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chaniters · 1 year

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Running out of lies

Found by Anathema, Cyrus has to face reality again, and it hurts. -----------------

“Leave me alone!” The words are hushed coming out of your mouth as you try to repack all of your supplies.

“Not until I get some answers”

“You’re drawing attention” you protest because there already are some looks turning your way.

“Then calm down if that’s what bothers you. Also, let me carry that,” They say, taking hold of the easel you rescued from the garbage.

“I don’t need help”

“You’re limping, I have eyes”

You choose silence because you’re not in the mood to explain how you got grazed by a bullet on a sewer, saying nothing more as they walk with you for the next blocks heading towards the bus stop that is your only escape route.

They don’t share in the silence.

“Out with it. What happened?”

“There we go again.”

“I’m not gonna stop”

“Told you, I don’t want to talk about it” you reply almost immediately. -------------

“Dr. Elderidge got her PharmaCore research back in an envelope under her door the day you banished. That’s the only clue I had that you were alive and I couldn’t tell the others. Do you realize they’re still looking for you? How worried they are?”

“Well, now you found me so they can stop. Besides, there’s no reason to be worried, not like I’m part of the team anyways. I’m just a nobody.”

“You’re not some nobody! What the fuck man?”

“I don’t need your help, or your concern, or whatever you’re trying to do! I’m gonna be an artist now, don’t you see??!” you make a point to tap the easel he’s carrying. “I just sell the shit I do and buy stuff with it. Like everyone else does”

That gives them some pause. Enough for you to snatch the easel from them and start walking away. Not that it stops them from following after the initial shock.

“You’re going to quit?! Why?”

“None of your business. The only reason I haven’t returned the suit is that I’m trying to wash it myself. Once I get the sewer stench from it, I’ll return i’ll mail it to your HQ”

“What happened down there?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Would it kill you to just talk to me? You’re not making sense, you did everything you could to be a hero and now you’re throwing it all away? There has to be a reason… and what’s up with that scarf? It’s a million degrees out here!”

“Leave the scarf alon-...”

But their hands are already grabbing for it.

It’s not like the move’s not telegraphed in your mind, but you have your hands full and you’re not fast enough to avoid them as they snatch it off your neck.

“This thing is … Fuck! Cyrus what happened?!”

“Please put that back on?” you beg. “I didn’t want anyone to see.”

They just stand there holding the scarf, staring at them—clear-as-day bruises and marks on your throat, where Husk tried to strangle you. Thankfully then the scarf goes back on, gently, their hands treating you as if you were suddenly made of glass.

“Thank you.”

They give you an evaluating look, their mind quickly putting together the pieces of the puzzle. You avoid the prying eyes and take off, but again you are followed.

“The fuck… Are you ok?”

“Course I am. It’s nothing.” You try to dismiss the marks they saw, but their mind clenches around them, far too tight for the kind of telepathy you’re capable of in this state.

Shit.

“What did Husk do to you?…” you can feel the anger mounting on them, directed at whoever did this to you.

“I don’t want to talk about that!” you yell, far louder than you intended.

“... then why are you tearing up?”

SHITSHITSHIT

“I’m not! Stop asking questions! You’re seeing things. I’m fine. Never been better! Now go away!”

You add suggestions to your words, but your current telepathy would fail the most basic examinations back at the farm. Sloppy, emotional, obvious lies won’t cut it against someone so determined.

They sigh in frustration, following you, trying to understand. Not something you can help them with. Tears? Since when are you so fucking weak?

You’re not supposed to cry, least of all with other people around.

“Stop running!”

“I’m not running!” You lie.

What else can you do?

Husk just wanted to kill you. They never meant to shatter your vision of the world. No, you’re the one who did it all by yourself, getting into their mind uninvited.

How do you explain that now you know things you wish you didn’t and nothing makes sense? Like how you still feel serving the goals of the Special Directive is the “right” thing to do, but you can’t deny knowing how vile it truly is?

Husk opened your eyes to the horrors humans are capable of and there is no closing that door now.

“Does the painting gig help?” Themmie asks understanding too much without even knowing you.

“Why do you care?” you ask bitterly because it’s too true.

“Because you almost die trying to help me and Ferra, you idiot!” they say, hand on your shoulder, looking into your eyes. “It’s my fault. I know what Husk does to people!” Again you look away, unable to hold their gaze, just as you don’t understand the emotions inside their mind right now.

Guilt? Remorse?

Humans are too darn complicated, and you don’t know why but Themmie feeling bad because of your last telepathic screwup with Husk just feels wrong.

“Hey, I’m telling you…It’s nothing. I mean… I get the files or not? That’s all that matters. I swear I’m fine. I mean.. I’ll be fine.” you try to reassure them.

And again you fail. The gesture makes them feel even worse.

You’re the one hurt, they should be the ones trying to make you feel better, not the other way around. That’s how Themmie sees it at least.

It’s painful… how they think this is all their fault. Blaming it all on himself just as…

Just as you do.

“Sides, I swear I’m going to hunt that Husk down, and when I find them…”

“No! Husk’s not going to bother anyone else ever again!” you spit out, wishing you had bit your tongue immediately afterward.

“What?”

Shit. You hate being this weak.

Themmie’s concern is wearing you down, but would it be so bad to say something?

“... fine. Alright, Fuck it. I’ll tell you what happened. Some of it at least”

“Let’s keep walking while we talk. That helps sometimes,” they say, knowing you more than they should once again.

The traffic light changes and you cross, thinking about how to start.

Should you lie?

But what kind of lie would that be? You don’t even know which way it should point.

No, no lies. Just the truth, at least what you can give them.

“It’s simple. I thought I could go and fight Husk alone, and they were getting away while you were busy with the police and Carter”

“We told you how dangerous they are!”

“You think I don’t know that now?!” Your voice grows louder than you wished for.

“Sorry! I shouldn’t interrupt you. Go on please”

“If you let me” you grumble, annoyed. “We fought. They mopped the floor with me and that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“That’s fine. That’s totally fine. You don’t need to go into details.”

“You saw some of the details.” you rub the scarf around your throat. “Promise me you won’t tell”

“I promise I won’t.” And it’s not a lie. Not one you can feel.

“Thanks. Things got uh… less than ideal… and uh… some people showed up.”

“People? What people?”

“Other people. People Husk pissed off” You can’t tell them it’s the special directive because no one is supposed to know that. Looks like once again you’re helping them hide their secrets. “So they were distracted and I took the chance to get the hell out of there”

“And then…?”

“There were gunshots. I lost track of Husk’s mind after that.”

“Dead?”

“They were definitely not firing blanks” you bite your lip. “I started running and I got lost in the tunnels… It was hard to breathe, it was dark, It smelled like shit… and I couldn’t see where I was going, and … and… and…”

And Husk’s memories took too darn long to banish. You can never retain anything, but of all things, this shit got stuck in your brain. Everything they ever told you became a lie, and you wanted to forget.

The words die and you cover your face. You don’t want Themmie to see you tearing up again

But they step forward, wrapping their arms around you in one big hug.

“It’s ok. You’re ok now. It’s over”

You can’t remember ever feeling this weak and useless in your life. Regenes are not made for this. Definitely malfunctioning. Not supposed to be crying on someone else’s shoulder.

It can’t be real. It can’t be happening to you. You want to push them away and break free, show them it’s nothing at all. But you can’t fucking stop crying anymore. Mourning the lies you told yourself. That they always knew better. That they had a great plan for all of you. That you had a purpose.

The lies that kept your world glued together, even after you escaped.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m here for you,” They say.

How could it be alright, when everything is falling apart?

--------------------- My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero world. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for his wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fallen hero fanfic #My fanfiction #Anathema #Sidestep #fanfiction #fallen hero spoilers

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quirkymarshmallows93 · 1 year

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90s pharmacore promotional merch

Since it’s not exactly obvious this is a clip for papers that’s also a fridge magnet

#aesthetic #90s

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cartoonscientist · 7 years

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#medical #pharmacore #doctorpunk #neon sign

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erintoknow · 4 years

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everything and nothing

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Funding a one-woman revenge mission isn’t cheap. You might work for free but Rosie doesn’t. Or Mortum. Or Marcie. The list goes on. [Feed Me Diamonds]

[Read on AO3]

It was the incident at Joes that gave you the initial idea: you need money to fund your operation. And where is flush with – conveniently untraceable – funds, but Los Diablos’s criminal underground?

Using Jane’s luck to gamble your way through the casino circuit would be suicide. She’d end up in a ditch or worse. But you don’t need to. You’ve got a state-of-the-art power armor suit.

In a way, it’s a return to the old days, to being Sidestep. You could never manage to hold down a job back then, but the guilt over skimming kept you from being able to afford much of anything. So, you know, occasionally when busting a villain’s lair or rounding up drug dealers, maybe some of their funds were… misplaced. It was either that or starve.

Or worse, admit your situation to somebody and ask for help.

But it wasn’t really stealing, was it? The money was probably wrongfully gotten to begin with. And it’s not like the city paid vigilantes.

Whatever. You were stealing the whole time. You can admit it to yourself now. It doesn’t matter who it was from. It was still theft. You’ve always been a liar and a fraud. Those last moments before throwing yourself out a fourth-story window crystalized it for you. People lauding Sidestep as some sort of ‘hero’ when she was barely any better than the people she beat up. She just stuck to the government approved list of acceptable targets.

But if you did it before, you can do it again. You know who the real villains are, and it’s not Larry Ray selling weed at the corner of Market Street.

Once more now, with feeling.

Check the seal on your helmet. The Rat-King curls around you. Paul Howard Koch’s penthouse is in the heart of the city. Technically not inside the bounds of Los Diablos proper itself. More a richie-rich enclave. Great view, above the air pollution, slightly less likely to die in a horrific one-two earthquake/tsunami punch.

To his neighbors on the floors above and below, Mr. Koch is a reclusive retired businessman who made his fortune in the early days of the chaos following the establishment of the Free Economic Zone over southern California. Back when anything really did fly.

And maybe there’s a truth in that.

Or maybe he’s just a self-hyped boost with magnetic powers with the audacity to hide in plain sight who robbed a bunch of banks and also maybe the Rangers HQ one time and okay okay fine, maybe there’s an element of revenge to tonight, so what?

Start with the small ones.

Work your way up.

Getting inside is easy enough. It reminds you of Marconi’s mansion that way. Amazing how much security is just theatre. Wall? Climb over. Guards? Walk between the patrols. CCTV? Oh, what a shame, the woman watching fell asleep at her desk, and oh, the whole system needs to be rebooted now? Technology these days, tsk tsk.

The building doesn’t even have dampeners.

Closing the door to the camera room, you let your hand linger on the doorknob. It takes some finesse to control the Nanovores this tightly but you’re able to collapse the mechanism. They’ll have to break the door down.

You’ve got two targets today. Koch, and his fortune. You know where Koch is. He’s up in his bedroom, half-asleep watching TV. Play the right notes, and he’ll stay that way until you need him.

So, then, where’s the goods?

It’s been, what, a decade since Pennybags was active. Had a big spree robbing banks, culminating in an attack on Rangers HQ. You were – Sidestep was still pretty new to the scene, but even she knew it took some guts to pants the Rangers like that. And then he was never heard from again.

Almost have to admire the restraint of the man. To realize he peaked and it was time to get out. Can’t say it’s an example you intend to follow.

The penthouse is a split-level deal. Whole lot of empty space for a man who lives alone. The second floor and you find his office. Very fancy looking computer. And of course, there’s the password in the middle drawer. Man’s gotten lax. You plug in a USB stick as you log in. Search through the files. Records, transactions. Looks like Mr. Koch has been busy in his ‘retirement.’ Blackmail material? Not the pile of cash you were aiming for but it’s something to start with. Another crack in the city’s shell. Another point of attack.

One file name catches your attention: Regenerator sale? It’s been awhile since you’ve gotten a lead on that name, and here it is. Just waiting for you. Opening the file and it’s a text document. At first glance there doesn’t seem to be much you don’t already know. PharmaCore, shut down by the government, confiscated, then ‘vanished.’ Oh, here’s something new: an actual description of what it does…

Ugh. There’s no time to stand here and parse all this. You copy everything that looks even remotely promising and move on to the rest of the room.

An oddly spaced bookshelf, by the window, draws your attention. Push the texts away and there’s a safe. Have to smile at that. At least it’s not behind a portrait. The metal melts into dust under the Nanovores and you’re free to reach inside. A gun, some rolled up hundred dollar bills and a collection of black unmarked USB looking bits of plastic and silicon.

Jackpot.

DS Chips. Or ‘Dark Script’ if you want to be wordy. Criminal computer scientists are disappointingly lacking in imagination. Physical bills can be traced by serial number, and digital transactions through bank and credit systems. Cryptocurrencies like these DS chips are the current fashion du jour for avoiding surveillance.

The exchanges aren’t cheap, and Hollow Ground keeps a tight grip on Los Diablos’s little corner. But attach a ‘wallet’ to a specific chip and you carry thousands of dollars in a little box of plastic and silicone smaller than your palm.

That’s business sorted then.

Time for the pleasure half.

When you reach the bedroom, you don’t need to kick the door in. The hinges disintegrate into dust and it falls over, all on it’s own. The crash against the floor breaks Koch out of his stupor. With a cry of alarm he scrambles to his feet, tripping on his own night robe.

“Evening, Pennybags.”

“Who the blazes let you in here?” His heart is pounding. Scenarios running through his mind. Scrambling for an answer. Really? You’d have expected someone a little more paranoid.

You fold your hands behind your back. Nod towards the door. “I did.”

He narrows his eyes, not seeing the humor. Oh well, his loss.

You’re on him before he can even finish his thought about using his power on you. Is enough of the suit metal for it to be a problem? You’re not sure and you’d rather not find out. His head cracks against the wall as you shove him up off the ground with an arm against his neck.

You tap your head. “Don’t even think about it.”

He doesn’t stop struggling. Bare feet kicking against your armor. Up close he doesn’t look as old as you pictured. Bald, sure. But… how old is he? Maybe he just has one of those faces. “You’re–” He wheezes, “you’re going to regret this.”

He’s already plotting your death. Cute. Have to laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

...now what are you going to do?

Maybe you should have thought of that before barging in here.

You press against his neck a little harder. Not enough to choke him, but to give you some room to think.

“Alright… Here’s what’s going to happen,” You growl, lacing your words with a telepathic push. An urgency to be followed.

It’s not mind control, not technically.

Just a push.

You’re not even going to make him jump out a window.

–––

You don’t need to hear the stomping of boots in the hallway to know your time is almost up. You drop Koch to the floor. “Consider what we’ve talked about tonight.” Walking over to his desk, you rip off a piece of his day planner and turn it over. Write out the list of instructions.

Three simple suggestions. They’re in his own best interest, really.

You return to him, holding the paper out to take. He hesitates so you reach into his mind and give him a push before stepping away. By the time the riot police show up the scrap paper is gone, inside his pocket. You watch the police fill the other end of the room, shields up and guns drawn. The idiots. They’ll kill Koch if they shoot like this.

You don’t see or sense any of the Rangers.

That’s fine with you, if maybe a little strange. The man in charge steps forward, hand on the trigger finger. “Ghost, you’re under arrest. We have you surrounded.” You don’t need to read his mind to know from the look on his face and the way he’s holding his gun that he’s seriously regretting coming in to work tonight. What does the LDPD think they’re doing? They’re no match for you. Sure, you aren’t immune to bullets, but when has that ever stopped you?

You reach out to the captain’s mind and coax him to lower his gun before he sets off the whole room. “Ghost?” You fake a laugh, the distortion hollowing it out, then say innocently, “Don’t know anyone by that name.”

You crouch down, bracing yourself, placing a hand on the floor. You’ll only have a second before the tension of the situation wakes them up again. “More of a Banshee.” There’s a moment where it seems like nothing is going to happen and then the Nanovores eat a hole in the floor directly beneath you, dropping you down. You grunt, letting the armor absorb most of the shock, though the landing still plays hell on your knees. Going to regret that in the morning.

Above you the room erupts in shouts of alarm and someone fires their gun, setting off another gunshot, then another. You grimace in frustration and, telepathically reach back up to give them a metaphorical shake of the shoulders. You can’t have them killing your new informant.

You break into a run, following your thread to the nearest elevator shaft and breaking the door open with a mixture of force and Nanovores. As you make your escape sliding down the elevator cable you can’t help humming a few bars aloud as you try to steady your nerves.

The chittering of the Rat-King creates an accompaniment in the back of your head.

It’s getting scary just how comfortable with this life you’re starting to get.

Hitting the basement level you barely manage to clear the doors when Lady Argent is on you, all knives and quicksilver. Her claws dig into your arm before you’re able to get her to back off with an uppercut to the head. Argent flexes her jaw and gives you a predatory grin. “I had a feeling I’d find you down here Ghost.”

You study her face, waiting for a sign of any sudden movement. Getting out predicted like this is embarrassing but you need to save the over-analysis for when a woman capable of opening you up like a can-opener isn’t staring you down. You’ve got to reassert control of the situation. You make sure to put an edge to your voice, “It’s Banshee now. If you’re going to play lap dog, at least remember to fill in the incident report form correctly this time.”

Her eyes widen and then Argent leans down, her grin deepening into a scowl. “Ugh. I don’t care,” and she moves in.

Can feel your heart in your throat as the two of you exchange blows. When you try to slide past her, Lady Argent is ready for you, raking claws against the side of your armor, trying to find a point of purchase to pry you apart. Grab her wrist and pull her down on top of you. It’s a stupid move, and you pay for it with razor filings running down your sides but because it’s stupid she doesn’t expect it and you’re able to knee her in the gut and kick her away.

You hate fighting Argent in enclosed spaces like this. It’ll be a game of attrition as to whether you can get away before she can land a clean hit. The two of you are back to circling each other when you bump up against a support pillar.

Maybe….? You mentally check your map.

You’ll need to stall Argent. “So, what was your plan, if I went a different route?” As you talk you rest your hand on the concrete pillar beside you, coaxing the Nanovores to get to work. “Not a good look, hiding in a basement.”

Lady Argent narrows her eyes, “The Handyman’s watching the front door.”

“He’s out of the hospital now?” You sigh. “Are you really that eager to put him back in there?”

There’s a shark-toothed grin and the distinct feeling that she’s sizing you up. “You’re awfully concerned for being the bastard that put him there.”

“Healthcare’s not cheap in this city. Should we hold a fundraiser for him?” You give a theatrical flip of your free hand. “Any suggestions?” Too flippant? You’re never really sure how to approach Argent.

There’s always the temptation; in the back of your head. Let her know who you are, what you’ve done. See if she’ll kill you. But you always end up holding back. Why is that? You don’t understand yourself.

“My only ‘suggestion’ is bringing you to justice.” She keeps her focus trained on you, ready for the moment you make a move. Part of you is surprised she’s still letting you talk. Is backup on the way? That’s not Argent’s style.

“That’s a good thought about justice.” You rap your armored fingers against the pillar, testing to see if it’s hollowed out yet. “But who gets to decide what justice is?”

Would Argent feel bad, if she did kill you? Or would it just make things worse for her? How do you atone for something like this? Is revenge justice? Is it really enough to just make someone hurt?

You used to be sure.

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk.”

You tsk. “Oh and now you’re hurting my feelings?” You can’t keep operating like this. Need to compartmentalize better. Remember the goal. Remember revenge. The damage to Argent is done. Don’t fuck this up and make it be in vain.

Argent eyes your hand, still pressed to the pillar, and growls. “What are you up to?”

“Are you talking about, in general or just right now?” You smirk under your helmet. “Care to find out?” You push hard against the concert. The stone breaks like glass and the ceiling sags from the sudden lack of support, tiles crashing down around you. You jump backwards as the ceiling starts to give in.

No time for any last-minute taunts. You book it for the sewer entrance before Argent can realize the whole building isn’t going to collapse.

In the back of your head, she's still there, watching through the dust.

Smile like a shark.

Reminding.

---

“So, this isn’t what I had planned on talking about; but you’ll never guess what happened last night.” Ortega looks at you, leaning in, an edge to her smile. The two of you are meeting for an early lunch before heading up to the Children’s Hospital again.

You’d half a mind to order something alcoholic, but resisted. Instead, you’re watching Ortega over the rim of your milkshake, straw in your mouth. “Mm?”

“You remember Pennybags?”

You drum the side of the glass with your fingers, making a show of thinking back. “The magnetic guy?”

Ortega nods. “Yeah. Big bank robber, stole a bunch of things from the old Rangers HQ too, remember?”

You nod, grimacing. “Yeah, that was a mess.” Of course you remember. One of the few times you had actually seen Julia really upset. The first time actually. Didn’t know what to do, how to handle it. Ortega was always so confident, so in control of herself and the situation all the time. And there she was, tears and snot yelling at cardboard boxes about failing and… you did the only thing you could think of to do.

“Well, did you see the news this morning?” Ortega’s excitement pulls you back to the present. She leans in further over the table.

You sit back, shaking your head. “I was a little busy last night.” You wince, “This morning. I mean. Uh.” Shit shit shit. “Well. Both? Long night. Working.” You shrug, try to keep your face blank.

Ortega tilts her head, side-eyeing you. “Yeah, I still need to ask you about that job of yours.” She waves it off with a hand. “Anyway, Banshee made a mess again. North end of Beverly Hills this time.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Was anyone hurt?” You bite your lip, looking away. “Did… um. Did anyone else…?”

You know Banshee didn’t kill anyone last night. But…

Don’t breathe, don’t relax until Ortega shakes her head, “One guy had some minor injuries, but that’s it.”

Oh thank god. “That’s a relief.” You match Ortega’s smile, swipe a fry from the basket in front of her.

“I’m more convinced than ever that Marconi’s murder was something else.”

“That’s…” You look away, watch the window, fingers worrying the fry in your hand. Shit. What do you say to that? Fuck fuck fuck. “If you say so.” You look back at her. Need to push this conversation along before she can think about that response. “So, uh, are you just this excited that no one was hurt or did the Rangers finally bring Banshee in, or – or what?”

“No, they got away. Again.” Ortega gives you a curious look, eyes flickering down to the fry in your hand and then back up to your face. With an air of deliberate purpose, you put the fry in your mouth. She politely doesn’t say anything.

“So then…?”

“You’ll never guess.”

You shrug, steal another fry. “Okay.”

She frowns. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

You keep your face blank, only raising an eyebrow as you silently eat your ill-gotten prize.

“Fine.” She huffs. “The guy Banshee attacked, the one that had to go to the hospital… It’s Pennybags. Bastard was hiding under our noses the whole time.”

“Money’s a pretty good cover.”

“Believe me, I’m wildly aware.” The tired expression on Ortega’s face is only there for a brief second and then it’s gone. “He practically turned himself in. It was… kind of creepy, actually. Reading the report.”

You swallow, goosebumps on the back of your neck. “Creepy?”

“Like he felt… compelled.” Ortega jabs a fry in your direction. “You’re the expert, what do you think? Can telepathy force a confession like that?”

“Ortega…” You make yourself meet her eyes. “You’re as much of an expert as me, at uh, at this point. M–maybe more.”

“Maybe.” She meets your gaze. “But I want to know what you think.”

Goddamnit, why does she keep doing this?

You focus on the basket of fries instead, it’s safer. “It’s… possible.” You concede. Would it be better to lie? It already feels like you’re lying about so much. It’s better to minimize the amount of bullshit you have to keep track of. “How are you… sure it’s a confession, and not like… uh, a delusion or something? False suggestion?”

“Yeah, that’s fair. That was my first assumption but uh…” She lowers her voice. “We uh, we found some stuff when searching the apartment. The signed Marshall Hood figure Pennybags stole actually…”

“Oh.” You say. You hadn’t expected her to actually talk about this.

“I… don’t really have a lot left of him. I thought I’d lost that one for good.”

“I remember.” You remember seeing the front door of its hinges, running through wrecked room after room, finding an alarmingly sobbing Ortega.

The first time you willingly hugged someone.

“There’s maybe five people who know about that figure, Ari, and two of them are dead now.” Ortega’s voice is quiet, her hand on the table balled into a fist.

“Do…” You fish for an idea, “do you think they’re trying to send you a message?”

Ortega looks you straight in the face, half-eaten hamburger now completely forgotten. You wish she wouldn’t. “A message? For what?”

You look back, willing yourself not to look away, not to look guilty. “I don’t know… I mean, it’s no secret you and Hood were close, is it?”

The look on Ortega’s face only intensifies. “You think maybe it was a threat?”

Your face blanches, and you shake your head. This is not at all going how you thought it would. “I’m not in this game anymore, remember?” You shrug your shoulders theatrically, “for all I know it could be a love letter.” You freeze. Face threatening warmth. Oh god. What the fuck, Ariadne?

The absurdity of the idea gets a laugh out of Ortega and you both relax. “Mierda,” she shakes her head. “That’s a hell of a way to send a letter.”

You steal another fry. She lets you.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

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driftroddy · 5 years

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lms if you'd be interested in me streaming reanimator later cuz I found it on YouTube and the mc is tfp ratchets voice actor and the whole premise of it is very pharmacore and it gives me au ideas :^)

#👾

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monawithgloss · 7 years

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Funny ears make fridays even better 😍🐺🐰 with @ireenette #funny #funnyears #FMWGfun #friday #tgif #beauty #event #bbloger #acnecontrol #pharmacore #pravenue #weekend #fun #friends #selfie (la Lugo Restaurant & Lounge)

#bbloger #fun #pharmacore #friday #event #friends #funnyears #acnecontrol #selfie #pravenue #funny #tgif #weekend #beauty #fmwgfun

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paxlovid · 6 months

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Synthroid identification sheet

#synthroid #levothyroxine #brand name #multicolor #tablets #round #non-controls #data sheets #pharmacologycore #pharmcore #pharmacore #pills #hypothyroidism #pharmacology

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chaniters · 1 year

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Keeping the lights on

Cyrus decides to stay where his friends are, come what may --------------

Alone and surrounded by machinery is one of the most calming setups you could ask to spend your time in. The basement level has plenty of unused space, mostly storage units and vaults, one of them which Steel has made abundantly clear that you’re to steer clear of. Easy enough, you’re not here to steal their captured villain doomsday devices, just to assemble the generator and bring the lights back on. It’s been quiet too. You suggested you could work faster if you stayed the nights here, and nobody seemed to object. It’s been three days since then. Pretty safe ones too without the cameras or power, just candles, flashlights, and emergency lights when they can get the emergency fuel generators running. Not a place the Special Directive might be looking in.

Still, the stay is about to be cut short, mainly because you’re done.

The generator’s display shows all systems are in order and you’ve done a triple checkup of the control of the fiery plasma inside the reactor’s tokamak. It always amazed you how these devices don’t come pre-programmed and have to be trained from scratch each time one is put online, so they can learn how to control the plasma configuration. It’s not like the computer has any kind of intelligence beyond its assigned duty, but you can’t help but feel a kinship for it. Would it have been easier if your mind hadn’t been designed to do anything other than follow orders?

“Evening there!” The voice comes from the stairs, pulling you away from the thoughts you had allowed yourself to submerge in once more. It’s Anathema, one of your new friends.

“Good evening, Themmie. Hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Been patrolling the streets. Showing our presence, you know. Making sure they see we’re not ‘done’ like PharmaCore and Carter and all those political idiots want.” “And now you’re back. Did Charge send you to check up on me?” “Whaaat, can’t I just come to visit you while you’re trying to help us?”

“I’m pretty sure that he did send you.”

“Fine, read my mind all you want, be that way, it’s totally not creepy at all.” Themmie rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t reading your mind. Much. Was I right?” “Yeah, he did send me. But I still wanted to say hi anyways”.

“Thanks” you smile back at him. “Hi to you too.” “So now that it’s out of the way, please tell me that you’re done and we’re getting lights again? Can we turn the fridge back on? I really miss having cold drinks!”

“I’m done. Was about to pull the switch.”

“You're joking. It's real? You're not shitting me?”

“I promise it's real.”

“Wow this is … it’s huge! I’ll go tell Charge and Steel and then we can all…”

*CLICK* goes the button as you press it, and the generator immediately starts humming

And powering up… and the ceiling lights through the basement slowly start flickering and turning on, pushing back the shadows and placing you both in a perfectly lit environment.

“Awww man! You should have waited a moment until I called everyone!”

“Why? I was here to turn on the lights and I did.”

Themmie sighs. “You know what’s your problem? No showmanship! It’s not about turning on the lights, it’s about presentation!”

“What more presentation do you want? There were no lights, now there are lights on!” you protest.

Footsteps on the stairs make you both lift your gaze.

“I can’t believe it. You actually did it?!” Steel asks amazed as he comes down. “I did” you nod, letting him appreciate the assembled generator. “It’s an old model but every piece was here and most of the assembly was done before they packaged it. “It wasn’t that hard”

“You turned on a nuclear generator and you’re telling me it’s not hard?” Steel’s gaze goes from the machine to you. “I’m starting to wonder what school did you go to?” “I went to the UNYB.” “Where’s that?” “Leave it Chen.” Anathema laughs “That stands for University of None of Your Business, I already asked him the other day” Steel frowns, but Sunstream cuts him off by coming down the stairs.

“About time! I don’t like being on official Lamp duty all day long!” Sunstream follows, turning off her glowing light now that the lightbulbs are back. “Pitty, I was getting a good tan finally” Themmie replies, stealing a half-smile from her.

The elevator doors open with a ding, and Ortega comes out on his wheelchair.

“YES!” It’s working again! I knew you could do it!”

Normally you’d try to weasel out of a hug but you’re cornered by rangers and the machine you just assembled, so Ricardo gets a good hold on you, squeezing you in his arms once more.

“I told you I could do it.” You reply, trying not to make a fuzz of it, only now realizing that they probably are going to make one. “ It was preassembled in the boxes, it wasn’t that hard really, I’m serious”.

“Stop being so humble already!” Anathema slaps your back. “You did an awesome job here!”

“Yes you did!” Ricardo adds, followed by Sunstream and even Steel acknowledges you did more than what he expected.

It’s weird to be getting this much praise for your engineering skills. Back at the farm your work was either satisfactory or it was not and that was that. Praise like this was something that was reserved for your commitment to training or actions in combat simulations or the psy-training exercises. Weird but not uncomfortable?

Perhaps you could do some more work like this if they’d let you? It certainly feels nice to be useful.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could be of help” you say trying your best to not look anyone in the eyes. “You should be able to start recharging your inner generator as soon as I plug the interface into the new grid, Charge”

“That’s the news I was waiting for! Steel, would you please let everyone know we’re fully back in business!”

“Right away Marshal!” he smiles as he walks up the stairs.

“To the elevator my friend,” Ricardo says giving you a wink. “I need some high voltage right now!”

“Right away!” you chuckle, following him as he turns the chair around.

It only downs on you after he pushes the floor’s button… With the generator’s back up, where are you going to stay tonight? Your plans were to leave Los Diablos for good, yet you threw them away the moment it seemed you were needed.

You decided to stay to help your friends out of this mess, even after all you learned from that other poor regene. Ortega smiles at you as he pushes the chair onward, and you can’t help but follow, smiling back.

It’s pretty obvious now. You’re not leaving because your friends are here.

It’s not a smart choice. Will it come back to haunt you later on?

Perhaps, but that’s a problem for future you to deal with.

#Fallen hero fanfiction #fallen hero rebirth #Fallen hero retribution #Fanfiction #Steel #Sidestep #Charge #Anathema #Sunstream #fallen hero spoilers

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