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a-wanderin-whirlybird · 4 years

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Who did this? A Sole Ender AU fic

Summary: Ryan Haywood is happy in the crew. They know his quirks, well, most of them and they dont care. They have embraced his weird situation and have been the best family Ryan could ever want. He never wanted to lose them, so when one of the Lads goes missing for 2 weeks, only to return half alive? Well, Ryan isnt seeing red persay... He is seeing Black.

I would like to warn you: there are some parts where reality and imagination blurs a bit. There is also lots of blood. It will be the but be careful please.

Ryan stared at the door to the penthouse, gently holding Finnieas to his chest. The night sky glittered with the light of the city around them. The three legged kitten had grown quickly in the last 3 months. It wasnt uncommon to see the bundle hopping along besides Ryan or Jeremy. Occasionally the little guy would find an injured crew member and simply curl on them and purr. Geoff couldn't deny how adorable the cat was though he refused to admit it. Which didnt matter, Ryan had an entire album of the crew playing with Finnieas on his phone now.

But those happy times were on hold, and Finnieas wasnt purring to heal a physical wound. Michael had been missing for several weeks now, no one knew what happened, just that he went out for a supply run and never returned.

Ryan had taken to standing guard by the door at night. His years in the Lab had taught him how to operate on no sleep so he was able to do this. It didnt make the situation any better, and he was still exhausted beyond belief.

As Jack and Jeremy liked to remind him, he was still human, no matter what. He had limits.

Despite that Ryan sat up. His Vagabond Mask in arms reach just in case and surrounded by Diet Coke cans. His mind wandered about phasing between focused intent and roaming memories.

God exhaustion didnt helo memories one bit, it had been a week and a half since Ryan slept more than an hour every 3 days and things were blurring.

Then the door silently opened and the scent of old blood and gunpowder filled Ryan's mind. The walls turned white.

Ryan rose and teleported in an instant to catch Michael, leaving Finnieas to tumble onto the couch with a Mrrp. God Michael was shit. Ryan couldnt tell where all the blood was from but if the distinct lack of fingernails was anything to go by, he would guess Michael had been in some deep shit.

"Michael, stay with me ok?" Ryan muttered as the curly haired man moaned in pain. Ryan began to bridal style carry Michael into the back. He stopped outside Michael's own room but decided against it. He didnt trust it at the moment, plus Gavin and Jack were asleep there. Something about the smell.

Ryan instead made his way to his own room, and gently set Michael down on his bed. Ryan then slowly began to peel away the lady's tattered clothes, and tucked a blanket over him.

All the while Ryan was taking shaky shallow breaths. Blood was easy. He saw blood on himself all the time. Ryan had removed his eye patch, a plain black silk one Geoff had gotten him, to look over Michael. It played to have an eye that could show exactly what kind of injuries or weaknesses someone had. Especially if you needed to report the injuries.

Internal bleeding, the blood pooled dangerously in Michael's lungs. The eye revealed if Michael wasnt propped up he would drown quicker. So Ryan propped him up, the ghost of an electric shock shooting through his veins as he did so.

No time for that. What else was there?

Concussion, and cracked skull. Ryan couldnt do much there but cushion the head. He grabbed extra pillows to pack around the lad just in case. The ghostly shock grew in strength and Ryan felt his vision fade a little.

Not Now! Michael needed him.

Broken ribs, arm and legs. Those needed to be set. Ryan couldnt do that himself, he needed Larry.

"Rye?" Michael groaned, his voice cracking. Ryan turned up to stare at Michael's face, not his eyes, never his eyes.

"Yeah." Ryan assured quietly. "Its me. Hang on ok? I'm getting Larry."

Ryan then Vwooped away leaving a small poof of sparkles.

Larry was a few floors down, in the crew's private infirmary, he was asleep at his desk, again. He rarely left the office unless he needed to.

He lay over various charts and reports of the crews health and healing injuries. It took a lot to keep up with the mad crew, especially since one of them didnt have all natural anatomy. But Larry didnt mind.

"Upstairs. Now. Michael needs healing." What Larry did mind was suddenly being shoved out of his sleep by Ryan literally shoving him out of his chair and teleporting away.

Hissing but rushing Larry gathered up his supplies and beelined for the elevator.

Ryan vwooped back to his room. His mind swirled and mixed up times, but it never stopped him before. For weeks a burning, and boiling rage had been hiding in the depths of his sleep deprived mind. And the sight of the lad on his bed, barely awake and alive only made that worse.

Ryan knelt down by Michael who was carefully watching Ryan. Ryan met his eyes briefly, his muscles tensed and screamed at him to run for doing so. But he kept it as best he could.

"Who did this?" Ryan whispered. The response was hesitant, but the growl that escaped Ryan's throat and the vwoop that followed wasnt.

Larry raced up through main floor, poking in every room to find where Ryan had fucking dumped Michael. On the way, he ended up waking half the crew until he found the lad half awake in Ryan's room, propped up by a mountain of pillows.

As Larry got to work a sleepy and nervous Jack went to the front room, following the desperate Mews of Finnieas. Out in the main room he found the 3 legged cat pawing at a pile of sparkles on the coffee table. For the last week or so, the Vagabond mask had been sitting on the coffee table, in case an immediate rescue mission occured.

But it was gone, and Jack was instantly awake. Jack quickly crossed the room to the back hall, following it over to a secluded mini armory. Jack cursed as they counted the weapons. Only one was missing, and no one ever saw Ryan use it.

The Vagabond was on the hunt.

Ryan was lost in a swirling sea of thoughts. Fury was the first and foremost thought. It was feral and wild, a feeling that Ryan hadn't felt for years. Not since he broke free for good and he hunted down the traitors who sold him back to the Lab.

Behind the rage was bloodlust. Ryan usually enjoyed his job, but he didnt crave the blood of his enemies. Now all he wanted was to be bathed in their blood and guts.

The combo of rage and bloodlust turned into a mechanical motion. Ryan, what little piece of his mind was still aware of its surrounding and actions, felt distant. That tiny piece that remained knew, the moment he teleported his mind would swirl back into a deep pit. The robotic movements and thoughts of an agent without agency. He didnt have the control to weigh the options at this moment as he stalked the dark streets, mask slipped on over tired eyes, the left glowing bright and ominously.

His mind and consciousness had weighed the possibilities when Michael had hobbled back into the penthouse. Ryan had made the desicion when he went to the tiny armory and grabbed That knife. The one pulsing and singing in his hand now.

Ryan teleported. A monster appeared at the destination.

The bar was empty. It had been all day. The bar keep knew that their crew in the back was celebrating. They could join once they were done cleaning. The place would have to be burnt by sunrise. It needed to be clear of booze.

The barkeep didnt hear anything but a soft vwoop before the splitting pain filled his senses and with it the world went dark.

A black and purple eye watched the human bleed from their neck on the floor. And questions rang in their head.

Why was it so easy? The tests never were this easy. Why the mask? Who said it needed the mask? Was this the doctor's playing with it again?

Who cared, one was dead. Five more remain on the building, two more on the roof. Get it done. There was someone waiting for him.

In the back room of the bar the celebrations were dieing down. The victorious party celebrated their successful efforts to through the biggest crew in Los Santos off their game. They were laugh at a joke when the faint thud of runner and kevlar hit the table.

Half present the five stared at the item before them. Then they screamed. The iconic skull mask of the Vagabond lay before them, discarded but untouched. Before they could fully process what thus meant, the dripping of blood filled the room as one member fell dead. Their skull ripped open with a knife.

There was panic as another dropped down dead. They couldnt see the attacker but it was clear who it was.

As each member fell, one by one they all had the chance to catch a glimpse of a furious purple eye and a black knife and it drew their lives away and left them to rot on the floor.

The room was clear of life, and the Vagabond moved on to the last two targets on the roof, leaving nothing but bodies and sparkles behind.

Jack and Jeremy drove down the dark streets nervously. They had left the moment Jack noticed the black knife Ryan refused to touch was missing.

"Pull over! There!" Jeremy shouted as Jack threw the car into park and jumped out of the car.

The stiff figure of Ryan had emerged from an alleyway. His sweats and tshirt were soaked with blood and sweat. A small dribble of blood dripped onto the pavement from the knife pulsing and clutched in a white knuckle grip in his hand. His eyes were blank as they turned and met Jack's own.

Jack grabbed Ryan's wrists.

"Come on big guy come back to us. Larry said Michael's ok. He'll be fine. Come on, back to earth with you." Jack soothed as Jeremy helped moved the blank Ryan back to the car.

Jack piled Ryan and Jeremy into the back seat as Ryan sat still and unresponsive, like he was processing it all. Jeremy stayed pressed to his side all the way back to the penthouse as the coaxed the statue inside.

Geoff met the two at the door and gestured to the very back room.

"Use my room. Shifty said not to move Michael." There was a twitch from Ryan at the mention of Michael but nothing more, so the three moved back.

Geoff's room was the biggest. He may be one of the biggest criminals in the world, but Geoff was a goddamned Softie. He wanted to make sure he had space for his crew, his family, in his space at all times. If that meant needing a giant custom bed that fit nearly 15 people then fuckit! He got it.

Once in the giant room Geoff took the Knife from Ryan's hand and led him over to the bed with Jack and Jeremy.

The moment Ryan hit the mattress his eyes closed and he began to snore lightly. Geoff shook his head and sighed.

"Right. He's not allowed out of bed until Michael's up. Bastard needs his sleep."

Ryan was twisting in his mind. He was griping desperately to a single vision, the crew after a recent heist. His mind chanting different truths at him.

This is the present. The crew is real, and so are you.

This is a dream. These people are fake, you are nothing but a tool.

His hands ached, and his head felt like it was splitting open. He didnt know if he wanted to find out which chant was true or not. He kept his eyes closed. And begged for it to stop.

"Move the fuck over asshole Gavin's going to fucking flip when he wakes up and I'm not in your room." The voice was hushed and raspy, but Ryan knew it. Oh God he knew it!

Ryan cracked his eyes open to find Michael, bandaged and wiggling down next to him. Part of Ryan was terrified this was fake. The other terrified Michael would break of he moved more.

Ryan reached out gently and Michael sighed and he curled into Ryan's arms. A gentle purr soon joined Michael's weight as Finnieas curled up on his right.

"Real..." Ryan rasped.

"Yeah. It's real. I ain't leaving. Heard Jack say you were like a Zombie a couple days ago. You went and got the bastards who got me." Suddenly the memories of a few days ago cleared of fog. Michael's arrival, the bar, the pulsing knife he swore he would never take up again. Suddenly everything felt real and present.

"Are you ok?" Ryan asked as Michael moved his bandaged head onto Ryan's chest.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'll heal. Look I fucking suck at emotions and shit ok? But you kicked ass for me and I appreciate that. But next time dont fucking I dont know. Robotisise yourself like Jack said you did ok? Oh and save some of the fun for me!" Michael insisted. And Ryan couldnt help but laugh as he curled into Michael himself, more odd bubbling formed in his mind, but he didnt touch it. He wanted to revel in the realness of this.

Because it was real. He was real. And so was his new home. He loved it there, like hell he was going to lose any of it.

#Sole Ender AU #Ender!Vagabond #tw:blood #tw:derealization #FAHC #Ryan Haywood #OT6 is happening #because Yes #casual cuddling is great #enjoy Ryan experiencing Derealization #its a type of Disassociation #I based his off my own

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