#oc Novara

[handhourgalleries]

Portrait Commission for a FFxiv OC named Novara!

Looking like my last commission of the year. Think I did well. ;)

Ko-Fi Commissions || Full Commission Page

#Final Fantasy 14 #Final Fantasy xiv #FFxiv #FFxiv art #Commissioned art #Character portraits #Viera #Digital art #My art #Artists on tumblr #Handhourart

[thewhumpstuff]

D.I.S - Organized

Dispersal: Integrated-Squad. Organised and Mobilised

@badthingshappenbingo​​​ [Original Characters and content for -Dislocated Joint] Whumptober Day: No. 3 - My way or the highway - Manhandled, Forced to their knees, held at gunpoint [I couldn’t choose] [Art+Drabble] Ten Trails: Creature Feature (3)-Mob Violence [@yuckwhump​​]

CW/TW: Reference to a futuristic militaristic oligarchy. Dissent that fell into chaos. Power abuse. Art at the end features a man kneeling at gun-point and a woman forced to her knees.  [Please let me know if further warnings are necessary and I missed something.]

Locked arms and buckled knees. The rabble knelt by choice. Locked arms and buckled knees. The defectors knelt by force.

At the first shot and the slump of the blood-slick body - The barricade was broken. Those that craved the executions and those that wanted to see the practice abolished, flew at each other. What started as candle-flames to pay tribute, now raged as flickering fires of rebellion.

‘We need all hands on deck. Remember to stick with your unit.’ 

But Akira and Novara weren’t going to get a chance to stick with their units. They were going to fly solo, dropped into the thick of things to carve their own path. Nova’s voice was barely audible over the order that boomed repeatedly, it bloomed with a gentle concern. And that infallible sense of unwavering faith and hope, “This is a tough one to start off with… But you’re going to be fine.” Akira pursed her lips and looked down from their hovercopter at the chaos that ensued. There were armed folks on both sides. Some with juvenile weapons, others with more. Sticks, stones, knives and guns. She knew which side she’d be on, if the sides were still demarcated. If it still mattered… But it didn’t any more, there were no sides. Just the swell of a crowd. Some scurried into the mob, most scurried out. The streets were strewn with banners, the alleys were a-crawl with Acers, Q.B agents and the dissenting civilians alike. She was just a damn Cadet. Novara and Tariq were just Officers, just a rank higher. None of them were in uniform. She peered over at Tariq who piloted the hovercopter with a lazy finesse. He looked like he belonged there, with or without the uniform. Nova was preparing her tools, she had a little more on her hands, given that she was qualified to help with stabilization. She too, looked like she knew exactly what she needed to do. Would just another year and some experience change me too? Would I look the part as an Officer? Akira couldn’t get lost in thoughts for long, soon, it was her time to descend. The ’danger zone’ had been sectioned into smaller regions and then divided into smaller areas, the Acer’s were assigned their spots.

‘Remember only tag and aid the ones with the G.C sanctioned Pro-Body chips.’ 

Most folks in her assigned area had suffered minimal injuries. Additionally, the data from the Pro-Body Chips made the process fairly easy to manage. All she had to do was sync the information of her physical exam, perform basic first aid and update the code accordingly. The exam itself was difficult to conduct initially, but she soon found her rhythm. Then she came up on her very first problem. A woman lay slumped against the wall of an alley, barely conscious. Blood seeped out of her hairline and she issued soft whimpers with every breath. Next to her, crouched a bruised and beaten man. Like a deer caught in headlights, he looked up at Akira fearfully. She approached with caution, “It’s OK… I’m just going to take a look at you two. I’ll tag her and help will arrive shortly. Do you have any serious injuries too?” The man couldn’t have been much older than Akira, he almost draped himself over the woman as he put himself between her and Akira. The Acer paused, “Is there a problem?” His answer was raspy, “We’re not chipped.” It was her turn to recoil in a semi-conditioned response. They were taught to believe that those who were not chipped, were the enemy. Most dissenters who were not G.C registered civilians - that is, chipped and IDed, had already fled the area. This woman seemed incapable of doing so… And Aki couldn’t help but hold a fire in her heart for the young man who chose to stay behind with her. Technically, she needed to report him and potentially the woman, as soon as possible. However, Akira’s prejudice didn’t run as deep as some of the other Acers. She wasn’t trained as young. She saw those who didn’t comply with G.C protocols as people too. There were several back home in Sector 09.  She believed that she was capable of discerning a threat from… those who needed help. And as she came up on that decision, his words sounded like a challenge. Like a dare. This was her area right? She should have some jurisdiction. Enough to at least call this shot. She stood up straighter, convinced that there there was no one around to stop her either way, “She’s not going to make it if I don’t at least take a look… I’ll try get her to-” But there was. There were people here to stop her.

“Cadet. Step away from the fugitives.” Aki was annoyed that they were already labelled fugitives. Unless the man who had spoken had their faces on some docket somewhere. This person recognized her by rank, even without her uniform or ID. She didn’t know him. So, he was likely to be a fellow Acer, but not a colleague. Which could only mean he was a superior. Aki froze. Then she slowly turned to see who’d spoken. He looked like a civilian, but Akira knew how to recognize the bullet-proof fabric. He was likely to be a Major, or higher. A sneer marked his face. It looked like he was waiting to chance upon such an opportunity. And that became more apparent, when he didn’t wait to give Akira a reasonable chance to follow his directive. It seemed like less than a second had passed, and his hands were on hers. His grip was cruel around her wrists as he pinned her arms behind her back.

Akira knew better than to attempt attacking the man on instinct, mostly because, given the discrepancy in their training, she’d have no chance. But, she couldn’t resist the urge to flail and struggle. He twisted her arm with ease, in an attempt to force her to her knees. Defiance, just ran too thick in her blood. So she tried to reason with him through the gritty pain of her arm being wrangled, “Let go!” Needless to say, it didn’t work. Aki was briefly distracted by a lower ranking woman - she had an actual vest on, not the deceptive bullet-proof clothes - probably a Captain. This woman had a rifle levelled at the bruised man in the alley. The man was ordered to peel away from the wall and kneel too. He knew he was caught, so he did what he was told. Aki swore she saw tears glint in his eyes. They rolled off his cheek when the woman’s whimpers stopped. Feeling defeated and deflated as she shared a look with the alleged fugitive and Aki finally fell to her knees. She felt a sharp shooting pain upon impact with the ground, it ran down her leg and up her thigh. She teetered on the uneven cobbled-stone. Her kneecaps continued to protests, they ached and throbbed dully as the procession continued. The Major didn’t stop there, “You should think twice before being disobedient, don’t you know I could slap an insubordination charge on you?” In a swift motion and a brutish tug, he popped her shoulder. Purely to make a point, it would seem. Akira cried out rather boorishly. The Major let go of her and walked away as if nothing had happened. She folded into herself, stifling her groans. Her eyes were clenched shut as she winced in pain and clutched her dislocated arm with the other. The Captain cuffed the man and then kept him there, kneeling at gunpoint. Akira heard the Major making arrangements for the slumped woman to be bagged, as he left.

#whumptober2020 #no.3 #manhandling #forced to kneel #held at gunpoint #tw: implied mob violence #tw: reference to dissent #oc akira #oc novara #oc tariq #tempered grace #art #fic #whump

[abouttemperedgrace]

Novara Ricci | Personality

Time has come to share this lovely character's personality. She really is 'everything nice' and I'm not sorry. Mayhaps she takes it a little too far. But I swear, I know people like this - and they break and mend my heart everyday. Personality below the cut!

Novara Ricci bears the burden of a simple motivation: Save people. From hurt, from pain, from suffering, and even from death. But most crucially, sometimes from themselves.

Novara dedicates copious amounts of time to achieving her goal as literally as she can. Her ability to process information that will aid her in this venture, is off the scales. She’s generally sharp, but her genius is particularly amped when something that she is studying has a potential application in her field. Given the right guidance and resources, she certainly would be a major pioneer as a researcher. On a smaller scale, she already is. Her relationship with her work is devotional and pure. She is not conscious of mistakes or judgement and surrenders to the iterative process towards perfection - And yes, on some levels, she believes perfection is achievable. She is not too picky about where she gains her knowledge from and will never deny it. But given the opportunity she is very picky about how she uses her own. The only thing that distracts her from learning, theorising and experiment, is actively helping other people. She will always put aside her ambitions temporarily if she has the opportunity to help someone through her practice. Her skills and instincts combined make her an excellent and attentive medic. She’s keenly empathetic and takes a great interest in her patients. Though she is warm, she avoids getting too attached, for good reason. She fears attachment will exhaust her - which it will because all her usual tendencies are exacerbated for friends. However, she is rarely cold and clinical. Friendship and other relationships are a very intense bond. She’s invested, involved and loyal to a fault. The process of giving up on her personal goals, becomes more apparent for friends too. Novara will easily make drastic decisions involving her own life if she sees an opportunity to help or save someone she is attached to - Even if this lands her in inconvenient or detrimental situations.

While she’s not totally impulsive, she’s also not someone who will plan extensively. A loose plan of action is enough for her to jump in. This is because she doesn’t care to consider all outcomes. She just believes that there will be a good one... eventually. She has a deep-seated sense of hope. Her ability to continue hoping even through dire circumstances often becomes a pillar of strength.

Novara also believes in the good of people generally. She focuses on the positives of individuals and of groups. She certainly isn’t blind to the bad, but will glaze over it. It takes a lot of blatant evil for her to think someone or a group is irredeemable - and even then, she'll give them a shot more than once. It takes even more for her to hate and it can be easily reversed. If the body can be injured, so can the soul... and both can be repaired. She sees evil action and intention as symptoms of an underlying problem, something that can be fixed… In time, she has gathered that she can’t do it all. She can just try. Fix people and the world one at a time.

The combination of her beliefs and her practice leads to an optimism that is as brilliant as it is dangerous because it leads her to underestimate the dangers of situations she’s entering.

#writing #original character #character personality #Tempered Grace #Quill Writes #oc Novara Ricci

[curlykoalas]

I'm absolute trash and I can't help myself from making new OCs. This here is Novara Trevelyan, Archer from the Free Matches.

#dragon age inquisition #da:i #dai #da:i screenshots #my oc #my ocs #novara trevelyan #trevelyan

[lo-55]

Revel Ch. 1

In this life Victoria has always been one thing, and one thing only; pretty. She thought she was fine with that. She was wrong.

Katakuri/OC, pre-series

 Lift The Veil, and The Curtain Katakuri!                    

 King Lysander and his wife, the late Queen Dolce, Dogaressa of Soldano, had three children before her untimely demise some decade and a half past.

 There was Gemma, strong and cunning. Lucien, tenacious and unwavering. Then, there was Victoria. She was pretty.

 In all truth Victoria was the eldest, but the fact of the matter was that there was nothing to be said of her besides the fact that she was pretty. Even court gossip was stagnant around her.

 Gemma was a warrior born, fast and strong, a master of tactics and the human mind. It had been a decade since anyone had been able to beat her in a fight and history had been made when she was appointed General of Imperia’s army at barely fifteen years old. Under her brilliance their army and navy had grown to unprecedented levels and surpassed all generations before them.

 There was a small part of Victoria that blamed Gemma for this. And an even smaller part blamed their brother.  

 Lucien wasn’t as good at fighting as Gemma. He was far from a prodigy. Things didn’t come easy to her little brother, who had to struggle to perfect what came to easily to the two girls. Still, he worked harder than any of them, until he had earned their father’s respect, and the adoration of their people. He was not the youngest Legislature Paramount ever, but he had begun a legal reform that showed promise. The people adored him and his fair minded ways.

 Victoria di Imperia was not anything so impressive as her younger siblings. She was, simply, pretty.

 The daughter of a former Dogaressa of Soldano and the King of Imperia she had been expected to be brilliant. To be a leader for their people to follow in the era that lay ahead, where pirates reigned across the sea and the land was at constant change.

 She was none of those things.

 Victoria had never excelled at anything in this life. Her tutors praised her for      trying, her suitors patted her hand and complimented her hair.

 That was fine with her.

 Long before she was a princess Victoria had had her time as a genius, in a lifetime she only remembered vaguely after so long. What she did recall of being brilliant, the predistal that that had placed her upon,      well    . She had no wish to return there.

 Though, maybe if she had shown off more she wouldn’t have been where she was. Perhaps, if she had showed that she had worth beyond being a simple bargaining chip, she would not have been here.

 That is to say, in a palanquin bound for a place she really, really didn’t want to be going.

 A palanquin bound for her wedding.

 It was hot in the litter, sunlight bearing down on the trio that sat inside. Victoria withheld her complaints, it would do no good. She couldn't even fan her face, or she might misplace her hair or the garland of crystal flowers that lay within the six curls that crowned her, leading back to the carefully coiled waterfall at the back of her head.

 Traditionally she would have picked a garland of actual flowers from her parents garden the morning of her wedding for this, made up of myrtle, marjoram, and rosemary. The week she had spent on a boat before arriving in the city that morning made such a thing impossible. Instead she had worked with a jeweler and selected the gem and gold flowers that now graced her.

 The bouquet was marginally less important, so local flora was acceptable for that.

 At the moment, it lay in Aelia’s lap, where she sat to Victoria’s left, one of the two handmaidens that had accompanied her in it. The other four rode outside the palanquin dressed in leather soldiers armor.

 “All will be well, princess,” Madelle promised. All of the handmaidens were nearly identical to Tori. Madelle in particular was a little less beautiful now-a-days, but when she had been brought into royal service twenty years ago it had been perfect. Her glossy hair was blue-black in the way the sea was at night, her face was porcelain and any blemishes were skillfully hidden under face paint. As they grew older the differences, while still small, became more apparent. Where Madelle’s cheeks remained wide and fell into a narrow jaw Tori had kept her heart shaped face, with the puppy fat falling off of high cheekbones.

 With the right contouring they were still identical.

 If she had been attending a wedding with anyone less dangerous it would have Madelle wearing the white veil that day, but they couldn't afford to risk getting on the bad side of these people. So there Tori sat, her hands clasped in her lap.

 She knew she wasn’t supposed to move much, but she couldn't help pulling the curtain back to catch a glimpse of the building they were marching into. Her breath was stolen immediately. The New World was a weird place, but nothing would have prepared her for the sight of the Whole Cake Chateau.

 It was a massive creation shaped like a four tiered cake, with shingles that looked like frosting and trees that gave it the look of birthday candles. It towered above her, higher than any building in the Novara archipelago.  It dwarfed everything around it, from trees to the city that they had passed through on their way from the docks. A magnificent building that showed very easily who resided within in.

 They passed through the from door, which was easily big enough for the entire precession to walk through. Inanimate objects with very animated faces watched them pass, singing about their purposes in life in a rather demented fashion that set Tori’s brows into a furrow. Madelle cleared her throat and Tori let the curtain fall into place once more. She had to stifle her nervous giggling with a delicate clearing of her throat.

 She felt guilty when they began to ascend to the stairs, all the way up to the very highest floor. A garden on the roof, where the wedding would be held. The bearers of her palanquin were strong men, who were supposedly honored to carry their princess up to meet her groom. That didn’t mean that carrying three full grown women up nine flights of stairs was easy. If it wasn’t so improper she would have insisted on exiting the litter and walking herself, getting some of her nervous energy out and giving the poor men a break.

 However, her father was leading the train of Imperian royalty, and he would not have it. He gave his daughter's many liberties, but this was not a time where he could afford to differ from tradition.

 None of them, for their lives or for the lives of their people, could afford to slip up in this dangerous place.

 At last they crested the final step to a rooftop garden. She could hear the hard breathing of the litter bearers and the horses that had fit so easily within the enormous building. It was a miracle that some nervous tick didn’t pop up. Her lips were only just painted today, but still she did not bite them. Her hands were soft with lotions and her nails meticulously cleaned and tipped. She minded herself not to pick at them.

 Her head was held high and her gaze was fixed forwards as the litter came to a stop inside the courtyard. When the door opened she glided down the steps placed in front of her with a grace instilled in her from the day she was born into this world. Madelle and Aelia followed after in soft pastel yellow dresses that wrapped around their throats before falling formlessly to the ground.

 She did her best to keep her face smooth, even if it was hidden mostly behind the veil.

 Faces followed her as she walked slowly towards the grand doors. It was something that Tori was very familiar with.

 In truth, she was glad for her beauty. That was all people saw when they looked at her. They saw she was beautiful and that was all. Not even her own siblings had ever delved deeper. It gave her a type of freedom, liberated from the scrutiny her genius had earned her when she had been Victoria Iverson. Everyone had been watching her then, to see what Ivy League college she went to, to see what world changing career she chose.

 This was better.

 Sometimes it was lonelier, she would admit. Never had it been more evident than when she was walking down the aisle in front her new      family    .

 With all eyes on her, and Madelle falling further back as they neared the priest, Tori was filled with a sense of isolation.

 It was a credit to her father's rigorous lessons in geniality and manners that she didn’t trip over her long skirt when she saw who was standing at the head of the aisle. A second son. That was… not normal. She had been expecting the thirtieth, twentieth maybe. The second was preposterous.

 What was so important about her kingdom that she was to marry Charlotte Katakuri?

 Well. Her life just got more interesting.

 Tori turned a veiled smile up at him.

 From the depictions in the manga she’d read all those years ago she had expected him to look like live action Scrappy Doo. What she got instead was a man. An enormous one, true, but a man nonetheless.

 This did bring to mind a few… issues, they would have as man and wife. Standing in front of him at the alter she was well aware that she only came up to his mid drift, and that was in heels. Perhaps his devil fruit could shrink him. Or, given the fact that Gol D Roger was only four years dead and she and her husband were both in the middle of their twenties, maybe she would find that gum gum fruit for herself.

 Tori listened with half an ear for what the bishop was saying.      In sickness and in health. Until death do you part?  

 “I do,” she vowed.

 She managed not to tense when the massive man before her lifted the long veil from her. A few of the people gathered gasped at her face.

 She had heard some more romantic people refer to her as ‘enchanting’, ‘peerless’ and ‘artlessly’ beautiful. So she turned her most pleasant smile up at her new husband to prove them right. His eyes widened a faction before any thoughts faded from him.

 “You may kiss the bride,” the Bishop declared. Katakuri leveled him with a narrow eyed refusal. Tori had almost forgotten.

 He was sensitive about his mouth.

 Well, she could live with that.

 Victoria tugged his hand towards her, drawing his dark eyes back to his new wife. He let her lay her lips on the back of his hand.

 “There,” she smiled softly at him. “Will that suffice?”

 The bishop startled. “W-well. The man is meant to kiss the bride and-“

 “Fine,” Katakuri lowered himself. Tori was truly surprised. He wouldn’t pull his scarf away just like that, right?

 Right. He pulled her hand up and, maneuvering her with a grip tight enough to warn her not to do anything foolish, guided her fingers behind the cloth. She felt the barest imprint of a mouth before her hand was pushed away and he stood up. She saw nothing of his mouth. No one did.

 As one they turned the challenge to the bishop, daring him to contradict them.

 He was sweating profusely when he nodded quickly.

 “I now pronounce you man and wife!”

 Cheers erupted around them. Someone called for the wedding cake. While they ran off Victoria turned away from her husband to watch the line that was made up of Madelle, Aelia, her sister Gemma, a few ladies in waiting and a handful of courtisans that had come with her. After a bit of prompting from Civilla, her cousin, the Charlotte girls joined the line as well, looking confused.

 Perhaps it was a tradition native only to her island, as opposed to the whole world?

 Whatever the case Victoria walked to each of them in turn, kissed a flower from her bouquet of stephanotis, and carefully wrapped the vine around the wrist of each unmarried woman she passed.

 “What are these for?” a rather unfortunate looking girl asked. A scar cut across her face, between her eyes and down the left. She was… Brulee. That was it. It had been many years since Victoria had seen One Piece. It was one of the few things she really tried to remember from her old self, seeing as how relevant it would be in a couple of decades.

 “For a happy marriage,” she explained. “It’s a tradition.”

 “A happy marriage… You don’t need to give one to me,” Brulee told her. Victoria came so close to tilting her head. The only thing that stopped her was a dozen of diamond drops in her carefully piled hair.

 “Ah, if you don’t want to get married they can also instill the desire to travel. Good for pirates, right?”  

 “Don’t you see this scar on my face? It’s horrible. I wouldn’t get married happily,” she said all of this with a smile that was frankly unnerving.

 “Well,” Victoria considered her words. “Just don’t marry a shallow person. Love has a way of dismissing imperfections. So keep the flower, please? For luck.”

 “What would you know about imperfections?” one of the other girls challenged. Tori hadn’t been planning on having a conversation like this. This was way too deep for a first meeting.

 So, she smiled at them in a way that made glitter look dull.

 “Me? Nothing at all.”

 She moved on, to the smallest girls, two little pink haired twins that got the very last of her bouquet. At the same time the cake was rolled in, bigger than anything that Tori had ever seen. Her Miss Congeniality mask slipped with her shock at the sight.

 Brulee pushed her, not roughly, towards the table where Big Mom sat with her sons.

 Tori lifted her skirts quickly to join her husband. Her father sat on her other side, looking the king he was in his fine suit and his golden crown. A small gold tiara sat in her own hair, with an identical stone as the one set in her fathers. A ruby.

 Looking at the spread of deserts Tori found herself with a dilemma.

 She was allergic to gluten. She couldn't eat anything in front of her.

 Victoria thinned her lips to keep from laughing aloud. She was allergic to gluten, married to the minister of flour, and her favorite dessert was Mochi.

 That was a problem that was easy enough to remedy. Married women in Imperia did not eat before their husbands, and given the fact that Katakuri wasn’t going to eat period in front of all of these people she was at no risk of having to eat anything in front of her.

 For the rest of her wedding Tori watched other people eat, laugh and dance while she sat next to her stoic husband, struggling not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

 What an interesting life this was!

~

 When she came to understand who her husband was, she was struck with so many questions it was enough to make her head spin right off her shoulders, if she wasn’t careful. So blindingly fast did they fly through her brain that she was barely aware that she had been escorted the whole way to the bridechamber.

 Katakuri, who was not soft spoken but rather rarely spoke at all, brought her the whole way without touching her once. He hadn’t made any contact since they had been wed, not through the reception and not on the brief trip between islands that took them to Komugi.

 She had barely looked at the bizarre landscape they passed when they arrived, that was how preoccupied she was. Even the giant donut with a face wasn’t enough to draw her from her contemplations.

 She didn’t know if she was nervous or not when it came to the idea of consummation. She wasn’t even sure if it would happen. If it did, would Katakuri keep his scarf up the entire time? Or perhaps he would insist that they turn out the lights? He might even blindfold her.

 Now      there    was a thought.

 Tori offered him a nod of thanks for his graciousness and stepped inside. The room was massive, as one might expect, though sparsely furnished. Her wardrobe would fit easily in the space of the of his hulking armoire. From here she could see the door to the bathroom open, and the tub inside.      That    was something she would enjoy.

 The one thing that was truly off about the room was utter lack of anything personal. It was spartan perfection and spotless. Not ever a stray spiked boot.

 She looked up at her husband, mouth poised with a question.

 “This will be your room,” he said without promptly. “You are the lady of this house, you will be treated as such. If you are not, inform me. Goodnight.”

 He was gone before Tori could gather her words.

 For a long moment she stared at the closed door. Even though she knew he was self conscious and that there was a chance that they would do nothing, actually doing nothing on her wedding day was more than surreal. She had been preparing herself for months to settle for whomever she was coupled with and let her new husband do as he pleased that night.

 To be doing nothing…

 Tori looked around the room, pulling at drawers and testing the bed. It was evident that it was meant to be shared between her and Katakuri, seeing as everything there was twice the size of any furniture she would use.

 Yet, her husband had left her to her own devices, given her her own room and disappeared into the massive mansion she was now to call home.

 All because he was shy.

 Tori couldn’t help it. She started giggling uncontrollably.

 That was- that was cute!

 Her strong pirate husband, feared son of an emperor, future holder of a billion beri bounty, was cute!

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #original character #oc #victoria di Imperia #katakuri #charlotte Katakuri #katakuri x oc #princess oc #arranges marraige #reincarnation

[tommeurs]

Basilica of San Gaudenzio, Novara, Italy [OC] [550x844]

#architecture #design #awesome

[philosibies]

Basilica of San Gaudenzio, Novara, Italy [OC] [550x844] via /r/ArchitecturePorn https://www.reddit.com/r/ArchitecturePorn/comments/fa6vwb/basilica_of_san_gaudenzio_novara_italy_oc_550x844/?utm_source=ifttt

#architecture #aesthetic

[cozycreatives]

Basilica of San Gaudenzio, Novara, Italy [OC] [550x844] https://ift.tt/2T21MDo

#cozy places #cozy #aesthetic #houseporn #dream house #home decor #architecture #interior design

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [28]

[CW: References to gore, leading up to some descriptions involving eyes, fingers and needles. References to an OC held captive.]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 3)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Eyeronies.

The carpet under her feet was so soft and still felt like a sheet of coals. This study… His study was a place of nightmares. She tiptoed in front of the bookshelf, fiddling with the book that held the slot for some sort of a key-card. Nova knew Zizi could not hear her and yet, illogically she spoke in reassurances.

“I’ll get you out. I will! You’ll be fine, I promise.” Nova was trying to latch onto her own dwindling sense of hope. The weight of one life lost had already been too heavy to bear.  “... Can’t go to Aki or Jared right now…”

Nova had exhausted herself trying to access the room. It now presented as a dangerous conundrum. She paced and then curled up by the bookcase that stood propped against the heavy door to the hidden chamber. Despite its perturbed nature, slumber held Nova in its grips for the whole following day. She woke with a start. The room looked exactly like it had, but she could tell precious time had been lost. Unwelcome as it had been, the rest provided her with courage and clarity. No, I must do this on my own. I can do this. -

The advantage of being a sniper was knowing where to be, where to aim and when to shoot. Vivi sat in the pitch-black cell, out of her own free will in absolute silence, even her breathing mingled with the quietude of the night.

And it was that sound, of the inhale and exhale that divulged the location of the occupant in the cell next to her. She could hear the indignation in every draw of air that Ezekiel took. He was cornered, disgraced and resolute in his lack of protests. Perhaps, he was still in denial. Or maybe he thought active resistance was beneath him. This was somewhat impressive. For a whole night and a day, since Eze’s arrest, he had had no visitors. No one knew she was there, she lurked when she could, usually slinking into the cell, into her spot past sunset. After the arrival of Jared fanned the fire in the blonde and drove him to cross new lines, Vivi was left intrigued. It vexed her that she knew of the ex-second-in-command but had never bothered to know him.

Better late than never.

The sharp clanging of the bars had shattered the eerie tranquillity that was unwittingly shared by the free and the imprisoned, by the witness and the witnessed. And it irritated Vivi. But did not compel her to make her presence known. “I hope you’re happy Eze!” “Revenge is a petty look on you, T… But you wear it oh-so-often” The sniper could make out that Tariq’s quest for vengeance was rather hollow. It was his frustration and a keen sense of guilt that added an untrammelled ferocity to the way his baton struck the only thing keeping him from breaking his friend. He managed to speak over the din, “You best hope I don’t find a way in Eze...” The east-facing cells had painfully antiquated technology securing them. In Q.B.’s defence, a security upgrade was futile when no prisoner had attempted a breakout from these cells. There was nowhere to go from here, where they would not be found. Vivi could help Tariq find his way in with ease, a part of her was curious to see if his words were a bluff. But she waited. That lilt of betrayal that made Tariq sound so wounded, just made Eze scoff. According to him, Tariq latched onto being the victim of duplicity, so he did not have to face being the passive perpetrator. He had turned a blind eye too and conveniently; accepted too many things at face value. And acted upon them. Ezekiel felt safe behind the bars, safe behind the curtain of the title he once had, even though it was now lost. They can’t hurt the ex-SiC. “Why, do you miss it? Being in here? I’m certain you’ll do something to find your way back soon enough. Now that you don’t have me protecting you.” The bars were rattled. How dare he suggest that he was protecting me? And the rattling stopped abruptly. A lone figure approached, this one Vivi had not been expecting. She tucked a strand of her freshly dyed pink hair behind her ears and remained lurking in the safe shadows of her open cell. She sat up straighter as she watched the frail silhouette pass her. “Nova?” Nova had already noticed Tariq before he called out. The BioHacker was still in the black bodice and leggings. She looked like a lithe, black cat… carrying bad news and bad luck. She wanted to do this alone, but she could not turn tail now. This was a time sensitive matter. She would have to deal with whatever judgement followed when Tariq learned about Zizi. She swallowed and ignored the ex-squadron leader, her voice was a whisper and directed at the man in the cell. “Eze, I need to let her out.” The blonde spoke over her, deliberately. “Aww… My SuperNova, I expected you sooner. Are you enjoying having the house all to yourself?” His drawl had only worsened with his circumstance. He knew she was not alone in what used to be his home. She stiffened and cleared her throat.   Tariq’s confused questions found words. “Let who out? From where?” Everybody he knew was safe…  She ignored him again. “Please, just tell me how, Eze…” Even a state of disgraced imprisonment, her pleading, especially when it was so genuine, was like music. He teetered to the bars and hung onto them. If Tariq could not see the gravity of the moment and if he had not been distracted by the unanswered questions, his baton would have broken the pale clutching fingers. Ezekiel couldn’t help taunting her, she made it so easy.    “Do say that again, SuperNova… I so dearly miss you begging.” Two pairs of amber eyes pinned Eze, one set desperate, one livid, just like he liked them. He laughed, even with his back against a wall and in a cell, Ezekiel knew how to play them. He still had cards up his sleeve. The golden eyes averted and found each other instead. Tariq searched for an explanation in her features. Nova realised that there was no point in hiding it anymore. She looked at the floor of the cell as she answered, guiltily.   “He is keeping a woman in a hidden room against her wishes. I can’t find a way to let her out…” Ezekiel was smart to step away and take his hands off the rods, just as the baton clanged against where his digits had been moments ago. Tariq’s gaze darkened considerably. The blonde clicked his tongue and smirked. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.” 

“She’ll die.” Nova stated, as though that would change anything. It did not. Ezekiel shrugged. “And whose fault would that really be?” Tariq gave up on the man he had once called a friend and offered a naive solution. “Why can’t we report this, Nova? I’m sure someone will find a way…” Ezekiel receded deeper into his cell, his voice echoed in the dingy room as shadows and soft light made his features appear more menacing than ever. “Yeah, SuperNova, tell him why you can’t report this. Because it was not me who used her for experiments now, was it? The same ones that allowed her to fix you and Kira by the way, T.”  I just wanted to find a way to help her before she was handed off to authorities. Nova did not trust Q.B. to be able to handle Zizi’s life with the sensitivity she thought it would require. But between life and discomfort, Nova’s choice for herself and for the people around her had always been obvious. Life. It’ll be difficult, but at least she’ll live…  I do not care what happens to me… Nova’s thoughts only served as a reminder that there may be no other way. Before Tariq could fathom the implications of what Ezekiel just shared, her clear voice cut through his thoughts like broken glass. “We can. We should just report it, we must, in fact. I don’t care what they do to me. I don’t want her dying in there. Who should I go to? Who would be able to help her best?” Nova seemed to have convinced herself already and now was bolstering her spirit and coming to terms with this being the only option if there was no way to make Ezekiel give up the information on how to get into the room. They will have to believe me if what I say implicates me and I tell them anyway, right? Nova had surrendered herself to this option in her mind, she needed to act. Zizi is not dying on my watch. I will find a way. Some way. Any way.   Tariq was certain that there was more to it than he knew. This was something she probably did not want to do. Nova was driven, but the tendencies Tariq had seen did not reconcile with the picture Ezekiel painted. You are not fooling me anymore, Eze. He knew Nova would willingly suffer for something she did not have to suffer for, just for the life that was at stake here. She shared that trait with him… Just like Akira did. “There must be another way.” The conundrum was infectious and now had its claws in him.   “There is.” Vivi’s voice startled both Tariq and Nova in equal measure, Tariq visibly recoiled and then drew himself into a stance to strike. The BioHacker was better at stifling the jump. He did not strike when he saw the bubble-gum hair emerged from the neighbouring cell, “What the fuck, Viv?” Tariq was ignored again. A trio now pooled outside Ezekiel’s cell. “Eze… This certainly doesn’t have to do anything with that private Biometric ScanLock you had me work on, does it?” Vivi’s voice sounded like she was reciting a moving poem. The Blonde’s absolute silence was an answer. There was no sneering now. Anna’s scalpel flashed in the pale moonlight as Vivi twirled it in her fingers. Only the sniper spoke and asked the questions now. “Nova, you do know where this room and the scanner is, right?” The medic wearily nodded. Vivi described the gadget she had created for Ezekiel a few months ago. Nova confirmed with another small nod, that it was the scanner tucked away in a book on the bookshelf that covered the hidden door.  “You can’t - you can’t get in here.” Ezekiel tried; his voice finally faltered. Vivi removed a small device from her satchel and let it snap onto the lock of the cell with a soft click. A few beeps followed and then another click - The cell door swung open. Ezekiel’s back was already against the wall—literally now, he had scurried to the very back of the small cell on instinct as he spewed the promises of unpleasant consequences. “They’ll know! They’ll know! You will all land up here for taking matters into your own hand.” “Well you did say I’ll wind up in here, anyways right? At least it’ll be worth i-” Vivi’s fingers found Tariq’s shoulder as he spoke and was about to step in. He shrugged her hand off. He had still not forgiven her for what she did to Akira. But he did wait. The sniper spoke exclusively to Nova in a whisper. The silence let Tariq catch a few of the hushed questions. ‘Iris… print... serum healing?’ Nova had resorted to using only nods.  “Then no one has to know…” Vivi finished. Uncharacteristically, she waited for Nova to confirm that the plan was fine. Nova’s eyes went wide, then narrowed… And then she closed them and drew a breath. As usual, when she opened them again, there was a newfound resolution in them. She stood up straighter, squaring her delicate shoulders like a warrior and she used words again.  “If it must be done and there is no other way...” 

The plan was relayed to Tariq in his entirety. The soft peal of Anna’s giggle haunted the man inside the cell as much as the dark gratification in Tariq’s amber eyes. But the sight that truly chilled him to the bone, was Nova’s indifference. She did not avert her eyes. Not as Tariq easily overpowered the blonde and held him down, not as Anna’s scalpel made the cuts. Three agents walked into the prison and came out with the things they needed to free Zizi. The night bore witness to the howls of a man who had taken so much pleasure in drawing them out of others in the past. - Much later that night, Novara carried a small silicone satchel, a couple of bottles of BuzzBo and a larger bottle of water to the cell. To his cell. He sat in a corner, slumped onto the floor exactly where Tariq, Vivi-Anna and she had left him. A roughly tied makeshift bandage futilely sought to wipe the tear of blood his wounded eye cried, it only left more red streaks in its wake. The wrapped stump was oozing its own share. His injured eye remained clenched shut and hidden behind the cage of the four fingers that remained attached to the hand. The left half of his face was shrouded in the streaks of crimson and the other half was graced by the soft pale light of the moon. The contrast was as striking as it was scary… And it did nothing to deter the BioMedic standing outside his cell.

“You… fucking bitch.” He spat in a pained hiss. She didn’t respond and crouched to carefully set the bottles she had procured onto the floor of the cell through the thin dark poles. He did not make any motions towards her. He could not, not with the intention to harm anyway. “Do you want them back?” She asked and pursed her lips. “You… you’re just burying evidence, you-” His curses were lost in a pained whisper. It was her turn to shrug. She did not care, a part of her wanted him to deny the help and reconstructive healing. She knew he would not. He cared about appearances way too much and cared about perfection even more. Now it was only a matter of time for him to decide what he was willing to endure for it. She repeated her question, slower. Her tone was ever so slightly patronizing. “Do you want them back?” She had already begun to draw the serum into the syringe. He swallowed and looked at her. Disgusted at the predicament he was in. “Yes.” He croaked. Perhaps, in some other universe, Nova would have found it within her to make him beg for it. The large needle glinted menacingly. She did not enter the cell. All the experiments had certainly allowed her to iterate things and learn. The method was mad, but it taught her to be precise, in practice and in instruction.   She did not need to instruct; he knew about it all too well, too. After all, he had made it a point to witness the process. After indirectly being the reason, it was required to begin with… Repeatedly.

For Zizi, for Akira and for Tariq… She did not need to instruct him, but she pointedly did. And there was something powerful in watching actions follow her words, for once. He slipped the bandage off and stumbled to the front of the prison. “C-can you s-ee?” Panic and uncertainty tumbled out of his lips. A trembling hand was hoisted up the horizontal spoke. “Well, Anna isn’t here… So, you’ll have to take your chances.” He did not call her SuperNova now, when she truly was being super. The needle teetered. “We should probably start with the eye; it’ll require you to stay… stiller.” The single eye that stared at her, shed a bitter, fearful tear. She stared on, almost like she could not see him. “Hold it open and try not to move.” The ruby eye squinted inwards, watching the needle as his thumb and forefinger, and hers (Nova’s work ethic did not allow her to be entirely irresponsible), held the other one open.  They had to scoop out his cornea and iris, the oddly reflective lens lurked behind the wound. Nova steadied herself, which was easier than she had anticipated. Carefully she inserted the needle into the pinked and bloody white, deep enough to reach the right targets. Once, twice and then another few times. Ezekiel had just become the first human subject to have the serum tried on his eye. There certainly was a poetic eyerony, to that. Hopefully, this works. Most probably, it will... There is a chance it may not. They both thought. Till the agony wiped any thoughts from Eze’s mind.

On this rare occasion, Nova didn’t care too much if she happened to fail. The only reason she wished it didn’t, in some capacity was not for herself, or for him... But for everyone else involved in helping her. They deserved better than to get into trouble for this. The gruff cry that his lips issued, rose to a screech then to a siren-like wail. It would only get worse. He fell to his knees, leaving crimson trails on the bars as his grip slackened.  “Please… please come back for the thumb… Please… I cannot take it. Please SuperNova.” He should have stuck to not calling her that. The name he had called her for so long and in such a derogatory manner, was spoken with sincerity, but that did not matter. It slipped out of his lips before he could stop himself, maybe if it had not, she would have found herself to be merciful. “I’m not coming back here, no one is.” She said that with a heartfelt conviction. “So, now, or never.”  Four jittery fingers rose to grip the horizontal bar again, pale and weak. A needle found its way into the stump. The night would continue to bear witness to the excruciating process required to fix a broken man.

[Category - 2] Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam, @straight-to-the-pain [My attempt at eye/finger stuff is back!]

#eye gore whump #fingore whump #bad guy gets it good #referenced captivity #some revenge #oc Tariq #oc Novara #oc Vivi-Anna #oc Ezekiel #you and I me and you

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [31]

[CW: References to: Human trading/trafficking, implied non/dubcon in the past. Vivianne (Vivi-Anne/a) presents with a constellation of personality traits and identity-defining choices/compulsions that are unique to her and this world. (Attributed to her past and involving experiments with sci-fi drugs) She does NOT represent any disorders or conditions] 

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 6)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Fooled Around?

Today, there was something comforting about the consistency of the concrete around him as he ambled to the cafeteria. The grey was there. It was solid, assuring and necessary. He did not know the compound well and kept an eye out for signs that could guide him. A platoon marched by; he ignored the cohort of people as much as they ignored them. Jared was grateful for the shroud of darkness. In his black tracksuit, he was just some agent – and not the Red Knight.   He processed the argu- discussion with Shira. He was not wrong, and neither was she. Cepheus had challenged him similarly a mere night ago. Jared was not fully conscious of just how much agency he had lost. Just how many choices were made through him, but not completely by him and almost never for himself. Of how many times… he had chosen silence and still did. And yet, Akira wanted to be with him, with whatever he was... Who am I anyway? 

And yet, the commander general of Q.B. was willing to trust him with the post he offered. Anyone is a big step up after Ezekiel though. Jared could not really seek any assurance from that. But he did want to make things work. He did want to find a way through all this. He could see more of Akira’s reasoning, but pieces of her were missing. Parts of her that he knew of, but had not held, had not really seen. Akira probably felt the same way. His parts were skeletons in his closet. Her parts felt tamer, easier to behold. Just then, Jared’s cursory gaze found the sleek bubble-gum hair. No, her parts were not all that tame either. Perhaps, she did have her own skeletons too. People here at Q.B. had ‘scarred-and-marked’ her just as much as Scar-and-Mark, me, right? Vivianne was a reminder that Akira had suffered in unexpected ways too. And in ways that he had seen at the hands of Ezekiel. Suddenly, in his head, he was the victim and advocate for SpecSyn and she was the victim and representative for Q.B, as he grappled with his options. He did not mean for it to become this way. He also did not need any signs to his destination anymore. His gaze never left the striking pink hair and strode towards Vivi, in a quick pace. His steps fell before his reason and mind had a chance to catch up. “You.” Vivi responded to many things, but ‘you’ certainly was not one of them. She had strolled into the cafeteria with more of a purpose than she usually did, and that distraction kept her from spotting Jared, or attributing any significance to his call. “Vivianne.” She whipped around already correcting the caller sharply as he graduated from you to her full name. “Just Vivi – Oh! If it isn’t The Red Knight himself!” She had not been seeking him, but he felt like a good find. Vivi felt obligated to tell him about Zizi, it did involve Novara after all. She had gathered they were friends. Plus, it looked like Tariq could use the help. But Jared had other matters on his mind. The cafeteria was too crowded, and a few people had already started staring after her loud greeting. The conversation he wanted warranted some privacy. “Follow me.” Vivi did not have to. She did not usually respond to orders outside of combat and Jared held no rank here. Not yet, not that she knew of the offer at all. But she did. Out of curiosity. Easily distracted, she fell off course quickly. His hands were fists in his pocket. It was difficult to remain collected through the surge of his flaring temper. He kept careful distance as they rounded into an alley behind the cafeteria. “So, you like playing with knives and cigarettes then?” His tone was deliberately flat. He wanted answers and explanations, not revenge. But he did want to see some consequences. And he ought to know how things happen if he was to take up SiC. He had seen a glimpse of Vivianne’s flair in the bus, it did not take a genius to see her odd sense of fascination. And, one way or another, despite what she had done, she had also potentially saved Akira’s life.  Doesn’t make it ok though. Vivi cocked her head and corrected him again, “Anna, likes to play with her scalpel. I suppose I like knives sometimes… and cigarettes. From what I have heard, so do you.” Jared took a deep breath and really could not tell if she was being deliberately obtuse. “On people?” “Yes. On people… for you too, right? You don’t happen to have one on you, do you?” She sounded excited, like the least he could do was offer some sort of kinship and share a smoke. She leaned against the wall behind her and propped her foot on it casually. And then she went on almost like she was judging him. He missed it entirely.   “Anna and I usually only use those when someone wants it or needs it though… Like that time in the bus. And…” “Yes, but Shira didn’t want it.” He replied hotly and he was curt. She let out something between a snort and a churlish giggle. “Didn’t stop you either… from what I’ve heard…” It took him a moment to make the connection. Eze must have divulged his knowledge about the SpecSyn training debacle. That stupid day is going to haunt me forever. I should not have… At least it would always serve as a good reminder for him to never cross lines again. As tempting as it felt right now. In that spirit, he took another step back. She was good at filling the silence the space left between them, answering the unasked questions.   “The day you came along… She didn’t want things anymore…” Vivi lamented, like he was in some way responsible for what happened. And like she had not expected him or her little act of vengeance to put a damper on things the way that they had. Jared blinked. “You… you two-” “Fooled around? Yeah. And I promise, she liked it. Her response to fear…” She smacked her lips together and winked. She had diminished what she shared with Akira because it felt unattainable now. Vivi did still hope that it had something to do with everything else that happened. There was too much that had happened. She did not linger on it though, because she was in a good mood after having dealt with Ezekiel, – who did largely seem responsible for this… everything else.   Him! That woman… “Oh! I think Novara and Tariq need a little help… and… someone else.” The blankness on Jared’s face was instantly replaced with concern and fury. His clenched fingers tightened in his pocket and he could not help but close in now. There was still some hesitancy in his steps. His palm rested on the wall next to her, he was dangerously close to doing something he would regret. Vivi was entirely unnerved and unperturbed. She was rather hooked onto the various emotions that danced across his face and was not scared of the one that had settled for the time being, like others would be, perhaps.  “Vivianne, I swear if you did-” She cocked her eyebrow, still unfazed and likely to remain so. “Just Vivi! And calm down Mister, I had little to do with it. I’m actually trying to help… I need to get food.” Most people didn’t take so long to fathom Vivi-Anna as Vivianne’s preference. A pricked Vivi slipped by Jared, ducking under his hand and walking towards the cafeteria. He let her and followed; his urgency not reflected in her motions. “Apparently… Eze had some woman locked in a hidden room and Nova experimented on her or something…” Her words this time, were soft. She was smart enough to remain out of earshot. Jared stopped walking. Vivi turned to look back at him with impatience. “I need to get food for her… Are you going to join me, or not?” Jared did not expect someone to be more practical than him in the face of crisis. He was more worn than he wanted to admit. He nodded and followed in a hurry as she brought some bottles. “This woman… Is she fine?” Wrapped, in mentally flipping through all the implications of what Vivi had just shared, Jared forgot that he was meant to be buying food too. But, Jared was not going back to Akira anymore, he needed to find out more about what happened. “Not injured at least externally… Unless you count the missing arm and leg. But she is weak… And hungry, I think. Should probably have someone MediScan her…” Jared’s mind scoured through possibilities given what Vivi shared. She led him towards Ezekiel’s house, he tried to prompt her into hurrying, it did not change much.   The grandiosity of Ezekiel’s homemade Jared nauseous. Q.B. sure had spared a lot for him. From a political point of view, it made sense. Ezekiel had become as much a face for them as Jared had been for SpecSyn. And Ezekiel brought in hard cash and good deals for the military. Post-Supremacy, Jared’s contributions felt lacklustre—a spyware designer and a shitty mentor… Regardless of whether he had been good or bad, Jared did not see himself making the kind of demands Ezekiel clearly had. “Where was he keeping her?” Vivi clammed up for the first time. Not out of guilt or fear, but simply because she was not sure what details were safe to share with Jared, regarding their adventures with Ezekiel. “Oh, just in some hidden room… I managed to hack the lock.” She still spoke with an effortlessness that did not leave Jared in doubt. So that is what she meant by help. “I don’t really need to be here right? You’re here… and…” Vivi handed him the drinks as she sought to make herself scarce, the fun parts were all done. BuzzBo could use a new advert – A drink for all your malnourishment needs. Briefly, Jared was irked that he was the last to find out about this. That somehow, Nova had involved Tariq and Vivianne, but not him. Then he realised that he had not exactly left himself accessible. In the past this would feel worse than it did. For a moment though, a certain part of him ached in concern for Akira. Enough to hesitate but not enough to abandon what felt like his duty.

Jared paused and scanned the slice of the study room visible through the frame of the door. The books in the shelf to the left were slightly jostled and Nova knelt in front of him. She sat like a statue, like any movement would result in some catastrophe. Jared did not make his way inside yet. He rapped at the door softly to draw her attention. Their eyes met. The ex-SpecSyn BioHacker practically leapt off her spot on the carpet, her eyes darting deeper into the room for a second, before she approached him on padded feet and pulled him away from the threshold of the study. Tariq noticed and followed her, pausing when he noticed Jared. He waited within earshot. “You have to understand he made me-” She drew a shaky breath. He was about to reassure her. “Her… her name is Zizi. I… Excuse me.” As selfish as it seemed, he almost stopped her, only so that he could ask her to check in on Akira. But Nova left in a rare, seemingly self-indulgent hurry. She never asked for anything for herself, much like him. It was apparent that she had been through a lot, so Jared could not possibly hold this against her.   Little did he know that Novara was on her way to Ezekiel. To fix him, which he did not deserve, but in a way that he would not forget in a hurry. [Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam]

#context focus #plot focused #I just wanted Jared and Vivianne to square off #oc Jared #oc Vivi-Anna #oc Novara #oc Zizi

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [29]

[CW: References: Gore from a previous part, human trade, human experimentation, human trafficking. Broken fingers, baton injuries. Features an amputee OC who was held captive (being rescued).]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 4)

[<– Previous] ~ [Next –>]

Would you rescue me?

The small flecks of blood did not stain the carpet, for the tufty textile was crimson itself. Good thing Ezekiel had a fascination with that color.  A freshly, but carefully plated and mounted ruby iris was scanned by a device wedged in one of the books from the bookshelf.  Then the pale, detached thumb. Something that sounded hydraulic tugged against the bookshelf. Having successfully aided in the venture, Vivianne retreated to the bathroom, her scalpel needed some tlc. Nova dropped the book with the Biometric ScanLock and fell to her knees. Relief and anxiety found her in equal measure. It was Tariq who stood at attention, keenly following the motion of the thick fake wall as it slid into a slot and revealed a glass-panelled room—If one could call it that.

The hidden room was basically a water closet with a metal gurney, that lacked a mattress and presumably served as a bed, nonetheless. A small screen was hoisted onto the wall on the other side. Tariq did not notice any of that. Just the, tall, figure garbed in a pale, thin robe. Her right arm was missing, just below the elbow. And her left leg above the knee. They looked like old injuries, with the leg being more recent. From a cursory glance, it looked like she had experience with a host of different kind of prosthetics, though she wore none now. Tariq knew of agents who had lost limbs on the frontlines, that was not what upset him too much. She could have had the frame of a warrior instead, the voluptuous woman lay there, weak and debilitated. It was the evidence of chronic suffering… that daunted Tariq.

She had lost more than just her parts. Despite the gaunt of her cheeks, the malnourished sleekness of her form, she still had an almost aberrant exuberance to her umber skin. An internal incandescence that slipped out of her being. And there was mistrust and fear. In the two emerald eyes that looked up at him, with a depth to them that he could sink in. She looked as lost as Tariq felt. Zizi searched his face for features and expressions she recognized. She did not. No one had visited her for almost three nights, and she was grateful. Except for the hunger clawing at her insides. She had been surviving on the water from the tap by the gurney. This man is new. He fell to his knees, hoping that it will make him come off as less domineering and shuffled towards her. This man is doing new things too. Perhaps he moved too fast and spooked her. Perhaps he should have really weighed everything she had gone through… She slunk away from him on instinct. Inching away to the spot somewhere beneath the screen. And started muttering fervently. Tariq could not make out the words, but he could make out a certain rhythm. It tugged at him in ways he did not think possible. She had her knees pressed to her chest; face buried within. All he could see was the mass curls and the constellation of freckles on the skin that peeked from under the strands. She went on, the silence apart from her disjointed lyrical sounds was so stark, Tariq had no choice but to latch onto each one as he got closer. “Empty promises, empty threats, empty lies and empty beds.” They sounded accusatory and familiar. But also seemed to be paper weights for the woman’s consciousness. And each syllable cut.  What the fuck did Eze do? Tariq had a grim idea based on what Ezekiel had suggested and the poignant guilt that lurked in Nova’s features… and her reticence. He looked around the room again, this time letting the dullness of it settle into his being. It triggered a whole wave of memories. It looked like the hate-child of a drab hospital room and a prison cell. The whole situation triggered memories of the series of unfortunate events, orchestrated by someone he called his friend. He looked over his shoulders at Nova’s crumpled kneeling, then back at the woman in front of him and flashes of Akira, falling off the pole… kneeling on stage… tainted his memories. Knife… Gun… Scalpel… Batons… Holding Cell… Poles… Whips… Syringes and Needles… Cards… And now this. He suppressed a shudder. Get. A. Grip. This is not about me. I must get her out of this room. He had stopped thinking about how-could-hes, pertaining to Ezekiel. Now, it was more about damage management.  He backed up, creating some distance between them again. She watched him flit closer and away. Reacting to her like like-sided magnets and sized him up. He looked like someone who could hold his own in a skirmish, which was no surprise given he was in Q.B. attire. If he has access to this room, he must be one of Ezekiel’s lackeys, right? He caught her staring at the weapons and implements, his toolkit to subdue a criminal. He really did not want to come off as a threat, he raised his hands slowly, trying to signify safety and peace before reaching for the cuffs. She tensed a little and offered side-eye. He began plucking off the weapons hooked onto his belt – Prod-baton, holster and then cuffs and left them on the floor in a pile. This made her stop rapping. Lyrics she had penned a long time ago, words that had cost her then and continued to cost her now. She tried to have no regrets; recent events made that a little harder. But maybe she had a chance… She watched him slowly disarm, through the cage of her light-brown strands. Amateur. She thought, watching him with a certain earnest now. Her eyes flicked from him, to the open door behind him. She could neither hear, nor see anyone else in that godforsaken study. And then she looked at what she saw as tools to escape… Things he so boldly and nobly left on the floor. But they are too far… I’m too slow right now. Slowly he sidled up to her again and reached out.  “Hey… hey… It is ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” “You aren’t… someone might…” She sounded a little resigned.   His hand continued to hover, getting closer slowly, like trying to reach for a cornered woman. She was tired and exhausted. This man was being nice, but if he was still here to ready her for a brawl or to prepare her for Ezekiel somehow, she did want to try appeal to his mercy. “… I can’t take any more… I’d rather just die” No. Not again. Tariq flew into autopilot. There was no electricity coursing through him this time. Nothing was stopping him from reaching for the woman who seemed ready to die. I could do nothing for Kira… But I can do something now. Swiftly but gently, a hand curled around her shoulders, while the other looped under her knee, so he could lift her off the floor and carry her out. She let him carry her slightly closer to the pool of things he had left on the floor, before docking her left hand against his chin and shoving at him with all her might. He tried holding his arms out and pull his face away from her hand, to make some space between them. His arms remained hooked around her, but loosely. Her hand clawed at his neck and chin, with more insistence. A soft grunt escaped his lips, more because he was torn by choice, than the discomfort. He could either tighten his grip, or slacken it… He wanted to do neither. And was forced to choose the latter, especially as she swivelled her other leg, the one that was not whole, to gain enough momentum and roll out of his grip. Her left hand broke the fall and she landed with a certain admirable finesse. He noticed her gaze flicker towards the assortment of his belongings this time and he lunged for the holster in the distance, slightly sprawled and on all fours, he managed to get his hand on it first. He simply held down the weapon, it remained firmly planted to the floor under his palm. Inaccessible unless she managed to pry his hands off it. And she would not.  His eyes widened briefly as she went for the baton, he tried reaching for it with the other hand, but was forced to choose again, he could not risk the grip on the gun. She got to the baton and remained kneeling. And as expected, he was the target. He held his breath and clenched his jaw. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Nova peer into the room, he could see just her forehead and her eyes. Nova bit her lip, her face flattened against the bullet-proof glass.  No, Zizi… please… She debated intervening and was reluctant because it could make matters worse. Zizi had no love for her. How could she when Nova spent most of their hours together injecting a serum into her injuries to painfully make her whole again. She was not allowed to any offer Zizi any explanations. Ezekiel took pleasure in reinforcing the belief that Nova chose to indulge this process, to further her own ambitions and even derived joy from the suffering of her victims. The medic did try her best to behave otherwise, but was forced to adopt a detached demeanour, for Zizi’s well-being and her own. Tariq stared at his fingers and continued to, as the baton made contact. Ffff… It hurt. He killed the word that formed in his mind and the sound that formed in his throat. Again. She seemed to have tremendous power in her swings and perfect balance in the way she knelt on her knee and residual leg. And again. So, this is how it must have felt… He did not want to think of what he did to Jared as his own fingers started purpling. He had already paid his dues for that, technically… But the rise and fall of the baton, brought with it the memories it did. He clenched his eyes shut briefly, it felt harder to see the baton streak through the air. The tendons of his fingers rose like claws on the back of his hand. His grip tightened, but the pain lent a small tremor to the muscles in his arms, as he fought to keep his hand where it was and his body begged him to pull away. Something did crack.

She has a lot of fight in her.   His fingers felt hot and he could see them swell, and the purplish colour deepened. At least it is my favourite colour. And again. He groaned. And still did not let go. He also did not ask her to stop. Maybe he should have… She targeted the outside of his locked elbow. He noticed it just in time to bend it and lowered himself, with his arms against the floor, his body hanging over the holster his broken fingers held. Zizi had a sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach. As the baton connected with the elbow. He saved himself from a nasty fracture, but he still did not retaliate after the thwunk. That felt unusual.   Fight back moron. It was not just about the gun anymore. Zizi knew that the baton’s taser function was locked behind finger-print access of authorized personnel only.

Fucking inconvenient, I can’t pry the gun and I doubt I’ll have a chance to put his finger on the sensor properly… A baton was not heavy-handed enough as a weapon for her to hobble to her escape with.  

I would probably not get far either way. All the effort made Zizi a little dizzy. But she had to try targeting that last joint. Nova noticed the strength Zizi put into the next swing and her hand flew to her face. She winced for Tariq and drew a breath to speak. This must stop. A muffled sound followed the second thwunk against his shoulder. Tariq did not let go. And then nothing. It was over. That was the final strike. Tariq’s free hand wrapped around his shoulder and he tucked his legs under him to sit on his heels. Bruised, but not battered. Nova was glad she did not make matters worse and marvelled at the way Tariq managed the situation that was about to get out of hand. She quickly ducked out of view again and sighed. “Is it because I’m... I’m a woman or a cripple?” Zizi rasped, she leaned against the transparent wall.   “I just meant what I said… I don’t want to hurt you...” Tariq managed with effort that mirrored hers. Vivianne re-emerged in the study, tucking her scalpel into its spot. She set her steady, unfaltering gaze onto the scene, slightly impassively. Her eyebrows rose. Vivi’s glassy blue eyes lingered on Tariq’s fingers for a moment. Blooming bruises. Hmm. When her eyes locked with man’s, he deadpanned and rolled his eyes, in response to her gentle smirk. But his expressions were not filled with the malice they had been earlier that night. Pain was their language.  Or rather, in some ways, pain had always been Vivianne’s language… and he… and Akira had learned not to mind that so much. They had even learned to enjoy her fascination and share some of it… Till she crossed the line. But Vivi and Anna came through today though... Betrayal does not have to be absolute… Maybe it was a mistake? I made one too… “She needs food… I’ll get some.” Vivi’s voice was such a contrast in comparison to the broken voices of the others. On her way out, she did wonder if these people—her friends-- could catch a break… Zizi watched the woman leave with dazed caution. Another unfamiliar face and perhaps there were more.   

“Is that okay, will you eat? Can I… help you out of this room?” He looked at her and saw the wounded pride. “Fattening me up like livestock for slaughter? Whatever… I can walk out myself…” Ezekiel’s interest in her had been waning over the last fortnight or so. Maybe this guy is just new at this job. To her, Tariq seemed kind and concerned, but that did not mean much. She was not expecting great things. They were probably in charge of readying her for the next show and given her current state, she did not think she would make it out alive. There was a heart wrenching resignation in that ‘whatever’  But Tariq tried, relentlessly. She did not have to do it all on her own. He crouched and then got up; he watched her struggle to pull herself up using the wall. Tariq let go of his shoulder and winced. Swiftly, he clipped the holster back to his belt and snapped the belt back around his coat. He could only offer the woman his aid again. “Will… you let me-” She sighed and took his hand. He handled her with care and helped her up. There was no pity in his gestures, but admiration for her will. She teetered, little from the weakness and a little from exerting her leg too much. She really does need food…  

Tariq thought, allowing her to find her bearings, while being there, to catch her if she could not. She did fall into him, which felt like something she was far more unprepared for than he was. She recoiled and swatted at him and the help he offered. “I’m… I’m fine.” Her snapping tone was blunted by the struggle. “Okay…”   He let go of her and raised his hands in surrender and watched. She hopped a little, her left hand sliding against the wall, then paused and took a deep breath. She pursed her lips and looked at him.  “We try again?” He said softly and held out his hand another time. He knew of men and women who hated the feeling of helplessness, who did not like relying on others in adversity, but sometimes had to. He knew he would probably be one of those kinds…   She nodded and sighed, hating the vulnerability her circumstance forced on her. Nova did not know where to go. So, she hung her head and continued sitting there. Waiting to catch a glimpse of Zizi’s toes as Tariq managed to coax her out. “We’re just getting out, so we can close this… this-” He did not want to diminish what had been her home. “-place, for good.” As he had hoped and expected, once they were out, he felt the relief and life crawl back into her. At least that is what he though, and all Tariq could do, was hope it was here to stay. Nova was so quiet, Zizi missed her presence. She was drawn to the fireplace on the other side of the study, literally like a moth to a flame. She directed Tariq towards it.

[Category - 3]   [Tags: @quirkykayleetam, @lettuceknighted, @straight-to-the-pain]

#whump #captive rescue #batons and fingers #building trust #emotional angst whump #recovery awaits #a new oc #oc Zizi #oc Novara #oc Tariq #oc Vivi-Anna

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [33]

[CW: References to human trafficking/trading. Focused on recovery and healing.]

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] (Lost and Found: Chapter 8)

Trust.

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Cricket chirps. Soft footsteps and the whir of the wheels. The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle that sat in the cupholder of the wheelchair and the jostle of the fabric. A Q.B. uniform, a splayed black coat hugging a figure on a wheelchair and a black tracksuit moved in choreographed harmony. Like shadows that dissolved in the still darkness of night. Slinking between the buildings, on the empty, balmy roads that were laid out like grids. Zizi rode the remotely operated chair with tranquillized silence. She looked as restless as Jared felt. Their encounter had unearthed something that reared its ugly head from the past. A hungry monster, that sapped their peace and energy alike. It made everything feel uncomfortably personal and Jared was left feeling vulnerable. Akira’s prodding earlier that day did not help. And he found himself wishing now that Novara had been anywhere else but with her. Tariq’s relatively neutral presence was welcome, they did not ask each other for elucidations. The men had let the moment stir them into a wordless acceptance. Soon they were ascending the elevator of the living quarters for the trainee BioHackers.

There was a soft rap on the door. Akira locked eyes with Nova, before she slid off the bed to answer. She immediately had to flatten herself against the wall to give way as the men pooled in after the wheelchair. She had only dealt with patients, who were amputees. From the way Zizi rolled into her life, it already felt like she was going to be more than that. Akira quickly realised she could only be helpful by staying out of the way.  A part of Nova was relieved that Zizi was unconscious as her limp body was lifted to the bed. Nova busied herself with the MedScan feature of her CommCube. “I’m going to need some things from the hospital wing…” “I’ll get them.” Akira was eager. She wanted to be useful and she had enough experience in the field to manage such a simple task. Nova quickly listed what she needed. “I’ll go with Shira…” Jared offered, speaking of her, but not to her. He sought a reason to not be in the room because he did not want to make matters worse for Zizi when the tranquilizer wore off… And for himself. The woman was likely to have enough on her plate with just Nova. “I don’t need your help.” Akira responded sharply. Jared’s brief disappearance after he abruptly left their conversation on the pretext of getting food left her prickly. The time he took in getting back was warranted, given the circumstance, but she still could not reconcile with the fact that he did not find a single moment to let her know or give her a heads-up. Instead, he chose to just go AWOL. Jared did not see the reason for her hostility and bit back the urge to respond in kind.   “I need to get stuff checked any way... Mind if I come along, Kira?” Tariq muttered. It felt like the easiest way to keep things on an even keel. Novara looked stressed as is. He did not really give her a chance to protest and led the way out. Akira strode out, wearing her stormy demeanour and offering Jared a side-eye he did not think he deserved. === Tariq lightened Akira’s mood as they shared some joy over Ezekiel’s fate. He took pleasure in describing exactly how things transpired. They marvelled over how well Nova handled it. “If the serum doesn’t work as intended for whatever reason, I’ll tell whoever asks that I tried some shit, ‘kay?” Akira’s question was anything but. It was a declaration. She sifted through the cabinets and drawers for all the things that Nova needed for Zizi. Patches, IVs, NG-Tube, electrolyte solutions… Akira picked up a straitjacket for good measure. Tariq would have protested if he had seen her do so.  He instead, was surreptitiously pocketing a vial of the advanced shealing serum. His injured hand had not come out of his pocket at all and he did not let Akira know of it. “You were nowhere close to the scene. I was…” Their whipping scars were still raw, and they were arguing about who got to take the blame for this situation. Everything Akira collected was shoved into a sling bag. “We’ll see how it all pans out. T… I can carry all this on my own. Get some rest, will you?” Tariq looked haggard. After everything with Ezekiel and being the one who found Zizi, she could see why. These were not the kind of battles he fought. Akira implored him to take some time for himself. And this was without her knowing about his injuries. “I-” She was quick to interrupt him. “Y’know you’re going to wear yourself out and eventually make a mess of everything…” They knew she was only half-joking; it was a quality the two of them shared, among others. He really was out of his depth. His presence would not hinder, but it would not aid either. With some reluctance he agreed and promised to check back on all of them later. “Don’t worry about it.” Akira sought some solace in being the one reassuring her friends today. I can do this; I can be there for them too.   === The three pairs of eyes were trained onto Zizi after she had been adequately replenished with fluids. They watched as her limbs slowly came to life. Slowly and barely as the tranquilizer finally wore off.  Jared considered bolting out of the room. Instead, he waited by the door, away from Zizi’s immediate field of view. Akira on the other hand stood beside where the woman lay, crowding her a little. Nova sat on the other side of the bed. “Hi Zizi… I’m Akira… How’re you feeling?” Jared and Nova let her take the lead. Another new person. The voice sounded friendly enough, Zizi did not open her eyes yet. She felt a mattress under her. Her head was cradled by a pillow. Such simple luxuries… She found herself relishing them with an embarrassing amount of contentment. “Sorry about the slight mess… by the way.” Akira added and averted her gaze briefly, afraid that if it lingered too long on Zizi, she might betray sympathy in a manner that came off as pity. She unnecessarily fussed over folding a towel that was drying on her chair. There was nothing else there. Just the sheets on the bed were sprawled, and the cabinets of the kitchen were still slightly ajar. Zizi wasn’t going to notice those things anyway. She was still addled by whatever she had been injected with. Her movements were slow, but she turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes. Her eyes widened instantly when they fell upon Nova, whose eyes were still bloodshot and swollen from the tears she had shed.  Zizi drew a ragged breath and the flash of fear in her expressions dissolved into a resignation. I know Nova meant well and I know Ezekiel didn’t.   “Can I talk to you?” Zizi’s voice was barely a whisper. Akira missed Zizi’s request. “Should I brew us some tea? I’ve got some… generic green, jasmine… mint… chamo-” Jared did not. He tried too hard to tune it out that it only resulted in him being more attuned to it. At least she isn’t rapping anymore.   So he interrupted her. “I think Zizi wanted a moment with Nova.” Akira was already filling the kettle. She set it down and put her hands on her hip lazily. “They’re both here, right? I’m ju-” “Alone.” She narrowed and squared off with Jared. “And you think that’s a good id-” He cut her off again. His tone was slightly impatient. “They’ve spent time together already…” Jared did not expect to get into the thick of things with Akira right now. He could not see that she was trying to normalise things in her own way. That they were simply not in agreement about how things should proceed. Aki drew a deep breath. If you cut me off one more goddamn time… She did not think it through when she decided to drag Zizi into this. “I think she can tell us that herself…” “Shi- Akira!” Jared exclaimed, completely flabbergasted with Akira’s behaviour. She certainly was not being prudent, but he too was not thinking clearly. Akira raised her eyebrows in an unspoken and pettish question.   What? Zizi purposely kept her gaze off the source of Jared’s voice. It was less familiar to her than his face; less likely to trigger her slip into rap mode again. A part of her feared it may lead to tranquilization again. As easy as it was to slip into nothingness, she wanted to enjoy her autonomy for what it was worth. She could hear the famous Red Knight trying so hard to act professionally while Akira approached the matter more on instinct. The intimacy between them was hard to miss and the friction was palpable.  Neither of them was wrong. The exchange was like a tennis match, till she was dragged into it. And Zizi intervened like an umpire would. She was not too reluctant to ask for what she wanted. The world would have crushed her a long time ago if she had chosen silence. “I would like to talk to Nova - alone…” She did not hesitate to make her preference known. Choices had been a rarer luxury in captivity. Now that she was out, she lapped at every chance she got to exert her will. Her voice was clear, but soft, it demanded attention in a way that a louder voice never could. They were forced to fall silent to give her a chance to speak. And Akira did have the grace to do that, even though she was fuming. She deliberately avoided looking at any of them. There was a flash of an inexplicable venom and deep mortification in her eyes, best directed towards the panel of the induction stove. “If that’s okay with you…” Zizi addressed Nova this time. Akira did not know those words were not directed at her at all and managed a weak nod as she set her tea box aside. Novara recognized the question was for her and apprehensively nodded too, much more eagerly, but did not say anything given Akira’s assumption. Her friend was feeling prickly and Nova did not want to make matters worse. Technically, this was Akira’s room and they were all taking a lot of liberties intruding this way. Nova believed in Akira’s inherent generosity. Akira was now resolutely quiet and chewed on the inside of her mouth. For once she understood why Jared chose silence sometimes. It was he who filled it, to reassure the victim in the room. “I think it is brave that Zizi would like to spend some time with Novara after everything…” And accidentally diminishing the other victim in the room by adding words addressed to her. “You should know how difficult that is… and how much courage it probably takes...” Jared had not expected this to be as much of a struggle.   Akira’s head hung for a moment. Her body lost something, like bones, because her petite frame slouched. In a motion akin to slithering, she dragged herself out of her own room, muttering. “Right… Well, excuse me, then.” Jared followed and closed the door behind him, leaving Novara and Zizi alone. He wanted to be within earshot and reach. Akira’s concern was a consequence worth considering. He did not tell her that though, perhaps he should have. He lingered in the corridor. Akira did not. It was her turn to take a solitary walk. And he let her go. - Nova looked a little apologetic, not for her friends’ behaviour per se, she knew that they too had been through a lot, but given that Zizi didn’t have any context, it was probably uncomfortable for her to witness. “Don’t worry… There is… That’s just Jared and Akira.” The medic’s voice was soft. And she casually broke the illusion Jared had tried to create. Nova did not see the reason to build walls around the woman. They had been through so much together. Zizi was not uncomfortable in the least. She was left amused. “Don’t worry… I’ve seen much worse.” Nova shuffled in place. Her knees sinking in and out of the mattress.  “I- I’m so sorry… Z, I-”  A choked back sob, a stifled sniffle and a shaky breath. “-I never meant for any of this… For...” “I know." Zizi replied simply. Nova gulped and looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes. She did? She blinked away the tears. “I could kinda see you hated it… I saw past his shit eventually and… I’m sorry too.” Zizi did sound apologetic herself. She wanted this time with Nova, just to let the poor BioHacker know, that Ezekiel did not win. That he did not succeed in villainizing Nova. Nova wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly. “You… you shouldn’t have to be.” “I did try and kill you.” Zizi thought she could handle this heart-to-heart with ease. She could not. She resisted the urge to break into a rap again and gently massaged the stub of her arm as it began tingling. It had been a tough few month, among the worse of Zizi’s life at least in terms of raw, physical suffering. To be torn up repeatedly, one way or another and painfully be put back together. But she had lost everything before and she held on. She could do it again. She would. Nova’s reassurance was bland and honest, and she noticed Zizi’s discomfort.  “I’d want to kill me too, in that… situation. Are you ok? Can I get you something?” “No… I’ll be fine… He called you Supernova...That was never a compliment, was it?” That derogatory name. A darkness found its way into Nova’s being and she shook her head with an added vehemence. But it was not his voice; it did not grate against her being. “No… No, it was not. But it is nothing compared to what you, to what you and Ge-” She could not find the nerve to say his name. The name that no one would use again, not for him. There was no one left to call. Zizi had come to terms with losing the man she temporarily shared that hidden room with. Death was not uncommon in the Pit. Nova had not. She could not bury what happened, like Ezekiel presumably buried Genzo. Did he even bury Genzo? The thought chilled her. Ezekiel had thrown Genzo to the wolves before he was ready, before Nova’s serum had made him whole. Zizi was made to watch the fight where he was taken down. He was not brought back to the hidden room that night. Nova did not know about Bloody Blitz – The Pit of Doom…  So, when she inquired about Genzo, Ezekiel simply stated that he was gone, and that she was responsible for it, for not fixing him well enough. And that day Zizi lost the little freedom she had. As did Nova who was pinned like a butterfly, under the weight of the life she could not save. And the life she now had to – Mine! Zizi thought, before Ezekiel’s voice rang in her head. “No more going to the Bloody Blitz till Nova has perfected the serum…”  From that day onwards, the pain she received had been methodical and at Eze’s hands. It was solely for the purpose of testing the serum. She was reduced to nothing but a lab rat. At least she always came through. I do owe my life to her. Nova finally understood what Akira meant when she compared degrees of suffering. Pain was pain. But Zizi had had it so much worse. Nova sidled closer to her, tentatively. Zizi did not mind, she was quite accustomed to Nova’s presence in her private space. It was refreshing to see her softer side, one that was not governed by the strings Eze pulled. Strings he did not want Zizi to see, but she had. “You did the best you could for Genzo…” These were not empty words. Their fingers found each other. The skin on the back of their hands sat in such stark contrast, their palms less so. Nova knew Zizi’s anatomy too well, to not know anything about her as a person. It felt unfair and wrong. Her soft mutter carried a whine attesting to that. “He, he never quite told me where he… where he found you both…” “What did he tell you?” The counter question sounded a little sharp. Nova clammed up a little, her words were a jumble, just like his answers had been, if he ever indulged her questions to begin with. She had to stop asking when it irritated him enough to make matters worse for Zizi. “From, prisoners of war, to criminals, to street rats… drug addicts…” He deliberately gave enough answers, for Nova to never know which one was true or if all of them were. He played with her, till it was amusing. Till he could revel in the friction between the women.   She wanted Zizi to have the whole truth as much of it as she could offer. There was an insistence in the way she spoke. “He made me believe you were dangerous, like you were… you were both on death row. That is why we didn’t mourn G-” She shortened the name to a letter, so it didn’t keep getting caught in her throat. “-because Eze said, he didn’t deserve it. But he did! He deserved it!” Nova forgotten to breathe between the slurry of her words, now she gasped in short, exhausted sounds. “Everyone does. And I did not believe him, but…” She looked at Zizi pointedly now. Unflinchingly, fearlessly. She wanted her to know, no matter how dark her past truly was… Nova didn’t think that it was okay for her to suffer the way she had. “Even if any of what he said was… is true… Nothing made- nothing makes what I did okay… What he made me do… what he made me do.” She switched between talking about it like it was something in the past, because her hope reminded her that it was. But her grief anchored the pain, Zizi’s and hers to the present. She licked her lips. She finally stopped; the woman had not expected to spiral into this conversation.   Nova had poured all this out, for the second time today. It felt easier to divulge this time around, because she had gathered her thoughts while talking to Akira.   Zizi let her, in silence, clutching onto the medic’s hand gently. It truly was inspiring to finally meet the real Novara. I am surprised the world has not chewed you up and spit you out, Novara. You must be doing something very right. Empathetic, empowered and brilliant. “All the things he said were somewhat true… I guess. Genzo and I were drawn against each other in the pit… and we fight to knock-out or kill… So…” Zizi licked her dry lips. Nova immediately reached for the bottle of water, she helped Zizi sit up enough to sip from it. She gathered the will to go on. “He found us on the brink of death… and promised to save us, but only if he could keep us for himself.” Nova’s skin crawled. But she should have figured. Especially recently after everything else Ezekiel had done, so blatantly, with such little regard for the pain he caused. “How- from?” Zizi closed her eyes again, the lyrics of her rap rose in her throat. Nova was familiar with Ritonix’s entire discography – Zizi had screamed her way through the songs on every encounter with Nova, the needle and the syringe full of the serum. Zizi did not want to trigger the medic. She wanted her to know that she felt safe now. Zizi also did not want to answer the question. She pursed her lips. She thought of Jeremy. He only wanted to save her… To save them. He had been kind; she did not want to implicate him in this either. He would most likely end up taking the fall for it all. He would be the likely scapegoat, because Bloody Blitz was an intricate system. It ran too deep and what could a handful of agents possibly do to fight it. Zizi did not want the people who were trying to help her, to get entangled with that monster. Upon noticing the doubt and fear flit across Zizi’s face, Novara felt rankled. This was betrayed in the way she swayed a little. “It’s ok… It’s ok.” Nova murmured, to Zizi and to herself. Genzo and Zizi had been brought to her with severe injuries. The first time she helped them, it was out of desperation. They had just been her patients and Ezekiel had convinced her that using the serum would be mercy. And then it became a habit. Nova had questions then and she had questions now, but she did not get a chance to ask them. Zizi had already shared enough and she had a question of her own, one she could not ask Tariq… or worse, Jared. She could not allow herself to feel this vulnerable around them. But Nova had already seen her at her worse. She massaged her right arm with more vigour now as she arrived at an unnerving realisation. “…Nova, what exactly happens to me now?” All this time, Zizi had leashed the fear that leapt from the uncertainty of the situation. And now the leash broke. “I- You… It will never-” She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Nova could not afford any hesitation marring what she wanted to say. Despite the ambiguity of the future, she would not let Zizi suffer again. Her eyes opened with her usual fierce resolve. “You will never be traded again or belong to anyone again like that. That’s for sure.” There it was again, that conviction, that felt so true that reality crumbled against it. Her radiant hope did not convince Zizi entirely, but the Fighter smiled weakly. Nova intended to do whatever it took, to keep her promise. She could tell that there were more sorrowful secrets buried in the woman’s past and she did not want to try disinterring them. Not right now. Zizi did not need to relive any more horrors. It would not help recover and that was of paramount importance. “And we don’t need to talk about everything right away… You need to rest, and I need to run some more tests… if that’s ok.” Zizi quickly slid lower into the bed, craving the comfort more than she was willing to admit. Her body had not felt the embrace of soft covers and a mattress for far too long. “For the last few days, I thought Ezekiel forgot me and that felt like a blessing… Dying in that cell. This- This feels like a miracle…” she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Nova’s administrations, this time willingly and trustingly. Nova used the MediScan feature on her CommCube and recorded the vitals and other measures again. And stayed with Zizi till the woman fell asleep.

Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam

#whump #rescue #caretaking #healing #building trust #difficult relationships #circumstantial friction #oc Jared #oc Akira #oc Novara #oc Zizi #oc Tariq

[thewhumpstuff]

You and I, Me and You [32]

[CW:- References to: Past gunshot trauma leading to loss of limb, human trafficking and trade, amputee oc rescued from captivity. ]  

[Teaser and Master List] [Archives of our Own] - (Lost and Found: Chapter - 7)

[<-- Previous] ~ [Next -->]

Empty by Ritonix

Jared was left feeling incredibly uncomfortable on Ezekiel’s turf. The blonde had just made that house his, left parts of himself in the tasteful debauchery.  From the thoughtfully curated pieces of art and display of exotic ancient instruments, to the carefully minimalistic nature of all the furniture that promised convenience, comfort and luxury. He walked into the study with Tariq. “Zizi… sounds like Vivi. Zizi… Vivi… Zizi… Vivi” Tariq remarked with a dry snigger. He needed some relief from the tense silence which he and Nova adopted, to let Zizi rest by the fire. This felt like a cheap trick to lighten things and it made her name feel strangely familiar. He swallowed his hollow laughter and surrendered to the awkward silence again when the other man emphatically did not react.   They made their way back inside. Jared spotted the tall woman resting on the floor in front of the fireplace. She looked like she was napping, lying on her right side. Only a single leg emerged under the hem of the flimsy gown. Her arm lay draped across her ample hips, the fingers caressing the carpet with every uneven breath. Her head was resting in the crook of the other and her eyes were closed. The stump of her forearm that she had lost would have been imperceptibly hidden in her hair. Not fingers, nor a fist was visible though the strands and that was enough for Jared to know. Much like Tariq, he had seen his share of victims. It was rarer to see them without prosthetics, though. He made it his priority to get her access to those as soon as time permitted after he got a grip on the situation.   Jared noted the swelling and bruises on Tariq’s hands. He jerked his chin towards the pummelled fingers. “Is she dangerous?” Jared did not sound fearful, just a little concerned and rather matter of fact. He was astounded by the resounding quality of Tariq’s answer. “No. She’s a survivor!” Jared narrowed his eyes, there was curiosity but no accusation.   “What happened?” “Things just got a little… hairy when I- we tried to get her out of the room…” Tariq sounded a little brittle; Jared rubbed his temple. There were moments that called for correction and inquiry, this was not one of them. From the looks of it Tariq had done the best he could. He assumed there was an altercation and the Q.B. agent held off without needing to strike or restrain the victim. “Right. You should get that looked at.” Jared said. Tariq’s amber eyes rested on Jared as he replied. “I’m fine.” “Yes, but Zizi is going to need a wheelchair, she can’t possibly stay here.” Jared countered, with an entreating glare. Someone needed to run tests on Zizi and soon. The situation was a little sensitive and the only viable option for a BioHacker was also someone Zizi was probably terrified of. He personally knew what it felt like to be hated by a victim of serum-healing. And Akira had had just one session. From the sounds of it, Zizi had it worse. Regardless, they had to get out of Eze’s house. It was an easy way for Jared to trump Tariq with logic. He had no authority to dismiss Tariq and he could only hope the man would show some faith in him. Tariq did have faith in Jared. Given everything they had endured, the mutual suffering, if nothing else, had created some trust and understanding. He could also see that Jared was really trying to get him to leave, but he did make a good point. He’s got this… and… “I’ll be back…” …Sooner I’m gone, sooner I can be back…

Zizi had not been asleep. Jared should have known better, after all, he had adopted a similar tactic to gain information when he was confined to the hospital bed. She got to her feet with astonishing fleetness, given her state, but she had to, to make a point. “Wait!” A startled Tariq heeded the exclamation but did not turn. “Your hand… I - I’m sorry…” Her apology was crisp and not elegiac. There was an indifference to her regret, but also some deference for Tariq’s chivalry. As sour as she had been about it, he had done her a favour and understood the feral nature of a cornered person. Even if they haul me back to the damn pits, at least valour and gallantry is not all dead. He pointedly let his uninjured hand hang by his side, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I don’t see a problem, do you?” “You’re crazy…” she whispered, like it was a personal afterthought. She shook her head disbelievingly. “Empty, that’s you singing right? I’m a big fan too…” Tariq said having placed the lyrics to the name of the song. He looked over his shoulder and offered a reassuring smile, pretending like nothing ever happened. Tariq wished she had not bothered to stand up. He understood that it was to demonstrate the respect she attached to the apology… It still felt unwarranted “Does this fan have a name?” “Tariq… I best be off though…” His smile faltered when he saw her doddering. He considered reaching out, he did not need to. Jared noticed too from the corner of his eye. The movement helped him snap back to reality. It did not take a genius to know a fall was imminent, he swiftly reached over to break the fall. She is fine. Jared will take care of this… better. Tariq conceded to Jared’s experience. With that last glimpse of Zizi falling into Jared’s arms… He left in a hurry. Once her gaze fell onto the face of the man who caught her, she stiffened in his arms. Jared Knight… Hailed then and hailed now. From the way he handled her, it became apparent that he did not know who she was. How would he? I was in a goddamn mask. And everyone who thought they knew him, were probably wrong.

There he was, composed and detached as usual. Out of personal, illogical vendetta she wanted to strip at that wall, bring to the forefront her own resentment as a victim, as collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. She wanted to and she tried not to, but the bitterness slipped into her tone. “Oh… If it isn’t The Red Knight.” She greeted him in another whisper that was soft and unsettling.   Jared could no longer ignore the feeling that something was off, something that necessitated privacy; luckily, he had some now. Those green eyes pierced his soul, with reserved judgement. There was a sheen of sweat on her skin. “So, where do you stand in all this?” She spoke coolly, pulling herself away when she regained footing. He frowned and was quick to let her go. She lowered herself to the ground with a slightly ungraceful fall towards the end. He sat down too, cross-legged. Like old friends by the fireplace, except it was anything but. They did share a past… And it was not pleasant. “I was told that Ezekiel held you captive against your will and that Novara was made to conduct experiments on you.” She winced; he did not mince his words. “That is correct.”   She did not add any details and studied the man in front of her. Jared could see her unwillingness to really cooperate. She had no reason to trust him, but apart from that, there was more to the simmering, penetrative gaze that pinned him. He switched tactics, it made sense to set her at ease first.   “You must be hungry… I personally like this one...” Jared held both the bottles of BuzzBo in his hands, wiggling the fruity flavour. It reminded him pointedly of Akira and their discussion. He ignored the reminder. She avoided looking at Jared and could not help choosing the other bottle. The one he did not recommend, the savoury flavour that tasted more like soup. It was a pointed decision. Jared ignored the feeling and weighed this logically. He assumed she was emphasizing a lack of trust. It would not make sense for him to tamper with just one of the bottles if he wanted to drug her. He broke open the seal for her. Look at you, helping me… Just because you have both your hands. Zizi really wished she could swallow the bitterness that rose like bile. She tensed and it would have been imperceptible to most, not to Jared. “Thank you.” Her words were too abrasive, to hold the gratitude they were meant to. Jared narrowed his eyes, he was good at reading people, but Zizi was not even trying to make it difficult. What Jared lacked was access and information, to figure out the why. In the spirit of trying to inspire trust yet again, Jared shrugged, opened the option he had recommended and took a swig. The sweet freshness was welcome. It quelled the odd queasiness he had not bothered to recognize until it was gone. “Ezekiel has been arrested on some charges; he will not be returning.” “So, what happens now, am I free?” She asked with an acidic emphasis, like she was challenging him to make a promise he could not possibly keep. He did not. “That depends on where he found you... Zizi.” “Found me? I was… traded… for my own life. If that makes any sense.” It doesn’t. A sharp inhale followed her words. It was difficult to make heads or tails out of that, but it did not sound good. He tried to prompt her for a less vague explanation. “Traded for your life?” Jared repeated, he hoped she would offer more clarity so he had something concrete to proceed with.   The more she looked at his face, the harder it became for her to not blame him for everything. Traded for my life, a life that did not belong to me anymore… because of you! He knew he was not really the enemy, not then and not anymore, but that just made it all the more difficult to handle. He got to be the good guy who was doing his job, she had to live with the damn fallout. She shook her head with an urgency and resorted to disjointedly spewing her lyrics again. Empty returned to her lips again. She rapped softly, like it was a mantra. It was iconic enough to be. “Empty… promises, empty threats…, empty lies and empty beds.” Zizi used lines she had penned a long time ago, like a serenade. The words sent a jolt of disquiet within Jared. Empty, by Ritonix. It was a long time ago that he was ordered to look for that enigmatic artist and his involvement in the chase had not ended well. He did not expect that name or these verses to haunt him today. Jared sat paralyzed. He stared at the floor resolutely focusing the fibre of the carpet, which was red and not green. Which was soft and not abrasive. Letting that solid red colour stand like a wall between the memories that sought to invade. It was a long time ago! I am fine. I’m fine now. And I knew the risks then. Briefly, her eyes snapped open, they held within them accusation that she failed to supress. She waved the stump of her right hand in his face. “That bullet changed everything! That bullet changed EVERYTHING.” Jared leaned away from her on instinct, he was bewildered. His subconscious learned something though, something clicked in the back of his head. - “Do you have a clear shot, Knight?” “Yes sir.” His gun was aimed at the masked artists’ head. “Take it. One dead should kill the spirit of the rest.” The crowd watched the confrontation, there were too many eyes on him. He lowered the gun, just a little. BANG. The victim was soon buried in a thicket of angry people. “I missed, sir. Situation is hostile, we’re outnumbered.” “Damn it, Knight. Get your team the fuck out of there.”   - “Break your mind, break your soul, break your body, to make you whole.” She went on. It felt merciless to Jared, but she had no idea what the lyrics were doing to him. She did not know that he had been brought to his knees for that shot… and worse. Jared resisted the urge to cover his ears and beg her to stop. Instead, he grit his teeth and folded his arms. He sat there, practicing denial as he watched her. She rocked to her own words, like a shattering star. There were so many dissenters who had claimed they were the legendary artist. Many had lost parts of themselves too. This could just be a coincidence. It could not be. It could not actually be her. And even if it was her… I did pay heavily for that bullet too! Indignation had become a recurring theme recently. Perhaps a part of him was finally tired of paying for things he had to do. Jared grappled with the forbidding memories again and tried to focus on keeping his breaths spaced and even. Was this just some cruel ploy? Some last-laugh game that Ezekiel was playing to torment him? Nikolai had buried everything related to that incident the best he could, but Ezekiel did always have special access. Maybe he found out what the Ritonix fans and crew did to Jared as retaliation for that shot…  Now, he wanted to know. He needed to know. And for that he would need his own clearance. He also really needed Zizi to stop whispering the rap… A door opened and closed somewhere in the house. The sound toppled Jared back to reality yet again and it broke the grim tension of the moment. Tariq returned with a wheelchair. Zizi was still in a trance. Her eyes were screwed shut. She rocked and rapped with an insistence, through lips that barely opened. And Jared looked like he had seen a ghost. I thought you had this handled, Jared. “What the fuck happened here?” “We need to get her looked at…” Jared replied, collecting himself quickly as he got to his feet. “Nova is the only option if we want to avoid exposure. Do you think that’ll be okay?” Tariq asked uneasily, they were both out of their depths. It was unlikely that Zizi did not harbour at least some ill-will towards the medic if she was a subject of experimentation with that serum. Jared was rummaging through the canvas pockets of the wheelchair, most of them came equipped with medical supplies, including tranquilizers. He swiftly fixed up the needle. I need… her to stop and we need to get her out of here. He rarely acted in total selfish interest, today was no exception. She looked like she needed to calm down and he knew if the verses continued, they’d rip through him eventually. And that would hamper his ability to remain professional.   Tariq wanted to protest but did not and Jared made a decision. “It’s the safest… fastest option.” Zizi did not open her eyes till she was already being injected with the tranquilizer. Emerald eyes drilled into Jared, with hatred and fear, before her vision blurred. Tariq hoisted Zizi’s limp form into the wheelchair and strapped her in to keep her from wobbling. Jared sent a message to Nova.

To Novara: Where are you?

Jared had made a mental note of Nova’s things in Ezekiel’s house, just because they stuck out and reminded him that she had to live with him. On their way out, he whipped the sleek, black velvet coat off the hanger and threw it over Zizi in a slightly unceremonious manner. His actions were plagued by a hefty weariness. Tariq took a moment to wordlessly correct the folds of the fabric so it covered Zizi evenly. -

To Jared Knight: I’m with Akira… I told her everything. She is okay. I’m okay too. :)

Novara had the tendency to include smileys in her text messages, even when she decidedly was not smiling. Grief and relief had reduced her to sobs. Novara had invited herself into Akira’s room on the pretext of watching a movie. It had not taken her long to simply, spill. Akira now knew more than Jared did. She knew about Zizi and she knew what Vivi-Anna, Tariq and Nova did to Ezekiel to free her. “It’s okay… It’s okay...” Akira’s voice was soft, she cradled Nova’s head against her shoulder. They were both in Aki’s bed and she hoped for the magic of covers to make things better… Even temporarily, like they had last night for her and Jared. She felt the weight of guilt, a lot of things happened because she made the decision to defect. However, things had gotten so unrealistically out of hand, at this point there was no way she, or anyone else could have predicted all these outcomes. So, after having plummeted to what she believed to be rock-bottom, Akira tried to rally. Focus on the silver-linings. Focus on the silver-linings. Shit hit the fan, but Ezekiel was imprisoned, Jared was offered SiC and Zizi had been rescued. Maybe it was time for things to get better. And she needed to pull herself together, so she could be there for Novara, for Tariq and for Jared. “They’d eat a bullet for you.” She was grateful that they did not have to. They had suffered too… And they had been there for her. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me? Ever… not hate me?” Nova didn’t look up as she spoke. Akira could not make promises for Zizi. She chewed on her lower lip. “Time heals everything, right Nova…? Or you do…” She tried to lighten the mood. Nova half-sobbed and half-giggled against her friend. Akira joined her in the half-hearted chuckle. The sounds faded, the screen in front of them continued to mutter something unintelligibly. Akira spoke over it, “I think I want to meet her.” Nova received a notification on cue.

Jared Knight: Stay there, I am bringing Zizi over.

The CommCube traced Nova’s gesticulating fingers as they danced in the air, typing on a keyboard that her SmartEye lens allowed only her to see. She sniffled and replied to the text with a monosyllabic confirmation.

To Jared Knight: Ok! :)

“You might be in luck… They’re coming here.”  Nova could not help but sound nervous. Akira read her tone with ease.   “It’ll be fine…” She reassured.

[Tags: @quirkykayleetam, @lettuceknighted]

#dealing with past trauma #whump #emotional angst #guilt #coping mechanisms #fear #trying to build trust #oc Zizi #oc Jared #oc Akira #oc Novara #oc Tariq

[thewhumpstuff]

Ezekiel - Gifts [YaIMaY - D2]

[CW: References to: Human trading/trafficking]

[Teaser and Master List]

Introducing - The Bloody Blitz

He had been kind to her. It had taken effort. But he really wanted to give her a chance to see him for more than his usual cravings. He wished she had been more than a conquest. Alas, she was detached and distant, and Eze’s patience was wearing thin. He got her the best things, bestowed upon her the most ornate compliments, and all she had to offer was resignation and haphazard facts about her research. She talked about her work a lot. It was amusing at first, but got dull quickly and Eze’s interest waned. Then she said something in bed one night. “... I suppose it is actually nice that we’re not at war. And I hope we won’t be, but then... Alcyone said, if we were-” Nova truly did hope it would be an if and not when. “-I'd have had no way to perfect the serum…” Alcyone thought something Nova was doing was worthy enough to warrant a conversation? That piqued Ezekiel’s interest again. He coaxed details out of her. How naively she shared the information about her serum. Almost brightly. Ezekiel was potentially sitting on a goldmine. How could he not cash in?  So, he took matters into his own hands. And made some arrangements. Today, it was time for him to collect. He looked at his watch to confirm that it was. The blonde hated having to do his own work, but this deal called for special discretion and did promise entertainment. He did not use his Q.B. sanctioned hover car for this. It was the time of the month where he had to settle for an archaic, rented van and today, he had to drive it himself. All this better be worth the trouble. 

Ezekiel ambled in his study, on an end-to-end encrypted call with a Contact. The unknown, the unnamed, mysterious people that made things happen, for the right price. “Yes, but I need in, I want my own candidate… candidates preferably…” Ezekiel leaned against his study and tossed an eclectic paperweight in his hand absently. “Do you just want a person, or do you want to participate and win?” The Contacts knew how to read their customers too and they had their own way of collecting intelligence. It was easy to try lure Ezekiel. “Good doesn’t come cheap.” The mechanical genderless and toneless voice on the other end stated. Too bad Ezekiel could not really shuffle the cash to get the kind of funds he would need for a real champion in the Bloody Blitz. “You know I have to work within the budget that can be overlooked and won’t prompt an inquiry.” Ezekiel gripped the ornate paper weight tightly, his knuckles whitening as he reigned in his frustration. He did not like feeling like a dog on Q.B.’s leash. And somehow, despite all the privileges he had garnered, it never felt like enough. He never felt truly liberated. “People always break in the Bloody Blitz… Just pick up the pieces if you need someone to fix Ezekiel. Maybe you will get lucky and get a cheap Fighter that way. There are some good bouts scheduled for the next Blitz, say the word and I’ll get you in, you know they’re always happy to have you.” Eze disconnected on that pleasant note. The reminder that the organizers of the Bloody Blitz eagerly maintained the mutually beneficial relationship with him, was soothing. Out of his fondness for the expedient system, Eze did play his part and helped them keep things off Q.B.’s radar.   They owe me, I am sure I’ll get what I want. - He parked the van and checked the shock-implements lay on the black faux leather of the passenger seat. The little inconveniences had already taken their toll on the blonde. He really did not like driving himself. This was not the first time he had accepted an invite to the Bloody Blitz, and it would not be the last. The conceivable venues for the event were changed too often. Enough fake information floated, to make it impossible for anyone who was not invited, to be able to pin down a location. The structures erected for the event were easy to dismantle without trace. It only happened bi-yearly. And their promise of security, so far, was delivered flawlessly. Ezekiel had a hand in maintaining this… Which earned him many privileges. - Ezekiel picked up a flute of a sparkling beverage off a tray, absently. Those in the VIP lounge were afforded certain palatable luxuries. He stood in the enclosed balcony, watching the skirmishes – to death or knock out – rage on, in the pit below. The current battle was a classic speed versus strength showdown. He overheard a snippet of a soft conversation. “I hope Lieder wins…” “Lieder is the strength guy? You don’t own him, do you?” she sounded aghast, because she had deemed him to be the weaker candidate. It was uncommon for the VIPs to memorise the names of the Fighters, unless they owned them. “No no, I’m just friends with his Trainer.” The man replied, slightly offended. He pointed at the guy who stood by the arena below. Ezekiel followed his finger and noticed the man in the black overalls; the word TRAINER visibly plastered on the back in bold white letters. The Trainer was anxiously muttering something into the ear of the man in the sweat and blood-stained orange bodysuit inside the pit – Leider. Leider leaned against the chain-link fence that sealed an area that was the size of four boxing rings. He was exhausted and tried to focus on what his trainer was saying, over the din of the crowd. His eyes trained onto the other guy in orange, his speedy opponent, being similarly attended to by his trainer. “I don’t see it happening.” The woman countered hotly. “Leider has the bets, in greater value and numbers.” Ezekiel scanned the riffraff below him, the kinds that had bid on tickets just to witness this charade and irresponsibly gambled on the outcomes of the brawls and challenges. Being unable to pay a debt is sometimes what forced people to surrender their lives as Fighters or Units. The time-out period was extended. There was a cry about a foul. The people who sat in chairs on bleachers placed on either side of the arena wore red—The Units. Their spokespeople were shouting. “NO! We agreed on the concentration and the units beforehand!” the stout woman in red, sprung off her seat and was making a beeline towards the other side. “But the dose should be duration based, not quantity based, how is our Fighter supposed to outlast yours, if yours works for-” A lankier woman responded, rankled. She too slid out of her chair; her motions were meeker as she slunk to meet the other woman halfway. Upon being interrupted, her smaller posse strode to her side for support. “-That sounds like something that should have been discussed before.” Eze could not hear the words anymore, but saw the mouths move as the women closed in on each other. Arguments that were deemed truly dull affairs were muted within the lounge. He could not hear the jeer of the crowd either but did feel the floor tremble under him as the people below stamped their feet in unison. The pleasing instrumental piece lilted in the balcony instead was interrupted by soft discontent mutters and sighs, the VIPs were more reserved in displaying their displeasure. “That dose-administration issue again!” The woman exclaimed. The man showed no interest in the specifics of the foul. He was too busy hungrily staring at the teams that had followed their leaders and were dangerously close to duking it out outside the pit. Ezekiel too, watched them with mild intrigue. The team on the side of speed was bigger. The Units were either teams of scientists or solo researchers responsible for inventing the products and prototypes. They did so either voluntarily out of academic curiosity, or out of necessity and desperation. Men in navy blue uniforms intervened and the crowd’s reaction was palpable again as the Units were ordered to their knees and then asked to retreat. The man near Ezekiel slapped his knee and laughed, earning some derisive looks from the other VIPs and outright disgusted from the woman beside him. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Julien.” “What…? Give me a break, I love it when the Handlers get to take charge. Too bad none of them defied the Handlers. They should be doing more with the Units, honestly. Fuckers need to work faster.” She cleared her throat and prattled on as the situation was managed and the referee made their final call. “I want Leider to lose because my sister has a twenty-three percent stake in the development of that enhancement. She narrowly misses the top shares though. So, her proposal about making the drug short-acting but more efficient is not being accepted.” “Get her to convince the other stakeholders.” The man snorted, like it was the most obvious thing ever. “I suppose if she manages and it passes, I’ll have to agree, the Handlers better make the Units buck up.” Her eyes glinted with their own hungry streak. Funding the Units granted the VIPs shareholder stakes on cutting-edge technology. Greater the ownership, the more autonomy one could have on how they wanted the research to proceed. The Handlers promised to do their best to make it happen. It prompted a smirk from Ezekiel. Lucky for me, I have my own personal ‘Unit’ in Nova. “We’ll see… I’m really looking forward to the next bout…” the man said, before he picked up an appetizer from the tray and slid the bite off the toothpick with his teeth cleanly. “That is bound to get truly bloody.” The woman agreed, having already forgotten her brief revulsion for the man. Ezekiel looked up at the announcement screen. Next up: ‘Genzo vs Zizi – Prosthetic Prototypes.’ - The fight truly was a spectacle, the woman, won against that Genzo guy, by the skin of her teeth. “Where are they going to take the Fighters?” Ezekiel asked the man in the purple uniform, standing by the gate to the VIP lounge. The guard was chewing a gum noisily and eyed the blonde, he wearily assessed the situation.   “I doubt they’ll go to the wards; they’ll be in body bags soon.” “Yes, but where are they taking them now?” “Immediately? Backstage and then probably to the greenrooms for quick assessment, if they survive all that…” “Perfect.” the guard narrowed his eyes as Ezekiel nodded. Something about his manner must have made his intentions obvious. “Sir… Guests are not allowed backstage, so you can’t go there…” Ezekiel just patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly, but in an off-handed manner as he crossed him. Someone else’s problem, I guess… The guard thought. Ezekiel cut through any resistance like butter and was soon witnessing the deranged babble of Zizi’s trainer. The man stood between two gurneys, he loomed over his Fighter and beseeched the medics to reconsider. “Come on! There must be something. Something you can do. She is good, she brings in good cash, I will give you a cut…” “It is over… Let it go, they will give you another Fighter soon. You know better than to get attached Jerry.” The Biohacker was done with this conversation and Jeremy wasn’t. He clearly had made exactly that mistake. To Eze, he looked prohibitively attached to Zizi. This felt very exploitable. “I have a way to save her…”   There was a confident cadence to Eze’s offer as he strolled up to the two medics and the trainer. “You do? What do you want for it?” There was an accent of suspicion in Jeremy’s question. No one did anything for free. Ezekiel clicked his tongue and addressed the BioHackers instead. “Where is the guy’s trainer?”   “They rarely come to check on Fighters who lost and are presumed dea-” “What do you want for her?!” Jeremy spoke over the medic with an urgency. “Her… and him. I’ll save them, but they’re mine.” Ezekiel answered simply. Jeremy did not have the chance or the time to hesitate and the medics were thrilled to hand Genzo and Zizi over, they even rolled them into the black van for him. - He went to fetch the shock collars and cuffs. A pair for the ankles, a pair for the wrists and one for the neck. They were snapped onto his new subjects with a vapid efficiency. Ezekiel did not take risks. Transaction done. It was oddly relieving to drive away from the Bloody Blitz, gifts in hand. Tonight, the two Fighters would meet a new devil--or fallen angel rather-- and it wasn’t him. “It’d be fucking hilarious if I was rescuing you right?” He was not sure if they were conscious enough to hear his dark joke, but he was certain that they were in no state to respond. He drove past the East-facing cells by the arena and then the sign that read Quantum Brigade Living Quarters. The car slowed down, but he didn’t take that first turn. He took the dingier off road that followed. “Alas... Zizi and Genzo… I am the law. And you two are mine.” He took the back route to the officer’s apartment and parked the car by some trees off the road. Someone would come collect the car later. It had served its purpose and had now been appropriately discarded. He ambled to the secret exit to the officer’s houses, to make his entry. More secret pathways. And the grand house… Perks of being second-in-command. “SuperNova! I’m home sweetheart. And I brought you something special, but I’ll need you to help me bring them inside.”

[Category - 2]

[Tags: @lettuceknighted, @quirkykayleetam and @beckstriad - Thank you for being an awesome beta and helping me edit!]

#new plot arc #references to human trading #references to human trafficking #bloody blitz #oc Ezekiel #oc Zizi #oc Novara #oc Genzo #whump

[abouttemperedgrace]

Meet Novara Ricci

A little bit of info below the trace-sketch and the cut.

Prodigious | Gullible | Encouraging | Acquiescent | Empathetic | Workaholic Nicknames: Nova, Supernova, RaRi Age: Teens to Thirties Birthday: 17th July, 2095 Height; 164 cm Weight; 51 kgs Sex; Female Gender: Female Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Pansexual Relationship Status: Taken MBTI: INFJ - A [The Advocate] Job Description - [Acer. BioHacker - Field Medic - Researcher]

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Novara Ricci | History

After a long enough brekke. Nova's tentative history below the cut. Its subject to change, but I think I'm satisfied with its core at the moment.

Novara is a product of an experiment. S.P.A.N.C.C was trying to cultivate - created, curated humanity. The intent was to be able to produce children on demand, without needing humans to carry the children and with the ability for partners/groups etc, to pick and choose the traits they wanted their children to possess, among those that are deemed conducive to society (the ‘choice’ exists to ensure diversity). So Novara, was the first and (for the time being) only synthetic child. The limit was because this was a very costly endeavor and S.P.A.N.C.C wanted to follow her as she grew and developed to ensure that she remained viable before making such an option accessible to select public and wider. Novara Ricci - (Named so since she was picked out of the mobile incubator in Sector 0 Region 3 (Italy). She is a baby with no biological parents, including the phase of embryological development, she was incubated entirely outside of the human body. Her genetic data is curated from a whole host of people after extensive research. The choices were made by Wezen Franz and Cepheus Cygnus (at the steep incline of their careers), with the additional goal to create an ‘ideal and accessible human’ so she may also serve as an advertisement, if and when the process was deemed safe and ready to use. She was meant to be someone, who, according to the two of them , embodied the very spirit of empathetic humanity and was easily relatable. Her early upbringing, till about five, was by humanoid AIs and occasionally by the community of scientists, researchers and doctors that operated them. Having this somewhat unusual experience did leave her slightly introverted, which was a little off the original goal. Noticing this change, they decided it was time to enrol her in the Sector 0 G.C.A as an ‘orphan’. She and people around her were fed the story that her mother died during child-birth due to some very unexpected complication and her father was not found. She was enrolled in the academy with the intent to make her more comfortable around her other her age. Though she was the pinnacle of kindness (and health) more often than not, she did not seek the company of other children. Instead, growing up, Nova felt driven and compelled to solve the issues that remain amidst humanity and spent a lot of time studying and doing research regarding sickness. She was quickly labeled a prodigy. Her genetic material had been loaded with substantial potential for intelligence, so while this was not a surprise, this was also not the initial expectation. However, given her proclivities, her curiosities and research was encouraged and she was given all the resources to better her education. While she was also physically trained alongside other G.C.A students, it quickly became apparent that she lacked the killer and competitive instinct required to excel in that domain, she did however quickly pick up the basics of self-defence and core-strength training (when lured with the concept of it being used protectively, not just for herself but for others). However, given her tendency to ‘do good’ she was picked as a target to groom to become a SpecSyn agent. Though the kept a wary distance and getting her to admit her strange history, gave SpecSyn some intel on her origins and the kind of things S.P.A.N.C.C was developing. She did closely get involved with SpecSyn by her own volition, because they seemed to be aligned with making things better as well. Eventually, she graduated G.C.A and entered G.C.U under the umbrella of Crux, in order to improve access to healthcare particularly for other on-field Acers. However, she was certainly under the impression that her experiments and research would (eventually) aid all of humanity. She and Ezekiel entered a formal romantic relationship. She was drawn to the way he seemed to need… help and support, that she thought she could provide, in addition to that Mark (from SpecSyn, and also Jared’s handler) also encouraged her close contact with Ezekiel and the Pyxis family. While at G.C.U Nova also started working under

Alcyone Viser - a being who in some ways starkly contrasted with Novara philosophically, but was a visionary researcher as well. Working under Alcyone allowed her to improve upon the Shealing (wound sealing and healing) serum, to start developing an Advanced Shealing Serum - Abbreviated A.S.S. Nova tested her serum (very very reluctantly) on synthetically generated tissue and rodents. She was still not convinced that her revolutionary development was ready to be mass-produced, simply because the side-effect included excruciating unavoidable pain - and she was convinced that given enough some more time, she could get rid of it.

Alcyone on the other hand, had been smuggling the A.S.S to The Nexus for more enhanced (but illegal) testing - and the results were definitely better than anyone could expect. It soon became a currency amidst the Nexus, since it allowed for bloodier Bloody Blitz shows and the quick recovery of the Bloody Blitz star performers. Eventually, when Ezekiel (who Nova was now in an uncomfortable relationship with) realised about her work, he decided to raise his own stakes in the Bloody Blitz, not entirely letting Nova in on the loop, and exploiting her willingness to help at any cost, to further his own agendas. All the while their relationship descended into darker territories, with a wider, inexplicable and insidious power-gap.

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