out to Balderich. “Find a better hiding spot than that drawer or your mattress, and don’t let me catch you eating these again. If you truly must, limit it to one pack every two to three weeks. I really don’t understand you humans and your ‘cravings.’”
Balderich takes the baggie and grumbles at himself before dropping it in the bin. “I think I want off these medications more than I want a snack.” Now he just needs to keep reminding himself of that.
MD shakes his head. “You humans are so strange sometimes.”
#mondatta god ai#tekhartha mondatta#balderich von adler#reinhardt wilhelm#monderich#easter egg in this one
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St Balderich Slays the Dragon [10/19]
01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 (on tumblr)
This fic (on AO3)
Pairing: Balderich/Mondatta
Summary: The humans are right to fear omnics and what they can do. What he can and will do to humanity. He is Jörmungandr, and he will see humanity fall.
St Balderich Slays the Dragon
Chapter 10
Balderich stretches out over his bed after a few sets of push ups, sit ups, and lunges. His body aches pleasantly as he settles in on top of the sheets, the chilly fabric a relief against his own hot skin. A nap sounds wonderful, but he knows it will only make falling asleep tonight more difficult, so he lies there and lets his mind wander. It doesn’t take long before it wanders to the forbidden treat he has stashed under the carefully maintained clutter in his small bedside table drawer. He reaches in blindly and easily snags a corner of plastic packaging; the crinkling sounds it makes on reveal have him glancing, paranoid and guilty, at his door.
‘It’s not hurting anyone…’
The thicker plastic at the top goes between his teeth while he resettles, now lounging against the wall with his pillow as back support. He winces at how loud the tearing sound is, but it doesn’t stop him from popping two pieces of licorice into his mouth and savoring them. He hasn’t had any in weeks, and he misses the indulgence.
He leisurely works through the packet, half of it gone when there’s a knock at his door. His first thought is MD coming early for the evening exam and it sends him into a small panic, heart suddenly pounding. Unable to think of anything else, he stuffs the half-empty bag under his mattress and snatches up the novel on top of his bedside table. He clears his throat.
“Enter.”
It’s only Reinhardt, and his heart slows marginally. “Something I can help you with, Reinhardt?”
The younger man wanders closer, used to invading his commander’s space after years together. “Yessir, some of the men and I were wondering if--”
He glances up after a beat, eyebrow rising in question at the sudden silence. “You were wondering if…?”
Reinhardt leans over him, that shit-eating grin that drives Balderich up a wall on a good day slowly spreading across his face. “Well, I was wondering if we could do a movie marathon while we’re all trapped indoors, but now I’m wondering how hard our medic will grab your beard if he finds out you’ve been snacking against orders.”
Balderich sputters out denials until Reinhardt simply points at the corner of his mouth. He wipes his thumb over the spot, and it comes away stained slightly dark from the color in the candies. His face heats at getting caught and - he’ll deny it to his dying breath - he gives his former squire a pathetic look. “It was a moment of weakness?”
Reinhardt snorts, at least attempting to be quiet so his commander won’t get skinned alive. “Movie marathon for my silence.”
“... Nothing pornographic, and if I find even one kernel of popcorn on the floor after, you’re cleaning the floors with a toothbrush.”
“Deal. Enjoy the contraband!” Reinhard leaves quickly after that, whistling as he goes. Time to figure out what movies they can all agree on (none, really, but majority counts).
***
MD checks on the other omnics after dinner. “Time for symptom checks.” They pause their game and follow him to the main set of quarters. Most of the men have no changes to report from the morning, except Louis and Siobhan are showing higher temperatures. Not surprising. Ferdinand gives him the most trouble for all of maybe two minutes.
“Would you sit still already? I can’t check your ears when you keep moving your head.”
Ferdinand looks at him sideways, “Will you grab me by the beard like you did to the colonel?”
MD takes a quick look at Ferdinand and the beard he’s still growing out. “Why would I? You have nothing worth grabbing, unlike him.”
The corporal looks dumbstruck and Henri’s exam across the hall takes a little longer for Pat, as the woman can’t stop laughing. It turns out Ferdinand is - or was - very proud of his beard growth. The man keeps quiet the rest of the exam.
In hindsight, he should’ve done the colonel first, leave himself the excuse to get out of there quick. He’s suspicious as soon as he walks in the room: Balderich is sitting far too casually.
As he pulls over the small chair, he tilts his head and looks over the man on the bed. “You’re hiding something.”
The colonel splutters around the thermometer unceremoniously stuck under his tongue. “Me? You hid in your med bay after our chat this morning! I think it is you that is doing the hiding.”
“Stop talking, I need an accurate temperature. And I did not hide, I was working.”
“Yes, working through YouTube’s archive of cat videos.”
MD doesn’t deign to reply and starts looking around the room. It’s perhaps a little bigger than the rest, but… comfortable. Between the pictures on the wall and various small shelves full of odds and ends, it feels a little like his room back at the hospital.
He removes the thermometer after it goes off and records the reading. “Why do you have a stuffed animal?”
“Hm? Oh, that thing?” He points to the griffin plush on his dresser with the arm MD isn’t examining for muscle weakness. MD nods. “Ah, some of the idiots thought it’d be a good gag gift, a griffin for a griffin. Jokes on them, I like it. Any changes with them?”
“None so far, but we’ll keep checking. Look straight ahead.”
“Anyone give you issue?”
“Ferdinand tried to make a joke. Henri thought it was funny.” MD looks down to add a note to the data pad braced on his leg and pauses. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” Confusion quickly turns to shock when MD reaches between his legs. “What the--!”
“Aha!” MD crows when he pulls his prize out from under Balderich’s mattress: a small bag of licorice. “I seem to recall that you have a dietary restriction concerning these, sir.”
“I get cravings sometimes, I don’t eat that much!” He reaches for the baggie.
MD stretches and leans away from his grasping hands, amused despite himself. “You’re not supposed to be eating any. I knew you were hiding something!”
“Come on, be nice to me! It’s a little snack, it breaks up all the gruel I have to choke down.” Balderich stands, trying to use his size to advantage.
“I didn’t grab your beard again, did I? And this ‘little snack’ is part of why you’re still on that gruel.” MD gets squirrely, not staying still and slowly making his way to the door.
“And here I thought you were starting to like me.” One last feint attempt, and MD has the door open.
“Whatever feelings I may hold toward you are irrelevant. You still shouldn’t be eating these!” MD backs out of the room with his spoils and quickly makes his way down the corridor, calling back a cheeky “Good night, Colonel!”
Damn. Well he still has his stash, dwindled as it is now. Then something the omnic said registers and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Hm. Feelings, eh?”
***
MD is contemplating which of the men wouldn’t mind eating the licorice when he gets to his office. That train of thought is derailed, though, when he enters to find Pat sitting there, fidgeting. “Did something happen?”
“No, no, nothing happened. Oh, this is so dumb, Skimmer-12 and Jamiya convinced me to come down here, but it’s really not worth---”
“Did Andrea threaten you?”
Pat goes quiet with a sharp click for a few seconds. “No, but… he’s scary. Kept muttering about his hammer, and the way he looked at me… It felt like he was looking for targets.”
MD sits in his chair across from Pat. “And you want to get away from him.”
Pat nods, “But I know that just means one of you will get him, and that’s not fair!”
“I’ll take him. You can take von Adler in exchange; he’s sympathetic enough. Just threaten to grab his beard if he doesn’t stay still. And confiscate any licorice you find.”
“A-are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll transfer the file in a minute. You head back to your room.”
“Thank you, sir!” Pat scurries out of the medbay. Andrea is already starting to become a pain in the spinal cable, and he gets the feeling it’s only going to get worse from here if he doesn’t nip it in the bud. A little extra of his standard bedside manner should get the ball rolling.
***
Balderich is surprised to see one of the other omnics at his door the next morning, instead of MD.
“Did something happen?”
The omnic pauses, then chuckles. Did he say something funny? “Nothing of note, Colonel. I simply requested a patient exchange, and he gave me you.”
“Which one did he take?”
The omnic’s array does a rolling flash as they process a response. “I can’t tell you that, sir.” Andrea, then.
“I see. Well, let’s get this done then.” The new omnic nods and sits down to begin the exam.
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